Before I begin this summary of tonight's guilt and redneck madness, let me take the time to welcome jo_munch
to the friend list. Be warned, I don't offer refunds. And longtime readers should be impressed that I didn't use "misanthropy" in the intro.
Okies. Went to the library after waking, mainly because I had to run to Ghetto Kroger's to get Fair tickets form mom and Rachel. Well, that and I had to return a few books before I incurred the fines. I ended up getting Christopher Moore's Bloodsucking Fiends
out, which is now waiting for me to complete The Public Works Trilogy
, which I've been getting done very slowly. Current progess is that I'm halfway through, mainly because I got motivated last night before bed. I must admit that his explination of Atlas Shrugged
gave me a better perspective on where Ayn Rand was coming from, particularly since we ignored most of Ms. Rand's biography in high school.
So I go to Kroger's. I get my tickets, and find out Les Miserables
is coming to Columbus at the beginning of September. *drools* I love Les Mis
. And it would be nice to see it again, particularly without the whole "We rode 15 hours on a bus to New York, and haven't slept yet" vibe. And I also got a form to see a taping of Jepardy!
at the Schott.
So, Mom and Rachel get here about half an hour after I get back. We head to the Fair, and Mom rode the carosel and spinning bear ride with Rachel. I had no desire to ride either. Then we met up with Rich at the Schmidt's pavillion for a lovely dinner of sausage. Here starts the guilt. I offered to take mom and Rachel to the fair. Mom insisted on paying me back for the tickets, and got mad when I used my own funds to coer part of dinner. But by the same token, Mom didn't have that much cash on her. By the time we got through with Fair food, Mom had $3 to her name. And she wouldn't allow me to shrug off the tickets. I felt like I was trapped in The Grapes of Wrath
. The woman doesn't even try, and she still makes me feel 3 inches high.
So, Rachel and Mom went to see the choir, while Rich and I headed over to see Ted Nugent. First off, our tickets were 5 rows from the stage. Ted's stage was set with a BIG
American flag backdrop, and he himself had a shirt made out of the flag. I remember when using the flag for clothing was offensive, not patriotic. The times they are a changing. His amps had AK-47's attached to the fronts of them, fer crying out loud. For the curious, he opened with "Free for All". Then he proceeded to play a bunch of new songs, most of which consisted of him a) repeating the same phrase repeatedly, b) telling everyone he hates to "Kiss my ass", or c) telling us to crucify him. The highlight to this segment was the sign-language interpreter, who was dancing like a biker chick. And for the record, there were more mullets at Ted than at Poison.
Somewhere in there, he made a huge rant that covered gun control beiing bad, NRA being good, liberals being bad, and he wore a camoflage Stetson while doing it. He also bitched about terrorism, drunk driving, drugs, and a bunch of other things, most of which were accompanied by the white trash around me cheering at the top of their lungs.
So, after playing "Stranglehold", he ends his first set. He comes back out with a Native America headress and sings about the buffalo. At the end of that, he shot a flaming arrow at his guitar. He missed, hitting an amp. One more encore, a song that I didn't recognize, and Rich and I were off. Free tickets or not, I can think of much better places I could have been tonight. Although he was better than Danzig or Powerman 5000.
Well, Richard and I walk back, and we talked a lot about Mom's upcoming birthday, when she will be 67. The family is throwing a shindig (a good majority of Mom's side of the family was born in August, so they throw a big bash for everyone) at Richard's house on Saturday. Fortunately, I will be in Port Clinton. Richard said he was trying to come up with creative excuses to get out of it. Neither of us are fond of our uncle or cousins. And not without reason. Mom, I will find a good gift for, and help her celebrate this landmark. The rest of them can rot.
So, that was my day. I can't wait for the freaking weekend.