Regression

I feel like partyin' on a beach with rocket launchers, napalm and hookers. It would eternally rain and we'd be humping our weapons on a desert island, waiting for a ship to pass by, aiming at it and making it drown in flames. We could raise a few hippies, have some zombie fights for entertainment, and I would forever delay the payment of the prostitutes' services.

Spring is not going to happen here, it seems. We'll have to move to Miami or something, if we still care for some sun. I crave for heat, I long for summer, and it will probably abruptly come up on June 21st, with no transition whatsoever. It was snowing downtown, earlier. Big golf balls of white shit splattering everybody's face. Sorry buddy, my tuque and mitts are locked away until next year, and there's no fuckin' way I'm bringing them back.

Seriously, we need some nice weather. After a shitty winter like the one we just went through, everything's grey, and my moral, personally, could be better. Nothing depressing is going on in my life, but winter dragged me so low that I need a strong hook to bring me back up. And there ain't no pirate that's gonna lay his hands on me, so find something else.

If things do not change around here, I'm moving. Tell Mother Nature, that slut. Montreal will lose a good element. I'll take my friends with me, all my belongings, my wisdom, and my car that won't start. We'll go to my desert island and start the aforementioned party. The party will never stop. It will be like the Dead Milkmen's "Beach Party Vietnam", only crazier. Cass & Mangan will come visit and do a DJ set. We'll be able to let the volume go as high as we can because, well, we won't have any neighbors.

And once summer's here, we'll come back in town to haunt you.

*

You know what The World is, right ?

Or you THINK you know. When in fact you don't. Think big. Then think bigger.

Think artificial islands in the middle of nowhere. Think Dubai. Think about an island you can buy and own, and let's say it would be named Belgium. Or Croatia. Or fuckin' Australia.



Some promoters in Dubai have thought about it, and they also made it happen, which is a big step ahead of you or me. And then the sales begun. Some big name celebrities are starting to buy their own islands, and will build a house on them. They'll have their own little universe of rich islanders, which is better than a gated community if you think about it. And if we ever get tired of seeing them flash their money around, a couple of torpedoes should do the trick.

Who knows, I could even fire them from my own private desert island during one of these infamous, cocaine-fulled parties...