I got an email from my contact-person at Blender wherein he asked if I could write a spicy blog about sex and debauchery in DC during inauguration week. Er, uh, you’re asking me? That’s like asking me about hair products. Or basketball. (See the gag there is that I neither have hair nor height. Just to be clear. Jokes are funny when you have to explain them. And to be clear, jokes tend not to be funny when you have to explain them. I was being facetious. Thanks).
I’m sure that DC is awash in a sea of sex and debauchery and degeneracy and vices of all shapes and size, but unfortunately I know nought about any of it. I mean, as an example do you want to hear the least rock and roll thing ever? Earlier tonight I was DJ’ing at the Shep Fairey/Moveon event and a woman came up to me and asked me if I could introduce her to my tour manager because she thought he was cute. I mean, really? Asking a musician to introduce her to his tour manager? Maybe I missed that day in ‘how to be a rockstar 101’, but doesn’t that normally work the other way around? I guess bald, middle-aged musicians just don’t have the sex appeal that they used to… Ah well. and you want me to write about sex and debauchery in DC during inauguration week? I know nothing. Nought. Somewhere between 1 and -1, barring fractions. The first letter of Obama’s last name. A song by the Smashing Pumpkins off of Mellon Collie. Null set. 3 minus 3. and so on.
Check out the entire post here.