Better Late Than Never...

The last several weeks have been super busy. Between touring, working and somehow managing to buy a new car, I have managed to run myself ragged. Happily Christmas is coming soon, and I’ll be able to slam on the breaks for a week or so.

For those keeping up, Cranbrook was okay. The shows were pretty much what I expected them to be. Friday sucked, and Saturday was great. Batting .500 is par for the course there.

The new car is great. Erin and I plunked down the cash for a new VW Golf. It rocks. It’s a like having a little silver rocket. I took it on the Deerfoot the other day, and I must say it handles like a dream. Those crazy Germans sure know how to build a car.

This past weekend was a little taxing. I went to Grande Prairie. It can best be described this way: Two days, three shows and 1400 clicks, with little more than a migraine and a few dollars to show for it.

Friday went swimmingly, and the first show on Saturday, which was a corporate no less, went quite well. The later show started out with promise, but descended into hell in just under 20 minutes. Somehow I lost control, and wound up having to fight off three hecklers. I would have been better off if I had just punched myself in the nuts over and over again for the last ten minutes or so. It really would have been easier, and ultimately less painful.

To those drunken mullet headed fuck wits, and you bloody well know who you are. I have only this to say. I HOPE YOU FREEZE TO DEATH IN THAT CRAP HOLE YOU SLITHERED OUT OF. JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN’T READ, OR LISTEN, OR PROCESS THOUGHTS IN A COHESIVE FASHION, DOESN’T MEAN THAT YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO DISPLAY YOUR IGNORACE. I DON’T WANT OR NEED YOUR DRUNKEN BITTERNESS. I HAVE PLENTY OF MY OWN.

Other stuff…

Pammy Anderson’s pulled the plug on her 16-week marriage. Jeez, way to stick it out Pam. (After like 3 wedding ceremonies too…) now that’s what I call tenacity. With that kind of wherewithal it’s of little wonder that my kinfolk are still savagely clubbing seals. She’s truly become a fantastic little homegrown train wreck. Come home, our hearts have swelled with pride. You’re like our very own, less talented Britney Spears. But it could be worse I suppose. You could be our very own, less talented Pink.

Still more stuff…

I’ve been enjoying the fallout from the walloping Bush took in the midterm elections. He still looks pretty shell-shocked. (PTSD for the GOP…) The rats are jumping off this sinking ship faster than Ben Johnson in the middle of a steroid fuelled rage. Rush Limbaugh practically kicked baby Bush in the shins. He couldn’t have distanced himself any faster if he had been the fastest chicken in the slaughterhouse.
Seeing Rick Santorum fuck himself out of his seat was splendid too. His bigoted, anti gay, “women should be barefoot and pregnant” ass finally got the good old-fashioned hate fucking it so richly deserved. Pennsylvania should beam with pride that it has finally stepped into the late 1970’s.

Anyhoo, More to come as I think of it.