Oh dear, my brain is turning to jelly. Delicious hickory-fired pork-flavored jelly.
Ends up I drank more last night than I realized. I may or may not have been crank calling my editors, I definitely bought three or four rounds of beer for Howlin' Rain. (At six bucks a pop. Math. Ouch.) And I think I may have even enjoyed the tacky trance of DJ Tiesto. It's been a weird fucking weekend—a Canadian firefighter in a mail truck sorta weekend.
I copped that that Canadian postage joke from Louis C.K., who may just be the funniest man ever. I know I've been talking about Pootie Tang a lot lately, but it's a seriously underrated film, which—in my humble opinion—is fucking brilliant, and Louis C.K. is the mastermind. His routine was hilarious, a brilliant combination of toddlers-crappin'-on-the-floor and masturbation jokes—some seriously crude, scathing wonderful shit. And it was air-conditioned, which always rules.
Sharon Jones was amazing, as always—a perfect soundtrack for a sunny Saturday afternoon. Jypsi ended up parking their truck next to our grill, but we only got to catch a tiny bit of their set since the Bonnaroo staff did such a wonderful job of cramming too many great bands into one hour.
Oh, and before I forget: Against Me! have officially reinvented Axl Rose—everything that made them a mind-blowing rock machine in the tiny, tiny rooms of the D.I.Y. punk circuit works even better when they're playing to a huge crowd of sweaty, sun-drenched hedonists. Sada-Tay!
And one more thing. This guy is my new hero:
I don't think you can see his pecker in this shot, but he totally pissed all over the road cases in front of the whole crowd during Howlin' Rain. I have so much to learn....