Masks

I thought I would tickle the keyboard again tonight before turning it in. It's rough living inside of your own head. The rents too high and the maintenance crew is virtually non existent. First let me explain by what I mean when I say I am living in my own head. Essentially it means to over think things, silly and trivial things. Things that really have no bearing on your life but you choose to dwell on them. It's like a buffet line that only serves anxiety and unnecessary self evaluation. Just large hotel pans overflowing with irrational thoughts and second guessing. I have to admit, I am the repeat offender that returns to the buffet line using the same plate (everyone knows you're supposed to get a new plate for each visit) hoping nobody notices. Well shit... where was I going with this? Oh yes, renting out space in one's own head and how to remedy it? I pose it as a question because what the fuck do I really know. I can only hope to attempt to break my lease and live rent free.

Ok, enough of this metaphorical nonsense, I'm confusing my own self. Basically what I am getting at is; I need to stop worrying about how people think, perceive, and interact with me. Because ultimately it is only me that is looking back in the mirror. As I like to say, we all wear masks but there isn't a mask thick enough to hide your own reflection. Or there shouldn't be at least. I have to remind myself that I am a man that lives within the margin. That small space adjacent to social norms and mass conformity. Now don't get me wrong, wearing a mask is a part of existing within the societal parameters that are placed on us. I believe its called the Social Contract that we all agreed upon way back when. It's fine, I get it; society can't just be pure anarchy. However, it is when the mask is no longer a mask, problems begin to take shape. It is when the mask no longer serves it’s function which  is to conceal the real you. In turn to abide by the Social Contract. The mask actually becomes an extension of yourself. It’s like putting on a Halloween mask to find out it’s glued to your face. I think that is where I have found myself recently. I've gotten so caught up in how other people see my various masks and have started to forget what's behind the mask.

Me, I'm the one behind the mask. So when all the smoke clears and I'm standing at the position of attention in front of the mirror I can't hide behind a mask. As cheezy as it sounds, I have to be true to myself and remember that the masks that I do wear do not define who I am and nor should they. I wish I could better articulate what I am trying to say but it's not that simple. Afterall it's my blog and I can spout all the nonsense I want and not care if anyone has any clue of what I'm talking about. I barely know what I'm talking about. Goodnight

TBN OUT

Peaces and Creases

Chappelle

Not a riveting response to my last post but it is my fault. I've been inexcusably absent, but I'm rectifying the situation, currently (obviously). BUT, Dave Chappelle took a nice long hiatus and came back like a boss. Dave has changed soooo much from when he started out. For the good, for the bad, it's for you to decide. Me personally, I fucking love the transformation. Watching the arc of his career is remarkable. Not sure why it took 10 years for him to find.... well what I consider the best comedy he has ever done. He finally took the kiddie gloves off and starting preaching a.k.a speaking mad unadulterated truth, unapologetically. I am proud of him, which sounds absurd because he's not my five year old child, nonetheless I feel like a proud father watching his son hit his first home run. Trust me, I fully understand he had to cut his teeth and do the whole Hollywood thing, placate/appease the masses. Now he appeases himself and says whatever the fuck he feels like, and frankly I'm jealous. Wait I mean envious. I love saying whatever the fuck I want, however I don't have the same clout as Dave. He's funny, but he is a lot much more. I want to say brilliant but I don't want the statement to be misconstrued as hyperbole. Actually he is brilliant and his talent should be recognized as such. I think his comedy reaches next level: not just funny, but intelligent, charismatic, and socially conscience. Its hard to make all of those things work together and still be successful.

But I digress, I'll stop dick riding. Just wish I had the platform to go as raw as he does. He earned it. In my top 5 of people to meet for sure. I got him in my scope.

TBN OUT

Peaces and Creases

More to come

Domestication, Irritation, and Placation?

Wheeeew, it's been a long time since I've spoken to you. I been busy. I got a lot on my plate as they say. Update: I got married, inherited two beautiful children and purchased a second home. My life has changed a little bit to say the least. Unfortunately I am not here to bask in my new found fortune. It's the opposite actually. Hmmmm, where do I begin? Lets start with fuck ya'll all of ya'll. If ya'll don't like me, blow me. As The Doctor Dre so eloquently put it. All day one line from that particular song kept running thru my head: Ya'll gonna fuck around and turn me back to the old me. I don't want that and neither does the rest of society. CANT I JUST DO ME?! I guess everyone thinks that since I've settled down I can't go back to the old me. News flash Walter Cronkite, old me didn't go anywhere, he's just been hibernating waiting for the chance to pounce. So here he is....

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, nobodies cool. Let me tell you something. Wait better yet let me drop some truth bombs on you. You think since Mike Tyson doesn't box anymore he cant still throw a punch that will send you into next week? I dare you, I double dog dare you. All ya'll that have been living this domestic life, wanting this domestic life, growing up dreaming of this domestic life, don't make you me by any stretch of the imagination. We are not the same people, I promise you. Walk a mile in my shoes.... PLEASE you couldn't take two steps in my shoes. Look at me, look thru me, avoid me, don't matter. You gonna feel me one way or the other. I have always claimed to be a Man in the Margin and ain't shit changed but the time (daylight savings). I have sat back and held my tongue, attempting to let things play themselves out. But shit, a man (especially one in the margin) can only take so much before things start to come to a head. Hence the reason for this post...

The pen is mightier than the sword. Whatever. Me writing this blog is mightier than me going to jail. I'm just trying to look out for my wife and our children. Plain and simple. The rest is just smoke and mirrors. So when, let's just call them them/they, start to fuck with that symbiosis it becomes a problem that needs to be addressed, and this is the platform I choose to exercise. Your welcome. If you know me, or knew me in the past, well then, you know what I'm capable of......

But let's end this on a positive note, that's what I preach. HA, gothcha! I caught you sleepin. I don't preach shit, I only speak. The last fast few months have been scary, funny. fun. tumultuous, infuriating, exciting, mind boggling etc. And I wouldn't trade one minute of it. Bring it on Appearancers, but don't get it twisted. I see thru your mask. I'll leave you with this gem "My mask of sanity is beginning to slip".

TBN OUT

Peaces and Creases

P.S.- I'm not as crazy as this post sounds

P.S.S.- Or am I.......?

I "Love" Beer

I like beer. You know what I like even more? Free beer. I been getting free beer for a while now, and let me tell you, it is amazing. I get to drink when I want, where I want, how much I want. It is great, let me tell ya. However, sometimes I'm not in the mood for beer. Maybe I have a headache, or a stomach ache etc. When this happens I ask the beer to turn into, oh I don't know, lets say Pepto Bismal. So when I open my next free beer, to my shock it still tastes like beer. Granted, it's free, but I want Pepto. I should absolutely definitively unequivocally get what I want no matter what. Right, you feel me? Is that too much to ask? I mean you deliver the beer to me at no costs, so why can't you turn it into Pepto? THAT'S WHAT I WANT RIGHT NOW!

Oh ok, you can't turn beer into Pepto. So basically what are you good for then?

Beer vendor: Well ma'am there is not a lot of vendors that give out beer for free. I apologize, we can't turn the beer into Pepto.

Ok you can go...

Are You Here and Mental Illness

This is going to  be a tough one to write so I'll just dive right in. I just finished watching a movie entitled AreYou Here An off the radar movie starring Owen Wilson and Zach Galifianakis. In the film Wilson and Galifianakis play life long best friends. Wilson is the weatherman for a local news station and Galifianakis is for lack of a better term, a bum. He lives in a trailer and all he does is smoke weed all day and scribble in his note paid which he refers to as a book he is working on, when in reality it's just a collection of overly detailed and bazaar random thoughts that he believes will change society for the better. Nevertheless, he is a fun, quirky, jovial, likeable character. He is supported financially (one could argue enabled) by his friend (Owen Wilson) because he doesn't work, if you didn't already surmise that. So Wilson basically hangs out at the trailer home with him and smokes all day with his friend until he has to go in and report the weather. Well at face value Wilson seems like a really good friend looking out for his buddy. However, in the opening scene we see Wilson on a series of several dates, giving the same schpill over and over to each different woman. Some garbage about how is free, happy to be single, yada yada. He even likens being married with kids as another form of prostitution. I won't even attempt to explain his thought process behind that. But he actually believes what he is saying. Long story short Galafianakis's father dies and he inherits a large some of money but at the same time loses is proverbial shit. So with the money he has inherited he can now put the scribblings of his so called book into action and create this utopic society he has always dreamed of. But, his sister challenges their father's will stating that he is incapable of handling such a large sum of money due to mental incompetence. He is forced to see a shrink where he is diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. The doctor attempts to prescribe him medication which he denies, stating something along the lines of he doesn't want to be a sheep like the rest of society walking in a zombie like state simply, working, eating, grabbing, consuming (it's a very poignant speech where he paints a very vivid picture of society, but I'll get back to that). At the hearing the judge awards the settlement to him on the statute the if he is not a harm to himself or anyone else he's can do whatever he wants with the money. "Even if he wants to spend the money on the world's largest hat", he says. So that very same evening they are out at a bar celebrating when he becomes delusional and believes the guy next to him is talking shit where he then attacks the man putting him in the hospital. After the incident he decides he will give the medication a try. He does so and does become what he described to the doctor initially basically a zombie, albeit a responsible one.  So Owen feels like he's lost his friend due to the extreme change in behavior and starts to spiral forcing him to look at himself in the mirror and see his true loneliness. Galafianakis's character even goes as far as to tell him he needs to get his shit together (scratching my head on that one). So eventually he has his moment of clarity so to speak and quits his job at the news station and everyone lives happily ever after.

Whew, that was a lot of words and I haven't even got to the meat and potatoes but now you have some context as to what inspired this particular piece spawned by this particular movie. Let me start by saying that the movie was very well done and if you haven't seen it, its a good watch. There are a lot layers to peel back in this movie and if you haven't guessed already what stood out the most to me was the mental illness aspect and the presumed stigma of anti-depressants and mood stabilizers. I use the term stigma, but I guess that is up for debate depending on how look at it and which side of the debate you fall on. Essentially Galafianakis's character is apprehensive to take the medication because he truly believes that he will lose all sense of self in a drug induced haze and conform to the rest of society. Which for all intents and purposes he does, he becomes a shell of his former self which really pisses his best friend off because he feels he has lost someone very dear to him. Or one could contend that he is just being selfish because ultimately he's just a lonely shallow dude. So it begs the question, is Galafianakas's apprehension to take medication founded? Sure he becomes a responsible contributing member of society, but at what cost?

I'm not going to sit here and pretend to know the answers to these questions bout the movie did make me take a look at myself. In 2004 I was diagnosed with PTSD and was prescribed Zoloft, a mood stabilizer. Later after I really started spiraling out of control going as far as hurting myself, I was then prescribed Lithium which thankfully stopped the skid. So the movie made me ask myself the question: how much has the medication actually changed me? How much of my true self have I actually been robbed of? I'd like to think hardly any but it's hard to self evaluate when it comes to mental issues. Shit, for all I know I could have completely changed and don't realize it. In the movie Galafianakas believes he is the same person he has always been (clearly not the case), but now with clarity. I started this blog back in 2013, I'm not even sure the reason. Recently someone asked me why I have a blog. I can answer that question today (ask me and I'll tell you) but at the time it just seemed like a fun idea. I would have never predicted I would keep up with the practice for this long. So I decided to go back and read some of my old stuff and try and see how, or if I have changed, and to look at my character arc so to speak. Well clearly my content has changed drastically. I started out writing strictly about sports. I went from to writing about sports to writing about war. Then my stuff became very dark and ominous when I was in a really bad place before the Lithium balanced me out. Then I started writing about shit that really amused me. Currently my writing is mainly a social commentary.

So clearly I have changed quite a bit as my blog is a testament to that. However, I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. I don't feel like a zombie and hopefully my self assessment is accurate. I don't know, you tell me. So if I were to weigh in and give my two cents on whether individuals should take psych meds....... My answer is an unequivocal yes. Without them, I doubt I would be here today, real talk. Well that went on for forever, I hope it was worth the read. Stay frosty my friends.

TBN OUT

Peaces and Creases

Fuck Checkbooks

So I roll into Kroger to grab some beer and some chicken to throw on the grill and watch the Rockets game. In and out. Well that's what I thought. I grab my items and head to the self checkout where the line is like 15 deep. I get in line momentarily when I notice a regular checkout with a very short line. So I go to that line. Oops. I get in line and the cashier is like 84 years old so she's not the swiftest cashier. But I'm like fuck, you can't leave a line to go to another line and then return back to the original. You look dumb. So of course I stay in my current line. And this happens: the lady in front of me is just buying balloons and whips out her checkbook! Who the fuck still carries a checkbook?! Is it 1986? To add insult to injury she has a rock on her finger the size of my left testicle (that's the bigger one). Of course she can't find her ID card so that takes more time as she digs through her beach bag of a purse while I contemplate suicide or murder or both. So long story short-I wasted 15 minutes of my life...... Now that I have written this, that experience wasn't (squeaky voice) that bad. Certainly not bad enough to commit homicide. Or was it...?

TBN OUT
Peaces and Creases

P.S.- Those of you that carry a checkbook (yea you baby boomer) beware

Live for Something or Die for Nothing

As I load a bowl I contemplate the word conviction. There are two definitions for this word but as I spark this bowl only one definition truly holds the true meaning of the word. Conviction- a firmly held belief or opinion. This is probably mind blowing to most.... having conviction in what you say/speak. And it is sad, to say the least. If you have discussed/debated/argued with me I tend  to come off as angry. Or I just want to be "right" at all cost. Negative. I don't mean to come off that way but hey, it is what it is. I speak with conviction, not with anger. I am and will always do as such. I find myself getting in discussions with people who lack conviction therefore they proceed to back peddle until I put them in a corner. Then I somehow become the bad guy because I questioned what they have no conviction in. LISTEN, if you don't have any conviction in what you are saying, do me a favor and don't speak. You just walked into a knife fight carrying a spoon! You will not CONVINCE me of anything without actual conviction. Simple as that. If you believe the Holocaust was a farce, or Jesus walked on water, that's fine just be prepared to back up your statements with conviction and facts. Otherwise we are both wasting our breath. I'm high. But that's neither here nor there. Pay attention. I typically get labeled as the "angry black man". You want to know why? Because I speak my mind and do so with conviction. I firmly hold a certain belief and/or opinion. I think I read that somewhere (scratching head emoji). And I stand by it. So I'm not trying to be right. I'm trying to express my conviction and find out if you have any. If you don't, inevitably your lack of conviction will look you straight in the face. At this point I'm usually cursed at, told to leave, or swung at (Never turns out well for either party. I'm in jail, you're in the hospital... yada yada). But I digress. What the fuck do I know anyway?

TBN OUT

Peaces and Creases

P.S.- There would be no revolutions without conviction.

WORLDS COLLIDE! Children's Softball- Part One

Being the other guy is a roller coaster/waterslide/ skydive filled with little land mines that may pop up at any moment (bouncing betty). However, as the other guy, you don't even know that you are walking into a mine field. Once you step on one, you simply have to take the shrapnel from a random explosion you had nothing to do with and quietly adhere to your own wounds. Because the mine field that you inadvertently walked into is a world that you are not only unfamiliar with...., you can't even have a reaction to said mine that just shattered your shin bone. You have to silently endure.

So the world I referred to just above is a network of people that know, perceive to know about everyone in that network. There are certain circles within the network which rival those of High School but mind you they are grown adults. Don't let age fool you. We as Americans can easily revert back to High School in the blink of an eye. The immaturity, thoughtlessness of youth, athletic acumen, short sightedness caused by hormones, and so on and so forth. But High School ended 20 years ago, well for me at least.

So now I am the other guy unexpectedly dropped into a war zone called softball where my training in the Marine Corps means absolutely nothing (underhand pitches and hand grenades). I have no idea how to navigate, my compass is useless. I have only my wits and charm to stay alive in this world they call softball. I have seen softball and even played it, BUT when it comes to kid's softball there is a whole nother underbelly that the unknowing casual spectator that does not see. I was that spectator until I unwittingly took the blue pill.

To be Continued...

Peaces and Creases
TBN

That Guy: The Guy that really just doesn't get it and refuses to

I'm pissed. I can't take this shit anymore. She's always up in my ass for no fucking reason. You know what, fuck it! I'll show her. Hee grabs his keys and enters the garage where his 1998 Camaro is sitting which has been neglected because she never gets taken out, as the registration has been out for some time now. Hee opens the driver side door with authority, waking her up from a long slumber. Hee hops in the driver seat and fires up the engine, even revs it a couple of times. Camaro is excited to finally go out for a spin. However, the garage door never opens. That's right bitch, this will change your ways. Hee inhales deeply as the fumes from the exhaust begin to feel the small garage. Suddenly the garage door begins to open....

Oh shit what time is it? How long was I passed out for? As the garage door rises he sees her car pulling into the drive way....

What the fuck is this motherfucker doing in the garage with his stupid ass car running. Rreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaly! He thinks he's going to kill himself in my garage, when my kids will be home shortly! OH NO SIR! She jumps out of her vehicle and runs up to the driver side window. Hee turns and looks at her somewhat half asleep. POW! His head snaps back. BOOM! His head bounces off of the steering wheel. Hee is quickly snapped back to reality and she is in his face like a Velociraptor waiting for a raw steak. "You fucking think you are going to kill yourself in my HOUSE when my kids are about to be home!" She pulls him from the vehicle. "You kill yourself somewhere else you selfish prick." Hee lies on the garage pavement in tears somewhat ashamed for his actions because hee really never fully intended on killing himself. She storms into the house to find empty bottles of liquor strewn about. Not exactly anything new, but this little stunt takes the cake. She grabs her phone as she hears him wailing in the background, "Why won't you love me!?" The phone begins to ring....

"Hello? Oh hey what's up you sound a little frantic. Wait he tried to do WHAT?! Ah fuck. I'm on my way." He immediately jumps up and grabs his keys and rushes out of the door without any explanation to the friends who are sitting in his living room.....

He pulls up to the house (to simplify things, let's just call him Jorge). Jorge pulls up to the house and sees him sitting on the tailgate of his truck. Jorge parks and gets out of his vehicle, Fuck me what do I say to him? He walks up to the driveway:
           Jorge: What's going on, talk to me? You are really scaring some people.
           Him: Ah shit she called you didn't she?
           Jorge: Yea, and I think for good reason.
Jorge sits down on the tailgate with him.
           Jorge: You care to explain the reason why I am here?
Hee is somewhat calm and almost jovial for someone who just tried to commit suicide.
           Him: Well Jorge, I don't think you would get it. You just fuck hookers and deal drugs.
That's an outrageous statement, but just go with it.
           Jorge: Well why don't you try me?
           Him: Man, I just can't get ahead (says entitled white male). I mean I'm a veteran, shouldn't
                     that count for something? You know what I mean?
Actually no, I was in the Marine Corps and you were in the Navy. 2 completely different experiences.
           Jorge: I know exactly what you mean. But how did we get where we are right now? Is it the
                      the job that is stressing you out or what?
           Him: Na, I lost that job after a week. And she got pissed! People have panic attacks, get over it
                    geez.
           Jorge: So you're not working right now?
           Him: Na, it's been a little over a month and she's totally up my ass. I mean she did pay for me                       to come out here from Georgia and supports me financially, but WHAT THE FUCK                           MAN! I am a man but she treats me like a child.
          Jorge: So let me get this straight. She paid for you to move here, supports you financially, and                        provides a roof over your head. I'm confused as to why you would want to commit
                     suicide.
          Him: You just don't get it J. I mean, she drinks all the time too. Sometimes she even smokes
                    pot.
          Jorge: Umm ok, but you do those things too. However, she has a full time job which pays your                      bills. She is also raising two children. So I don't think your focus should be on her. You                        should take a look in the mirror and ask yourself if you have actually grown up. For fuck                      sake 2 months ago you were living with your mother.
          Him: Like I said Jorge, YOU DON'T GET IT! Anyway, I'm gonna grab some 99 Bananas from                    the liquor store, you want anything? You would have to give me money for it of course.                      That bitch only put a quarter tank of gas in my truck, so I'm strapped for cash.
Jorge looks at him in disbelief.
          Jorge: How do you even have money to buy booze?
          Him: Haha, I pawned some of her shit.
          Jorge: Na, I'm good man. I need to be getting back anyways.
          Him: Suit yourself.... Pussy
Hee peels off in his truck as Jorge stands shaking his head. The door inside of the garage opens...
          Her: Is he gone?
Jorge turns and looks at her...
          Jorge: Yea, but we don't have long until he gets back.

The End

Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction and none the characters in this fictitious story resemble anybody that I know or have ever met. If anything seems familiar to anyone reading this it is by sheer coincidence.

Peaces and Creases
TBN

Super Bowl SHIT SHOW- Part 1- First Person Perspective of Visitor 1

My friend calls me up and asks if I want to go to a Super Bowl party. I aint doin shit so I say sure. Little did I know what I was getting myself into. My friend picks me up and we head over to the house where this party is being held. Mind you I have never met anyone at this party save one person I barely know. We walk to the front door and my friend knocks. Nothing. There are cars out front and we can hear the football game being played (can hear Tony Romo "predicting every play before it happens"), so I know we are at the right place. No one comes to the door so my friends says fuck it and walks in and I follow.

A Shit Show is defined as: a situation or event marked by chaos or controversy. That is literally what I walked into... a SHIT SHOW. As we enter I see a dude chopping up watermelon. Nothing crazy about that. As I follow my friend in, introductions are made and the guy cutting the watermelon I find out is the host of this shin dig. After I shake his hand, this happens- This gentleman reaches into the back of his pants, like inside the waistband, and pulls out a piece of dough that was p,resumably between his ass cheeks. Bare with me here. He proceeds to take, said piece of dough and shove it into the face of this tiny extremely loud woman. As I stand there completely befuddled as to what is going on, she then grabs a piece of raw dough, and sticks it inside the front of her jeans where her chi chi is located and then attempts to rub it in the face of the man hosting the party. I'm thinking what the fuck did I just walk into? A SHIT SHOW! No other way to describe it than Shit Show. And that's only the beginning of the night. That was only my initial intro to what would only become more chaotic and controversial as the night went on.

To be continued....

Peaces and Creases
TBN out

Super Bowl SHIT SHOW- Intro

So last night I hosted a Super Bowl party. WOW! I'm still trying to figure out what the fuck happen. Yea... the end of the night/beginning of the morning went something like this: Roommate: walking torwards his car- "You guys still awake?" Response: "Yea, what the hell are you doing, where you going?" Roommate: "Um.... to work". Response: "Why are you going to work at 2am?" Roommate: "Dude, it's 6". Response: "Ahhhhhh".

That's the end of the evening. The events that led up to that are far too multiple to include in to one post. So I am going to attempt to pick and choose the actions and or events that contributed to the SHIT SHOW that I so graciously endured. Disclaimer: Everything that I am about to write is a work of fiction based on true events that took place as I perceived them. So if you are reading this and you somehow believe that any character that I describe resembles you in any way, you are mistaken (hehe).

To be continued.......

Peace and Creases
TBN out

KICK ROCKS

Ok. I'm back but not in a nice way. Real talk. Good intentions pave the way to hell. I'm done, I throw in the towel (figuratively of course). I got fast hands and sometimes I would like to display my certain set of skills on certain individuals. However, I hung my gloves up a while back and violence never got anyone anywhere. I strike with the keyboard these days.

Now that we are nice and settled in let's get started. I did the best I could. Hung around for longer than I should. Mind you,  against the advice of my friends and against my better judgment. But hey that's who I am. Helping others is ingrained in my DNA. That being said, I ask my self the question, is it worth it because more often than not, helping, ultimately ends up biting me in the ass, and not in a good way. The list of people that I cut out of my life seems to be getting longer. Perhaps it's me. I often use the phrase "what's the common denominator"? As I evaluate the list of folks that keep falling by the wayside I have to ask the question: Is it me?. Am I the common denominator? It is a fair and valid question. Haha, no the fuck it isn't. I had ya'll going for a second. I know who the fuck I am and where I stand on any issue and if you ask anyone that knows me well, they will tell you the same. You are probably thinking: "What an arrogant bastard". No. I just happen to be comfortable in my own skin which is hard for most to grasp. Not my problem. Because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, YOU WANT ME ON THAT WALL, YOU NEED ME ON THAT WALL. So while you may take my kindness for weakness, you will ultimately end up on my proverbial list. This may seem harsh, and my existence may seem grotesque and incomprehensible to you.... I simply don't give a fuck.

It is my wall and I will protect it by any means necessary. I refuse to sacrifice myself for those who cannot see the greatness in me and/or take advantage of that greatness. I'd rather you said thank you and went on your way. Either way, I don't give a damn what anyone thinks of me.

Peaces and Creases
TBN out

P.S.- I'm not really as angry as that just sounded.