This will be a longer than usual entry, with a good bit to cover. So grab a tasty beverage, settle in, and allow me to profoundly philosophize.

I started this blog to chronicle my adventures at shows and events around Atlanta. Sadly, as recurring Propeller Skies readers know, there have been no adventures. Shows are pretty much all the same. A bunch of musicians show up and play, sometimes badly. Sometimes the sound quality is good. Sometimes not so good. Especially at The Earl. [Kick that dead horse one more time and beatdowns will be administered � Ed.] Events follow a similar pattern of mind numbing repetition. First, some hotties show up and I take pictures of them. Sometimes I get a number or two. Other times I do not bother asking, because I am [1] broke, [2] too drunk to form coherent sentences, or [3] I just do not give a rat�s ass, since I will meet a dozen more at the next event. Next, I chat with whatever acquaintances happen to be there. Finally, after getting a reasonable number of photographs, I leave and go do something interesting with my friends that I do not write about. Therefore, this blog has gotten pretty fucking monotonous. [Thanks for pointing that out, captain obvious � Ed.]

Part of the problem is that nothing of great import or interest ever happens in Atlanta. The southerners are too damn polite to actually do something interesting. Inexplicably, this attitude has rubbed off on all the carpetbaggers as well. This place is one giant glorified suburb. And a boring one at that. As opposed to a Lynchian suburb, with dead bodies and sinister plots lurking underneath a facade of manicured lawns and white picket fences. I might as well live in motherfucking New Jersey. Which would be more exciting, because the streets are filled with swarms of guidos wearing tight shiny shirts and twenty-four carat garden hoses, driving Camaros, and beating the shit out of each other or anyone else nearby. Short of a massive government sponsored guido relocation program, I doubt the excitement level in Atlanta will be improving anytime in the near future.

In conclusion, I am pretty fucking tired of writing the same damn thing about every single damn event. The entries have become as tedious and formulaic as a romance novel, or a Michael Bay film. So, Prizzo Skeezy will be changing direction. Instead of reviewing events that I photograph for AtlantaBuzz, I will be viciously mocking the fashion victims and stupid people that say dumb stuff at the aforementioned events. Similar to previous posts, shitty venues will be ridiculed as appropriate. Additionally, I will be writing more about the previously discussed interesting things I do with my friends. Finally, Wire is one of the greatest bands of all time.