I’m super torn about going to see Chuck Prophet tonight. Last time I went to his show it was one of my best live music experiences ever. But tonight I am still hacking up lungs, it’s about zero degrees outside, and while a smoke free auditorium at 7pm last night was no problem, a smoke-filled bar at 11pm just might be. So I’m still undecided. But Chuck still rocks, no matter what. (Of course if I wasn’t leaving country for so long in a couple months I would just wait, but that fact both contributes to my desire to see as many acts as possible and the impossible busyness that keeps me from doing just that.)
In completely unrelated events…Yes this sounds about right. Almost makes me nostalgic:
Why I Live In South Florida
The Miami Herald reports today that the chief of police of my town, Coral Gables, accidentally shot his gun in the bathroom of the police department Wednesday. Last year he accidentally shot his gun in a fitness club. Sooner or later, he is bound to hit a criminal. I say this because our criminals are not the sharpest knives in the drawer; if you scroll down from the police-chief item – past the item about the trial of the gastroenterologist charged with having sex with a patient who was under anestheisia while being treated for varicose veins – you come to the item about the sentencing of a man who robbed a bank and then, during the getaway, shot himself in the pants.
Two items below that is an update on an injured pygmy sperm whale, Kokomo, who had been staying in the swimming pool of a motel.
These items all appear well inside the paper, because down here they are fairly unremarkable. This is not the planet Earth.
– Dave Berry