So I’ve had a chat or two with management at The Scoot Inn, and despite prior assurances I’d have complete creative control over tonight’s programme, there’s been a subtle hint or two that perhaps I need to make a greater effort to make the cash registers ring.
I’m all about the art. I hope you know that by now. But it’s also really hard to masturbate blog with a broken arm, and with that in mind, I have made some serious concessions.
Along with my usual musical journey down Memory Lane (and I-35 south), tonight will also feature a stirring career retrospective devoted to Tim Stegall. Not only will rare footage of the Hormones and Napalm Stars be on display, but we’ll have a reading of some of Dr. Stegall’s finest works and perhaps dignitaries from all over the music and art world will make their testimonials via satellite.
(perhaps)
(due to circumstances beyond our control, Tim Napalm himself will not be in attendance).
I should also mention —- in the interests of full disclosure, that when Scoot Inc. re-sent my last missive about this event, a particularly unflattering reference to a band I’ll merely refer to as the Weapons Of Mass Fucktardom, was deleted.
I wholeheartedly promise you that no censorship took place, and any reports of an unpleasant exchange between myself and a certain C. Attal of Austin, TX were wildly exaggerated. We were merely rehearsing for a dinner theatre production of “Network” (he took the Ned Beatty part, I was Peter Finch).
In any event, I look forward to seeing you all at the Scoot Inn (1308 East 4th Street at Navasota), this evening, from 10pm onwards.
If I’d been notified I would have been there. Thanks for the honor, Gerard. Hope you managed to locate a print of “The Legend Of Billie Jean,” seeing as how my cinematic career is so vital to my history….*winks and grins*
Cheers, And Welcome To Austin,
TIM
Dear Tim,
you’re welcome, though I’ve still not recovered from injuries suffered at the hands of your enraged fans…who didn’t take kindly to the news that the Smithsonian had confiscated most of the materials we meant to have on display.
Damn! You mean I have to go to the Smithsonian to find my life? I wondered where all my things went after I went homeless in NYC….
Contact my lawyers about the injuries. I am an heir now, after all.