Ask RM a Question

[Bammer]

Even the whitest man on earth can't say no to brinjal chutney.

What say you bammer

Where is this coming from

[spike]

Hey RM, Jamie Lee Curtis says there should be more day-time concerts to accommodate people like her who go to bed early and for this and other reasons find it difficult to attend night time concerts. Do you think there should be more day-time concerts? I think it's a good idea, being a person with two young children. I guess it makes sense that artists tend to prefer late night drunken/drugged up party atmosphere audiences and the use of their lights and smoke and stuff.

Who started the late concert trend anyway? The Stones?

[doug rr]

I'm all for a 10am show...cant stay up past 8 anymore

[bodysnatcher]

Bunch of geezers

[doug rr]

this is why I love the west coast for 10am nfl games...7pm first pitch games are crazy to me now

[tree_]

The last couple concerts I went to, Tool and The National, by the time they were over, I was very much ready for bed. To the point I didn't even enjoy the last couple of songs very much. Straight back to the hotel room and right to bed. It would be nice to have some time awake after the show's over to like, walk around and talk about the show and stuff. Or, like, maybe I could drive home after instead of getting a hotel. That'd be nice.

[BurtReynolds]

Old

[tree_]

you really must not have any idea what it's like to be an active father of two young children

[Chris_H_2]

you really must not have any idea what it's like to be an active father of two young children

I do. And you still sound super old.

[tree_]

IDGAF Chris!

[spike]

Nothing good happens after 9pm

[Coach]

congrats dad!

[Monkey_Driven]

Bunch of geezers

[Higgs]

Bunch of geezers

Absolutely.

you really must not have any idea what it's like to be an active father of two young children

I do. And you still sound super old.

When I had 2 young kids I was always looking for opportunities to get away and grab some me time. A concert meant baby sitters (or even better, sleep over at Grandma's), pre-drinks, post-drinks and ideally sex.

[Bammer]

I do most of my sex in the afternoon

[Higgs]

I do most of my sex in the afternoon

Sky rockets in flight?

[Jorge]

Speaking with some friends, we were all kind of weirded out that American kids in movies and TV kiss their older relatives on the lips. Is this very common, or more of an old-fashioned thing? Did you kiss your parents and aunts and uncles on the lips growing up? Does it weird you out now? Does it weird you out that it weirds us out?

[lennytheweedwhacker]

I've never done it. It would feel weird and not just because most any form of human contact is foreign to me.

[The Argonaut]

I have been kissed by American children. I didn't love it!

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.