After the movie, Johnny Knoxville and Jeff Tremaine showed up to answer some questions...of course, 90% of the questions were about getting autographs or photos. Lame. Two kids bowed down to them. La-ame. There was one question about Knoxville's scars, and the answer was that he doesn't scar much, he just bruises, and he showed his leg which was solid black and blue. Plus, he nailed Tremaine in the nuts twice, and spent the whole Q&A with his hand protecting his crotch. Tremaine was cool, but Knoxville kept talking about how much drinking he needed to do and shit. It just came off as fake. The two studio suits standing against the wall didn't make it seem any more genuine. Don't get me wrong, I think he's a great stuntman, and well-suited for the type of acting he does, which I enjoy. And I respect the hell out of the shit he goes through to entertain. But his persona seemed forced and rock-starrish, and made me annoyed to have to sit through it.
Laura calls my dental friends "teeth people."
Tonight was the annual CDS New Dentist night. I saw my friend Sam, who I last saw at this thing a year ago. I keep meaning to get in touch and hang out with him and his wife Kelli (who is actually a closer friend to me than he is), but every time I'm up in their neighborhood it's usually too late to disturb a family with young children and stop by. I don't think I've been to their house since they had Marta and me over for my birthday dinner three years ago. (Marta got pissed at me and started kicking me under the table since she wanted to leave. Yeah, maybe I should've heeded that warning sign.) No one else from my dental class but me showed up tonight.
On my way home this afternoon, I noticed my right bike pedal was a llittle off as my foot was making circles with every revolution...When I got home I took a close look at it, and saw that it was stripping out of the crank shaft. I tried screwing it back in, but no, it was stripped a little. I got about 3.5 miles out of my 4-mile round-trip to downtown before the pedal fell off the bike. The bolt on the pedal looks fine, just the bolthole in the crankshaft is stripped smooth. So it looks like I'm gonna have to replace that. I think I busted it going over a pothole or something. I don't know. It didn't get fucked until north of Lake St, and Lake St. is a fucking mess for bicycles. So far since I got this bike two years ago, I've worn out 4 inner tubes, 2 tires, one bike helmet, one set of pedals, and a pair of brake pads. And I broke part of the handlebars last year when it fell off my porch. And now I've busted a crankshaft. Phew.
It looks like I've got a pretty busy Saturday shaping up: fix bike, get tix, meet Laura for a drink. And this weekend I'd like to get some real work done as well, which will be a nice (and welcome) change from the last few. By work I mean both zine stuff and school work.
Regarding the zine: I think I need to practice some layouts to get an idea of how much actual space will be available for text/art/whatever. Then I know how much I need to get written (by myself or others) before actually compiling/printing the damn thing.
Bill Maher talked about how stupid Americans can be in The Onion AV Club. And whose word do you trust? The IAEA or the people who told you Sadaam Hussein had WMD?
More from Mark Anderson:
Nowhere can the subjective and the objective get more confused than whilst cruising on what UK anarcho-popsters Chumbawamba have wittily described as "the Good Ship Lifestyle." Little different than child-star Shirley Temple's whimsical "Good Ship Lollipop," this ride promises us that revolution means you don't have to get your hands dirty: Just go shopping - or not, as the case may be - and it all magically works out! Ahh, if only this were so.
....
This is why the gradual devolution of a potentially revolutionary idea like anarchism into a form of subcultural "lifestylism" is so disheartening. In a way, it is here that the capitalist system finds its photo-negative, a dark mirroring of its own self-obsession. Somehow the Corporate Cool Machine has managed to trick thousands of would-be revolutionaries into believing that wearing lots of black clothing, decorating themselves with patches, piercings, and tattoos, while talking "militant" somehow threatens the system. How ludicrous!
