2007

I've moved my diary to MySpace. Figured maybe I'd write more if I had a different setting. Kind of the same reason I moved to a different continent. I have 2 blogs! Yippee ding dong.

http://blog.myspace.com/rachelarieff
(Personal blog)

http://blog.myspace.com/antikaraoke
(Anti-Karaoke and entertainment-related blog)

Nov. 15, 2006

I'm no psychic, and I'm no expert on physics, metaphysics, or any other methods of trying to make sense of the universe. But from my personal experience, I can declare that one rule is true beyond a doubt:

1. If you share with your significant other an apartment where the bathroom is located smack dab next to the front door, and
2. If you are alone in the apartment, and for that reason, neglect to close the bathroom door while taking a shit in the privacy of your calm and empty abode,
3. Your signifcant other will come home. Right that instant.

Don't ask me why. Don't ask me how. All I know is, it's a goddamned fact, ladies and gentlemen.

Nov. 11, 2006 - Hard-On for Change!

Damn! Them's some midterm elections! Democrats control both houses, Rummy's finally fucked off . . . A wet dream come true!

We'’ve had seven years to reflect on the hell this country’s been through. You wanna know what I think? Good, I'm glad you do.

I am convinced that, at some level, the last seven years have been the result of Americans not being able to deal with Clinton getting blow jobs.

Lemme back up a bit. Yesterday, my buddy John Skipp sent me an ecstatic email.The subject heading was “Democracy Pops a Boner!”

Skippy, you couldn’t have put a more appropriate caption on this seven-year adventure. ‘Cause the more I’ve thought about the state of our nation, the more obvious it is that this mess we’ve gotten ourselves into is all about sex.

That’s right. It’s all about boners. Or rather, the lack thereof.

Let me explain. If Bush had not been “elected” President in 2000, there would have been no Iraq war.

And if we hadn’t invaded Iraq, well, we’d be some trillion dollars richer, some 3,000 U.S. soldiers and some 100,000 Iraqis would be alive and well. Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib wouldn’t exist. Al Qaeda would not be flocking to the jihadist training camp formerly known as Iraq. Anti-American sentiment would not be the norm throughout the world. And who knows? If we had committed the necessary troops and attention to Afghanistan, maybe Bin Laden would now be in jail.

New Orleans might not never have been underwater. We might have acknowledged the reality of global warming and massive environmental destruction that threatens us all, and begun to seek solutions. The Constitution and the Bill of Rights wouldn't have been reduced to the status of toilet paper.

But the Bush administration was in power, enabled by a cowardly Congress that wrote the blank checks. And it wiped its ass on this country's most sacred principles.

When we go back to thinking “Why was Bush elected the first time?” there are many factors. Cheating, or course. Also, big business and therefore big money was on Bush’s side.

But you can’t get around the fact that a lot of people really did vote for Bush, Why? Because they believed that Bush was the more moral person. And not just because Bush wore his evangelical Christianity on his sleeve. But for the simple fact that Gore worked with the blow-job President.

Bush was innocent. Cocaine, drinking, ruined sports teams and oil companies, draft dodging, what did it matter? In America, blow jobs trump all, because sex trumps every other character defect in American culture. We're a country founded by Puritans --whaddaya expect?

Some talking head – was it Chris Matthews? said that Americans voted for Bush out of reaction to the Clinton sex scandal. Bush was a guy who was religious, a Christian, “who went to bed at 9 every night with his wife. After the Clinton mess, that’s the kind of person this country wanted for President.”

Well, not me, buddy. First of all, I believe that if you are President, then you know what? You deserve a blow job. I mean, being President is tough work! Unless you're George Bush, of course, 'cause then you're mostly on vacation. So Bush doesn't count.

And furthermore, if you are doing as good a job as Clinton did, then you deserve a blow job every couple of hours. Which apparently was the case. And good for him! Don't even argue with me about this. Don't. If you wanna argue, just open up your mouth and stuff a dick in it because you're wrong.

For God's sakes, Clinton balanced the budget. He erased the U.S. deficit. The man presided over the biggest economic boom in decades. Some measly blow jobs were the least we could do for him.

Look how far we've fallen since then. At this point, if you could guarantee me that you won’t start an unnecessary war, that you will not bankrupt this country’s treasury, that you will not trample on the Constitution, then gosh darn it, I’ll personally perform the service with gladness in my heart.

And I won't stop at just me. I'll volunteer my parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters, and unborn children. Purely out of love for my country. And if you have a problem with that, then why doncha move to Iran or France or New York City, you unpatriotic, anti-American, terrorist-loving pervert!

I live in Spain. People here just do not understand what the stink was about. They are constantly asking me, “Why were the American people were so angry over the President getting blow jobs?” The easy answer is: “Because September 11th hadn’t happened yet.”

The real answer, though, is this: “Because they were jealous.”

That’s right. We were jealous. We said we were angry because he lied about them. We said it was because our President “debased the country’s highest office.” (Those two accusations make me crack up today. What has Bush done during his term of office, and on how much more grand a scale?).

Nope, we were simply jealous.

Most Americans work shitty jobs. We spend the majority of our waking hours in places we don’t want to be, with people we can’t stand. And goddammit, you can bet your sweet ass that we never get blow jobs at our desks. We don't even get insurance anymore! So how dare this sweet-talking, soft-spoken cracker making 200 grand a year get to enjoy them where he works?

Nope, dammit, it’s not allowed. Next time, we’re gonna elect a drunken, coke-snorting, mouth-breathing sociopath righteous Puritan who doesn’t get blow jobs under his desk and goes to bed at 9 with his wife. We might get attacked by angry Muslims on our own soil. We might squander our army, our money, and our international prestige on a corrupt war. We might sacrifice our own democracy in the process.

But dammit, at least no one’s getting head under his desk. God bless America!

Now that we’ve given our enemies a hard-on, decimated our army and drained our coffers, people have realized that maybe this guy and his gang of Rethuglicans weren’t the best thing for America. This time, we’ve gone with (gasp!) the Democrats.

Democracy has popped a boner. God Bless America!

Sept. 9, 2006 - Wave That Flag!

I am so sick of war veterans. I mean, they’re great while they’re actually soldiers and killing people and getting killed themselves, I support that. But then they come home and start bitchin’ and moaning about how war is evil, my missing limbs hurt, where’s my disability check, I can’t sleep without trying to kill my wife, blah blah blah blaaah. By the time the next war comes around, they’re with the Other Side – be it the Communists, Islamofascists, Quakers, or ex-Nixon cabinet members who admire Barry Goldwater.

Why do you think we’re losing the Iraq war the American public has turned against our successful campaign to bring democracy to Iraq? Because war veterans are f-ing it all up! Especially the Vietnam ones. President Bush was right not to join up with those guys in ’72. I mean, how do you think he got to be President in the first place? I’ll tell you: by not hanging out with losers. Especially poor ones who couldn’t get a deferment or make it to Canada.

War veterans are nothing but a bunch of bitter Benedict Arnolds with lots of medical bills. That’s why I propose that President Bush make up a law. --That’s one thing we know he’s good at: making up laws! Who needs Congress? The law is this:

All soldiers, as soon as they complete their final tour of duty, should be shot on the spot.

Nothing personal. We’ve appreciated their service. We are so grateful to the sacrifices they’ve made so the rest of us wouldn’t have to. We really are. Don't you see our flags waving? But now we’ve got to think about what’s best for America.

Getting rid of these gloom-and-doom veterans would solve the morale problem with the troops, and we could go into each war as if it were something brand-spankin’ new and sparkly and exciting.

Which is how war should be, goddammit.

Aug. 30, 2006 - Nazi References are Fun!

Wow, everyone's like so into the Nazis again! That's cool. I've always liked antiques and shit. Still, it's pretty surprising how many Americans have been accusing other Americans, who basically support human rights and cleaning up the environment, as being
like the Nazis (Al Gore, people who agree with An Inconvenient Truth, people who want the Plan B pill and stem cell research), or Nazi appeasers (people against the Bush dictatorship at home and abroad).

I do understand, though. Nazis are fun to play with. I'd like to try my hand at it now. Let's see, what topic? I know: Patriotism!

---

I think it's your duty as a citizen to put your country first, even if countless foreigners die because of it. If not, what does that say about your Values^TM and the kind of person you are?

It's like Nazi Germany. The German people were depressed. They needed something to focus on to pull themselves out of the dumps. So they picked the Jews.

Too bad for the Jews, but for a few years, the real Germans were riding high!

And you can bet that just when Germany was starting to come out of her funk and feel good about herself again, looking all sexy in those SS uniforms and Hitler Youth thongs and swastika cock rings as they monitored the Chock-Full-o'-Jews^TM Express Trains, you can bet that there were spineless, evil Germans who said, "What we're doing is wrong. Our nation is heading down the path of pure evil. This must stop!"

And those party poopers were rightly punished for being traitors. Their country needed their support, and instead of giving it, they made their fellow Germans feel all guilty and shit.

And Amurika is in the same situation today. Those on President Bush's side are ridin' high on the good times brought to you by a strong America!

Those who bitch about domestic spying and an illegal war in Iraq and New Orleans not being fixed up are just a bunch of dirty Jeeews. Or Jeeew-lovers. If you don't like the way we do things here, why don't you just get on a train and ride back to Auschwitz where you came from?

---

Okay, bad example 'cause I'm Jewish. Also because the Nazis are supposed to be the bad guys.

But seriously, these days, who's keeping track?

Aug. 24, 2006 - Protecting Our Way of Life!

We're fighting 'em over there so we don't have to fight 'em over here.

And you know what? The Iraqi people totally understand. They are a Freedom-Loving People. They know this war is being fought for their benefit -- oh, and also to protect Our Way of Life. It changes depending on the context in which poor President Bush is forced by our Evil Liberal Media to defend it.

We're fighting 'em over there so we don't have to fight 'em over here.

Yeah yeah yeah, I know, "they" weren't "over there" in the first place. But since we invaded Iraq, now "they" are. So we gotta stay the course. They are a threat to Our Way of Life, and the freedom of our children and grandchildren. Our American children and grandchildren. Don't confuse them with the kid in the picture below! He lives in Baghdad, so he doesn't count.

Besides, "they" all pretty much look the same. If you watch too many "news" programs, you start to get all confused about who's who. Al Qaida? Sunni? Shiite? Insurgent? Civilian? It gives you a headache. By then you're so tired of it, you just say, "To hell with them all! Let those animals kill each other."

And if the freedom-loving Iraqi people decided to start a war in the U.S. so they wouldn't have to fight it in Iraq, that'd be cool with us. We'd understand that our shed blood was necessary to protect The Iraqi Way of Life. We'd understand about "collateral damage." No prob!

Just imagine one of your pre-pre-teens on this stretcher after a daily trip to the market, and I'm sure you'd be proud to have your family play a part in the Birth Pangs of Democracy^TM/Protecting the _____ (fill in the blank with the name of the appropriate invading country) Way of Life!

Anyone who says this war is immoral and narcissistic is an un-American traitor. Anyone who says it's paved the way for a future of many more terrorist attacks, by destroying the lives of an entire nation of people who never hated us before, is a lily-livered, French-speaking coward who loves defeat and hates Amurika.

Okay, I'll cut the crap: I'm getting bored with this war. We all know most Americans are sick of this war. This war is sooo 2003. These images are getting around the Internets and people are starting to think this war is a bummer. We need to get out ASAP...

...so we can start a war somewhere else. Iran looks pretty good. This war just doesn't make America look good anymore. 'Cause when America goes into war, it needs to look bitchin'.

These pictures of Iraqi victims of "collateral damage" and terrorist bombings are from the Associated Press archive. Google "Iraq" and you will find them.

---

Aug. 7, 2006 -- Hidden Treasure

I finally found this drawing I did when I was in college. I drew it of my music teacher, John Ronsheim, while he was teaching class. He changed my life. I wrote about him earlier. He taught purely by example. I have never met anyone as passionate, fearless, and funny as John Ronsheim. Of course, most of the faculty thought he was nuts. He was a big pain in the ass to most other "adults" because his very existence tended to shine a merciless light on their mediocrity. He hated mediocrity: in music, in food, in politics, in being. He fought a daily battle trying to convince us young pseudo-hippies that valuing quality was not equivalent to selling out or being bourgeois.

I was much younger when I knew him. You can see how young I was because I didn't bother to put the year on the drawing. It's funny how at the time putting the year on a drawing seemed nothing but pretentious to me. I still didn't have a clue about time and how quickly it passes, that years could actually mean something. I couldn't imagine being 30, 40, or 50. John Ronsheim died when he was 70. That's hardly any time at all.

Some classmates of mine started a website about him, ronsheim.org. You can even hear recordings of his classes. Check it out. He was an astonishing person.

July 30, 2006 -- Ladies, Don't Slip Up!

The European trash press is obsessed with Posh Spice and her obvious, acute anorexia. The pictures are shocking. (I picked one of the prettier ones.) One morning I regretfully spent an hour looking through reader comments on her tragic condition. That's an hour I will never get back. I felt like I'd spiritually binged on Big Macs and Ho-Ho's . . . washed down with several laxatives, of course.

Reading those comments made me wonder who society hates more: fat women or anorexic women.

I guess it's a draw.

July 28, 2006 -- Quite a Leap...

Ignorant people look at Jackson Pollock paintings and think, "Duhh, my 5-year-old could do that." Then somehow they looked at the White House and thought, "Durrh, George Bush could do that." Twice.

Now they're surprised to find out that they've elected a feces-flinging chimpanzee to lead the country and the rest of the world.

It just boggles my mind.

July 21, 2006 -- The Right Kinda Crowd!

Some will say that examing your own web stats is just one step above Google-ing yourself on the Series of Tubes^TM. It's not for me to argue with that.

What I will say is that, in the course of examining my web stats this morning, I discovered that someone from East Stroudsburg University in East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, had ended up at my website after searching "slap the dick out of your mouth." I like to think it was a bright young political science major boning up on her debating skills against Sen. Santorum. But then I came to my senses. That douchebag won't be a senator when that time comes!

He'll be President.

July 18, 2006 -- A Clarification

July 17, 2006 -- Modern-Day Mermaids

Today was a hot, sunny Saturday, which meant tons of people at the beach. And boy, are people pigs. A garbage-collecting boat chugged along just a hundred meters or so from shore. I watched as a portly man in a reflective vest removed piece after piece of plastic waste from the water with a long-handled net, just yards away from the swimmers.

Suddenly I had a vision of numerous women on the beach -- women with those huge, hard and ripply, drive-an SUV-through-them breast implants (yes, they're all over Spain too) -- getting scooped up along with the rest of the man-made debris like dolphins in tuna nets.

An honest mistake, really -- don't you think?

Anyway, no harm done. Just pluck 'em out of the net and throw 'em back.

Oh, don't worry about hurting them -- they'll float!

July 14 -- Timing Is Everything

One of my cats (no, not Mr. Tacos -- the other, crappy one) has vomited on everything in the house at least once . . . including the bed. In fact, every day after waking up I have to strip all the blankets and sheets from the bed just in case.

So boy, was I excited when I finally found a waterproof mattress cover! And wouldn't you know it? That very night, the cat puked right on the bed! And when I pulled away the mattress cover, sure enough, the mattress was untouched! Miraculous!

So then, happy as a '50s housewife, I threw the mattress cover in the washing machine, content that it had already served its function. But I had to let it air-dry for the night, leaving the mattress naked and vulnerable. But it would be just for one night. No problem, right?

Well, that night . . .

No, the cat was fine . . .

I peed in bed.

July 8, 2006 -- In the Hole

I think I finally cracked it! Why supposedly "religious" people are always trying to get everyone else to convert to their religion! If they have so much damn faith, why do they need everyone else to confirm it?

The answer is, they don't! They're just being incredibly selfish!

You see, if they turn out to be wrong about the whole thing, at least they won't be the only sucker stuck down there in the void.

Just imagine it: you pray and go to church all your life, you deny yourself all these fun things, you feel guilty about hundreds of other things, just like you're supposed to . . .

And then you die and you end up locked in a huge cosmic closest all alone 'til the end of time. You'd pretty much feel like an asshole, right?

But if you were in this hellhole with lots of other people, you'd feel a little less like an asshole. So I get it now.

Misery likes company; disillusionment loves a convocation!

Oh crap. I realize I was actually describing the state of Oklahoma, not the afterlife.

Forget it.

July 6, 2006 -- A Spanish Riddle!

Quick -- do you speak Spanish, or know Spanish-speaking people? Do their funny little accents crack you up sometimes? Then this riddle is for you.

Can you guess which legendary American band this term describes? Hint: the name is the same. Only the pronunciation has been iberi-cized.

"GRAH-tay-fool-DED."

July 4, 2006 -- One Big Almodóvar Movie!

Last Thursday I was in the beautiful cabaret theater doing my one-person show. It was going great. The audience was digging it, I was digging it . . . when suddenly, this steady stream of LOUD female chatter began to pollute the atmosphere.

As I couldn't see through the darkness -- the offendresses were in the back -- I tried to shush them with a didactic scolding ("This ain't the TeeVee, gurrls, I can hear you up here.") No effect. The chatter continued. The audience was going, "ShhhhUUSH!!" "Be quiet!" A couple of times, I was forced to stop in mid-sentence and scream, "Shut UP, goddammit!" Nothing.

Finally, someone in the theater escorted the lovely ladies out into the hall where they could continue their conversation unmolested. One of them said, "Pero que paaaaa-sa? Que paaaaa-sa aquí?", genuinely stung at the treatment. Obviously my little lecture about the nature of the theater not being equal to the TeeVee hadn't gotten through. Whoever these ladies were, they obviously didn't get out to the theater much. Or the opera. Or anything requiring the recognition that the thing on the stage was a real person. Remarkable.

Later, after the show, I found out who these ladies were. Some friends of mine had brought along a bunch of whores to the show! Hookers, straight out of an Almodóvar movie! I'm not ashamed to say I felt proud. I'd reached the next level. Where people start bringing whores to your show, you know your show is cool!

My only, BIG regret is that, dang it, I completely missed the opportunity to use one of the most famous heckler putdown lines. I'd never uttered it before because it's just too cheap and over-the-top for real life. However, on this night, it wouldn't have been cheap or excessive at all. It would've been absolutely factual.

"Look ladies, I don't go to where you work and slap the dick out of your mouth. Please, gimme some respect while I'm working here!"

Maybe they didn't get the concept of the theater, but they had to get the concept of work, right?

Who knows? Maybe those chicks would've gone, "Hmmm... I wouldn't like it if she did that. Slapped a client's dick outta my mouth. Dat's a good chunk o' money, down da drain. --No, I guess I wouldn't like it. Hey gurrls, let's take dis conversation outside. Dis bitch is tryin' to work! You know, like we do! 'Cept she don't have no dick in her mouth. But don't dis her just 'cause she don't got no dick in her mouth, she still workin', yo."

June 29, 2006 -- I'm Making It Happen! ^TM

I saw a short guy with the girth of a Humvee wearing a T-shirt with the McDonald's logo and the slogan, "I'm making it happen."

I thought, Yes, we can all see that. But is your self-destruction really something to brag about?

Or is it a cry for help? A threat?

"I'm making it happen, you see? And it's all your fault. --No, don't touch me, get away from me! Just fuck off! You should've thought about that years ago. I'm making it happen, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it, Mom!"

June 28, 2006 -- The Revolution Starts Now

I realize that the flamboyant color scheme of my website makes it much riskier to read when you're at one of those crap office jobs that forbid such activities. I've thought about changing it to a more drab, Microsoft-looking format to accommodate the oppressed masses.

But then the fascist pigs would win, wouldn't they? Maybe you should just tell your bosses to go fuck themselves. Maybe you should take a crap on your cubicle floor, steal some pens, and go ride the rails until the Nuclear Armageddon (A.K.A. the "Great Transition" or "The Return of Quetzalcoatl") in 2013.

Don't waste any more time! You'll thank me for it later!

June 28, 2006 -- Lovely Distractions

A friend recently gave me a nice gift: a tiny jar of Shiseido concentrated anti-wrinkle eye cream. The cream costs 60 bucks for half an ounce. Did you read that? Go ahead and read it again; I've got time.

The cream comes with a thick instruction booklet in four languages and a tiny curved plastic spatula. You're supposed to apply a rice-sized (they're Japanese! and that's really what they say!) dab of this cream twice daily with this spatula, never dipping your fingers directly into the jar, rubbing it in thoroughly with circular motions that are firm, but of course not too brusque either.

I suppose all of these painstaking indictions have a purpose. That purpose is to distract you from the fact that you're getting fucking old.

June 27, 2006 -- A Win-Win!

I recently posed as a glamourous pin-up model for the cover of a Spanish magazine. The only catch: it's, um, a porno magazine.

But it's a comic, so I think I can still run for President. What's more, since it's a porno... and since it's Europe... I'll probably win!

June 24, 2006

My crazy brother from Milwaukee called. He said, "Hola." There was a pause. "Brrrrr-UM-pah-pah-pah-pah!" Then he sighed and said, "No, that's not it..."

He wants so badly to speak Spanish. He says he wants to know what the Mexican people on the bus are saying about him.

They're probably saying, "Onomatopoeia is not Spanish."

May 2, 2006 - More Incredible Inbox Poetry

From: Aimee Person

Subject: thats one nice dildo :) hexafluoride

hamburg you yen me, gymnasium codomain gosling . dissension you baylor me, conclusive dilatory . baffin you eros me, ablaze . fairfield you wan me, reprehensible autocorrelate bette .
digging you consolidate me, boor constituent peed . teratogenic you heir me, teletypewrite bratwurst . boatswain you stromberg me, diaper curate . inveigle you calumny me, piss candy prove .

---

The critique: Perhaps a bit accusatory, polemical, some may even say "whining"... but sometimes you've got to come on strong -- even risk offending -- if you want to get your point across. That's what I like about this poem: it's passionate and unabashed; old-school in its rhythms... no room for irony here. I love how it seduces you with the typical inane compliment "thats one nice dildo :) " -- you can almost hear your next-door neighbor singing it out to you over the white picket fence as she tends her garden. Love the dry, violent ending that cuts itself short with three bullets of words: "piss candy prove." Shades of Patti Smith, I daresay.

This is to enjoy with a nice, strong but smooth Chilean Carmenere or Australian Syrah. Delicious and satisfying!

April 28, 2006 - Hard to Let Go

You ever get a sentimental attachment to spam? For me, spam is like Republicans. As a group, I detest them. But certain individuals can be quite endearing.

There's one mail in particular that I just can't bring myself to delete. It's from "Mi Marjory" and the subject line reads, "SAD TO HAVE SHORT D1CCK, BIGGER 2-INCH NOW AT LOW PRICE commit".

Inside unfolds some astonishing poetry.

---

Is your Diick short?

being letter king stairs off yours.
burst fail side food summary?

Is your Diick short?

book fancy may intelligent wrong thee? wonder sooner trees understand sugar,
fascinate stairs taste within taken,
disappoint word fill welcome find,
wine corner know appearance sandwich. a fool sale approach lot miles.
gym my slow sooner? reached spoke back quickly important.

is your Diick short?

---

I don't know if my Diick is short. All I know is, I could almost cry at the beauty of this mail.

Okay, now I can delete it. Thanks for witnessing.

April 26, 2006 - Hollywood Moment

My friend had a bunch of us over for dinner last night. Another friend arrived --someone I adore. We hugged each other tight. Suddenly she began to feel around on my back and blurted out, "What bones!"

I've inexplicably lost a quite a bit of body mass in the last year and I'm a little self-conscious about it. Mostly because people keep commenting on it at parties and such. I'm not complaining, though. It's much better than, "Oh my God, you're pregnant! Congraulations! Wait, you're not? Omigod, I'm so sorry!"

So I said, "Oh no! Am I really that disgustingly skeletal?"

My friend looked me squarely and bravely in the eyes.

Then she said, "Yeah... but you look hot."

April 21, 2006 - About Thongs

I like the concept of thongs -- well, no. Not the concept, 'cause if you think about it, it's pretty gross. I like the look of thongs. I can wear them for special occasions. Like weddings. Or when watching Jack Cafferty in The Situation Room. Mmmmm, yeeeeeeeeeeah.

But I just can't get myself to wear them daily. I go the gym, and every chick who pulls down her pants in the locker room is wearing a thong. On the street, a chick bends over, and her thong band is riding high. Everyone's wearing them. Even guys. All the time.

I can't. I'm sorry. I just cannot justify the discomfort of sticking something between my butt cheeks and having it sit there, irritating my ass crack all day long. Unless it's a commemorative statuette of George W. Bush. It would hurt, but I'd be doing it for my country.

April 19, 2006 - What are you gonna do...

Call the cops? Get a restraining order from my posts? Ooh, I'm so scared.

April 19, 2006 - Okay, I'll be quiet atfter this

That is reaealy quitea pity, becasue it really iw is a brilliant discobyvery.

April 19, 2006 - A Ppity

Wow!

I just realized seomthing increidbly profound and earth-shattering!

But ast I am quite drunk right now, I cannnot explain it t.

Don't you hate when that happens?

April 19, 2006 -

The Diane Arbus exhibit came through town, just like the circus does. I think it inspired me.

Maybe I fucked up, though. Shouldn't the evil-looking one should be on the left?

April 18, 2006 - Mondays

Was flipping through the channels tonight after Anti-Karaoke and saw this gay porn movie was on, about "boys" in a "locker room." This guy in half a wrestling uniform was jerking off on a bench, waiting to be "caught" by his team-mates.

I don't know which was more ridiculous: the scene itself, or the fact that I was disappointed 'cause I'd already seen it.

April 16, 2006 - Sundays

I just spent this Easter Sunday in Spain filing my taxes to the U.S. government. That felt irrelevent.

Last week, on Palm Sunday, l saw a large group of people clustered in front of the Catholic Church around the corner. (I'd like to say that Barcelona has as many Catholic churches as Milwaukee has taverns, or Anytown, U.S.A. has 7-11's, but it's not true. There really aren't that many.)

Anyway, I saw this large group of nicely dressed people. Many of them were holding graceful, 7-foot-tall palm fronds, as is the tradition here. As my atavistic Jewish paranoia makes me wary of groups of Christians with large sticks, I crossed street to avoid them.

Later, on the treadmill at the gym, I looked down through the 3rd-floor window onto the street. I got a nice aerial view of a family: parents, grandparents, and 5-year-old dressed up nicely in a suit. The grampa and the kid were holding the palms. Safely out of harm's reach, I could see I was wrong. It's actually a lovely sight.

Especially when you're all sweaty and huffing and puffing and smelling like ass while the Black Eyed Peas are blaring their ass sounds over everything. Then you see who should really be horrified at whom.

April 13, 2006 - Spanish Road Trip

Yesterday I went on my first road trip in Spain. It felt good to drive a long distance -- not that long, but 3 1/2 hours, which felt long after not driving for a couple years. The land looks a lot like Southern California, with less windmills and Denny's and Chili's billboards.

Went to see the Black Halos perform in a town called Castellon. They played in Barcelona Monday but I missed it because I was doing the Anti-Karaoke show at the same time. In Castellon it was a tiny little club that was hellishly hot and no place to go once you walked in except to be plastered against the sweaty door.

It was a great show. They band had come by the Anti-Karaoke after their show the night before and sang "Kids in America". It was hilarious. The singer, Billy Hopeless, said he'd gotten up in the morning and gone to Parc Guell before getting in the van with the rest of the band and making the trip down from Barcelona to Castellón. Turns out he does it every morning, gets up and sees the cities he's in. I couldn't believe a guy who's traveling every single day for 2 months, screaming and strangling himself with the mic chord in a different town every night, can actually get up in the mornings and sightsee. The guy is dedicated to living and savoring every waking moment. Exceptional.

It was scary driving home because the highways are super-dark, no lights at all, with the black Mediterranean on one side and the black hills on the other. But the bathrooms in the gas stations are incredibly clean, and the toll booth operators are super polite and friendly, with handsome men and beautiful women greeting you from behind their glass shields. I don't get this country, and that's why I love it. People here actually like living well, being happy, getting along with others. In fact, they expect it. It really rubs off on you, like bacteria on a rest stop door knob.