The Monkey King's Used Primate Emporium and Book Reviews

Jonathan Safran Foer, �Everything Is Illuminated�

Well, it sort of makes sense to review this book, as I have a large timeline to cover and I think it will be all jumbled up. Though if you haven�t read the book, that reference isn�t going to matter to you. And no, it doesn�t count if you watched the movie, even though I liked it. They just left too much stuff off, though I don�t have the slightest idea on how they should have incorporated the missing parts, so my suggestions would be about as useful as tits on a fish.

I like tits and find them useful, so that�s saying something.

But anyway, strange things are afoot. I neglected to mention that I had another piece put in the weekly paper, and since that one was published, I�ve had another one printed.

They like me, they really like me!

The downside of this is that anyone who thinks it�s cool that I go to bars and clubs and get paid to write about it, can now suck my cock. Because that first review � the dance club with �Moose� in the name? My god. That was the eleventh circle of hell, and I was in the middle of it. Worse, I was in there having a terrible time, writing snarky comment after snarky comment in my notepad when I remembered that my editor�s first correspondence with me said they were looking for somebody who could write objectively, even if they were out of their element.

I don�t know, I still think I made it clear that I don�t like the place, but it�s more objective than my first draft, which called for burning the place to the ground, with all the participants still inside.

Weirder still, the new issue has my story listed on the jump head on the cover. For those not in the journalism know, what that means is they have their top story listed on the cover, then they list the �hot� stories found within, attempting to convince you to pick up a copy and peek inside. I�d be flattered, except for the fact that it�s a free periodical, so the fact that they have to try to convince people to pick it up speaks volumes.

Second, the fact that our island is a deadly toxic sewage combination, starting the jokes about living in �Honolu-poo,� near �Why-pee-pee� beach, I think, is a little more newsworthy. In addition, Time magazine declared our senator one of the five worst in the nation, making me think my article on a pizza and beer joint really isn�t all that important in the general scheme of things. But hey, I�m still flattered.

But again, it all fits in with the weird week or so I�ve had. (Surprise!) The first thing I should report, I suppose, is that my birthday passed, and I didn�t break anything this time, thank sweet fucking merciful vicodin.

My actual birthday this year lay on a Monday, though I didn�t bother to tell anybody that, as there isn�t anything interesting that happens on a Monday. Somewhere around ten p.m. on my actual birthday, I decided to go out, figuring it was some sort of weird requirement. I ended up at a small dive bar that had four people inside total, including me. The other patrons included two girls who stuffed the jukebox with the worst imaginable songs for my entire stay.

I am not kidding. Imagine walking in to the sounds of The Carpenters. From there it went to Hall and Oates, to whomever does that �Leaving on a Jet Plane� song. (The female version, not John Denver, though that would have been just as bad.) When that was done, we moved to Air Supply.

At one point, one of the girls looked over to me, head in my hands, and asked what was wrong. �Well, imagine this was your birthday,� I said.

�It�s your birthday?�

�I didn�t say that,� I said. �But imagine that it was my birthday, and I showed up at this shitty dive bar by myself, and this is what I�m greeted with. And then I�m forced to realize that yes, I am in fact, all out of love.�

So I knew I was hosting the punk rock Deejay night three days later. And I advertised the event as being my birthday, which I don�t feel bad for misleading the public with. You know why? Because when Bob Dole ran against Clinton, the media discovered Dole had lied about his age, whereupon he claimed to be three years younger than his actual age. When confronted with the evidence, Dole said he spent three years in a Veteran�s hospital recovering from wounds, and he considered the time spent there as �wasted hours,� and therefore didn�t like to include in his timeline.

I didn�t do crap for the last three days, so if it works for him...

Of course, he lost the election, so perhaps I need a better example.

In the meantime, The Bouncing Souls played at the club I work at last week. I was excited in the first place, because it meant a band that I knew and liked was playing. I got more excited when I saw the crowd and as it turned out, we were so busy, I�m not positive the Bouncing Souls ever actually played. What I do know, however, is that I made a whopping $270 in tips during that show. I still have bruises from that evening from running my ass off to fetch overpriced PBR�s.

And dear god, we need more of these bands like Rancid and No Use for a Name to come through. I figure enough of them stayed at my house during the lean years, so now it�s time for some payback.

But I suppose I digress, dickweed.

So last night, I had my birthday party. I�ll end the post with the playlist for the dorks, but first...

Oh yeah, first. Last weekend, to make things even more surreal, I found myself recruited.

Recruiters always fascinated me, probably because I was never amongst those harassed and badgered. I would walk slowly past the military recruiters in high school and later at the community college, hoping for that opening line, simply so I could start a diatribe about how they sucked, but never got the opportunity. I welcomed Mormons and Jehovah�s Witnesses into my home without a second thought, just for the chance to debate. I visited the cult restaurants, and never got anything more than the menu and the bill.

Then, just last week, a girl came up to the bar asking for me. After introductions were made she showed me literature for Hawaii Pacific University and asked if I was committed to attending their rival, in the form of the University of Hawaii.

I can only assume, but I think this is the same stuff that Kobe Bryant and Shaq went through, except this time there weren�t any rape charges involved.

In any case, she gave me the literature and forms and said goodbye. After a few of my drinks she started hitting on me, proof that alcohol clouds your judgement. I don�t know.

And I suppose I really don�t know, because I haven�t figured out the crowd that comes to my deejay night. They seem to enjoy it. I watch people from behind my little booth (and it�s hard to do otherwise, as punk songs are too short to try and leave the booth to socialize, or even use the bathroom). But we opened up tonight at nine, and almost immediately afterward about 12 people walked in. I took that as a sign that it would be a good night.

It seemed like it would be, but after 45 minutes or so it was like somebody snapped their fingers and that made everybody leave at the same time. It took another half-hour before anybody walked in again. But they did, and they brought friends. People even danced, and a lot of people bought me beers, making me feel that, yes, I have a few friends on the island.

On my birthday, anyway.

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(Boring playlist of records played for my birthday DJ night follows. Feel free to skip. By the way, this is alphabetical, not the order of the albums I played. Though I thought that would be obvious, bozo.)
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• Adolescents: Amoeba
  
• Agent Orange: Bloodstains
  
• Alice Donut: Everyone�s for Sale, Roaches in the Sink, Tiny Little World
  
• Anti-Flag: Angry, Young and Poor
  
• Avengers: Paint it Black
  
• Bad Religion: No Control
  
• The Bananas: Disappear
  
• Beastie Boys: Hey Ladies
  
• Black Flag: Jealous Again, TV Party,
  
• Born Against: The Good Father
  
• James Brown: I�m Black and I�m Proud
  
• Capitol Punishment: Two Hands
  
• Christ on a Crutch: Nation of Sheep
  
• Circle Jerks: World Up My Ass
  
• The Clash: The Guns of Brixton
  
• Crass: Do They Owe Us a Living?
  
• Crimpshrine: Along the Way
  
• Dead Kennedys: Chickenshit Conformist, Moon over Marin
  
• Descendents: Bikeage
  
• Devo: Uncontrollable Urge
  
• DI: Richard Hung Himself
  
• Dickies: If Stuart Could Talk
  
• Diesel Queens: Liposuction
  
• DRI: Sad to Be
  
• False Prophets: Marat/Sade
  
• Fleshies: South Miami Beach
  
• Flogging Molly: If I Ever Leave This World Alive
  
• Fuckboys: Nurse
  
• Fugazi: Waiting Room
  
• The Gits: A Change is Gonna Come, Whirlwind
  
• Grimple: Vivisick
  
• Grinch: No Mouth to Scream
  
• The Hanson Brothers: Go Away
  
• Hellworms: Master Manipulator
  
• Hickey: California Redemption
  
• Idiot Bitch: It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time
  
• Iggy and the Stooges: Search and Destroy
  
• Ill Repute: Book and its Cover
  
• Jack Acid: Lonely
  
• Jawbreaker: Boxcar, Jinx Removing
  
• Madness: One Step Beyond*
  
• Minor Threat: Stepping Stone
  
• Minutemen: Jesus and Tequila
  
• The Muffs: Red Eyed Troll
  
• Murphy�s Law: Beer
  
• Naked Agression: Killing Floor
  
• Naked Raygun: Wonder Beer
  
• Nitwits: Mad Rats
  
• NOFX: Doornails***, Medio-core,** The Moron Brothers
  
• Nomeansno: I�m an Asshole, Rags and Bones
  
• Operation Ivy: Officer
  
• Pegboy: Strong Reaction
  
• The Police: Synchronicity II
  
• Propagandhi: Die Jugend Marschiert***
  
• Ramones: Bonzo Goes to Bitburg*
  
• The Real Mckenzies: �Cross the Ocean**
  
• RKL: Scab on my Brain
  
• Samiam: Clean
  
• Schlong: I Feel Pretty (People request this now, how fucked up is that?)
  
• Screeching Weasel: This Ain�t Hawaii
  
• Selecter: Too Much Pressure*
  
• Sex Pistols, God Save the Queen*
  
• The Simpletones: I Like Drugs
  
• Social Distortion: Ball and Chain, Mommy�s Little Monster
  
• The Soviettes: Multiply and Divide**
  
• The Specials; Nite Klub
  
• Stiff Little Fingers: Nobody�s Hero
  
• Stikky: Cheese is Still Fantastic
  
• Suicidal Tendencies: Suicidal Failure
  
• Supersuckers: Pretty Fucked Up, Sugie
  
• Swiz: Taste
  
• Talking Heads: Psycho Killer
  
• Tilt: Berkeley Pier
  
• Toxic Reasons: No Pity
  
• Toy Dolls: Dig That Groove Baby
  
• TSOL: Abolish Government/Silent Majority, Weathered Statues
  
• Tsunami Bomb: Lemonade
  
• Vandals: Ladykiller, Summer Lovin�
  
• Victim�s Family: Devon Drool, Insidious, Things I Hate to Admit
  
• Vindictives: In Pursuit
  
• Violent Femmes: Add It Up
  
• Tom Waits: Jockey full of Bourbon
  
• Whiskey Sunday: Maddest Cow
  
• X: nausea*
  
• Your Mother: Greg, Ex-Masturbator, Happy Birthday (Shameless plug to get more beer)
  
• Youth Brigade: Man in Blue
  
• Zero Hour: The Balance