Tidbits

THIS MONTH’S TIDBITS WERE 100% WRITTEN BY SOMEONE THAT WAS DRUNK ON CICLÓN

People will fucking stab you in the back. People you think are “nice” will kill you. You know who’s going to be there when the shit hits the fan? I’ll tell you who: the assholes, the Archie Bunkers. If you started killing fags and blacks right now, if the state deemed it so, if it was a fucking law to kill every minority in the land, guess who’d be there to stop them: the hard-ass dickheads. Archie Bunker. That’s right. He’d just say to himself, “Aw, shit,” (he wouldn’t like it because he didn’t start it so it wouldn’t be a passionate fight like when we kicked King George’s ass) and roll up his sleeves and get in there and kill the people that were killing the people. All the pussy-ass PC people, the ones who pretend they care? They’d fucking run away. They’d say, “Oooh, this is wrong, waaaah,” and they’d run away crying. The best you could hope for is that they’d document it and bring it before a jury at the UN or something in 20 years.

Guys today have no ethics. When I was a boy, my parents bought me a bed. They were cheap, but if it was something important like education or sleep they’d spend the money. I put it together in the basement even though my father told me not to and I did it without instructions (he hates that, but it’s a generational thing. Back in his day instructions were a page. Now they write you a fucking book. I have a whole section in my bookcase devoted to my TV and my stereo). He told me not to set up the bed down there because I had a perfectly good room upstairs, but I thought it was “punk” to be in the basement. Anyway, I saw him come storming down the stairs in his suit (it was 6:30) and I had the nerve to say, “Can you believe this thing didn’t come with instructions?” (He was holding the instructions in his hand.) He threw me across the basement. I was in the air for a while. This was 12 years ago and I still remember what I was thinking as I flew through the air. I was thinking, Hey, you can’t fuck with people. It pisses people off when you fuck with them.

Where are the other fucking fathers? What are they, moms? Look at John What’shisname—the American Taliban guy. His dad sent him to a bunch of new-age schools and bought him sweaters and probably fucking gossiped with him.

It’s hard to type when you’re drunk. I’ve had to retype almost every word. They should do that to secretaries if they’re drunk-driving. Give them a keyboard and say, “Type this: a man, a plan, a canal, Panama,” They’d be like, “anman ahaokplan a caajl Paman.” That’s the longest palindrome in the world.

This is like that Strokes interview.

So yeah, the Tidbits: 1. The Streets. Great album. We’re putting it out. It’s like The Specials’ debut in that it sounds like a greatest-hits album. 2. I was going to make some joke about slags and how, when they hit you, it’s so tasty you want to make a drink out of it—something like that. 3. This is some breakdancing toy somebody sent us. I’m too old for that shit. I remember we used to make tiny skateboards when we were in high school. Peter McCarthy even made a mini halfpipe. 4. I was going to do this big thing about all the cool shit we get in the mail. It’s amazing all the stuff we get. I forget what I was going to say, but look at the picture. That’s good stuff.

5. I was going to do some joke about a girl who female-ejaculates.

6. This is a fucking $100 butt plug. 7. The Pip and Norton book. Dave is going to be mad at me for getting drunk and fucking this up. It’s a VICE Comics book and it’s got the whole Barbra Streisand story. That’s a good one. We were pitching it as a cartoon once and talking about censorship and I caught myself saying, “I don’t mind not saying ‘fuck’ but there’s no way I’m going to stop shooting old ladies in the stomach.” Then we laughed about hearing that out of context (like now). 7. No, not 7, 8. Self-explanatory. The Japanese are different than us. 9. This is in me right now. It tastes kind of like a shot but you can sip it. Like a flaming Sambuca meets whiskey or something.

Good night.

(My friend Mike Bannis once said that and threw a chair and went to bed and never knew that he hit our friend Betty in the face and we had to go to the hospital. The doctor said she was going to look “very ugly” (he was Russian) and as he was stitching up her forehead she kept saying, “Don’t hate me cuz I’m beautiful.” I miss her. She had ethics — I’m literally crying.)