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[The Black Spy who will kill the white spy]

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[The Black Spy]

Hmmm … our whole crew called in sick today. Makes me wonder if they’re all up at the Pig-In-A-Poke Pub getting sauced. I’d better go investigate and make sure they see the doc.

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Yo ho ho and a ha ha ha. Funny, ironic stuff here.

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That’ll be the day the Chinese stroll into the U.S. and take over our country (and our grade schools filled with olympic sized pools, marbled hallways, and polished oak desks). Nice pipe dream though.

I like Dodge vehicles. My dream car is a black Dodge Charger SRT8 with the 6.1-liter HEMI engine. I’m also a NASCAR fan and I always root, root, root for Dodge. Thus, I must admit, yeah, I’d wear this t-shirt. I like it.

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I have fond memories and day dreams about soap operas. I remember as a child, sitting on my g-ma’s lap, watching General Hospital in the afternoons. Those were the good old days. Blackie had his rock band called Riff Raff and Luke and Laura were getting married (”Luke For President!”). John Stamos should have remained in that role as Blackie. He was good.

*sigh*

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(((Muffin)))

Our reporter in the field took a few t-shirt shots at the recent San Diego Comic Convention festival of comic books. Sometimes such events are called “comic cons”, as was the case with this one.

Below, we see a fine looking fellow in a green t-shirt. He holds his faceless son; ashamed, as the child’s white t-shirt is stained and soaked with bile. We don’t know who the guy on the left is, but we were unable to crop him out of the shot.

More photos after the jump, which means click for more…

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Yesterday was a bad day. That’s all I have to say about it. I got up ’round noon, feeling drowsy, but maintaining an urge to rock n roll–and I found my guitar was out of tune. Like WTF. So, I figure I may as well get some new strings then give ‘er a tune up.

Coffee. Shower. Dress. I run up to the guitar store. I literally ran there, as neither Paco nor John would give me a lift. (Thanks a lot guys).

So, guitar strings cost $10.99 these days. That was my whole weekend’s fun money. Gone in one shot. That was harsh enough. I get back to my Rick and start to string the bitch, and I pull up on the round wound D string and my index finger slides along the tight string–I get sliced to the bone. Blood all over.

After all that running around, my finger was cut and all bandaged up so I couldn’t play. Instead, I kicked back, hummed, and wrote a song called, “Yesterday, Was A Bad Day.” I’ll run it by the guys at Tuesday’s practice.

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[The Black Spy]

Today, our thoughts and prayers are with Paul Stanley lead singer of the greatest rock ‘n roll show on earth: KISS.

According to CNN.com this AM, Paul (born Stanley Harvey Eisen) is suffering from an as of yet undiagnosed heart ailment. He had to miss a show in Las Vegas yesterday due to rapid heart beats, yet KISS went on as a trio anyway, and dedicated the concert to him. How cool is that?

Here’s wishing you a quick recovery Paul.

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Some local radio station oughtta have a contest in which one could “Win A Dream Date With Amy Winehouse!” That’d be funny.

Here she is wearing some kind of tattoo t-shirt.