Days of Lore
Rotts of love
I have made the greatest discovery. I now have the power to channel my immediate thoughts into this column with a tiny chip placed … well where it’s located isn’t important—it’s a little pickup I made before I left the year 2020. So what you are reading is a live account of my adventures through time … as they happen. I know. You’re excited.
Right now I’m feeling a bit queasy, and I don’t think it’s from the Rott dog I ate. (Mad Cow Disease decimated the beef supply, leaving Rottweiler as the main source of meat in this country. It sounds gross, but if you add lots of mustard, a little ketchup and some chopped onions, it’s a tasty and ironic snack). No, I’m feeling a bit ill because I’m spiraling through a wormhole, this time to the year 2525. (I’m sorta partial to the Zager and Evans song: “In the year 2525 / If man is still alive … “)
Like I said last week, I’m a little nervous about going too far ahead, but I left the year 2020 still wondering what the hell I was doing with my life in the future, since discovering that Makai vocalist Brandon Squyres had taken over as arts editor at the CN&R.
I’ve decided to return to Chico to see if I can find somebody I know, someone close who I could confide in, to give me some answers. The anticipation is enough to get that Rott dog a-barkin'. I also have to be careful not to run into the wrong people … or worse, myself. I must not disrupt the space-time continuum! And what if my life has taken a wrong turn, and I find out I’m serving up Rott dogs and stale Budweiser (Bud will never die!) at the local fair? Hmm … that actually doesn’t sound half bad.
No more bush!
I’m hiding the time machine, which looks beat up and pathetic, in some bushes off The Skyway just east of town. There isn’t much shrubbery since all of the development has essentially left Chico connected to Paradise. Good God! The Skyway is now lined with strip malls … and a lot of vegetarian eateries. Guess most people aren’t too keen on eating dog. (More for me!) Hey, the baseball stadium!
Why the French hate Americans
Now I know a crowded baseball game is probably the worst place I could possibly go. But I proceed toward the entrance, and I …
“Bonjour, Mark Lore! Is that you?”
This could be bad. It’s … Henri Bourride?!?
“You haven’t aged a bit. What are you doing in town? Last I heard you were writing romance novels and living in Spain with your beautiful wife.”
“Um, yeah … I’m just … umm … back visiting some friends.” (I’m going along with it.) “I’m just headed to the … “ (Looking up to find the team’s name on the sign) “ … Chico Dog Killers‘ game.”
They named the team after the much beloved, old-school Chico punk band—love it!
Henri is still talking, but I can’t hear a word he says. All I’m thinking about is Spain. Romance novels. And beautiful wives.
“Au Revoir, Henri. I have to go do something … with the thing.”
I know … très rude. But I have bigger poisson to sauté. End transmission.
I saw them way before you!
Since all you people back in the year 2007 are expecting something relevant in this column (Ha! Haha! Hahahaha! Ha! Eh …), I’m going to give it to you. There are a few shows of note coming up. And since I have already seen them, I can tell you not only when they’re happening, but if they were good or not.
Billy Bob Thornton will play at Sierra Nevada‘s Big Room Thurs., Aug. 23. OK, it’s sold out, but I can go back in time and get you some tickets for a small fee. Let me tell you, the show was great, and he didn’t get too pissed off when I drank all his Budweiser backstage and asked him an inappropriate question about Angelina Jolie‘s birthmark.
Oh, and JMAX (who’s putting on some great shows) will bring Bright Eyes to the Senator Theatre, Mon., Sept. 24. It was a great night. And another hot one. The humidity from all the emo kids crying during “First Day of My Life” didn’t help matters. I’ll admit it: I cried. But I’ve got a hot wife in Spain!