Okay, so this show is coming up this weekend. This Sunday, April 3rd, I’ll be dazzling the Beat Kitchen with my own unique take on what music sounds like when filtered through a dirty man with questionable talents and I would like to encourage all of you to go, if for no other reason than I’ve been practicing and it’ll really suck if I did all this practicing (at the expense of taking care of my children and personal safety, mind you) and then no one showed up to see the wonderfully halfassed results. I mean, this shit’s gonna be poppin off, y’all. Are the kids still saying that kind of thing?

Okay, I’m highly uninspired today. I started writing about what a dildo Fred Phelps is, and I was gonna segue into Kirk Cameron and make some kind of wacky correlation that proves that closeted homosexual self-loathers are some of the most fucked up people on earth, but it just seems like that’s not really that interesting. I was also gonna touch on my weekend, which was DEFINITELY not interesting, even though I went to a hockey game and had a good time watching two gigantic black twins (dudes) make fun of a trashy drunk mom while we were all crammed into an elevator….ah, good times.

Anyway, the long and short of this is that today, I’m out of ideas, but it’s Monday and I know you all need SOMETHING to do while you’re taking dumps, so here’s this, the most content-free BSC entry in some time. I don’t have anything nice to say, nor do I have anything negative to say. I hate Mondays…I guess that could be construed as negative…BUT! One of my favorite dudes is coming to visit me this week, so that hatred is tempered by enthusiasm for the near future. Also, I’ve got that show, which means I’ll be seeing some of you, my lovely Dogs of War, and that’s a pretty great thing too.

Ah fuck. That’s all. I dunno. Maybe I’ll close with a joke.

This joke was first told to me by the incomparable Pete Anna one day when we were making the journey between Elgin and Chicago (which direction we were going escapes me) in his red Jeep, probably fifteen years ago. It goes like this:

A penguin decided he wanted to take a road trip. He had never really been out of Antarctica and really wanted to check out the States, so he flew to Miami and rented a car with the intent of driving to San Diego before flying home. Well, everything is going swimmingly until, somewhere in the middle of Texas when the ‘low oil pressure’ light comes on. “That’s not good” says the penguin. he pulls off the highway and as luck would have it, finds a small town with a service station.

The mechanic tells the penguin to hang out for about an hour while he figures out what’s wrong with the car. The penguin decides to walk around and check out the little town and return back in an hour. So, he’s walking along and he sees an ice cream parlor. Now, penguins LOVE ice cream, so he runs in and gets a large cone before continuing on his way. BUT, the cone begins to melt in the heat of the Texas sun and the penguin, having only flippers, was ill equipped to deal with the drippings. By the time he arrived back at the service station, he was a sticky mess.

The penguin walked up to the mechanic and says “so, did you figure out what was wrong with my car?”

The mechanic says “Looks like you blew a seal” and the penguin says “what this? No. This is ice cream.”

There you go folks. Pretty good joke. Share it with someone you love.


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