I don’t know, for some reason I’m feeling that need to “caveman out” lately. Y’know, to spend a day at home in the dark accomplishing absolutely nothing. Wake up early, never get properly dressed, make breakfast without a shirt on and rip CDs all day. Just fundamentally waste a day, for no other reason than I can. In this day and age we’re afforded a lot more luxuries than our ancestors. Back then, one day not hunter-gatherering meant one day not feeding the tribe. Today, to me, one day not working, or not doing anything for that matter, really has a net effect of nil. I can afford it see, my tribe can afford it, the world can afford it. So get off my back already, I’m busy, doing nothing.
Another ripping project flashback, I’m now listening to Ween’s “The Stallion Pt. 3” from their Pure Guava LP. (Readers note: I snobbishly use the abbreviation “LP” and word “album” to describe those things most commonly now referred to generically as “CDs.” This is a music-purist and elitist thing, sorry to be such a prick.) Anyway, when we first heard this album we were sure it was a damn joke or something. I mean, gradeschool beats, crappy guitar, and laughable lyrics made the whole thing seem so tongue-in-cheek. However, since we were way into the comedy of stupid – we bit hard. So much so that as 9th graders we each shelled out $10 bucks for tickets to see Gene and Dean Ween play live at some dive in a Melbourne, FL strip-mall. I mean, if you count the twenty-twin-twin we paid a little more per person, but whatever. Live Ween is sublime to a gaggle of stoned 15 and 16 year-olds. And when they busted into that “Purple Rain” cover right after “Flies On My Dick,” sheer genius. Thanks for the memories Ween. I mean, we called Joey’s big brown Oldsmobile the “Poop Ship Destroyer” for years.
You feel gyp’d? Too bad, Dave out.