Click here to have lunch with Treat Williams.
Hello everybody. It's a cool and breezy 71 degrees here in Los Angeles. I'm feeling pretty good because I usually overheat for at least twelve of the twenty four hours in a day. I tell ya... it's like some voodoo witch put a curse on my mother's mother or something. The way I see it, someone somewhere in my bloodline did something so fucking stupid that it caused some black magic motherfucker to hold a voodoo doll over an open flame. As a result, I find myself wishing that I could just turn into a ball of fire or maybe shoot magma out of my hands. Instead, I just remain at such a warm temperature that I'm sure I could certainly warm a frostbite victim if I happened to be out and about and came across one. Maybe it's because I have to wear a suit all day. Not just any suit either. This is a special suit made from only the finest burlap and the lining is made from chewbacca fur. Actually it isn't. It's really just a thick, black and supposedly " police grade" sport coat. Now I understand why Crocket and Tubbs wore those flimsy little linen numbers. Beat the heat, right? Whatever... I just hate the fuckin' summer. I love the snow and I wish there were more of it out here, but I couldn't live in one of those "ski towns." I'd go nuts. I'd probably puke into my scarf if I had to look at people in ski pants all damn day. Earmuffs for eyepatches, you know?
Man, I sure can get into some ramblin' can't I?
I know it's been a while since my last message out, but I'm sure we'll all still be friends. After all, how am I gonna get home?
I wanna tell you that I've been out rockin' and rollin' all over town, gettin' into some flick knife fights after I suspected a cheater of cheatin' at a game of pinball, and doin' some other dirt that I couldn't even tell you about, but the truth is that I've just been busting my ass at work and trying to raise a family. It's no small job. I'm plum tuckered out.
I broke a guitar string about an hour ago. I was trying to play "Stormy weather" and the shit just popped out. It didn't even snap. It kind of "jumped" off the guitar as if it was trying to get away. All I could do was laugh. Come to think about it, laughing is all I do. I'm not sure when the last time was that I actually took something serious. I'm not concerned. It's more than a phase though.
Okay, enough of that for now.
I haven't posted any albums for a while because I've just been listening to stuff a lot more these days. That said, I want to share with you today. Please enjoy a collection of beautiful tunes made for beautiful goons.
It's called " We can fuck or we can fight Volume 1." and is certifiably guaranteed to shake your ass across your momma's rug!
Track list in the comments!