On Dubya’s desperate attempt to get us all fucking killed

I have to interrupt the SXSW story, though I have many more people to gush over, to say something about where we are going. It’s not a pretty place. Someone asked me on the night of the speech [ultimatum, threat] what I think this all means, what I think will happen now that we [Cowboy George] have declared war [illegally] on Iraq. I think it will lead us to one place, or another, or possibly both. Since the administration [regime] has stated that the only way to win the war is to remove [eliminate, kill, post his head on a pike in front of the White House] Saddam Hussein, the war is essentially a house to house search [bombing] for the man and his sons that can in no practical way be done quickly, or avoid the destruction of the homes of the Iraqi people, regardless of how much the White House says [lies] that they are not the enemy. The first strike in Iraq was in fact on Saddam’s private home [likely stolen, but here I have no proof, mush like we have no actual proof of weapons of mass destruction, only “intelligence”] .

Second, I think [deeply fear and hope that I am wrong about this part] that the instances of terrorism in the United States will increase, whether Saddam is supporting them or not, because this will simply throw fuel onto the fire of a very small number of extremists who have perverted a beautiful religion and denegrated those who practice its teachings peacefully like sane, civilized human beings. I am afraid that terrorist cells will think they can hit us in small ways, that suddenly we, like every Isreali citizen, should be forced to wonder whether or not the pizza place we are eating in will be blown up at any moment by a shifty eyed fellow with a backpack on. Note to General [ReichMarshall] Ashcroft: While I appreciate new readers to my site, please do not think that I am in any way encouraging these raving lunatics to attempt such things. In fact, just the opposite. And, please don’t come and arrest me, as I am only exercising my Constitutional rights to free speech [which means I can say what I want, not that I can say what I want without having to pay for it]. In some ways I admire and respect the Isreali people for choosing to live in a nation that is essentially a large bullseye because of the strength of their religous and cultural identity. I however, do not choose to do so. I like a living in a place where cultural, religous, ethnic identity is mixed, crossed, blurred even, all in one big ole stew pot of diverse goodness, each of us surrounding each other with who we are, learning and growing from each other’s differences as well as our similarities. I also choose not to live in harm’s way. Now, Dubya has taken that choice away from me, from us all, declaring we will stand together [guns raised] to defend our nation [kill others] against an enemy that threatens us [shakes a limp wristed fist and whines a lot] with weapons of mass destruction [which are horrific and evil, I’ll give ya that one. Then again we have nukes, too, don’t we?].

My opinion thus fully voiced [not remotely done bitching about this yet], I will say that I whole-heartedly hope for the safety of all our soldiers in the Middle-East and around the world as they enter into this conflict. These brave men and women have taken on responsibility for the rest of us, and it’s not to be taken lightly, no matter how much one might object to the political objectives behind the orders that they are given. No one who chooses to risk their lives for others should be ridiculed, but instead supported as best they can be by the people at home. I sincerely hope for the safety of all of America’s sons and daughters, all of the World’s sons and daughters as we stumble forth into madness. Whatever God is, may it bless us all.

On SXSW, as best I can recall (as yet incomplete, but read away)

Strap in, this will be a long one………

It began on a quiet Friday afternoon, standing in line at Volunteer check in, where once again the system has managed to lose my badge…. no wait.

It began In January, at the first volunteer call, signing up to work the same crew with old friends and looking forward to new horizons…..no, that’s not it either.

I think it began in the womb, because I can not think of any thing that can fully recharge my soul like the people and music of SXSW, except maybe making spaghetti sauce. Or Pez.

Everyone shows up on Friday, some in big groups, some in harried rushes from the airport, all prepared to Break Bread with Brad. I had to hit and run, as it was not officially vacation time for me yet. I said hello to a few folks who really counted, marveled at the talent and intellect around me, and lamented a bit that I had to go to work and listen and deal with the banal while these gods of the night were tramping about in it, without me.

A few hours later, something magical happened. It was the first of many. These same gods, or devils as some cases later proved, appeared from the night, just to say hi. Most were not Piano bar types, and said their polite “Hi, but we gotta get somewhere that isn’t trying to blow up our heads like that cat in Scanners” Most, but not all, were gone as fast as they came, but the promise of things to come made the night fly by on dark but spirited wings.

Read more about it……

On John Wesley Harding

He’s five feet from me tuning his guitar. Sarah and I are totally geeking out, but trying to look like we’re not. He and Scott McCaughey are harmonizing, and it feels like the keys underneath my fingers are picking up the vibrations, doing excited little dances timed to the jackhammer thumping of my heart.

On the Music Panelist Greenroom

I am sitting in it. We’re on our first day of music panles, kind of a low key warm up for the big shindig tommorw through Saturday. Interactive ended yesterday, and all my old and new freinds have scattered their seperate ways with stories to tell about me. I have stories to tell about them, and they are coming, including the inception of Jump in the truck with Jeff that hopefully will now follow Break Bread with Brad, reports from the dugouts at Kick3, how hard I killed at Fray this year, leading to the monumental success of 20X2. Of course, the ultimate goal is to spend several days surrounding myself with smart creative people, laughing, learning and growing from them, and I hope my tales of their exploits due them all justice, because I love them all. So stay tuned.

(Also, this is my first post ever done on a Mac, the powerbook G4, and I am totally ready to make the switch, in only about 3 hours. I also finally realized how bad my site looks on Mac, so I promise to get it fixed.)

On the SXSW section of this blog

As I am not a designer or a tech nerd, the SXSW update section which was languishing since last year has now managed to get fucked into a cocked hat. Beats me.

On Getting to Know Me

You all should. I am a really fascinating guy. Here’s some stuff you need to know:

1) I like to list things about me that are fascinating. There are lots of them. I am extremely fascinating, and it helps to understand if you can see it in list form.

2) I often fascinate others. People occasionally just stop and stare at me. An Englishman stopped right in front of me the other day and said, in his typical poncy British accent, “Fascinating.”

3) British people are facinating, but slightly less fascinating than I am.

4) I can fascinate at the drop of a hat. Fascinate on a dime. I am quite speedy when fascinating people. Zero to fascinating in 2 seconds flat.

5) Being fascinating gets me a lot of dates. My social life is much more interesting and dramatic than yours. This is because I am simply fascinating.

6) Being fascinating also makes me a lot of money. I am so fascinatingly wealthy that I don’t know what to do with my money sometimes. However, this does not mean that I will send you some of my extra cash. I give it away to mostly fascinating charities, like the Austin Home for Wayward Scantily-clad Alcholic Women. After all, they need to sober up so that they can fully appreciate how fascinating I am.

7) I am much more fascinating than you are.

8) I like tacos.

9) I am fascinating to the French, the Germans, AND the Russians, which is difficult.

10) Children love me. It’s true. They run to me when I am in their presecence and dance about at my feet, laughing and singing songs. I fascinate them.

11) Kevin is awesome. I am fascinating. It’s a subtle but important difference. 20X2 is both awesome and fascinating because of us. Mostly me.

12) I am also awesome, but don’t tell Kevin. He gets down sometimes when he realizes that I am BOTH awesome and fascinating, but he is just awesome.

13) Ryan is rad, which is an outdated term, but he likes it. Ryan is neither awesome nor fascinating, but he’s ok with that.

14) I am also fascinating to animals. I know this because of our dog, Indie. She is fascinated by me. Then again, she is fascinated by ice.

15) If you repeat the same word often enough, over and over again, it begins to lose all meaning in your minds, and becomes difficult to understand. This phenomenon, like myself but to a much lesser extent, is fascinating.

16) Kevin and Ryan like tacos.

On Gettin’ Ready, ‘Cause it’s Comin’ at Ya Like a Ton a Bricks, Bitch.

Monday, March 10th is The Big Day. Haven’t checked out my new button below (because writer boy has been so deeply ensconsed in the bar biz that he quit writing, and you, my Gracious Reader got a little less Gracious and tuned out)? Well, What RU W8ing 4?

Can’t wait to meet this guy and his band, as he is my new role model.