tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8215493615229181701.post1899905288868878776..comments2024-01-12T04:03:15.871-05:00Comments on Bleedin' Out: Reno 911Nazz Nomadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03722964855836770177noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8215493615229181701.post-90553103189314435622011-09-16T02:12:12.096-04:002011-09-16T02:12:12.096-04:00Sounds like you boys had a good time. I've ne...Sounds like you boys had a good time. I've never partied in Reno...<br /><br />John's just pissed that the Mustang Ranch is more famous than his Super Secret Pony Ranch.<br /><br />I'm curious what you boys think about the new Alabama band... reminds me a bit of Maggie Bell.@elohhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15974297923741455898noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8215493615229181701.post-57920825313784679392011-09-15T00:23:42.514-04:002011-09-15T00:23:42.514-04:00Part II as mandated by blogspots comment rules-
T...Part II as mandated by blogspots comment rules-<br /><br />That is until you transfer me to Reno, fuckin', Nevada. Jesus Christ, that place is some kind of heaven for the creepiest squares in existence. I am all in favor of excess but I mean the kind of excess represented by The Cramps or the kind of excess that leads to William Blake's palace of wisdom but Reno's excess is an extra jumbo large deluxe economy size can of spray cheeze food. It is an excess of bosco chocolaty flavored syrup mixed with vodka from a plastic bottle and served as a cocktail for people so hopelessly dull they imagine that they are jaded. <br /><br />People work hard and save their money so they can come to Reno and enjoy hideous, square fun which essentially involves squandering their pathetically diminished wages on shit that no one in their right mind would want if it was free. <br /><br />Fuckin' squares. I can't fuckin' stand them. Alright, that's a bit of an overstatement but I don't much like them and I don't share their enthusiasms. <br /><br />Which leads me to my conclusion, the synthesis of ideas originally introduced in my opening thesis. I will freely admit that, by local standards, I am not any sort of hippy. However, by the standards of much of my native land, America, the beautiful- And here I must point out that we were celebrating, communally, all of us gathered in Reno, the ascension to martyrdom of the only innocents every to die in an act of war. That highest of holy days. The date, that by it's mere invocation, acts as a license for the shittiest political behavior in the history of our short lived and soon doomed nation- by those standards which a certain class of fuckin' moron would call 'American', I am such a fukcin' hippy that people wretch at the excess of patchouli stink that wafts their way as I amble by missing Jerry. <br /><br />So Nazz, Rico, dude, you were there at the 2cnd tier regional magazine publisher's convention and awards dinner but I've got one question for you: ARE YOU GONNA BE THERE AT THE LOVE IN? I know I am. <br /><br />Now If you'll excuse me, I've gotta go tie dye everything I own. It really was fun driving over the mountains to meet you. Next time meet me in the fucking parking lot and I'll get you a little ways out of squaresville. You were, after all wallowing in marshmallows and polychlorinated biphenyls in the shadow of John Muir and Ansel Adams' "range of light". <br /><br />See you real soon.Your driverhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06406948739451124566noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8215493615229181701.post-11409063357812173242011-09-15T00:21:17.939-04:002011-09-15T00:21:17.939-04:00The minority report.
Comrade, our differences are...The minority report. <br />Comrade, our differences are slight but I did reach a somewhat different conclusion based on my own experiences in Reno. <br />My conclusion is that I am the worlds biggest fuckin' hippy. You know, I live in the heart of the hippy beast. You really can hear conversations here like, <br />"How you been man?"<br /><br />"Not so good man. I'm really missing Jerry, man." <br /><br />That's an actual conversation. <br /><br />Everyone here claims to be a Buddhist and everyone here meditates and they all own hacky sacks made from recycled organic hemp and they all go to Reggae on the River and catch hepatitis A and dysentery, just like the '60's. They all drive Volvo station wagons and I DRIVE A FUCKIN' VOLVO STATION WAGON. Let's call that clue number one. I live in a town where the McDonalds and the KFC went out of business because no one would be caught dead eating corporate food but they will sit in their Volvos for an hour in hopes of getting a parking spot at Whole Foods Market. Everyone here has opinions on farming and agribusiness. Everyone here also has opinions on wine. I didn't have an opinion on wine even when I drank but people really have opinions as to what would go well with a nice seitan, quinoa and arugula salad. <br /><br />Are you beginning to get a picture? Let's not consider the other, invisible everybody who bus tables, drive old Buicks, pick grapes and live 7 families in 7 rooms. See that's why I mostly dislike the local hippies. They are completely oblivious to the presence of a massive underclass that exists only to serve their phony Buddhist asses. <br /><br />Ok, so in my heart I am a Moslem. In my heart I am an American artist but at heart, when I'm home here in racist hippy liberalville, I am no fuckin' hippy. <br /><br />end part IYour driverhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06406948739451124566noreply@blogger.com