Sheriff Fatman

Really, what I want to know is why I spent a large part of Friday night listening to Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine?

It’s a sound of The End of History, big sans-serif fonts on top of VT from a performance on The 8:15 From Manchester, Amiga music intros, and big honking slabs of the cheapest drum beat you could possibly imagine. And there’s been no revival. The only reference point I can think of these days would be The Indelicates, and they’re not exactly a household name. Maybe I just love the puns and the vague memory of happier times before The Event.

Also, who booked them for the Smash Hits Poll Winners’ Party?

(I have to say that I’m on Schofield’s side of that argument; his response to them smashing up the stage is peak-Smash Hits. It’s not quite like firing a machine gun at the Brits, after all…)

In Event news, I went outside. Twice. Both to supermarkets, though one trip was for a prescription rather than food items. The trip to Kroger was weird in that it’s the first time in a month I’ve been near that number of people . Already it seems odd to have so many people in one place. Probably around 60-70% people wearing masks and…somewhat bad attempts at social distancing. You have to be more on your game noticing when people suddenly stop in the aisles. But I got in and out (I can’t say unscathed, because none of us really know, of course). There are supplies, and there will be a roast dinner (and a game of Root which actually ended up not being quite as scary for a first play-through as we expected).

As I type this, I realize that right now, I should have been suffering terrible jet-lag and trying to roam the streets of Tokyo with Tammy in a vain attempt to stay up to a reasonable bedtime. There would have been ramen, brutalism, bourbon hunting, and my face curling into a pained grimace as Tammy ate all the seafood. But the important thing is that we’re still all here and mostly okay!