It's been awhile. Almost a year, I suppose. I've been bouncing around a few bars, bounced my head off of a few curbs, told a few jokes, and been the butt of a few more. And I've loved every second of it.
I'm excited about this summer. I love how volatile the weather's been. Springtime seems angry like it's ready for a fight or something. It has the excitement of summer before senior year. Before you're about to blow off the last year of high school with a beer buzz and a cloud of smoke. We're seniors and we've got a hall pass to the city.
It feels good to be back in the Loaf. Feels even better that it's still around. CL's been battling, sometimes uphill. But now it seems it has the taste of blood. And I like that. I'll take that shark in any fight.
I have loads of ideas for pieces rattling around this 10-cent head, and they're all mostly positive aside for the racial stereotyping, name-calling and shameless self-promotion. But they'll all have my best intentions. For now, let's roll the bones and tap on the glass. Like in a pet store, the snake tank always reads, "Do NOT tap on glass."
Let's tap on it.
Here are some bourbon inspirations I scratched down on cocktail napkins. Basically, things I think about, just not thoroughly:
Let them settle it in the plywood circle. Standard dimensions.
The Audacity of Coke. That would be a great title for Bush's memoir that I'm sure he's not working on. But seriously, who's going to write that piece of shit?
"Naw, dude. I hated that band waaay before you hated them."
"What?! I'm the one who started everyone hating them. Ask Pitchfork."
Then one of them peels out on his fixed-gear. But they'll be friends again. He needs to get his jean short cut-offs back. And his wallet chain. And his beard.
I'm in. Who's buying?
"#67. A bucket of shit can't masturbate to the new Jeff Tweedy record."
Go to Criminal. Buy a Chunklet. Thank Henry.
But the next morning, your head feels like Bodie when that wave murders him at the end.
But all is well with a couple of Aleve, a glass of water, and Agent Pappas (Gary Busey) yelling for his meatball subs, "Utah! Gimme two!"
Cured. Now take a look in the mirror and turn your swag on.
All are far more pleasing than the former. Shit, even "Audio Captcha" sounds better than Mudvayne.
Or maybe "Atlas Captcha" if your band is ridiculously boring. "Selmanaires" is already taken.
Fucking yikes. Write you own punch line to that one.
Here's to Ben Rhoades and MJQ...
Suck it, Vice. (see photo above)
I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure it was a cute little breezy who gave me the advice, "Live every week like shark week."
I like the bravado of that. It's silly, but it has a taste of blood. Whimsical, but dangerous. Laugh if you get the joke. Sing if you like the song. Atlanta, let's make some dangerous moves.
It's good to be back, Creative Loafing. MAYOR OF PONCE
(Photo ad courtesy Ben Rhoades)
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