bring the noyz

Or maybe there is a new sheriff in town.



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Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin'.
Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin'.

- Bob Dylan

Earlier tonight I popped by the local adult beverage store to purchase a bottle. "Ah, sweet liquor eases the pain," as our dearly departed Lionel Hutz once opined. My happy hour buzz was wearing thin following my mediocre adventure at the local video store. I stopped whilst in the process of completing the classic Friday night "let's just get some cheap liquor and a couple of movies" routine.

Yeah, you know how it goes.

Anyways, I was perusing the vodka selection on the middle shelves. The impending weekend justified an upgrade from the bottom shelf (Kamchatka anyone?) A modern day Ted, complete with the obligatory All-American Rejects haircut and a cellphone in his right hand seemingly attached to his ear, wandered my way. He was reading the brand names on the bottles seeking approval of the unheard voice on the other end of the line. He nearly bumped into me. He stopped and looked me up and down, "Do you blaze up?"

What? Did I hear that right? Do I what? "I've been known to blaze up a time or two."

"Do you wanna score some killer weed? Dime bag? Ten bucks."

I briefly paused while gears turned, "What do I have to do?"

"Follow me to this apartment complex around the corner." He gestures with his cell phone, "Let me give you my number."

I pretend to compare vodka sale prices until the turning gears get gummed up by the cold hand of reality, "Nah man, not tonight."

"Well le'me give you my number. . . "

"No thanks, but I appreciate the offer." I grab a bottle as I turn and walk away.
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