mississippi or busted

In the wake of Round Ireland With A Fridge and other humourous travel books, I always had in mind the idea to hitch-hike my way down to Bill Hicks’ grave to pay my respects. Of course, we need him around now, more than ever:

‘We’re going in for God and country and democracy and here’s a foetus and he’s a Hitler. Whatever you fucking need, let’s go. Get motivated behind this, let’s go!’

Someone’s going to have to pat down the dirt disturbed by all that subterranean oscillation, the poor sod.