Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator (ludickid) wrote,
Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator
ludickid

Cold drinkin' apple juice in Evil's BM

It's midnight and a couple o'clocks, and of course I can't sleep. Here's some things for you to skip over.

- I gu-hot duh-ruuuunk at SxSW last weekend. I finished up with all the stuff I was officially supposed to cover and found myself wandering around downtown Austin with nowhere in particular to go, and if there is one thing that downtown Austin can offer a wayward stranger, it's the opportunity to drink far more than is good for him. Which is exactly what I did. Luckily no one cares when I do stuff like that.

- Speaking of being drunk, I got a new tattoo. There are currently no batteries in my digital camera, so I can't show it to you just yet, but I think it's a pretty sly little piece of work, and photos will come your way probably right around the time it is crunging up into an ugly mass of blood-scabs.

- Two very good pieces of writing news came my way this week. Details are still on the hush crush, but prepare your you-knew-me-when stories.

- There was a bomb scare in downtown SATX today; somewhere amongst the teeming mob of extremely un-Hibernian St. Patrick's Day revelers around the Alamo, a dreaded "SUSPICIOUS PACKAGE" was left. Police and Homeland Security personnel arrived crackerjack on the scene, and after an 'evacuation' -- which, since my office is right across the alley, I could see from my window and appeared to consist of telling everyone nearby to step back about ten paces -- the bomb squad detonated the SUSPICIOUS PACKAGE under controlled conditions. Its contents: a bunch of phone books. Another nefarious al-Q'aeda plot thwarted.

- People be axin me all the time, hey fatbody, how come you aint said nothin about the end of your favorite show so why dont you just marry it why dont you, The Wire? Well the answer is simple: my feelings on the end are very complex and not easily explained in a post that is not nine pages long and boring. In brief, I thought Season 5 was by far the weakest; the two major plot engines were disappointing for various reasons (the newspaper thread was uncharacteristically Manichean, with very non-Simonic binaries of character and almost none of the moral shading that typifies the rest of the players; and the serial killer plot, while it yielded some terrific moments, was never believable in specific or in general), and the whole thing seemed a bit rushed. But it wasn't a massive disappointment or anything (no season 2 of Twin Peaks here), and its best moments can stand with the rest of the show while its worst were still contained in a framework more rewarding than 99% of the shows on television. I'm gonna miss the fucking thing, I'll tell you that.

- You know what happens in just a couple weeks? Baseball. Yeah.

- Of course, it's totally short-sighted and wrong to entirely blame President Bush for the phenomenal nosedive the economy is taking. That said, I entirely blame President Bush for the phenomenal nosedive the economy is taking. The only upside of this possibly unprecedented multi-tiered recession is that even the 26% rump of zeroes who still support the guy are going to start bitching about him now. What a fucking dick.

- Here are ten characters from novels to whom I relate at an almost unseemly degree: Piggy in Lord of the Flies; Benny Profane in V.; Private Joker in The Short-Timers; Bug in You Bright and Risen Angels; Raskolnikov in Crime and Punishment; Pierre Bezukhov in War and Peace; Ignatius J. Reilly in A Confederacy of Dunces; Gerald Gales in The Death Ship; the Tall Convict in The Wild Palms; Detective Martin Frost in Flash and Filigree.

- In spring, a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of love. Loathsome old fucks like me, on the other hand, we just try to stay off the streets until winter less we drop dead of concupiscency.

- This is your last chance to request gifts, souvenirs or other trinkets of my esteem from France. I'll be in Paris from Wednesday to the following Tuesday and I have about three inches of suitcase space, waiting to satisfy you. Dites-moi vos désirs Français plus profonds.
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  • The Party of What People?

    This will be my last entry of 2016.  Next year will begin, barring some unexpected act of fate, with the ascension to the presidency of Donald…

  • Anno Terribilis

    2016, the little year that absolutely could not, is almost over, and with the exception of people for whom it was a raging success —…

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