Atomictumor

Man, this news about blew my mind. To think little ol’ Tennessee, bring up the rear in damn near any survey of the 50 states, is manning up to the .gov, and telling em to stick the Real Id where the sun don’t shine. This is news that just reaffirms my faith in state goverment, man.

Real ID, for those who haven’t been around, was hidden in the back of a government war appropriations bill as a rider about 2 or 3 years ago, and by the time anybody noticed it, the bill passed (I mean, who’s gonna vote down a war appropriations bill, right? Not in this country). It says that all states must contribute to a national database by Dec 2009, essentially setting up a national ID card. The costs are passed down to the states, and the Real ID card would be required for passports, driving, and essentially all other identification in the country, bringing us further away from the whole “govern by state” thing that Washington (the dude, not the town) was all cool with (except that he was a federalist, so he probably wasn’t as cool as, say, Jefferson, or somebody like that. whatever)

Anyway, I’m proud to say I’m from Tennessee because of this, and lemme tell you, thats not usually the first thing I’m proud to say.

So, here we are.  Tomorrow I drive down to the Blueberry Farm for the great and mighty journey to Bonnaroo, and, par for the course, I’m ill-prepared.  I’ve been planning it out in my head a lot, but haven’t done a damn thing as far as prep EXCEPT for buying a hat and a pair of sunglasses.

Now, I have talked to Nodbob a good deal regarding things like food, location, camping, supplies, stuff like that, but I have yet to actually get this stuff together, or even come up with a formidable list of things that I need to bring.

I HAVE, however, found driving music.

The Rapture has rapidly become one of my favoritest bands, along with last week’s favoritest band, Wolfmother.  The former is like a crazy baby of Franz Ferdinand and Of Montreal hopped up on meth, and the latter is, well, Black Sabbath.  You dance to the Rapture, you kick ass and drink to Wolfmother.  They’re Australian, the latest in a long line of genetically modified Aussie ass kicking hard rockers that stretches back to AC/DC, and before, to the hard weirdo’s shipped out there by mother England way back when, the earliest version of Guantanamo.

Wolfmother, I was tickled to find out, will be kicking my sorry ass personally at Bonnaroo on Sunday afternoon.  My ass is probably going to be kicked by a lot of bands, tho.