everyone wants your money. if it’s not the government taxing the crap out of you, its the panhandler on the street we encountered in Lancaster tonight using every lame panhandler story that i’ve heard about 6 billion times: i’m for real; here’s my birth certificate, i am who i say i am; the cops inpounded my car; all the white people in the movie theatre i was just at looked at me suspiciously; i’m a christian – are you?; i’m a poet – listen to one of my poems – it’s copyrighted along with 16 others; the cops put me in jail today and spit at my feet; and my favorite “i’m just tryin’ to get home.” ugh. as i reached for the dollar and 55 cents in my pocket i pulled my hand back out and said to myself “i will not be scammed again”, and i wasn’t.
edit from yesterday: i chose the wrong lyrics from the new local h song, more fitting ones are: we’re all sick and tired of california songs. i have no idea where yellowcard is from but they are the 100% epitome of everything i hate about music. i want to find that lead singer and that lame violin player and poke out their eardrums with extra long q-tips – or force them to listen to their own music. i can’t decide which would be more gratifying; although they probably don’t think they suck, so q-tips it is.
coming soon: a list of bands that really suck along with a list of bands that are actually good.