No one asked me about it, but I had a near-brush with national news on Friday afternoon. This bold hate crime occurred one block away from the Westward Seafoods office where I work. Luckily my natural inclination towards laziness led me to split half an hour before my usual quitting time of 4:00pm, which is exactly when the would-be massacre took place. The whole area was shut down tight by police, and while I wouldn't have been in any immediate danger if I had left work on time, I would have been stuck downtown indefintely surrounded by frightened, confused crowds and nervous cops with guns drawn. Once again, being a slacker has saved me from a potentially inconvenient situation. As the great Merle Haggard says, I take a lot of pride in what I am.

TROUBLED MEN AND HUNGRY WOMEN

The End Times had another chaotic, wine-drunk practice session Sunday afternoon, this time with a girl piano player who had never heard the songs before. There's potential aplenty in all this confusion, but it's gonna take a while for me to cook it down into a smokable form. Still, I'm pleased with my new songs, Kate is picking up the words fast, and even if he can't play the damn thing yet, Tyson owns and operates a lap steel guitar and he's working out the kinks with great patience and dedication. I'm endlessly thankful for their continued interest in helping to spread my message of paranoia, despair and true love. With any luck we'll be making shambolic live appearances before small groups of uninterested people before the apocalypse takes us all by surprise.