Buying powdered water and not knowing what to add to it. Other than that, all things creative, except interpretive dance sessions of minor Patrick Swayze films: I'll leave that to all those freaks in Portland. However, do call me up next time you mime-perform Patrick Swayze's Roadhouse, Oregon Mime Troupe Local 357! And I've never told you this, friends, but I wept when I saw your stage production of Point Break. Traveling perhaps gives me the biggest and most enduring jollies right now: I love heading into the Great Unknown Unknowable. Been blessed with great travel opportunities the last couple of years: Europe, Costa Rica with and without the boys McSalas and Sloshko and big bro Wendell-nuts, Canada like a mofo and Thailand up the kazoo. Looking to do much more, and I plan on camping in you or a member of your family's back yard soon, so don't worry if you see me in a sleeping bag underneath their porch. Next, I enjoy the standards: biking, snowboarding, playing monster fuckin' riffs on the geetar, and that's really about the end of my interests. When it comes to interests, I find economy works best. Oh yeah, and my friend John and I are in the process of constructing a new mystical tradition appropriate to our day and age: after we perfect our techniques, you will have the spiritual tools to mind-meld with Lucky the Leprechaun and Chuck Norris's Total Gym, not to mention old whats-his-satchel from the Quaker Oats commercials. Fuckin' poor dude has diabetes!
People who, like myself, have recently purchased powdered water and don't know what to add to it. Also, those who buy batteries, but find that batteries aren't included. And heck, why not take a few risks? If you've recently bought a garage door opener that only opens and does not close, why not contact me? It may be magic in the making. And if you're the type of guy or gal who writes down the noises babies make so that years later when they grow up you can ask them what they were trying to say, I'd like to hear from you as well. Further kinds of people who should contact me: if you are an avid enthusiast of collecting rare photographs of Norman Rockwell beating up children, or women who like cross-country skiing but only if it's in a small country...
All music is good wherein the drummer only has one arm, a la Def Lepperd. Some music, about half of it, is good wherein the drummer has no legs. And still less music, about 1/8 of it, is good wherein the drummer has neither arms nor legs. And there is only one band that is good wherein the drummer has no torso and is only a head with a stick held between his teeth. But specifically, in Jazz only Avant Garde Funk Fusion will do, friends. Mahavishnu Orchestra ranks high on my list. Still others find a place in my heart: Coltrane, Zorn, Hancock, Tatum, Medeski, Martin, Wood, Cobham, Frizell, and so on. In Funk, James Brown, Funkadelic, Bootsy Collins, Kool & the Gang, the Meters, etcetera--all these are Funk Gods. In metal, Sepultura and Slayer--nobody praises Satan like those fellows! In New Age, Yanni's Live at the Acropolis rocks your fucking sucks off. Ice Cube when he keeps it gangsta, of course, but he so rarely keeps it gangsta these days...sigh. But forget all this. Just visit www.KEXP.org if listening to the greatest radio station in the history of the world be your fancy: commercial free, listener-powered radio, all day, every day. Microsoft's Paul Allen got behind it. Won't you?
Try these on for size: Evil Dead parts One through Three. Or anything with zombies getting shot through the head by heroic survivors of the post-apocalyptic world. Powaquatsi, Koyanasquatsi, and Naqoyquatsi--all of them utterly pronouncable with practice. City of God. Giddy of Sod. Leprechaun IV: In the Hood. The Warriors. Lone Wolf McQuade starring Chuck-fucking-Norris, who when he does push-ups is actually pushing the Earth down. Missing in Action Part III: Chuck Norris Throws a Grenade and Everybody Goes Flying Through the Fuckin' Air. And of course, Ghostbusters II, which I have never seen but assume is fantastic because, after all, it's part of the Ghostbusters franchise. Remember the giant Stay Puft Marshmallow Man? Ha ha, and when they shot him with the ecto-blasters he exploded and there was hot marshmallow everywhere? Ha ha, that was cinematic fucking gold. And remember Rick Moranis was in it, and the Ghostbusters drove around in a converted hearse? Ha ha, that was so fucking funny! And remember when Bill Murry got ectoplasm all over him, and he said "He slimed me!" Remember how fucking hard we all laughed? Remember how one of the ghost busters was black and we were so proud to learn about the racial integration of the ghost-busting industry? Whatever happened to that one dude with the glasses? His career totally tanked. I can't wait until they make part three. Oh yeah, and as McSalas reminded me, Starship effin' Troopers. Man, they don't make 'em like that any more. I think the sequel was found after it dropped out of a bull's ass, however. Starship Troopers yesterday, Starship Troopers today, Starship Troopers tomorrow, Starship Troopers forever!
How about Penn & Teller's Bullshit!?. One watches it and enjoys doing so. The Daily Show is viewed by me. Charlie Rose is hilarious interviewing of influential people at its best. Curb Your Enthusiasm is considered by myself to be a gas. Family Guy is good for one who wants to experience laffs. The History Channel teaches us about things that once happened. NOVA is our window into the workings of the physical universe, don't you agree? The religious channels provide me endless hours of wonder, especially Steve and Wendy Treat, local Seattle celebrities and authors of Great Sex: Heaven's Gift to Husbands and Wives, and Great Sex Part II: More of Heaven's Gifts to Husbands and Wives in 3-D, and lastly, Straight Talk from Steve and Wendy Treat About Heaven's Gift of Male Multiple Orgasms. Dave Chappelle causes one to undergo comic relief. Last Call with Carson Daly is the worst show on Earth, and therefore a joy to watch. Please won't you tune in some time in the near future? And I seriously watch a lot of C-Span, I'm not even kidding. There's nothing like cracking open a good micro-brew, kicking your feet up, watching endless hours of C-Span, and wondering if constant solitude has finally driven you over the cliff-edge of insanity. Try it some time!
Moby Dick, and I don't mean the porn. The answer to every question you've ever had is in this book, and no red-blooded American should go without reading it at least twice, then the wealth of supplementary material about it. May I recommend Moby Dick: An American Nekyia, Regeneration Through Violence, and Contemporary Essays on Moby Dick. The best part of all this is that I'm serious. Clest if Gravity's Rainbow doesn't rock your fucking socks off. It's by Thomas Pynchon goddammit. He's a recluse!
The only person I've ever looked up to is that guy who tried to assasinate King Louis the XII in France 300 years ago. He broke through his line of guards and tried to stab him to death. He failed. First they flayed his skin with red hot pincers, then they stabbed his eyes out. Then they poured boiling hot tar all over his hands and genitalia. Then they tied him to four horses and had him drawn and quartered, but that only seperated his ligaments and ripped his joints out of socket. So the executioners had to untie him, hack away at his limbs to loosen them up for awhile, refasten him to the horses and crack their hinds with whips yet again. This time the guy was pulled apart, but witnesses at the time claim he was still alive! If you want to read about it for yourself, pick up a copy of Foucalt's Discipline and Punishment next time you visit your local bookstore. And never, ever, ever, take the Enlightenment and the Bill of Rights and the Founding Fathers for granted ever, ever, ever again!