What a hot damned summer it's been. Luckily, the ocean is about five minutes away by automobile. Beer on the beach is sweet like honey.
All kinds of stuff has been going on. The Olympics were pretty cool, despite the bitching ahead of time about algae in the lake and the pollution everywhere. And you have to give it to those Beijiners (or whatever you call them). The opening ceremonies were excellent. On the other hand, the closing ceremonies were weird. Nobody in that stadium knew who Jimmy Page was and his lame ass unplugged guitar solo was just too creepy.
Those chicks playing beach volleyball rocked too. Even the ugly girls from countries without vowels in their names looked good in those tightass little outfits with the sweat/sand mixture going on. You know what I'm talking about, dawg.
Then there's the political conventions. Ouch. I don't care which party you're affiliated with, their conventions suck a big donkey log. Talk about your mutual ass-kissing societies. Watching it is like watching gay porn - I know someone is enjoying the shit out of it, but it's making me very uncomfortable.
The other big news around here has been local townships wanting to do away with all of the bikers. I guess someone has had enough of that loud shit for a while. If you listen to people closely, you can hear the "it's really the black guys that ruin it for everyone" argument. Too bad.
On the literary front, I finally purchased a Celia Rivenbark classic, "Stop Dressing Your Six-Year Old Like A Skank." For those of you unfamiliar with Ms. Rivenbark's work, I would say she is on par with Lewis Grizzard. Unfortunately, there were too many references to the University of North Carolina for my taste, but we'll let her slide on that. After looking at her picture on the cover, I bet she's a lot hotter than she says in her book. I have found I now fantasize about her asking me to write the forward to her next piece of literary art. Seriously.
After much haggling, I finally went to Hard Rock Park. The place has like 10 rides, and of course, two of those weren't working. Good news, though, is that there are no lines. Bring a swimsuit in case you want to get soaked and listen to steel drum versions of Steely Dan and the Doors. A lot of people are wondering if the park will reopen next year. They could, but they've got to make some upgrades on the rides and lower the prices. Fried chicken or pizza for $10 is a little steep for a little honky like me.
So, between laying on the beach with a beer and watching TV, it's been crazy. And I've actually tracked down Willie B. Hardigan, who has agreed to come out of hiding and contribute to this blog. Ever since the Iranians put that fatwa (non-binding) on his head, he's been a bit skittish.