Michael Fucking Vick!

Here's an idea for punishment for this small-minded, needle-dicked piece of shit: I say take all of the dogs that he mistreated and trained to be killers that are still alive. Then have four horses start to draw and quarter Vick. But they should only let him grow taught and not actually tear his limbs off. Just enough to start to hurt and to render him defenseless. Then...you got it: test how well he had trained his dogs: Let them at him. Eat well pitbulls, eat well. But not too fast. Make him feel it. Make him suffer.

Tunes in the Works

I've recently been busy recording a tune I wrote called "Shotgun Shells & Wedding Bells," for a compilation album called "Lies, Drought and Cheap Gas" that will feature a range of tunes from frequenters of the altcountrytab.ca messageboard. This is a really talented lot of folks that includes professional songwriters and musicians and I hope my tune doesn't stand out as the clunker in the lot.

In the near future I hope to have this tune and shortly thereafter a few others posted online somewhere for your listening pleasure. Stay tuned.

A DBT Two-fer

Halle-frackin-leuja, I am on musical cloud nine. The Greatest Rock Band in the World will be rolling up to the NYC in October for a two-night stand of greatness and I've already got the tickets. The Drive-By Truckers will be playing Bowery Ballroom Friday night and at a new venue that is a three-minute walk from my pad on Saturday. The band is reported to be playing in the Dirt Underneath format of recent shows where the band sits on a twisted living-room-inspired stage playing acoustically. This will be a rare and wonderful treat...though I will never ever balk at the chance of experiencing the face-melting bliss of the DBT Rock Show.

The Adamses Invade the Redneck Riviera

Boy Howdy, earlier this month Marnie and I had the great pleasure of travelling to Surf City, NC to spend some time with some paternal peeps who had rented a house on the beach for a week. Because we were late to the party, Marnie and I stayed in a hotel and decided to arrive on Friday night when everyone else would be there Saturday. Bumping around the dive-town of Surf City is good for the self-image: boy, on that beach I was slender, sleek, and really friggin good looking, to put it lightly. Lots of bad hair-cuts, overlapping guts, and spandex bikinis whose seams were being tested with industrial-sized loads.

It was nice once everyone else arrived (and brought the rains with them) and we finally found the house (where in the eff is this place!!!!) where everyone was staying. It was more peaceful and secluded. Plus, it was really great to sit around and shoot the you know what with my family. Plus, it was a great chance for Marnie to get better acquainted with everyone--and they didn't even scare her away. It is all too rare when you can get together with with peeps, whether family or friends, and just hang out. And I didn't take this trip for granted.

Been a While

Wheweee, what a summer it has been! It has been a little while since I've been around this corner of the blogosphere. I've been busy, busy lately, man. After the wedding and honeymoon, we finally started getting caught up on life when we were unexpectedly pulled away for another week. And this was in the midst of a complete soup-to-nuts refurbish of the backyard. Marnie and I have taken the cement-and-chain-link-fence-lined yard and turned it into a wooden oasis complete with candles, plants, and a 6x9 cedar shed. And the coolest feature of the shed is the fact that it has a porch.

Oh how I've longed for the days of having a porch. I have pretended that my fire escape, front stoop, and yard were my porch, but they are alll rather half-assed substitutes. Now, I can honestly, earnestly, and full of gusto say, "I'm going out to sit on the back porch."

While it isn't quite totally finished, the backyard project was quite an adventure. Marnie and I did the vast majority of the work ourselves. This meant many many trips to the hell-in-Brooklyn that is an urban Home Depot. I think I'd much rather a trip to Rikers. It is impossible to get help from any employees. If you do find some shitbag in an orange pinney, well, it's not their department, so they can't help you...and it is waaaaaayyyyy beyond the protocol to actually help a customer find an employee who does work in that department.

I don't quite know why--and maybe it is just the NYC or maybe it's a sign of the times--but it is virtually impossible to get good, efficient, knowledgeable service anymore. Sure, if you go to a fancy restaurant you still get good service. But otherwise, it's pretty much a crap shoot at best, with crap being the operative word. In Hipsterville, Turdburg, Brooklyn, most of the time the level of service ranges from "what the fuck do you want?" to the downright pleasant "why are you bothering me with your presence?" Why is it that these sorts make you feel like they are doing you a huge favor by just barely doing their job?

It is endless and endless and endless occassions like those laid out that have made me really really appreciate good service. Whether it was the guy at the nursery who actually knew his shit about plants or the cool Japanese restaurant that has a call button on the table and whose waitresses respond within 10 seconds (I counted), it seems like such a treat to get the service you deserve for forking over your hard-earned loot.... Or is that loot actually hard-earned? Do you wait tables in my neighborhood or work at the Bed-Stuy Home Depot?