This past Thursday eve, I walked in (drunk) to my local tobacco dealer looking to purchase my signature brand of death sticks, Kamel Reds. I also purchased (in my drunken stupor) a package of loose-leaf cigarette tobacco, with the complimentary 50 rolling papers. As you may guess, I bought this with the idea to roll a few of my own cigarettes. One, it saves money, because I can get about 50 or so cigarettes out of the $4.50 I paid for the tobacco. Two, it is badass to roll and smoke your own cigarette. It hits harder (smoked sans filter) and looks like something out of a John Wayne movie. So far,I've gotten pretty damned good at making a slow-burning, tightly-packed, cowboy-like stogie. I will not keep you updated on how this affects my smoking habits, for I do not expect you to care. I wouldn't.

Having broadcasted one of my best radio shows ever, I was angry and confused when none of you readers called in and talked to me. Then, I remembered that my readers have lives, and I did only tell you of it's happening at 4 AM on Sunday morning. For the record, I am still hurt.

According to what I've heard, the Grammy for “Album Of The Year” was awarded to a jazz artist. What the hell? People still listen to jazz? People still play jazz? I was under the impression that jazz died with Coltrane, but then again, I do not keep abreast of the medium and therefore should not be taken as a credible or sober source on the matter. I do expect to see more dive jazz bars spring up, and hopefully with them, the proliferation of absinthe in the continental U.S. Worst case scenario, the long-demonized spirit shows up in a few posh city bars. Best case scenario, mandatory absinthe fountains in all federal and state buildings.

You know what makes me ashamed of myself? I have never read a Hemingway book. I know, I know. You hate me. I have lost all credibility as a writer. I'm to damned attractive to be left alive. But this I promise you; by the end of this week, I will have finished at least one Hemingway novel, and will have either started of finished my second.

God, I'm drunk. Here's my booze safari for the week;

1. Link to “Forced labor in Germany during World War II.” (this ought to make Paul Frank happy)

2. Link to “Ghettos.” (this ought to make Holland and his Newports and his purple drink happy)

3. Link to “Skid row.” (this ought to make Bukowski happy, provided he rises from the grave)

4. Link to “Prohibitionism.”

5. Link to “Temperance movement.”

6. Link to “Drunkenness.” (makes me happy.)