I was offered the opportunity to be a part of yesterday’s BOADRUM 9 in Troy NY, and turned it down…to remain on daddy duty.

Boredoms. 9 drummers. Me backstage with EYE.

Instead, it was blanched broccoli, Elmo diapers, repeated readings of The Little Island, and gauging how many inches I can actually pinch these days.

Cooley dispatched intermittent and rabid media files my way last night. Here are some of them:

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Cooley (and his companions Herb and Tanner) are planning to write all about it, so I’ll leave it to them to tell you how awesome and life-changing it was. I’ll just go pre-rinse some cloth diapers instead.

Relief awaits the patient … this has been made evident by the announcement yesterday of a new airline: HOOTERS AIR. Yes, chickenwings and orange satin shortyshorts have now taken to the air. Limited runs between Atlanta and Myrtle Beach, with connections to Newark on the way. Brings me back to the good old days when me and my frat brothers would hop a slow moving freight train behind McCormick Plaza and ride the 35 minutes down to Gary, Indiana, walk down 7th Avenue to the best fucking Hooters in the country, catty-corner from Demont’s Drive-Up Liquor & Gun Shop.

Shit. Worst thing is, you can never go back, man, you know? I couldn’t tell you where half of those guys are at now.

This is how I like it now, though. Drinking the coffee at the precipice of a despot-less world, sitting in front of a 21″ flat-screen in my underwear, scratching my soft gorilla chest until the phone rings. I take pictures of cornerstones and collect them in my filing cabinet under a folder entitled PROOF. And people never let me down because I don’t expect different from them … this makes it all the easier, I say.