Xanadu Revival.

*flip is currently chronicling his attempts to get rich. Oddly enough, flip's exploits are being recounted alphabetically. (That's A-Z, for the uninitiated.) flip is also referring to himself in the third person. ' Cause flip's just cool like that.

The only thing that matters anymore is content. People go out of their minds coming up with the new meme, or app, or... whatever, that can get a million eyeballs on it. 'Cause where the eyeballs are, the cash will follow. Or that's what we are to believe, anyway.

   But why are people practically killing themselves coming up with original, inventive ideas, when there are inarguable classics like 1980's Xanadu, starring a radiant Olivia Newton-John and the sublime Michael Beck, waiting to be mined? 

   So without further ado, I now announce that HILL BLOCKS VIEW, will immediately suspend operations so I can throw the full weight of my passion and creativity, into my new true love; a reimagining of Xanadu, presented as a weekly webisode. Starring: my cat Maxx, as Sonny, Me as Kira, Olivia Newton-John, as Sparky the plucky little black shoeshine boy that I created just so the "Neutron-Bomb" would stop calling me, like, seventeen times a day begging, to be part of this production and crying and whining and geez with that Australian accent it's just so grating and fine here's a part now leave me alone, and Gene Kelly, reprising his award winning role as Danny, the stereotypical downtrodden Jazz guy... the role obviously had to be rewritten, seeing as Gene Kelly has been dead, 'lo these many years. Danny now, inexplicably, lies in a graveyard under the headstone of Gene Kelly. Really experimental stuff. Although, he has been getting some rave reviews on some of the early footage. In fact the Village Voice recently opined; "Gene Kelly has taken method acting to a whole other level, he hasn't been this compelling in decades. Do I smell Oscar? Oops, no. That was just death actually."

   S0, stay tuned for updates about the groundbreaking premiere, presented in several-D, stereophonic audio on a Computer screen near you. If you live close to me. Otherwise it won't probably be near you. It will only be playing in my mom's basement on an old Amiga, hooked up to a Betamax.

   But it'll probably be really great. And would somebody please do a Grease reunion so Olivia Newton-John will move off my couch? If I have to hear "You're the one that I want," one more time...

Wasting My Life On TV And Movies.

*flip is currently chronicling his attempts to get rich. Oddly enough, flip's exploits are being recounted alphabetically. (That's A-Z, for the uninitiated.) flip is also referring to himself in the third person. ' Cause flip's just cool like that.

There is a saying that says, "if you do a thing you love, you will never work a day in your life." I have decided to take that advice to heart. There is nothing in the world that gives me more pleasure, just a pure sense of doing exactly what I'm meant to be doing, than being drunk. It's just so awesome! If I could only be wasted for a living, that would truly be my dream job.
   In almost every movie ever made there is the drunk guy who slurs something funny and stupid, or mumbles some sage advice. In the credits, he is always listed as Drunk Guy Number 2; I want to be that guy! I already do that for free. I have started interviewing for upcoming projects, and just to make sure the producers know I am dedicated, I always show up in character.

*Update: Nobody would hire me. Apparently, Drunk Guy Number 2 isn't really drunk! He's just an actor, pretending to be wasted. G'ah. What a travesty!

Validate You!

*flip is currently chronicling his attempts to get rich. Oddly enough, flip's exploits are being recounted alphabetically. (That's A-Z, for the uninitiated.) flip is also referring to himself in the third person. ' Cause flip's just cool like that.

I used to want to help people sort through their problems, give them some sound counsel and tools they could use to change their attitude. And then I realized there isn't any money in that. People don't want to actually change, or to work on their own shortcomings. They just want validation, someone to tell them that they are awesome and that everybody else is a giant douche.

   You are special person, unique and wonderful! Chuck Norris wants to be in your fan club. All those people you are in conflict with are complete clueless jerk-holes. None of your problems are your fault.
   Make checks payable to: Mr. Fantastic Wonderpants at PO Box 42 Albuquerque, NM

Uvula Enhancer.

*flip is currently chronicling his attempts to get rich. Oddly enough, flip's exploits are being recounted alphabetically. (That's A-Z, for the uninitiated.) flip is also referring to himself in the third person. ' Cause flip's just cool like that.

If you're like most people, the first thing you notice on a prospective mate is the size of their uvula. Don't feel guilty, it's natural, everybody is checkin' out everybody else's uvula. But what if you are one of those unfortunate few, born with a tiny uvula? Are you just destined to die alone? Unloved; in this uvula obsessed culture?
   Not if I have anything to say about it! I've invented a prosthetic uvula that you simply staple unto your existing uvula to give your uvula that full and sexy look that hot wanton people you would like to sleep with, find so appealing.
   Order yours today. Just send a check for $34.99, a money order for $15.73, three special edition Lincoln pennies, and a travelers check in the amount of $.42, to: Flip's Hot Sexy Uvula, PO Box 4242, Albuquerque, NM USA and in 13-57 weeks, your anemic, flabby uvula will be a distant memory. Hello ladies!

Transient-O-Gram

*flip is currently chronicling his attempts to get rich. Oddly enough, flip's exploits are being recounted alphabetically. (That's A-Z, for the uninitiated.) flip is also referring to himself in the third person. ' Cause flip's just cool like that.

I was pulling off of the freeway recently, lost in thought, contemplating the best way to tell my wife that I was sorry that I forgot our anniversary, but I would still like some sweet, sweet loving, when I was startled by a thump on my window. I looked up and saw a bedraggled man holding a "Will Work For Food" sign. 

   EUREKA! I gave him a five spot and Transient-O-Gram® was born. I drove him to my house, he rang the door bell, and when my wife answered he told her, more incoherently and profanity laced than I ever could, that her husband was sorry about the anniversary thing but would still like to have some sexy, fun times.

   It didn't work. My wife hates me now and I live in the kids playhouse in the backyard. But that doesn't detract from the genius of Transient-O-Gram®. On practically every corner of the city is a host of eager, untapped workers. And for around $10, they can deliver your message. 

Would you like to wish your Aunt Robert a Happy Birthday? Send a Transient-O-Gram®.

Want to tell that girl at the store that you'd like to bag her groceries? Send a Transient-O-Gram®.

Need to let Vito the Blade know that you'll be a little short this month? Send a Transient-O-Gram®.

Order your Transient-O-Gram® today!

Sleep Deprivation Really Means...

*flip is currently chronicling his attempts to get rich. Oddly enough, flip's exploits are being recounted alphabetically. (That's A-Z, for the uninitiated.) flip is also referring to himself in the third person. ' Cause flip's just cool like that.


I have often wondered, if offered the chance to have more money or more hours in each day, which would I choose? Definitely money. Because it's impossible to get more than twenty-four hours into a standard day; right?! Not so fast, friend. What if I told you I've discovered a way create up to eight, yes EIGHT, extra hours every day? Would you like to hear about that? Would you like it enough that you would pay me, in three easy payments, the low, low amount of $19.99? No? Hmm. How about I tell you my plan and then you pay me what you think it's worth, in three easy payments. Great! Here's my plan; stop sleeping! It's so wasteful. While you are sleeping, you aren't painting the kitchen, or getting exercise, or watching your shows, or (my personal hobby) writing the Great American Novelette. So stop it. Just follow me through the steps of the program, and I'll show you how easy it really is.

16HSLS: (Hours Since Last Sleep): I had a full day of work and then spent a wonderful evening with the family. Now it's time for my extra hours to begin. Looking forward to a night of fruitful writing.

23HSLS: Browsed StumbleUpon for three hours, followed by opening and shutting the fridge door trying to solve the light conundrum for an hour or two, and then discovering that pop tarts are freakin hilarious, somewhere around four in the A.M. But at least I have a good solid hour to write before getting ready for work. 

40HSLS: Work sucked. Family was unusually loud and annoying. But now, it's the magic hours. 

41HSLS: Work sucked. Family was unusually loud and anno... Wait. I already wrote that. Need to focus...                Where's those funny cats? 

44HSLS: Did you hear that? What the hell was that, it sounded like an eyeball breathing. SH*T! Quick, I'll hide in... snxxxxt. WHA...?! I'm hungry. Where's the kitchen go to?

45HSLS: HAHAHAHAHahahahah. POP TARTS. hahhahahahaha. They pop and they're tarts. But they're aren't tart or poppy. HAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA. snxzzt. hhaahaaAHAAAHA!

48HSLS: The devil-woman is trying to kill me. She keeps shooting these little evil alien bastards out of her tummy, and they intend to suck up all my life essence, leaving me a lifeless husk. Probably make a piñata out of the husk. Fill it with Pop Tarts. Dad must be an acronym for dead essence dummy-head. They won't take me alive, dammit! This tinfoil will keep me safe. 

64HSLS: No job. Said I looked terrible and I wasn't allowed to wear my safety tinfoil hat. Good riddance, they must be in league with the devil-wife. Hid in the cupboard until everybody went to bed, Pop Tarts are my only friend left in the world. 

67HSLS: Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop...                Pop. 

68HSLS: Pop Tarts are inside of foil. I'm inside of foil. The Pop Tarts want to get inside of me! Damn you Beelzubeatrice, is there no safe place from your accursed machina... u. uh     uh

70HSLS: uh.                       tions?   Who said that?                    Huh?

72HSLS: AAAaaaaaAAAAAARGH! AAAaaaaaAAAAAARGH! AAAaaaaaAAAAAARGH! AAAaaaaaAAAAAARGH! AAAaaaaaAAAAAARGH! 

Racy Clothing

*flip is currently chronicling his attempts to get rich. Oddly enough, flip's exploits are being recounted alphabetically. (That's A-Z, for the uninitiated.) flip is also referring to himself in the third person. ' Cause flip's just cool like that.

It is funny to me, that in this enlightened day and age we live in, people (especially men) find it necessary to have to buy their racy clothing in secret, under the cover of darkness, like it is some disgraceful thing, in back alleys, and disgusting corners of the internet, full of shame, like a junkie looking for a fix, or knowing that nobody would understand, like a black guy from Detroit that votes Republican.
   But it doesn't have to be that way. I say NO MORE. I wear racy things and I'm proud. And now I sell racy things. My official site isn't up yet, but here are a few of the items that flip's Racy Wear, will sell.

Speedos. Oh yeah.

Speedos you can run in, too.

Race suits also make for excellent lounge wear.

Like he's wearing nothing at all.

Very aerodynamic.

Faster than lightning.