10 August 2009

Lessons from the Toor: 'Pubes' Doesn't Mean 'Hair'

It's Latin for 'adult' --not as in 'adult entertainment' which is for teenagers and stunted manboys, but as in grown-up, having arrived through the Pubic Gates. Hmm, no, make that the Gates of Puberty.

But pubes (with both vowels long) is also the Latin word for both the groin area and all that hair that marks your passage through those Gates--yes, even the beard on our Bearded Leader, Beardy McBeardface. Do bears have beards?

Only boy bears in bars.

On the next Toor we tackle the question of why menstrual has men in it.

07 August 2009

05 August 2009

When You Ride With Us, You Ride With Destroyer!

So, here I am, writing this from the trunk of a Lincoln towncar. In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have stolen Inky Zeke's treasured Siamese, Teacup, sown on an extra head, and sold it to the circus freak show, but it was clearly begging for a life of adventure on the road, and who am I to deny a cat it's heart's desire. As so often happens when I find myself in this situation, bound hand and foot and supine in spilled transmission fluid in the trunk of some burly goon's boat of car, my mind wanders to Destroyer. More specifically, to the Destroyer covers album that we'll probably never have the opportunity to make. It makes me sad, even a bit weepy, thinking about all of those savory sibilant sounds seeping out the bearded mind of Bejar. Sounds so well formed, so perfect, well, they can induce a grown and trussed man to mist up a bit. (Of course, that could be the WD-40 I just accidentally spritzed in my eye).

But onward, to the point, people. And it's about Time. As in, time we don't got. As in, "hurry up please, it's time". As in, one partner in the cosmic fourth dimensional dance. You see, this very weekend, ASD will be going on a mini-TOOR!(sic) of the great Pacific Northwest. On Friday, Aug. 7th, we'll be playing a show with Planes Intersect at Mississippi Pizza in Portland, and on Saturday, Aug. 8th, we'll be playing a show with If Bears were Bees at Blue Moon in Seattle. But we're sad to announce that The Very Most will not be joining us, as previously planned, due to a family tragedy. Though we may be away, our thoughts will remain with them. And it makes me mindful of time, time we don't got, and how to use the time we do. And it's simple, and it's trite, but hold those that ya like, and goose those that ya don't, (even our enemies benefit from a little human contact).

And now I hear a key, turning in the lock. Perhaps Inky Zeke's found it in his voluminous heart to forgive me, or I'm about to get my cement shoe fitting. Either way, I don't regret a thing. That cat was pug-fucking-ugly anyway.

Take care.