The Easily Offended. They're Everywhere.

I long ago gave up expressing even the most benign opinions on Facebook because there are legions of people out there - presumably sitting in front of their device in their underwear, Cheeto dust staining their t-shirt - who are looking for something they can be offended by. I have shit to do, and I don't have time to deal with the chronically offended. However, I have far fewer Twitter followers than Facebook followers, so it is there that I occasionally opine with impunity. So please follow me on Twitter so I can one day reach my goal of not being able to say anything of substance there as well. Thank you.

A Hundred-and-Fuck Degrees

Tonight it's a hundred-and-fuck degrees, the AC is out, the water is running intermittently, and the Internet is dial-up slow. I probably should be angry, but instead I am feeling nostalgic about the late 90s and our old little pad at King's Road Apartments in West Hollywood, where it was always like this, and we didn't care. We had each other, a couple of cats, and a roof over our heads. And love was enough.

Absolute, Quintessential Karen Nash

My good friend Scott Phillips​ (he of the fabulous design that envelopes each of my CDs and records) told me this story about my wife, Karen Nash​:

Years ago, late '90s, I was in a meeting in my office with some clients. We were waiting for someone else to call my office to attend via speaker phone. The phone rang, I answered on speaker. It was Nash. She yelled out "Phillips!" I said hello, told her she was on speaker and I was in a conference with clients. There was a pause. Then she called out "fuck them!"

It's everything you need to know.