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you ever hear a good racist joke? not a joke that our liberal narrow minded ideologies would ever allow us to laugh at, of course, but a good fucking joke that has a racist punch line? they can be hilarious. the joke’s exaggeration can be stated in a way that is brilliant, if not insensitive. in the wrong hands, a racist joke begs you to leap across the table and stab the prick in the eye with a fork for being such a dickless asshole. but in the hands of an artist, a racist joke can be poignant, astute, and, most importantly, hysterical. a good racist joke makes folks look at WHY it’s funny. that’s the truth. that’s what the intellectuals forget. a good racist joke in the hands of an artist will tell you more about the state of social relations in your historical moment than any graduate level seminar taught by professor uptight and the commie t.a.’s.

like this bumber sticker. i saw it on a jacked up v-8, redneck ford pickup truck sitting proudly in the parking lot of cheddar’s tonight:

fucking brilliant. if you want one, let me know, i’ll send one out. put them on your car. it’ll be ironic.

call me a warmonger, but i’d much rather have this jem stuck to the back of the escort than the inane drivel that is ‘visualize world peace’ or ‘coexist.’ at least the redneck is saying something tangible. and he may be right. probably not, but at least he’s not speaking in weak, philosophical abstractions. like a good racist joke, this bumper sticker takes our temperature right now and says, ‘hey! go fuck yourself!’ brings a tear to my eye … not that i’d want to carpool with the guy necessarily, but still, i’m a first amendment guy. let’s not split hairs here. it’s a big country.

cheddar’s, as my friend hooch informed me, is like a bennigans except it’s exactly like a tgi fridays except it’s really applebees. they do have $2.50 margaritas and surprisingly yummy chicken tenders. after three cheddar’s frozen margaritas i didn’t care i was in a parking lot in coppell, texas. the breeze was nice, and wilco’s ‘impossible germany’ got played on the house p.a. once. second time i heard that song today. is it a hit? i hope so …

look, the margarita has a mustache!

i discovered tonight that i can send photos to my email from my phone. did you know you could do that? you just put in the email address instead of the phone number. breakthrough. i never knew …

we got home from cheddars and went out to a vacant industrial park’s parking lot and watched the fireworks exploding over the wal-mart. the wal-mart sign is grainy in the lower left.

drank a few beers and watched a truly mediocre fireworks display. hopefully the folks at the lone star park horse racing track have a legitimate celebration in store for tomorrow’s festivities.

since i can now send photos from my phone, here’s a photo of gary louris from topanga days taken this may. for my midwestern friends:

when gary was leaving the back stage-free keg area of the main stage where we were all loitering around and getting drunk, i watched him walk away with his bag and two guitars. he headed up into the kiddie area with the giant inflatable jumping castle and the jungle gym. he looked lost. i ran up and said, ‘gary, you look lost.’ he said, ‘i am lost. i can’t remember where i parked.’ i said ‘you parked down there, you’re dicking around in the play area up here.’ midwesterners helping midwesterners. i felt like i helped him push his car out of a snow bank in the middle of an ice storm. nice guy. he’s a hero of mine. he made it and still chooses to live. plus, he’s a fucking genius.

here’s a phone photo of scott lekovish:

that’s a good looking man, right there.

i think i’m done. till tomorrow ..

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