Smoke Signal video release story
Before I get too carried away with the awesomeness and ΓΌber coolness that is Sasquatch (and by the way, did Uber really have to choose a name with an umlauted letter? Stupidifying the world, I suppose), I'll get on with the story. The show and album review will be coming soon enough to this same bat channel.
Anyway, I needed some new batteries for my recorder, so we went to the place where people always buy batteries: the liquor store on the corner. I sort of thought that batteries might be a big seller there, but the clerk indicated that most of their sales fell into the "dime-store hooch" category. Who knew?
Walking back to the club, admiring the cyclone wire surrounding a decrepit old building just a block or two from where we planned our illegal jaywalking attempt, Jim heard the familiar scrape–scrape of badly bearing'ed skateboard wheels slicing through the grit of an LA sidewalk. Always gentlemen to a fault, we slid to the side to let our new friend cruise by. A rat-haired tike of about 35 years, and looking a bit worse for wear, he turned and said thanks as he rolled through—and promptly face-planted into the dirt to the right of his skateboarder arterial.
We thought he might be dead, but he was just stunned (the alcohol may have broken the fall). We helped him up, and then he decided we were new friends for life, which seemed a bit personal for us. Then he asked us if we believed in God.
"Nope."
"Nope. Not me either."
"Wow. Both of you, huh? Well, God's everywhere, you know? Always looking out for us."
"That seems to be working out pretty well for you so far."
He looked bewildered, then high-fived each of us.
"See you guys again soon."
We scurried across the street to the venue, like rats in an attic. Halloween comes early in LA, you know.
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