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It was a glorious weekend to be out and about! A good size group of Flippin' Idiots assembled at the Temple of the River God for the official season opening ceremonies on Saturday. Our Temple as been defiled by non-believers and invaded by barbarians but we did a fair clean-up job after them.
Sunday Star Light Drive In was packed for the monthly Mondo. Spike was spinning some swinging tunes while the crowds assembled. Then the toons spun up, a classic Porky and Sylvester, and the feature came to life in glorious black and white. Manchurian Candidate stars Frank Sinatra in a cold war film-noir-style thriller with a few nice bits of cinematography, some decent acting, and a cool plot, one worth renting if you haven't caught it before. It was a bit chilly but tolerable, the perfect time of year to hit the drive in. The bugs aren't out yet!
We FINALLY got all the stuff out of the old Degenerate Press HQ! No, I can't believe it took that long either. No, I can't believe we moved in the first place. Yes, we're still living out of boxes.

We’ve invited a few specific bands to play the July1 Summertime Blast and we’re awaiting confirmation or denial. If you’re in a band and willing to play for all the beer, barbecue and explosives you can stand contact us. Other fringe benefits to be detailed in private.

We got this report from degenerate SK:
> Last night, I took an all-expense-paid trip with the Moonshine
Killers to the Caledonia in Athens. Being from way south of Atlanta, this
was my first trip to Athens in many years. The Killers put on a good show at
1:30, after consuming many more beers (even for them!) than I would have
>Interesting was the headliners, Golden Showers (tacky name). A
Europunk-styled singer (from Berlin) proved unable to detract from a solid
rock trio consisting of a slip of a girl bassist (from parts unknown), a
drummer from NM, and a guitar player from the Big Easy.
And this email from out of the blue:
>I've got some sad news to report. Infra-Red is temporarily on hold.
I showed up early at Dottie's to set up on Thursday night to find a band
unloading gear in the parking lot. After locating an unfamiliar sound guy,
I asked where the normal booker/sound guy was. I was informed that the guy
who was booking Dotties and running sound had quit. This is the gentleman
who booked Infra-Red at Dotties.
>Apparently, the new sound guy wiped the books and filled in the calendar
with his own shows. Nobody called me to let me know ahead of time that
Infra-Red had been cancelled. Pretty typical behavior of Atlanta night
clubs, where miscommunication is rampant enough to make me wonder how any
of them stay open at all.

It’s too bad Atlanta Press never got around to printing my article on the rise and fall of Dottie’s before they vanished in a puff of inky smoke. Yes, that’s right, next issue is their last! I’m sad to see it go, but then I was sad to see them change their name and follow the local Cox media model that the Loafing seemed all too happy to leap right into a few years back.
So I turned my eye to the non-Cox-clones in search of a paper outlet for my poison pen only to find utter trash. Jeff Clark shits out his monthly gripe fest with so much Neil Bortzian libertarian bile that I can barely stand to open it any more, much less consider my name in print in the same pages.
Atlanta Sideshow was taken over by one of their writers, only to continue the fascination with rasslin’. I might have considered being the lone dissenting voice in the rag had I not caught a recent promo for pro rasslin’ on tv in which a rassler pulls down his pants to show his white undies complete with a big brown stain on the back. He proceed to rub that stain into the face of another prone rassler while the announcer yelled “SKID MARK!!! SKID MARK!!!” at the top of his lungs. As long as Sideshow promotes that kind of "action" I won't have my name in it willingly.
The only local paper I can stand to read now is the gay Southern Voice and they don’t take much interest in the music I fancy.
So I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you, my local viewers! Without you I’d be talking to myself on some street corner.
Well, more often than I already do anyway.

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