I'm naming the kid 'Albuquerque El Dorado'. Just SEE if I don't.

I have to make this quick, as tomorrow I am working a day shift (otherwise known as UNTHINKABLE HORROR) for Jared so that I might go enjoy the festivities that is Ween. 8:00 a.m., yo. What. The fuck. I honestly believe that the world should be turned off between the hours of 6 a.m. to noon. Still, I am imagining this to be a Great Adventure, full of action and romance and suspense and maybe a few ancient curses that bring mummies back to life, and of course monkeys with bows and arrows and jetpacks. If I think this way, the day will not turn out to be a giant bag of suck. Also it will help if I refrain from playing stupid internettery games til the sun comes up.

But Ween. Ah, Ween. Push th'little daisies, yo.

1. The new Hives CD (The Black & White Album) sounds exactly like the last Hives CD, which isn't altogether a bad thing, as The Hives specialize in straightforward garage rawk that makes one shake one's boot-ay like it ain't no thang.

2. The new Bran Van 3000 (Rose) has possibly three good songs on it. That's all. No, wait, make that two good songs.

3. The new Monster Magnet (4-Way Diablo) is, again, pretty much like the last few Monster Magnet releases, which, again, isn't a bad thing either, as there's always a place in this world for rock'n'roll based on sex, drugs, and monolithic demon-gods that eat planets and have sex with volcanoes; Jared had the gall to call them Goth, but then Jared won't listen to anything that was played on an instrument that uses electricity, because apparently that causes the music to lack any sort of authenticity. I think Jared's just afraid of rock and/or roll, and is afraid of allowing himself to have a good time, and should perhaps put a bit of meat on his bones before he blows away in the next windstorm.

Plus, Jared used to listen to Disturbed in high school, as though that band were anything but a steaming pile of feces.

I still love him, though, as I love all my wayward children that deserve clouts to the head.

Off to bed now. If you come bother me at work tomorrow, I might quite well just eat your eyes straight out of their sockets.