( 11:57 PM )
Blogging For Dry People (now with more typos!)
Part I: Walking on Sunshine
On the news tonight I’ve seen the hell that has been thrust upon the south by hurricane Katrina, and right now the final few inches of rain are moving over my house here in upstate New York.
I can’t help thinking that it will take several years to rebuild some towns and cities and it will cost taxpayers billions of dollars, so at what point do thousands, if not millions of people abandon the southern coastline and move north? Not just away from annual hurricanes, but also twisters, droughts, and incredible hot heat and humidity. Plus, the bugs down there are freaking ridiculous.
In the hurricane aftermath society is starting to fall apart down there—the looting, the hoarding, and damn--people get ornery when their house is underwater, the car floated away, all your shit is ruined, and there’s no power so you can’t watch SportsCenter. Hell, just from sitting around in wet underwear--I’d be pretty crabby.
But I’m thankfully I'm not. I’m glad to be dry as bone as well as my basement. My house gutters are guttering and the street storm drains are draining. All occupants are accounted for and in for the night safe and sound. We've got drinking water and bathrooms at our disposal and we’ve got a working fridge with food. Cold beer and ice for mixers. I'm counting my blessings tonight and damn glad I live in the Northeast.
Part II: Iron Maiden vs. Hurricane Sharon
In other much less worthy news, if you haven’t heard by now--on the last night of the Ozzfest tour (8/20) during Iron Maiden’s set, Sharon Osbourne repeatedly cut the stage power and had roadies throw eggs at the band.
Osbourne was pissed off at Maiden singer Bruce Dickinson, who apparently took verbal potshots at Ozzy every night on stage during the tour. Instead of handling it professionally in some other manner, this was Sharon’s payback.
She made matters worse piping chants of “Ozzy! Ozzy!” through the loudspeakers before and during Maiden’s show, while also claiming that Iron Maiden shouldn’t bitch about the incident because they were being paid $185,000 a night. If Iron Maiden is making that much a concert then why aren’t they touring on their own?
You know, Ozzfest isn’t exactly the best concert experience ever offered. When the tour came to Darien Lake, NY, the short sets began at 8:00 am--who the hell can rock out before noon on a Thursday? Some people driving from Canada were shocked that promoters would actually start a rock concert that early—they figured 8:00 meant PM.
I would tend to agree. Can you imagine having to see Lemmy Kilminster in the daylight? Granted Motorhead wasn’t playing, but who wants to see a metal concerts start before sundown?
Regardless of Dickson’s remarks, it was wrong to fuck-up Maiden’s set. She’s lucky she didn’t start a riot—if I were there to see Maiden play and this bullshit went on I'd be pretty pissed-off.
If George Steinbrenner was furious with the Yankees, would he act like a child by cutting the stadium lights turning on the sprinklers during a game? No, of course not. Only a fucking lunatic would do such a thing. Like Sharon Osbourne.
Look, Sharon Osbourne is one piece of work. She’s damn smart and crafty as hell, and Ozzy is one lucky man to have her around. Without her, Ozzy might’ve been a dead footnote in music history decades ago.
Courtney Love could have learned a thing or two from her when she had a living husband. Still, hiding some dead fish in Maiden’s hotel rooms would have been more appropriate instead of ruining a concert thousands of fans paid to see.
Song of the Day:
“the man tries running his usual game but sweetback’s jones is so strong he wastes the hounds (yeah! yeah! and besides that will be coming back takin’ names & collecting dues” Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song ~ Melvin Van Peebles and Earth Wind & Fire
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( 10:26 AM )
The following handwritten letter was recently found on the grounds of McKinley Hall:
Dear Lisa,
I should probably tell you that I’ve been secretly coating my hamsters poop pellets with chocolate and calling them Reese’s Feces. Couldn’t tell huh? Sorry to hear about you getting your head stuck in the doors of a NYC subway, but I guess that was the last of your problems after that black market mud mask burned crop circles on your face, and then there’s that thing about you contracting hepatitis from eating infected street meat. What was his name anyway? The guy with the meat I mean. Damn girl, get your mind out of the gutter. Hey, my doctor thinks I’m the first female boxing narcoleptic suffering from bouts of chronic insomnia. I maybe don’t think I haven’t not slept for several days, I think.
Going out later with some fine Irish lads, Nic O’Tine and Oopsy McShitshispants,
Kristin
Song of the Day:
“Wildflowers” Connie Price & the Keystones 2004
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