09.08.01 mobile slot machine torture van

everybody's got to have an angle. sex and shakespeare, erstwhile local favorites, are having at the recession arm in arm. the strip club on my commute home advertises AMATEUR NIGHT WITH ALICIA THE CANNIBAL. bat boy, mutant weekly world news hero a few years back, has been in a car accident. when his pointy head bandages come off, poor bastard, he's off to a summit with the evil dubya clone who's seized control of the white house (i'm not touching it).

i'm all for this culture gumbo stuff. i won't have to wrinkle my brow with amazon-wifey-mom-techmistress anywhich, i'll just be a human swiss army knife. i can already play "greensleeves" on the ocarina and do a disturbing young wayne newton impression: bring it on.

belle and sebastian are equally prepared for the times ahead: stuart rode a motorcycle onstage as isobel & co sang "leader of the pack" at the warfield tonight. jake and i expected this, as the sound board and the set list were directly in front of us, but no matter. the audience-participation version of the smiths' "the boy with the thorn in his side" was a surprise, as was sly and the family stone's "everyday people" toward the end of the show:


we're now going to do a song by one of the best san francisco bands of all time.




no, not greenday, god! you know, respect to greenday...those guys are pretty tough.


but there are more of us.

No comments: