In which Birdmonster wanders around Columbus, re-unites with the Talk, and tries to steer clear of some moron yelling about Black Metal

Greetings from Ohio, so few letters, so many
syllables. We're on our way to an on-air shindig at
www.woxy.com, which if you read this by 4 p.m.
Eastern time, you should definately listen to.
Definately. Definately because it was the radio
station Dustin Hoffman babbled about during Rain
Man, when Tom Cruise wasn't yet crazy enough to
eat placenta, breed centaurs, drink the blood of
the innocent, or whatever other weird shit that
guy's up to these days. I miss Top Gun Tom.

We had a fitful sleep in Columbus the night before
last and woke up in time to catch Trinidad fold to
England in the World Cup. In other words, we slept
till 1:30. After a bland breakfast, we took care of
some equipment needs and visited what I
understand is the largest university on the planet,
OSU. We spent the afternoon lounging in the sun
and bogarting their internet connection like the
ferocious dorks we've become. Pete bought Dave a
fantastic shirt too: it says "War is not the
answer" and has a picture of Allen Iverson on it.
Genius. Rather relaxing, really, which, in
retrospect, we really needed. Because the
show...well, 'twas a weird one.

Let's start by saying most everyone there was
fantastically cool. The wonders of the
aforementioned internet informed enough people of
the show that the little dungeon we played in was
fairly full. Hell, we got requests for a song we
hadn't played like for months. It was one of those
rowdy shows that just, somehow, happen. We had
a ball. Of course, there was this one guy...

Look: I'm a pretty accepting guy. Feel free to do
whatever it is that makes you happy, whether you
want to follow in Tom Cruise's footsteps and
breed centaurs, listen exclusively to Lawrence
Welk, or even root for the Lakers: fine be me. Just
don't be this guy. Don't scream at everyone all
night when what comes out your mouth is "This is
my life! I roll Black Metal, man. Fuckin BLACK
METAAAAL!" Don't tell me how much you shred,
then pick up my bass without asking and play it
like a 6th grader with down syndrome. Don't, at
any cost, act like you are in the cut scenes from
Gummo. Please.

But, like I said, he was just one guy. His black
metalness wasn't totally overwhelming, just
totally flabbergasting. Otherwise, Columbus:
thumbs up. You need to export that guy. Do the
Russians still keep their Siberian prisons open?
That'd be a good place to start.