You know where you are?

So, yesterday I was surfing the internet and I came across a review of Chinese Democracy from the NewYork Times. The review essentially said that the album is lifeless, overthought, overwrought and ultimately way too long and way too dull. This is funny because the review in question was two full pages long and was so hellbent on making sure that we, the readers, understood that the reviewer was A) a competent writer B) An expert on Guns N Roses C) An expert on recording music and D) extremely bummed by the results of Axl’s 17 or whatever year opus, that he ended up writing the Chinese Democracy of reviews, in that it was lifeless, overthought, overwrought and ultimately way too long and too dull.
I realize that people in New York are really into meta- shit and doing stuff that seems stupid until you realize that in fact, dumb farm boy, it’s YOU that’s the stupid one (for example, have you seen any of those juxtapositions of shit and Jesus? It’s wild, man. Someone like, shits, right? Then they put Jesus into the shit somehow. You see what I’m talking about? Sounds dumb, but then you realize ‘DUDE! This guy’s totally pointing out that shit fetishism in America has reached this zealotry that approaches a religious paradigm! Jokes on me! I’m the fucking moron, not the guy taking dumps in an art gallery!) SO, I suppose it’s possible that this reviewer is a genius and he figured that the best way to distill just HOW impossible Chinese Democracy was to get through, was to write a review of it that was also a review of his review that somehow hit all the points of the review while simultaneously exemplifying them, but I doubt it. The guy’s a music journalist for the New York Times…That’s like being the American Ambassador to Monaco. It’s a completely pointless job that makes some dumb prick feel exceedingly important. And man, if you can find me a more inherently verbose combination than New York Times Music Journalist, I’d be pretty impressed. Um…how about coked up art critic lecturing a college Art History class at NYU? That could actually even be the same guy. Huh. Okay, so it’s settled: I’ve contributed to the entropic unraveling of our universe by further commenting on this already bloated area of dicourse, and for that I should be reprimanded.
You know how there are people out there that just bring out the best in you? Like, for example, I don’t know what it is, but I’m always at my peak of wittiness and funniness when I’m with my friend Matt. I don’t know if it’s just that HE’S really funny and it’s like that thing where a bunch of hot chicks go out and the one scud that’s hanging with them kind of just looks hot too because she’s surrounded by so much gourmet clam, or if it has something to do with his expectations of me and my willingness to meet said expectations, but yeah. It’s nice to be around people who bring out the best in you.
My friend Chris DJ’d last night, and I went for a while. Eventually, I had to pull an Irish goodbye, which is, as per my understanding, where you piss in a potted plant, tell the hostess to go fuck herself and shit your pants on the drunken car ride home (or when you just bail without saying anything to anyone…depending on how racist you are towards the irish) but he did a really good job. Great, in fact. Someone in there was making him the best DJ he could possibly be. I think it was Tullamore Dew. Okay, I have to go to work, which I’m dreading significantly more than usual.
Oh, the show was super fun and although the caviar wasn’t that-day fresh, the assholes they were served in more than made up for it. Okay, toodles.