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Tuesday, October 05, 2004
BLASPHEMIN'
We all know that the Christian Right has done an absurdly bang-up job of getting the word out about how all them Northern Liberal Intellectual types are looking to kill everyone's babies, outlaw Jesus and fuck you in the ass. Yeah, dude, whatever. Only on weekends. The rest of the time, we neo-zionist cabals are merely plotting to corner the world banks and ratchet up the gold standard until all anyone can afford is tofu salads and arugula friggin' soy shakes. After that, it's a short step to government-mandated cross-dressing, race mixing, bestiality and armageddon. Sorry to come clean like that. I could never keep a secret.  So it's curious that that same incredibly vocal and effective lobby has said absolutely nothing about the hurricanes that have ravaged Florida this year. If those storms had hit San Francisco, Pat Robertson would be jerking off under his desk with glee rattling his blessed denture-polished piehole off on every mainstream outlet he could buy or blow his way onto to talk about how the Lord's mighty wrath against the sodomites had been brought to effect, and it was Good.But what about the proportionately God-fearing and perfectly nice people of Florida? (Laugh it up at your peril; we're all God's children, and you'd be a fool and a fascist to think otherwise.) What hath that same God wrought against them? And where's the high and proper moral outrage among the Lord's self-appointed bouffanted spokespeople about this one? Did the Floridians commit some sin that warranted their summary wiping-out by the four metaphorical horsemen? Frankly, I'd take this as a warning, Florida. Your task is to do better by the Lord this year, or else -- Well, I don't know what else that poor state would have to endure that they haven't already. Locusts? No, they got tons of those. Plagues? Ditto. Sheeut, I'm at a loss. Look. I feel for you guys down there. Stay strong, Florida. And have you considered eating babies and sodomizing each other? Because that sure seems to be keeping the hurricanes away from North Gomorrah, California, just fine. Dubai Real Estate investment
Monday, October 04, 2004
MOTOR PSYCHO
Normally I love summer best of all. The toxic shit just floating in midair waiting to stick to your face, the laminated feeling you get after three and a half minutes of not showering, hundred and thirty in the shade arms-away-from-your-body hot, that sweet bouquet of piss, vomit and car exhaust that fills the air like a prom night debutante's slovenly didn't-sleep-at-home-last-night great-aunt just got in the elevator with you, man, Johnny Mathis got it backwards. The middle of summer is the most wonderful time of the year. That said, the summer of aught four has had about as much creativity as your average episode of Hope & Faith. I don't know if it was the big push to get some songs done that wore me down, or that the pit of loneliness that runs so deep it connects me directly with the twenty-seventh circle of hell is giving me a case of heartburn no Tums could fix, or what, but I've never been so glad to get on with things in October like I am right this moment. So to that end, here's Motor Psycho, a song about -- well, it's basically Born To Run as sung by Travis Bickle. It's just a little something to warm your cockles on these cool autumn nights. Rock over London, rock down Chicago. Tums. For the tummy.
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