Get out yer sunscreen...



It's been recently proven that the AIDS stricken, truck-stop hustler turned literary darling JT Leroy is, in fact, a fraud, perpetrated by Laura Albert, her husband Geoffrey Knoop and his half-sister, Savannah Knoop. Numerous literary giants, such as Dennis Cooper and Dave Eggers been swilling the Kool-aid about Leroy's writing for years now, touting it as some of the most visceral, insightful writing to come out in a while. And now the truth has come out that it's all a fucking sham, and always has been. Albert did the writing and phone interviews, her husband played a supporting role, and the half-sister did the public appearances in a wig and big sunglasses.



What disgusts me is this:

a) Someone was so self-involved, insecure, and pathetically ego-driven that they felt compelled to create a whole alternate person to shill for their other artistic endeavors (Albert and her husband make up the band Thistle, for which JT Leroy has 'written' lyrics). Ironically, Thistle hasn't been doing nearly as well as this fabrication did. But there are a multitude of gifted authors and musicians who deserve to have the kind of attention that this cunt and her alter-ego received.

b) It also makes me ill to hear people say how cool and Warholian it is to have been totally fucking lied to, or say that they don't care who the author really is, it's still some of the best writing they've ever read, or even that it isn't a hoax and Leroy is just protecting himself from criticism over his gender ambivalence.



How is it that people can be so resoundingly stupid? For the life of me I can't seem to wrap my head around the concept that people genuinely want to be separated from their money and cling to their illusions, no matter how asinine those illusions may be. How possibly happy can a person be that they have "CHUMP" tattooed on their foreheads?



We are heading towards the apocalypse...



but not quickly enough.

Umm....isn't that kind of like admitting that you kicked ass in the battle but in the war, you're fucked?

KIND OF LIKE SLAMMING THE BARN DOOR SHUT AFTER THE COW HAS ALREADY COME HOME DRUNK FROM PAINTING THE TOWN RED?

HEY ASSHOLE, IF IT WASN"T FOR YOU, WE WOULDN'T HAVE SO MUCH TO DESPAIR!



Fucking monkey.



Meanwhile, Bolivia has elected a Socialist.



I swear to GOD Kytty and I are moving to Ireland...or New Zealand, or something.

So, I'm working again. In a warehouse....again. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to be working again, and it's with something beer related which is even better, and I don't have to deal with the normal macho bullshit that I've gotten so accustomed to in the beer world, which is even better still. But I can't help form taking the long view; how can I take this job and make it a successful long term venture for me? Or, failing that, where should I devote my energy to achieving that end? You'd be surprised, it's a lot easier to start thinking about this when you're in the middle of a very repetitive task.

I'll figure it out though. The way things are going now, it shouldn't be very hard to figure out.



When it rains, it pours.

Something funny just happened. I was sitting, thinking, trying not to completely flip out and succumb to a total nervous breakdown. Feeling like I am in a hail storm I can neither stop nor get out of, I was attempting to figure out how to wrestle with my paralyzing fear and get through the next 33 days intact. Suddenly, a mosquito started pestering me; initial efforts to vanquish the little fucker went unrewarded, so I declared a jihad and stopped all other activity until, some minutes later, I finally crushed it.



There's an analogy in there somewhere, I just know it.

Kytty and I saw Tom Petty at the Greek Theatre last night. It was, in a word, superlative. He seems a most improbable rock star; if you were to pass him on the street, without really knowing who he was, you'd never guess that he could put on a show like we saw. He's not terribly attractive, his voice is a little odd, and he isn't exactly a virtuoso (he doesn't even play lead guitar). But he carries himself like he is descended from a long line of minstrels and troubadours that once played before royalty. His resonant songwriting, combined with his stage presence, created a performance to never be forgotten. It wasn't a complex show, but I know that he has achieved a level of simpilcity it takes a lifetime to reach. Simply, it was rock n' roll the way it was meant to be played.