Increased visibility for safer traveling.
I'm a big fan of skunks. Jonny's groaning right now but it's all his fault anyway. First of all, they're very handsome animals. White contrasted with basic black? Top class. Also, they're a relaxed bunch. Not for them the hustle and bustle of modern life; no, sir. Skunks' top speeds are estimated at six miles an hour. They're confident blokes; they know that whatever they're headed toward will still be there however long it takes them. Once I saw a skunk step off the curb of Charlotte Street, into the middle of midday London traffic. Every car in each lane ground to a halt as the skunk passed in front of it. Now that's a hard animal. You can even get them as pets; don't look at me like that, I'm serious. There are lots of reputable skunk breeders out there. Of course, they have their spraying thing removed before they're sold to your home. For more information, you can contact the extremely helpful, if unfortunately acronymed, OOPS (Owners Of Pet Skunks) website.
Although I have to admit, I quite like the smell, at least from a distance. I used to abhor the idea of being in a moving vehicle. Stay in there, this is related. I still spend half the time I'm on the tour bus stretched out on one of the cots, moaning miserably. Although I'm sure someone's going to say that's more or less what I do on stage as well, ha ha mister, up the stairs with you. But for some reason over the last year or so, I got in the habit of getting in my car and driving around the neighborhood late at night. Daft thing to do, waiting until Noah's in bed and Rachel always looking at me like do we have to go through this every night? as I grab my coat. I always end up finding the most out-of-the-way streets to go down; I like to play music loudly, but I don't want to drive anyplace where I might get slammed into by an oncoming ambulance because I couldn't hear the siren for the Paul Oakenfold blasting out of the dash. And there's this one stretch on Longwall Street where at least every other night I drive right into a could of skunk aroma. I couldn't explain why it's pleasing to me; it's just such an honest, natural smell. It has a kind of clarity to it. I'm actually disappointed when it's not there.
Speaking of skunks, how about that American election. Haha. I watched a good deal of the Republican Convention coverage. There's a lot I could say; obviously it would be profoundly hilarious if it wasn't so foreboding. I've got no place to criticize; our head of state's every bit as much an empty suit. I guess the thing that makes me saddest is that people look at George Bush and genuinely see a leader that inspires trust. What kind of tortured thought processes must the average American have to reach that conclusion? I can only surmise that they must be very good at filtering out information that makes them uncomfortable. And once you start doing that, it's a skill that gets more and more practiced with time. Sooner or later, you get accustomed to darkness in your head. We've got them here too, millions of people running around operating by mental night-vision. And they don't seem any less disturbed by it than those of us who consider ourselves awake and aware.
When I was at university, we used to do this damn fool thing where we'd drive around on deserted roads and when we found one where there were no streetlamps, we'd kill the headlights and see how far we could drive in total darkness before losing our nerve. Foolish bloody nonsense, of course. But last night on Longwall with that sulphuric skunk smell in my nostrils, I decided to regress a bit. Just to see if it really was better in the darkness. I got about five feet before panicking and hitting the switch to bring them back up again, only to find I'd stopped a good two houses before the nearest intersection. I sighed and hit the gas.
I'll be attending a rally on the 25th at Fylingdales to protest the continued development of so-called "Star Wars" missile defense systems. Look here for more information. If anyone wants to stop by and say hello, feel free.
Although I have to admit, I quite like the smell, at least from a distance. I used to abhor the idea of being in a moving vehicle. Stay in there, this is related. I still spend half the time I'm on the tour bus stretched out on one of the cots, moaning miserably. Although I'm sure someone's going to say that's more or less what I do on stage as well, ha ha mister, up the stairs with you. But for some reason over the last year or so, I got in the habit of getting in my car and driving around the neighborhood late at night. Daft thing to do, waiting until Noah's in bed and Rachel always looking at me like do we have to go through this every night? as I grab my coat. I always end up finding the most out-of-the-way streets to go down; I like to play music loudly, but I don't want to drive anyplace where I might get slammed into by an oncoming ambulance because I couldn't hear the siren for the Paul Oakenfold blasting out of the dash. And there's this one stretch on Longwall Street where at least every other night I drive right into a could of skunk aroma. I couldn't explain why it's pleasing to me; it's just such an honest, natural smell. It has a kind of clarity to it. I'm actually disappointed when it's not there.
Speaking of skunks, how about that American election. Haha. I watched a good deal of the Republican Convention coverage. There's a lot I could say; obviously it would be profoundly hilarious if it wasn't so foreboding. I've got no place to criticize; our head of state's every bit as much an empty suit. I guess the thing that makes me saddest is that people look at George Bush and genuinely see a leader that inspires trust. What kind of tortured thought processes must the average American have to reach that conclusion? I can only surmise that they must be very good at filtering out information that makes them uncomfortable. And once you start doing that, it's a skill that gets more and more practiced with time. Sooner or later, you get accustomed to darkness in your head. We've got them here too, millions of people running around operating by mental night-vision. And they don't seem any less disturbed by it than those of us who consider ourselves awake and aware.
When I was at university, we used to do this damn fool thing where we'd drive around on deserted roads and when we found one where there were no streetlamps, we'd kill the headlights and see how far we could drive in total darkness before losing our nerve. Foolish bloody nonsense, of course. But last night on Longwall with that sulphuric skunk smell in my nostrils, I decided to regress a bit. Just to see if it really was better in the darkness. I got about five feet before panicking and hitting the switch to bring them back up again, only to find I'd stopped a good two houses before the nearest intersection. I sighed and hit the gas.
I'll be attending a rally on the 25th at Fylingdales to protest the continued development of so-called "Star Wars" missile defense systems. Look here for more information. If anyone wants to stop by and say hello, feel free.