Today is the end of Ramadan, so ain't nobody working. The Muslim pop in Accra is pretty close to invisible, but in the North those guys are serious, yo. So Ghanians, being a siesta-loving people, just take days off during Christian and Muslim holidays. No work is no work, Alhamdulillah.
So I'm back in the research weeds. C to the arpal, T to the unnel, S to the on-of-a-bitch I can feel my veins kinking like a garden hose. The only productive thing I've accomplished this afternoon is tearing the cuffs off the bottom of these jackball shorts I bought a couple weeks back from Woolworths. The only fashions they had in stock were "PTA Barbecue" and "Totally Thrashing," so I picked the former. Now if I could just get a pair of white socks that weren't topped off with red & blue diamond patterns, I wouldn't look like a mook.
Online time is going sloooow. Internet research requires internet diversions, but I think I've read everything interesting on the entire freaking web. No help from Berkeley Breathed, who isn't letting his new Opus strip be published anywhere except paper comics pages in real paper newspapers.
Bad idea, reminding me of the Beastie Boys and Pearl Jam. Remember right before each group drove off the relevance cliff, they were singing and rapping about how cool vinyl was? Pearl Jam released Vitalogy records two weeks before CDs were available, and the insufferable Mike D rapped on Ill Communication that "I'm still listenin' to wax I'm not usin' the CD." Yeah, D! Wax yourself over to the ghetto of the strictly over-25 audience. Maybe you can get Steely Dan to remix your next album.
Did either group attracted a single new listener after those albums?
Let Breathed have half of a broadsheet from the Sunday Picayune all to himself, and all the cubicled young people will continue to forward Get Your War On strips to each other. Breathed = clownshoes.
Yes, that's really all there is for today. Why the hell am I even in Africa?
