Amazing but true fact: my friend's brother has Mr. Rogers' pants.
More on this story as it develops.
This morning as I walked to work, I noted the following items, in a pile, next to the dumpster behind our building.
1. A black satin teddy
2. A pair of women's black clunky shoes
3. A black pleather purse with pastel stripes on it, empty
4. A pocket calendar with several dates checked in blue pen
5. A red leather dog collar
Now you KNOW there's a good story behind this one. I may have to write it my damn self.
What I've been listening to a lot lately: Ruins; Sleepytime Gorilla Museum; Rahzel.
What I've been reading a lot of lately: books on organized crime; books on the history of Nazi Germany; Kathy Acker novels.
What I've been watching a lot of lately: Premier League soccer; Futurama reruns; the calendar, as baseball season gets ever closer.
What I've been writing a lot of lately: Rap lyrics (prolifically and pointlessly); my novel (slowly and steadily); my comic (glacially and hopelessly).
What I've been remembering a lot of lately: the cultural atmosphere during the last Gulf War; what it's like to kiss a girl on the back of the neck; First Comics of the mid- to late-1980s.
So, big Suge Knight is back out of jail (which means there's a lot of people shitting themselves right now), and part of the terms of his release are:
"The (parole) board also ordered Knight to perform 200 hours of community service aimed at persuading children to avoid gangs."
Now, okay. At first, I laughed at this. Because, okay, here we're gonna have this guy who made tens of millions of dollars, became a hugely influential, respected, and feared music industry executive, and made the careers of dozens of entertainers. And how did he do it? By dealing coke, hanging out with gangstas, and eventually become a gang-lord-cum-label boss. And they're gonna send this guy out to kindergartens and tell the kiddies to avoid gangs? Why, so they can not end up like him -- rich as hell, able to get away with murder, successful, and with a thousand pipe-wielding bad-asses at your beck and call? Sure. Why don't we send George W. Bush out there and persuade children not to be born to a rich oil family, too?
But then I thought more about it, and you know what? If Suge tells your six-year-old ass to do something, you better do it, no matter how dumb it sounds. I mean, shit, I'm not gonna tell him no, na'am-seen?