Back to the Motor League

Another day, another trip to the Big Apple. This time, however, the objective is leisure…well, if you can really get away with calling high-energy thrash punk “leisure.” The following is my Captain’s Log, as originally posted on Twitter.

March, 12th
12:43 pm

Familiar territory: lack of sleep on I-80 E. Aw yeah. NYC twice in one week. Propagandhi & Paint It Black tonight at the Highline Ballroom!

1:20 pm
Holland Tunnel?? Shit, we gotta piss!

3:02 pm
An Arabic man just saw my dick in Brooklyn. A fine moment in public urination.

5:14 pm
Gotta plug my favorite coffee shop in Manhattan: Fika on 41 W 58th St. It’s fancy, so cross your legs & sip that latte with your pinky up.

5:36 pm
Clogged a toilet at the 5th Ave Apple store with this bad girl…

8:18 pm
If Amanda Blaine doesn’t hurry up and wipe her ass at Asian Bistro, we’re gonna miss the concert.

8:23 pm
Follow-up on Amanda Blaine’s shitting habits: she clogged the Asian Bistro! We’re takin’ over this two-bit town one toilet at a time!

9:38 pm
A stage dive from a large-bodied man bent my pinky back during Paint It Black’s 1st song. Retaliation against my last 8 Bella Morte shows? Karma? Ouch.

10:32 pm
Up front for Propagandhi. Things are “aboot” to get real hairy…

March 13th
12:56 am

Paint It Black were intense. Propagandhi, fucking amazing. They played “Hallie Sallasse, Up Your Ass” & “Anti-Manifesto”?? No way, dude…

1:07 am
Sharing an air mattress with Yetti in Brooklyn. He’s snoring. If he gets any louder, I’m gonna shove four dry fingers up his ass.

10:54 am
10:54 am and I’m still on this air mattress. A good night’s sleep for once? I owe it all to Yetti’s rythmic snoring. Coffee mission!

12:37 pm
Killing two birds with one bathroom.

5:22 pm
“Tourist attraction of the day”
“Hate: Manhattan style”

Yep, that’s true poo.

11:26 pm
I take it back…THIS is the tourist attraction of the day…no, of ALL TIME.

“Man bursts into flames and dies while riding bicycling on NY’s Long Island…”

March 14th
1:48 am

On our way back to Horseheads. We’ve been lost for an hour in North Jersey–the armpit, butthole & syphilis ridden crotch of the East coast.

6:23 am
I’m home. Less than 3 hours before work. Work for 13 hours. I dream of coffee.

This was the most satisfying show I’ve attended in years. It’s a good thing too, because I chose this l’il event over a Morrissey concert. Furthermore, I’ve been meaning to read Hegemony or Survival for awhile now–and something about those angry Canucks inspired me to begin reading it mere hours after they walked off stage.

Check out Propagandhi’s new album, Supporting Caste…it’s a doozie!


SWM seeks thickening agent for pee

When I was a boy, the sound of Doug Craven’s pee stream was epic. It was loud, powerful, intimidating. It sent shivers down my spine–not to mention light splashes against my face as I tried peaking over the bowl to see what all the commotion was.

I couldn’t wait for the bathroom to shake with the impact of my golden thunder.

Now, here I am at the tender age of 27, with a cock bigger than two Christmas hams, and–though my stream has respectable width and passes at a considerable rate–the consistency of the pee itself is a bit light-bodied for my taste…it’s just too thin to make the splash I’d hoped for by this point in my life.

I’ve increased the amount of pectin, arrowroot and carrageenan in my diet, which has aided in giving my urine a velvety smooth texture…but not the rich, thick density that I’m really hoping to spank the toilet water with. I guess what I’m looking for is something to augment the viscosity of my pee without sacrificing its astringency.

I’m open to suggestions. I just want results, and I want them now. When I piss, my neighbor needs to hear it over his snowblower. The guy at the urinal next to me needs to know that my stream could cut him in half. Most importantly, without needing to press his ear against the bathroom door, Doug Craven needs to know his baby boy has grown up a man.

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I’m starting a new holiday to be celebrated on a bi-weekly basis. Don’t flush the toilet. At all. Especially if you poo’d. Even in your own bathroom. Push the burden of jigglin’ that little silver handle onto someone else. You deserve the rest.