07.30.08
tomorrow night is
strangers wasted 2.0
it’s the unveiling
07.24.08
“if i lived here for a day i’d understand”
so montreal is not part of canada. they are also not part of the united states. they are not part of mexico. oh, pardon me, montréal, or actually pardonez-moi, Montréal.
one might say Montréal is the exact polar opposite of tijuana, mexico. [just a thought]
cruising up interstate 87 to the border, past plattsburgh, ny – searching the radio for some franco-phonics – i found it. just in time for the border crossing, the french version of “girl” by the beatles fills the car. this is followed by “no woman no cry,” this one with a flair that one could only accuse of being parisian . . .
so a few notes on our northern neighbors [it's a lot closer than you think] and their pseudo-sovereign province:
- the skyline | mighty impressive [for canadia of course, it even beats a philly or a boston]
- the cops wear jeans and red beanies? ok maybe they aren’t beanies, but red baseball hats, close enough. maybe it’s that whole – we aren’t canadian canadian – so let’s get as far away from the mountie image as we can? and also ban all maple syrup [unless used in the famous crepes of the land]
- only the french [or those that speak it well (where well means much better than my butchering of an otherwise incomprehensible language)] can complement a stuffed pig’s foot with the obscenely rich foie gras. [and that's not even getting into the duck in a can discussion]
- bangin’ bagels in the midst of french canada? [and there is 'no canada but french canada' thank you terrence and phillip! perhaps a new license plate motto?]
- and what is it exactly, that we (or is it just i) will remember? and will this recall be via some mime induced hypnosis?
- what would happen if i just got out of my car before the border crossing, and made a break for the u.s.? [i bet the papers would all say that the tragic american young man just didn't want to declare the jar of olives and bunch of basil in his back seat. quelle tragédie - spouts the headline]
- the lyrics filling the car via cd minutes from that border, going back home – a rather fitting bookend for the bonjour tunes two days prior – “blue eyes, white lies / straight teeth and a crooked soul / let the red blood and the green dinero flow / americano!” – roger clyne
07.07.08
happy seventh of july
the chances of being born in america – if looked at from some sort of pre-conception karmic lottery – are (on the high end) 1/20. that’s 5%.
so one might say we’re a bit lucky.
and i’m not the flag waving, flag lapel wearing type either [just like your friend and mine barrack hussein obama, right?]
but my point is this: for all the shit we talk in this country (and we do talk a whole lot of collective shit,) we are protected (to most practical ends) to talk as much of that shit as we could like. please excuse my scatological excesses here, but hey, “double-you-tee-eff” it’s f&#*ing america, no? not just the free speech that borders on the tasteless and the indecent, but all sorts of ideological babble (with specks of brilliance of course)
so god (or whatever all-powerful force [or nonforce]) bless america
-why does it seem that all operators of escalades drive like jerks?
it there some economic answer having to do with high opportunity costs of time spent driving (such high wages for such high rollas,) and expected costs of tickets, wrecks, and so on being less of a percentage of total income (again the high rolla factor,) or perhaps jerks are just attracted to jerky cars [but what came first the jerk or the jerky car?]
