Sorry I’m late, folks. As an active blogger, I must take more responsibility for my tardiness. I know that you wait with baited breath. But see, I worry about my fellow bloggers. Those savvy enough can play spot-the-influence.

Where has Cindy been?

Cindy, is it healthy for me to point at a well-shat litter box, look my felines in the eyes, and yell, “BAD CATS!!!!”

????

If you’ve ever wondered who wrote those 6.99 grocery store impulse rack books BASED, that’s right readers, BASED on TV shows, wonder no more.
“A Writer’s Life”

Well, thank jesus. Finally, an accurate account.

So yes, due to comp tickets and a morbid curiosity, I arrived at Voodoo Fest around 6pm, thus missing 3/4th’s of the day’s entertainment. On the Papermate Pen/Bic Lighter/Ol’ Yeller Dog Food/Rolling Rock/Hydrox Cookies/Subway/Firestone/Sprite Aruba Jam Remix stage Cake were finishing up and Queens of the Stone Age were preparing to “rock” the adjoining Small Engine Repair Magazine/Kia Stormkicker/Sunny D/Mountain Dew Black Tar/Service Master/McSweeney’s/Buck Knife stage. Nothing struck me. The New York Dolls struck me as pathetic, ‘natch, though you gotta love their attempts at “shocking” the audience with androgynous behavior. Overrated then, sad now. Minus the fire and desert, NIN brought Burning Man into a minor league baseball stadium. I, like you, wore out Pretty Hate Machine on factory cassette. Mine through a four-speaker AC/Delco system that came standard with my 1987 Buick Century.

Should I do some live blogging? Ok, “City Confidential” is on in the background, it’s about Palm Beach, I’m about to take a shower, shave, retrieve my laundry from laundry room, try to start writing a Deerhoof discography and Fiery Furnaces “think piece,” both of which are due tonight to an unnamed magazine, work a job job for a few hours……

Lee Goldberg, I’M GOING TO TAKE YOU DOWN!!!! TURN YOU OUT!!!!