Cat fountain.

Okay, Folks, here we go!

First off, I’m doing a few more shows at The Trepany House here in LA at The Steve Allen Theater. The shows are tomorrow, 10/28, as well as 11/11 and 11/18. All Tuesdays. I won’t keep you out too late. They’ve all been sold out so grab tickets. They’re fun shows.

Well, in the continuing saga of Monkey and his bladder I went out and bought a fountain. I was told by some people that cats love to drink out of a fountain of running water. That it was their preferred way of drinking. Sure enough there are several models and brands of cat fountains to choose from. I, of course, had to get the ‘good’ one. I bought my cats a porcelain cat fountain that I assembled while the majority of men in this country were watching football. I’m proud of that. I have nothing against men who watch football but their attitudes towards us no-sports folk are actually much worse than our thoughts about them. We know that many of them are limited emotionally and intellectually and that we threaten them with our disinterest. As a man, I built the shit out of a cat fountain, played guitar, did some writing and reheated some Indian food. That is serious man shit. While men were watching monsters beat the shit out of each other for a ball and running the emotions that they are unable to access or express through the plays of a game that has nothing to do with them, I was sending big fat distorted blues riffs into the ether. I was fighting evil with my Gibson 335. Yeah, that’s right. A fucking Gibson 335. That is a man’s guitar. Fuck football. Let’s see fatty football guy get off the couch and push his feelings through some tubes out into the streets. You want to have a pissing match with me, football guy? My dick is so big it was annoying the neighbors but it was melodic so they didn’t complain.

Oh, yeah, so I’m not sure monkey likes the fountain. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with it exactly. We’ll see what happens.

Some of you may be familiar with the infamous censoring of Bill Hicks on Late Night with David Lettermen. On Monday I talk to the comic whose set was used to replace Hick’s on the actual broad cast. Bill Scheft tells me what happened from his side of the event. It is a side that has never really been talked about other than when Letterman had Hicks' mother on to apologize, which was pretty fucking great. I don’t know where you stand on Camper Van Beethoven or Cracker but I fucking love them both. David Lowery, the front man of those bands, talks to me and plays a song on Thursday. It’s a good week.


Boomer lives!