Watch for rollers.

Another calendar year is on its way out, and that means Saturday is Amateur's Night at your local bar and/or tavern. Remember, pros: if you get in a gentlemanly disagreement over who was the greatest British Prime Minister with someone who is feeling their likker for the first time since the latter of July 4 or their birthday, and there will be many of them, remember that the drunker person is usually the loser, and the loser is the one laying on the ground, bleeding. So don't get too messed up.

That also means that there's plenty of good stuff going on. I'll be at Peabody's and the Palace (get some websites already guys) at some point of the evening, for a punk show and Mudbone, respectively, but I hear Fratello's, Tom's Garage, and probably every other bar in the area that has a stage and a brain-functioning manager will have some kind of live entertainment along with all the cheap champagne and those little horns that sound like a high-pitched fart. (A little-known fact is that this is also the night that musicians traditionally get their upcoming tax bills paid for, as long as they don't drink what they make tonight before April 15, which they always do.)

Those of you under 21, you unfortunate bastards, go to the New Moon (they're open until 1a this NYE) and experience the Family Groove Company, unless you know a house party, and then don't get caught.

In an earlier revision, that final clause had something to do with the title of this blog post. Try not to kill anyone either. It's a new moon, and that means things are effed up (lame, but I'm told if I use adult language here they take away my toys) and usually bad.

In any case, as it comes time to get a new calendar -- not me, I'm still stuck in June on the page-a-day Zen Buddhist one I got stole for me last January -- I'm reminded of the wonderful Hives song "The Hives Declare Guerre Nucleaire," which contains the immortal phrase "Did some atomic tricks/in two-thousand and six."

Hey that's my plan, too.

-BlackAndy