Fried potatoes

So I'm sitting in this vast kitchen cooking german fried potatoes- dill, mustard in the fry- damn good -and I'm so pleased I've got the Foo's on. I am clearly addicted to rock as much as anything else, and even this tinny mac makes me feel better, so much better I bought a very expensive Tivoli radio system over the internet to salve the soul when I get home just to listen to the Chelsea games. I guess that's like ordering your crack in advance as you speed back from Saudi Arabia.

What is it about rock? Well even though I'm really ready for tweeds (I'll be fully tweeded for the new academic year (NAY) - Berlin rather good for such stuff, I'd just love to throw all those philosophers I've been trying to understand for a month into the middle of a Foo's concert, get them pissed on big JD's on the rocks, and ROCK! Rock till you die, just like the crappy tee shirts say (look up the first post I ever made on this thing - the ACADACADEMICS! It embarrassing, but it's real. My brother (nearly sixty) is the same.

And there would be no rock n' roll without capitalism- cause and effect- so we should all be careful what we wish for.

luv to ya all.