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The Paper Tiger Loves You before/after I like driving in the snow, and being stoned. Its a simple joy in life. I like the simple joys, like being warm as hell when its cold outside, safe in my car, with all the world for my veiwing. Many things to veiw, much like the mullet I saw on Saturday night. My roomates and a girl went to the Paper Tiger (mississippi and sante fe---yeah), one of our many stops Saturday night. Bukowski would have loved the Paper Tiger. It is the quintessential dive strip joint. No cover and the beer is cheap. There are three fish tanks behind the bar, inside of which are three large fish of indeterminate specie. They fill their aquarium, with barely enough room to turn around. Languidly, they stay on the side of the tank where the oxygen flows. "Fuck!" Roomie blurted, "I would love to take that fish out of here, take it to wash park, and throw it in the pond, just so he could know how it feels to go fast. You know...here you go buddy." "Right" I drawled. "Of course, he'd probably be eaten in two seconds by all the other fish and shit that live in the pond, but at least he would know." he said. "Yeah, but that would be a real Braveheart moment for that fish. Live free or die." I said, but no one seemed to understand. In through the door alone walks the most striking mullet I have seen in a long damn time. It was a classic mullet to the bottom of the shoulderblades, with a little bit of a perm in the plumage, the ends were highlighted just a bit blonde. It was fantastic. Much better than the dancers, who appeared to be dancing on something like an old pool table, and had to put quarters in the juke-box so they had music. But that mullet. Man, I was in awe. Some moutain folk came in, veritably flashing their "Member Justus Township" cards and we left.
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