WARNING: THIS ENTRY CONTAINS SOCIALIST PROPAGANDA

I was handing out Mayday fliers last night at a bar while pretentious teenage punks got their angst on. An older guy with a professional beer gut asked me if the literature was some kind of pinko communist propaganda. I said, “If you consider the eight hour work day to be a part of a pinko communist agenda, than yes, yes it is.”

Two beers later I found myself engaged in conversation with a drunk-groupie-in-frilly-blue-tank-top about the bus strike going on in the capital city. She’s all, “I’m totally for unions, but he-llo! Health care costs are going up everywhere in the U.S. They’re just going to have to deal with it like the rest of us.” I’m thinking, right on sister! We’re getting buggered up the ass, so they should be getting it too! What the hell makes their butts exempt from buggering?

I also met this thirty something named Tim. Tim was a crazy ass fan of the closing band. He was an interesting guy and I am a pretty open-minded person, but he seemed to walk ever so nimbly about the line between cool and creepy. That’s okay. I’m not afraid of a little tension. So we chatted it up before the show and when the band was finished warming up he was gone. I went out on the dance floor to shake my thang, when I suddenly felt someone squeeze my shoulder. It was Tim. He started to say, “I wish I had a gun,” imagine my butt clenched in terror, “so I could shoot out all these beer lights. It’s a much better show when it’s completely dark.” Whew! Are we cool Tim? We’re cool right?

I have come to the conclusion that going to bars alone equals fun. I knew someone who was going to be there, but I didn’t go with him. So now look at all the interesting people I met as a result! By the way, this person I knew, he's pretty significant. Let’s call him the "rock skipper" and refer to him as RS from here to forever and forever beyond. It had been eight months since I saw him last, and that’s why my nerves were shaking like pair of festive maracas, like a bag of dried chili peppers.