the state of the ruin

This morning, as I left for work, I neglected to put any cds in my car. Consequently, I was forced to listen to talk radio all day as I drove around (because fm is for pussies). My experience with am 650 taught me the following...

1) Ann Coulter's voice makes me want to Van Gogh my ears off.
2) I don't know if Tom Delay is guilty or not...but either way, he is still a jackass.
3) As far as I can tell, Jack Armstrong is probably dead. He has been replaced with a wild-eyed look-alike that only wants to talk about depression pills and the lack of sperm that live within his body.
4) Sean Hannity wants only two things out of life. The first is to make sure that every great American knows that he is a "great American." The second is to be Rush Limbaugh.
5) Speaking of which, Rush Limbaugh is still fat...and still a liar.
6) Michael Savage is obsessed with gays and is, in all likelihood, a closet homosexual (not that there's anything wrong with that).
7) Zell Miller needs to go away...seriously.
8) I can connect Bob Novak to the great Satan in four moves or less.
9) Bill O'Reilly likes to tell people to shut up. Over and over and over and...
10) George Bush is greatest president since...well, since that last dude.

guns don't kill people, dolphins kill people

Apparently, its not bad enough that the evil-doer has filled the world with hurricanes, terror attacks, and global warming...now I have to lay awake at night worrying about killer dolphins as well.

bumfights '05

I have decided that in lieu of saying hurtful things to the people in (and out) of my life that deserve it, I am going to start taking out all of my pent-up aggression on the homeless denizens of Chico. Although I probably don't have time to take on all of the homeless people in this town, I can certainly (at the very least) give up a few hours of my day to berate that bearded dude whose wife and kids are always trapped in some invisible car on some invisible Chico street.

And just for the record, its not as if I want to (or even could) cause any homeless person any sort of physical harm...because lets be honest, bums are tough. They eat trash, sleep on cardboard, walk uncounted miles, and kill deer with their bare hands (yeah, I made that last one up). If Rocky would have had some random homeless dude for a trainer, he would have knocked Apollo Creed out in the first round, guaranteed. Probably not that Russian dude, but definitely Apollo. The point is, if I were to physically fight a homeless guy, I would probably die. All I really want is a good shouting match...I just need to say aloud all of the accusations and insults that I have been carrying around in my heart for the past few months. Plus, most of my tirade would be filled with words that the vagrants are probably used to hearing on a daily basis anyway...liar, fraud, spoiled (okay, maybe they aren't used to that one), waste of time, deceitful, it was lust all along (or that one), and on and on and on...

Hooray for society's ready made punching/yelling bags.

stop getting up for the let down

For those of you who care about listening to music that doesn't completely suck balls, you should go buy the new Cartel and Coheed and Cambria records that came out today. Basically, these two albums own/slay/rule/kill every album that has come out lately*, so you really don't really have a choice. Sure, you could keep rocking out in your room to Staind or Ashlee Simpson or whatever, but then you would be a douchebag. Well, I guess if you want to get technical, some of you are already classified as douchebags in my book...so you three can just do whatever you want.


* the two new albums by the musical juggernauts mentioned above are better than every recent album except for the new nog record. But if you don't already own that, you are a lost cause and somebody should feed your face to the snakes.

this isn't who i am...from confidence to self-doubt

For those that missed the rock and roll (hide and seek) that hit Off-Limits last Thursday, here is the evidence...

Now, go back where you came from.

10/27/08 ps...turns out i might have deleted those pictures. whatever.

secret secret...i've got a secret

For years, Italian Dave (aka sickerthandeathdave) has been telling me that not only do I constantly create drama for myself, but that I enjoy doing it as well. The strange thing is, the boy acts as if my actions are a bad thing (toast to the times and all). However, judging from the fan/hate mail that I have been receiving lately, I think that he might actually be right...for once. Therefore, I have decided to forgo the discussion of (and reveling in) my own drama for the time being in order to focus on the drama of other people.

ps...This is the drama of other people. I am starting to feel better about myself already.

the young livers rule tonight

"when i die, they'll put me on a table...make me look like i did when i was alive. they'll tell all my friends and my family that i died of natural causes. but drinking's not natural." --Joel Kliebe: The Greatest Song Ever Written

I was certain that when the queen of the momos moved out to the land of mormons and potatoes, I would lose my rights to all things latenightinchico. Surely, I thought, it would only be a matter of time until my favorite bartenders forgot my favorite drinks, girls forgot my name, and I forgot my bar-crawl identity. But no. It seems that as time progresses, I am slowly becoming even more well known (and you all thought I had peaked already) in this dirtmall town. Its really not helping my downtrodden loner image, but whatever...loneliness can wait.

The point is, I have been going out too much and my liver has approximately two weeks to live. So enjoy those drunk dials while you can...

and the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again

I was in the middle of taking a shower earlier (all lathered up and no place to go) when I noticed a group of six baby spiders playing/drowning in the water. The animal rights activist inside of me sprang into action, and I scooped up the little guys, moving them out of harm's way. I felt so bad for them...helpless and scared, lost in a foreign linoleum world. They probably thought that they were under attack from giants, and that I was going to make them into some sort of soup or garnish or something. I felt as though I had to do something to make the moment more special and lasting for all involved, so I named each spider before putting them all back where I had found them...water off of course.

Then I smashed them. Each and every fricking one.

dear prado, ya done good kid. love, josh

After enduring the initial letdown of not getting to see Number One Notplayinginabar, tonight turned out to be decent after all. Not quite Butter, but close. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the cryptic rundown...

...one dollar beers (good thing I'm allergic), jaw-dropping Casey Deitz, don't push me I'm that dude from Sherwood, now you hiccup now you don't, that walk to tacos is sooo two years ago, normal street is dead jpeg...let it go, Daniel Taylor's first kiss (her not me), drunk dial arguing (lets not do that again), this many people listen to crap like this?, barefoot guitar stomping, day early high school reunion, lonely and disfigured at 2 in the morning...

katrina is a bitch

I have been trying for the past few days to understand all of the destruction, devastation, and demolition (plus whatever other "d" words you like) that is taking place in New Orleans and beyond. I have been faithfully watching the news (Fox News just for you, Joelboy) every morning, but as the days progress, the images pouring out of my television are becoming less and less realistic. Its the same sort of thing that happened during the tsunami I suppose. Cars floating down rivers, housing projects that now resemble lakeside stepping stones, roving gangs of gun-toting lunatics, stories of murder and rape and looting... none of it makes any sense.

To me, New Orleans might as well be Indonesia...or the moon for that matter. After all, my understanding of each place is equally limited. I understand that this whole thing is a tragic and life-changing event for a great number of people, and I know that on some instinctual human level I should be sad or concerned or both...but I am finding it difficult to empathize with the troubles that these people are going through. The truth is, the worst thing that I have been forced to endure (besides the occasional summer heartbreak) is having my clavicle broken by some dude that is really good at running away from car accidents. Without some personal connection to disasters like Hurricane Katrina, its hard to fathom that life can get that difficult. Sometimes, it almost seems easier to pretend that I (and maybe you) am the centerpiece of some grand trumanshowish reality, and the world around me is all prefabricated...with all of its biblical floods and talibans and such.

ps...just between the two of us, I sometimes wonder that if I were to drive out across the country, would New Orleans even exist? Or is it something that I dreamt up along the way...a recurring dream within a recurring dream.