500 Moustaches per hour

One, maybe two more flights. That's about all that I have left in me. Yesterday I was just a big, mushy ball of downers and red wine stumbling like a drug mule whose bag has burst. I have fleeting memories of continuing my torturous plane movie watching. I'm pretty sure I described watching 'The Water Horse' to Lexi as being raped in the eyes for 80 minutes.
Could have been worse, I suppose.

I could have been flying on not one, but two airplanes that seemed to have narrowly survived a dogfight in WWII. My personal favorite was the industrial strength tape that was holding together most of the aircraft that was hurtling through the air at 500 miles per hour.

I had the image of a nerf football, missing a big chunk of foam out of it, flopping around in the air. Friendly skies my ass. Talk to the pomeranian that was sleeping upside-down at a 90-degree angle for nine hours.

But, tell me why? That's like saying don't drive the car, or don't eat the food. That's what they are there for, man.















Did you know that the best kept secret in rock and roll is not that U2's bass player is never plugged in and that he has someone under the stage playing for him, or that ozzy osbourne has a body double, or that Mick Jagger died in 1978? Nope, it's that dragons are real and they can play the guitar better than you.















I'm in Boston today, for a few days. We've got some radio show nonsense brewing here, but mostly l'm looking forward to seeing some old friends. They aren't peanuts, unfortunately.

So, I've been giving this some thought, mostly during drug-induced long haul flights, which should invalidate this discussion straight away, just bear with me. Most bands I travel with like to give false names at hotels so rabid fans don't try to break down their doors and steal their socks while they are sleeping. I think, just to keep things fresh, that I'm going to start giving it a go. Here's my list so far:

John Berryhorn
Larry Tarotcard
Jaques Biopsy
Pascal Quito
Cobra Salad

Any thoughts?
So, the other day Lexi sent me this .gif of a bird stealing a bag of chips from a store, and I've watched it maybe 700 times since then. It never gets old, and, in fact, is funnier each and every time that I see it.

Yesterday, not having access to my laptop on the flight, I felt a bit down not being able to laugh at that little guy every fifteen minutes or so. To kill the pain I bought a trashy UK celeb magazine that had some pretty choice photos. For the following 12 hours I only had to reach into my pocket and unfold a glossy photo of a dog peeing on Natalie Portman to make myself feel better.

Jet. Lag.