So the Scattergods are just about to release our first album, available at stores everywhere. This is the song list:

"Self-Titled Debut Album," The Scattergods

Side 1

Nixon is Dead

Wasted You

Rutville

Gage and DeSoto (Emergency!)

Angry Music

Side 2

Now I'm a Farmer*

God Hates Me ('Cause He's Jealous)

Too Much Girl

Probability Crowd

More Damage

Hidden Track

300 baud modem sending Atari 8-bit program

Reserve your copy today.

*Obscure Who Cover

So it's two in the morning and I'm flipping around the TV, waiting for my insomnia to get bored so I can beat it to death with an axe.

I've watched Headline News three times in a row.

KTTV is showing Stooges shorts, but they're all got Shemp in them.

Beautiful women want to talk to me.

Telesmundo -- way, way up beyond where all the normal channels live -- is showing "WarGames," dubbed into Spanish.

So I watch it to the end.

So I'm driving out of Chavez Ravine with Phil after watching the Dodgers win a squeaker and Nine Inch Nails' "Closer" comes on the radio. "Closer" is angry music, brooding and distorted, so I turn it up loud. 'Cause, y'know, I'm a brooding and distorted kinda guy.

You let me violate you, you let me desecrate you,
You let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you.

Help me, I broke apart my insides,
Help me, I've got no soul to sell,
Help me, the only thing that works for me,
Help me get away from myself.

I want to [silence] you like an animal,
I want to feel you from the inside,
I want to [silence] you like an animal,
My whole existence is flawed,
You get me closer to God.

I turn the radio down a bit and say, "Hee."

Phil looks a little unsettled. "Ah," he says, adding "Um" a moment later. "That's not 'I want to invite-out-out-for-coffee-and-maybe-have-a-nice-conversation you like an animal,' is it?"

So I'm on the phone with the machine of a woman I just started dating and I'm trying to sound casual and confident.

Half way through my message -- "If you've got some free time this week, let's go see a movie" -- my call-waiting beeps. I quickly finish up my message -- "Gimme a call" -- and click over to the other line.

It's Corlan, my professional-gambler ex-roommate and he's calling to find out if I'm going to watch the Simpsons. Sure. He's gonna come over and bring some Mexican food.

I hang up and a second later the phone rings. I pick it up and say:

"Hello? Hellooooo? Hello! Hi, there! Foo! You called m--"

And I realize that call-waiting will ring your phone if you hang up and the other party hasn't. I realize that I'm still talking to a phone machine. I realize that everything I say is getting added right after my casual and confident message.

"--Ah. Um. Call-waiting. Er. The ph-- I, ah, um. Heh."

And I hang up.

I'm so smooth.