putt putt

So the automobile dealerman informed me I need to get some fixin' done on my lower intake manifold gasket so I don't get any...urine in my testes. 1,100 Federal Reserve Notes, they're asking! So I gave it to my mom and had her toss the bidding, cash, to her mechanicals at the forklift company. Let's hope for a $600 offer so I don't have to scoot around paranoid my hood and exhaust are going to hack white smoke sputter and kick the bucket!

Feck, I just put an almost-new engine in Charli less than thirty thousand miles ago. Why do these mobiles have to have so many parts? Why can't we drift from place-to-place in pneumatic tubes? I suppose that is asking for bad, a control system and all.

And look at this! Somebody be filing a dis on my bar!

"I will not return here. The seating arrangement in the bar is odd, with reserved tables (I have never seen that before) and no one checking to see if the reservers showed. My wife and I were relegated to the most uncomfortable bar stool positions. The room is smoky, odd because it is very large. Our bar-type food was average or worse. Fried squid was tough (overcooked), and the wings were the tiniest I have ever seen, in fact I did not know such chickens existed! My wife's mojito was incorrectly made (with creme de menthe rather than mint) and tasted bad as a result. Everything was pricey: happy hour deals were poor and we paid 23 dollars/person for two appetizers, three beers, the mojito, and dessert."

Brenn's translation: "M...m-m-m...mmy wife's mojito has been blended improperly! And the smoky haze in this bar will not be tolerated, sir! I INSIST on speaking with your Maitre d' THIS INSTANT!"


Soupy; time for me to barricade up and ready to whup the wits out of another weekend with the wonderful assistance of Meryl.

This is all you get.

Goodnight!

FFHA Chair grants second-ever Class III Facial Hair permit

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

FFHA Chair grants second-ever Class III Facial Hair permit

In a move only reserved for the rarest circumstances and individuals, the Federal Facial Hair Authority Chairman Lee R. Brenn has issues a Class III Facial Hair permit to recent applicant and singer-songwriter-multi instrumentalist David Eugene Edwards.

"Until 2008, we felt the only individual acceptable responsible enough for the Class III permissions was Tom Waits," said Brenn, "but on further reconsideration, we've also decided to extend the privilege to David Eugene Edwards, formerly of rock band 16 Horsepower."

A Class III FCP permits the trimming and wielding of a soul patch for the permit holder, and allows them to collaborate and transfer between other Class III permit holders, who up until recently only consisted of Tom Waits.

"The Class III is a difficult permit to acquire. One must conduct themselves in only the most haughty manner and display complete disinterest in matters both fortunate and unfortunate. In other words, personify hip and cool," Brenn said.

Earlier today, an application from Class III FCP aspirant and Grammy award-winning jazz vocalist Kurt Elling was rejected for the third time.

Said Brenn, "Our condolences to Mr. Elling; we have a great appreciation for his music, but must concede that he has too much swank and smarm to be granted Class III permission from the FCP at this time. Until then, we ask that Mr. Elling abide by his Class IIA permit and assume a goatee or pencil-line beard to avoid facing the full measure of the law's consequences."

-Brenn

Doug Stanhope, Go Home parts 2 and 3. And he's returning to the Triple Rock on April 11th!

And don't forget a Dream Theater, May 12th.

For the interim, see you at all the Jacobins and Will Tolle shows.

-Lee

Bye -bye Mitt. We'll miss you...on purpose.

Don't take your shoes off just yet...

Luke and I are now Republican delegates in our precinct. Daniel Malice, Nik and Corey Sax, Mai and Meryl also locked themselves in. I'm getting dirty in neocon juice through this journey just for you, America. And Rex.

Anyhow, slip into your water wings and flip-flops applesauces, because The Jacobins are playing us a big gig at the Turf Club tomorrow (Thursday) night! They're on first, so Luke and I'll be cabbing on the intent of doing some swill con los comrades early.

And no need to rest up this weekend: Will Tolle is on stage at the ungodly evening hour of NINE, at the 400 Club, Monday the 11th.

Me oh my, Brenn's got to prepare himself for all this outer-apartment activity. 'scuse me.

I am sorry this isn't funny, but you're going to see it anyways.











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