DAY 2 Omaha, NE

I'm writing this on what is actually DAY 3 of the road life, I wasn't able to use a computer last night. Truth be told, I'm not using one now (well, i am now, but I didn't when i was writing this.*) I am in the van riding through Cornsville Nebraska. We're listening to Zach Galafinakis, it's kinda hard to focus on writing this, but that's okay because he's damn funny. We're 284 miles away from Denver, so i have plenty of time. 187 miles from Cheyenne Wyoming, where Beau worked on E. Annie Prouxl's house and came up with his band's name. or so I'm told. Okay, so on to last night, DAY 2 at the Sokol Underground in Omaha NE.

After a several hours of driving from Joplin and a stop in KC (that's Kansas City, not Kelly Clarkson*) we rolled up to the Sokol Underground in Omaha which is aptly titled, since it is in fact underground, beneath the Sokol Auditorium where bigger acts play. What we see is amazing, a line of people three thick and a couple blocks long. As we draw closer we notice that these fans aren't terribly attractive. You know, trying too hard, unsure, dressed badly. Knowing full well when they're at home prepping pre-show that other like minded fans have the warewithall to go through just as much difficult preparation, thus validating their attempt to look alternatively different (read: samely homogenized.) These fans were not for us. Nor for any of the other bands we were playing with. these fans with their faces painted, bondage pants, girlfriends with bear guts and sports bras, were there for the Kotton Mouth Kings. This gross realization came quickly and with a little nausea, had the same effect of thirstilly drinking down a large glass of lemonade realized with your head at the fully cocked position the drowned fly racing towards gullet.
In case you don't know, Dumb weed culture revolves around these kinds band. they call themselves Juggalos They live for this shit, and in a most literal sense. One of those surrealist social phenomenons like Branch Dividians except more committed and seemingly more gullible. And typically less attractive. I know I sound harsh, but this isn't music, it's a cult of unreal proportions. Creepy creepy creepy. After having our hope of block long lines crushed, and talking to the very unhelpful and bombed out KMK road crew, we had to load in through the line of Juggalos and Juggalettes. There's nothing more ironic than having a 14 year olds wit their faces painted like demented clowns point and laugh at me and take pictures while taking pictures of me with their cell phones. They act like they've never seen a dude with Big glasses and Daisy Dukes on. I shudder at the thought of how many Juggablogs my picture made it onto last night after the show.
after we loaded in, jude and i decided to take a walk around the block, check out Omaha a little. We started walking around the side, where one of the lines formed. As we're strolling and chatting, Jude all of the sudden looks down and says with a little bit of constrained shock in his voice "dude, that's gross." i looked down just in time to not step into an open faced and very used pad staring straight up at me. Within a few steps it hit us how incredibly disgusting that was. How that could have possibly happened, who could have possibly done that. They didn't wash their hands. Did they reapply? It would have stuck to my foot! Holy dammy, that was more then we could handle.
the show went good, each show (i guess this is just the third) feels better and better. i'm getting pretty good at selling merch.
After the show, we stayed with some nice dudes, Scott almost passed out because one of the dudes was giving himself an insulin shot in the kitchen. That was pretty hilarious. Now we're in denver, i'm layin on the floor of my sister Emily's living room watching saved! with Jude. Scott and Sammy are asleep on the hideaway. What a bunch of cuties. but this part of the post has to be a part of DAY 3 Denver, CO.

*does that even make sense?
**Hey, c'mon, don't be gross.