Archive for April 8th, 2009

Oh hello, The season opener on April 19th will now commence at four thirty/fiveish instead of two, and go until the sound of the vacuum cleaner overtakes the drunken banter. Here's my reasoning; cause i said so. Actually i've fielded a little flack about earthday and upcountry sundays and would vewee much like to have as many of you chowderheads show up as possible, thus the late start. If the musicians get too cold, we'll bring in Disco Dave and the e-rave firedancers to keep things warm. Mom says her band is used to playing outdoor winter gigs in the parking lots of Bayonne shopping malls, so no sweat. The Gumbo brothers, Moe and Joe are setting up a 55 gallon drum filled with garbage to burn so that they feel like they're at one of their real gigs. There may be a hillbilly or two lurking in the underbrush. Bring some good grinds and remember, parking inside for metaphysicians only. The chicklets are about ten days away from being big enough to put out in the gated communities assigned them according to color, race and egg size. By big enough, I mean incapable of squeezing through two inch chicken wire and capable of enough flight to reach mongoose proof roosts. The fly power is there, we just have to beef em' up a bit. Chick food isn't too expensive, but in exploring the options, it turned out that the depression deals they have on Taco Bell nacho's (three styles) fell just under the chickfood price curve, so alls I do is call in my order for a couple of dozen assorted nacho's and they come meet me at the telephone exchange and slide me the goods on the downlow in case someone from the feed and grain may be watching. The cheese and beans and sourcream are definately having a positive effect on their weight profile and I keep on seeing them craning their necks to look back at their tail feathers as if to wonder, is my ass too big for these feathers? They're at that tender age where appearance is everything. One of Doc Bebockbocs Portaghee friends, Souza Ventura asked me to save ten hens and a rooster for him and then backed out of the deal when he found out you have to take care of them in order to keep them alive. Soooo, there's this one little rooster bouncing around the Leghorn pen trying to decide whether to shit or go blind. He runs around humping everything in sight, but you can tell that he's not really sure why. Meanwhile the ducks are displaying every sort of mating/fighting behaviour in the Book of Muscovy, from delicate neck bobbing to agressive wing biting to corkscrew peckers trying to find purchase. We're thinking of hanging a few webcams from the trees and streaming live duck porn worldwide in an attempt to provide yet another vital and sustainable service to the broadest possible spectrum of plant and animal loving perverts. We could use the cashflow too. I got an email from my buddy Vincent "boombatz" Cardinalli reminding me that it was the forty seventh anniversary of the time he and i got into the parents gin stash resulting in every zinnia plant in the yard dying from puke exposure. Funny what people remember. He remembers every year because it was on the tuesday before the Masters that he came over to my house after school and talked me into pillaging the alcohol stash. A word about the Masters. During the six or seven hours a day that the tournament is televised, my intent is to become immersed, nay obsessed with the viewing of this, a tradition like no other. I will plump the pillows, surround myself with food,drink,remote controls and recreational substances; calls will be ignored (except for Roger and Geoff), shoppers will be shunned and all but an act of the Almighty Hoohaa ( Danielle?) will keep me from the rapture of soaking up the very essence of the Thing. And day after day this revelation of sport will build on itself until the leaders make the turn on the final day to battle it out in golfs equivalent of two out in the bottom of the ninth, three and two count, trailing by three runs and hitting a grand slam in the world series to win it all, except taking three hours to do so,like moderately good sex with sandwich breaks. What I'm saying is that if you want food this weekend, go to Mana and pay 20% more. No bahddah me. I can afford to say this because i beat the spread on the NCAA finals to double my net worth. Wouldn't YOU like to know. I can tell you its high three figures. Let the good times roll. But really, all kidding aside, stay away unless you're a goon for golf or can accept me at 20% attention span for thirty second bursts wearing a self indulgent smirk conveying the message, "these are not the droids you are looking for". Peace out, Jp P.S. Shout out to the Savior who was spotted recently in the body of a street vendor selling deep fried insects and reptiles in Pattaya Thailand, where there is no word for sin.