Circus Redickuless

 

A cachorra do Chicken, Dammit Dog, está fazendo 18 aninhos de idade amanhã. E vai ganhar uma festança. A cachorra mais popular de San Francisco já foi a estrela do Circus Ridickuless, um circo punk rock que o Chicken fundou nos anos 90 e viajou de costa a costa por vários anos.

Basicamente, era um circo em que ninguém sabia fazer nada. Inclusive a Dammit.

Parece totalmente idiota, e é. Mas é muito engraçado. E amanhã, no venerável bar 12 Galaxies na Mission Street, o Circus Ridickuless se juntará de novo, quer dizer, os que sobreviveram, para celebrar o aniversário da nossa querida cachorrinha.

Mas o Chicken explica muito melhor que eu aí embaixo:

I just re-read the post I sent out last year for the show when Dammit (amazingly) turned 17. Well, she’s 18 this year and actually doing much better than last year. Dog acupunture actually works. Who knew? I’m officially a Californian. My dog gets acupunture. I can’t possibly write anything better, so I’m just gonna send this out again. (editing it just a little) I enjoyed re-reading it. I hope you do as well. And I hope you will join us at the show on the 18th. I had the most fun that I had in YEARS at the last show.

chicken

In 1994 I wanted to do something that would impact culture to a degree that I couldn’t’ understand using a tool that no one else was using. I couldn’t figger out how to do that, so I started a circus instead. I couldn’t have ever relised that the 2 would intersect in such a confluence; I ended up living my thesis of: “Art for all purposes” using an interesting template…. ‘No content’ as ‘the content’. I sold people on the idea of providing nothing in the form of a circus show as a way to embrace the most inspiring show we could do. We would have no talent, thereby giving access to anyone. Then, I toured the show for 5 years. Actually, you could say I dragged the show around for 5 years… kicking a screaming and biting. If you could add up the calories spent in throwing a circus it would likely rival a small war. In the end, I guess it worked. I am proud that I and those with me ‘tipped’ the circus idea and inspired the THOUSANDS of small, independent circus’ that popped up here and there shortly after we toured. And longly. And they still are. That’s in the end. But in the beginning, it was just us. And boy, was it lonely. Lemme ‘splain: I call a club to book the circus. The conversation usually went like this:

CHICKEN: “Hello there, my name is Chicken John, I’m the director of a small, independent traveling circus that would like to play in your club. Do you have the night of April 23d available?”

GREASY CLUB OWNER: “A circus? What kind of music do you play?

CHICKEN: “Well, we’re not a band. We’re a circus. A full variety show.”

GREASY CLUB OWNER: “If your not a band, what kind of music do you play?”

On and on it went. You would say to people that you were a circus, and they would imagine clowns playing the guitar. No, just the clown. No guitar. A 25 person circus with 5 vehicles and 3 dogs. A full 3 hour show with lights and sound and acrobats and it’s all terrible. We put the OOOP in TROUPE, but we havn’t any talent. It’s the show of schmoes… blab la bla… I would try to explain that we couldn’t actually do anything but that it was actually better. Higher art. That was at first. I of course stopped doing that because no one wanted to book that. I ended up prostituting the idea that, indeed, clowns play the guitar. Clown girls doing strip teases. With, of course, giant boobs. Yes, we juggle. No one got it. Not even most of the people in the troupe. Unbowed, I continued. I thought that I would crack the code. Figger it out. Collect bling. I was young.

I’m no longer young. But the idea of the circus was an odd Zeitgeist that I participated in. A renaissance of art. There were a small handful of people who had a proclivity for the old ways… and in 1994, if you remember, it was all about particle board and the Pontiac Fiero. Interesting thing about particle board, like plywood isn’t made of particles… but I digress. The destination was marked, and we all ran screaming twards it. But like an oasis in the desert, the destination kept getting farther instead of further… and we ended up REPLACING instead of changing culture. Capice? It’s not bad, but it’s terribly interesting. It wasn’t a hobby, something that we did while holding down jobs and paying bills. We wandered from town to town trying to get people to come see a show that championed the amateur and the improvisation of a group of idiots with no talent. Without a dollar in our pockets. Seasons melted into years. Affecting culture and living your life as art blurred into survival. It became Quixotic.

I guess I’m still doing the same thing. Kinda. I ran for mayor without a platform. All the people of the circus were affected by it, understand it and are still contributing in some way. A lot of years have gone by. All the circus people scattered to the 4 winds. A few of them are gonna come out and play Friday night, at 12 Galaxies. Why Friday night the 18th of January?

Dammit the Amazing Wonderdog is turning 18 years old. This dog is better traveled then most people I know. She has had the most attention that a dog can possibly have. 25 people to throw the stick. Adoring fans. Her image on t-shirts, posters, coffee mugs and all of Hal Robins’ artwork for the circus. We named the production company after her. She was the only star of the circus. She had a theme song. She is now old. She had a little stroke thing, and is a little crooked. Listing, actually. I want Dammit to hear her song again. I want her to hear the roar of the crowd as she absolutely refuses to jump through the hoop. I want her to take home underage girls from Orinda after the show and tie them up and… oh wait, I do that not Dammit… I want her to do it again while she still can. And she can. Barely, but yes. She can.

Have you never seen Dammit’s act? Or Jarico’s? Did you know that the Bike Rodeo, the Black Label bike club and the Hard Times guys and Burning Man’s DPW were, at one time, soldiers that saluted one flag? That flag, ladies and gentlemen… was the Circus Redickuless.

An insult more then a concept, we took acts that generations of people honed to perfection and obliterated them with comedy and beer. With Jim Masons’ Vegomatic of the Apocalypse in the parking lot out back. A gang of angry drunk idiots on tall bikes and clowns that were molesting your girlfriend in the toilet. We were the island of misfit toys on tour. It was an experiment in freedom. In pre-9/11 America. I don’t think you could do that today. The touring part, not the performing part. You can see the performing part in everywhere. It tipped. ‘Other’ entertainments are now the norm.

As with the Odeon. When I opened the Odeon (the project after the circus) I only booked things that couldn’t find a home elsewhere. By the end of the Odeon’s’ usefulness, I was competing with all the other clubs in SF for ‘my’ acts. Problem solved, time to move on. I’m not saying we were the only ones breaking that horse… I’m just saying that we helped. We’ll have to wait until HBO does the made-for-TV-movie of Steven Raspas life before we find out who was REALLY responsible for the ideas that ‘broke’ fun fur and fedoras… and I am not going to be the first person to write a book about something that omits a person or two because I’m an asshole. There are books. And a lot more.

There is a movie. Phil Glau made a 87 minute film (16mm). A tour chronicle. ‘Tour de Farce. It won 17 film festivals. It’s hard to watch. Your depressed when it’s done. He put it out on DVD last year, with some “10 years later” footage at the end. Seeing Jarico a dozen years ago is magical. We were all children. Dannygirl, Michael Gump, Mark Miller… they will all be at the show. Also David Apocalypse, maybe Tall Who Is Paul, and if we’re lucky we may get auther Brian Doherty (This is Burning Man) to do his famous “Human Human” act. Phil will be there with his new DVD. You wont’ buy it, but you will feel comforted that you could google it if ya really wanted to. It’s nice to have that kind of ‘access’.

The final nail in the coffin of the Circus was a 13 page spread in Spin magazine. I probably don’t have to tell you what happened after that… lets just say that we couldn’t live up to our own hype. As no one really can. Defined by a story, and no longer available to possibility, the honeymoon ended. No one could run away fast enough.

We all likely wish we didn’t, now.

The Circus Redickuless was a great thing. Come witness failure defeated, mutated into something that can be argued as a success that may or may not be amusing to watch.

THRILL! To the unyielding SPEEDMETAL TAPDANCE

CHILL! The bone chilling spectacle of the GREAT SILLOUETTO, shadow puppeteer

SPILL! Your drink, while whistling to Meagan, our supple, milky REVERSE STRIPPER

WEEP! Dr. Hal brings you the truth of the future with OUIGI RAIDO

PUKE! Our VEGAN GEEK will bite the head off a lettuce

GARGLE! As our JUGGLER astounds gravity

BLUSH! At our scantily clad TEMPORARALY TATTOOED MAN

ROCK! To the sounds of the ODEON ALL STAR BAND

HAIL! To the only star of the circus: DAMMIT THE AMAZING WONDERDOG

CRINGE! Ringmonster CHICKEN JOHN sticks stuff up his nose and pulls it out his butt

Flambe! IGOR IGNITOR sets the club on fire

Bottlecaps! Delight in wonder at the INVISIBLE TAP DANCER

BLING! To the rapping MAD COW, biotch

…All this and the WORLDS LONGEST SOCK PUPPET to start the night off.

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Pobrema de Rico

San Francisco tem um paradoxo. É uma cidade de inovação, tanto tecnológica quanto cultural. Mas toda essa inovação gera uma prosperidade que aumenta o custo de vida, o que torna muito difícil para os inovadores viverem aqui, justo eles que são os responsáveis pela prosperidade. New York tem um problema semelhante, aliás na New Yorker desta semana há um artigo sobre o assunto. Considerando que em New York 20% dos salários são pagos pelo setor cultural (teatros, cinemas, museus, galerias e auditórios), não é pouca coisa. Imagino que seja difícil para alguém no Brasil entender a lógica de se discutir um problema desses, quando não se consegue sequer tirar as crianças do sinal de trânsito em São Paulo, ou ter serviços públicos com um mínimo de qualidade. Enfim, é um problema de cidade rica.

Mas que melhor maneira de discutir isso do que através de arte? Então estamos fazendo uma exibição aqui no galpão onde eu moro.

Chicken John: Project Artist Connect

Artist Reception Thursday November 1st 7pm-9pm n/c

Opening Party Saturday November 3rd 9pm $10

Chez Poulet Gallery
3359 Cesar Chavez (@mission) SF CA

In accordance with Gavin Newsome’s programs Project Homeless Connect, Project Green Connect, Project Fuck My Best Friends Wife Connect, Chicken John has created Project Artist Connect, inviting 10 San Francisco artists to depict their city in a visual commentary addressing local issues and attributes. The exhibition features a range of work in subject and medium, including solemn pencil drawings, explosive statements in metal, and a real estate company selling modular housing solutions. Chicken John will be on hand to relate his platform to the San Francisco presented by the artists, and to discuss the dilemmas facing our city. An unnamed cast of characters will push political hot-buttons with impromptu performances and crooked fingers, truly exemplifying innovative art.
Saturday November 3rd in the din of local dissidence, Chicken John will candidly debate a Mayor Gavin Newsome puppet, cultivating a conversation we have all been waiting to hear.

Participating artists:
Benjamin Carpenter (Bender)
Muriel Buckner (Sunshine)
James McPhee
Nancy Kalef
Lee Harvey Roswell
Rebecca Meredith
Larnie Fox
Dr. Hal Robins
Michael Christian
Robin Frohardt
KROB
Dystopic Horizons Realty

Ele está de volta

Chicken conseguiu levantar $25.000 dólares em doações individuais (máximo de $500 por pessoa) em 3 semanas.
Agora a batalha é com a Comissão de Ética da cidade (sim, aqui também tem isso, a diferença é que funciona) para provar que todas as doações vieram de residentes de San Francisco. E agora ele está correndo atrás para provar isso e se qualificar para o match 2:1 que a cidade dá para os candidatos. Ou seja, se ele juntou $25.000, a cidade vai dar mais $50.000 se ele provar que todas as doações são legais.

Vejo isso como um modelo para o Brasil; em vez de uma justiça que não funciona, incentivos para que a contabilidade seja feita com transparência. Consequiu aprovar as suas contas? Então toma aqui um dinheirinho extra para a sua campanha. Isso funciona para candidatos com respaldo popular que consigam um valor mínimo de doações e cria um feedback positivo para contas de campanha abertas.

Mas pensando bem, no Brasil alguém ia acabar descobrindo um jeito de avacalhar, deixa prá lá…
Abaixo, dois modelos de outdoor que estão sendo discutidos. Sem comentários… Um outro diz, simplesmente:
“Chicken John, your first choice for second place”.

Pelo jeito, o Chicken quer ser uma espécie de SBT de San Francisco…

E no meio disso tudo…

Foto: Mondo Il Magnifico Contra a Sacola de Supermercado Gigante, no Lost Vegas, evento organizado todo ano pelo Chicken. A sacola ganhou.

…a campanha continua. Chicken já arrecadou $17.000, de $2 em $2… Eis aqui o que a Lera, que é professora em Stanford, tem a dizer sobre o Chicken:

greetings friends –

i am writing with a strange but interesting request. one of my bestest long-time friends – chicken john – is running for mayor of san francisco. but don’t worry, he can’t win. we’re safe there. he’d make a terrible mayor. so you won’t get any pleas from me to vote for him. instead, i am writing to ask you to donate to his campaign.

why on earth would you donate to a political campaign of a candidate who can’t win, isn’t good for the job anyway, and whose name more importantly is “chicken john”?

well, chicken is his name – we can’t do anything about that. but here are some reasons why you may want to make a contribution. (www.voteforchicken.com)

chicken isn’t running to win. his campaign is an art project, a performance, an opportunity to communicate a message, and it’s a good message.

the idea is to open up a conversation about two topics dear to chicken and to many of us: public art and the environment. chicken wants san francisco to be a city of art and innovation. he is hoping to use his campaign to draw the mayor’s office attention to the great good that comes from art (wouldn’t it be great to have more funding for art for all to enjoy? to live in a city that supports its artists rather than driving them away?), and to push the city to be more innovative in environmental policy.

why is chicken doing this, and why does he need your money?

1. why is it chicken doing this, and not someone else? well, first, chicken had the idea to do it, so it’s his show. second, he is a great person for the job. he lives his ideal of art and innovation. and he is a born provocateur.

chicken has spent all of his life creating interesting and unusual performances, experiences, and events, and he does it all with no resources whatsoever, all made entirely out of junk, re-imagined by chicken into cultural treasure (see, art & innovation). i could spend many pages listing all chicken’s many spectacular accomplishments and terrific failures (ask me if you’re interested or go see his terrible website http://www.chickenjohn.com), but here are some recent things:

chicken converted his pick-up truck to run on used coffee-grounds, with zero emissions (his girlfriend runs ritual roasters, so the used coffee-grounds are free). the new york times wrote about it. for more info see: http://www.caferacercrew.com/

he built a biodiesel raft out of junk that floated down the missisippi, spreading culture and chaos. the new york times wrote it about it several times. as they described it: “Imagine if Don Quixote, Salvador Dalí and Che Guevara collaborated on a floating medicine show.”: http://www.nytimes.com/2006/08/09/arts/09arma.html?ei=5088&en=91dedd4ba9963741&ex=1312776000&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss&pagewanted=all

when chicken owned the odeon bar on mission street, every night you could go see some unlikely and sublime performance chicken had conjured up. there you might find a pancake juggler (someone chicken took in off the street), a monsters of tuba all-tuba tuba-thon (with all 40 band members staying at chicken’s house), a pirate puppet rock opera, or thai shadow performers (that chicken had met on a trip to thailand and then brought back with him to san francisco).

importantly, chicken is a borne provocateur. he has a knack for attracting attention and getting publicity. he is constantly featured in the local papers and is the cover image of the weekly or the guardian about once a year. more impressively his picture ends up in the new york times 3-4 times a year. and in different sections. sometimes it’s in the arts section. other times it’s about technology, or the environment, or politics. for a guy who dropped out of school in 7th grade and has never had a real job, it’s pretty darned impressive. he knows how do the thing that matters, that captures the imagination and gets noticed, how to say the thing that gets heard. and that’s exactly his job here. to get noticed. to start a conversation. to stir the pot.

this campaign for mayor, like all of chicken’s projects, has a guarantee of failure, but a very interesting process of arriving at that failure. like with all of chicken’s projects, i am very skeptical about it, i think it’s a bad idea and a waste of time, and at the same time i know that something wonderful will happen as a result of the experiment and i can’t wait to see what it will be.

2. why does chicken need your money?

chicken is trying to raise $25,000 for his campaign. if he manages to do so, he will qualify for 2:1 matching funds from the city of san francisco, so his campaign will have $75,000 to work with. if he makes it past this hurdle, his campaign for art and innovation can really take off.

amazingly, chicken is really close. he has raised $17,000 already. unfortunately, he only has a week left to raise the rest. so he really needs help in this final push. any small amount donated adds to the pot. this is definitely a populist effort, so any small amount is very valuable. the city will match up to $100 each sf resident donates to chicken’s campaign.

gavin newsome is running essentially unopposed this time around, so we the voters don’t get to voice any of our policy preferences at the voting booth. but this is another way to make your opinion heard. if you’d like the mayor’s office to spend more time thinking about art and innovation, then help chicken’s campaign by making a contribution. then let’s see what comes of it. i’m going to donate some money to chicken. it’s an interesting experiment.

finally, here are some words from chicken:

“There is no doubt that Gavin Newsome will be our next Mayor. But there is value in fighting the good fight even if ‘winning’ isn’t your main objective. I have engineered my entire life around the embrace of the amateur. To live life as art. Mediocrity is not an option. Samuel Beckett’s quote fills me with possibility and adventure: “Fail again. Fail better.” I honestly feel that right now San Francisco, the city of Art and Innovation, lacks whimsy. It lacks a decision making body that results in the manufacture of ‘Units of Interesting’. We need there to be more Units of Interesting. The acronym sucks, or it would be the new catch-phraze. UoI.”

you can donate at http://www.voteforchicken.com, or write a check to “vote for chicken”. if you donate using paypal, please also provide your address, occupation & place of work in the message field (this way the ethics committee knows that the money is coming from SF residents).

http://voteforchicken.com/

see you tonight….. chicken

Ele conseguiu

Aos 45 do segundo tempo, Chicken conseguiu levantar os 5000 dólares que ele precisava para colocar o nome dele na cédula eleitoral da eleição para prefeito de San Francisco. E foi entregar o “chequinho” dele em pessoa na prefeitura, onde encontrou o atual prefeito e candidato à reeleição, Gavin Newsom. Diálogo entre os dois:

Gavin: Oi Chicken, beleza? Mas o que você está fazendo aqui?

Chicken: Fala Gavin, tudo bem? Vim ver o meu futuro escritório…

Gavin (em tom professoral): Chicken, não conte o ovo no cu da galinha… (OK, tradução livre mas foi esse o espírito da coisa)

Eu também estava lá. Suando dentro de uma fantasia de gorila. Mas ninguém tirou foto. Chuif…

Comentário do meu amigo Bud Ugly sobre essa foto:

“É por coisas como essa que eu não quero ter uma TV de alta definição. Mas pelo menos agora eu tenho o número da conta dele.”

E o Chicken, sobre a experiência:

Last Friday was the deadline to file for mayor. I barely made the money. I barely figgered out (with 3 lawyers helping me) how to file the paperwork. I woke up early, washed my body, said my prayers, ate a good breakfast and rushed like a madman for the rest of the day. I filed at 4:45. The news cameras waited for me. It was odd. Pretty cool, though. I walked through city hall with an entorage of reporters that I mostly ignored. Friends were waiting at the election office and cheered. I kissed babies. I spoke in soundbites. I made eye contact. I was a screen that everyone projected their Amercia on. OK, maybe not, but I just wanted to see if you were paying attention. I walked into city hall and wanted to see Gavin’s office. I don’t know why, I just wanted to. I didn’t even know where it was, I had to ask directions. Room 200. The walls were cherry hardwood. The rug was like a casino. The confluence of colognes and perfumes in the office was surreal. It’s a stunning building. Marble everywhere. Polished. Cavernious. Vapid. It was like the ceilings were designed to maximize the sound of people screaming. I thought of a concert of bassoons playing on the steps, with old ladies tap dancing up and down the marble dias. I dressed wrong. I wore dark, should have worn light. Light is taller. I filed the papers and took everyone out for a drink. Drinks. Drunk. Fall down. Exausted. Mentally spent. Very emotional. Couldn’t sleep. Read Huck Finn. Again. How words can jump off the page like that and dance in front of your eyes. How little blips of ink on paper can create charicters so complex. Crazy people are starting to write me email. And call me. Angry people. Bizzarre people. Bring it on, city of freak flags flying high…

“I promise I won’t win”

A coisa está ficando ridícula, tudo em nome da comédia.   Chicken põe um anúncio de página inteira no Bay Guardian apelando para o prefeito pagar as contas da campanha dele. Pelo menos ele não está vendendo vacas fictícias ou usando “recursos não-contabilizados”…

Mambembe to the Max

Chicken John em um Safari. Ele e o termodinâmico e interplanetário Dr. Hal, cuja voz tambem também pode ser ouvida no videogame Halo II, para quem gosta de joguinho. Com participação especial de Zero Boy. Esse é o nosso futuro prefeito? Atente para a versão Herpes de Yesterday dos Beatles. “Yesterday, I was happy I gave you a kiss, now I can’t even take a piss…”

Isso foi semana passada na festa da Lauguing Squid. Afe…

The Chicken vs. The Wolf

O bicho vai pegar nessa segunda aqui no Chez Poulet. O Chicken vai debater com Josh Wolf, o cara que passou um ano na prisão por se recusar a entregar um vídeo para o governo federal que poderia ter ajudado a processar ativistas políticos. Não sei se ele seria um bom prefeito, mas nestes dias de Guantánamo, de cerceamento do discurso polítco, de paranóia e do estado policial que se vive neste país, o Josh é um herói para mim. Os dois estão “concorrendo” à prefeitura. Vai ser interessante, no mínimo.

 

O poster acima foi feito pelo meu amigo Kevin Evans, um artista fantástico, veterano da indústria de efeitos especiais e um cara muito legal.

 

Chicken vs Wolf

 

Mayoral debate at the Chez Poulet

 

With little more than a week before the filing deadline, mayoral candidates “Chicken John” Rinaldi and Josh Wolf have announced a joint fundraiser to help raise the necessary money to secure their status on the ballot. The highly anticipated Chicken v. Wolf debate will square off two of the most talked about, most controversial mayoral candidates and be moderated by permit consultant Jeremy Paul. The debate will feature questions from the audience and streamed live over the internet for those unable to attend. Take part in what could be the most captivating debate this campaign season this Monday at 9PM at 3359 Cesar Chavez St. (near Mission). A $10 suggested donation will be taken at the door, but supporters are encouraged to donate up to $500 to either or both candidates at the event.

 

Josh Wolf is a journalist, an activist, a blogger, and would like to be the next mayor of San Francisco. He has been involved in local politics for some time and helped manage Julian Davis campaign for District 5 Supervisor, and he is best-known for spending 226 days in a Federal Detention Center for refusing to testify about a protest he filmed as a journalist. Josh plans to create a campaign based on participatory democracy and hopes to build it as a model for the future. His platform is focused on working with the progressive board of supervisors and the community at large to solve the problems plaguing our city. He’s committed to open government and has pledged to a wear a webcam during all city business in order to eliminate backroom deals and insure accountability.

A noite em que nós salvamos o Circo.

Por volta das três da manhã:

– Cara, nós temos um problema.

– Qual deles? Há vários.

– Tem um circo na nossa sala.

Eu sorri. E não é que tinha um circo na sala mesmo? Eu estava operando a mesa de som depois da enésima cerveja, tentando não avacalhar (muito) o som da banda. Aliás, que banda. Uma belíssima seção de metais (com uma belíssima cantora, diga-se de passagem) tocando uma mistura de Klezmer com canções de cabaré à la Kurt Weil. Por uma noite, Mahagony foi aqui.

O Circus Contraption, de Seattle, está fazendo um tour pela Costa Oeste junto com o Cyclecide Bike Rodeo (mais a respeito deles em um futuro próximo). Eles tinham um show no CELLSpace marcado para a sexta, mas o CELLSpace, em toda a sua sabedoria de um coletivo de líderes sem liderança, marcou dois shows para a mesma noite. O circo corria perigo.

Não tema, com Chicken John não há problema. Porque não fazer aqui no Chez Poulet, o Galpão onde os Sonhos se Tornam Realidade?

E assim foi feito. Uma noite memorável e uma ressaca idem no dia seguinte.

o Valet Parking do Chez Poulet deixa um pouco a desejar…

Essa foto aí embaixo não é minha, é da Lane Hartwell. Mas eu botei aqui porque, bem porque… precisa explicar?

A campanha de Brancaleone

Acima, Bill the Junkman, proprietário do ferro-velho mais gente fina de San Francisco, onde eu compro todo tipo de badulaques, dando duro na campanha do Chicken. O pessoal é, digamos, um pouco inexperiente na arte da política.

Até que a campanha tem rendido uma boa dose de comédia apesar de roubar o meu sono. E eu tenho precisado dar umas boas risadas, o Ronas que o diga. O homem tem que conseguir 10.000 assinaturas para entrar no páreo. Já tem 5.000 mas só faltam mais dez dias. Será que ele consegue? Eu já vi o Chicken fazer coisas mais difíceis. Ele incorpora o Robert De Niro em Touro Indomável, quando ele quer ele faz. Faz mal feito, totalmente nas coxas, mas faz.

Cheguei ontem em casa tarde da noite do trabalho e lá estava o Chicken, com um fone de ouvido, um sanduba numa mão e com a outra tocando o meu violão que ele roubou do lugar onde eu o tinha escondido, mastigando enquanto falava com alguém ao telefone, pedaços de pão caindo pelos cantos da boca. Daí ele desligou e falou para mim:

– Acabei de falar por três horas com o Jello Biafra.
– O Jello Biafra está te dando conselhos para a campanha?
– É.
– Ótimo. Quer dizer, Deus nos ajude.

Jello Biafra é um grandissíssimo babaca. Ele é uma espécie de Bono Vox do mundo punk. Insuportável. Acabou com os Dead Kennedys. Eu adoro os Dead Kennedys, aliás ultimamente tenho começado o meu dia de trabalho com a execução do Hino Nacional da República Popular do Fiasquistão, que é “Take This Job and Shove It”. Mas Jello Biafra é um merda.

E para culminar a semana, estou lendo a minha The Economist desta semana quieto no meu canto quando quem eu vejo?
O Chicken. Pode ir lá, no fim da página 37. Não tem como escapar do homem.

Bom, hoje à noite lá vai o Chicken com o ônibus dele assustar os transeuntes e coletar assinaturas. Deus nos ajude.

from Chicken John <chickenjohn@chickenjohn.com>
to Damn List
date Jul 17, 2007 10:51 PM
subject CHICKEN: Wedensday night, 5:00 or so… we get on the bus, we go get signatures… and have fun…

Meet at the Chez Poulet, 3359 Army Street. (Cesar Chavez) at like 5:00 or so. Matthew Harman is getting people on the campain trail. We had a meeting tonight. I never knew so many people had so many opinions about BART. Or bridge traffic. John Law overdressed trying to impress a hippy. What an idiot. In the end, we hashed out Matt Gonzalezs’ campain for him, decided that small business owning was hard and Racheal gave everyone werid Italian candy. I spent 3 hours on the phone with Jello Biafra who called me to tell me that my platform should be based on police elections, legalized squats and make bankers wear clown suits. I reccomended him to Josh Wolf’s campaign. All and all, it’s been a pretty interesting day.

Please come on the bus and collect sigs with us. It’ll be fun. I promise.

OK. This Mayor thing is getting tired and it’s only been 3 weeks. I need to liven things up. My dear friend Jermey Paul intoduced me to a website that make me spit out my milk. Check this out:

You just click on the button, and create your very own SF-centric special interest group. It’s so funny, you will pee someone elses’ pants. Do it:

http://www.sfusualsuspects.com/club_generator.shtml

“Hayes Valley Muslim plant and tree sewing circle” is my favorite…

See ya tommorrow…..

chicken