Mood Surgery

It is in times like these, when logic and mortal wisdom offer us no hope of salvation, that we must open our hearts and seek guidance from the all-seeing, the all-knowing force at the very core of existence that makes us not mere men, but infinite beings at one with the universe.





So hey Internet: should I quit my job?
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Well, I just wasted my morning:



Caption this questionable cut-and-paste idealization of myself to my satisfaction and I'll buy you a beer.
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Ew ew ew. I just found out that this girl I knew when I was, like, a pre-schooler was, until very recently, dating one of the guys now running for mayor of Halifax. I guess I'll just leave it at that, 'cause I don't wanna be all gossipy about it (and I don't need another surprise readership episode, thanks), but I couldn't help at least mentioning it here because like, dude, fuck... gross. Weirding me the fuck out. AC/DC was right. But really, are they ever not?

...

So I was doing a crossword puzzle on the crapper tonight at work, and one of the clues was "like Lex Luthor." Four letters. I scribbled in "bald." Of course, right? Turned out the word was "evil." I wonder how I'd score on a word association test.
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I'm so glad I decided to sit around the house doing nothing tonight. I just got off the phone with erstwhile This Message Will Self-Destruct singer and all-around swell guy Ross Larkin, who was wandering the streets of Montreal drunk out of his gourd on La Fin du Monde beer when he just randomly decided to call me. We talked for three quarters of an hour, laughing and scheming and just generally touching base while he dodged smoke-bumming franco-hobo-punks on Rue Ste Cat's. He hadn't even heard about the band breaking up. Anyway, it's all good, and I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And no, I'm not drinking. Well, now I am, but shut up.

So yeah, if you know Ross, he told me to tell you he says "hi," and that life is good out there in Frogtown.

I love completely-unexpected late-night long distance phone calls. As long as they're not, like, from some long-ago ex-girlfriend slapping me with a surprise paternity suit or something. I really ought to get a plan one of these days.

PS- NOMEANSNO KICKED MOTHERFUCKING ASS. MOTHER. FUCKING. ASS. What an amazing, inspiring band. It reminds me of something Thy Fresh Legumes Gerald said about Lemmy one time: "When as old as Lemmy you are, rock as hard as he you will not." Just, y'know, replace "Lemmy" with... well, you get the picture.

Till next time, true beleivers.
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So hey: my house didn't burn down, so that's pretty cool. I only had to sleep on the grass meridian of a parking lot for one night, as opposed to the indefinite several that I'd envisioned when it seemed like it was all going to hell.

Anyway, what's important here is that Derrick Hiltz is gonna be interviewing
Mike Watt live on air at 11:30 (eastern time) this morning. How this isn't local news is way beyond me. Maybe that's how he wanted it.

Either way, listen online and learn something.

Mike Watt!
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TREACHERY! DECEIT!

I only just now clued in to the fact that I was duped into agreeing to a gig the same night as the Nomeansno show by a couple of my heartless degenerate bandmates.

Oh hoho, how I shall relish watching the dim flicker of life slowly fade, and then extinguish, from their beady little punk eyes as I bring vengeance unto them. Oh yes. Their suffering will be exquisite.

Or whatever. Sigh. Jerkfaces. So what this means, anyway, is that System Shit is playing the Seahorse this Saturday. Come early if you wanna see us, 'cause I plan on playing thirty times faster than ever before and hightailing it over to the Marquee STAT. Ain't no fucking way I'm missing the brothers Wright.

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It's really stupid how infatuation works. You might have no problem whatsoever talking to a person, until some dumb little random moment when they make yr heart skip a beat and all of a sudden you wonder how you hadn't been enthralled by said person in the first place. And then it's hard to even look them in the eye, let alone talk to them. It makes even less sense than most of the rest of life.

I hate that I always use "you" in the objective sense like that. I'm only referring to myself.
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Hey everybody, tune in to the Saturday Night Tom Savini Fair on CKDU 97.5 FM RIGHT NOW if you want any or all of these things:

1) one of five free This Message will Self-Destruct "c/o" 12" EPs being handed out to callers. Get one now because we're gonna have a giant vinyl bonfire with the rest of them soon.

2) to listen to the Tragedies perform live and talk about genital infections

3) to check out quite possibly the best radio show in Halifax. Maybe the WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD too.

GO GO GO! LISTEN ONLINE, EVEN.
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