Joe Destruction: The detective on himself.

My Only Talent

One day I got a package in the mail. I opened it and it blew up. I was thrown out the window, flew two blocks, bounced off a third-story balcony and hit the street, where three kids on skateboards ran me over. When I got back to the office, I found a note that said, “I don’t know you, but I just wanted to find out if it’s true you can’t be blown up. --Yeah, it’s true.

Getting blown up a lot has led me to a lot of abusive habits. One thing about abusive habits. Once you get used to them, they ain’t half-bad. I’m thinking about picking up a few more. Got any suggestions?

The Creative Use of Leisure Time

When night in the city gets hotter than the inside of a dry-cleaning bag, I sit by the window in the dark, drinking Jack Daniels, staring out at the lights and waiting for a breeze. Sometime during the night, the lights begin to dance as the exhaust mixes with the heat and my sweat that pours out smelling like Tennessee whiskey. It all mixes into a murky stew and I hop in and I count the distant pop of gunshots as I sink under and pass out. God, I love that. --Course, I always feel like crap the next day.

Sometimes I’ll find myself exchanging potshots with the Salvation Army ladies down the street. They’ve wanted my building for a long time, want to put in an armored thrift store. I’m all for the Salvation Army; I’d even consider giving up my office building. Only thing is, they never asked.


	JOE ON JOE My Only Talent One day I got a package in the mail. I opened it and it blew up. I was thrown out the window, flew two blocks, bounced off a third-story balcony and hit the street, where three kids on skateboards ran me over. When I got back to the office, I found a note that said, “I don’t know you, but I just wanted to find out if it’s true you can’t be blown up. --Yeah, it’s true. Getting blown up a lot has led me to a lot of abusive habits. One thing about abusive habits. Once you get used to them, they ain’t half-bad. I’m thinking about picking up a few more. Got any suggestions? The Creative Use of Leisure Time When night in the city gets hotter than the inside of a dry-cleaning bag, I sit by the window in the dark, drinking Jack Daniels, staring out at the lights and waiting for a breeze. Sometime during the night, the lights begin to dance as the exhaust mixes with the heat and my sweat that pours out smelling like Tennessee whiskey. It all mixes into a murky stew and I hop in and I count the distant pop of gunshots as I sink under and pass out. God, I love that. --Course, I always feel like crap the next day. Sometimes I’ll find myself exchanging potshots with the Salvation Army ladies down the street. They’ve wanted my building for a long time, want to put in an armored thrift store. I’m all for the Salvation Army; I’d even consider giving up my office building. Only thing is, they never asked.