01-31-01 to 05-23-01
This one's for all of you poor working bastards who hate your job.
My sleep schedule is incredibly fucked up right now. I slept from 2:00 A.M. to 5:40 A.M. whereupon I hopped out of the sack and back in front of the computer. I had a couple disgracefully long naps yesterday before practice...and I guess my body had just had enough rest. I dropped Elvis off at school before 8:00 A.M. and was the 1st in line at the post office to pick up mail.
Walking out of the post office is when it hit me..a sort of disgusting deja vu flashback to the days when I used to have to hustle my ass at 8:00 A.M. or so to an office job that was killing me.
A few select faces of fuckers I really hated flashed before my eyes..that big mouthed, obnoxius old broad Kay....fat Jose...that ugly old piece of shit Angie with her sandpaper voice (she used to cross herself whenever I walked within 15 feet of her). Those were some of the latest but not neccessarily the worst I dealt with over the years..my quarter century of reporting to bosses. I still think about Regional manager Dale out there in L.A...I'd gladly make a deal with the devil to severe my pinky finger in exchange for the thrill of choking that sanctimonius piece of crap to death. Lately I've been thinking quite a bit about an asshole I worked with named James at Allegro imports.
I know not when or if my hour of returning to the work force will come.
I'm the goddamned JOBJUMPER...I literally wrote the book delving into the many varities of misery, shame and humiliation served to lowly workers 40 hours per week at the American workplace.
Could I go back to it??
Someone will have to find me the next job..and it'll have to be a good one. I'd be as useless as a spent condom trying to find work. I blew my wad when I wrote the book...in my mind I had to DWELL on the negative aspects of the jobsearch to write the book truthfully. It'd be like expecting a guy who wrote a book about germs to floss his teeth with a dead dogs butthair.
(Even thinking about it this much makes me want to bring this to a close so I can get cracking finding Ebay junk.)
I bet a few of you are reading this on the job sitting in a nice cozy cubicle or office along with a hot steaming cup of coffee and a sweet sweet pastry.
I wager a lot more of you would get shitcanned if you surfed the net on the job..and you're reading this at home in your crappy apartment at night..with a few cans of Schlitz at your side...unable to sleep after a miserable, unsatisfying day taking crap from some suit at the salt mine.
Well....if this is you..this is FOR you. I'm here in front of this dusty monitor thinking about you..YOU. YOU..the one who's always talking big about how you're gonna quit the job; well, it's 9:30 A.M. now in Hostile city..and you've got 7 more hours to work. I'm gonna go downstairs in a minute and crack open a nice frosty cold beer and thank myself for finally taking the plunge a couple years ago..for finally saying TAKE THIS JOB..and SHOVE IT!!
The cold suds will trickle down my throat..while you're being bossed around by some twerp you could probably beat the shit out of..
But oh NOOO!!!! You don't dare even look cross or talk back to Mr. Twerp and his sweaty mustache...he'd write you up for insubordination. He's your MASTER....you'll be groveling for him until they lay you off..or promote him and bring in another little twerp.
It's YOUR CHOICE that you're reporting to that job tomorrow...you can go collect your final pay and tell 'em all to fuck off tomorrow...or you can bend over and put it off.
It's YOUR choice..
As for my present choice..now let's see...should I drink some more beer and take a nap..or go hit the thrift stores and take a nap later?? decisions, decisions.
Been busy as hell writing. I'm about to sit down to bang some more out..and it's 8:20 A.M. ..I still get drunk once every 24 hours or so but my hours of drinking don't always coincide with my hours writing. Being a huge Bukowski fan I figured for years I had to be drinking to write. Of course, the proof is in the quality of what is churned out. I still constantly question every chapter and snippet several times over..I'm sure Marla and Elvis get tired of hearing me talking out loud to myself about this angle or that. Occasionally I'll ask one of them a question to guage their reaction. I wrote one chapter about the time a bunch of 3rd graders (I was in 2nd grade) actually fashioned a jumprope into a noose to hang me with. They actually led me to a baseball backstop and were looping the rope over the cyclone fence..when luckily they were stopped by a crabby old lady. Even though I question 80% of what I write by nature..I think I did a pretty damn good job on that particular anecdote.When I read it to Elvis his reaction was deadpan..."hhm. OK". By Elvis's standards, that's like setting off skyrockets. I whooped for joy at my creation. If he had said..."yeah..yeah..that's great stuff Pa.." I might have gotten worried that I had fucked up and he was trying to make me feel good. It's hard to explain how I interpret he and his Mother's reactions. A normal reaction for Marla to one of my chapters is a confused "HHMMPH" sound. She'll express some doubt or confusion most of the time...for which I am ready with an explanation. By explaining it out loud to her (I'm usually a bit impatient) it cements in my mind what I need to do with the piece. I may scoff at her questioning my work and imply I'm going to preserve every word, but often I'll seize upon an idea for a re-write while explaining to her what she missed. More than half the time when I read something to one of them I'm inflicting punishment..they've simply heard most of what I have to say over the years. When I detect even a tiny spark of interest I feel like I'm doing damn well.
Bukowski wrote a poem condemning writer's that read to their wife..I think he had a point..but I don't think his criticism applies to me.
I tell you what..the problem with so many Bukowski fans who aspire to write is that they take him literally. That's why they so often come across as emulators. You've got to break off from him..as great as he was his weaknesses are right there in plain sight. I don't pretend to be a pimple on his ass as a writer..and it was one of the great moments of my life just to shake his hand; but I'll be damned if it isn't a convenient STARTING point for a written piece when you locate a poorly thought out idea on his part.
Of course his harshest critics have NO CLUE. I heard a talk radio "film expert" piss and moan about what a horrible monster and lousy writer ol' Buk was. The radio guy was a fucking PRUDE..a SISSY. Of COURSE he'd feel that way about "Barfly"...if he liked Barfly that would mean Der Buker had fucked up I guess. The fruitcake is a big Julia Roberts fan..of course. Oh...he also likes that other cunt I can't stand..uh..what's her name..I hate her teeth..uhh..she was in "Sleepless in Seattle". I once punished myself (it strengthens me to) by watching an entire movie she was in on the tube..it was a light romantic comedy about her and I think James Belushi emailing each other. Or was it that creep who ruined the 1st 90's BATMAN movie?? Shit..I get these "talents" (HAH!) confused.
Shit..maybe I DO need a drink after all...thinking about all the assholes that revere mainstream actors and actresses of today...BWWAAHH!
Jim Varney was the greatest cinematic light of our time..and he is gone.
After a bit of a break we're having a Rancid Vat practice tonight. Eric Perfect has left on good terms..he's practicing several nights a week with Limecell and having a great time..so, we've found another guy named Eric..tonight's his big chance to break out of the happy merry-go-round of local bands and become part of a genuine C.O.S. band.
Will he be man enough???
Another junkie bites the dust...a guy I worked at TOWER records with. He was found I am told on Mother's day..dead dead dead. Happy Mother's day Ma...
HAMMERLOCK'S song "Sunshine" runs through my mind at times like this..
"Every time a junkie dies the sun shines a little brighter"
I'm afraid when I heard the news it was night already, so I'm not sure in this case. Sounds cruel?? well, maybe..so what..Toby ain't around to read this and be offended. I know I might sound like Ward Cleaver to some of you, but I feel a little bit...a thimble full or so of sympathy towards his parents.
I have absolutely no moral compunctions against anyone taking any drug of any sort including heroin. Legalize it all I say..just like alcohol. Even with the ridiculously high sin taxes on booze I still have NEVER heard of even one drunk who had to go around stealing to get drunk every day.
It's not the governments place to make moral judgements about what drugs we consume...it's ALSO not the governments place to manufacture or provide drugs and ESPECIALLY not to provide expensive country club rehab. I think we need to go back to a sort of frontier mentality concerning drugging, drinking and smoking. If you choose to do it, well YOU DID IT. Don't expect the rest of us to bail you out.
Toby managed in his brief 25 year or so life to illustrate so many of my basic points that I'm always rambling on and on about in columns. He never matured into a man as far as I can tell..he was always bouncing around from one music oriented liefstyle to another...a mod for a while..a punk rocker for awhile...into jazz one week..and starting up a noise project the next. Hey..you can be into ALL those kinds of music at once..but you don't need to go out and buy a new wardrobe to go along with a new pile of records and CD's.
When Toby was hired at Tower I actually LIKED him..for 3 days or so. He was a new employee which meant he couldn't mope around and act too cool to talk until he had been around for a bit. He seemed like a smart guy who had heard a lot of different music. He actually seemed to be a capable enough listener to differentiate between good and bad music within a genre. As the weeks went by it seemed like he talked less and less to me and most of the other employees. His facial expressions spoke for him...he looked increasingly moody and grumpy most of the time.
I didn't really deal with Toby for a few months at all. About a month after I was promoted to supervisor I had to write him up for taking an incredibly long 5 minute break. He was infuriated! In my mind it was a simple case of being caught in a minor infraction of the rules. I looked at the clock as he walked out the door and since it was a very busy day and the register lines were getting long I kept an eye open waiting for him to get back to work. It took over 20 minutes. The store manager suspended him for a day. Like I say..big deal..a day off. Why was he so pissed?? Around this time I learned he was shooting dope..(gee..I wonder what he was doing during his overly long smoke break?) which isn't any big deal for Tower employees. Hell, probably a dozen other clerks were. Toby didn't seem to be a very happy guy as a heroin user. It got to the point where he was ALWAYS moody and pissed off. He became one of my least favorite clerks..his communication skills began to decline; he was always getting into disputes with customers. More than likely a lot of them were put off by his permanently annoyed facial expressions.
One day Bill Crawford another one of the supervisors walked up to me laughing. "Toby says he's the smartest person in the store!!" I shook my head. I had never seen any evidence to back that claim. Perhaps he achieved high marks in high school....all I knew was that he was a moody prick who couldn't even handle a basic bonehead job like Tower. I'd always hear that Toby was playing in a band with this person or that. It would have been a perfect opportunity to show the world his true genius I suppose..but as far as I know he never accomplished a damn thing.
I forget whether he was fired or if he quit. I'd see him moping along South street now and then. He wasn't an enemy. I think he eventually got over me writing him up..he'd even nod at me from across the street. I'd nod back. My friend Geoff saw him outside of a Wawa convenience store a couple weeks ago behind the wheel of a cab. Geoff says he looked like hell..he weighed only about 90 pounds. I'll give him credit for working to earn his dope money rather than be out thieving and stealing.
Well, it's all over for Toby now. We'll never hear his band..or learn why he was so much smarter than the rest of us at Tower. He probably thought he was too smart to O.D. He probably looked down his nose at non-users who tried to talk sense to him. I bet a lot of friends and relatives will stand over his casket tomorrow crying their eyes out. What a waste...what a waste they'll say. Maybe a couple of his dope buddies will feel bad and vow to kick the stuff...of course, not today...not after such a heavy experience...next week. Yeah, me too. ...next week.
Mothers day...here's a tip of the glass for all you Mothers out there...whether you deserve it or not. I have no bigtime grudge against my Mother out in Eugene Oregon. My upbringing sucked..but at some point I realized how much worse it could have been. Let that be a lesson to all you Mother haters. I'm leading by example.
On the other hand, I'm not blindly enthusiastic about Mother figures on the whole...(and I probably am even more sceptical about Father's for that matter)..I am shocked when I hear some guys talk about their Mothers as if they were goddesses. I'd feel strange breaking the news to any one of them...but few Mothers are worth THAT sort of devotion. Mothers are the ones who plant tiny seeds in our brains that wind up growing into treesized paranoia's , phobias and guilt trips. They fuck with our minds from the cradle to the grave in many cases.
Mothers collectively provide more bitching, pissing and moaning than even bosses or school teachers. All too few Mothers achieve a state of blissful content in their golden years...more often we here:"you never call".."you never visit"..and: "It's a good thing your Father isn't alive to see you do this to me".
Here's one from my own life:"your cousin Jeffrey likes to take HIS Mother shopping for shoes.."
Now THAT'S one I'll never be able to live up to!!
It's a well known fact that a lot of guys (particularly Italians) will fight on the spot..I mean at the drop of a hat if you say anything about their Mother...even if you've NEVER MET her..and are simply saying "go fuck yer Mutha"....or "ahhhh yer Mother's ass" in a generic manner. THAT'S overdoing it...if you don't believe me, try it some time on an Italian guy.
One of my favorite serial killers was a dude that operated out of San Jose in the 70's..Ed Kemper. He wasted a lot of time and effort picking up and butchering hitchhiking coeds; finally he dealt with the TRUE source of his problems...his bitchy MOM. He hacked her head off and stuck her head over the fireplace. Then, he threw darts at it for awhile. Feeling finally free and purified he turned himself in to authorities. Today he seems cured..the interviews I've seen with him impress me..he's a very together guy. A success story!
Perhaps there should be a special legal defense for those who kill their Mother...a defensive angle that allows them to explain to a jury of their peers WHY they felt like they needed to kill Ma. I bet alot of them would walk free...
What's this?? The TV just announced that Puffy has declared himself and Jennifer Lopez the Frank Sinatra/Ava Gardner of our time. Yeah..and I'm Rasputins footlong limp pecker!
A week ripped out of my life by the WFMU record fair in NYC. Damn, the preparation is tedious..so many fucking details that my mind is too crammed full to even think about this diary..or answering email. I've been getting little zingers from people whom I owe email to...I can't blame them for wanting timely recognition..it's impossible right now though. I am a damn great guy in the long run though..even the most moronic question from a total stranger eventually gets answered.
Once about 6 months ago I got a detailed 4 page email from a total stranger. He had a huge list of thoughtful questions about my bands, my writing, etc. Every time I looked at his email I knew that if I ever started answering him it would take about 2-4 hours setting me behind in several other areas. So, I waited planning to eventually give him a thorough response.
In a few days I got a snotty 2nd email from the same fellow.."well Whiskey Rebel..I guess you're too damn good to answer me..blah blah blah..". I emailed him back immediately and pointed out that if you want a one line answer, send a one line question..if you send 4 pages you're gonna get the same back..but when I'M ready. Later that week I sent him a thoughtful 3 page response answering most of his questions...
And I NEVER HEARD from him again.
On to happy news..
We've decided after thinking it over that we're going to take the plunge and begin to officially assemble a 2nd issue of our ALL DRINKING STORIES MAGAZINE.."Drink around the clock". We've received a helluva lot of questions about when II was going to come out..so, it's time to do it. Issue #1 was a hit with the "people" but it received mixed reviews from distributors. I remember one in particular who told us in a haughty manner to "check back with us after your 6th issue".
We'll start spreading the word immediately...ANYBODY can submit a drinking story..by email, mail or hand delivery. It's not that we are desperate for stories that we welcome contributions from anyone, it's just that many of the best stories we've received in the past have been from people who barely know how to write. Likewise we're welcoming with open arms stories from people who USED to drink...I'm interested in knowing how far somebody fell before they threw in the towel.
I was disappointed to see an issue of HITLIST hit the stands without a column from me. Unfortunately I've never received a deadline ahead of time from them..whereas fellow Hostile City columnist Leslie Goldman receives word well ahead of time evidently on a routine basis. I emailed Jeff Bale about this...I think they bookmarked our email address before it changed a while back and never updated it. I left on one of my book promotion jaunts and was away from home when their deadline hit evidently.
I've been following the headlines out of Cinncinatti (SP?) concerning the cops vs. young black men fued. I consider coverage of this "issue" to be an incredibly poor representation of BOTH friggin' sides. The black community is represented by vague headlines like "black community upset in wake of indictments"..
Now HOLD ON!! Just who has "spoken" on behalf of the black community?? Some reporter talks to a couple ministers and self appointed "activists" and suddenly they have their finger on the pulse of the "people".
FUCK them...QUESTION headlines like that!!
WHY haven't we received an explanation in DETAIL of what happened that led to the shooting?? I smell a coverup..perhaps there has been a thorough representation from the side of the police department..but I certainly haven't seen it. Is it that the press refuses to print negative things about the alleged "victim"?? I saw the press conference in which the police chief spoke in front of a display of photos of 14 white cops shot by black males. I was surprised it wasn't censured by the press...
My take on all of this: #1) I'd be scared shitless myself of being stopped by cops if I was a young black male...WHY?? because as a whitetrash bearded male I'm scared shitless when I get pulled over by cops. #2) If I was a white cop in a city where 14 white cops had been shot by young black males I'd be SCARED shitless too!!
I'm sick and fucking tired of people talking as if there is some mysterious phenomena at work here. The cops have good reason to bitch about peoples unrealistic expectations. They are ONLY HUMAN. If I was a cop and I thought a guy was pulling a gun on me I'd damn well shoot him first. Still, they have done little to represent their side of the story to the community and onlookers around the world. What have they done to educate the masses as to how to behave when stopped by a police officer??
I've had a bellyful of "activists" claiming to represent "the people" trying to use this situation to represent all police as racist storm troopers.
That's bullshit...there are plenty of conscientius goddamn white cops who aren't racists. There are undoubtedly some white racist cops..and some black racist cops. Not all young black males fitting a police "profile" are violent hoodlums. But some of them are. Some of them NEED AND DESERVE to be beaten repeatedly with nightsticks to get them into the police car to tote 'em to jail. And some dudes whose greatest crime is a big fucking mouth undeservedly get that sort of treatment too.
I'm sure that it's not possible to educate the majority of "the people" and the far-left and the blind supporters of cops and the black "community". WHY?? because the basic truth here is that people are just NO DAMN GOOD.
It's best to just stock up on liquor and beer and stay home as much as possible. In these days of uncertainty and confusion now more than ever we should fuck our brains out with reckless abandon. SEX..WRESTLING VIDEOTAPES.. PABST BLUE RIBBON BEER..JOHNNY PAYCHECK LP's....LASAGNE..cram every pleasure you can into your gaping maw while you still can, baby..UUrrpp.....
Elvis and I watched a couple hours of old 1981-1983 WWF heel interviews. Lots of Jesse Ventura, Magnificent Muraco, the late great Adrian Adonis, etc. Those guys certainly held up their end of things back then. But I've gotta say I have absolutely no special nostalgia for the Samartino/Backlund era of the WWF. 45 minute long Pedro Morales matches? Good fucking grief!! It's amazing that Vince McMahon managed to elbow out so many regional promotions that were way the hell stronger than his wrestling wise.
I grew up in Portland Oregon watching guys like Piper, Ventura, Snuka, Lonnie Mayne, Adonis, Buddy Rose, Mad Dog Vachon, the Sheepherders (bushwackers), etc. before they achieved greater fame elsewhere. Overall the action was much more vicious and therefore more fun. I'd say based on videotape footage I've seen and old magazines I've read that the territories all over the South..Georgia Championship, mid-South, Mid Atlantic, St. Louis, etc were all more exciting than the WWWF up in New England. I can understand people being loyal and nostalgic to the yankee wrestling they were raised on though.
Now that ECW and WCW are gone I'm as eager as anybody to see what sort of indy promotions pop up. I hereby swear on my can of PBR to devoutly support small fledgling independant wrestling promotions in any way I can. I wish somebody would tell me EXACTLY WHERE AND WHEN I need to go to experience "soul city" wrestling here in Philly.
There are simply too many skilled unemployed wrestlers out there and too many enterprising promoters for there NOT to be an onslaught of indy cards and I want to be part of it.
Guess what?? I've been to lots of wrestling shows..many ECW and old NWA cards, USWA and Smokey once each and even the UWF once in L.A.
But I've NEVER been to a live WWF show...
Sorry Vince! I'm incredibly entertained by what they do these days..ever since they wrenced wrestling back out of the grubby paws of undeserving children. I attribute this to a few reasons..
1) I can't stand huge sellout crowds..and they're so successful they're always sold out..
2) I consider myself "above" idiots that wave signs at cameras..
3) Good seats are very, very expensive and they sellout quick..
Another Whiskey Rebel factoid: I rarely smoke pot..but I prefer it to alcohol when attending wrestling shows..yes..it's true!
The worst attended show I've ever been to was a "golden state wrestling" show at the "Music machine" in Los Angeles. The wrestlers outnumbered us fans about 12 to 9. I felt guilty getting up in the middle of a match to use the damn bathroom. I cheered vigorously for a "nazi" gimmick wrestler that night; afterwards he came up to me and said softly.."hey man, you aren't really into that shit are you?" I replied: "Hell NO!..but I figured you needed all the help you could get tonight!".
When staying last week in Chicago as a guest of Mid-American Wrestling legend Reverand Axl Future I made the comment that I reached my full maturity as a wrestling fan when I realized how fucking great Ricky Morton is. I wonder just how many of my loyal "Whiskey Rebel-Roos" out there know where I'm coming from??
Big day tommorow..I'm on the guest list for the Merle Haggard show in Lancaster Pa. I get to bring one guest. Marla and Elvis figured they are equally enamored of Merle. We'd all three go, but the tickets are $55..FUCK!! We never buy tickets, so it seems a bit steep to us. Marla reminded me that when we last saw Bowie at a huge 50,000 seat arena the tickets were $32. I remember Prince fans raising hell with us when I worked the "ticketmaster" desk at Tower over $75 tickets. Sometimes Atlantic city boxing tickets would be $300-$400 a pop for the best seats. I loved it when some asshole would swagger up the desk with a stogie hanging out of his mouth; he'd wave a meaty paw and saw "give me the 4 best seats you got"...and I'd happily chortle.."O.K....that'll be $1600 plus a $4 service charge per ticket! That usually put the high roller in his place!!
We bought a new I-Mac yesterday...DAMN! It takes me about a minute to relist an Ebay item as opposed to 10 minutes. The java script errors were fucking killing me. I love the classic country radio tunes of course..the keyboard is slightly different..but who CARES. I couldn't help but feel a little bit like a chump knowing that when we got the last computer I was really happy....at first. I'm sure this one will be outmoded in a couple years. Shit...
I saw a lot of weird fuckers today making the rounds of thrift stores. Getting my coffee I encountered a middleaged black dude who was standing leaning on the counter where you get coffee. He was just standing there ranting..looking at no one in particular....
"I AIN'T gonna fucking listen to DAT sheeit. You can get da fuck OUTTA here wit dat sheeit...FUCK YOU....FUCK YOU! I don't care...I DON'T CARE! You can damn shove it....you are NOT wise to my ways..I have my own WAYS...uh huh. Uh huh. I do not GIVE a damn. UM Hmmmm....I don't care...what?? say what?? I don't CARE!!..."
I calmly poured milk into my coffee...and slowly walked away. He kept babbling..there was NOBODY within 20 feet of him.
It was one of those unique Hostile City days where EVERYBODY is a scofflaw. At a half dozen or so intersections morons made abrupt, dangerous left turns in front of me when the light changed. I got behind a white guy..about 50 years old in a gentlemanly looking pickup truck. He was the first car behind the red light..at a complete stop..I was directly behind him. About 3 seconds before the light officially changed he tired of waiting and lurched through the still red light. Up ahead..same situation. He waited patiently until about 3 seconds before the light changed....and then shot through the intersection. It happened at a 3rd and then a 4th interesection. What does it mean?? Why is that guy different from the 1,000,000 or so drivers on the road today in Hostile city that would've waited..picking their noses perhaps..for the light to change?? Was he making a "statement"??
I fucking hate "statements" unless they come from geniuses like G. Gordon Liddy or Ted Nugent or Larry fucking Flynt. "Symbolic" gestures are usually made these days by do-gooders with halfbaked ideas.
Marla, Elvis and I got into a discussion about fools....yes, I SAID F-O-O-L-S who attempt to flee from cops who are pulling them over..or who smartoff to 'em. I've witnessed hundreds of situations involving badass loss prevention security officers, city cops and shoplifters from working in retail for years. If you attempt to run from them, or give them a phony name in most cases YOU ARE FUCKING YOURSELF in the ass. Your best bet is to come clean with them; they hold your immediate future in their hands. I've seen cops and security fuzz cut people a lot of slack..but never after they've been played with. If you get pulled over after drinking a few....fucking CO-OPERATE you fool!! I've talked my way out of it..and so have many of my friends.
I've seen lots of people snap and go berzerk..fighting, clawing and foaming at the mouth. And you know what?? I don't blame cops for putting the boots to these fuckers...what else are they gonna do??
When a junkie broke into our house and stole our guitars in 1984..who got 'em back for us?? one of our cool junkie friends? of course not..an alert cop. When I hit a dude who staggered drunk into the road in front of my van..who calmed me and took evidence at the scene that nipped the guys bogus lawsuit in the bud? that's right..a cop.
Naive anarchist's dream of a world without cops...never imagining the fucking chaos and hell on earth blood bath we'd have if they were disbanded. Do-gooders and anti-gun types will be the first to go if our government ever collapses. PEOPLE JUST AREN'T FUCKING GOOD by nature..without cops or some form of law and order the most capable predators would ravage the biggest sissies among us first...such as peacepunks and hippies that love to hold candlelight vigils..then, they'd come after the rest of us.
Don't come around me crying about young black men shot by cops unless you're crying too for the cops shot by young black men. HHmmm..I wonder what the score is?? In Cinncinatti the recent score is 14 dead white cops, 4 dead young black men. The problem with the thinking of the do-gooders who are wringing their hands is they see it as a problem with the COPS alone. I'm not denying that some cops are total fucking thugs..we WANT MEAN BASTARDS when they're on our side nabbing the bastard junkies who steal our guitars. It's unfortunate that so many black guys have been conditioned by a steady stream of black vs. white rap horseshit lyrics. C'mon guys!! Don't run from the cops...if they are racist thug cops you're only giving them a reason to fill you with lead; if they aren't you're just throwing your life away..or at the least inviting them to beat you up good.
Oh yeah....as for you simpleton's whining about racial profiling...I can think of 2 situations right off where I've been pulled over by cops looking for somebody who resembled either me or my car. In both cases I had booze on my breath..in both cases I was polite and helpful..in both cases they apologized and let me go. It's just plain part of police work..if a guy with a red beard driving a ford truck raped your fucking Aunt Lulu I bet you'd advocate the cops pulling over any guys who resemble the creep..right??
If the do-gooders want to REALLY accomplish something, they'd band together and finally legalize drugs all around ending the "war" on drugs which is responsible for a helluva lot of conflict between cops and the citizenry.
Of course, that's too practical...it'll never happen. The bible creeps get all shaken up by that kind of talk. Mankind if FUCKED UP...BAD by nature...illogical and ignorant..yet happily set in their ways.
Like our song says..it's a BAD BAD BAD BAD species.
You can't make a silk purse out of a pigs ear...oh hell.. I needa drink.
I'm finally back from Chicago. I had to cancel the radio show in Cleveland at the last minute to rush home to take Marla to a damn doctor..and then when I get home she says "I feel better now". Well, she's damn well going to the Doctor tommorow anyhow. Sorry to Russ and Greg and all my "WhiskeyRebel-roos" in Cleveland.
Columbus was a mixed bag. The bookstore "Monkeys retreat" was great..a topnotch store loaded with smut and hard to find shit. Attendance was poor but the conversation with the guy running the joint made it all worthwhile. I read a couple pieces and repaired with Paul Bearer and a swell friend of his to the tavern I was booked at. It was a weird, W-E-I-R-D scene there...the bands were average age 17 I'd say..and their friends were all there making it a goddamned too young audience for the Whiskey Rebel to bellyache about jobs to. I mean, hell most of 'em probably have never held a job more responsible than Dairy FUCKING Queen. I was glad to see a roomful of kids all listening to guitar-oriented rock and roll...VERY low on the wigger factor scale. The idea of me appearing on that bill was about like booking Don Rickles with Hanson. I don't blame Larry...I FUCKING APPLAUD all his hard work; All he can do is take the bookers word as the truth. I don't blame the club owner/booker..she was being cool letting dozens of underaged kids drink brazenly. I got up and turned my old "Blackeyed pea camping-trip-explosive shit" into a Joe Friday type warning lecture: "Kid's, don't submit to peer pressure and "do" the whole can". Oh well...it didn't go as bad as I expected. Still, it went right over the kids heads.
Chicago began with an appearance at a "poetry slam".
Of course I'm NOT a poet. I was booked aside from the competitive poetry reading. I went on early and read my "city hall shit" piece to a mixed bag of people. Several old rich looking people..about 1/3rd black 2/3rd's white audience. Really nice bar and furniture. It seemed to go over all right. Hearty applause...but as I was to soon see most folks were there cheering on a friend or two. I'm glad I read before looking at their faces. I'm not sure I can explain exactly why...
I expected really sappy, self indulgent poetry. For the most part it wasn't nearly what I expected it all to be. The finalists were all black guys reading very rhythmic poetry pretty damn well. It seems that 3 of them were from a "team" that competes all the time. I had an enjoyable time. I'm glad the guy that organized it..Shappy..put me on early so I could just sit and get hammered. I drank a slew of 16 ounce "Old Style's". Overall a fine experience.
The next night was a reading at a great bookstore named Quimby's. It's the sort of store where I actually respect about 80% of the titles they carry. Quimby's is the place to shop for books in Chicago that Barnes & Noble probably don't have the balls to carry. They also carry lotsa obscure comics, stuff that squares think is "obscene"...yunno.
The staff was great..they even had a big load of OLD STYLE. My old pal Imants (he's ordered stuff from us since 1982 through the mail!) had come down from Canada with a couple friends. He brought me a delicious 6 pack of Labatts blue. A fair to small turnout attendance wise, but they were all buying books, CD's, mag's, etc. Very much into it. I read several pieces from the book...and wound up with a bit from "Diapers for Grandpa" which is just about sold out (we only did 100).
The next night The Reverend Axl Future and I walked into Delilah's and were at first sad to learn that the owner hadn't told the staff about my appearance. Luckily, it turned out that the two guys working the bar were huge C.O.S. fans. So were a couple other's working a later shift. It all worked out great. Lotsa great conversation..the "Makers Mark" was flowing and I read several drinking stories from "Drink around the clock" to a decent crowd of regulars. Fucking enthusiastic bunch..HEAVY fucking drinkers. Sold lotsa magazines, CD's, books etc.
A guy who bought a book went out to bring back a friend..a nice lady who has held 30 or so jobs. I gave her a "Diapers.." and think I recommended that she apply for work at Home Depot next.
A couple guys from a great band "Pistolero" showed up. I drank for 7 hours in all. A great bar and a damn fine time. The best part was doing my thing for a load of ordinary thirsty barflies. One guy who showed up late asked me "hey man..is it your birthday? Everybody keeps buying you shots??
Chicago seems much more "practical" than Hostile city. The whole fucking midwest is like that though. No trash or slime in the streets..our crackheads could kick their crackheads asses for damnsure.
I'm glad to be sitting back here in front of the old computer..Phil Hendrie show in the background. A jug of Ezra and several beers at my side.
Goddamn there's a pile of mail, email to answer. Lots of EBAY work to be done. We gotta buy and figger out a new computer...WFMU record show is coming up. Back to the fucking grind.
I finished off a Ted Williams biography...and Bukowski's "Open all night" which I picked up at Quimby's. I'm re-reading "Elmer Gantry" by Sinclair Lewis whom the Buk turned heel on.
My bowel movements for a week+ were very routine and tidy and un-eventuful...for once. The Rev and I watched probably 40 hours of wrestling tapes in 4 days. I can't even begin to comment or I'll have to forget about my night of Ebay listings.
Elvis 3000 is back while the Whiskey Reb is in the Midwest
4/20......R.I.P. Joey Ramone
Hello, it's me King Elvis making my first journal entry in my father's absence. First off, I apologize for not writing a journal entry earlier this week. I've either been too tired or busy.
I now have to acknowledge the unfortunate passing of the great Joey Ramone. Though he died this past Easter, I haven't been here yet. It was a surprise to me, he was supposed to be one of the immortals. Well, he would've wanted us all to keep rocking and partying like any other day. I was happily surprised on the attention it got, Yahoo had it for a headline, I was told NBC and another major station ran a large cover of it too.
The Phillies are in first place for their division, thanks to timely hitting and a great bullpen. The A's unfortunately are in last. I guess that evens things out, last year it was vice-versa.
For the past few months in school, my play writing class (remember it's a arts school.) has been working on putting up the play "12 angry men" changed to "12 angry PEOPLE" because there's only 6 guys out of the 25 in the sophomore writing department. I am one of the 2 main characters, there are actually about 6 but I have either the most or 2nd most lines in a 70 page play. I get to play a guy who is on a jury and yells and screams a lot. I'm perfect, because I have the Irwin male screaming power, and I don't care if I look like a fool screaming to an actor. Plus I'm just a good actor.
About 1 paragraph from this sentence I said I'm in an "arts" school, I guess I'll bitch about that for a while. The teachers and staff keep giving us bull that we all have an art. I'm a writer, NOT an artist...the painters and sculptors are artists. The dancers are NOT artists, the actors are NOT, neither are the singers and musicians. Why are we all classified as "artists". It's a little thing to get pissed off about, but like Charles Bukowski once said. "it's not going to be a big thing that finishes someone off, it'll be a little thing." (I know I'm stretching a little, but you get the point.)
I dunno, I'm gonna start babbling in a sec, so I the Rev. King Elvis shall say for now....................................................tah.
(For those of you interested, a week from Tuesday I'll be a guest on a great radio show out of Cleveland State at 11:00 pm in whatever their time zone is. Check the Whiskey Rebel tour info for a correct up to date between now and the show..we WILL have accurate info posted by then. I believe those of you with the proper computer setup can "listen" as I read, rant, drink Iron city beer and demand that certain C.O.S. unreleased items be played).
I'm planning the final details for my Columbas, Chicago, Cleveland swing..I'm leaving Monday. I'll peddle all the books and CD's I can, and try to belt out a couple rowdy spoken word rhumba's. Besides that, I'm hanging with good people in each city..and I'm told they all have stocked up on toilet paper.
Damn, everybody's emailing me and asking if I'm over my sickness...yeah, for now. Elvis had it yesterday. I'm feeling tip-top.
Just talked to Jim Goad briefly..he's gonna call back for a longer yakkfest. Sounds like everythings going fine for him out in Snoreland. That's good..I feel like a rodent when I fail to keep in touch with Jim and lots of other people. I need to call Bootleg Bill too especially.
I'll be turning this diary over to King Elvis for the week I'm gone once again. Eventually we'll just set up his own damned diary.
I've gotten some great emails lately..for instance the one from the CONFEDERATE MACK. He hails from Vagina (ewr, Virginny) and he seems to write about all the finer things in life..drinking, wrestling, country music. His site can be reached at www.confederatemack....that'll get ya there. I don't make a habit of plugging websites...so, you know it's right up there with Dory Funk Jr and Dirty Dutch Mantell.
For once in my life I lucked into a low four figure sum of money...as a surprise retirement fund "buy out" from COMMONWEALTH LAND TITLE who I spent 7 1/2 years with. The old bitches I worked with must've aged me another 10 years though. I went into the job with brown beard and hair and came out with Reed Richards temples and a Leon Russell beard. Anyway, the money is damned well needed badly to replace one of our computers. We have two Mac's...I need to find the best deal on a PC to do my Ebay'in with. It's gotten so bad that to post an item I have to get past 5 or 6 pop-up Java script error windows (once again alcohol saves the day; without the almighty bottle to turn to I'd have destroyed that fucking Mac a long time ago). I'm sure it won't be a big problem to adapt to PC..hell, in the 80's when I worked computers for a living I'd use MSDOS and FOXBASE and all these other fuckedup languages in the course of a day.
Yunno, thinking about Commonwealth land title I still expect to see my final supervisor Jose whom I got busted from his supervisor position in a grocery store or dollar store..sometime I don't expect it. He lives very close as far as I know. When we meet punches will be exchanged for sure. I'm not sure who is more pissed off at who...at least I can look him in the eye and laugh and tell him he's been immortalized in obscure small press literature. Well, I may want to do that AFTER popping him a few in his 400 pound gut (he's a big boy). In spite of his girth he was always in love with his fat face. I'll do whatever I can to rip into it to maximize his misery (hey..that's a good song title.."Maximize your misery").
I'm sure Jose will get a few good ones in too...but, I DON'T CARE..and that makes all the difference. I don't care if I'm jailed for such a righteous cause...or sued, or scarred up. I'll sleep well the night we tangle...he'll cry like a pussyboy...and probably sleep with his badbreathed, saggytit ugly Mother.
Happy birthday to me.
(Those of you who forgot to send gifts, get 'em in the mail pronto..It's never too late to show me how much you love me).
I learned a couple hours ago that a short term Rancid Vat bass player shot himself to death in the face today; that's what happens I guess if you can't cut the mustard with our band.
I know, I know...tasteless joke..I tell you what though, if I had been the one buying the farm I'm sure he would say worse about me.
He only played with us once (at a local show) and quit immediately after. It was a real bloodbath spectacle performance..I had two black eyes so bad after the show my eyes almost were almost swollen shut for a couple days. It took me a couple weeks to recover from my own masochistic idiocy. The fella told Howie when he quit that he was sure that if his Mother knew he had participated in such a display of evil like we had put on that she would have called an exorcist on us!!
I thought it was all in a days work really...this show took place a few years ago and I had only seen him once since. He wasn't an enemy..truth is I had almost forgotten he existed. I bet his Mom's probably REALLY pissed now.
I haven't made any attempt to hide the fact that this diary was inspired (all right, we STOLE the idea) from Bill Nelson's internet diary. Bill ceased to post entries for awhile..after getting pissed off at a fan who left insulting messages on the discussion bulletin board. I'm glad he's finally back. I don't have many other websites to check on a daily basis anymore.
What the hell..it's not like I don't have enough to do. I reread a lot of what I've written already for a book thats well over half done. It won't be as long as JOBJUMPER which was 344 pages..probably a bit less than half that size unless I get carried away. It seems like it's taken forever to get as far as I have. I've been slowed down big time by the bursitis in my left shoulder which pisses me off. In the end the delays might be a good thing. I don't want to trowel out the same shit that I cover writing in this diary or in columns for magazines. At least it'll be 95% brand spanking new subject matter.
Enough chest thumping..I wanna go off on a completely different tangent ...
In my opinion much of the casual writing I read in emails or letters is often way the hell more entertaining to me than "serious" writing that is published. I get a lot of comments all the time from people that say something like " hey REBEL..I buy HITLIST for your column..but the rest of it sucks". I agree that a lot of the columns are uninspired, long winded and disposable. It all comes down to the fact that in spite of the editors sincere attempts to field a hitsquad of entertaining columnists, a lot of the better known columnists simply have no apparent burning need to say anything. It's old hat for them to contribute to zines. Hell, too bad they can't publish some of the rants that arrive in my mailbox instead! The people I'm referring to don't consider themselves "writers"...They communicate simply to spew out what they have to say. A fine example is the email I get from Travis and Liza Kinney ( the folks from the band HAMMERLOCK). They don't fancy themselves writer's..and there's always a hundred misspellings and grammatical errors...but by god they can relate an impromptu story about a weekend fishing trip that blows the doors off of 99% of zine columns. One time they sent me an email in which they actually kept ripping the keyboard out of each others grasp to get their ideas across.
I got a poetry rag in the mail the other day that featured samples of poetry from well meaning people who all seem to know each other judging by adds included for other zines. There was NOTHING in the entire publication that came within miles of entertaining me. On the other hand, I can listen for instance to Travis and Liza argue over whether an acquaintance of theirs is an asshole or not and be not only entertained, but inspired at their passion and honesty. DID ALL YOU COLUMNISTS AND POETS OUT THERE CATCH THAT? PASSION AND HONESTY.
Another guy who can casually dash off email that's far superior to most writers formal work is my old pal the WIDOWMAKER from COCKNOOSE. He doesn't fancy himself an "artist"..he just knows how to lay down a decent story in a way that you simply CAN'T LEARN FROM A BOOK.
Whenever I get a letter from Devon the drunken janitor in Washington state, I know I'm in for a sloppy, borderline illiterate..but GODDAMNED AMUSING read. Ditto for Dave down in Mississippi (from "Before I hang"). I never know what either of these guys are gonna write next.
Unfortunately, without naming names I already know what a couple HITLIST columnists will probably write about next issue. I hope that if I ever get to be that predictable somebody kicks me in the ass. (Don't get me wrong! HITLIST is infinitely and consistently more entertaining and more truthful than MRR or Punk Planet can ever strive to be without overhauling their commie-punk loving formats. Furthermore even the longest winded Brit-pop column ever printed in HITLIST has merit beyond that chatty, gossipy "scene report" graveyard rag Flipside. I'm proud to contribute to HITLIST...even though I do think it has room for improvement).
Virtually every time I submit a column to HITLIST or to CARBON14 I windup totally trashing the first column I write. I'm almost always happy with the finished product but I'm my harshest critic until I'm done; that's the way it should be. And no, I'm not part of any literary circlejerk sewing circle. Its up to ME to separate the crap I churn out from what really deserves to be read.
A glance above suggests that maybe I'm contradicting myself by beating the subject to death....well, this diary works a bit differently. I'm happy to allow myself to wander around here since it's MY DIARY..not a zine or poetry journal.
I'm drinking COORS and BUD both tonight with shots of Ezra Brooks tossed back from a darkblue shotglass with a metallic gargoyle with sparkling red eyes. I'm reading a "new" biography of Robert E. Lee and rereading my Chick pamphlet collection.
I found tons of Ebay stuff today, and have momentarily at least stopped my bowels up..so hopefully tomorrow I can take the time to return some phonecalls and emails that have stacked up.
What a hellish couple of days it's been..I haven't drank a drop...I've hardly eaten and worst of all I'm forced to ABSTAIN FROM FARTING unless I'm straddling the toilet.
To make matters worse I'm unable to get to sleep...
And so dear diary..even though all 3 of us bedded down hours ago here I am cranking the ol' mac up sleepless and ill. My head hurts..my asshole is scorched and burned beyond repair..I'm mildly nauseous.
It all started somehow Monday night. My regular routine is to watch RAW with Elvis while entering Ebay items. We ate stuff leftover from the night before when an elite and intimate handful of friends came over to watch Wrestlemania on Sunday. I drank three 40 ouncers of beer..one Miller highlife and two Schlitz. We all 3 ate at our own whim..we didn't sit around a table "Walton's" style. Somewhere along the line before any of us were through eating Marla sprayed bug spray at a water bug that was lurking in a kitchen corner. I cursed Marla for not properly covering all of the food containers and pans in the kitchen..she insisted that pots were left only an inch or two open...and cursed me back.
That much we are certain of..
THERE! It happened again just now.. I had to get up from writing this to run upstairs in response to another attack of sudden, foul, watery diarrhea.
I went to bed about 3:45 a.m. in the wee hours of Tuesday a few hours after RAW. At 5:00 a.m. sharp I awoke with a pain in my gut..and an urge to fart.
One of the rewards of being married for so many years is that it's "ok" to let one in bed as long as I'm not pointing my ass at my sweetheart. So, I pointed my ass South towards dixie (my side of the futon) and cracked one. To my horror, I realized I had squirted a couple of tablespoons of fecal matter in my shorts.
I leapt out of bed and hightailed it for the master-bedroom shitter. I dropped my underpants and was disgusted...it doesn't happen very often that I fill my pants....but having broken a societal taboo by writing about diapers and diaper wearers several times I'm on edge waiting for a karmic payback. Could this be IT?? I wondered. I climbed out of my shorts and tossed 'em atop a couple bath towels in a laundry pile by the washing machine. Then I hopped back on the pot and proceeded to spew a huge payload of unexpected diarrhea.
WHOA! I thought....I wasn't all THAT shook up at that point. I slipped into a new pair of briefs and climbed back into the sack.
An hour or so later the same fucking drill repeated itself. ANOTHER innocent fart sent me trotting to the stool..I had to change my shorts again. This has never happened twice in one night.
A few minutes before 8:00 I awoke again with the urge to cut one. This time my brain engaged in time and recognized the pattern that was developing. I made it to the pot..my innocent "fart" was a huge payload of diarrhea once again.
To top things off though, in the middle of my movement I realized suddenly I needed to puke. With asshole dripping I arose and stuck my head into the shower...HHHHHHRRRAAPPP!!!!! 3 volleys.
Fuck, I realized..I really AM fucking sick.
Marla had the day off. Unfortunately it was to go to waste..SHE TOO was puking and shitting at the same time in the downstairs bathroom (remember our old ALCOHOLICS UNANIMOUS song.."Shitting and puking at the same time blues"??).
We compared notes at about noon..we had both puked and shit a lot..at least she had the dignity not to foul her panties. By that hour I had fouled 4 of my JC Penney briefs. We speculated whether poor Elvis at school was undergoing a shitfit.
So, I spent the day sleeping, puking and shitting. By early evening I had slept enough and was no longer barfing. I kept squirting though...and now..here I am on what is technically Thursday morning STILL leaping up to run to the commode every time I feel the urge to fart.
When I tried to sleep earlier I found it hard to nod off since I haven't drank in a couple days. Maybe that's where I went wrong...?!?!?!?! HHmmm....
HHmmm....now there's a thought...we've been arguing for days over whether it was the chili, the dip, the deviled eggs or the bug spray..and maybe all along we simply needed to drink more....what AN OBVIOUS and SIMPLE solution!
I'm shutting this computer down and making a trip down to the frig..(after I run upstairs and squirt some more that is)..
I'm back from the road...hell, I've BEEN back for a few days. For some reason I've had a helluva time getting back into the flow of things including this diary. I've got a couple valid excuses..such as the new info I have to mull over concerning my newly found relatives. I can't go into TOO much detail here since I've decided to protect their privacy for the time being. Suffice it to say it weighs heavily upon my mind just how to condition them to accept some of the more bizarre things I do.
Of course don't suspect for a minute that I'm going to become a milquetoast over it all...I'm not going to change what I do or tone down my behavior in the interest of winning over new relatives as much as I like them.
Over the years it's really fucking hurt at times not to have a family like most people. I've technically got a few Nieces and Nephews (thanks to Marla's siblings) but I've resigned to the fact that I'll probably never meet them. THAT sucks..I'd really like to be a fucking Uncle in spite of my often angry demeanor and bad moods. Now there's a whole new crew of relations..this time actual BLOOD relations to get to know. When I set out to track them down I prepared myself to face rejection; it's gone so well with these folks at first that I've been setting myself up for a terrible slap in the face. I hope it doesn't come to that...I've been feeding these folks little bits of info about me so as to gradually prepare them for the monster that is ME.
I received some photos from my Mother's folks...it was amazing to actually see my Mother for the first time. The pictures of living folks were fun to look at..but I also received a picture of a great-great-great Grandfather who was the head lawman of a town in Idaho probably around the turn of the century. He's wearing a sheriffs badge and is packing what appears to be a Colt 45 (the handgun..NOT the malt liquor stupid). It's damned satisfying to learn I come from real, rugged pioneer stock..loggers, he-men, truckdrivers right up to this generation.
No sign of any musicians or chess players or mathmaticians to speak of on either side though...it's a mystery why I was a frigging child prodigy in those areas. I guess I'm the family egghead runt.
The road to Texas and back was mostly fun. The results of my "appearances" as a published author/philospher ranged from a total no-show bust in Baltimore to squeeling, screeching women in Austin. I thank here and now every guy who bought me a shot or a beer and every gal who lined up for a whiskey-flavored kiss.
I occasionally read from JOBJUMPER during my on-stage times..but more often I resorted to telling tales of flatulence, vomiting and defacation. My "act" is so far different every night tailered to the level of drunkeness I see around me.
I'll be going out on the road again in mid April to Chicago and back with a few stops in between. There are a couple legitimate bookstore readings along the way..and I hear a stop at a bar that claims to stock more brands of whiskey than any other bar in the country(!?)..I'm looking forward to yakking on camera with a TV show rat-puppet..and taking over Russ Murphy's radio show in Cleveland. Most of all, I'm looking forward to smoking up a coupla Rev. Axl Future's choice stogies.
The next direction I'll be heading after that is the Northeast.
I hope people reading this will email to offer detailed suggestions of places I should hit...particularly people with "contacts" and "pull".
I tell you what...the great misery of the fucking open road in America is not knowing where your next bowell movement will take place; clubs, taverns, etc. are NO PLACE to relieve one's self. People are very kind in offering up their guest rooms, their food and alcohol..but I feel guilty whenever I closet myself upon their stools for a much needed crap.
It's not like I destroy my hosts bathrooms..I clean up after myself and dry my hands on my sweatpants when a towel hasn't been provided. It's a fact...within twenty minutes of waking I MUST SHIT. Then, when leaving to hit the road for the next town I MUST crap again to empty myself since gas stations and burger joints have taken to locking their precious shithouses. Is this too much to ask of my hosts???
Driving to Texas and back Jeff Clayton must have heard me gripe 20 times about how I can't EAT until I know where I'se gwine SHIT. Remember, one leads to the other.
Jeff and I hit the Jimmy Rodgers museum in Meridian Mississippi....I was a bit ill that morning but I perked up when I saw his official guitar exhibited in a safe. It was a great place..and I bought the best, most complete "with the songs I most treasure" Jimmy CD from a lady at the gift shop who could've been his older Sister. The CD is mastered incredibly well..unlike 98% of the repressings in my record vaults. When Jimmy launches into that lead in "muleskinner blues" you can hear the guitar ringing and vibrating like he's in the same room with you. His humor really comes through with the recordings being so clear. It's the BEST way to listen to Jimmy..the recordings I have that sound like Grandpa's old 78 player just sound too muffled in comparison.
Reminds me...when I interviewed Merle Haggard (who recorded a two album tribute to Jimmy Rodgers in the 70's) I asked him if the music biz would recognize his talent and sign Jimmy Rodgers if he came along today (remember..he's billed in the country music hall of fame as the "Father" of country music)..Merle snorted..and instantly replied "HELL NO!!" as if that was obvious. That's the answer I expected..right on Merle.
Thanks to Elvis 3000 for filling this space up while I was gone. We're still sorting out all the marriage proposals and nude photos he recieved from gals who dig his literary styling and profiling.
(King Elvis 3000 is filling in while the Whiskey Reb is on tour)
It is I King Elvis, my father the reb is still out, but should be returning soon. Now for the good part of the entry, the writing by me.
Not many people know it, but I go to a Creative arts school here in Philly. And one thing it heavily lacks, is sports.
I'm currently on the volleyball team, and though it gets me in great shape, I not only suck at it, but I hate it too. (However it's the only sport there)
The thing that has made me almost quit about 50 times in my two year tenure, is that because I'M the new guy, and the weirdo, It's always my fault on a play I had nothing to do with, or a better more experienced player could've done easier. I never thought that there'd even be jocks at an open minded school like mine, and in a sport like volleyball. Football yes, basketball sure, but volleyball?
I know many of you readers were, or are, the punching bags physically and verbally for the jocks at school. Is there a way to get the sports minus the jocks? In my years of playing baseball at all ages, I think that is the least jock filled sport of all. By jock I mean the guys who walk around saying, "Hey man I'm on the team, I can kick your ass." or try to boss you around because they're on the team. Seeing as I'm a big 6'4 motherfucker, I can stand up to them and say "Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?" or just a simple "Fuck off". Another word is never said after.
It does sadden me though that I, a lover of sports, will play any one. (Except soccer, wait I said sports.) Yet, it will always be plagued with jock ass holes. I could never become a jock, maybe because I have an I.Q. it's impossible for that to happen. How many of you have had their sport life ruined because of the jock species.
I said earlier that baseball has probably the least amount of jocks, however, my perfect example is Larry "Chipper" Jones of the Atlanta Braves. Not only does he have the stupidest name, but he has nothing to say in interviews. Yet they'll have him talk for two minutes saying things that would make a frat boy laugh. (Frat boys are the second most idiotic species on Earth.)
Bottom line, jocks will plague us until the end of time, from your first pee-wee football game, to your last game as the replacement water boy for the High School team, they'll be there.
Well enough sports, I think I'll talk politics. (Hell, it's my journal I can talk about whatever I want.)
Not many people know this, but they're Libertarian. I had no clue what they even stood for, until a year ago. It only makes sense of one of their mottos, "Less government = more freedom." Then on election night, our friend and guitar player for Antiseen Joe Young ran for the house of reps. For the Libertarian party. (He had only one opponent and received 11% of the vote) Any way, when on the internet looking for results, we found a quiz, and sure enough I was Libertarian. I don't consider myself it, but will support most of their views for a long, long time in any argument. Check out quizzes and questionnaires, you may be Libertarian and not know it. Maybe you the conservative Democrat are really a Republican. (By the way, the country was screwed no matter who won president and you all know it.)
April 1st will be a big day for me. It will be the day when baseball officially starts the regular season, Wrestlemania 17 will air, the second day of a 48 hour long Get Smart marathon, and XFL. Lots of good TV that day, I can't wait.
Until you're allowed to be graced in my presence again, I the King Elvis is OUT.
It's me King Elvis again. Today I'd like to point something out. As I watched a Batman marathon today, I wondered... "what the hell happened to all the good cartoons from my child hood?"
You see, Batman re-runs, along with wrestling and cool cartoons, properly educated me for my life. I'm not talking about South Park cartoons, because though it's the best cartoon going, it's not a "cartoon". Kids don't sit in their PJ's on Saturday morning watching South Park. My father's so old, he watched Huckleberry Hound, Yogi Bear, and Pixie and Dixie (with Mr. Jinx)on Saturdays, in his PJ's. I love those too, but they've been pushed to the 4 am slot for drunks and stoners to watch.
I remember running home from pre-school to watch He-man. And though it featured a man in a loin cloth, I loved nothing more than seeing him kick the shit out of Skeletor and his henchmen.THAT was a killer cartoon.
Then a year later came the king of all kid's cartoons...the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles! The perfect thing for a young boy to watch, a bunch of smart ass, sword wheeling, amphibians running around a sewer. It ruled! They always kicked ass and took names, on those fucking kick ass villains. An evil brain, a mutant fly-man, and a meatheaded boar and rino (to name a few of course). Wow, that was a kick ass cartoon. That was a shame to see go, but as that became a little to...kiddie for me, Ren & Stimpy came to be. I was just learning to appreciate fart and turd humor when this came. THAT was a funny cartoon.
Then when pre-adolensence was rolling in, so was Beavis and Butthead! And in between shitty music videos, there was some of the funniest "stupid people" humor ever. Along with fart humor, puke humor, old people humor... the list went on and on. THAT was a funny cartoon. Then what? South park is slowing from its peak. But what's next? Nothing. The world of cartoons is slowly coming to a halt.
When we visited a friends house, their daughter had Nickelodeon on 24/7, when she was awake, it was on. My laziness left me crippled in front of the tv, and I was not at all entertained. It was all cartoons with meanings at the end. Beavis and Butthead had no meaning. If it did, it was to never eat a toad, or fart in a fire. Where's the violence!?!
I don't consider Pokemon violent, at the end no one dies, or falls into a pit to no where. They just go away...weeping in sorrow, but they'll come back. How "Movie" can you get. The Power rangers...were softened up Ultraman ripoffs. For those who don't know Ultraman, it was a Japanese series made in the 70's in Japan. He looked much like the Power Rangers. (check it out if you can, no monster leaves alive!) And for pain, sparks fly! Why not blood, or blood curdling screams!
I hope you all agree with me that we need more "Ren & Stimpy's" and less "Hey Arnolds". If you don't, I don't care...I AM RIGHT!
Till next time, I the Rev. King Elvis is out!
First off, happy B-day to our friend Andy the enemaem fan. We'll someday, maybe, let you in the house again.
Today I'd like to present to you all, the piece that got me sent to the couselor's office. By the way that just proved the denial of freedom emphasis.
In 1776, a lot was going on in America. We were fighting the British, and the Declaration of Independence was signed, declaring America free from England. We were a new, young, free country. Then things became more modern and inventions started to come about. Laws were passed, rights were given, and we became powerful. Now in 2001, two hundred and twenty five years later, we are still the same old free country, or are we?
Laws are definitely affecting our lives, laws supposedly for our own benefit. Before new laws were passed, if two people got into a fight, it wasn't a big deal. It might be broken up, or the two could be thrown in jail for the night, and that's the end of the problem. Today however, if you hit hit a person, than you'd be thrown in jail for assault, and they'd probably sue you, ruining your life forever. Which sounds more free to you? Do you need the Government to solve your problems?
For years, when water would get too moldy and bacteria infested to drink, people would drink alcohol instead. They'd take medicine with rum, have wine with dinner, and they lived, it's not a festering poison. Maybe Ben Franklin was in a drunken stupor when he was flying that kite. Not just adults, everyone drank alcohol. Now though, a person must be 21 to even touch alcohol legally. Why is it that your country, can let you marry, go to war, and do all of the other adult responsibility's when you're 18, but you can't take a drink until you're 21? Do those three years really mean anything? Are you expected to serve Kool-aid at your wedding if your 19?
Now you're probably thinking, "America is based on freedom of religion" It WAS based on freedom of religion, but we haven't done a good job keeping it that way. Sure, you can be any religion you want, but you can't express your beliefs freely. Jews, Muslims, Catholics, and more doing whatever they can to make you believe their beliefs, or to prove you wrong. Even the Atheists, the non-believers, the most free of all, trying to do everything they can to avoid the other stuff. They get heckled most for being the most free.
Now onto the race topic, no matter what bleeding heart liberal says, or how hard you deny it. We don't live in a colorful rainbow of love, we live in a cesspool of hate. Most Whites hate Blacks, most blacks hate Whites, most Latinos hate both, and they hate Latinos back, and on and on. How can you be free when there's a damn lot of people wishing you'd die?
When I was real young, I thought being a free country ment everything was free. Then I found out that turning on a light, or T.V. cost money. Even flushing the toilet. If it cost me $50 bucks just to go to the bathroom, I'd rather go back to using a chamber pot.
My last annoyance, is freedom of expression. This is something nowaday Americans brag about. Although when I see five, White, 18 year old males, wearing baggy jeans and backward hats,and Enemaem bleach blonde hair cuts, all at the same time, then hear how they're different. It just makes me wonder. Then when somebody does try to express themselves in a slightly different manner, they're tormented and beaten both mentally and physically. The Columbine, and other shootings are proof of this.
Maybe you will think the next time you here "Hey, it's a free country."
It's sketchy, but proves it point. Hope you liked it, if not fuck you. It's better then anything my father ever has written.
So the Rev. KIng Elvis is now saying, over and out.
Introducing after the long, anticipated wait, I the Rev. King Elvis 3000 is here! So while my father is gone, I'm going to be the guest dairiest. So at times, I'll write about things affecting my life and current events, I might just slap on a story I've written in the past.
I could start out with many controversial things like John Rocker, (old) Eminem (just covered on this diary), or even just basic hodge podge. Let me start by saying that I'm really hyped up about the baseball season. I eat, drink, breathe, sleep (and other bodily function) baseball. So If you'd like to, share your baseball predictions with me, My favorite teams are the Phillies and A's. To the Braves and Yankee fans out there, FUCK YOU! That may be another diary.
Then their's Iron Chef, check this show out. Yeah it's a cooking show, but after a while, you're hooked on it. It has gore, cooking, wrestling like gimmicks, and (for those of you who find it funny) voice overs of the Japenese chefs.
XFL, you NFL meatheads listen up! To those who don't give it a try, try it. It is way more exciting then the NFL. And if you say "The players aren't as good." Well, then tell me why you watch College football, featuring 18 year old snots who weigh 150 lbs of bone. Most of which is their head. Or else think of what you must look like with your buddies with the fucked up knees and no throwing arm. For those that like it or have tried it, let me no what you think. (I believe the email addressis posted on this sight).
I'm running of things to introduce to you readers, so I'm going to go pop a top, watch some TV, and enjoy one of nature's best inventions, sleep.
So this is just the introduction. Just remember to expect everything.
So until later your guest diarist The Rev. KIng Elvis 3000, says eat, drink,
sleep, and (if you don't ) kill yourself, life is meaningless to you.
I've been processing albums for the Austin record show all week..it's at least a good opportunity to slap some albums on the damn stereo. Lately I haven't spent enough time listening to music alone. There's a helluva lot of "old favorite" records on my shelf that people might not suspect I'd be into unless they've visited my basement in person.
At the top of the list are the first couple P.I.L. albums from I believe 1978/79 or so. The first one is raw and fucking angry..it takes up where the Sex Pistols left off (oh..excuse me...I forgot that it's trendy to hate the Sex Pistols these days) "religion" being my fave track. The second album "metal box" is good straight through..about an hour long. I damn well wish that American punk rock had veered more in this direction back in the early 80's than towards California style generic hardcore. I met lots of the people from the early West coast H.C. bands that were so popular for a couple years. Sad to say, they were total fucking boobs without an ounce of creativity compared to P.I.L. at its peak.
A mostly "forgotten" album from the same period that was way the hell ahead of its time was Bill Nelson's "RED NOISE". It's kinda like Devo on crank for lack of a better description. Come to think of it the world seems to have forgotten the 1st Devo LP too. Another flawless album....
What about 999's "Separates" LP...the 1st Siouxie and the Banshees album "The Scream"...and how about the GERMS, ANTI-NOWHERE LEAGUE, CHROME, the WIPERS and the incredibly underated Joe Jackson (hee hee..just kidding..he was pretty boring. Although he DID record one great album "Jumpin Jive" 15 years before the big swing revival .)
The best rock 'n roll bands going today to my knowledge are groups like the Cramps and Antiseen that have been playing the same essential style of music for years.
It's easy for people younger than 30 or 35 or so to fathom that at certain key times in the last quarter century the best bands were NEW bands...that's rarely the case these days in my opinion. Of course, that could change overnight...I'm NOT stuck in the past. I know of a lot of great "young" bands..but most of them seem to be content playing music influenced by older bands that we know and THEY know they will never top.
How many bands are out there that emulate G.G. Allin..or the MC5..or the RAMONES...of course tons. Lots of them are damned good..and their hearts are in the right place and I'm not suggesting they shouldn't. But, how many of them are in the same league as their heroes?? You know damn well none of them...because they aren't originating..taking the music to the next level. These bands will be brushed aside when the next great wave of original bands comes along. Of course, that could be awhile...and I'm not saying there's anything wrong with being in the one hundred thousandth Ramones-like band. If you have fun doing that DON'T STOP.
Lots of great country albums on my racks that few will probably ever discover. I get email and letters from probably a half dozen or so strangers per week who proudly declare that they are into country music like me..they LOVE Johnny Cash and David Allen Coe. They always seem to name THOSE two in particular. I always wonder why they stopped there. Why don't you take the next step and slap on a Stonewall Jackson or Webb Pierce or Red Sovine or Kitty Wells album??
Damn, I'm getting cranky...I'm HAPPY to hear from people that are getting into country music or any other genre. THAT'S the message of todays sermon. Get into as many genres of music you can.
A few months back I found a big load of 70's R&B and soul records at a thrift store. Before I sold them I sat down and listened to bits from most of them. I wound up keeping a WAR album and one by BRICK...and GRAHAM CENTRAL STATION too. I've never been a big 70's R&B fan, but what the hell...there are great albums from every style of music. Now, it's up to you whether or not you're gonna yank off the blinders that keep you listening to the same Misfits or Social Distortion or Beatles albums over and over and over and over and over. People seem proud of this.."I'm into _________(fill in the blanks)" they chortle as they make a tape for their car from their little collection of the 30 albums that fit into their narrow chosen fan identity. For that matter, even though I've already cited my pals Antiseen and the Cramps as the best R&R bands going today..I'll even go one step further and say you're missing out if you listen to THEIR stuff exclusively over and over and over and over without looking into something else like Sun Ra or Rose Tattoo or the Pink Fairies or Slade or Screaming Jay Hawkins or King Diamond or the Sonics or the Last Poets or Hawkwind or the Shaggs or Jimmy Cliff or Junior Samples or Dick Dale, etc, etc.
"Diversity" is an insulting, suckass idea unless you're applying it to your music collection. Fucking get smart and realize how silly it is to be limiting your enjoyment of music to a tiny sub-genre.
Enough preaching...I'm gonna go take a big beefy dump.
Let the angry Email begin!
All the talk show hosts are bad mouthing the bogus weather reports that've been striking fear in the hearts of all the bread and milk hording masses. They interupted programming in one instance to pitch the "storm of the century" update on that evenings news show. Thereafter all we heard about on TV news broadcasts was about the big storm that would begin Sunday at 3:00 pm.
Sunday night, the weather channel and the news shows promised that the storm simply hadn't hit yet..but that we'd be getting 6-12" of snow at LEAST..plus near hurricane force winds.
Here it is..Tuesday 5:30 am...maybe a total of 1/2 an inch of snow over the weekend..NO WINDS...NO STORM.
Well, as far as I'm concerned NO SURPRISE either. Even more pitiful than the people that rushed out to the stores to buy weeks of supplies in the face of a storm that would be gone by Wednesday are the losers that try to justify the lies of the media.
Not even the talk show hosts ever point out the nightly hoaxes TV news shows pull..yunno, the "teaser" footage they deliberately edit into the very end of the show to maintain viewer attention.
Wait!! I just heard an updated rationalization on the news..we are now told that the storm DID INDEED produce a foot of snow as promised....in Syracuse and Binghampton New York. This line was delivered straight without a word about how many millions of lives were disrupted by the last 3 days of scare tactics.
One more reason not to give a damn about this rotten species...
I'm planning on leaving for the South in exactly a week. I hope they can postpone the next ploy to boost ratings until I'm safely across the Mason-Dizon line.
While I'm gone readers of this journal will be treated to the warped teenage rampage of ELVIS 3000. He's 16..and as Andy will soon learn he hates rap even more than I do. He's a writing student at the high school "Fame" was based on..where he toys with the minds of fellow students. He's even been "counseled" by administrators as a possible Columbine-style whacko thanks to a paper he wrote about our actual lack of freedom in America. His role models growing up weren't exactly lame scout masters or clergymen. Nope..he grew up in the midst of genius..as a personal friend of notables ranging from Jim Goad to Jello Biafra.
Paul E. Dangerously debuted on RAW tonight..filling in for the departed Jerry Lawler. He'll do just fine...I'm sorry to see the King go, but he's gotta stand by his woman I guess. It's not like he doesn't have enough talents to fall back on having served as a promoter/artist/political aspirant over the years.
William Regal delivers the best lines and facial expressions (not counting Vince himself) almost every week lately. I'm glad to see they're adding a bit of depth to his charachter. Chris Jericho's matches have been great..although his charachter seems to be stuck in nuetral. Ditto for Kane.
The saddest thing about ECW going under is the fact that loyal guys like Tommy Dreamer are left hanging. Most of 'em have to wish that they had gone to work for one of the "big" two long ago...especially TD himself I assume. Oh well..at least Sandman will have more time to drink beer and smoke cigarettes.
No whiskey shots tonight... I had a few beers but nothing too major.
LAST night I drank so many shots of Ezra Brooks I was dizzy for a couple hours after getting up. Elvis and I were playing the brand new "triple play" play station baseball game. We've played earlier versions of the game for years. A couple weeks ago we completed a 162 game season with my fave boyhood team the St. Louis Cardinals. Of course all the players from the 1967 roster were represented including my favorites Orlando Cepeda and Bob Gibson.
Since we never leave the house and have been socially ostracized we need to create fantasy worlds as a substitute to human contact.
Hey..isn't Liza from HAMMERLOCK about ready to give birth?? I've been neglecting to give them a call out there in S.F....hope they haven't been getting hit by too many rolling goddamned blackouts. I bet Travis is just itching to blast a few of the environmentalist kooks responsible for preventing California from erecting a few much needed nuclear reactors. I use to sympathize with them a bit..but not anymore. If I were given a button to push to blow up the whole damn planet..I probably would in a flash..with a smile on my face. Just think..no more bosses..crabby "M.a.d.d." Mothers or Queen Latifah. And, none of us will EVER have to endure "uptown girl" by Billy Joel again...or "sometimes when we touch" by Dan Hill. Of course, no more ice cold beer, warm cozy beds or all night wrestling video tape marathons either....shit. I'm just a big pussy after all....
oh hell..I'm just running around in circles all week long. I'm SO damn busy it's hideous. There's no damn doubt about it..I work WAY THE HELL more hours now than when I reported to a job. I whipped the ebay thrift-store search a few days ago by loading up on $1 albums at a record store the other day. I have way the hell more stuff than I can list before leaving for my Southern trip.
Besides leaving Ebay in an understandable state that Marla and Elvis can babysit while I'm gone I also have to find time to practice guitar a bit (for the Hattiesburg show with Jeff Clayton) prepare a couple hundred albums for the record show in Austin, make up about 20 video tapes, sort the CD's and 45's from our label and catalog so that I bring the right number of about 70 or 80 titles and find time to fine tune the spoken word/reading stuff I'm gonna do at what has become 6 appearances.
Besides all that..I'm supposed to be finishing off a 2nd book!!
I'm happy as hell to meet all my new relatives one by one via email...but it takes some thought and "reflection" (I HATE that word)...
Oh yeah..I gotta make cheap motel reservations close to a couple of the venues..I can't be driving around strange Southern towns pie-eyed fucking drunk.
I'll somehow get it all down of course..it'll be good to see so many familiar faces after the long winter of isolation. When I first became my own boss a couple years ago I became a housebound hermit by choice...a recluse.
I've had an attitude change gradually over the last few months; I hardly ever see or talk to people besides Marla and Elvis..but not really by choice anymore. I think our telling everyone around here that we were moving (To California..it fell through of course) killed us off socially.
It's taken 7 years living in Philly for us to go full circle from drinking out with friends 6 nights a week to a position where we get more wrong number and solicitor calls than we do from friends. BOO HOO!! It's time to find some new drinking buddies I guess (Interested readers reply to my email address).
Anyway, it'll be great to see Tod Goss, Jeff, Dana and the girls in Rock Hill, the BEFORE I HANG folks in Hattiesburg, Gerry and his boys from the Bulemics in Austin..not to mention about 20 other Texans whose names I forget..but who I enjoy the hell out of seeing every time. I've only met up with the Spo-its a couple times..but it'll be fun watching them blow up a couple bars while I peddle merch.
DAMN! I wish I had bought that General Sherman shirt in Gettysburg..I'd look great wearing that on stage in Savanah Georgia!
I'll come home looking forward to sitting in this quiet little familiar hole of a room...with Art Bell my only company.
I got a detailed email from a "new" Aunt yesterday...and later on an email from my blood Father. I like 'em all so far... I'm told a half Sister may call later tonight. It seems that my blood Mother and I lived in the same city's for many years. We lived in Los Angeles and Portland at the same time for instance. I had an Aunt living in Aloha Oregon as I grew up..a mere couple miles away from my former hometown of Beaverton. I'm not going to utter any of their names in this diary publicly until I know 'em better..but suffice it to say that my natural Mother and adopted mother's names are phoenetically (sp?) alike. They have the same middle name and very similar first and last.
My pal Andy Persponko had the nerve to email me back defending Enema-M from my earlier diary rant!! He's the same guy we dedicated "Drink around the clock" to. Of course, from a logical standpoint there is no such thing as "good" or "bad" music. It's ALL a matter of personal taste. I believe Andy's impressed with "the worlds greatest rapper's" irreverant and antisocial stance towards family members.
There's NOTHING original about a recording artist hating/wanting to kill/wanting to have sex with, etc, etc various family members. HUNDREDS of metal bands alone have covered EVERY ANGLE of anti-family attitude. I saw King Diamond "murder" his Granny on stage ten years ago. He had a little house on stage that the stunt person stayed in during his set. During the set he menaced her..and eventually killed her.
Furthermore Andy..if enema-m was so fresh and original he'd find an original way to express himself rather than speak, look , and act (RIGHT DOWN TO THE PRETENTIOUS HAND SIGNAL B.S.!!) like every other wigger recording artist out there uses.
It's ALL A GODDAMNED fashionable schtick...there's not a damn thing I could learn from the likes of him. FURTHERMORE as I ranted before..he mumbles like a boob. Explain to us the appeal of his voice Andy?? Is that your idea of a great voice??
Well, I love Andy...I'm only giving him a hard time here cause he can take it.
Hey, how many times have you told somebody you hated a band like Led Zeppelin...and they responded with the old line "yeah..but have you heard "(fill in the blanks with an obscure song title by that band)" from their 5th album..?"
The point is, there's only so many hours available in life to listen to all the great stuff. I haven't been impressed by the dozen or so Led Zeppelin songs I've heard...why would I spend precious time combing their catalog for a song I liked??
I agree with a guy that emailed me a year or so after my "Rap" column was printed in HITLIST #1..there undoubtedly IS some damn fine obscure rap out there somewhere...I just don't have the time to look for it. There's too much stuff I already know I'll like that I want to track down musically. If YOU have the time and the inclination..more power to ya'...
Hot damn tamale! What a big day...maybe a bit TOO big. My heads swimming from a jam packed day of excitement.
First off, I rolled out of the sack at about 10:00 a.m. to get ready for my interview with Merle Haggard. About 5 minutes after I sat at the computer to prepare my question list. Marla dropped the envelope from the State of Oregon containing my pre-adoption birth certificate in my lap.
I've never had more than sketchy info about my natural parents..Oregon recently opened up their vaults for the first time ever so that adoptees like me could look up their blood relations.
My birth Mothers name was on the birth certificate...damn. A MIND BLOWING experience in itself. We worked on the net for 3 hours trying to stitch together genealogy info about her family. The more we dug the more amazed we were.
My birth Mother's family can be traced on the net back to 1760; they arrived in Oregon after a trip along the Oregon trail in 1852. They were bona-fide PIONEERS..I wouldn't have cared if they rolled in from Arkansas in the 1930's of course..but it's a bonus to know that the blood of two fisted he-men pumps through my veins.
After a while, we had to drop our research and get ready for the interview. We drove over to Larry & Leslies where they had the recording set up ready. I was nervous as hell, but I managed to get past it; Merle is as wise in the ways of understanding the "contemporary" country music biz...he didn't pull any punches. I think people will enjoy what he had to say. Needless to say, it was an honor for me to talk to a guy like Merle..I've spent a hundred hours crying in my beer to his records.
We got home...and discovered the last couple missing links to my adoption puzzle. We had a phone number for my birth Mothers Brother..and with a little cajoling Marla agreed to call him up (I've always thought it would be too much of a strange shock to break the news myself if I ever found out their names).
My luck usually runs sour at times like this...
In this case though we ran into the nicest damn people you're ever going to meet. The next few hours were spent in emails and phone calls going back and forth across country. After Uncle and his wife became convinced this wasn't a hoax they placed calls to alert one relative after another...INCLUDING my natural Father..who's name isn't on the birth certificate. My birth had been a deep dark secret as I expected. All the people concerned quickly got used to the fact that I exist real quick.
I've learned the following facts:
Unfortunately, my birth Mother is in a resthome suffering from alzheimers..it's pointless to try to contact her.
On the positive side, in all including both families I have 2 half Brothers and 3 half Sisters...Uncles, Aunts, Cousins and a couple Grandparents or so.
The topper was talking to my natural FATHER who lives these days in ALABAMA!! Amazingly, the talk went very well. I never got my hopes up that if I ever tracked him down he'd even acknowledge me....but it all worked out.
What do you say when you meet your old man over the telephone for the first time??
I yakked with his step Father and my helpful Uncle on my Mothers side (who called him up on the phone to break the news!) before I called him up to make sure he wasn't going to be freaked out. I hope to meet him on the way home from Texas in March. He's a really great guy who has led an action packed life to say the least. I've always wondered where my high I.Q. and child prodigy chess and math skills came from...well, the ol' man's been working in some heavy, brainy lines of work over the years..and he says my birth Mother was damn smart too.
A half Sister has expressed interest in talking to me over the phone this weekend...she's four years younger.
Of course the obvious question is what these people are gonna think of me. All I can do is be myself...even if they do get weirded out. Of course I'm not going to insult them by playing up hard to accept details about my life until they know I'm basically OK. Then they'll get the hard to accept stuff...I'm still not out of the ether...my heads swimming..I'm so upbeat about this that I feel almost silly...I gotta go calm down.
My take on the Grammy's??
Once again the masses get what they deserve. I once saw enema-m for about one minute on TV..Raw had just ended, and I was a little bit slow getting out of my throne to change the channel away from "farmclub.com"
(Question#1..why is a TV show named after a "dot com" site? I don't get it..is that supposed to be clever?)
Anyway, I saw this little emaciated white guy who looks like one of the little kids on our street begin to rap/mumble. My immediate thought was, DAMN! this is a low budget show..they can't attract a REAL rapper even..they have to have this squirrel with bad enunciation do his rapper impression. He reminded me of a kid aping a popstar in front of a mirror...
Imagine my fucking surprise when Elvis told me that he had the #1 album in the land!!
Look, wasn't rap bad enough over the last 20 years..now you can have the top LP in the land by mumbling in a street corner quality wigger dialect??
And I thought Limp Bizkit was the bottom of the barrel!
N-sync and the backend boyz are quite talented in comparison..and Marilyn Manson seems like a mega-talented genius you might want to sit down and split a jug with next to the new favorite rapper of the masses..
I'm once again INCREDIBLY glad my kid hates rap, hip hop, programmed drum dance horseshit, boy groups, jock-country, etc. If I had to listen to that crap at home I'd take either my own life or his..or both.
Just like every other musical fad over the last 50 years whiteboy-rap will run its course. Hippie music sucked..but the masses dropped it after only a few years..
The first wave of disco sucked..the masses ate it up for awhile..and then dropped it almost overnight.
The wave of Nirvana inspired corporate horseshit sucked...but alternative has been DEAD for years in many US markets... it'll soon be forgotten..until it's inevitable "revival" 10 or 15 years down the road.
Country/Pop-diva horseshit is incredibly boring...and it's almost as big as enema-M...it'll die out..along with anything else popular.
The only music that endures for long is oldies radio which proceeds at a glaciers pace. When I was a teen they played 50's rock and roll ending in stuff recorded about 1963. Now oldies stations have dropped 50's R&R songs and are either programming 80% Motown in black dominated markets (like here in Philly) or have gravitated to playing the same 30 or 40 mid 60's to mid 70's tunes over and over year in, year out.
As mainstream and predictable as oldies radio has become, it's the only format that'll survive the next ten years....though they'll soon begin dropping '60's songs like "California dreaming" and "Abraham, Martin & John" and "Bus stop" in favor of more recent oldies like "Uptown girl" "beat it" and "walkin' on sunshine".
(Question #2...am I crazy??...I'd prefer ALL of those horrid horseshit songs I've hated for years to popular rap if forced to choose. Question# 2 1/2..is the word "Diva" the most overused in the English language on television today?)
Well folks, take comfort in the fact that the LONGER IT TAKES for the masses to work a music fad out of its system THE LONGER IT"LL TAKE for another to come around.
Goddamn though, I never realized how lucky I was to grow up when Foghat, BTO and Golden Earing ruled the airwaves.
When I receive demo tapes to review for CARBON14 from generic sounding guitar oriented bands instead of tossing the tapes in the trash I wanna HUG the people responsible for it!!
(Question #3..why is it that wiggers look like such wimps?? 80's hair-glam poofsters looked rough and tough by comparison..even 70's disco geeks with sweaty mustaches and part-in-the-middle earlobe length hairdo's looked more macho. I saw a wigger being interviewed on Queen Latifah's show..they referred to him as a dangerous gangster..I COULDN"T BELIEVE IT!! he was a little scrawny runt wearing a headband to hold back his hair ..although he was bald headed...and his mustache was whispy. I imagined if he got in a fight he'd be too busy holding his droopy pants up to defend himself. "Boyband" singers look tough by comparison..I don't get it)
enough...this is supposed to be a big day...I'm still waiting for my birth certificate to show up..it should have arrived yesterday. If it shows up this'll likely turn out to be one of the top few days of my mostly disappointing life.
Hell, it's already a bad year for deaths.
I've always been neutral on Nascar..I've never taken the time to get into it..just like hockey, crack smoking or sex with prostitutes. There's alot of pleasures out there I'm probably missing out on.
I trust the judgement of my friends that followed Dale Earnhardt for years enough to know he was a helluva guy and an inspiration. I got the word from C.J. who came over for a few beers. We knocked back a couple shots of "Bookers" and sat there shaking our heads for awhile knowing how hard some friends were probably taking the news.
Later, I heard about the passing of Eddie Matthews..baseball legend who's death is being edged out of the limelight. Mr. Matthews and his longterm team mate Hank Aaron hit more homeruns combined than any 2 team mates in history..yep, even more than Ruth & Gherig. He wound up whacking 512..which is phenomenal..in the top 15 all time.
What the hell Dale..Eddie..a man could get shitfaced knocking back salutory shots to acknowledge the likes of you guys passing on the same day.
Don't get the idea that I'm a soft touch for giving every celeb that dies a big send off. I busted a gut laughing when the royal spoiled-bitch Diana kicked the bucket. I hate the royal family so much I'm gritting my teeth at my anger over how long those worthless leeches live..especially that old fool the "Queen Mother" who's over 100 years old. I'll watusi in a moo moo in the middle of Broad street with a bottle balanced on my nose to celebrate when she goes...
We were visiting Cosmo at his tattoo shop when we got the word about that sack of hippie shit Jerry Garcia...my good mood turned sour when I realized that his death would doubtlessly result in his being made out to be a heroic martyr..a genius...instead of a dead druggie.
It was still fresh in my mind all the hub bub over Kurt Ka-bang...leader of perhaps the most overhyped band of the last century. His music was basic formulaic fast/slow/fast/slow drivel....he was a frigging CRYBABY millionaire junkie. Most of us have 100 times more reason to complain than that spoiled little shit! But, due to the superb timing of his death he bolted from the planet before the press and the masses got wise to him. I mean, he was fucking dumb enough to marry Courtney Love! That shows how smart he was....oh boo boo hoo!!! Let's cry for the poor multi-millionaire!!
The word is starting to get out about one of last years most lamented casualties..Joe Dimaggio. I've read more than one account that he slapped his wife Marilyn Monroe around..and remember the idiotic "wrong door" raid he led against her in the middle of the night with a bunch of strongarm goons? Yunno what though? No matter how he acted off of the playing field it doesn't tarnish his athletic accomplishments.
Look, nobody's perfect. I've pulled a lot of idiotic stunts of my own over the years that would look bad if I were important enough to rate press scrutiny. I've smashed my share of furniture during arguments..I've punched holes in walls and even one in my Mothers front door. I fly off the handle into childish temper tantrums all the time. Good thing I'm not famous..I'd be raked over the coals.
There's nothing more pathetic in my opinion than denying the human weaknesses of somebody after their death..whether they be famous or not.
My Mom is full of shit for "forgetting" that my old man attacked her wardrobe with scissors one night...or that he used to whip our asses with a waffle iron chord. I still loved and miss the guy even though he was an incredible tyrant at times; yet I was astonished to learn that almost 20 years after his death she suddenly denies all this and more.
Perhaps nobody has been analyzed in depth the way that King Elvis has. His case serves as an example for what I'm trying to say. A few years after his death a hatchet job written by a professional celeb bashing biographer named Goldman was published. In one shocking passage Elvis was condemned for being a "voyeur..and lifelong masturbator". Now, I ask..how many of you fella's could be tarred by that brush? hhmm??? In contrast the best biographical accounts of his life have been written by Peter Guralnick who never denied the mostly FACTUAL basis of Goldman's shocking revelations. He KEPT THEM IN PERSPECTIVE though. He DIDN'T go out of his way to sensationalize Mr. Presleys faults to sell books. He strove to keep the man's faults and attributes fairly balanced.
Damn..we're a bad, bad, bad, bad species..and fucking DUMB too. Think of how many millions of the King's fans there are out there who won't even accept his most basic faults though.
Fuck..I'm not sure where this is headed...I'm satisfied that I can smell a snow job when the press laments the passing of "faultless" idols like "lady DI" or Kurt Ka-bang. For some reason they just choose to collectively ignore the human weaknesses of so many celeb's whereas they go out of their way to make others look like monsters. You never hear about Jim Morrison's huge beer belly at the time of his death..but Elvis's weight was a scandal...and still a source of running jokes.
** ** ** ** **
Shit, my sleep schedule is fucked up but good. Yesterday, I woke up at 1:00 pm after 4 hours sleep. I napped for 20 minutes a couple times...and slept from 1:30 am to 3:30 am. Then, I couldn't get back to sleep..so I drank beer until 9:30 am. I awoke at !:00 pm again...and here I am at 5:30 am after only a couple brief catnaps during the day.
No telling when I'll get to sleep this morning. Art Bell being back on the radio will possibly eventually be a stabilizing influence. I gotta straighten out before I leave for Texas in March. I've got a load of "spoken word" appearances and "book readings" lined up.. I'll have to sleep and drive fairly normal hours..sometimes staying at peoples homes.
The problem must be that I'm not drinking enough...thankfully that's a "problem" I can do something about by marching down to the refrigerator right now.
Oh fuck..Saturday morning. I can't fucking sleep even though it's only 8:30 a.m...my damn back hurts...and I just can't friggin' s'eep with all those flea markets going on out there..even if they're still mostly inhabited by half frozen lunatics selling dented boxes of Cheerios and cans of out dated yams. I'm gonna pack some ebay stuff to ship out to Canadian and European customers and then consider whether I want to hit a nice indoor thriftstore or two.
I was able to really crank out a few pages on the new damn book a couple nights ago. I didn't even fill like writing..but once I got started it just started spewing out. Since I'm writing about my adolescent and teen years the feelings of nostalgia that hit me are overwhelming. I usually don't connect with that phase of my life at all..since I really didn't have total control over things back then I tend to trace my memories back to when the book ends with me finally becoming an approximation of me. Even after I became an adult I still didn't really become "me" (yeah, I know this is getting spacey) until I gave up on mankind, the American dream, the notion of benevolent bosses, my inlaws, etc. which all happened about the time in 1979 or so when we quit our careers and started bashing on musical instruments.
Yeah..I'll take credit for things from then on..but anything predating that..it really wasn't "ME". I mostly like the screwed up kid that I'm writing about..he was often brave in the face of wave after wave of confusion and hatred coming from all directions...teachers, parents, other kids, etc. Of course if that kid were really "ME" he would've lashed out back at them sooner...it took the screwed up bastard a few years to really learn how to say FUCK YOU to the whole damned bunch of them. Once he did, all was simple from then on.
Unlike a lotta sobfest books people write about their bad childhoods I'm the first to say though that the kid had it coming to an extent..he brought a lot of it upon himself. He WAS a total fucking geek at times..
I saw a few snowflakes fluttering..so I bolted out the door in order to get to the post office to PICK UP mail before there is a panic..yunno..Philly is just like anywhere else..any faint trace of snow and people horder a months worth of bread and milk. I'll need to go to the OTHER post office where I ship stuff from soon.
Why do I need to go to 2 post offices?? Why can't I simply do my business all at once without driving all over hell and back?? The p.o. I pick up at is IMPOSSIBLE to ship from...it's located in the heart of Italian-ignoroid South Philly. There's a long line of very, very dumb customers speaking a variety of languages fencing verbally with a surly crew of union postal workers..mostly screechy black gal's. I've had it out with most of 'em at least once over their rudeness. You can wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wiat and wiat and WATE AND WATE while low IQ immigrants ask questions like one I heard today:
"I am told I can ask here abouta the tax refund"...it took the clerk 5 minutes to explain to the dumbass that the post office has NOTHING to do with the fucking IRS. Meanwhile the line grew longer and longer..
One time I saw a couple of guys..I think they were Arab..toting in a plastic tub like you buy at Kmart..it was so heavy it took two of them to carry it. They stuck a couple flimsy pieces of tape and an address on it and tried to mail it! It took 3 different postal employees and 15 minutes to explain to them why it wouldn't work!
The post office I ship at is a newer facility in a district where there are less old people and immigrants. I'd love to be able to pickup mail there too..but you lose a certain amount of mail order business everytime you change your address. Fuck..
Anyway, at the post office I got a great package from Steve and Greg (Wipers) down in Arizona.."History of Portland punk pt. #1"..a CD.
Several singles and an album are included that collectors barter for $100 a pop or so....I'm fucking thrilled that Greg is the one bringing it to the "people"..instead of certain greedy fucks (who will remain nameless here) that've been leeching off of guys like Greg for years. There are actually some great cuts on the disc..I'm gonna see if we can buy a bunch.
Will this be the night C.J. Price comes over for a yakk? I'd better empty the Yuengling and Bud out of the frig and fill it with the $8 per case stuff he likes!
Another weekend of XFL action beckons..I've gotta write a heap of pages too..I'm beginning to smell the scent of a completed damn book..which makes it easier to finish it off. I've written about up to the time I was 15...and from 16 on is fairly well covered..I just have to fill in the gap which includes my trip to Europe which was the beginning of my adult alcoholic life...yes Virginia, drinking DID "save my life"..I've been looking forward to writing in depth about it...as opposed to some of the difficult periods that are no fun to play over and over in my mind.
I'm sitting here at 5:22 am sucking down Bud's..waiting to take Elvis to school at 7:00am. It's been a real headscratcher whether or not to get too little sleep and wake up groggy and hungover (like I did this morning) or take the switch to coffee at 6:00 am route. Obviously it's too late now to bother to sleep. I found enough stuff at the thrift stores today to post tonight to ebay..so what the fuck..I don't need to hit thrift stores again today. I'll plan on sleeping after a semi-drunken drive to Elvis's school. Then, I'll wake up in time to pick him up and start another day of being my own boss.
I've been working on thenew book for a few hours. I got bogged down in the nostalgia of it all and got out an old high school year book. I haven't seen more than a few of them since I graduated..but still I'm one of those people that wonders what the hell happened to some of them. NOT because I care about them..I'm just curious.
It's amazing how you can look at the youthful faces and see them already showing the first signs of turning ugly at the age of 17...big heads..slightly crossed eyes..chunky faces. They all smile real pretty for the camera for their yearbook photo..but they can't fool me..I know how fucking ugly most of them are today. I also know damn well to my eternal amusement a lot of 'em who acted high and mighty and expected great things wound up pumping gas, pulling slurpies or sucking cock for a living long ago.
I ran altavista searches for a bunch of 'em I knew and hated and barely found any sign that most of them are alive in this computer age. It was pathetic...even in my obscurity I'm at least all over the net hit-wise.
I've been trying to locate my former best friend, room mate, best man at the wedding for a while now. If I could yakk over old times with him I'm sure he'd provide some data that could trigger my memory about a few things for the book. Where are you Jim??
I've located a former female friend who along with her husband was at our wedding. They're evidently into Hotrod drag racing & parts swap meets...which sounds promising. I'm torn whether to get in touch with them...It stands to reason she'd remember angles on certain things that would really help..but it's been over 20 fucking years. Should I just blindly mail them a jobjumper...and see if they're offended by that? if they are, well...I'm only out a book. If they like it and aren't offended at the monster I have become it could lead to some help..
It's been a week since I ordered my pre-adoption birth certificate...any day now I'll find out who the hell I am. Once a ouija board spirit told us that Jon Voight was my Father. HHmmm. I'd prefer Dan Blocker...
What the fuck...I've heard the song "philadelphia freedom" everywhere I've turned today. I heard it in the car...at a thrift store..and just now as bumper music for Art Bell. PLEASE Art...
I finished a book earlier about New York's copycat "Zodiac killer". He was a real light weight dummy compared to the REAL Zodiac who was very cool. Now I'm reading two more books..one about Vietnamese gangs and the other an old favorite.."Babbit" by the great Sinclair Lewis. On the horizon is the autobiography of Goose Gossage and a book about the "Yosemite" murders.
Shit...it's 6:00 am. I'm suppose to switch to coffee now. I just chugged off another bud. It tastes SO DAMN GOOD this time of morning when I know all my ex-co-workers are just getting up readying themselves for another day at the plow.
Oh shit...Art Bell is gone..and here comes Imus. Yeecch!! I hear a lot of friends bellyache about Stern being in a rut..but he's better on his worst day than Imus at his best. I can't pick up the station Stern is on in this room..so..over and out.
Sunday night finds me with a sore ass from watching "XFL" games all day. I must admit Vince has really pulled off something great..I've hated football for years..but now I find myself totally hooked again.
Whem Marla and I first got married a hell of a long time ago she was already a football fan...or should I say a Raiders fan. We followed 'em for many years up until a few years ago. I gradually became totally turned off by the growing religiosity (is that a word..urp??) of the game. Yeah, yeah..I know that most athletes are force fed Jesus in the lockeroom..and that out of respect for bible banging coaches and team-mates a lot of them who don't give a shit go along with all the prayer hoopla so as to maintain peace...
Besides..athletes are a superstitious lot..which makes them easy pray for christian athlete goon-squads...not to mention the fact that most football players are probably even dumber than most other idiot humans.
You have to be pretty fucking dumb to believe that even if there WAS a goddamn creator that he'd give preferential treatment to your team instead of the opposing team who undoubtedly have their own share of christians.
And don't give me that line about "we're not praying to win..we're just glorifying god by asking for strength"...the same assholes that use that bullshit line are cranking filthy-language racist rap on their boomboxes in the lockeroom to get psyched up..
How are you "glorifying god" by participating in a profession that does as much to encourage people to avoid Sunday church services as any other?
The bible instructs christians to fucking keep the goddamned sabbath holy...NFL games are fucking saturated with beer commercials..does god approve of beer? I suppose if you have the nursury-school level intellect of the average football player you're too fucking dumb to read the bible for yourself.
Damn..I'd make a helluva preacher, huh?
Don't worry..I haven't weakened..I still wipe my ass with bible pages on occasion. Still, I have a bit of respect for people who follow the teachings of their religion quietly, humbly and faithfully more or less. Anyway, I saw one too many endzone prayer meetings over my years of watching the NFL. The first couple weeks of the XFL I've seen a bit of prayer huddle footage..but it definetly takes a back seat to the TONS of footage of scantilly clad cheerleaders we are treated to!
One of Vince McMahon's premises for starting the league is that football has become a millionaires game (you can say the same about the NBA and to a lesser extent major league baseball) he's slashed salaries and is promising that ticket prices will be so affordable that Son's will be able to take their Father's to games and pay for the tickets.
I can't identify for 30 seconds with the millionaire jock assholes in the NFL. I sure as hell can identify with the XFL guys...a lot of whom drive cars crappier than mine I'm sure.
OK..OK....I know that Vince is fully capable of disenfranchised ex-NFL fans like me in and then jacking up the ticket prices..or some such scheme...but for now I'm enjoying the action. Hell..when NFL teams start to brawl the officials and blowhard announcers get "concerned"..in the XFL the commentators like Governor Jesse Ventura and Brian Bosworth cheerlead for late hits and fights!!
I'm expecting in the mail from Oregon a copy of my "pre-adoption" birth certificate within the next few days. Of course who the fuck knows whether my blood relatives will turn out to be a buncha squares that can't handle my weirdness..I'm laying even money they'll be horrified upon sight when they see me!
I know very little about them...but my aging Mother "slipped" and revealed to me a secret that she and my deceased old man knew evidently for many years..that the teenagers who gave me up for adoption married afterwards.
Even when I wrote "Jobjumper" I was under the impression that couldn't be the case...I mean that's not very likely, is it? It all means of course that I possibly have full Brothers and Sisters out there somewhere. I had always figured only on a few halfies..
My Sister learned that her natural birth Mother's name is "Osborne"...
Her married name as of a few years ago is OSBORNE!! WOW!!
I kid you not...well, I'm drinking bourbon and water..and cans of Coors and Carling black label beer. I'm gonna sign off and work on the next book for awhile.
I don't know why, but for as long as I can remember when the phone rings at about 4:00 a.m. I automatically wonder (hell I say it out loud) "who just died?"
When I was growing up a phone call at 4:00 am to our house ALWAYS meant somebody had kicked the bucket and a relative was calling to deliver the bad news. We got a call that my grandma died at about 5:30 one morning when I was nine years old. We were woken up similarly when my Uncle Otto died..and my Uncle Laverne.
Damn..I hope when I go that they wait until a decent hour to let people know.
Anyway, we got one of those calls a couple nights ago from my Sister. Marla and I heard the phone ring and heard a voice in the answering machine, but of course I'll be damned if as a full grown adult ruling my own house I'm gonna get out of bed and blow a night of sleep to see who died...it can wait until the morning. So, we rolled over and went back to sleep. Still, I asked out loud laying there in bed.."I wonder who died?"
We found out the next day...it was my Uncle Harold. He died at the age 82..of a long suffering bout with cancer.
Harold was my last Uncle on earth. We weren't really "close" due to the fact that I never, ever really communicate with my Mothers relatives. They're all fundamentalist Christians who don't approve of what I do. Lots of ministers, Sunday school teachers and church organists in the family...I'm the black sheep.
I did have a chance to visit with Harold a few years ago when he and my Aunt Selma and my Uncle Bud and his wife Dorothy all dropped in while we were visiting my Mother in Eugene Oregon.
I somehow got Harold and Bud started spinning yarns about world war II. It was a lot of fun to hear them talk about bloody battles they had participated in, drunken shore leave exploits..hell..I could listen to guys from that generation talk for hours.
My old man was cut of the same cloth...he was the SAME way. On the rare occasions you could get him to talk about the war or old times he was fun as hell to listen to.
Too bad when they were raising families Dad and Uncle Bud and Uncle Harold were too busy being authoritarian Fathers to tell cool stories. They all brought problems home from work with them and worked them out of their systems by beating the hell out of me and my cousins. They were too busy bullying me and my cousins into boring yard work, boring church activities and unwanted haircuts to ever let their hair down enough to let us get to see their more interesting sides.
I know it sounds cliche to say this..but it's true none the less so here goes. The guys from my Dad's generation like Harold and Bud were REAL FUCKING MEN..compared to the pussies I see from every generation since. They endured the great depression and a huge fucking war in which everybody..I mean EVERYBODY lost a lot of people they knew. I lost my Uncle Obert many years before I was even born on Normandy beach..he was blown to fucking smithereens..not even a torn up body left to ship home.
When these guys got home from the war they got together with their women and had a fucking blast...smoking like chimneys..guzzling booze and dancing. And when they danced it wasn't to phony bullshit from a heartless, senseless goddamned computer...they had LIVE music played by huge gaudy fucking orchestras.
They felt so fucking lucky just to BE ALIVE and have money for food...that they really had a blast. If there's one thing wrong in general with people 30 and under these days it's that they have no memory of trouble or war or hunger to put their tiny little everyday problems in perspective..they're a fucking spoiled rotten bunch. They dress up like hippies from the 60's or swing era types from the 40's...and it's just one big fucking game. The bottom of the barrel are the introspective "alternative" types that whine and cry about their pathetic lives..or the "evils" of society. What a joke...the worst trouble 99% of these crybabies have ever experienced is when their super-nintendo was on the frizt..or when they got dumped by an equally spoiled woman.
Maybe what our country needs is a good war....
Well, let's not get carried away. After all, I don't want my kid to get drafted..see? I'm a pussy too...
I'm the first to admit I couldn't make it in the military. I'm a big history buff and fan of world war II and the Civil war but I'm afraid I'd crack if forced to shit and eat with a hundred strangers.
Well, Harold....this is goodbye. Even though we didn't see much of one another over the last 20 years or so..and even though you might have shook your head over the years many times at my clothes or hairdo or agnostic ways..I appreciated more about you and learned more from you than you ever suspected.
This shot of topnotch "Bookers" true-barrel bourbon is to you Harold...I only wish we could have knocked a few back together.
Late Thursday night...early Friday morning. I've been slaving away at ebay for many hours. My shoulder hasn't been hurting too bad. I could barely sleep last night though. I woke up about 6:00 am screaming in agony. I had missed several doses of medicine awaiting my prescription refill. With a new jug of liquid Ibuprofen (sp?) I'm feeling a helluva lot better. I've been in pain for about a year now (from bursitis)..eventually I know I need to work up the guts to go back to the doctor to either get another shot or something.
Incidentally he's also the Cosmic commander of wrestlings physician. When I told the doc I knew Howard he said "Oh yeah..great guy!"..I smoothly replied "Oh, my mistake..must be a different Howard Saunders"...hee hee hee. Just kidding Howie.
Heard earlier this evening that Merle Haggard has been sent a copy of CARBON14 to check out..Larry says he needs to check out each person he grants an interview. I'M the prospective interviewer in this case..what the fuck will I ask him?? "who are your influences".."what's your favorite color" "who's your favorite Beatle?"..
I'm listening to a guest replacement on what used to be Art Bell's show; damn good thing ol' Art is coming back soon..none of these other guys who have attempted to replace him are nearly as good. The guy from Seattle is a vegetarian Christian....a BAD combination.
Of course several good friends of mine are either vegetarian OR christian..I have no problem with either. I sure as hell don't give a damn what somebody else eats...and it's damn near impossible to convincingly argue that anybody who prays to the god who created crib-death is any less rational than people who devote their lives to worshiping their Misfits memorabilia collection.
We all fool ourselves into "believing" in one form of crap or another...whether it be Islam, Amway, the fucking "Simpsons" or the "worlds greatest rapper" Enema-m.
Having defended Christianity, I feel compelled to list some favorite sacrilegious songs that come to mind..in no particular order "Jesus entering from the rear" "My god can beat up your god" "plastic Jesus"..and "religion pts #1 & #2" by P.I.L. Well, religion is too big a farce to tackle tonight. I've still got to pack stuff to ship tomorrow and go through a dozen boxes looking for books to sell.
Knocked back the last of my fifth of Ezra Brooks..the only whiskey in the house is my expensive jug of "Bookers" that I've been saving for a special occasion..
Well, I'm sure a few snorts of the good stuff will help me invent a reason why tonight is special....
First entry to the Whiskey Rebel's Diary
Here I sit..waiting for my goddamn ebay auctions for tonight to end. I've got 18 minutes and 51 seconds to wait until the Coltrane cd auction ends..the big item of the night is a 7 vhs twin peaks set. It went for $25...paid $10 for it.
I'm half fucking pie eyed thanks to a triple shot bourbon and water and several Millers so far. I'm reading a Frank Sinatra biography today (by a guy named Taraborrelli ) which seems in the spirit of the b&w.
I read a book a couple years back ddicated to Sinatra's "flair"..his way of doing things. The best data included was Sinatra's personal bourbon and water recipe. It seems that Frank would blow his top if somebody mixed his drink ridiculously strong. He encountered the problem all the time..who wouldn't want to pour a stiff one for "the voice" ? If you handed him a 90% booze 10% water concoction he'd throw it in yer damn face..
Of course either Frankie or thee Whiskey Rebel can tell you (well, I'm more likely to tell you since ol' Frank's down in hell boozin' with Dino) that the BEST bourbon and water is about 2/3 booze, 1/3 water...(oreven arguably 50/50) on top of a few big ice cubes.
Anyway...Frank recommended letting the drink "rest" for 10 minutes or so before you rip into it...I agree. He always demanded Jack Daniels..which is a nice choice..although I'm not as brand loyal as he was. Jim Beam, Makers Mark, George Dickel and many other brands will do.
Ezra Brooks is the best "deal" out there by Pennsylvania pricing..$9.99 for a fifth of whiskey with a CORK in the bottle at no extra charge...UUrrppp