09/15/04 To 10/17/04
you are visitor # since 05/28/01
It's unlikely you're ever going to con me. You can talk a line of bull that would convince 99% of the rubes you encounter..but you won't get to me.
I can even reveal my strategy in advance..and you STILL won't find a way to worm your way into my heart..my wallet..my home.
It's not my significant intelligence that enables me to make such a convident claim. I was a salesman for years. I was trained by guys SO good they are the "1%" that could still sell me. Later, I trained kids to sell. They made me a lot of money. I went on to be a successful salesman in a couple more situations.
Eventually, I lost my nerve. But.. I never forgot the lessons I learned.
An example. A guy greeted me at the door of the local grocery store with a glazed look in his eyes. He said "hello sir..."
That's all I needed to know. He was working the grocery store customers.
I'm wise enough to know that most solicitations of money DON'T begin with the direct approach. It's common for a begger to pose as a humble kind person to set marks up. It's extremely UNCOMMON for a glassy eyed weird looking fuck to greet a large, bearded, tattoo'd and long haired man with the word "sir". I immediately realized the guy was working the door.
Sure enough I barely had the chance to wave my arm in a derogatory "fuck youse" manner than a representative of the store approached the guy with a request to immediately leave the premises.
That was an easy guy to read.
The more complex scammers and desperate scumbags can take weeks or even months setting victims up for an eventual cornholing.
Not long ago Elvis warned me about a guy that works all the local rubes for drinks, spare change and attention. His approach is to immediately embrace everybody as his "buddy". He told me I'd recognize him clearly from that simple description of his m.o.
Sure enough...he popped up at the tavern table I was sitting at with Marla and a couple friends. He did the buddy-buddy routine with a friend for about 30 seconds before I was able to place him. When he was introduced to me I knew for sure.
I was right. I'm almost ALWAYS right about somebody's intentions to work me.
When I hear a lot of happy b.s. being warbled out in my direction..I get suspicious. My preferred tactic is to not reveal my suspicions when I first suspect somebody of being a leech. I focus on not letting my eyes or facial features reveal the fact that I'm leary of what I hear.
I don't overtly try to appear to be sucking up to the phoney either.
It's amazing how many manipulative liars over the years will talk and talk and talk if you pretend to be accepting what they're laying down.
It's sad that I have to be suspicious of people who eventually turn out to be OK...but that's neccessary. I've found it worthwhile to be ESPECIALLY suspicious of prospective band members (they'll commonly say they LOVE the band one day and quit the next..it's the rule not the exception), overly blatant Christians (they often feel justified in screwing over anybody based on their religious slant) and anybody proposing some plan of action that will benefit me financially.
Pyramid schemes are ALWAYS best to avoid. Of course, the people trying to con you into one are always prepared to swear on a stack of bibles that they don't represent a pyramid scheme.
Religious groups who actively recruit are fucking manipulative SCAMS. ALL OF 'EM. WAKE UP dumbass.
Politicians who daily use scare tactic approaches warning you of ominous consequences if their opponent is elected are WORKING YOU. WAKE UP.
To paraphrase world famous gambler Amarillo Slim (his book is great..READ IT) anybody who wants you to bet money against an impossible thing happening is WORKING YOU.
Learn to judge your friends by how they treat you over a long period of time. I've had a jillion experiences...mostly BAD..with people trying to indear themselves to me too fast. When they start using the "hey BUDDY!!!!!!" pitch...clutch your wallet...and run away from them physically.
Be glad for all the long term friends you have who you can really trust. TREASURE THEM..and buy them lots of drinks.
DON'T trust anybody you've only met at taverns and bars. You don't really know somebody until you've seen them deal a few times with the tedious, squarehead realities of life.
I got one email from a seemingly knowledgable guy saying I was totally off base on "the big Lebowski"...and then one in basic agreement with me from B-face (who brilliantly refers to it as the "big yawnski").
That's the way it is with humor. There's no right or wrong when it comes to what is funny. It's all a matter of opinion..just like all other forms of art. I think Jim Varney was brilliant..lots of critics loathed his films. I discovered "trains planes and automobiles" not that long ago....it's almost PERFECT..even though I've never been a big Steve Martin fan (he's just too "off the wall" to coin a hippie era phrase).
Sometimes a comedian is better than at other times.
Andy Kaufman doing standup?? funny. "Taxi"...unwatchable.
Jim Varney??? He made BRILLIANT commercials, had a topnotch TV show and made a few great films (like "Ernest goes to jail")..some of his movies though were simply bad suckup commercial projects for kids.
Benny Hill?? Not my type of humor at all.
Monty Python?? The "life of Brian" was great...as were a lot of their movies. We just discovered the classic "how to irritate people"..but to be honest sometimes the TV show just got too damned wacky for me...dare I say too "English"??
Jerry Lewis's "nutty professor"?? Brilliant..fucking PERFECT. The remake?? Just the previews made me want to rip my eyes out of their sockets in horror.
SCTV was routinely much funnier than the hippie mentality SNL in my book.
I laugh like fucking mad at the 3 Stooges...and love Shemp and Curley equally.But, Abbot and Costello movies are about as funny as reading a receipt from the grocery store. Live they might have been terrific...but SO WHAT!! What good does that do me?? I can only judge them by what I see.
Rudy Ray Moore?? Hey..he's the king. Flip Wilson??...uhh...sorry. Not my cup of tea.
Bob Hope?? NOPE. Adam Sandler?? Jim Carey?? not interested.
"Mama's family"?? Sure. "Sanford & Son"..hell yeah. "Good times"?? Jimmy Walker was a laugh riot..the rest of the show seemed forced and bored me.
My favorite comedian?? tonight, it's John Candy (I've been desperately searching for a copy of the "Schvenges" movie which I believe is titled "the last polka"). The less mainstream the project the better his work as far as I'm concerned.
The funniest movie scene ever?? That's easy. It's the last scene of "it's a Mad Mad Mad Mad world". Spencer Tracey the straight guy in the film (which featured dozens of the greatest comedians of that era) is laying there with his limbs in traction. He remarks to another charachter that his life is so fucked up..he'll likely NEVER find anything to laugh at again (ok I'm paraphrasing the dialogue). Just then the bitchy big mouthed broad you want to slap throughout the entire film enters the room and slips mid-gripe on a banana peel. The entire ward full of guys with broken limbs facing jail time bust out laughing like crazy. WHAT A WAY TO END A GREAT EPIC FILM?? By "defining" comedy with a gag that's as old as Ma and Pa Kettle (who I like).
It's been a shitty existance around here the last couple days. We had not one..but TWO..zipdisc drives go tits up at virtually the same time. One would usually suffice to set me off headbutting the walls and throwing furniture. My entire existance pretty much revolves around zipdisc backup files of my writing, my ebay and our website including this diary. When the sanctity of our storage system is threatened...I take it very personally. When our website vanished into thin air a couple years ago I went from peddling a low 3 figure dollar amount of merchandise per week to practically flat ass nothing. I was getting about 150 hits per day here..and its never bounced back up.
When disaster strikes and I freak out...for some goddamned reason even though I've been a daily drinker fucking forever I don't run for a bottle. There's some sort of inner voice warning me not to. I do recognize the fact that if I totally flip out and I'm drinking everybody including my wife and son and the guys from the rubber room and any cops who should happen by would automatically assume my "problems" are alcohol related..when in reality my problems began the day my mommy dropped me out of her ass. I'm very aware of my mental state at all times. When I start losing it I can feel a sort of chemical transformation oozing through my brain and limbs. Since I learned that my maternal Mother has been "hospitalized" for some time I've tried to force myself to stay under control. You sure wouldn't know that if you happened to drop by my house when I'm in the middle of one of my rages.
THAT brings me to todays adventure. I was sitting on the damned couch watching a movie Mark leant me.."Fargo". It was surprisingly good..what I saw of it that is (I was surprised because the day before I was disappointed by another movie by the same directors.."the big Lebowski"..a comedy I didn't laugh once through). Unfortunately the movie was totally ruined for me when I saw an unexpected visitor pull up in front of my house.
Long time readers of this diary will know that rule #1 for anybody that wants to be on any sort of friendly basis with me is...NO DROP IN VISITS!!!!!!!
That goes for ANYBODY. I don't even want close RELATIVES dropping in; hey..let's make that ESPECIALLY close relatives. Even if your mission is a short one..even if you plan to leave a sleigh load of gifts from the liquor store. NO MATTER WHAT...NO DROP IN'S!!!!!!! Are you a big famous rock star??? A pro-wrestler of note?? Are you Regis Motherfucking Philbin??? SO WHAT!!! NO DROP IN VISITS!!!!
This particular visitor was ignored...I didn't answer the door. I might have shrugged this breech of etiquette off quicker...but for the fact that this drop in also made 3 hang up calls without leaving a message on my answering machine.
Why is it so goddamned difficult for some people to realize that there are FUCKING REASONS..SEVERAL of them..I have an answering machine; there are FUCKING REASONS I "monitor calls"; there are FUCKING REASONS why I don't snatch the phone out of the cradle when it rings no matter what I'm doing.
I'm amazed at how many of the people who SUPPOSEDLY know me the best take it personally when I don't pick up the phone. If they REALLY knew me..they'd realize that:
A) I work at home..several hours out of the day..USUALLY coinciding with the evening hours most people have free. I WRITE. I do repetitive Ebay crap for several hours at a time. When I work...I DON'T FUCK AROUND. I usually don't drink during ebay hours. I write sober 90% of the time (the opposite used to be the truth....well, I changed). When I worked at offices and title insurance plants and retail stores for a living I didn't stop my work to make personal telephone calls. I've learned from sad experience that once I have yet another stupid idea for a column or a line of thought for a book..I don't stop laying it down because the phone rings. I only list ebay crap during a narrow window of time in which auctions seem to be most successful. I don't pick up the phone when I'm working at that either.
B) I FUCKING HATE PHONES. For years I had to ply my trade as a bill collector, toilet salesman, etc. using the phone. I've HAD ENOUGH of it. I prefer email..although I'm sometimes weeks behind in answering people I really want to communicate with. Marla is now my social secretary (thank you dear). I can't keep track of dates or commitmants worth a shit. TALK TO HER if you want to get together with me. That's just THE WAY IT IS.
If you don't like it...well, you don't HAVE TO BE MY FRIEND. I try to honor my own friends personal communications habits. I don't call anybody at 5:10 a.m. just because MY WORK is over and I selfishly want to talk to someone. I try to keep track of what friends sack out early..what friends have to deal with kids during the early eveniing hours, etc. BOTTOM LINE: If you're my friend I try to honor your wishes and not act "hurt" or disgusted if you're not available to talk when I call.
C) I may be foaming at the mouth in rage for some reason when you call (or "drop in"). I may be in the middle of a multi-day depression. I may be on the toilet. I may be playing video games in the other room. I may be asleep (I deliberately have things rigged so I can't hear the phone from bed).
D) Even though the number of solicitors calling has gone down since the legal changes made...at least half of the time the phone rings it's a non-essential call; such as from a friend of Elvis's who when he doesn't pick up will call him on his cell phone.
Sorry...my door is NOT always open to you..or anybody else. My house ISN'T your house. DON'T fucking make yourself at home. We DON'T pretend to practice Southern hospitality here. We haven't had an "open door" policy in many years. It's likely that most of Marla and my friends who don't completely understand our "weirdness" when it comes to our no drop-in rule are many years younger than us. We've simply had a lot more years of BAD SITUATIONS come about from uninvited visitors...such as:
1) Lonnie. A moron from back in Portland who had nothing to do but drift around from house to house of people he leeched off of.
2) The arsonist (who turned out to be a "friend") who burned down our house in 1983 was a "drop-in".
3) The mouthy crusty punk bitch girlfriend of the son of a loyal friend from afar.
4) The former jock asshole high school pal of mine who dropped in..and got snowed in for the night. We HATED each other after about a half hour...but we were stuck with him.
Once again...DON'T DROP IN. If you do...we simply won't ever have anything to do with you again. If you don't want to leave a message on my answering machine..DON'T FUCKING CALL. It's on duty 24-7 from NOW ON.
I've been busy as fuck writing columns and reviews. A book proposal letter was shipped out the other day too. The prostitutin' part of writin' doesn't come easily to me..but what the fuck. The job got done anyway.
After observing our dumbasses lately (code word for CAT'S) I've been thinking about the sense of smell. As ass licking dumb as Mr. Jinx and Dixie may be..they sure as fuck know better how to derive pleasure from their little schnozzola's than we humans do. Humans seem so caught up in gazing at pleasant shit, listening to music and lapping up booze and chow that we seem to neglect delightful fragrances that are every bit as enjoyable. We have a "pecan pie" candle right now in one of our bathrooms that everybody that's been visiting our dump claims to really like. I wish we could find candles that smell like fresh baking bread or rolls...a turkey dinner..or maybe chocolate pie. I love the smell of a crisp Fall morning in a tiny hick town where a lot of the rubes that live there have fires going. I love the proverbial "new car" smell. I love the smell of a chilly walk-in beer cooler.
I wish I could get off on the smell of dead bugs or dried piss or whatever it is that turns the cats on. This is the time of year we sometimes switch off the A.C. for a few minutes and open a window. Our indoor cats go frigging crazy. They'll wake from a deadass sleep and take a leap up onto the windowsill. They hoist their little noses to the screen and start inhaling for all they're worth like a homie huffing glue from a rag. Like I said..if I were as advanced in developement as them...I'd be up on the windowsill next to 'em. As it is..I don''t really know for sure what I'm even missing. Whatever it is must be DAMNED good; they don't like to be prodded or talked to when they're huffing outdoor air.
One last cat miracle: I accidently touched dixie's little bunghole once (I had witnesses....it WAS an accident damnit) and it felt like rubber..not that I checked it out thoroughly or anything. Mr. Jinx sure has checked it out though..their mutual cleaning ritual is really fucking kinky.
Well..OK. Gazing back at the page above...I see I've covered the gentle aromas of Grandma's kitchen..and come close to spinning out into the "cute cat" routine. I guess this entry for better or fucking worse is the result of having to write to 2 columns back to back. I need to plop my ass down with the Rebel Yell jug and the 12 pack of icy cold Coors in bottles I set aside and recharge my creative battery.
Instead of continuing on about the weather or the condition of our yard...I'll back out of here and get shitfaced like I should have hours ago.
I have no idea why...but I've come into touch with several "new" Oregonians over the last couple years. Well, change that to "Portlanders". The reason I sound so up in the air about it all and seem mystefied..is the fact that as I've stated several times here before....I FUCKING HATE OREGON.
I know of only one Oregonian besides myself..who got the fuck out..and voiciferously never was tempted to go back; I'm talking about the man who ran the great Frank Sinatra off the charts in 1951...Johnny Ray.
He passed away several years ago..but DAMN..I wish I had somehow met him. If you've never heard of Johnny Ray...picture a crooner...ala the ratpack or Tony Bennett..singing so intensely he blew all the other crooners off the charts for a while. He was kicking his piano stool across the stage well before the mighty Jerry Lee Lewis did...and he did it all being 95% deaf. He had a regular drummer who kept the beat on a ride cymbal that he was able to "feel" rather than hear. He constantly toured the U.K. and many other countries where he was fully appreciated...but in the U.S...the word was out that he was bi-sexual....and as a result the squareheads from Oregon have ignored him since day one..as completely as Washingtonians ignored Jimi Hendrix for having the nerve to violate provincial sexual standards.
Yeah..he still has millions of fans worldworld...his music has been constantly been in print..and there are huge fanclubs devoted to him to this day. But I'll be goddamned if any of those fans are from BORE-agon.
I've been ranting about his greatness for years...but I still have never met another Boregonian who really knows jack shit about him...or who appreciates him properly.
All you dumb bastards...go to a website loaded with songs to download..and play his: "the little white cloud that cried" or "cry" or "just walking in the rain". THEN tell me why he's been denied posthumously the credit he so deserves.
Oregonians love to beat their breats like Tarzan and crow about relative losers like "Quarterflash" or "Billy Cancer" (Billy Rancher)...but they ignore the big dog; Oregon's only real claim to fame musically from the 1950's.
I don't give a rats ass whether he was banging perenial gameshow panelist Dorothy Kilgallen (a long running affair of his) or banging some dude up the ass. WHO CARES?? His music is so good...that my son Elvis tagged a couple of his ongs at the end of a cassette devoted to ACDC...and the results don't seem strained or out of place. He kicked ass musically in his own intense way. He was also a complete lifelong hedonist...just like me. He drank like a fish daily...and died relatively young. Hey...he SOLD his frequently sad songs better than anybody else going for a few years.
Why was he so fucking sad?? Well, wouldn't you be..if you lost your hearing as the result of a stupid prank at a boyscout jamboree?? Wouldn't you be PISSED off if you had to grown up in some hick town in Boregon?? Gay, straight, Bi or otherwise??
All of you Oregonians should be ASHAMED of your ignorance...you pin prick numb nuts pissant rubes. FUCK YOU!!
One of the bitter sweet feelings I always have after the annual supershow is the fact that I've just seen so many friends....yet I never have the chance to talk more than 5 - 10 minutes with most of them...there's TOO GODDAMNED MANY and too few hours.
This year as usual there were a lot of people there who I've spent long drunken nights with over the years...I've even stayed at the houses of several...and it's some of those folks who I barely find time to talk to. I'm sure most of them understand..and find themselves in a similar situation. Yeah, yeah...there are probably a paranoid few who think I'm pissed off at them for no reason. I can't do much about that..if they don't ASK me if I'm pissed off at them or if I've just turned heel on them. I tried hard to cut back on the whiskey this year so I could circulate around more and remember who I actually talked to better.
It seems a bit twisted that mild unhappiness can come out of being around so many friends..but what the hell. I've never been the sort of person that was good around large groups anyway.
Hell....I made a few embarassing social blunders last weekend just one on one. I not only failed to recognize the General from the Hammercocks on Friday night...on Saturday night I duplicated the feat. I felt incredibly fucking dumb; I pointed out to him the fact that they wear masks on stage..but I still felt like an asshole. SORRY MAN. I've recognized people who've turned up at our early shows 20 years later..and greeted them by name..people I don't even like. But, I'm too addled to spot a guy I like from a band I enjoy..whose T-shirt my Son wears all the time?? It's very depressing.
My pal Mike McNally has told me he can remember customers names he deals with...and greet them without hesitation when they enter his place of business. We're the same age...have I destroyed too many billion brain cells??
All I can say is....one of the satisfactions I receive from studying and playing chess again is the knowledge that I can't be THAT far gone..since I can remember quite a decent amount of opening theory.
I know there are people who hate me for crowing about my wonderful talents all the time. OH WELL. At least I'm not above pointing out some of my bad points. I'm a total moron when it comes to dealing with many simple things children often understand.Yesterday I destroyed a TV dinner because I can't remember how to change the power on our microwave oven NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES ELVIS SHOWS me how. I can't program our VCR's. I can't program our TV. I can't figure out how to switch off Marla's goddamned annoying alarm clock without unplugging it or tossing it in the bath tub. I CAN'T guarantee I could find the oil dipstick in most cars.
For years I worked for a living sitting in front of a computer in the days when you had to enter commands to get them to do anything; does that mean I'm a computer geek?? HELL NO!! I can barely figure out the basic settings on our scanner. There are functions I don't understand on our frigging cable remote. I can't keep the "star" and "pound" keys on the telephone pad straight.
I've covered my odd paranoia's in columns over the years. Still, lots of folks who've met me in the last few years since those were published may be aware of the fact that I have some strange social quirks.
1) NO DROP IN VISITORS are welcome at our home. Nope..the door is never open..DON'T MAKE YOURSELF at home, neighbor.
2) I rarely pick up the telephone. I hate and fear phones. I used to love yakking on 'em...but I'm terrified of them now. If I'm working or writing..of course I ignore the answering machine. If I'm in bed or in the other room playing video games or listening to goddamned music...I ignore incoming calls. When I have company and the phone rings..I cuss it out..and rarely pick up the call...even though it disgusts many visitors..who seem to from that day forward assume I ignore their own precious calls.
Hey..if it makes me some sort of rude jackass..nutcase or whack-job because I don't drop my creative bullshit to talk on the phone..so be it. If I'm writing even horseshit like this I can't risk breaking my concentration.
I try to get back to people within a reasonable period of time. Of course, there are other twisted reasons why I may not. I trust my understanding ot the Caro-Kahn defense about 10 moves deep..and I know some lines of the Ruy Lopez and Sicilian defense 15-17 moves deep. BUT...I don't trust my memory enough to set up practices for our bands. Marla handles all of that (THANK YOU dear). When Rocky and Alesha were in town a few weeks back..I attempted to explain to them that I can't handle planning out social visits anymore..like what time and where and what we'll do. As I told them..I can only suggest two things..much like those kiddie toys where you pull a string and they repeat the same phrases. My two phrases are.."Hey..let's drink!"..and "Hey..let's take a nap!!". I can't plan out a night of entertainment or even suggest a get together time. Marla handles all of that (again..thanks sweetheart).
OK...so if you think I'm just a BIG BABY....WHHHHAAAAAAA!!! I admit it. If you think I'm just some big dumb psycho...FINE. KISS OFF.
That's just a part of the negative side of the "social" me who attends a supershow every year and occasionally screws up and forgets a name..a face..or pisses off somebody inadvertantly. I could go on and on (for instance..I'm very bad with male friends Wives names..even ladies I like a lot with whom I've hung around with in groups many times). Cut me some fucking slack..OK??? I'm not proud of social gaffes..and I don't expect anybody to find my weaknesses endearing or precious. I've spent several different years in my life with virtually no friends around..blame it on that..so I'm a tard socially at times.
Still...it is amazing how in spite of all this I can remember other insignificant details easily.
I think I'll sign off and play a PS2 baseball game. I've got Jim Palmer starting my first game tonight. His record is 4-0..and his era is a lean ".56". He throws a fastball, curve, changeup and a devastating palm ball. I saw him pitch on TV in real life in 1968 for the Baltimore Orioles. It was a Saturday in Beaverton Oregon...and I have a vivid memory of the linoleum floor pattern. The announcer was Curt Gowdy. I drank a grape soda during the game..."Shasta" brand. I didn't crush the can...I delivered it neatly to an area of our garage where cans were stacked. Our phone number was 644-2470...and our address was changed that year from "2240" S.W. Cherryhill Drive..to "13810". I can remember all the neighbors names..even the ones I hated (most of 'em of course).
I think I owe General a case of beer and a brisket next time he hits San Marcos.
Damn I'm tired from 3 days of drinking...REALLY fucking drinking...with folks from Portugal to Portland..from Oakland to Amsterdam...from Wisconsin to Lubbock.
I don't know how in the bloody hell so many people were evidently able to climb onto airplanes and fly home from this years supershow before I even got my ass out of the motel bed...but so be it.
Thanks to a solid turnout of locals in addition to people traveling from all over the US and Europe the supershow was a success in turns of turnout both nights. All the bands played well..I don't have time to go into detail..so I won't even get into any individual bands performances. I'm tired..and I've only drank 4 beers as I sit here at 5:00 am. I think I'll skip whiskey all together tonight.
For those who attended who are curious...the Texas Stud's noggin proved to be too hard to cave in as usual; he got looked at by a sawbones today and appears to be ok..although he doesn't remember much of what happened. Mark's hand quit swelling a few hours after the show and the love-pat he layed on the jaw of a dude who had it coming.
I don't want to go into detail about the altercation that came down..because it would take the focus away from the bands...and devote attention to a couple obviously moronic pests (who I am told have been banned from a lot of Austin clubs..but managed to sneak in). Undoubtedly the pests genitalia must be even more itsy-witsy than their smattering of brain matter. Their courage seemed on the eensy weensy side too...seeing as how fast they ran like little pussies when after lamely blindsiding a few folks..some real men stepped up to deal with them face to face.
I'll write more about the show eventually..when I've recovered.
I've been staring at the screen for 10 minutes. now trying to think of something more to add....but I can't..except for the eternal question..HOW CAN I HAVE SUCH A BAD CASE OF THE SHITS AND LIQUID FARTS...WHEN I HARDLY ATE FOR 3 DAYS????
YEE HAW. The first couple rounds at the supershow will have to be in the honor of Bobo and Melissa's baby (born 9/22) AIDEN SAMUEL DAVIS. Congrats!
Also, today 9/23 is Elvis's birthday (my brat..not Presley) his 20th. We've begun the countdown on the 364 days 'til he turns 21.
In case you wonder whether I'm too jaded to get excited over our new cd...well, I just thought of the perfect anaolgy to describe what it feels like to peel the wrap from the first copy.
Have you ever held a new-born baby chick in your hand...so soft and lovable??
Think back to the last time you displayed a sparkling, newly purchased piece of fine jewelry; you gently open the jewel box to let people around you ooh and ahh over it..while being careful not to let some clumsy oaf drool on it or get his grubby big-mac greasey fingers all over it.
On second thought...the baby chick didn't come from your loins (at least not down here in Texas..I don't know about a few nearby States like Oklahoma) and diamonds aren't REALLY "forever"..the occasions like engagements tend to be ruined a few years down the road. Part of the joy of seeing a new CD is knowing that NOBODY can spoil the precious gem you hold.
It's an even bigger thrill to stroke your hand over a few BOXES of discs. It ALMOST makes all the rehearsals and occasional recording studio foo fraw worth it.
It's an even bigger thrill to hear your music pop up randomly on the radio..as of course I have many, many times. The best time for me was driving to work at 6:30 am in L.A. in 1987; the DJ introduced a two-fer of Rancid Vat's "rock and roll party patrol" and "finger down your throat" saying: "here's a couple from the late great (???) Rancid Vat". The station was capable of reaching about 3 and a half million Angeleno's.
Another time I was in a car with a gaggle of inventory geeks..including a couple bosses. The year was 1991. It was early morning..still dark...and we were driving through Eugene Oregon (where believe it or not we held the top playlist spot for a whole month when "Rancid Vat Justice" came out). The DJ was a loser...yeah...he/she played "the frozen dead" a live track from our "Profiles in pain" e.p. (which we've finally recorded in the studio for the first time for our new release) but failed to properly introduce it or praise us..dumb ass.
It doesn't really "count"..it doesn't feel the same when a friend requests your music on the local station when you're all sitting around getting hammered. Nope; for maximum effect it has to come independant of your efforts...or those of the loser hangers-on around you.
Yeah, yeah...it must be thrilling to be the flavor of the month and hear your music repeatedly on all the local chucklehead stations by nostril mining trend mongers . YAWN. Hey, at least I don't have to SUCK DICK or KISS ASS to get played. It would ruin the experience for me if I had to play drivel as bad as the usual alterno garbage to get on the air. It's a SPECIAL experience to hear RV or AU beamed to the masses. We are like a fine wine...dumbass commercial bands are like Ripple. We are like a unique ice carving..and they are like slurpees drawn from stinky dispensers at 7-11.
One last great feeling to relate: I don't even know how many CD's and hunks of vinyl I've appeared on..I've lost count. HONEST. The total number of units topped 100,000 long ago. No wonder I'm not impressed by clowns whose band squirted out 2 or 3 releases in the "good old days" that may have out sold ours 10 to 1. We're in it for the long haul...we're not stuck in a hard core punk nostalgia time warp. I don't care if you had a big year in 1984 or 1987 or 1994..what have you done LATELY?? (having your crap reissued doesn't count).
Evidently, unless UPS completely fucks up (always a real possibility) we'll have copies of our new goddamned Rancid Vat Cd "we hate you all the way from Texas" at the C.O.S. supershow in Austin this weekend. Hopefully we'll have a scan of the jolly cover posted here very soon. Hell yeah it'll be for sale. I'll add it to our ebay store early next week.
As is sometimes the case, recording this one likely took some time off of my life from sweating over all the details...I'll estimate 3 or 4 months. The longest time any release ever robbed my life span of was an A.U. LP/CD "Dr. Kegger M.D." which turned out great in the long run but was chock full of short run trauma. I figure it took a year or so off of my life; eventually I think I got a few of those months back reveling in its drunken beauty.
I'll probably absorb back a month or two of what I've lost basking in the glow of a masterpiece that's loaded with attitude. I'm sure a few people have written us off completely with Marla and I moving to Texas and all; so what. I haven't cared what people have thought for a long fucking time. If anything we thrive off of people crossing their fingers hoping we'll call it quits. That aint likely anytime soon.
We aren't a bunch of frigging sensitive "artists". It's just a load of rock and roll racket inspired in recent years by the near death state of rock and roll with real drums and a loathing of hip-hop, rap, rap-metal, rap-what have you, bogus ska that sounds like Britney who sounds like Shania Twain who sounds like fucking SHITNEY HOUSTON.
Rock and roll is almost dead....but still hanging on by a thick stubborn thread..as will be evidenced at the supershow.
I'm looking forward to seeing a lot of people I've known for years..and equally the people I've never met who will enjoy the damned show probably more than anybody. I've been told that in addition to folks from the usual foreign countries there'll be people there from countries I've never met anybody from.
Marla and I are the oldest people that will appear over the two nights of hell raising..but so what. There's a few other grey beards. Thanks to the fact that I no longer eat anything fun I'll hopefully be around a good while longer. I don't really want to "grow up" and out of it if it means having to be like the parents of lots of the band members..who focus on boring crap like yard work and listen to Yanni and get nostalgic over crap like you hear on FM radio 70's-80's classic oldies stations. Most of my greatest musical heroes are way the hell older than me. I'll bury quite of few of you damnit.
Yeah..I've had a few shots. I don't get to eat anymore..but I still DRINK.
The best (in my opinion) band in the world...the CRAMPS will be appearing a couple blocks away a few hours before we play. Elvis is shitting his pants over getting to see them again. I wish I could..but I have more important business at hand that night. Any two C.O.S. bands can top even them in my book...and there'll be eight strolling the pines of the Emo's stage over two nights.
Once more there'll be the rock and roll extravaganza known as the C.O.S. supershow. I'm heading up to the damned super 8 motel "Austin central" with Brother Mark on Thursday. I don't care if you're from Chile or stinking Colorado....I don't care what your political headache is..or whether you eat tofu or bloody rare steak, fuck nuns or stray dogs..I'll drink a goddamned beer with you.
I'm of course SICK SICK SICK of this fucking campaign season.
I'm mostly bored to death from hearing a hundred too many cocky jackasses both on the radio and in person who are excited about the election blabbering the same tedious (and by now predictable) insults and over-simplifications.
I've been leafing through my thesaurus to find the perfect words to describe the disgustingly common charachteristics of advocates of various parties. Here's my results:
To be "Tedious" is to "drag on, go on forever, have a certain sameness, be infinitely repetitive, weary, tire, irk, wear, wear on OR upon, make one tired, fatigue, weary or tire to death, jade, give one a swift pain in the ass AND give one a bellyful AND make one fed up". That describes to perfection 99% of Bush hatin' DEMOCRATS I've heard this campaign. They seem hysterical in their hatred of Bush...and willing to believe and repeat any lie they hear. I'll be goddamned if I'm going to take what over zealous drones have to say seriously. IS THIS YOU???
Then there's the Republicans. These folks used to be the hysterical ones...in the 50's and 60's. The ones on TV and radio tend to keep their cool better these days than the terrified democrats. Now what specifically drives me fucking bonkers about them is the fact that they can talk reasonably for long periods of time...but eventually..at some point..they ALWAYS reveal their basic low down PRUDISHNESS. There's hardly a damned one of 'em who don't frown on agnostics like me. Whether they attend church regularly or not they all pay lip service in the end to god. I WIPE MY ASS with bible pages. The best word to describe these folks is:
"Sanctimonius"..which means: sanctified, pious, pietistic, pietistical, self-righteous (AMEN!!!) pharisaic, pharisaical, holier-than-thou, holier-than-the-pope, goody AND goody goody AND googoo"
The majority of Green's I've encountered are of course the easiest of all to describe:
"half-learned"..or in other words: "half baked, half cocked, AND half assed, shallow, superficial, immature, sophmoric, sophmorical, dilettantish, smattering, dabbling, amateur, amaterish, WISE IN ONES OWN CONCEIT".
Eventually, most Greens (and their ilk from over the years before they began to use that party name) shed their youthful idealism as they mature. Unfortunately, most of them either leap to one of the other big two partys or unplug from the entire process. If you could motivate all the grown up idealists once they've developed a healthy cynicism and learned to question ALL political sales pitches..you could form a party that could take over.
Ahh..it'll never happen of course.
After years and years of thought and discussion with Libertarian friends..I'm now a registered Libertarian. So what do they do now that I've jumped on the band wagon?? My fellow party members have nominated a freaking NUTCASE for their candidate. I'll wipe my ass with the ballot before I vote for that conspiracy theory whackjob. I've never heard a bad Libertarian talkshow host...but as former Libertarian Jesse Ventura pointed out long ago they know how to TALK...they just don't know how to do what's neccesary to win elections.
"Anachronous" describes my political party of choice...or: "anachronistic, mistimed, misdated, antedated, foredated, postdated, ahead of time, beforehand, early, behind time, unseasonable".....blah blah blah.
So, I've simply HAD ENOUGH of this frigging election. Yeah, yeah, yeah..I'll vote. Hopefully I'll be able to write in Governor Jesse's name. Meanwhile, do yourself a favor. Go stand in front of a mirror and blabber your usual "tedious", "sanctimonius" "anachronous" or "half learned" nonsense; you look PRETTY FUCKING STUPID..don't you???
Just crack a beer..and calm the fuck down. Check out some smut. RELAX. We're gonna survive this election no matter who gets elected.
But I can't guarantee the survival of the next partisan gung ho politico who launches into the same old SAME OLD one liners on my drinking porch at 3:00 am.
God DAMN....Hear yee fucking hear yee..in case you've had your head up your ass all day....Johnny Ramone is gone. Shit. It's very strange that Joey, Dee Dee and Johnny would all go in such rapid succession.
I never met the man..but I've read a lot about the Ramones and know people who knew 'em and henceforth feel like I'm qualified to offer up an analogy that they might have appreciated.
For all you ignoramuses out there knocking back shots in Johnny's honor..consider this. Johnny was like Moe from the 3 stooges..the guy the others physically feared..who kicked ass on any of them who slacked off. Joey didn't look like Curly..but he was just as nice a guy without doubt. The "lovable" stooge..the "lovable" Ramone. Dee Dee was a bit of a tortured soul/ genius...not unlike the violin weilding Larry Fine perhaps. Larry backed either Moe or Curly (think....Dee Dee backing either Joey or Johnny) depending on his whim and the situation.
I'm not sure if Tommy Ramone = Shemp applies or not. Tommy was more knowledgable about the biz than the rest of the boys..which probably is tantamount to Shemps experience in films with fatty Arbuckle and others apart from the family act.
DAMN....why not the Bangles..or the frigging Eagles...WHY the Ramones dying 1-2-3 in such a short period of time?????
I'm upset....and I hope you are. I'm gonna do something about it..by getting shitfaced and knocking back shots for the man..if you want to just be miserable and sober that's YOUR fucking fault.
I'm on my way to plop "rocket to Russia" on the turntable. R.I.P. Johnny...
OK....our interstate company is gone. Here I am...whoopee.
I'm still too fucking busy to do more than bitch about petty b.s.
I'm just too fucking busy...with the C.O.S. supershow coming up and all to uncork a big entry here.
What the fuck..we'll BE THERE...and do our share of damage.
Especially at the damned bar.
I hear folks from Chile to frigging Chernobyl (?!) will be there..I'll try to welcome them all to Texas with frosty cold bottles of Lone Star.
What more can I do??
It'll be a good time..lots of people will get shitfaced. That's good.
MORE people should focus on getting shitfaced than worry about the upcoming election..that's my opinion...even though my memory of the last supershow down here after which we became stranded travelers thanks to 9-11 is still very fresh in my mind.
Shall we crap?? or pray..to whom or WHAT...??
No..lets DRINK..together at the supershow the weekend of the 24-25th.
You buy me a few..and I'll consider buying a round.
Yeah..you can buy the new Rancid Vat CD there..likely.
Yeah..you can braid your bunghole hairs at home if you don't dig the sort of music that'll be happening there. It won't be all things to all people...but it will be an overdose of joy and jollyness to those who give a shit. It'll be the show of the goddamned year (as usual) to the faithfull.
The CRAMPS (whom I consider the best current band in the world) will be playing down the street on 9/24 BEFORE we kick things off at Emo's. It was nice of them to arrange that. HANK III cancelled out of that show. Shit.
I'll be front and center at the Melvin's ( fellow former Pacific NorthWest denizens) show on 10/06..since my writing was included in their great band history book..it's only right; but hey..that's a while after the super show. Maybe the proverbial shithouse will be burnt to the ground forcing a change of venue.
Maybe your stinky old Grandpa will pass baby kittens through his urethra..and you'll be forced to cleanse them with your forked tongue or forfeit your right to challenge the vomitational flow of the universe.
Yeah, I'm drunk..just a little bit.
I'd be drunker if your old lady wasn't so damned greazy......G.R.E.A.Z.Y.
Look it up in your rock and roll encyclopedia...UURRPPP