They Might Be Giants

I'm going to They Might Be Giants tomorrow at the House of Blues on Sunset. How exciting is that?

I don't think anybody is reading this blog. Nobody can share in my excitement of this concert. I think a lot of the initial excitement sort of petered out and has been replaced by aggressive indifference. My budget for advertising was planned to increase to $12.5 million dollars next year, but I don't see the logic in dumping more money into this problem. After all, if $5 million didn't do anything, then $12.5 million won't.

Perhaps it was where I spent that advertising money. Which is to say, I spent it on crawfish. My original plan was to buy 5 tons of crawfish, get some tattoo artists to tattoo the web address of this blog on these crawfish, and then to rerelease them back into the wild.

However, once that truck with the crawfish pulled up, PETA stood in their way. Those little, green, Nader-voting fuckshits stood in front of those tattoo artists and said it was inhumane to do this to the poor, defenseless crawfish. So the clock was ticking. To keep them from dying, I had to make sure their water was fresh and they had enough food. On top of this, I found that about a third of the crawfish were diabetic, and another third kept kosher. So, I had to adjust these diets accordingly.

In the end, I could only release them back into the wild without their tattoos. Fuck! Fucking PETA and their goddamn 'no animal tattoo' demands. Five million bucks allocated for advertising and nobody is reading this.

I directly blame PETA for nobody visiting my blog. To those people who don't visit and read my blog (that's probably you), I'd like to send out a hearty, "FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

Thank you, God bless you, and God bless the United States of America. Shithead.