Prodigal Drops By 7 October 1999

10:32 PM: I've been a very bad, bad boy, I know. But, see, they keep making me come in before noon...

Saw Super Furry Animals last night, this Welsh pop band that were super #1 A-OK. The main singer/guitarist was your classic tall skinny British type, with a completely impenetrable accent, but he sang way way WAY UP HERE at the top of his voice. It was very silly. But then, suddenly, the music would change direction 90 degrees in 6 dimensions. My favorite was when this kind of poppy, pleasant lovesong tune discovered that what it really wanted to be when it grew up was a massively loud, squeaky, quasi-Martian-Beatlesque-techno-tribal-stomp rhythm heavy drone that was holding everyone in place by sheer air pressure alone. Amazing. I have no idea what it was called, either. They had no CDs for sale, damn the luck. But I did get a new t-shirt, hey there's a switch.

Cool. That link goes to the official Super Furry site, which has blinking alien potatoes guarding it. You should see.

MUNI is back to incredibly, incredibly sucking. Today, six cars in the other direction over 20 minutes, while going our way went one out of service car, one two-car train that turned into another line Right Before Our Eyes!, and then two one-car trains packed to the lungs. Then the one I managed to squeeze into turned out to have defective brakes! We would crash to a dead stop from 20 miles an hour! Whee! and the driver came on and said, "That was the train doing that." Oh gosh no, we would never think of putting any responsibility on your shoulders, my good man. You just go back to your nap in there.

I do bite my thumb, sir, and I do bite it at thee.

Work continues to bite hard. I am thinking about joining the Peace Corps. That's not a joke, at least not deliberately. Though they might laugh. Or the UN or something like that. I have no attachments, my needs are few, I'm mostly oblivious to what I eat, I'm reasonably skilled, and I have a clue, which ought to be enough on its own to qualify me for most anything. I have no intention of ever really having a "career", whatever those are. Shudder. So why not go somewhere odd and be useful?

Just as long as I can get out of this country.

So yes, new Buffy, first Angel, yes'm. Some chick in the bar the other night was dissing it. "I just don't like it. I mean, please, she's supposed to be a cheerleader or something, right?" Feh. Mundanes.

The Buffster had a good start, although I wish she hadn't killed the blonde punky vampire chick with the odd hairdo. But a slayer must what a slayer must, one supposes. I liked that it dared to really spell out how clueless Buffy is when it comes to many aspects of the "real" world. She's spunky, but not that bright, our Buff. That's Willow's job, anyway, that and being so incredibly cute that it makes you want to bark and sit up.

I think it's too soon to tell with Angel. It could be good, it could get real samey. I hope it at least stays funny. "Are you still, you know - grrr?"

As a matter of fact, yes, I am. Or, as a famous person recently said,

"I'm really looking forward, as I get older and older, to being less and less nice. I mean it. That's really my agenda."
- Annette Bening in US magazine.

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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