Run on! Hey, hey, hey!

3.4.2k3
Thursday, 27 March, 2003

I've been resisting writing rants about dreams I've had because a pal once told me that he was talking to someone and that person started talking about a dream she'd had and it pissed him off to no end. He didn't give a shit, he told me, what his friend's dream was about. Not one little shit. Well you know what? He don't got a computer anymore, so fuck him. Here ya go: Here's a rant about a dream I had last week. And if you're not careful, you might learn something before it's done.

I had a dream that I was at work and I got up to get a cuppa coffee. I walked to the little kitchen down the hall and found the coffee carafe was fuckin' empty. (Big surprise: It's really hard to dump the used grinds, drop in a new filter and open a pre-measured coffee pouch. So hard that I'm sure it's beyond the capability of most of the fuckin' jerks here that also manage to litter and not flush.) So, as I am capable of making a freshy, I did. Then I waited for the sumbitch to brew. As it was nearing half-way, I hijacked the coffee: I deftly removed the carafe from the steamy stream and placed my cup beneath, then I filled my cup with the concentrated coffee in the carafe. Another slick move and the carafe was once again on the hotplate, beneath the drip. I've come to call this a "ballsy" coffee. It's got a full carafe's concentration of coffee in one cup. I perform this trick enough that I dream about it.

So I walked back to my desk. I got a dozen or so steps down the hall and thought that my roommate might want a cup of coffee. He does enjoy a ballsy cup. I stopped, looked at my coffee cup and thought about it. Then I decided, "Fuck him." Right then, in the dream, I had a cerebral hemorrhage and died. I mean it. An artery blew up in my brain and I croaked. Instantly I was in hell and the devil said, "Hmm. Mebbe you should oughta gotten yr roommate a cup of that ballsy coffee." I thought, shit. Mebbe the old guy is right. That was a darn selfish thing of me to have done. Then, y'know, I romped around in hell and eventually woke up.

So in REAL LIFE, the next day, I hijacked me a cup of ballsy coffee and hijacked one for my roommate. Set it down for him, he said, "thanks. Is it ballsy?" I said sure. Then I looked right at the camera and winked.

Tonight: Pow!. TNSC Historians remind us that we visited this bar the day before it opened to the public! There's lotsa parking there, too. Bring yr pals. Bring yr IDs. See you there!


bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

Day's dawning, skin's crawling.

3.3.2k3
Thursday, 20 March, 2003

I like the look of that little screwball, Spongebob Squarepants. I seen his show once and it's hard to watch. I figure I gotta get on the dope to figure it out. It's weird.

How's yr war goin'? You sick of the words "shock and awe" yet?

Tonight's venue is requested by birthday girl Kyra. She says Dogpatch. Bring yr pals. Kyra will. She'll see you there!

bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

Get yr hot ass over here.

3.2.2k3
Thursday, 13 March, 2003

I had a rant going about why I didn't rant about the fucking war and I started ranting about the fucking war. That's fucked up. Had a chance to pull out so I did. I may post the non-rant fucking war rant later but it pisses me off thinking about it. The fucking war. Pisses me off thinking about the fucking war. So today's Venue Announcement rant won't be about the fucking war. It'll be about Country Music. (I'll call it cunt for short.) I've come to realise that cunt is just like "rock." It's too broad a category. Witness the last ten shitty songs played by a "rock" station here in SF:
Last Ten Songs Played On 96.5 KOIT
Most Recent on Top
1 (You'Re My) Soul And Inspira - Righteous Brothers
2 Will You Still Love Me - Chicago
3 (Everything I Do) I Do It Fo - Bryan Adams
4 Biggest Part Of Me - Ambrosia
5 This Kiss - Faith Hill
6 Somewhere Out There - Linda Ronstadt/James Ingram
7 Too Much Heaven - Bee Gees
8 Nobody Knows - Tony Rich Project
9 Layla (Unplugged) - Eric Clapton
10 The Greatest Love Of All - Whitney Houston
Are you fucking kidding me? Whitney Houston? ROCK? Sure the KOIT qualifies itself as "Lite" rock, but "rock" nontheless. Whitney Houston ain't lite rock. GnR's "Sweet Child of Mine" is lite rock. A lot of the shtuff that Radiohead has put out lately is lite rock. Whitney's entire artistic catalog has nothing to do with rock. It has everything to do with B A D P O P M U S I C. POP stands for POPular. Some rock is popular, but it ain't pop. Some pop, like Whitney's, ain't nothing but pop. But back to cunt. Garrrth Brooks and that jackass who sang "Achey Breaky Ass" or whatever fucked up cunt. That shit's there's the Whitney Houston pop songs. Not cunt. Hank Williams Sr. is the real mccoy. As is Johnny Cash, Big Sandy, The Knitters, Patsy Cline, Jon Wayne, Waylon, Willie and lots of others. It's too bad that these days claiming to be a country music fan automatically labels you as a big dumb jerk. Aaagh. Tonight we're going to a joint that has a great juke. It has lite rock and regular rock. Real (Jesus Lizard) Rock. This place is called: Sadie's Flying Elephant. We ain't been there for a while. The word KOIT, whether it's the radio station or the tower or that creepy pervert lady, makes me think of the word coitus. Thought I'd share that. Potrero and Mariposa. There you'll find tonight's meeting. Bring yr pals. I will. See you the

bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!