Rockin' New Semi-Daily Format

But why? Why do I have to go and change shit up like this?

Well, the Fat Kid here has become increasingly uninspired with the task of saving up noteworthy shit and compiling it every month. By the time I find the opportunity to do a new episode, I've forgotten what it was that I wanted to write about. Plus it takes like nine hours to do it that way. So I thought I'd try this format which hopefully will mean shorter updates, but more of them. I hope that people can check it out from their jobs right before they sneak a peek at some porn before the boss comes in. So we'll see how well this format works out. It may turn out to be way more of an ass-pain; who knows?

But it's not a 'blog! 'Blogs are for fags. I prefer to call it a Life Newsletter. You can call it whatever you like, whatever makes you feel good, unless that means calling it a blog.

So then...

I saw Dogtown and Z-Boys the other day with three dudes and my woman. A pretty dang enjoyable piece of cinema, except for that fag Henry Rollins. I have historically been a big fan of the Rollins mythos, but lately, every time I see him do commentary on TV or something, I'm just really embarrassed for him. Everything he describes is just SO FUCKING INTENSE, MAN. You and I know that not everything in the world is quite that momentous. Some things are just okay, some are great, some suck. But the guy is 41 or something, so I guess he needs to feel like he's in on some groundbreaking shit.

Then about three weeks ago I went to a... lecture, I guess you'd call it, by Mr. James Howard Kuntsler, esteemed author and outspoken critic of shitsprawl. It was real interesting and he's good at poking fun at suburbanite values and stuff. But what was real strange was that he made a point in his speech to compliment Denver on its smart growth (and he did it twice), and then put the smackdown on Denver, specifically Littleton, on his Clusterfuck Nation website (scroll down to the April 22 entry). I ain't saying I disagree with him, but it was weird that he, of all people, would blow sunshine up our asses to our face and then write this.

Duty occasionally prevails upon me to have to visit the place he's talking about. And it is indeed "dismal human ecology." Me and the woman were down there a couple weeks ago for some reason, and a thinking person assuredly starts to feel real agitated and anxious when he spends any more than about 15 minutes there on a weekend. Herds upon herds of chubby, pale, Ford Excursion-driving automatons descend on Home Depot and Best Buy every weekend. It's hot, it's congested, it's ugly, and it's annoying as all fuck. Please don't make me go down there anymore.

IN HEAVY ROTATION PRESENTLY

Flamin' Groovies: Flamingo (Big Beat Records, 1971)

This album, recently loaned to me by none other that Kitt "Fucking" Kourage (yes, thee Kitt Kourage), has my nutz pert' near slammed shut in the freezer door. I'm thinking that this record, which was born the same year as me, is responsible for a great many of today's hep bands: your Swingin' Neckbreakers, your Woggles, and so on and so forth.

Make it stink.

HIDE