Last night I asked Mike, one of our employees at the Purple Wave, if he’d ever heard of a book called What’s the Matter with Kansas?
He said, "No, but it must be thick."
I went to the Union last night to see Thomas Frank, the author, give a lecture. He makes a big assumption, both when he speaks and when he writes. He goes on and on talking about how liberals are the scourge of America and presumes that his audience will understand that he is quoting the conservative perspective. I looked around at the hilljacks in the audience and wondered if they actually understood his satire.
Where do I begin? We had some killer shows in Hays, arrested a guy for impersonating a police officer, played Lawrence and Topeka and Kansas City and Manhattan and hosed an amplifier since the last log. I had the time of my life playing with Blaine, Pete, Titts, and Russel in Emporia and had a good-for-the-soul experience getting paid pennies at Buster’s. I had an amp rack fall off the stack in the back of my truck and, because it was strapped on, fall back and leave a huge dent in the side of my bed. There was a coup d’état in Thailand, Ford and Intel fired a bunch of people, the crew of the shuttle lost some bolts — though I’ve done the same on a Massey Ferguson — the crock hunter died, someone messed with Texas in football, and the West Wing is getting better the second time around. Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip is going to be the shit-diggity. The band has a mascot, Mason has new drums, we have a monthly at Bobby T’s, we booked Thanksgiving at Buster’s.
We’re getting ready for Peace Treaty this weekend. Big show, little dough.
I am full of mirth. Don’t ever forget it.
