Yes, I'm fine. The fires are everywhere but where I live thanks to an inflated rent that keeps me by the water. My work was evacuated for a couple of days, but thankfully, i'm back at my desk.
The air quality is awesome. San Diego is basically a giant outdoor smoking patio which is ironic because people are actually still smoking. Not ironic in the literal sense, ironic in the Alanis Morissette sense which is not really ironic at all.
They are estimating the damages at about a billion right now and yesterday the president declared San Diego a Federal State of Emergency. Fortunately the winds have died down and the firefighters are finally making some headway.
Yesterday, as I lay on the couch in my underwear eating lunchmeat with my hands and watching the fire coverage, I almost witnessed a Most Shocking Videos moment. It was a camera man standing in front of a burning house on a hill. He was filming the house burn when the car in the driveway's gas tank finally ruptured and the camera followed as flaming gasoline went racing down the gutter towards the news van parked down the street. There was a little Benny Hill sequence as the cameraman panicked and silently tried to signal the reporter who had his back to the camera as he ran towards the van. Sadly, they got to the van in time and it did not explode... much to my wide-eyed and now standing disappointment.
That is about as exciting as it's gotten for me. I don't think i'll be running into burning structures and saving animals or babies, but if I do, i'll definitely blog about it.
The following is an email that was forwarded to me in 2002. I don't know what reminded me of it, but i found it buried in my inbox and thought i'd share. If you've read it, read it again. It's probably the funniest email i've ever received.
These are notes from an inexperienced chili taster named FRANK, who was visiting Texas from New Jersey & fell into it:
"Recently I was lucky enough to be the 10,000th attendee at the State Fair in Texas, & was asked to fill in to be a judge at a chili cook-off.
Apparently the original judge #3 called in sick at the last moment, & I happened to be standing there when the call came in. I was assured by the other two judges (Native Texans) that it would be a fun event & a true taste of Texas hospitality. They assured me that the chili wouldn't be all that spicy, & besides they told me I could have free beer during the tasting, so I accepted. Here are the scorecards from the event:
Chili # 1: Mike's Maniac Mobster Monster Chili
JUDGE ONE: A little too heavy on tomato. Amusing kick.
JUDGE TWO: Nice, smooth tomato flavor. Very mild.
FRANK: Holy shit, what the hell is this stuff? You could remove dried paint from your driveway with it. Took me two beers to put the flames out. Hope that's the worst one. These Texans are crazy.
Chili # 2: Arthur's Afterburner Chili
JUDGE ONE: Smoky, with a hint of pork. Slight Jalapeno tang.
JUDGE TWO: Exciting BBQ flavor, needs more peppers to be taken seriously.
FRANK: Keep this out of reach of children! I'm not sure what I am supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave off 3 people who wanted to give me the Heimlich maneuver. They had to walkie-talkie in 3 extra beers when they saw the look on my face.
Chili # 3: Fred's Famous Burn Down the Barn Chili
JUDGE ONE: Excellent firehouse chili! Great kick. Needs more beans.
JUDGE TWO: A beanless chili, a bit salty, good use of red peppers.
FRANK: Call the EPA, I've located a uranium spill. My nose feels like I have been snorting Drano. Everyone knows the routine by now. Barmaid pounded me on the back; now my backbone is in the front part of my chest. I'm getting shit-faced. >
Chili # 4: Bubba's Black Magic
JUDGE ONE: Black bean chili with almost no spice. Disappointing.
JUDGE TWO: Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish or other mild foods, not much of a chili.
FRANK: I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable to taste it. Sally, the bar maid, was standing behind me with fresh refills; that 300 lb. bitch is starting to look HOT, just like this nuclear-waste I'm eating.
JUDGE TWO: Chili using shredded beef; could use more tomato. Must admit the cayenne peppers make a strong statement.
FRANK: My ears are ringing, and I can no longer focus my eyes. I farted & 4 people behind me needed paramedics. The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her chili had given me brain damage.
Sally saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring beer directly on it from a pitcher. It really pisses me off that the other judges asked me to stop screaming. Screw those rednecks!
Chili # 6: Vera's Very Vegetarian Variety
JUDGE ONE: Thin yet bold vegetarian variety chili. Good balance of spice & peppers.
JUDGE TWO: The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions & garlic. Superb.
FRANK: My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous, sulfuric flames. No one seems inclined to stand behind me except that slut Sally. I need to wipe my ass with a snow cone!
Chili # 7: Susan's Screaming Sensation Chili
JUDGE ONE: A mediocre chili with too much reliance on canned peppers.
JUDGE TWO: Ho Hum, tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of chili peppers at the last moment. I should note that I am worried about Judge Number 3. He appears to be in a bit of distress as he is cursing uncontrollably.
FRANK: You could put a grenade in my mouth, pull the pin, & I wouldn't feel a damn thing. I've lost the sight in one eye, & the world sounds like it is made of rushing water. My shirt is covered with chili which slid unnoticed out of my mouth. My pants are full of lava-like shit to match my damn shirt. At least during the autopsy they'll know what killed me. I've decided to stop breathing, it's too painful. Screw it, I'm not getting any +oxygen anyway. If I need air, I'll just suck it in through the 4 inch hole in my stomach.
Chili # 8: Helen's Mount Saint Chili
JUDGE ONE: A perfect ending, this is a nice blend chili, safe for all, not too bold but spicy enough to declare its existence.
JUDGE TWO: This final entry is a good, balanced chili, neither mild nor hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge Number 3 passed out, fell & pulled the chili pot on top of himself. Not sure if he's going to make it. Poor Yank.
Went to see my buddy in Santa Monica over the weekend. This is his roommate's DVD collection (he's a struggling actor- shocking) . I thought it worthy of a photo.
I found this list of band rules in the musician section on SD's craigslist. Mildly amusing if you've ever attempted to keep a band together. I'd add a few if I had more energy today.
Never start a trio with a married couple.
Your manager's not helping you. Fire him/her.
Before you sign a record deal, look up the word "recoupable" in the dictionary.
No one cares who you've opened for.
A string section does not make your songs sound any more "important".
If your band has gone through more than 4 bass players, it's time to break up.
When you talk on stage you are never funny.
If you sound like another band, don't act like you're unfamiliar with their music ("Oh does Rage Against The Machine also do rap-rock with political lyrics?")
Asking a crowd how they're doing is just amplified small talk. Don't do it.
Don't say your video's being played if it's only on the Austin Music Network.
When you sign to a major label, claim to have inked the best contract ever. Mention "artistic freedom" and "a guaranteed 3 record deal".
When you get dropped insist that it was the worst contract ever and you asked to be let go.
Never name a song after your band.
Never name your band after a song.
When a drummer brings in his own songs and asks to perform one of them, begin looking for a new drummer IMMEDIATELY.
Never enter a "battle of the bands" contest. If you do you're already a loser.
Learn to recognize scary word pairings: "rock opera", "white rapper", "blues jam", "swing band", "open mike", etc.
Drummers can take off their shirts or they can wear gloves, but not both.
Listen, either break it to your parents or we will; it's rock 'n' roll, not a soccer game. They've gotta stop coming to your shows.
It's not a "showcase". It's a gig that doesn't pay.
No one cares that you have a web site.
Getting a tattoo is like sewing platform shoes to your feet.
Don't hire a publicist.
Playing in San Marcos & Alpine doesn't mean you're on tour.
Don't join a cover band that plays Bush songs. In fact, don't join a cover band.
Although they come in different styles and colours, electric guitars all sound the same. Why do you keep changing them between songs?
Don't stop your set to ask that beers be brought up. That's what girlfriends/boyfriends and lead singers are for!
If you use a smoke machine your music sucks.
We can tell the difference between a professionally produced album cover and one you made with the iMac your mom got for Christmas.
Remember, if blues solos are so difficult, why can so many 16 year olds play them?
If you ever take a publicity photo, destroy it. You may never know where or when it will turn up.
Cut your hair, but do not shave your head.
Pierce your nose, but not your eyebrow.
Do not wear shorts onstage. Or a suit. Or a hat.
Rock oxymorons; "major label interest", "demo deal"," blues genius", "$500 guarantee", and "Fastball's second hit".
3 things that are never coming back: a)gongs, b)headbands, and c)playing slide guitar with a beer bottle.
Sup yall. Was crack-a-lackin? 
