This is the greatest time of the year

Even though it hasn't quite got that autumnal bite in the air (Al Gore, stop doing TV cameos where you get to be all cute in jumpsuits and get back to work! I have scarves that are just laying around doing nothing right now thanks to you) this is quite clearly the best season of all.

Plus, it's the time of Harvest. And that means celebration rites of plenty and richness. Thanks in part to Cucurbita Maxima, or as the plebeians say, SQUASH!

Which means Pumpkins.

Which means Pie.

Pie.

I make it.

You eat it.

BANG.

I like to imagine that enjoying one of my pies is something like this.


You're hanging out, wearing some sexy preHalloween get-up and then WHAP out of nowhere, some freak in a cape slaps pie into your open trap. Enjoy the pie.
And shut up while you're at it! Put on some Charlie Parker, be cool, and just shut up.

I love fall.
And Legs & Co.

Favorite Bands

Why when people ask you what kind of music you like, do you scramble to think of the most obscure band you can think of and probably classical, rather than the Celine Dion album that's been on repeat in your car since 2004?
Confession...? Anyone?

For Your Consideration

There are times in one's life where the meaning is blurry. Where the point of the whole darn thing seems to have waned and an eternal night has descended upon your very being.

Then, you have a moment of clarity, usually brought about by the state of building-jumping depression, and remember who you truly are. Who the little heart of gold hero who lives within your soul really is -- and what he can really do...not just for you, but for the world.
And for me, it's this dandy gentleman.



Basically, my inner hero is a ball of pink sugar, a jazzy hepcat with a Liberace streak. A man who lives life hard and fast with his brilliant band of junkie musicians. A man who will be the first to call himself "cool as a cucumber" while obviously being wonked out of his brain on gin during a performance for children that frankly wreaks of wanton sexuality.


Amen.

UPDATE: Sadly, youtube has disabled embedding on the video, but here is the link. Cotton Candy Culprit

TGIT

Tonight is the kind of night where you are hanging out with some red wine, or maybe watermelon lemonade (trademark: King of Drinks) and then someone just moseys on over and reminds you that something you "borrowed" three years ago is now needed once again to be in their possession immediately, and you're like Well I'm kind of loosened up right now, and it's friggin Thursday, so maybe this can wait 'til a more apropos time?

But oh no, they need it pronto. They're a busy guy, all right? They've got to update their Twitter in a few minutes here.

So you go check your garage (drink in hand. it's Thursday, after all) and you realize you don't have their stupid hedge trimmers and you know what? You would NEVER borrow hedge trimmers. Those hedge trimmers are no where near your person. So step off.

Why do people not respect Thursday? Check yourself.

My advice is, whatever you're drinking, if your homeboy tries to come by to collect something on a Thursday when it's 74 degrees and after 6 p.m., pretend whatever is in your glass is an Irish Car Bomb and you're ready to get something like "buckwild" and bust out your jazz fusion collection. They'll figure out pretty quick they don't want to stay long.