Toxic Shock

good morning .....

how's things in your neighborhood?

it's an overcast day here, one that would be perfect for long medicational--i mean "meditational"--bike rides up and over mountains, bagging views of forever and beyond--but i'm .... well ..... i'm in the doldrums, suffering from chronic outrage overload ......

i have an editorial series in the works, as well as my standard vituperations ready to roll, but .... i'm just feeling a little overhwelmed by the barrage of bullshit that's disseminated by a corrupt and diseased media ....

i'm ..... tired ..... so ........ tired ...........

plus i'll be playing a show at the stencho grotesque-o this afternoon, so ..... i'm loading up the rocket car with guitars and amplifiers and i'd much rather be out biking .....

in the old days we played the "reefer circuit ....." all the venues were clouded in the heady aroma of that good old wacky tabacky, and audiences were appropriately receptive ....

that turned into the "urinal circuit," where all the stages seemed to be positioned right next to the lavatories .... as the night progessed--and as people's need for access was inversely proportionate to the deterioration of their coordination and aim--the smell of urine and pee cakes wafted across the stage .....

now i seem to be playing the grease circuit, where i get exciting close-ups of people shovelling grease soaked foods into their gaping maws, while the heady bouquet of antique deep fried shit hangs in an oleaginous miasma in the turgid air .....

it's like being in a feed lot: a vista of grinding, chewing, ruminating, salivating, drooling, slobbering, foaming, masticating blank faces .....

god, there are a lot of masticators in the world!

excuse me ..... gotta run ......

to the bathroom .......

next: dr. pete bellies up to the trough