Free Art Test.

Now look at the size of that fucking rabbit! Fat bastard! It looks like it ate you! Anyway. As I am in La, let me dispel a myth for you: That British TV is better than American TV.

The truth is not so. Americans are much better than the British at Television, good and bad. They make the worst television. So bad can they make it! But so too, they make the best. Ours is mainly a bit crap, and super-occasionally very good. In America it is mainly awful, but there is always something really amazing on, like South Park, or The Sopranos, or Dave Chapelle, or The Daily Show, or Seinfeld, or the Young Jeezy video.

However, it is full of humiliation and torture. They're force feeding a man leeches at the moment, and laughing at him. "It's not good enough Kevin. Looks like Lucy's gonna get that Hummer!"

Lucy is in a vat full of lobsters and lice. She has bile dripping out of the corners of her collagen plump lips.

She is kind of hot.

Oo-er, people! We are entering a new plateau of high weird, here in this 21st century, itself a tricky little bit of subtle deception to make us thing there haven't been billions more, in which reality TV game shows were not a controlling factor and huge beasts flew about the skies, swooping down on occasion to feast on giant vermin, oblivious to the big white dude in the clouds and the red one with hooves beneath, who one day would plant their bones in the desert in order to trick innocent Christians into thinking the Bible to not be literal. Dark!

If I had a brand new combine harvester, I would not give you the key, as you might break it.


So I was up at Interscope yesterday, plotting, which is fun, cos it involves puffy stickers and stuff. After we went to The Viceroy, which is one of those restaurants in a hotel which is so expensive they don't put the prices next to the items on the menu. Lou Reed was there. Lou Reed is short. I had half of Jeff's burger and a bunch of whiskeys, thank you. We all got given a small quantity of potato and random meat on a spoon. I have no idea why. Dyana told us this story about how one time she was doing karaoke in some dive, and Whitney Houston came in a hoodie and got up and did The Greatest Love Of All. Ray told us about how Manhattan Beach has been ruined, by a load of raw sewage wot got pumped all over it for some bizzaro reason. "You can't shake that shit," he noted, sadly. Seems the beach is likely to be ruined and unusable for 20 years, as the sewage penetrated the sand, and it is now full of bacteria. "The shit went down," explained Ray, usefully.

My Blackberry notes are a bit vague after that, as we hooked up with Jeff's brother and got battered. Jeff's brother hangs out with legions of 22 year old Californian girls and smokes bowls and does too many shots, and can't remember a thing that happened last night, today, but is painfully aware that his girlfriend hates him and Jeff nicked half of his weed. Ah-ha ha ha. Brothers! I had a good time, between the worst club in the world and a relatively safe one, and I finally found some moustache wax, and I kept finding things to be amazed by, like dogs, those freakish inventions of human selective breeding, you used to be wolves and shit! Ah ha ha ha!

Today we went to see Danny Saber and that freak dog Wolfie and the long-suffering Helen, to make substitute music. I did some Singing. It sounded like Belle And Sebastian, before we pitched it up. In my head I have a giant, magnificent, Pavarotti voice, but in reality I have a gay indie voice.

I learn so many things here! Today I learnt that Madonna has a recurring nightmare in which she is chased by a midget weirding a knife. And Lynsey Lohan was interviewed for the part of Tom Cruise's wife. Scary!

Anyway. Tomorrow, we are driving to San Francisco! Road Trip! Best not be any earthquakes! We know what you're up to Jeb, you fat little shit!