When I Die...

...mount a cannon at home plate of Camden Yards and fire my body over the Esskay "Out-of-Town" scoreboard and onto Eutaw Street. You can even dress me up like The Bird, or maybe a big baseball, and if the money's alright, I hope someone ponies up for a big enough bang to make me the first man to truly hit the warehouse. (Fuck you Griffey.) And as I course through the air, gracefully arcing over the flag court and through the smoke rising from Boog's, I want Jim Hunter mournfully intoning over the PA - "See. You. Later."

I came across two interesting articles on cnn.com about this prolonged root canal of nomination process the Dems are caught up in; the first delineates the differences between the pedigrees of the Clinton and Obama camps , while the second is about a few discussions happening behind the scenes on what it will take for Hillary to exit the race with "honor."

Basically, whats happening with Obama is like a coup within the Democratic party, as the Clinton insiders who have controlled the party for the last 17 years are being shoved out of the way by dudes groomed by Daschle and Gephardt. It really seems to be being sticking in Bill's craw, especially since he's spent the eight years since he left office setting his family up to be the new Kennedys, even going so far as to kiss his old nemesis, George H.W. Bush's ass. That's why he's on T.V. every other day, red in the face, veins bulging from his neck, spouting some half-thought-out nonsense that has been carrying a creepy, ominous undertone to it as of late. I can understand his anger - when people that owe their entire careers to them (i.e. - Bill Richardson) are jumping on the winning bandwagon and leaving the Clintons alone in the settling dust, its as much - if not more - a slap to his face as it is hers. Bill just simply can't fucking take it anymore, and he is definitely ensconced in the "shitting blood" level of angry.

As to the second article - leaving aside the negotiations over how much of her $30 fucking million dollars of debt that she wants Obama to cover before she bails - I don't believe for a second that Obama would seriously offer Hillary the VP nod, unless he is secretly a complete fucking retard. No matter how this breaks, she's going to spend the next four years trying to sabotage every move he makes so that she's in the discussion for 2012 - why give her a great shooting platform? And all this party unity stuff is a little far-fetched - why should he be the one to bear the brunt of the discord and disharmony that Clinton has spent a year of her life working to build? When this race could have been about issues, she made it as damaging and divisive as possible, probably due to the fact that if she had to explain her voting record over the past five years, she'd be losing even worse than she is now. I mean, she's the one who wouldn't let the Rev. Wright shit drop; she's one the who raised the issue of his attending a mandrassa when he was a child; she threatened to give all the juicy details of his past drug use to the press before he made it a non-issue by admitting it himself, like the adult she'll never be; she even drew attention to him not wearing a fucking flag pin! Now, she casts him as "unpatriotic" because he's sticking by the rules they BOTH agreed to with regards to the Michigan and Florida primaries, while she played dirty and is now trying to have those results admitted clean. She has done everything she can to ruin and defame him all in the name of politics, and party unity was a sacrifical lamb that she led to slaughter as soon as it became convienient. Now that she's got everyone foaming at the mouth, it's Obama's responsibility to bend over and take one for the team? Fuck that. She's the one who needs to make amends, and she can start by stepping up to the dais tomorrow - Memorial Day - and saying:

"I realize I've been a craven, power-hungry piece of shit in a power suit for the last year, and most of you have seen enough of me to last you a lifetime. I can't blame you - not only have I embarassed myself and my family (well, at least Chelsea), but I've actively tried to reduce the American political process to the level of a playground pissing match between incontinent seven-year-olds. Thankfully for all of us, you - the American people - have seen through me and have correctly identified me as the scheming, shit-eating low-life that I am, and all but the least educated among you have turned away from me in droves. This is good for America! In recognition of this fact, and as an acknowledgement of my true idenity as The Succubus sent here to destroy all hope that America might once again assume the mantle of 'civilized nation' where industrialized countries are concerned, I hereby announce plans to drown myself in sewage this evening while humming 'I'm Every Woman,' until the bitter, noxious end.

And following the suggestion of a creative supporter, I would henceforth like a cannon to be mounted at homeplate of Oriole Park at Camden Yards..."

Notes

Only three days left of tour. I am in fine shape and spirit aside from a pesky swollen tonsil and the requisite scrapes and bruises that always litter my hands by this point in any trip. We're in Chicago at our friend Sara's place and Zach and I are waiting on a pizza we ordered 45 minutes ago, which has long since lost any appeal, probably due to our discovery of a list of restaurant reviews that repeatedly described the fare of this particular joint as "vomit worthy." Billy and Sara are asleep in the living room, Rod's sleeping in the "art" room, and Zalamia is snoring so hard in Sara's bedroom down the hall that even with the door closed we have to talk over his racket. It sounds like he's either making an ice carving via chainsaw, or making margaritas on super-slow pulse. Its fucking savage.

This tour has been awesome - maybe my favorite one yet. The turnouts have been good, the other bands fun as hell, and the late-night hi-jinks pretty fucking stellar to boot. I don't want to be home, but I could sure as hell use two or three days spent high as hell watching baseball. Then I'll be good for another month.

Tomorrow Louisville, then Charlottesville on Friday. At least the latter drive will be scenic, as we cross the Blue Ridge south of Charleston, WV. Tomorrow is just five more hours of boring Indiana flat-land. I swear to Christ that state is the biggest piece of shit on the continent. That or Ohio.

Pizza just got here and was promptly downed. Capsule review - passable sauce, non-descript cheese, absolutely god-fucking-awful crust that we agreed could best be described as "hardtack." Its like Civil War pizza.

I need to go crawl into bed with Z., and give him the old "please fucking stop snoring" kick in the ass thats become routine this tour. My two going-to-sleep choices - The Louvin Brothers' "The Family Who Prays" and "Nilsson Sings Newman."

Over and out..