02-07-98 Springfield, MO. The Juke Joint.

In the morning it's just Bo (the driver) and I watching that white line go around the earth some more. For some reason I seem to be the last to bed and the first one up. Hyperactive child. Too much tartrazine. Bo's been driving trucks and busses since he was 16. He's got a million stories and he's a likeable guy.

I've had some drivers that I wanted to kill, but Bo's all right. He likes a joke and he realises what a ludicrous thing to do with your life being in a band is and that makes him all right with me. Suddenly Bo's' shouting:

"ALLIGATOR!"
"What?"
"ALLIGATOR!"

There's an alligator in the road? But this is Phillipsburg Missouri. I look around the road but there's no alligator. Bo's fucking crazy. All this time he's been fooling me. He's actually been hitting acid during the long drives and now he's hallucinating motorway alligators. Fear and Loathing in Springfield Missouri? As it tuns out 'alligator' is truckers CB slang for a chunk of tire left in the road from a blow out.

"I used to hear tha other drivers talk about 'Gators' in the road and git all excited 'bout seeing one," reminisces Bo, "but they wus never any alligators in tha road. Took me about two years to figure that it was jus slang for tyre chunks."

OK so Springfield, you have to think The Simpsons. I bet they get sick of that around here. I try and avoid the stereotype all I can but then I meet a girl who wants to get on the list. I ask her name.

"Heather Duff."
"Does your father own a brewery?"
"Excuse me?"
"Doesn't matter."

The gig goes well and there are a few die hard Pitchshifter fans from the old days in there tonight. After show I discuss American politics with them and Duff beer. A nice combination. I look at a cool 'Geezer' tattoo and then go to the T-shirt stall. The T-shirt seller is a nice lady and I hang out with her as the crowd filter out. She's pregnant. Her boyfriend is security tonight. I ask her what religion the baby will grow up.

"He'll be a Christian.'
"Really?
"Yeah, that's how we'll raise her, I hope it's a her."

I can't resist it. I roll up one of our posters, put one end to my mouth and the other to her stomach. I start to talk to their child:

"Hail Satan. When you grow up you will worship the Dark Lord. Beelzebub is good. Beelzebub is our pal. You will succumb to the Dark Side."

There's a tap on my shoulder. It's Greg the tour manager:

"Jon, what are you doing? Leave this poor girl alone."

I turn back around and she's cradling her stomach as if to protect the unborn child from my ranting. This Bible Belt thing is getting out of control. I don't give a toss about Christianity or Satanism but it really offends so many people to talk that way that I HAVE to do it. It's bigger than me. SuperId. As we pull out in the dolphin of the apocalypse Chris (Gravity Kills stage tech) come son the bus to say hello. D (drums for Pitchshifter) rode on their bus last night and they were drinking somewhat.

"What did you and D get up to last night?"
"Last time I saw him he was trying to rip the mouth off a four foot high fluffy toy in a Seedy J truckstop. He was really drunk man."
"Don't tell me any more."