Seattle YOU.
2.4.2k5

If someone says the words, "I've been thinking about suicide lately," most people will assume that the person is thinking about committing suicide and not merely about the act itself. I say this because I started this very Venue Announcement with those words and I know that some of you ... well, a lot of you don't read much of the Venue Announcement except for maybe the first sentence and the venue itself and THIS PAINS ME but that ain't my point right now. My point is that I didn't want you all to read the words, "I've been thinking about suicide lately," and think that I'm thinking about committing suicide and not simply thinking of the act itself. I have been thinking of suicide since this past Monday's news item that Hunter S. Thompson blasted his brains out.

I've been a fan of HST since I started reading his work while still a lad in high school. Both my folks were English majors in college and they held onto a lot of their books and so we had literally (heh) a wall of books in one of the rooms in the house. In addition to being an invaluable resource when required to read the classics, as our collection usually had the book in it, once I became both interested in reading for fun and interested in reading things I wasn't supposed to, the collection made good on this, too. For example, we had a great book on Greek mythology. Fun stuff. Also found in the stacks a book called, "Stories of Scarlet Women." Sweet! It was published by Esquire Magazine and had stories about whores by famous authors, notably among them Ernest Hemmingway, himself a suicide victim.

After finishing the Book of Sluts, I peeked around and found a little green hardcover called "Hells Angels." I hadn't ever heard of Hunter S. Thompson, but I became an instant fan and sought out and devoured as much of his work as I could find. So it was with sadness that I greeted the news of his death.

Then I heard that he had some kind of disease and figured, what the hell. I can't fault a guy whose been given a death sentence from his doctor for choosing the quick way out.

So thinking about suicide, I recalled the time many years ago that my sister and I witnessed a suicide. It was pretty dramatic, as it was that special kind of suicide known as Suicide-By-Cop. Here's what went down: We spent the day at my dad's place in rural Lake County Illinois, barbecuing meats and drinking beers. After the fun and games, we bid farewell to my pop and drove toward the highway home but only got to the end of the drive when we saw a fox. A real fox! I like foxes so I got kinda excited and yelled something like, "Holy fucking shit, there's a goddamn sonofabitch FOX!!!" Sister was driving and hit the brakes. Foxy sat there by the side of the road and let us admire her. Sister and I were all smiles until we realized something weren't right with the fox. Foxy didn't seem to see us and, well, didn't move much at all. Kinda had a glazed look about her. Blasting the horn of the car didn't scare her off. She only slightly turned her little nose toward us. Yep. Something was wrong. We turned the car around and went back to our dad's to use the phone to call ... what were we thinking? The pound? We called the pound and they sent the cops. We met the cop, a giant, corn-fed dud of a trooper, near where we saw the fox and pointed her out, as she was still there. The cop chock-chocked his riot gun and my sister screamed, "FUCK, you're going to shoot her?" Cop said you bet yr ass I'm gonna shoot and with a gleam in his eye, leaned out the window and with a mighty blast, turned the fox into pudding. I had to console the sister as we sped out of there. "Ol' lady foxy was sick, ya see? And like them weirdoes that wave their pistols at cops so they'll get shot cuz they're too scared to pull down on themselves, ol' foxy knew she was sick and needed to die. She prolly thought suicide by cop was easier than runnin' under some truck."

Ol' foxy was prolly right. Still, the look on that little face still haunts me ...

Tonight - Lone Palm.

Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!

What's not to like? Alan will be attending tonight after two consecutive weeks away on biz.

bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

Zoom
2.3.2k5

Direct from the part of my pea-sized brain that holds what seem like million-year-old memories comes this gem: Oh how I loved getting a new pair of shoes and wearing them out of the store. While a new pair of shoes usually meant a new school year and we all know that new school years totally sucked, this fact did not diminish my pleasure with wearing my new pair of shoes right out the doors of Buster Browns. The second wearing of the shoes was forgettable and mundane but not the first and here's why: Because the gentleman who worked at the shoe store tied the laces oh so perfectly tight with much eclat; a performance of great elan, sophistication and grace, and a professional know-how that is largely dead today except for such vocations as harpsichord repair. I could not duplicate the perfection of the zapateria clerk's skill, no matter how I tried. And try I did.

Only later in life did I learn the shoe store employees were losers and perverts.

Tonight - The Edinburgh Castle.

Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!

Don't forget that while at the 'castle to place an order w/ yr server for Old Chelsea's Fission Chips fr supper!

bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

No AND!
2.2.2k5

If you don't eat fast food very much and then one day you do because you remember from your youth that KFC ExtraCrispy is fucking yummy and you find that it ain't as yummy as you remember it don't blame me because I recently did just that. My home is about 40 and nine steps away from the Colonel's and if even if the chicken turns out to be bad the smells from that joint sure are good (Sorry Bobo). I resisted the smells ... the delicious KFC aromas for about as long as I could take it and coughed up a handfull of bills for a boxfull of bird. Took it home and yuk. The cat went crazy, of course, and even though I told him the chicken was kinda gross he still wanted some. I've recently made several attempts at frying chicken and while I'm not completely satisfied w/ the results, the chicken I made was better than the KFC.

Tonight - Specs'.

Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!

I can kick the shit outta biscuits.

bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

The Hour of Chaos
2.1.2k5

Got an apartment and in a couple weeks it'll have been a year since moving in. It's a townhouse in the corner of a nice little courtyard that's got three pastel-colored bungalows on either side toward the street. Shoulda known the day we moved in that the lady at one end of the courtyard was whacked because she asked our movers to turn off their truck because the diesel engine was bothering her. The movers said that they couldn't turn it off due to it powering the hydraulic lift - the lift they needed to unload our furniture from the back of the truck. Didn't satisfy her, though, and she asked if they really needed the lift. You've ever met a mover you know they've likely done time somewhere and they don't cotton to foolish requests. You've ever met a guy who's done time somewhere you know they're likely not to stomp flat some dumbass lady who's askin' stupid questions and get sent back to the hoosegow. Anyway that there was how we met our neighbor.

Since then she has tried to get the local liquor store closed because the parking lot of said liquor store was right out her kitchen window and she was done fed up w/ the store's lesser-advantaged patrons hanging out in said parking lot, pissing on her chainlink fence and being general nuisances. She got a petition going with the neighborhood and got the city involved in her proposed cleanup-or-leave campaign. I said I agreed that no one should be peein' on her chainlink, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna vote for my next-door liquor store to be shut down. Turned out she and the owner came to an uneasy truce after the owner installed some lights and 'no loitering' signs.

Well the dingdong is up to it again: Got a letter from the town government the other day, opened it, read it; it said they were suckers. They said they got some complaints that the courtyard's various tenants were leaving their trash bins in an 'unacceptable location.' I thought, hmm! I only seen them bins on the ... uh ... CURB. Where the fuck we supposed to be putting them and come on! Don't you town government jerks got anything better to do than worry about the goddamn trashbins? Some people don't realize they be part of the problem.

Tonight - Irish Bank.

Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!

Brave fecal alley and join us for the freshes Guinness in town and chow-down on some blue cheese fries. yes ok!

bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!