December was the month that I played these songs and draped my house in tiny lead wires that lit up and used up all sorts of electricity and made my house look ridiculous when I would walk to or from it down the road at night drinking a double Earl Grey cup of tea with some creamline milk from the local-ish dairy that comes out of a glass bottle like it’s still 1942 up in this motherfucker. December was the month that I played these songs as we all ran around running up our debt and spending every last dollar that we didn’t really have on useless shit that’s probably already collecting dust or neglected or broken or outdated or forgotten or used up and thrown away. December was the month that I played these songs, these songs I will slowly countdown like I always do, in sporadic fashion, with weird little pictures thrown into each post at the top, because that has become what I do. This is a strange blog that has had what it does change eight or nine times over the course of it. But that is me. And this will be my soundtrack, from last month. Kind of.
For Christmas, I got some things, but the best was my oldest daughter crocheted me a giant stocking hat in Redskins colors, and the thing is seriously long enough I can pull it over my head down to my neck, which I do when I walk into banks, to scare everybody. Then I pull it up and go “I ain’t blind, man,” like Cheech does to Chong when he took the acid in the one good Cheech & Chong movie. You know what I mean. Of course, I actually am blind, not in a literal sense, if by literal you mean my eyeballs don’t see things. But I’m pretty fucking blind.
FIRST UP: That new type of world music that’s like muzak for Whole Foods!
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