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April 28, 2002 - Sunday
Would anyone like to go to Chicago with me some weekend during the summer to pass out zines? I e-mailed the treasurer of ASFAR the other day and asked if she'd like to get together for a zine distribution day. I'm getting a shipment in of fifty Oblivion's, and since she is responsible for publishing Youth Truth we should be pretty much stockpiled with all the youth rights literature we'll need.
Hopefully this time the Head and I will get along better. You see, Susan has a real live human head sitting on the book shelf in her guest bedroom. When I accompanied Alex on his road trip, I was forced to sleep in the Head's room. I found the thought of sleeping in a room with a human skull to be unnerving, so after staring at the Head for a good ten minutes, I struck this bargain:
Me: Alright Head, I hate you, and you hate me, but I'll be leaving soon so if we can both just get along for the night, I'll be gone in the morning.
Head: ...
Me: Then its agreed. Goodnight.
The Head and I had no further troubles, and the night passed without incident. However I am unsure as to its reaction should I be forced to intrude upon its territory again.
I'm fairly certain that Bryan has invoked the wrath of the animal kingdom upon my family and I when he killed a racoon Saturday. If you've ever watched 101 Dalmations, you'd know just what kind of extensive communications network our furry forest friends have.
Ever since my animal-hating brother pumped ten rounds into the tresspassing racoon, I have had six different animals attempt to commit suicide by running out in front of my car. Participants of this four legged Ji'had include a possum, skunk, cat, squirrel, and two racoons.
One of the racoon's was successful in hitting my car Saturday night when I was cruising outside Cissna Park with Andy. Thankfully I had slowed down and swerved far enough so that only my front passenger side tire hit the assassin. The car sustained no damage, but when we got out to find the perpetrator's corspe, all we could hear was voracious laughter from the woods of the still living racoon and all his drunk buddies having a good old time at our expense.
Today of course brought about my weekly miniature road trip with Andy and Art. Andy and I began at 1:30, but hung around in Watseka until 3:00 because Art was being a sissy and doing homework. Our first destination was Krisy's house where we searched for baked goods to serve as our breakfasts. Since Kristy hates her two cousins, she did not have any cookies available and we were forced to go to Burger Dong and pay $1.38 for three inch diameter fudge brownies. And no, they did not offer us vaseline when we paid.
We also discovered among our Watseka travels that cemeteries can be host to an enormous wealth of photographic backdrops. We stopped near the Civil War section of the GAR cemetery, and took a picture of me straddling the cannon.
Once we had found Art, we set course for the "historic" antique shops of downtown Rossville. On our way, we passed by another enormous cemetery somewhere in Vermillion County. There they had a tank, which I commandeered.
I've never noticed before - possibly because I've never really been in an antique shop - but the dusty aroma of decades worth of hoarded junk makes for a potent aphrodisiac. I just can't explain it, but the deeper I went into the shops' dank hallways, the more erotic the atmosphere. Try it yourself! Art and Andy said they didn't feel the same way, but I think they were just too embarassed to admit the impulse to grab the nearest Orphan Annie doll by it's pigtails and do something indecent.
After using up all the toilet paper in the men's room, (and probably melting the wallpaper in the process!), the little old lady running the shop kicked us out since it was past closing time. Personally I can't see how the antique industry in a town of around a thousand residents stays in business.
I probably counted nearly ten antique stores in a two block area, and in the three we visited, only one had customers besides us. One shop even offered free candy, and you know I didn't pass that up. How do ten antique stores with a total of two customers stay in business and have the financial power to give out free candy? I'm not sure, but I bet John McCain and the Head are behind it.
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