I'll keep this brief as I am under the influence of several laxatives and day beers. First, let me thank all of you who kept me propped up and moving during the LA/Chicago/Toronto run. It was four days of little or no sleep, 6 am flights and unnecessary other bullshit so I appreciate your patience if the joke took a few minutes longer to get to.
And, thanks to Joe Rogan for coming out and for the write-up on your site. It does end a bit like an obituary but I feel pretty good right now. I think that the tragic death of Las Vegas impressionist Danny Gans was a wake-up call to a lot of people in this industry, a strong cup-o-coffee reminder that even the greats are still mortal.
Ride that crazy Al Pacino send-up all the way to the skies, Danny-Boy. Not just anybody can be famous simply by filling up every third billboard from LA to Vegas and on the side of 10,000 Sin City cabs. You also need a name that is fairly easy to remember. You had that and more, Mr. Gans. If only Jesus didn't love Joe Cocker imitations so much, you might still be here with us on Earth.
But not all the news is bad.
The Bisbee Copper Kings are getting ready to play. You can find their schedule HERE. If you are looking for me this summer and the Copper Kings are playing at home, pony up your 5 bucks and enjoy the greatest ball park in America with me 'n Bingo 'n Dave 'n Evelyn 'n Bob 'n Karen 'n Phil 'n Betty and the rest of the loud, beer-swilling crew of hecklers alongside first base.
If I'm not on the road, I'm at the game.
The games I will be missing that I strongly recommend to the rest of America is the IWFL. Take a look to see if your city has a team. Womens tackle football. That's right, faggot. I see your Roller Derby and I raise you a horse-collar tackle on a thick-backed lesbian in the red zone.
Andrist and I first became aware of the league several years back when we tailgated a Sacramento Sirens game and painted our bellies in support. The whole team came to the show at the Punchline afterwards and we had a complete fucking blast.
So while my heart will always have an open sore for the Sirens, I am also going to have to support my local Tucson Monsoons. Unfortunately they seem to book their home games when I'm on the road and this may be done on purpose. Not eveyone wants me as a fan.
OhMyGoodness! Look, I forgot to put some funny in this update!
Well, go fuck myself.
Chaille will fill it full of good links and ugly photos. I will be getting fatter as I have re-quit smoking for a week. But I have been getting some sun. Fat looks better when it's brown. Nigger please.
I have the Northwest and the Texas runs coming up, about my Top 2 favorites. Come out and let's enjoy some violent hate with the warmth and camaraderie of a roomful of like minds.
I'm having a good night and watching some really bad tv for all the wrong reasons. I have to be up early to do some desert landscaping. Maybe pushing around 5 tons of river rock will make my body look somewhat under 70 years old but I doubt I hold out that long before hiring an illegal.
Don't worry, I'll be knee deep in shit by the time we're on the road if only to be professional.
Thanks to all of you who keep giving me shit at gigs who I will never remember. All sorts of weird shit ends up in my bag. DVDs and CDs and books and notes and vodka and a metal scorpian knife or any other any range of ridiculousness.
My neighbors come over and ask about something here and again and I have to say - "Ya, that. Someone gave it to me somewhere for some reason. I dont know who but it's cool as fuck."
I dont even remember to say thanks when you send me shots on stage - mostly because I dread 90 percent of them. The other 10 percent I couldnt live without. It's a conundrum. But thanks none the less.
The sickly-sweet tone of this update makes me think Rogan is right.
I'm a dead man.
Get your friends on the mailing list.
It's the most important thing in keeping me on the road.
UK dates will be up soon. I don't have em right here but it'll be England late August and early September and Dublin early October.
I'm going to bed happy for no particular reason.