Notes from the Underground Volume 1 Number 8 - I had the strangest dream Hey y'all - It's your globetrotting vegan anarchist confidante, Crazy Pete, shouting out at ya from the sunny environs of the City of Angels, the City of Broken Dreams, Silicon Implant Valley, you got that right, people - Los Angeles! Yes, I arrived safely, if not odiferously (thank you, trusty thesaurus!), after spending approximately three days in a Bondo-and-duct-tape-encased 1969 Pontiac GTO with a bunch of my left-leaning and deodorant-eschewing comrades. Whew - if we could've somehow bottled the fumes from within the GTO, those alone could've probably fueled our safari. By the way, those crystal deodorant thingys allegedly used by ancient Aztecs or pre-Columbian tribes or Druids or whoever don't work a damn after day one in the family roadster. Then again, I don't think the ancient Aztecs ever put the crystal powers through quite the same strain that we did. Anyway, the less said about that the better. Onward and upward, people! (Just thank yourself that this website doesn't have Smell-O-Vision.) So you may be asking yourself, Why did Crazy Pete go to L.A? To get some last minute liposuction? To get discovered at a wheat juice stand? To fulfill his lifelong ambition of becoming the world's first vegan anarchist porn star? Nope. I went to L.A. to do what I always do: shake things up. Why, pray tell, would I have to venture all the way to L.A. to do this when I can do it just as easily from my home base? Because the Republican Party choose La La Land in which to convention, and, as much as I usually would avoid right-wing gun-toting reactionaries from Boise (I mean, that's what family reunions are for), somehow it just sounded like the place to be. Also, I'll get a chance to do some hand shaking and baby kissing for my own campaign while I'm here. Crazy Pete in 2000! Woo woo! Anyway, so the trip was a trip. Owl came along of course, 'cause he's my press secretary and everything. The deal is that he doesn't believe in computers or e-mail or faxes or cell phones or anything like that, so the campaign's taken on something of a Luddite feel. That's not what I intended, but, hey, that's a whole new demographic for me, right? No one else is really trying to appeal to the Luddites, and that's where I come in. Also along was Owl's girlfriend Daisy, who broke up with him in Iowa because Owl kept eating all of the cashews out of the trail mix, so Daisy accused Owl of having a fundamentally bourgeois nature. Daisy and I started seeing each other in Nebraska and Colorado - I just grab a handful of trail mix and eat whatever I get - but then she worked out her differences with Owl in Utah. That made Nevada a little uncomfortable, but we've all resolved everything. No biggie. Anyway, they're a happy couple again. And our buddy Raven also came along 'cause he heard that an old roommate of his who bailed on him and stuck him without his share of the rent (plus he took a couple of Raven's t-shirts) two years ago ended up in Southern California somewhere. So Raven thought that he might run into him out here and get his money and t-shirts back. Oh, in addition to the four of us, we picked up this hitchhiker in Salt Lake City, who ended up being kind of a nut and he was creeping us all out, so he just rode with us for a few hours. He kind of looked like Charles Manson, but, you know, without the swastika or followers. Never a good sign, nonetheless. So now here we are crashing at Owl's cousin's friend's pad while he's gone on vacation in the Bahamas using the settlement he got from a colonic injury. The problem is that there's totally nothing going on. I'm ready for action, but I haven't seen one single protest or anything except on the news. They must be doing them super early in the morning or something 'cause as soon as I get to the Staples Center, usually in the afternoon, it's totally deserted. Not a single soul. It's kinda creepy. I don't get it. Owl and Daisy are still honeymoon phase of their "new" romance, and Raven's preoccupied with trying to find this loser ex-roommate of his, so they're really not really into it, and they don't help me get up early to get to any marches or protests. I may have to set an alarm or something. Oh well. Anyway, I just thought that I'd drop y'all a line and let you know what was going on. Maybe by tomorrow you'll see my mug on CBS evening news or whatever! Ya never know. Anyway, don't forget to write in my name, Crazy Pete, in the December presidential elections, okay? Cool!   Postscript - Dudes, as you may have guessed, the convention was not in LA like I thought, but in Philly. Oops. That sorta explains my confusion though. Anyway, once we figured out what was going on, we headed back to Chicago. Okay, that kinda sucks because then we found out the Democratic National Conference is going on in LA like soon. Whatever. I'm gonna go take a nap. Catch ya later. Crazy Pete

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