September 2nd, 2002: It's a rainy Labor Day. I don't really have anything relevant to say today, so perhaps it's time for some lame-ass poem:
The Title, by Joe Pleiman

What's in a name? A title?
What's in a garden? A plant?
What's in my pants? A problem?
What's in the future? A past?
What's in a Phish concert? A bunch of silly neo-hippies?
What's in China? A Great Wall?
What's in Phil's bedroom? A smelly sock?
What's in... la la la
Me, I got babies with rabies, baby!
Rock on rock on, you crazy crazy lady of the NIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!!!
Shiiiiit. Where da whores be with my taco bell?

August 23rd, 2002: Well, I'm a working man again. I gotz me a job! By the way, I was fired from my old job a few months ago. My old boss, Jason Jones, is a big jerk. That's not slander or whatever either, cause it's a fact. Granted, sometimes I'm a bit of a looney bird. And granted, everyone's a jerk. But also, I'm very important and special and delicate, and anyone who goes against me, is a lover of terrorism and hatred and Tim Allen. Dave Stimmler is also a bit of an asshole. He was my boss's boss. He likes to treat people like digital cattle. He likes to touch young girls too. Well... maybe he doesn't like to, but he does it anyway... maybe it's a wierd tourette's kinda thing. No matter what way you look at it... 1 + 1 + 1 = 3. And all 1's are equal. And triangles are cool and creepy and the Ancient Egyptians knew all about it. Too bad these Raelians haven't figured out the importance of the triangle. Anyway, it smells like garbage in our apartment. Why folks leave trash at the top of the stairs instead of in actual trash cans outside, I'll never know! I'm tired. I should nap. I'm old... I should wrinkle. I will and do. Baldness is on the rise anyhoo. Happy Birthday, Marilyn. I wonder, in times like these, where all the people from my past are. When I was last back home in Maryland, I drove past Susan Genecki, with whom I went to grade school with. I had a big crush on her in the 2nd grade. Now she's worrying about the attack of the cottage cheese thighs. 100 hundred years ago, I'd have had 4 kids by now and a log cabin and bullets and a gun!!! And that'd be without the luxury of television and automobiles and zippers. Actually... when the hell were zippers invented? Whoever invented the zipper was quite the smarty pants. Woohoo! Everyone's going canoeing this weekend. Everyone... except me. I'm still recovering. By the way, I'm a proud organ donor (on my driver's license.) I think everyone should be. I mean... if you're not... isn't that kinda selfish as hell? I mean, you're not even alive? Why the hell do you need a spleen if your dead? I doubt the soul resides in the spleen... so letting someone use your spleen isn't gonna stop you from travelling the universe as an energy beam, or going to heaven or hell or whatever happens when you die. Probably, when you die... you just die and that's it. The Universe keeps on swirling and spitting. Somewhere, on a planet very far from here, right now... there is a water planet with many dolphin-like animals. They are having a good time. They are frolicking in the kelp! Little do they know that right now, here on Earth, Britney Spears is dealing with the traumatic divorce of her parents. But aren't we all suffering and dealing with the divorce? Aren't we all shedding drama? The clouds can't compete via rain with the flood of human tears running down the sewers. Everyone's a victim here. How could they be so selfish?!?!?!?!?!?! Damn you, Spearses!!!!

August 18th, 2002: I have been sick. Very very sick. With Mono. It's only Mono. For a while there, I thought the chills and fevers and hallucinations were going to render me some sort of warrior... or at the very least, a noble rock n roll casualty. Alas... it's just the kissing disease. Should I be ashamed I didn't get it sooner? Was I weak when, as I lay on the bathroom floor, I imagined that I was dying? In the hospital, I kept believing that the experimenting was soon to begin... that soon, the glass shards would be inserted into you-know-where and I would scream and they would measure the volume of my pain using an antiquated hydraulic testing device. Alas... it never happened. They put Benadryl into my IV and I became light-headed and slept for the first time in 4 days. And without those horribly over-lucid dreams. Thank you Judith for caring so much... thank you all for helping me fend off defeat. I am still not well. ... ... ... I'm not sure I like all of Apocalypse Now. "First Blood" is such a fantastic film. "Nashville" is damned pointless and stupid... it comes across as the work of a drunk fool. "UHF" is a forgotten masterpiece. "The Wicker Man" is dumb. D. U. M. B. DUMB! "Play Misty for Me" is a suprisingly accomplished film. Though dated... it's genuinely creepy. And the setting is so beautiful... Carmel, California. Is there any more beautiful place? Big SUR!!! HEllo! The world's best. I still have a little itchy bump on my left arm from where the IV was. It makes me feel hardcore, like a heroin junkie... like John Lennon. Yeah man... bein' on the ropes... nothin's more rock n roll. I wish they still made "The Young Ones". That show, despite being incredibly depressing for some reason, was one of television's funniest. There were two... TWO!!! bats in our apartment last night.

July 18th, 2002: It's been a while since an update. This much I admit. Oh well. Let's see... what's gone on lately? Well, the French won the World Cup, which was very exciting. Tom Selleck finally came out of the closet and tried to make it with Eminem. That was cool. I went to another one of Steven Spielberg's "Diaper Parties" while I was out in Los Angeles. Always a good time. I bought a Lake House. Her name is "Pleasant Point." I bought a boat too. Her name is "Aggravated Assault." Me and my girlfriend, "Samantha", went to China to visit the Great Wall. It was cool, but I was a little dissapointed by the lack of Walmarts and McDonalds nearby. Say what you want about Chicago... the Wendys in Chicago are superb! Honestly... L.A. 7/11s have really good coffee. What's up with that? I wish I had a job right now. Or some sort of career or future or SOMETHING!!! Dammit... why couldn't I just be in the Beatles? Or Radiohead? Or Whitney Houston? Anyway, I've put up a new demo on the bottom of the page. It has nothing to do with anything... it's Weezer meets Dave Matthews. Pure brilliance. I also have put a Chizelle demo up, for anyone who cares.

March 19th, 2002: Happy Birthday to my brother TOM!!! He's 24. I'm 26. What the hell is going on here?!?!?! It starts with the potty training, then, before you (or anyone else) knows it, you're an old person. When you make babies, you're also making the world's future senior citizens. Just think of it. Meanwhile, I've decided that doing stuff for the good of medical science is a complete load of terrorist attack. Godammit... what was so wrong with drinking from the river and pissing in the woods? Other than the rampant malaria and incurable hookworm-related maladies, shit was okay back in the day. My friend Bianca got me a book for my birthday (way back on February 22nd... a great bowling party was had... you missed a good time if you weren't there) and it's called "The Eleventh Hour" by Graeme Base. It's sort of a kid's book, but it's killer diller. Um... let's see... what else? Um... well, come to the Midway Cafe on the 22nd of March if you wanna see a killer Hip Tanaka show. Hellzyeah!!! Personally, I don't think anyone should be allowed to touch genetic engineering technology without reading scores of literature on evolution, and perhaps some good children's books (I'd recomend the entire Beatrix Potter catalogue.) For fuck's sake, do we really NEED designer babies? For fuck's sake, is death really a bad thing? For fuck's sake... what the fuck are these ninnyshits doing? These dimbulbs are the same type of people who take that pivotal corner orange from the pyramid of oranges in the grocery store... thinking it would be best to obtain that ripest orange, not realizing that that orange isn't just an orange... it's a key element of a greater whole!!! And what happens? They grab the orange, then all the oranges come tumbling down onto the floor, then Mr. Dimbulb backs away, orange still in hand, and slips on a different, bruised and moldy orange, and topples over, flipping the ripe orange into a meat-slicer and landing face down in a vat of prickly pears... OUCH!!!

February 9th. 2002: Let's talk politics. The only reason to live is to vote. Right? Umm... no, Joe, wrong. Who said that? A PopTart? What is that. Yes, you know. I do? But seriously, you ever feel that you've finally found the light... the reason to live, and it blinds you, and then you get lost, and you can't find the source of the light? Doesn't that suck? It never has happened to me, but everyone else out there seems to have this blind look in their eyes, like they know what they want, but they don't know what it is, cause it won't reveal itself to them. Probably it's all just about fucking. Or aliens. One of the two. Or maybe not. Maybe it's all about energy and photons and infinite loops of non-loopishness. I don't know. One thing I know... "It" cannot be found anywhere inside NBC. I don't care if they got the fricking Olympics.

January 18th. 2002: I just took an online IQ test and apparently I'm a genius... but not a "High Genius" like my buddy Mike. What a truckload of truck-sized crapola particles!!! Oh wait... no, he's just a regular genius too, but a 7point higher genius... I guess his mathematical and math abilities don't completely override his eating of fast food. Anyway, I've put up a demo of a way old song down below. It's called "Erasing". I dunno if it's any good. Just thought I'd throw it up there for you gangster-monkeys. Also, my friend Susannah is ignoring me and it's breaking my heart. Can anyone help me? What I did this time, I don't actually know. Why am I such a fool?

January 16th. 2002: Just got back from Maryland. Ahhh... lovely sprawling suburbia. While in Maryland, I slept a lot, and I had 4 Chicken McNuggets for a buck. Yummmmm. My family didn't really fight. That was nice. I bought Close Encounters of the Third Kind on DVD, therefore I am now better than you. Flying was scary. I thought I might get blown up. Alas, I did not. Thank god.

January 9th. 2002: I just woke up. I'm tired. Fatigue is a curse sent by Satan to punish god, but cause God can't get cursed, the curse bounces off and takes itself out on us. Turning lead to gold isn't as hard as turning fire into a Burger King Burger. BLEEEECH. Burger King is Nasty. What's in the news today? I don't know. I haven't looked. Important: My friend JT's movie is in Sundance. Frickin' Sundance. He's there right now, getting schnarlies from the likes of Saved By the Bell castmembers. Check out his movie: Soft for Digging. While I admit I too wish I had a film in Sundance, thankfully I am not jealous, for I like JT and wish him well. If someone like, I dunno, say, John Cohen (you don't know him) had a film in Sundance, I'd be pissing lightning off a telephone pole about now. Don't forget to check out the demo for "I Just Wanna Hold You" at the bottom of the page.

January 8th. 2002, part 2: Dave Thomas, founder of Wendy's is dead. That sucks. He was my hero. I always wanted to make movie with him. Here's what the plot would've been: October, 1954. Out in the fields, a young Dave Thomas shucks some corn. He grows dizzy and wakes up in the middle of the night, not sure of what has happened. 2002. A new world is upon us. Aliens invade... but is it really an invasion? No one knows, for they don't speak our language. Only one man possesses the knowledge. Dave Thomas: Alien Interperter. I think that's not the correct spelling maybe perhaps. Anyway, check out the new song below.

January 8th. 2002: Okay, there is so much to discuss. First off, there is a girl out there named Heather Doherty and I hate her guts. She better have a good excuse for being so horrible. Secondly, I'd like to say that while in times of depression or anxiety, I think I want to be a better person. But what does that mean? Aren't we basically all selfish and in search of our own private Kid Rock lifestyles? Hellzyeah biznotchareno!!! Royal Tenenbaums is a good film, but not nearly as good as Night of the Demons 2. Royal Tenenbaums has drama, Night of the Demons 2 has lipstick that turns into a snake and then crawls up a slut's legs and into her crotch, taking control of her wretched soulless flesh. Goodbye 2001: you were such a dissapointment. 2002 brings us the rerelease of ET, sans guns. The hell's up with that? When will geniuses learn that being a genius doesn't entitle you to being a retard. Apparently I love to eat candy. I think I want to write another screenplay. What should this next one be about? I'm thinking it will be something about two young sisters, orphaned when their father dies. He leaves behind only his Go-Kart track. But his evil sister wants to get her hands on it. Hmmm. Maybe not. I still really want to do a movie about a young married couple on their first road trip with their first baby. Ideas anyone? Should it be funny or scary? I just don't know anymore. Other things to mention: I've posted a relatively new Joe tune down below. It's one of my cheesiest yet. Is it good or boring or what? You be the judge.

December 15th. 2001: This page was easier to keep up to date when I had a crappy temp job and sat in front of glowing screen, brain a-melting for 8 hours a day. Alas, the WTC is still in ruins and I still don't believe it. Does anybody? And now I serve rich old coots and hot young cooter-owners tea. Thus is my life. I just joined the undefeated Hip Tanaka. We are working on a new rock album. I've submitted two songs. Check one of 'em out below. It's called "Ninja Lord" and I think it's FUCKING HIT!!!

December 12th. 2001: Shit... I gotta get back on the ball, gangstas.

November 8th. 2001: It's been a while since I updated this. I admit. Partially, that's cause no one reads this page. It's also because I've been wallowing in misery, for I learned the other night, in the most annoying way possible, that I am one of the biggest jerks in the world. Currently alive that is. I'm serious. The order goes something like this: Worst: Bin Laden; Next Worse: Johnny from the Karate Kid; Next Next Worse: Me. Seriously... I'm being goofy, but the situation is serious and dire. This is a heavy burden to bear... or is it bare? I don't know. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore. Forever for the rest of my life... no matter the good I do, no matter the success I have, I will always know I am scum. Doesn't this suck? Everyday, a friend talks me down and makes me feel better... and then I go to sleep, and replay the events from the other night over and over again in my head while I dream, and I wake up with a new found understanding of guilt and self-hatred. It sucks. Sucks sucks sucks. I wish I could be forgiven for being such a dissapointment... for being such a liar and drunken fool. But that wouldn't even solve a thing. Crap crap oh skinny crappity shit. What am I supposed to do? And if it all wasn't bad enough... I don't even have a job. SUCK SUCK SUCKS!!! Someone, please give me a lawn to mow!!! And I could use one of those emergency labotomies. I have no money. The only money I am going to spend today is going to be on Tums, because I have heartburn. Meanwhile, there is a new, new, solo Joe demo down below that I'd like some feedback on. It's called "Susannah, Please Forgive Me" and it was written before the events of the other night, but it's more relevant now, unfortunately. It's too long, I know, but I'd like suggestions.

November 2nd. 2001: How you gangstas doing? Eh? How y'allz to the ballz to the wallz doing? I'm going to NY. Don't have much to say. I'm broke, but not broken. Just dumb.

November 1st. 2001: It's now November. Boohoo. The dream is over. There is a new Joe song down at the bottom of the page. Actually, it's really old, but it's a new posting. I think it's cool. It's called "Your Family" and suprise suprise, it's about domestic stuff.

october 31st. 2001: Hot damn!!! It's HALLOWEEN!!! I ruined a pair of pants the other night when I dressed up as a Robot Mummy. Don't ask me how. So, what are you gonna do for Halloween? Go TrickorTreating? Go Kidnapping? Cause, honestly, you gotta pick one of the two. There are no other options. So, everyone, be careful tonight, cause terrorists may ver well be planning your demise right now. Isn't it great? We got a modern day Hitler. Now we can stop hunting down ghosts. Okay... that sounded really harsh, but that's what you come to the Joe Page for: Insanity and Hard-biting Satire. Right? I will not be censored!!! (spelling?) Taco Bell Taco Bell Taco Bell!

october 30th. 2001: More terrorist attack warnings. I fear for the worst. Especially for my friends in NYC. Ohhhh Susannah, please for give me!!! Don't know what that was all about. I just woke up. My brain feels less like pudding today, more like jello. Green Jello. "THREE LITTLE PIGS!!!" What a stupid song. You guys see that new "Playboy's Craziest Parties" video that they got available on tv now? I gotta buy that shit. And not watch it... cause how annoying, am I right? Pay 10 bucks to see all that you can't have cause you spend 10 bucks on stupid crap like that!!! Fuckin' A!

october 269th. 2001: Ahhh. Recovery is good and delicious. This weekend I went to the Jack-o-lantern festival in Keene, New Hampshire. 22,000 carved and lit-up pumpkins. It was truly one of the most amazing things I've ever seen. America is still kickin' it, yo, Halloween-style. Ain't no terrorist gonna steal my Halloween. I'm trying to think if there's anything else worth noting. Well... the cat just meowed at me and I let it outside. I guess that's pretty fuckin' important. What else? Um... support your local firemen: start fires!!!! Wait... no, don't do that... now you think I'm a jerk or something... Please don't. Today is Monday and I want to record a song, but I don't want it to suck. Any suggestions? It's gonna be something for the upcoming Summer Villains album. All right... time for a poem:
Look at little little birdie on little little branch,
Look at little little doggie beneath little little tree,
Look at little little old lady next to big big dog,
Look at big big dog next to little little doggie,
Look at big big dog jump on little little old lady and eats her,
Look at little little birdie on little little branch as he looks at little little doggie,
Now the little little doggie and the little little birdie laugh together, cause it's funny when big big doggies eat little little old ladies,
Wait a second...
No it's not...
I'm sorry.

october 26th. 2001: Yo, dorks, Cancer to the Stars is playing this Sunday at O'Brien's. If you like loud crazy shit, Go. If you don't, suck a ball. One. Ball. Suck it. I'm tired like a waterfall... falling over. Weeeeh. Time for to make a brilliant observation: what you see is what you see. How bout that? Impressed? No? okay then... screw you.

october 23rd. 2001: Okay, I'd like to apologize to my millions of readers for not writing something new for the past few days. I've been very busy finishing the Halloween cd. For a minute there, I lost myself. Phew for a minute there, I lost myself. Being in a bad mood requires such energy, which is why the relationship between fatigue and sour grapes perplexes me. Actually, that's not true. It doesn't. I don't really care. So, just to update y'all, the Yankees are going to the World Series again. Again... AGAIN!!! You know what? That's just plain ridiculous. And you see Yankees fans, and they think it's a big deal. Yankees fans need to get a clue. Here's a hint of what the clue should be: Yankees suck. Also, of a sucking status: Mel Gibson and his blue eyes. That guy needs a rectal labotomy. I'm not sure why I think that. Jealousy perhaps? No, of course not. I'm jealous of only one man: Paul McCartney. Why am I jealous of him? Not cause of the money. Not cause of the fame. Not cause of the talent. I'm jealous of McCartney cause he's wearing incredibly comfortable underwear right now, and I'm wearing burlap. Ouch... it rubs!!! I still have a theory about smiling: it's all this whole thing in our brains that we've held onto since we were hungry, savage ape-men, and showing your teeth was like some sort of raw animalistic way of showing you had no fangs and weren't gonna bite. Am I making any sense? Like, smiling developed when we, as humans, started to lose the fangs, stopped being horribly brutal hunters and killers. I like what we've become: cute, furry, kind, and gentle. And we're pretty smart... I mean, have you seen those suspension bridges we built? That shit's fucking cool!