Archie Kobain

Ay oh,
 whey oh,
ay aaay oh,
whey oh…

Greetings and salutaions on this fine Friday.

I need a b**ch with the right amount of skank,
score me an 8-ball and help me turn crank

Note: Stonsey is the black guy. I’m Eminem.

Before going any further, I think we have to handle some “viewer mail”…

Viewer Mail

Dear Archie,
Your blog speaks to me.

No. It really doesn’t.  Don’t forget my usual disclaimer. This isn’t about you, me, us, the dog, or the cat (who knew how to play fetch).  I’m not speaking to you, about you, or at you.  I’m just rambling. Don’t try this at home. Your results may vary.

Dear Archie,
You are so random.

No. Nothing on this show here happens by accident. We have a whole team of people working on make-up, special effect, and the research department.  Oh, plese don’t forget the research department.  I may be the most delibarate person you’ve never met.(..or a compulsive liar). 

Hey stranger…
I find your Archie Kobain blogs very “interesting”??

What are you doing later?  Come to Tortola, immediately.

Rock on Archie Weather dude.

Aloha, Spicoli.

OK. That should be enough for now.
Let’s break for this questionable Sweedish remake of a classic Slade song…

Yikes!
If we’re going to destroy a song, I can do it myself on my new Canjo…

You know what I want to talk about?  The relativity of money.
I don’t think I want to talk about it today. I need time to compose a nice article.
Maybe in two weeks.  In the meantime, if you have $1500 that you can afford to lose…

Now I’ll send you all this message in code,
underground, over mountains,
through forests and deserts and cities.

Buy: SNDXF

So…  Guess how many Irish redheads contacted me after last week’s blog entry?
No…seriously, guess?  Where’s Barnsley, he’ll guess?  Oh, no wait.  He already knows.
He was on phone duty. OK, you guess??? 

I can tell, you’re afraid to guess too low. That won’t be an issue.
Well, I quote Graham Parker…

Fumble with the money and fumble with the keys,
Somebody has to end up on his knees.
Go to a funeral dressed in pink,
Stop to love and not stop to think.
Big Fat Zero
Big Fat Zero
Big Fat Zero

That’s right, Big Fat Zero.
Although there were reports of higher-than-normal inquiries from women asking about Addict by Dior at perfume counters worldwide.  You know you did.  You know who you are… 
Lady Gaga… Stop stalking me.

I guess I have no choice.  I have to return to Paris.

[Barnsley:  Shall I ready the plane to France, captain?]

What?  France?  What are you talking about?
I’m talking about Paris Whitney Hilton or, as her friends refer to her, Paris Hilton.

I really don’t care about her celebrity status or Grandpa Hilton’s pile of hotel brands that try to nickle and dime you for every last thing that happens within their walls, so that the family can finance another reality show.  The truth is, I just genuinely like her. I think she’s a sweetheart…and smart.  I must admit, at first, I missed the old Paris…   You know, the one who was always causing a stir.  One day there’s a tape released  (which I never cared to see) of Paris with a jerk-off ex-boyfriend during private moments, then she’s doing a goofy reality show with friend, Nicole Richie, then she’s getting arrested for DUI, speeding through Los Angeles in the dark, with her headlights off on a suspended driver’s license.  Then there were some drug charges. Whatever!  I thought she was great. Seriously… I’m not being sarcarstic.  She was just another adolescent with a higher budget than most.

Let’s face it, if anyone of us, at that age, could have mustered up enough recognition to have Japanese authorities ban us from entering their country, we would have done it.   

Anyway, I’m getting used to the new Paris.  She’s a little calmer, a little less the party girl, but still having fun and doing what she does best… Just being Paris. I can picture it…

Paris & Archie - Not a Real Photo

Note: That is not a real photo. I’m just goofin’ with you, Paris.
I have a feeling that she’s still going to sue me claiming, “I would never been seen with someone wearing that shirt”.  I know.  I’m Sorry…  It’s one of my cheap Brooks Brother’s shirts. I keep my Eton shirts in Aspen.

So, anyway…
I caught one episode of her new show, The World According to Paris. 

Paris was Paris… (Love ya, babe.  Call me.)
But I had no idea that Brooke Mueller was, like, her co-star.  Seriously?  What a train wreck she is.  Do we all know who she is?  The now ex-wife of Charlie Sheen.  Mother of Bobma & Maxma? 

Note: The media seems to refer to Sheen’s kids as Bob & Max.  But around Palm Beach, way back around their birth, the story was that Charlie has insisted on naming them Bobma & Maxma.  Get it?  Their names would be pronounced Bob Machine and Max Machine. I guess we’ll need to check their IDs.

Anyway, I’m not going to pick on Brooke. I know she’s your friend, Par. But I just gotta say, I think if Moira Fiore was my mom, I’d probably be a train wreck too.  Anyway, Brooke, good luck with the latest round of rehab… 

I could quote some Amy Winehouse lyrics right here.
Too obvious.

What else should we talk about today?
We could talk about the dead…  Clarence Clemons (69) , the Space Shuttle Program (30), Caylee Anthony (2), Peter Falk (83)…  Larry “Wildman” Fischer (66)!

We’ll miss you, Larry.

And Eddie, I miss you more than all the others,
This song is for you my brother

This is going to require a little Tinto de Verano.

Tinto de Verano, which means Red Wine of Summer, is a wine-based cold drink similar to sangria and is very popular in Spain.  READ all about it.

Barnsley…  Bring on the Gaseosa!

But NO, we’re not going to talk about dead people.
We’re going to talk about living.  Living Large!  Prepare to be jeleaous.
Guess where I am, right now?

I’m on my way to Mexico.  Right Now!
Unless of course, you aren’t reading this right now, in which case I may already be in Mexico or I may be back or I may be somewhere else.  Again, this is the reason why we have time.  Without time, everything would happen right now.  Then our problem would be space.  You see, if everything happened right now, then you’d be everywhere you’ve ever been and everywhere you’ll ever go right now!  The problem is that, so would everyone else.  Of course, two people can’t occupy the same space simultaneously.  That’s why we have time.  Because two people can occupy the same space, as long as they are there at different times. Got it?

So, was (or am) I?  Oh, yeah… Mexico! 
I’m on my way there, as I am writing this…

Headed to Baja Califonia Sur (BCS) con tres de mis compadres, a pasar dos dias en Todos Santos y, despues, tres dias en Cabo San Lucas.  Check out the totally sick place where we’re staying in Todos Santos…

Osprey San Pedrito

We rented out the whole place, on the beach, for two nights.  We’re just a couple miles outside of Todos Santos.  One of those places where I’ve never been, but I’ve been told that if I ever go there, I’ll want to stay.  I hope they have Internet access or this might be my last blog entry…ever!

Todos Santos is supposedly quite a surfer destination. Other than that, it’s a little beach town filled with equal amounts bars and churches.  Personally, I can’t wait to check out the iconic Hotel California.  The real one. The one where The Eagles used to hang out and their song was named after.

Of course, some say that… 

A man in town claims to have started the rumor that became legend, in the early 80’s – and for purely selfish reasons. He says the town was so unknown, so lacking in tourists or business that he felt compelled to do something to stir things up. He was in the real estate business and there weren’t any buyers around to sell to. So he says he dreamed the “Eagles” thing up right out of thin air. There weren’t many takers for an urban legend either, but by the time the hotel was open again as Hotel California in the late 80’s, the legend had begun to grow. The story was told to anyone who would listen that this indeed was the HOTEL CALIFORNIA. That the Eagles had stayed there. That Don Henley had written the song right here, while renting a room for $2/night, sleeping in a hammock. And to further the effect, the song played over the barroom stereo into the streets. Why it had to be true, didn’t it?

I don’t care.  I say it’s the real Hotel California.
Of course, if it isn’t, maybe they’ll sell it to me for less.

But really, who could argue that this isn’t the real Hotel California.
I’ve only been here a few hours and already my head is growing heavy and my sight is growing dim.  I can sense the warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air…and there goes the mission bell. This is…such a lovely place.  I want it. And to further prove my point, one of my friends just commented, “this could be heaven or this could be hell”.

Speaking of buying real estate in BCS, I’m planning to look at this place while I’m out here…

The Chili House

I love it.  I want it.  I needs me some property in BCS.

So, I’m keeping it short today.  I need to spend maximum time en la playa, con cervezas, tequila y unos puros.  See you on the flip-side.  That is…  If I decide to ever leave Todos Santos.

Just send my mail to The Rosarito Beach Cafe

OK, really, Igotta run.
There’s a dance in the courtyard.
<smootchie bootchies>

– Arch