white dudes into steely dan

i got an ipod for my birthday. that's some real cool shit. that's the kind of shit that makes skinny white dudes, who are into steely dan, say things like, "you can really crank out the tunes." the only problem is i have poorly designed ears. it's like the universe let the guy who invented blue-blockers shape my ears because i can't get those insert headphones to fit. it never fails. it doesn't matter the make, doesn't matter the model. doesn't matter if steve jobs shit my pair headphones out of his goldbricking ass. they don't fit. and like it's onle ONE that doesn't fit. one sits in my ear comfortable and the other presses in ackward directions causing my ear to get soar and red. i fiddle with it like some manic squirrel trying to jam one more lithium pill into his overstocked tree trunk. i'll be listening to some crazy shit and then it'll dawn on me that i have a throbbing headache from this earphone pressing against my ear. it's crazy.

speaking of steely dan and white dudes. a couple of weeks ago my boy sean came up from northern california with his girl, her name is andrea. anyways, i'm using their real names because no one's famous and no one gives a damn. so we go up to universal city walk which is like a giant, cheap, flashy cruiship sitting atop burbank. but that's where you go in LA when you're a 'WoodRat and a nobody without a lot of dough. so we went to BB king's BBQ pit or whatever it's called. i figured this'd be a real hot ticket because, like it'll be loud blues music, busty black women, and deep fried pickle chips. how could one go wrong? so we're sitting upstairs. we order sausage and other kinds of arterie-hardening fare. and like we're listening to some black crooner named aaron ruin all of stevie wonder's songs. he was really bad and he was older so you knew it was never going to happen for him. anyways, he bows out. and the place is packed like sardines. and then they announce the main event: steely dan. all the black patrons looked around for the son of a bitch that just scammed them. sure enough steely dan took the stage. steely or dan, i can't tell who is what, except that someone on the stage looked like darryl hall, anyways, he's wearing a flesh colored shirt so he looks topless. and people start screaming and order double whatever they were drinking before. and they belted out all that crazy stuff. you know, that don't lose my number song. god damn i thought. how many times had these wine-bags drooled out that old number. i thought i was at some classic rock radio station that called itself "arrow ninety-five point five." then i saw them. two white dudes. they were standing 11 o'clock, near the balcony. their heads were moving like someone had injected their neck with silly puddy from a giant clown needle. they were into it. they were mouthing all the words lost in their white world of rock. it was fascinating. i'm not black, but this was just fascinating to me anyways. i wanted to follow these guys. i wanted to be their "pal." i wanted to "hang" and be "buds." i wanted to know their rituals. i wanted to get macfarlane on the phone and describe them word by word, so he could cook up a couple of figures. complete with "righteous bucks" quotes and an mgd genuine draft grip. i wanted to know their language. i wanted to be like jane goodall and blend in so that i could write very accurate notes on their peculiar ways. these guys were casual fridays kind of guys, the kind of guys that called pussy "beaver." they were "hot for teacher" if you know what i mean. bill and gus. or was it ted and steve? i'll never know. just like i'll never know the difference between steely and dan. god bless america.