Yesterday, this struck me as one of the greatest sign juxtapositions ever:

There was no addendum to the last post, I was having technical difficulties that were beyond your control.

My Spiritual Advisor has pointed out to me that, in the event I should ever need to have my factory-installed parts removed, I can ask for bionic ones. (He’s also looking for someone who’d like to give his newly designed Neon Spleen a try, should you know anyone who’s interested).

It has come to my attention that some of you folks think the stories on this blog are made up, or at least exaggerated for comic effect. Hell no, boys and girls. A recent case in my point was our recently resurrected wedding announcement.

Here’s an article from the Baltimore City Paper, “Southern Culture Hits the Skids: Rednecks, White Panties, and Blue Ribbon Beer at Sleazefest ‘99” that will just have to serve as our eye-witness.

This makes for a suffocating abundance of bands. Each band, naturally enough, wants to stand out from the rest, and to enjoy itself. It’s where these two goals converge that the nudity and explosives—the spirit of Sleazefest—come in.

Just go read the whole article for yourself. Go on now. Git!

I don’t know that I believe in ghosts, but I do believe that I believe that any truly sensible estate planning should include making a list of people you plan to come back and haunt. Just in case.

My spiritual advisor, Roger, has been busy as a bee putting together the Blue Moon Art Festival. It opens on August 1st and runs until September 7th. The website has the hours and directions. I’m sure I have more to say about it but I’m on vacation.