Welcome to the Whiskey Rebel's Diary
archives 08/30/02 to 7/03/02
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8/30/02
I read a LOT of books. I especially read alot of biographies/autobiographies. I started reading biographies when I was in grade school..and to be honest I'm running low on biographies in print I'm excited about reading. I've read multiple books about some folks..Hitler, U.S.Grant, Sinatra, Presley, etc. We live in a fairly small town with a small library....and I've already read every goddamned book I want to in the house I can easily find in the catagories of "true crime" "biographies" and "Westerns".
I took home a Stevie Ray Vaughan bio last week out of semi-desperation. I've never been a fan of his particularly. But, when his name comes up. I've always pointed out how I think "the wrong man died" when his helicopter went down several years ago; why do I say this?? a combination of Eric Clapton's and Stevie's crews and bands were being flown away in a helicopter convoy. Since I'm as much a smartass as the average guy..and since Eric Clapton has bored me since his Yardbirds/Derek and the Dominoes days..that's what I've said ever since the day old SRV died.
Now, I'm not trying in THIS case to make fun of the dead (even though it IS fun in lots of cases) and even though I know I'm gonna get alot of heat for feeling this way publicly (I now live in a State in which SRV is as treasured an icon in music circles as the Dallas Cowboys are in athletic circles) but I've got to say that I had to quit reading the Stevie book about halfway through; WHY?? I was beginning to HATE the guy the more I read. Yeah, ME..the guy who just wrote a piece (for "nice pooper") comparing and contrasting the recent Donny Osmond and Motely Crue bio's; ME the guy who has read EVERY entertainers book from Wayne Newton to Jayne County.
Why was I beginning to hate Mr. Vaughan?? It's simple; even though he may have been a blues guitar god, in his day to day life he was a BLUES SNOB DICKHEAD. I read an account of his back stabbing David Bowie who put alot of bread in his mouth (or should I say a LOT OF DOPE IN HIS ARM??) ; OK I said. ALOT of people hate Bowie. But then, I read about him backstabbing all the 70's "outlaw country" folks that played here in Texas (he said "they aren't musicians..they're CLOWNS..") and THEN I read about him backstabbing not just the CLASH whom he opened for in Austin..but their fans too because they booed his ass.
HHmmm. Finally, I skipped ahead and looked at the pictures of him and his bands over the years particularly in the 80's. YYEECCH!!!! No WONDER he seemed like such a goddamned arrogant blues snob; he and his band looked and dressed like all the blues snob assholes we hated so much in Portland during the same years. Yunno, thrift store suit jackets and beanies and soul patches decorating as idiotic a mentality as Loverboy or Bryan Adams.
To top it all off he was a typical druggie who owed a jillion people money who he never bothered to pay when he made a lot of dough eventually. I came to the realization long ago that I needn't be bashful or "open minded" about bashing in print TALENTED people who think they're gods gift and above criticism. It's the SIGN OF A DICKHEAD when a talented musician only appreciates the genre of music he or she presides over.
I don't have TIME to read about snooty pricks; if you want to idolize him thats YOUR choice. Jimi Hendrix was 10 times better anyway; always was...always will be. What's more he was curious about every genre of music rather than be contented resting on his laurels as a guitar hero.
I'm SORRY Eric..now that I think about it the wrong guy DIDN'T go down in that air plane. I'm gonna go pop on a CREAM CD to celebrate.
8/28/02
It sure as hell didn't take long to figure out the identity of the guy who made the threatening phone call I wrote about the last couple entries. I talked it over with Jeff Clayton (who knows him..along with virtually every other C.O.S. member) for a while. I hope the guy calls here or emails to make it right. THEN we can laugh it all off...and I WILL..when he does. Until then..a threat is a threat is a threat. What's so funny about it?? As a fellow Father I'm sure my old pal can understand THAT. This wasn't just a 3:00 am drunken phone message; we get tons of those..and ignore them instantly. This was a Sunday afternoon call...for Christs sake Grandma could've been here eating dinner after church with us. Deep down I don't think he gave any thought as to how many legit wacko threats come our way.
What puzzles me are the total strangers who walk up to me at one of our live gigs and act snotty...or stand in front of the stage yelling "FUCK YOU!!!!"..and when you tell them pointedly to fuck off back they get all serious and a look of horror on their damn face;
"WAIT A MINUTE..I LIKE YOU GUYS! YOUR band fuggin' RULES!!"
I blame it on G.G.; lots of these people seem to be big fans of his. I've talked to folks from other C.O.S. bands who get greeted in the same way and sometimes wound up popping some confused fan in the kisser.
Don't they realize that bands like ours get confronted exactly that way by people who mean to SERIOUSLY fuck with us?? Evidently not.
No, you don't have to walk up and kiss my ass..Just treat me like you would a friend of yours that plays in a band.
And don't EVER climb up on stage or grab the microphone to express your drunken appreciation of the band..that's a declaration of fucking WAR. I always appreciated the un-compromising way Cosmo dealt with fuckers who tried to encroach on our stage/turf.
I've been pelted with foreign objects while on stage (way back in the early days), we had a guy stabbed in front of the stage in the early 90's at an A.U. show, I watched a sound man put a cigarette out in the face of a friend whose band was "playing too loud" in his opinion (a riot ensued) a real live chronic arsonist tried to burn a hall down while we were on stage; HELL...it's second nature for musicians to be always ready for attacks from the audience.
Look how many wrestlers get attacked to and from the ring??? I've seen wrestlers get punched and blindsided with chairs. Lots of wrestlers (Roddy Piper for one) have been stabbed by crazy ass fans that were too worked up. Don't EVER approach a wrestler like you're threatening them..or they'll clock you..or a security guy will. And if they knock yer fucking teeth out..I say you had it coming.
Always approach me publicly with a six pack or fifth upraised..waggling it up over your head like a puppy dog's tail. ARF. Then I KNOW you come in peace with pleasant intentions.
8/26/02
I don't get alot of hate mail or weird phone calls. When I do, rather than blow my top and answer back..I keep track of it carefully. For instance, the phone call I got Sunday at 4:56 pm from my old home town of Philadelphia. The number was 215-917-8658 (wouldn't it be a shame if readers of this diary called that number in the wee hours and breathed heavily??). A message was left on our answering machine (I NEVER pick it up).
The caller claimed to be Jerry A from Poison Idea...and he said it was gonna be "bloodbath time" when he catches up with me. Of course it was an obvious hoax. Jerry doesn't talk with a Philly accent. I thought about it for a minute and realized that the caller could be either: A) a mis-guided friend who thinks he pulled off some sort of a joke; or B) a legitimate Whiskey Rebel hater.
It was obvious that the call was an idiotic response to my earlier diary entry that missed the point; SCROLL DOWN and READ IT and you'll see what I mean.
Where in the hell did the "mysterious" caller get the idea I was attacking Poison Idea?? I fucking prasied them. My negative comments were for cliche anarchy bands...which Poison Idea never was and Istrongly doubt ever will be. Am I to conclude that the caller believes that P.I. is a cliche anarchy band?? HAH!!!!
Poison Idea was fun to watch up close in the 80's and 90's because they ROSE ABOVE all the mainstream generic bands that spouted naive political lyrics. Jerry's lyrics often showed his nihilistic side; alot of other songs would begin with a grim depiction of ordinary life..and segue into some thigh slapping humorous side to it all. Go listen to "Ballad of a pre-op" or "Hangover Heart attack" and you''ll see what I mean.
One things for sure...their lyrics were miles above the average dreck that probably 90% of hardcore bands crank out.
A couple things. I DID make a reference to Pig being up on his "high horse" in relation to Antiseen. As Paul Harvey would say: Here's the REST of the story: Many months after Pig accused me of being a "faggot" for Joe Young (NOTE! I pointed out he was drunk at the time) He met up with the boys from Brutalsville at my house after one of their Portland shows. They got along great. He talked to Jeff Young 'til dawn. Pig generously played on the CONQUEROR WORM Simon Stokes tribute that Jeff and I masterminded.
If there's a NEGATIVE SIDE to doing this goddamned internet diary it's finding out after the fact that friends sometimes think I'm referring to THEM when I criticize somebody or some band without NAMING NAMES. There's a few good reasons why I don't always name names here. I don't want to glorify people I'm criticizing in many cases. Why should I make them famous??? An example is a guy who wrote a nasty email while I was on the road. He actually left his name and home town; OBVIOUSLY hewanted me to make a name for him. So, even though I'm bringing him up here I'm not going to publicize his name.
People are FUCKED UP in similar ways everywhere. They rarely are fucked up in a unique individual way. For instance...just as an example...record store clerks trained and assigned to RIP YOU OFF when you bring in your used vinyl and CD's. They're ALL THE SAME everywhere; they use the same tricks and psychological tactics to screw you whether you live in Boston or Salem Oregon. If I were to write about fucked up record buying practices (such as running mis-leading yellow page add's that read:"TOP DOLLAR PAID!!") clerks I've crossed path's with all over the country could take it personally.
I know this is true..because I get email from people nationwide all the time that confirms this. Luckily overseas readers can read without threat I'm backstabbing THEM.
I don't know who the "mystery" caller is..YET; I haven't yet made the simple call to solve the puzzle. I'm looking forward to a personal friend (that could mean MANY different people in all time zones..NO ONE SPECIFIC) who is curious taking it upon themself to call the number. I used to be a professional skip tracer..BELIEVE ME it would take me 5 minutes to figure it out...even though I'm pre-warning the crank caller here. I won't reveal how.
8/24/02
In the very, VERY early 1990's around the time we were planning the 2nd (of 4) RANCID VAT/ANTISEEN split 7" my good pal Pig Champion accused me in a drunken stupor of being a "faggot for Joe Young" (Antiseen's guitar player). Evidently my enthusiasm for the band was getting on his nerves. Well, if I was a closet fag for the boys from Brutalsville THEN..I guess that means I'm a full blown sperm guzzling brownie-hole-waggling punk by now.
Pig's band "Poison Idea" was damned successfull then..and they are still heralded for their greatness. I hear they are touring once again with Pig and Jerry A...I'm glad. More power to them.
Back "in the day" Pig could look down from his high horse on Antiseen as being a smaller, less known and therefore less significant band than his. Since those days I think that time has shown that Antiseen has risen above the scores of hardcore bands that moved alot of units during the mid 80's while blabbering a lot of impractical, unrealistic, juvenile lyrics. They might've been more popular in the 1980's if they had mimicked what so many other cliche "anarchy" lyric bands were sqauwking back then..but they DIDN'T. They stuck to their beliefs (how many singers/bands in the 1980's ever actually believed in all that anarchy hogwash??).
ANTISEEN today is an ongoing, productive band that produces NEW material all the time as opposed to other bands who started out in the 80's who join the "oldies" punk circuit to be part of a carnival freak show designed to raise drug money for drug casualty burnout punk rockers from hardcore bands who ruled the 80's.
Today I received in the mail a new CD reissue on the mighty TKO label of ANTISEEN'S first two 7"er's.."Drastic" (which goes for about $80 these days on Ebay) and "E.P. Royalty"....BOTH grafted together for the first time. There are no sophmoric lyrics to look past..it's a damned solid 14 tracks that still stands up today. Whats more, I also was lucky enough to receive (since I'm THAT GOOD) a double 7" vinyl version that will send my priceless original pressings into mothballs. What's MORE....TKO has reissued "blood of Freaks" which ranks high..VERY highly amongst the best Antiseen 7 inch slabs of all time. All of these releases are extremely significant culturally speaking..since practically NO BANDS with the exception of Antiseen existed in the Carolina's during the 80's and wrote original material that still stands the test of time. Yeah...a few hardcore bands recorded anti-South Pro-communist records...and then there's Rob Zombie..a product of Raleigh who has cloned Jeff Clayton's look for financial profit.
ANTISEEN has never gone away for longer than a few months here and there. Every time you think of a band from the 80's you used to like that seemed to quit pre-maturely due to shrinking audiences or drug habits...you should think of ANTISEEN and how they have risen ABOVE all those bands. They vowed early on to play to a handful of friends only..if that ever became neccessary. It never HAS of course. Their 2002 tour of Europe was a huge success. Even though American audiences in most American cities have turned to non-guitar oriented forms of music Antiseen manages to thrive unlike all the quitters staging reunions every few years or so.
I'm gonna go take a leak..scratch the itchy portions of my ass..and play the CD all over again....go ahead and call me a FAGGOT if it'll make you feel better. You don't matter anyway.
8/22/02
The hits in a short period of time for the last entry are incredible. I had hoped for that...I felt inspired. It's not meant that all the entries here should be of equal value entertainment wise or in any other way. Only now and then do I feel like doing much more than rattle off whatevers fresh in my mind be it profound, a wrestling wrap-up, toilet oriented or otherwise.
I visited a website featuring the work of a half dozen "writer's" who have banded together to convince you how they are all equal parts 1)white trash 2) uninhibited and 3) profound.
I say, PROFOUND MY FUCKING ASS. On my worst day IN MY SLEEP I'm on a par with those fucking circle-jerk Bukowski rip-offs. What a bunch of pretentious darlings. It seems like in order to qualify for their little group you either have to be a total fucking ignoramus (I'm only a PART TIME ignoramous) or at the very least PRETEND to be.
Why is it that I envision in my mind a half dozen other writers groups whom I've never even been exposed to assuming I'm referring to them???
The problem with writers working as a group reading each other their shit is that it all gets reduced to the lowest common denominator...the "weakest link(s)" should be shunned and avoided rather than receive attention and encouragement.
The internet is LOADED with information about writer's organizations and groups. I can't even imagine what goes on at these mutual literary masturbation get togethers.
I wrote JOBJUMPER with ZERO encouragement and help from ANYBODY...and the other 2 I've finished that haven't seen the light of day yet. I know it's not for everybody..but it's MILES beyond fuckers who sit around wasting time taking pictures of each other posing with malt liquor bottles and stained baseball caps to imply their "credibility. Look at what these fuckers WRITE. It's usually about a paragraph or two about how they really told somebody off at a bar or a flea market or a bus.
These fuckers are on a par with the class D and C and B players I used to annihilate without effort in about 15 moves at chess tournaments.
Ok. I know that damned few people reading this value chess playing acumen. I understand. Frankly, I'd rather be able to play guitar like about a half dozen friends of mine who are clueless over a chess board. But, that's not the way I was built. I was BORN a minor chess prodigy...I didn't ask for it. I was first recorded on vinyl about 21 years ago playing guitar..and I STILL don't know the name of a couple of the strings. I really wish I could have been born a great guitar player..but I wasn't. I was a great BASSOON player instead..cool, HUH???
When I read the works of the majority of "skilled" writers who dominate the library and book store shelves I'm reminded why so many of my guitar playing friends DON'T BOTHER TO READ. Teachers from day one in grade school always push the most awful fucking boring writers imaginable on their students.
Instead of boring crap written by Victorian age old biddies and venerable old bearded fucks who write rhyming poetry the world would be a better place if kids were influenced to read ICEBERG SLIM or AMBROSE fucking BIERCE or ERSKINE CALDWELL. But no....NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!! We can't have THAT!! Those guys used dirty words.
Just like in so many other facets of societal living the Christians fucking have their way..AGAIN.
On the other hand, just because you use "obscene" or shocking language in your writing doesn't mean it's worth a fucking fart in a whirlwind. Evidently that's the extent of the abilities of alot of group circle-jerk writers.
I'll grant those folks one thing..at least they're closer to understanding the often less than fabulous human existance than the majority of professional "writer's"..main stream story tellers with master's degrees in English. Ivory tower intellectuals who've often never been exposed to the nasty realities of life: Monday morning job interviews. Dead mice in the air conditioning duct. The wonderful world of Junker auto's. These folks usually specialize in paperback romances or by the numbers mysteries..they don't NEED any real insight to succeed quite happily churning that shit out. And they DO..and they WILL.
I wouldn't want to trade places with them though; I'd still rather be able to play kickass guitar though.
Our cat Jinx just killed a wafer thin, tiny baby lizard that was the same color and consistancy of a string of SNOT. I'm gonna invite him to be the first member of my new writers "support" group. WHY NOT??
8/20/02
(GREETINGS: A SPECIAL message for Christians of all denominations. NOTE! I gave up arguing with you folks for the most part 20 years ago. I believe that organized religion in general..and specifically CHRISTIANITY in this country..is responsible for most of the global and national and community and family problems humanity has experienced for many century's. If you feel comforted by your faith..FINE. More power to you. Unless you want to risk getting upset, I suggest you don't read this. If on the other hand you have an intellectual curiosity about how your Christianity is perceived by agnostics and atheists I urge you to read the following diary entry. If you want to "save" me or others like me you NEED to understand where we're coming from. I think I've found with the help of the headlines a way to demonstrate why we resist organized religion. Again..if you are curious and don't mind having your faith challened..READ ON. Yee of fragile faith..please log off and go watch the Disney channel).
An internet news story attracted my attention late last night:
Nigerian Mother Loses Appeal Against Stoning Death (Reuters)
An Islamic court in northern Nigeria ruled Monday that a woman must face death by stoning according to Muslim law for having a child outside marriage.
- Aug 19 10:21 AM ET
Here in the US folks have been especially aware of AND pissed off at Muslims since 9/11/01. I can identify with that. I visited a special "message board" to see what sort of comments were being posted as a result of this latest example of Muslim "barbarianism". I should point out that I don't expect much intelligent comment beyond the Beavis and Butthead level in the middle of the night on public message boards. I wasn't surprised in this case. There were a couple ultra left wing "conspiracy" nuts claiming everything we've seen and heard since 9/11 is bogus; yunno...the US government is responsible for everything from the skyjackings to the followup anthrax.
I agree that we should question what we see in TV news shows. On the other hand I'm suspicious as hell of contrary reports from cause oriented groups who are obviously only out to discredit the mainstream media to further their own adjenda's. I have a HELLUVA time especially relating to ultra lefties who try to stir loving sentiments towards grouchy Muslim hardliners who are diametrically opposed to their Western manners, fashions, music and overall lifestyles.
The media ISN'T controlled by a single government source..ruling with an iron fist. It consists of many seperate voices and opinionated reporters and editors ALMOST ALL of whom are partial towards one of the two accepted political parties. Sometimes Republicans are made monkees of..and sometimes Democrats have an eye blackened. 3rd party or independant voices are routinely ignored..perhaps by an unspoken agreement between the media supporters of the 2 dominant groups. The tug of war between the forces of the right and left ensures to a certain extent that each side plays "watchdog" on the other.
Bottom line is, I'll trust CNN before I trust something I read on a leaflet handed out by a stooge employed by some tiny cause oriented politcal group.
Also posting on the message board were a couple real live Muslims..OR perhaps people from the opposition (this is a common message board tactic) spouting off cliche nonsense to make them look bad.
The folks arguing with these anti American types were a mixed lot ranging from "god bless America" types to drunken rowdies declaring their hatred for "towel heads".
Last night the loyal Americans posting made an awful lot of comments about the recent stories of Al queerdo's testing nerve gas on innocent dogs.
Back and forth like a game of "go fish" the chatter decorated with occasional bits of serious thought went. An avowed Muslim asked why Americans were concerned about DOGS..and not Iraqi babies who are starving..or victims of US bombing in Afghanistan. After a few obscene posts an American asked why the Muslim was concerned about Iraqi children and Afghan civilians..yet they celebrated with glee the deaths on 9/11.
Of course the hottest topic of the day was the lady in Nigeria who is going to be stoned for having achild outside of her marriage. One Woman asked why the man who impregnated her is not being punished. A Muslim pointed out that all faiths consider adultery evil; he stated something to the effect that the US NEEDS a radical law to do away with all the evil sex and drugs and drinking we wallow in. He actually used as a positive example the point that he would never consider stealing..as long as the punishment was having his hand chopped off.
Chopping hands off; stoning females guilty of adultery; head to toe garb for females; foot long beards for males; "towel heads"; holy war declarations; "holy" men packing automatic weapons. Welcome to the wonderful world of Islam. NO DRINKING! NO DRUGS! NO WESTERN MUSIC! NO WESTERN FASHION or decadent movies, etc, etc, etc.
American christians are TERRIFIED and FREAKED OUT over Muslims and their ancient ways and their ancient laws. From coast to coast people ranging from your Grandma to your school teacher to people riding in buses to executives in boardrooms are saying things like: "Why that's barbaric"!! "fucking towel heads" etc. etc.
But I'M saying...so WHAT'S NEW???
YOU CHRISTIANS of all denominations have been FREAKING ME OUT and others like me since I was old enough to be dragged to Sunday school against my will.
Welcome to the wonderful world of CHRISTIANITY: Nun's in head to toe garb (hey! just like Muslim Women!), snake handling, holy rolling, speaking in tongues, pedophile priests, senior church officials who refuse to toss pedophile priests out of the priesthood, stodgy smelly old farts groaning antiquatedhymns every Sunday morning, BLATANT psychological tactics employed in sermons meant to drive folks to the alter to be "saved". With a few exceptions Christian churches have ZERO TOLERANCE for drugs, ALCOHOL is preached against from the pulpit. Adulterer's are smugly run out of local churches.
Maybe the Christian's haven't stoned folks for a few centuries. But the way they tormented men of science..forcing them to either recant their beliefs publicly or swallow poison...now THERE"S a barbaric act.
Through most of the 20th century many American Christian churches were openly racist and sexist in various blatant ways. I don't have the room here to point fingers at each denomination..but I have room to ask: Why is this rarely discussed openly by the media?? HHmm??
CHRISTIANS...YOU FREAK ME OUT every bit as much as Muslims do. That's the bottom line. Furthermore, when you claim to have "visions" or "spiritual revelations" or "personal communication" with your lord I just shake my head; it doesn't sound any different to me than Muslims "holy revelations". When Muslims declare in advance that Allah has promised them "victory over the infidels" it just reminds me of the fact that the Christian god has "led to battle" every army that has ever fought (either successfully or not) in our countries history. HELLS BELLS....BOTH sides were equally convinced that "god" was on their side during the war between the States.
HEY...DON'T question my "patriotism" or sympathy's if you're offended by how silly your religion looks to me. I'm thankful to live in a country where I'm more or less free to get drunk everyday (as long as I follow sometimes strict local laws) and I'm thankful the drug laws and laws against theft and adultery aren't nearly as harsh as in Muslim law nations. If I posted this diary from most of those places I would have been dragged off to prison or my execution in the first week.
I've more or less found ways to co-exist with you Christians who are always looking for ways to cram their religion down my throat at SCHOOL or at WORK or ON THE JOB my entire life. I've also found myself co-existing quite well with individual Muslims at jobs over the years. But now things are different. "Holy war" has been declared by assholes in the middle east with extreme views towards the things I enjoy doing the most in life. Pacifists who want to appease these assholes (who make Jerry Falwall seem like a swell tolerant guy) are misguided in my book. People who worry endlessly about the rights of foreignors in our country are misguided.
The tragedy of 9/11/01 can be lain on the doorstep of organized religions clashing. It disgusts me that the masses in the US can't recognize the global trouble all these nutty antiquated religions cause.
The next time you see some lady wearing Muslim head to toe garb on TV and shake your head...REMEMBER! That's what YOUR religion looks like to those of us who don't need a spiritual "crutch". Instead of whining about the lady in Nigeria sentenced to be stoned, why not clean up your own backyard?? Express your anger about the pedophile priests who are being let off with a slap on the wrist.
And remember...if we kick Iraq's ass or finally catch Bin Laden and blow him to his "reward" it won't be because "god" is on our side. It'll be because of our military might and strength. PERIOD.
8/16/02
I've got to point out a factoid I just read at the Wrestling Observor site; Thursdays WWE "Smackdown" saw its first improvement in ratings in a long damn time. The promotion has really been sweating it obviously..people have been tuning out to their programming in droves. I bet they've spent hundreds of thousands of dollars consulting experts to tell them what's alienated the viewers. WELL HELL'S BELL'S..they could've been reading this diary for free for the last several months and they would've been able to read the plain truth without need of hiring a bunch of expensive suits to hash it over.
As I've said in these pages OVER AND OVER AND OVER again: "Chump Hogan RUINS every promotion he wrestles for". In the case of the WWE..he has lived up to this guarantee ratings wise. Go back and read the archive of this diary since February or so and you'll see me warning Vince NOT to bring Chumpster and the Nwo overated "ooh my pinky hurts I can't wrestle tonight" bores in to contaminate his promotion. NOTE! When he DID bring them all in, I speculated (go look it up) that he may be excercising a deep sort of revenge on the mighty nwo; I admitted that Vince's TRUE intention was possibly to get them on TV and bury them for all time. I'd say Scott Hall buried himself pretty well..after a few weeks of being slapped around by Steve Austin he lived up to his reputation as a free spirit according to my sources; he drank his way off the roster. Kevin Nash NEVER ONCE crawled out of the sick bay to wrestle anybody one on one! It was a case of one injury after another. After several weeks even the internet jerk offs were plugging their collective noses at the "nwo" schtick. It's been buried as of this writing. Go chart my complaints and rants about Hogan and you'll see two intersecting lines reflecting the dramatic drop in ratings over the months he's been back in the fold. Yeah, he has his faithful little group of moronic fans..but he turns EVERYBODY ELSE off. I've gotten at least a dozen emails from folks who have quit watching WWE programming due to the fact they can't stand Hogan's balding visage on their TV screen. Here at Brilliancy Prize records headquarters we eventually totally kissed off weekly wrestling. And, might I say that here at Brilliancy Prize records what WE hate about the sport of wrestling coincides with what TRUE WRESTLING FANS (as opposed to gals who tune in to see the Rock's "bulge") everywhere are hating.
After eventually tuning out wrestling for several weeks like lots of other fans I read todays announcement that after weeks of sheer panic at WWE headquarters the ratings for Smackdown have FINALLY shown a bit of improvement. This just HAPPENS to coincide with Hogan being written out of the show utilizing an "injury" angle at the hands of Brock Lesnar after a dispute between Hogan and Vince behind the scenes concerning a huge show in Australia he evidently wanted more money from. Big Brock is said to have "killed Hulkamania"; even J.R. said so repeatedly Monday night (we tuned in for the first time in awhile to see if WWE was going to be Hogan free).
In a nutshell, immediately after the departure of Hogan..the ratings begin to pick up. I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO!!!!!!!!!!!! HO HO HO HO HO HO HO HO HO HO HO!!!
Chump Hogan's diehard fans are the same people who spend $120 on Beatle lunch boxes..the same geniuses that own every over priced little trinket relating to the Star Wars movies. Hogan is a pop culture figure..NOT a wrestler. If you gear weekly WWE programming to that element you're gonna piss off the WRESTLING fans.
Even the internet geeks I criticize often aren't dumb enough to be Hogan fans. The stupidest sheep that used to sit together at ECW arena shows and chant slogans fed to them upon cue wouldn't give Hogan the time of day. They're into watching guys get their brains beat out in the squared circle...NOT watching a guy as old as their Grandpa's "hulking up" like Popeye. Yeah..we got THAT in common guys: give us TABLES and TITS and ASS and FOLDING CHAIRS and goddamned 5 star FROG SPLASHES and BLOOD and MORE BLOOD and MORE BLOOD..and a tape of BARBED WIRE and EXPLOSIVES and STAPLER matches with onions to go.
I'm telling you now Vince, DON'T BRING HIM BACK. Let him work his next few "retirement" runs in Japan. Gradually word will get around that Raw and Smackdown are safe to watch..Hogan free...and the disgruntled wrestling fans will come back to the fold.
8/14/02
TWO Austin Rancid Vat shows coming up very damned soon; 9/9/02 at Emo's (with the Bulemics) and a FREE jolly celebration of the new RANCID VAT release: the CHEESESTEAK YEARS CD (Steel Cage label) at the Sound Exchange on Saturday 9/21 at 3:00 pm.
We're going to the studio on 9/11....how appropriate. Who else??
Oh SHUT UP.
Have I crowed in this journal yet about Elvis band CD being played on pirate radio in Austin?? For those who have their heads up their asses the band name is the CATS FROM MARS and the song played is "I hate censorship fuckfuckfuckfuck". What a chip off the old god damned block. We're quietly checking out a couple possible permanent singers to replace Elvis who is a temp by his own choice. Better enjoy his talents at the C.O.S. supershow in New Orleans while you have the chance. It's not something we'll be pulling off all that often as he establishes his own goddamned band and matures past the crucial 18 year mark (a couple few days before the supershow in fact).
What the hell..after Marla and I drop dead (me first of course by many, many years) he'll be able to cash in on a huge stockpile of our records; So, he should pick up the slack when he can for the family business.
WWE has bounced back a tad bit quality wise. With the stap around the waist of the Chumpster for awhile and the "nWo" being pushed heavily for awhile things almost couldn't help but eventually get better. Happily, the NWO lardasses are GONE and the Chumpster has been somehow coerced into putting over Brock Lesner big time. Elvis and I were happy to realize yesterday that we aren't even aware of whom the Chumpster is facing at the next PPV his role has been so diminished. A fine bellweather.
The "unAmericans" angle is pretty good..both guys have deserved a push for a long time. jericho's heel skills have raised another notch or two lately. Everywhere you turn you see guys in the wings being pushed as a reaction to the piss poor ratings. They've got a LONG ways to go to get back to a position where they are on a par with the programming they were presenting when Mick Foley and Steve Austin were on board (and Vince was visible).
Eric Bishoff turns me off and seems useless. I don't understand why WWE seems so addicted to having a power struggle at the management level as a constant ongoing part of their programming. Vince vs. Linda..Vince vs. each of his kids..Vince vs. BOTH kids at once..Vince vs. the WCCW "invasion"..oh yeah..the ECW "invasion too place at the same time. Vince vs.. commisioner Foley..commisioner Michaels..Owner Flair. They've already pulled the general bit off a couple times well and several times horribly. Can we ever expect to see the action revolve around WRESTLERS again any time in the near future?? Why do they repeatedly work "commisoner" and "owner" angles OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER ad infinitum..(that's piss poor Latin for "enough already Vince!"). What could they be thinking?? It's strange that an examination of the story lines small promotions are using shows that they're copying this "owner/commisioner" hogwash almost without exception.
The bookers for the small promotions know DAMN WELL that the WWE is suffering through it's worse ratings crisis in years. So, why don't they try to steal the WWE's thunder for once?? what are they waiting for?? internet geeks always like to claim that the small promotions have such greater integrity than evil corrupt Vince. Why don't they strike back while he's at his weakest with a fresh batch of storylines??
But no...from Pawtucket to Boise to Charleston indy wrestlers are all engaged in wrestling for one side or another of a commisioner feud. FUCK.
By the way, it was sad to hear last week of the passing of Don Owen..the lynch pin of the promotion family that booked the Northwest territory where I grew up. I'll say this about ol' Don..and I'd like to hear from "Portland Wrestling" fans (and fans from Eugene, Seattle, etc.) about their impressions upon seeing him in action in the ring for the first time. He didn't strut into the ring like a hotshot; he didn't wear tuxedoe's. He'd wear almost mis-matched dress clothes that looked like they were bought off of the rack at J.C. Penney or Sears. He was OLD..or at least he APPEARED old when I first saw him in the late 60's. He stammered and tripped over his words while he introduced the wrestlers..very often getting a name or a home town completely wrong.
I tell you what..I didn't know THEN as a child....and I STILL DON'T KNOW TODAY exactly how much Don Owen's ignorance and fashion simplicity and stammering and getting guys names wrong was put on or not. He fooled me from day one until the show went off the air. I LOVE IT when wrestling shows have me totally baffled in this day and age in which every dickhead with a computer is an internet wrestling geek "expert".
He'd pronounce a heel's name wrong and they'd occasionally grab him by the shirt front as if they were going to pop him one in his very fragile looking kisser. He looked VERY old and defenseless. I have footage of an enraged Billy Jack Haynes at the beginning of one of the best heel reigns I've ever witnessed grabbing Don Owen in a loose headlock and screaming..spit FLYING; "I'm NOT from Oregon OLD MANNNN!!!..Don't you EVER say I'm from OREGON!!" Owen shivered and looked like he was ready to cry or faint LEGIT.
He NEVER broke charachter. NEVER. He NEVER "wrestled" witrh a partner in a gimmicky match. He made the WRESTLERS look good. Damn..was he good at that. Green wrestlers would come into the territory barely able to talk..but leave with topnotch mic skills..ready to headline Madison square garden or the Cow palace in San Francisco or Georgia Championship wrestling. Roddy Piper...Jesse Ventura..Jimmy Snuka..Billy Jack Haynes..the Sheepherders (Bush wackers)..Stan Stasiak. Lonnie Mayne..the Youngbloods. Ed Wiskowski (Colonel De Beers). Scott Norton. Dynamite Kid..Adrian Adonis. Matt Borne (Doink). I could name 50 more if I wanted to.They all were groomed in the Northwest by Owen's promotions. He'd book champions from the NWA and AWA to appear a few times per year. Thanks to Owen's promotions I got to see Ric Flair many times. He booked Andre often too as well as all time greats Gene Kininski, Don leo Jonathon, Bearcat Wright, Mad Dog Vachon and others on occasion.
I attended a tribute card to Don Owen in 1984 or so at Portlands memorial coliseum. It wasn't a fund raiser..it was meant to commemorate his long time in the business. The list of wrestlers working the card was a testimony to his status as a top promoter. Ric Flair defend the NWA strap; Rick Martel defended the AWA title. Yep...BOTH TITLES defended the same night..RARE. The Road Warriors wrestled Ivan and Nikita. Roddy Piper tangled with Buddy Rose. Sergeant Slaughter, the Mega-Maharishi (another Wiskowski bit!) I'm forgetting a few big names..but you get the idea.
When BJ Haynes started up a rival promotion in Oregon city Owen replied by pulling out ALL STOPS for his Saturday night televised shows; every week guys like Nord the Barbarian and the Grappler and Brian Adams caved in the heads of fan favorites with garbage cans and kendo sticks and brass knucks.The action became VERY hardcore all of a sudden. Buddy Rose tried to suffocate opponents with plastic bags he'd tie over their heads. Coal miners glove matches, cage matches, hair matches, etc. EVERY WEEK. It took only about 6 weeks to run Haynes promotion (which looked damned good on TV) out of business.
I'd like to salute the memory of Don Owen...with a big shot of Old Taylor.
UUmmm.
Yunno, I bellyache about lots of things about having had to grow up in Oregon all the time; but I swear on this jug I've never once in my life envied friends who grew up watching wrestling in other parts of the country. I've got a huge wrestling video tape library nowdays and I've SEEN over the years what I missed in the WWWF and down South in Florida, in St. Louis and in Georgia andTexas and the Carolina's; all those promotions were hotbed's of wrestling activity..but I SWEAR the action I saw growing up beats all.
We can argue over that..but what you opinonated fans from other territories HAVE to agree with is the fact that even if you never watched 5 minutes of "Portland Wrestling" Owen's promotions effected what YOU SAW that was so cool by grooming workers to wrestle in the bigger cities. Belatedly, my condolences to Mr. Owen's family. He must've been a great guy.
8/12/02
Got a new brand of whiskey yesterday; of course, it's actually very goddamned OLD. It's just new to ME. It's "Old taylor"..a fine product of America's holy land..Kentuckey. It seems pretty fair...it's not as good and distinctive as JIM BEAM or REBEL YELL or JACK DANIELS or MAKERS MARK or GEORGE DICKEL or EZRA friggin' BROOKS..but it's very good. Here goes another shot down the damn hatch.
Hhmmm. Solid. If Ernest Tubb= Jim Beam than Old Taylor= Charlie Walker.
I found a website of a sort of whiskey fueled philospher a while back whose work I've just equalled without trying very hard in one paragraph. I admire the guys effort..but I can't quite swallow his "folksy" vocabulary which seems lifted from Louis L'Amour novels. Yunno..."I'm a hankerin' for some HOTcakes". The fact is that Louis L'Amour was a very educated man who traveled the world over and only resorted to Beverly Hillbillies dialect when it suited one of his poorly educated charachters.
The home-spun whiskey rebel guy whose website I visited deliberately comes across like a human-cracker-barrel-restaurant menu. FUCK THAT.
I can't remember the guys pen-name or else I'd reveal it. I'm not even sure why I chose this 4:35 a.m. to remember him.
I don't even remember which brand of whiskey he touts. He looked a bit like Lefty Frizzell with a beard. HHmmm.
One of the nicest "celebrities" I ever waited upon when I was in the retail biz was infamous cartoon voice (go look him up punk) Dallas McKinnon. He specialized in the kind of voices that the alternate-reb uses in his daily literary meanderings (HEY!!! he'd NEVER use a word like "meandering"). When I was a kid the worst present I ever got was a book of rhymer-poetry from my Grandma in St. Joe Missouri by "James Whitcomb Riley". The only pearl of wisdom I remember from that volume was "it takes a HEAP of livin' to make a house a home"....
Either I'm very, very, very drunk or that's a word for word quotation.
I fucking can't stand all those cheesey old poet-laureat (sp?!) types. When I see Maya Angelou on TV I gag...particularly when she's reading aloud. I have NO use for touchy-feely socially conscious poetry. I have almost NO use for anybodies goddamned poetry with the exception of the great one..Charles Bukowski. I've read 'em all from Blake to Plath..and I'm just not entertained. I'll take a goddamned novel anyday.
If you don't like der Buker there are plenty of novelists to read: how about if I nominate Hubert Selby as the novelist of the day for 8/12/02??? tune in tommorrow for another novelist's name whom you probably won't read.
I'm gonna go crap..and I just may wipe my damn ass with the pages of a folksy Western genre novel in which the charachters magically never need to take a shit.
8/09/02
We have a new addition to our damn house..a 10-12 week old kitten we named DIXIE. He's crazy as fuck..like many other goddamned kittens. We wanted to get a cat that would kick our old faithful cat for 6 years Mr. Jinx in the goddamned ass a bit.
Anybody that wants to bitch about the Hanna Barbara references in our cats names can suck my asshole, OK?? I'm a huge fan..so what??
Speaking of my favorite cartoon stable of all time I feel like pointing out the greatness of Sunday night "adult swim" on the cartoon network. These cartoons are fucking over the top..and NOT kiddy oriented. Definetly worth watching; case in point "Harvey Birdman attorney at law"..the last case Birdman defended Fred Flintstone of organized crime related charges. Then theres "Sealab 2021" which is a "futuristic" Hanna Barabara art/adult theme cartoon that deals with adult "issues" aboard an undersea lab. Eric Estrada provides the voice of one of my favorite charachters. Then there's the "Aqua teen hunger force"..probably my favorite of the animated shows designed for "adult swim". There's a glob of meat who's a doofus..a dopey walking talking milkshake and a pack of french fries with a similar brace of facial hair, annalytical abilities and voice to my good pal Larry Kaye; their landlord is a hairy backed guy from New Jersey named Carl. Whoever wrote this series lives in Philly or nearby Jersey.
I don't go for too many new cartoons..which I'm pointing out to lend weight to my recommendation for people to tune in religiously. "Space Ghost" and "the BRAK show" are part of "adult swim"..two longtime favorite charachters of mine. Urp.
No wonder we give our cats Hanna Barbara inspired names around here. I tell you what, I fucking HATE more trendy cartoons though (such as Scooby Doo) than you may guess from my earlier positive words. Urp. Urp. Urp.
I watched about 1/2 hour of the "leave it to Beaver" movie made a few years ago tonight. It fucking SUCKED. Almost all remakes fucking suck.
If I held any hopes that a supreme deity existed I'd pray that a "Green Acres" remake is never attempted; but FUCK..the fact that "the Addams family" and "Car 54" (even David Johansen couldn't salvage it) were both remade proves that no supreme deity exists..at least not one I'd ever choose to yakk with. The "Beverly Hillbillies" movie remake was blessed....because Jim Varney chose to participate..otherwise it would've sucked.
I also feel the need to point out that Elvis and I have been quite taken lately with TV dating shows. "Rendezview" attracted our attention first; the male host is the kinda guy you'd have host your bachleor party if you knew somebody that suave/raunchy/funny at the same time. Then there's the XLNT "Shipmates" with a host who makes the late Wally Cox look like a stud. The show pairs off 2 horny singles on a "love boat"; WOW! You can't go wrong with a show like this...if they're both dickhead narcisists..(they usually are) SO MUCH THE BETTER!! Then there's "Blind date" which is damned irreverent compared to the other shows; Needless to say we seriously appreciate the fact that the producers tamper/fuck with the 2 lucky contestants behind the scenes to make the show more exciting.
That's cool with me. Whatever it takes to entertain ME..HOLY ME.
OOpps...I almost forgot about "Elimidate". The producers very obviously prod contestants into knocking each other's personalities, physiques and tactics to make the show more amusing. The best episode was a 2 on 1 gay male extravaganza.
None of these dating shows are as transparent and tacky as "Rikki" and "Jenni Jones" and "Maury Povich". They target a a demographic group clearly 5 I.Q. points beyond the 85-90 average of the rigged discussion shows. I 'd love to see a 24 hour dating show channel...
Not likely quite yet..but I can dream can't I??
8/06/02
At exactly midnite earlier this evening I clicked the button on top of my stop watch into the "OFF" position. A smug grin expanded my mouthline from a sparse narrow line into a toothy oval shape. Why was I so tickled all of a sudden?? Today was the 25th anniversary of the day Marla and I walked the isle at that crappy Lutheran church in Renton Washington. A few hours earlier I had realized that not one..NOT ONE single relative of any rank from either of our families had so much as written, telephoned or emailed to acknowledge the blessed day. People of my Mother and Marla's Father's generation often rented BALLROOMS to celebrate 25th anniversaries; it's a BIG day..at least it was back in the 20th century. Here in the 21st we received ONE phone call (thanks Don) NO emails and NO cards or letters. On our 20th anniversary Elvis contacted several of our friends and organized a sort of group present..a 25" TV that still works great. I'm still touched and pleased that so many people cared. Obviously, either #1)nobody gives a damn anymore #2) nobody knew it was our 25th anniversary or #3) it's simply a dead holiday in this new century given the managled domestic lives of most people these days..almost NOBODY stays married like we have for this long. I don't want people to focus on their own divorces and split ups..and by celebrating our tenacity at putting up with one another..well, it may make them feel like shit.
On the other hand, coming on the heels of the aborted un-bookable mess of the Rancid Vat 20th anniversary gala..total non-recognition of our 25th wedding anniversary makes me a little jealous. An Uncle and Aunt of mine had to rent a union hall to hold the celebrants at their 25th; they received SILVER gifts up the ass. Marla went to Fred and Toody Cole's (yunno..Dead Moon) 25th bash..and there was a HUGE crowd drinking and eating and they jumped romantically together clothed into the swimming pool. You'd think we'd rate 5 or 6 people drinking at a tavern..or maybe an intimate Tuesday night show at a club with us playing.
But nope. The phone hasn't rang in days (except for Don's message).
Incidentally....DON'T anybody send me a poster for your bands "5th" or "10th" anniversary show" (If you do I'll blow snot all over it the first chance I get).
Not unless you want to help get started organizing our Rancid Vat 25th anniversay show coming up in a bit over 3 years.
Elvis made us a huge tempura feed..delicatelybattered (in a Japanese manner) shrimp, catfish, scallions, mushrooms, etc. THANKS Elvis..we know YOU give a shit.
Is it any wonder I write so much negative stuff about my Mother..my Father inlaw..my Sister..Marla's siblings..??? regardless of whether anybody else gives a crap about our anniversary...doesn't it behoove THEM at least to call or send a damn $1.25 card?? Hey guys..we're on the edge of our seats waiting to receive "graduation" notices from your kids..so that we can WIPE OUR BLOODY ASSES with them.
Next up..a story emailed to me that simply MUST be passed along:
"WOW!! What a woman! MELBOURNE, Australia --Gun-toting granny Ava Estelle, 81, was so ticked-off when two thugs raped her 18-year-old granddaughter that she tracked the unsuspecting ex-cons down - - and shot off their testicles.
The old lady spent a week hunting those men down -- and when she found them, she took revenge on them in her own special way, said Melbourne police investigator Evan Delp. Then she took a taxi to the nearest police station, laid the gun on the sergeant's desk and told him as calm as could be: 'Those bastards will never rape anybody again, by God.'
Cops say convicted rapist and robber Davis Furth, 33,lost both his penis and his testicles when outraged Ava opened fire with a 9-mm pistol in the hotel room where he and former prison cellmate Stanley Thomas, 29, were holed up. The wrinkled avenger also blew Thomas' testicles to kingdom come, but doctors managed to save his mangled penis, police said. The one guy, Thomas, didn't lose his manhood, but the doctor I talked to said he won't be using it the way he used to, Detective Delp told reporters. Both men are still in pretty bad shape, but I think they're just happy to be alive after what they've been through. The Rambo Granny swung into action August 21 after her granddaughter Debbie was car jacked and raped in broad daylight by two knife-wielding creeps in a section of town bordering on skid row. "When I saw the look on my Debbie's face that night in the hospital, I decided I was going to go out and get those bastards myself 'cause I figured the Law would go easy on them,""
WOW! makes me want to dig up my copies of "Deathwish" #'s 1-3 for a mini-marathon.
Last night Elvis and I wound up on a website called "realbeer.com" or something like that. Even though they seemed to offer info about classic corporate American breweries their text repetitively referred to "microbrews" in a positive fashion.
HHmmm. The problem I have with micro-spew (along with the inflated prices and 99% bad taste in my book) is primarily the company it keeps. "Brew-pubs" are brightly lit hellholes. The people who drink at places like that are often Phish-fans or even worse. I know a few hardcore drinkers who like to DRINK micro-spew..and thats alright with me; unfortunately micro-spew is most often SIPPED....and not nearly as often for the purposes of getting shitfaced as the micro-snots who gloat about the beers they've "discovered" like to crow about. YEAH!!! I'm calling about 95% of them out here and now; they're SIPPERS..NOT DRINKERS. They might argue in an outraged manner.. "but my beer is 8.5%!!"
Well, I say you're a fucking PHONEY if you're gonna sip 3 12 ounce beers at 8.5% compared to a REAL beer drinker who drinks 5% beer by the goddamned GALLON.
That's just like my ex-friend who used to whine about 80 proof whiskey as opposed to his 92 proof. He'd drink the slightly stronger stuff..but pass out in a half hour; I'd drink better tasting 80 proof and remain on a happy drunken plateau until the sun came up. (Quit fooling around and just go get a dope habit if you want to get knocked out in a half hour..but don't come around HERE). )
Anyway, we found a huge listing of "beer games" on this website which looked a bit fishy at first glance. We examined the beer drinking games in depth. TO OUR DISGUST..we had learned that the games had obviously been invented and contributed by "sippers"; the object of most of the games was to AVOID having to take a damn drink?? Jesus fucking Alou...what's the point of THAT??
For instance..one game you dropped a shot glass (empty?!?) into a pitcher of beer; the object was for people to dribble beer from their glasses like tards until the glass sank..at which point the LOSER (??????) had to drink the beer?!?!
Another game involved people placing thier thumbs on the edge of the table..until the "LOSER" (the last person to get their thumb up) was forced to drink a beer.
Most of the games were as dumb as those two. There WAS a great game involving chugging beers as fast as possible and throwing tables around..but games that rewarded drinking were in the minority.
Elvis and I have decided to offer up some drinking games to share..meant to REWARD thirsty drunks with what they want the most..delicious ice cold CORORATE beer.
First off, there's "NAME THAT BEER" which Elvis is hosting with me as the contestant this very moment. In front of me is two shot glasses filled with ice cold corporate beer samples. It is my task to identify WHICH is Bud..and WHICH is Miller. OOOPS! I guessed wrong....so, Elvis gets a beer to chug. He's going to pour a couple more soon..and if I'm right this time I get TWO beers as my reward to chug off (ALONG WITH the tiny samples).
Hey..I JUST WON the second round.
Next game: "Beer Scrabble". There are 3 changes from standard Scrabble..#1 curse words ARE ALLOWED along with derogatory remarks. #2 you get a beer after every word..and naturally #3 Upon agreement of the drinkers/players if intoxication doesn't come as quickly as desired slang and mis spellings are allowed. We've played this one in the past..and I can GUARANTEE it's for DRINKERS..NOT sippers.
Then there's a game that is fairly common.."Beer checkers" or "Whiskey Checkers". Instead of non-drinkable plastic checkers the board is set with shot glasses filled either with ICE COLD CORPORATE BEER or WHISKEY (it's fun to include both). When you jump your foe's checker..you gargle the contents on the spot. UUmmmmm.
I remember when I was a kid just starting out as a drinker the older guys I played chess with played a pool side game involving a chess clock, bottles of beer and of course a swimming pool (NOTE! it works best if you're wearing a bathing suit and it's a hot damn day). You give each player 5 minutes on their side of the clock..and follow ordinary Speed-chess rules as sanctioned by the United States Chess Federation..WITh the exception that every time you call "check" you are entitled to a chug off of your beer. At the end of the game the winner is entitled to CHUG HIS REMAINING BEER and leap into the pool.
Before I get into the next game, I need to explain a basic physical principle many professionally designed "drinking" board games are hip to. That is the fact that if you take a dozen or a score or 50 tiny thimble drinks in a short period of time..it's gonna pack a WALLOP!! I don't know just why; I GO ALONG with positive forces of nature like that.
With that in mind, for your consideration: "LAST MAN SITTING"..a game that is perfect for parties. Get a long table..or a large round table. Squeeze as many avid CORPORATE BEER drinkers as possible around the table with adaquate "pouring room". Out fit each drinker with at least a few opened beers to start off with. The play begins with each contestant having a full shot glass of beer: YEAH!! I KNOW that's a tiny ammount of beer..but WAIT!! Spin a bottle (preferably capped) in the center of the table to determine who goes first. That drinker slams down his shot of beer; play proceeds to his/her right..with that drinker being granted 3 seconds (make sure to appoint a judge) to chug his or her shot; play proceeds around the table with players being eliminated by not meeting the time quota. NOTE! Vomiting= disqualification..unless all players agree to waive the rule. The game proceeds rapidly with lots of happy shotglass slamming..it's FUN!! New players who scoff at the idea of what a tiny shotglass of beer can do are quickly educated on the physics of consuming oxygen laced beer so frequently. The winner has their choice of SLEEPING without being pissed upon..or their choice of ice cold corporate beers in the frig.
Elvis and I just played a round of one of our fave musical drinking games. He selected 3 CD's and kept them hidden from me. It was my job to ask 5 questions (like the "Dating" game) to help me pick one CD that I meant to choose as MINE..."CD#1 CD#2 or CD#3. At that point I was shown the cover of the CD (or album..OBVIOUSLY) I chose. In this case the CD I chose (luckily for me) was "the Real Mr. Heartache" by Johnny Paycheck. I named so many songs that I earned "open bar" status with Elvis delivering rounds with a hand truck. It's rare to select a CD that you can name more than 3 songs..but usually you can name 1 or 2..so it's a good game. NOTE! part of the fun is you get to hear the songs you name. NOTE! players are instantly disqualified for secretly selecting Barbara Streisand or Styx albums to stump contestants.
Elvis and I are into baseball trivia bigtime. We're also into DRINKING beer bigtime. We love to combine the two. One night we developed a game utilizing the facilities of one of the net's handiest sites: baseballreference.com
Get a relatively sober contestant to set up on a table or rug a vague 1-9 baseball diamond pattern with beers..each beer representing one of the fielding positions. For fun you may agree to make the pitcher or shortstop a shot of jagermeister or whiskey or whatever. While one thirsty player is poised in front of the layout of 9 drinks..the other sits at a handy computer terminal summoning up data from the aforementioned website. The person at the computer selects a decade and a team..and checks as the contestant calls out one bonafide position player at EACH POSITION for that decade and team; for each successful guess the reward is the beer or shot representing that position. NOTE! one wrong guess and the player is "out". At that point the computer drunk gets to select a beer from the layout..and the contestant is given a 2nd chance at either guessing the teams managers name..OR changing team/decade.
I can see this game translating into a wrestling trivia-fest-beer-bash by creative drunks utilizing "kayfabememories.com". The point is..there are lots of games designed to help willing DRINKERS get happily drunk; and they beat the shit out of games designed to avoid getting drunk. if you don't agree with that basic principle..why don't you go check out a few "boy band" websites you frigging SIPPER. That's where YOUR KIND belong.
I just took a stroll to the baffroom. I wapped it out and was spraying urine into the stool at a rapid rate. I FARTED..and for some biological reason as I was farting my piss-stream increased dramatically. I fantasized I was pissing up the nose of a lying, exagerrating, Phish loving micro-spew SIPPER.
8/0402
I fucking knew this was going to happen...my foot has recovered a good deal; I walked around on it today without bandage or crutch. So what happens? the knee on my other leg is sore as hell due to 4 weeks of covering the BAD one. I bet tomorrow I wind up in bed with 2 legs out of service.
Our dumbass cat found and killed a tiny baby lizard. Good work Mr. Jinx. Can we expect a plague of lizards??? or how 'bout LOCUSTS???
8/03/02
I'm still alive..I think. I've had 3 more minor foot injuries over the last 24 hours after a few days of relatively peaceful recovery. I'm fighting for life in this damned house. The most recent aggravation of my foot injury was 20 minutes ago when I stubbed my foot on the same blue plastic storage module that caused me to fall to the floor doubled over in agony 3 weeks ago. Marla in all her wisdom (?!) has set it under my computer table alledgedly so it will be out of sight making the room look a bit neater. I just took the ace bandage off today and even mowed part of our massive acre of lawn..but tomorrow I may be back on the damned sofa with my foot propped thanks to Marla's principle's of home beautification. She's been working massive overtime hours for weeks so I can't run into our bedroom where she's sleeping to scream at her like Ralph Cramden like I ordinarily would do. Considerate fellow, aren't I??
Our 25th wedding anniversay is this coming Tuesday. She's working at least 12 hours if not 16..so we're going to sort of acknowledge it tomorrow since it's her first day off in weeks. I wish I could put old wedding pictures up on this web site for people to look at; I think it's FUNNY how 70's we looked back then. We both had the same hair-do on our wedding day. I looked like Buddy Rose with brown hair. I wore a white tuxedo. HUH.
Marla utterly forbids even our closest friends to look at old wedding pictures for some damn reason. I'm just a meek and mild sort of hubbie..so I honor her wishes.
I can tell the world the details though. Let's take it from the top.
Marla and I first met working for the same door to door sales outfit. I was introduced to her and a few other girls at the same time; SHE was the only one who glared daggers at me. Hhhmmm I thought. We worked apart from each other for a few weeks before eventually winding up on the same crew. The crew was headed East from Portland on interstate 90 in the middle of the night; I had been designated to drive the crew van and she demanded to ride shotgun probably scared shitless I was going to fall asleep and kill the whole crew. She didn't like me one bit. As a half dozen bozo's slept in the van we talked and talked and talked. After finding that we had ONE great interest in common that is..we were both BOWIE fans. We had both seen him live months before on his "thin white duke" tour the same night. From that day forward we talked during driving time as we worked together on the road for weeks without a day off.
I suppose we fell in love gradually.
It didn't seem that simple though going through it.
Marla made me jump through hoops playing coy one day and encouraging the next. Sometimes she told me she thought she was an ALIEN. Rather than drive me off it sort of fascinated me she felt so different from all the other idiots walking the streets.
Obviously in retrospect we're BOTH aliens. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I made the trip up to Kent Washington to meet her family..a cross between the Brady's and Erasurehead's inlaws. I barely passed muster. Her old man had one eyebrow cocked like the ROCK'S for the entire 6 hour evening.
I haven't always been a perfect husband I suppose..but I've been A DAMN GOOD ONE in one respect. I've always been supportive of the fact that she doesn't want to sit around doing house wife stuff all the time. I'm PROUD she plays guitar and repairs lawn mowers and could kick ass on female Billy Joel fans..even when pregnant. Whether you love her guitar playing or hate it..she sure as hell didn't learn it from me or any other man. THAT'S something I'm proud of; I guess alot of guys would be jealous or pissed off. Back when she first bought an amp and an electric guitar it just meant that I had to go out and get a drum kit and catch up with her skills so we could play together. I never taught her how to repair a damn lawn mower or microwave oven or sewing machine or what have you; I can barely put a battery in our damn TV remote. I don't feel less of a man that she has all the mechanical know-how; why should I?? I have 22 chess trophies over the fireplace..and she can't play worth a damn. We all have knacks for different things. If I can give one bit of advice to young married confused people out there..it's WISE THE FUCK UP!! DON'T EVER try to hold each other down out of "fear" or jealousy.
I influenced Marla in ways I don't have time or the desire to go into. I don't want to make it sound like I brought nothing to the damn table though. She got to stand as a spectator and watch me play the U.S. chess champion in a sanctioned chess tournament early in the marriage; That's like watching hubbie golf with Tiger Woods or play tennis with Bjorn Borg or whatever peckerwood is playing tennis right now. So she KNEW that even though I have my faults I also have always shown signs of possibilities. I'm a weird S.O.B. though..and I always have been. And she's had to put up with all that and tolerate some bizarre ideas and periods of depression and other delightful times.
I've bitched and pissed and moaned and thrown temper tantrums over the last 25 years..and she's bitched and pissed and moaned about silly crap herself. But guess what?? Thats not a reason to divorce; that's to be expected. TALK IT ALL OUT. It takes hours and hours sometimes..but thats what it takes. Unfortunately though a huge percentage of people split the sheets these days over silly shit.
Well, that's THEIR tough crap. We've lasted 25 years. Maybe I'll get the boot on Christmas morning..but we've lasted THIS long.
Oh yeah..one more thing...one more bit of sage advice: SEPERATE VACATIONS become MANDATORY at some point. At least every few years. you've gotta rest up from one another.
I always expected we'd have a big 25th anniversary celebration in a damn rented ballroom or something. It's gonna be pretty modest instead..Elvis is gonna cook us some sort of hunk of meat from a WWF cookbook recipe.
Maybe it's all for the best. I was PISSED OFF for a long time we never had a proper Rancid Vat 20th anniversary gig; still am to an extent. But I realized eventually that the 25th anniversary show plans become that much more important by default.
Well, here's a lonestar/Beam shot to my spouse of 25 damn years.
SMMOCCHHHHHH!!!!!!! I promise not to fart in bed for a MONTH! (at least not with my butt pointed at you).
8/01/02
YEEHAW. Even though I've appeared on scores of records and CD'S it's still uplifting to see certain ones see the light of day. Today Elvis drove me to the post office where we picked up our copies of the brand spanking new RANCID VAT CD "the CHEESESTEAK YEARS" just issued by Steel cage records www.steelcagerecords.com...thanks Larry and Leslie..a BIG tip of the fifth.
These are the same damn folks who bring you CARBON14 and who published my book. On the cover is a distinctive looking cheesesteak fresh off the grill at one of the tourist cheesesteak shops you see on TV's cooking channel all the time. The disc is loaded with 16 tracks featuring 5 new songs and selections from our recordings over the damn years including some hard to find ones ("tattoo boogie" for instance..and "blobs have more fun").
I just emailed Cosmo some happy remarks about the CD; I hope it brings a smile to his sweet lips.
Whereas many a band (even some great ones) rest on their laurel's we're plunging ahead. We have a studio recording date set for 9/11 here in Texas.
In all my misery last night I asked Marla to go to the store to get me some damn beer. She said "you already have beer!" in an unsympathetic manner. She then went to the frig just like a TV Mom or somebody else's Mom (mine?) and counted one by one claiming I had 16.
"SEE! I told you I'm almost out!" I bellowed.
She grunted and made a non-commital remark or two. So, even though I was bound to a crutch and seriously in pain and unable to drive...I slipped a shoe on my good foot and hobbled out to the car anyway. Hey, I reasoned if George Jones can ride his lawnmower to town for alcohol I can damn well find a way to make this car get me there.
I only had a block and a half to drive. I made it..but GODAMNIT! there was a San Marcos cop standing yakking, grinning with the clerk. I couldn't go in and risk him giving me a citation for driving without a damn shoe (I was obviously in no shape to be driving and he saw me pull up).
I waited until he left..hobbled in..and grabbed a warm 18 pack of Bud from a clydesdale display right by the door. I paid, hobbled home and got shitfaced.
Will somebody please tell Marla that even if I only drink 13 or 14 out of 16 beers..I CAN'T SLEEP with only a couple in the refrigerator. I've GOT to have some backup. What if there's a disaster the next day that closes all the stores?? HHmmm??
Meanwhile I'm sitting here waiting to fall over again and re injure myself.
7/31/02
I'm in bad, bad shape right now. When Elvis and I headed back West a few weeks ago before I even climbed in the damn car I had some minor foot injuries stemming from some nasty instances in our new home in which I mysteriously tripped over objects or rammed my foot into said object.
(You can go back to June of this diary and read my tale of woe concerning this house..REB).
It's happened so often that I couldn't help but personally chalk it up to the mysterious curse that this new house seems to be playing out on me. You can ask our hosts the Kenney's and Mueller's and they'd tell you I didn't talk too much about my foot injuries; I'm NOT looking for sympathy and I'm NOT being a hypochondriac (in this instance). Unfortunately the drive was 4,000+ miles on this trip and I had to do most of it with one shoe off to enable me to drive with my bad foot. This created a new injured spot on the bottom of my foot. By the time I got home I was limping heavily...but I figured in a few days the injury would go away if I prevented myself from re-injuring it.
Whereas this house seems to make Marla and Elvis's lives complete their joy is so bubbly and all..I've felt of course for many weeks that this house is possibly going to finish ME off.
While trying to "rest" my injured foot I've suffered another bad injury (stubbing it into an inanimate object) which fucked up my ankle; then each of the last two nights (early mornings actually) I've taken huge falls that have set my recovery back. Either fall could have broken the leg or back of someone else; luckily I've watched so much wrestling over the years my instincts took over in both cases and I landed flat on my fat ass rather than stagger around and wind up clocking my head on a sharp furniture corner).
Last nights fall like most of the other accidents left me howling like Ralph Cramden..throwing shit around and cussing this goddamned house in which I've seen so much misery already. More misery than 5 years in any other house I've lived in.
Then, I lay tossing and turning in agony for several hours like I have each of the previous few mornings trying to get to sleep. This house is so fucked up..there's a ray of light..a THIN ray of light that always glares in through a curtain to shine directly into my eyes; the odds must be 200 -1 against that ray of light lining up just so.
I'm writing this today NOT FOR SYMPATHY. I'd also like to point out that I'm not kidding..this is a true story..I SWEAR ON BEER. I have to make a few things clear to the world "just in case".
First off, I'm GLAD that it's me and not Marla and Elvis who may not survive this house. This should be obvious...but considering how many people are shitty lukewarm parents/spouses I guess I need to make that a public pronouncement. If I saw all this happening to one of them I'd REALLY feel helpless.
IMPORTANT: even though since I was a tender young 9 year old or so I've have occasional suicidal impulses..this ISN'T one of those times. I WANT to live and thrive in this goddamned house..it just doesn't seem to be working out that way.
I've thought things over completely..and I feel like at this point in my life I'm ready to go if that's where all this is leading. I've had premonitions of my death over the last week or so; I don't WANT to go..but I'm glad if I do go I just got to solve the mystery of my birth relatives..as well as visit lots of friends and my adopted Mother and Marla's Granny. I couldn't ask for a nicer final public appearance than my reading at Axis records if that's what's in the cards. The last Rancid Vat show in San Antonio ranked high for me too.
While in Oakland I officially purchased "whiskeyrebel.com" as a domain name. I have two completed books on my zip disc. If "something happens" to me I want Marla to convert it into a literary graveyard for me unless they appear in print within a year or so.
I request that Marla wait until I'm either in the ground or converted to ashes (what ever's cheapest..I don't give a damn) before she notify my Mother in Eugene. Why?? so that she doesn't try to horn in and create a Christian funeral ceremony. I can just SEE that; they'd get my cousin Ralph the "youth for Christ" leader to preach a sermon over my outstretched bloated corpse (groomed to look the way she wishes I'd groom myself..decorated in a hoaky suit I'd never wear in a million years). He'll try to say a good word or two about me being a longterm Husband and a decent Father..and then rip into me for my sinful ways. That's what he did for my Uncle Laverne the black sheep of the family whom I replaced.
What friends I do have are so scattered across the US it'd be pointless to try to have a funeral, really. Let whomever gives a damn have a few DRINKS in my name..that's what I'd want to do for them.
I request that Jeff Clayton whom I've set up with at many a record show help Marla price my records before she attempts to cash in on them. There's money to be made..to cover my disposal and then some (..cut Jeff in for 20% Marla!). She doesn't have a clue which records are worth real money though.
I designate only one enemy that I want my most loyal friends to fuck with in the event of my demise at the hands of this house. The dirty manipulative cunt in Philly who did her best to blackball Rancid Vat from being booked. Everybody I know in Philly knows who she is. She's typical of the schmoozing scenester assholes we've had to deal with for over 20 years. It's time to put her out of business as a booker. I should have taken time to undertake this matter myself. Obviously she didn't finish the job and squash US out..but she's held down some other good young ballsy bands whom she is convinced might break a $10 chair.
It's important for me to point out that none of my view points about life-death-afterlife..or "Bonanza" vs. the "Big Valley" or my opinions about alcohol or drugs or smut or politics or human nature or what have you: NONE of my opinions are effected by my contemplating my possible premature demise.
As I sit here I'm lifting two middle fingers to the heavens to reject anyone's hopes or fears that I'm going to undergo a deathbed conversion. FUCK religion. FUCK the cosmic unknown.
I only regret I didn't drink EVEN MORE in my time alloted.
I had to get those things off my chest. It's possible I'm not going to die or go even further overboard sanity wise..and that I'll wind up living happily in this house. So, any "enemies" of mine who are starting to celebrate better wait until I'm finished off for good. I'll keep fighting it..because I'm not ANXIOUS to go at this time..even though if my time is up..well..OK.
7/29/02
Elvis and I visited my Mother (adoptive) when we were back West over the last couple weeks. A few words about her are in order. If you own our old "Traitor baitor" magazine you can read a rant I wrote about her where I dissect her accurately and effectively. To paraphrase she doesn't approve of a single damned I've done with my life; she hates how I look, how I live, the things I love (the bottle for instance) etc. Her and her Sisters and other relatives attend the same dour faced little church which is dedicated towards villafying people like me. I've been reduced to a Sunday school lesson they preach to their kids..a sort of ultimate bad Son who has messed up his life beyond repair.
I have to acknowledge that it's her opinion of me and my ways that has to a great degree inspired me to be somebody who has looked for ways to strike back at my Mother's sort of people for my entire adult life. In other words, alot of the records and CD's and magazine columns and other vengeful creations I've had a hand in. THANKS MOM!! I almost "cut her off" socially once in the 90's..but since she is now almost 80 she's mellowed quite a bit and is almost a piece of cake to deal with now compared to the first 95% of my life. We visited her and actually had fun.
It occurred to me that some people who've read what I have to say in the past about her may be disappointed in me for not keeping my fangs and claws out when visiting her. "the Whiskey Rebel's gone soft!" a few could be thinking.
I say BALLS to that.
I only have so much energy and so many braincells left and so much time in my life. All I've ever wanted out of the old girl is simply a nuetral reaction when I enter the room. I DON'T want to be preached at..and I DON'T want her to invite any of her judgemental religious kook relatives over when I'm visiting. If she wants to sneer at the shirt I'm wearing..OK. Go ahead..but don't DWELL on it Mom. If she's on her best behavior and is easy to get along with then I'll be damned if I'm going to manufacture anger towards her.
I'd rather focus my hatred towards NEWER TARGETS. Believe me..there are PLENTY to choose from.
There are some folks who get bored reading this when things are going relatively well for me. I UNDERSTAND..but I'm not going to cook up artificial angry pieces to please anybody just to make this more exciting. Don't worry! My life is cursed for the most part. My LUCK is awful. If it weren't for the fact that I'm stubborn as hell and that I managed to hook up with a similar stubborn Woman..I'd have been dead long ago probably. We discovered long ago that unlike most couples who are "in love" in a cliche Hollywood way..we're blissfully united in our HATRED for the same people places and ideas. It's NOT just an act or a schtick we use on stage or a phase we're going through.
We don't go out LOOKING for people to hate; we stay home alot. When magazines or radio stations or TV shows annoy us we IGNORE them. When relatives refuse to deal with us respectfully we IGNORE them too. They get cut off..for at least long enough to make them think about their behavior.
If I've buried the hatchet with Mom..it means I can re-channel my disgust
towards another worthy target. I GUAR-ANDAMN-TEE you one will be coming
along damn soon.
7/28/02
I'm totally bewildered since getting home from out West. I'm having a hard time putting everything into perspective. I'm a bit fucked up in the head..in a different way than usual. What does it all mean?? HELL IF I KNOW. How should I proceed with the rest of my life in the light of it all?? FUCK I DUNNO..pass me another LONE STAR.
My visit to Eugene is still haunting me. The more I think about what people are like there the more I think it's the most disturbing place I've ever visited in the US. It shook Elvis up too. I can't get the vision of women in peasant dresses and earth shoes with little snotty brats occupying every 3rd seat at a ball game. I can't get over the sight of grown men (also sporting earth shoes) chatting with one another over psuedo-intellectual micro-brews..barely aware of the stellar two-hit ball game that was unfolding. After the game driving the streets Elvis entertained me by reading aloud the names of businesses we passed; most of them were named along the lines of some sort of eco-concerned theme or sunny optimistic theme. If I believed in a deity I'd fall to my knees and pray thanks that circumstances allowed me to escape Eugen..the town I grew up in from ages 1-11.
Elvis and I experienced Flagstaff Arizona coming home. It's a pretty fucked up place too...but at least there's some decent SCENERY to look at. It's up in the mountains as opposed to the hotter cities in Arizona at lower elevations. As we drove around the city we kept track of all the sunburnt burn-out greasy-haired red eyed shifty looking predatory dudes walking the streets. Flagstaff must be a bigassed crank usin' city. Everyone of the losers we saw swiveled their heads to stare back at us with a hostile "who you looking at?" deranged gleem in their eyes.
We soon figured out that there's a college in Flagstaff.
I'd rather live amongst the priveleged upper middle class kids who go to school here in San Marcos ANYDAY than be around a town loaded with sour faced predatory drug burnouts. I hate dealing with sweaty faced assholes trying to scam me more than almost any demographic group I can think of.
Er,..that is I'd STILL rather take my chances in Flagstaff than Eugene though.
Incidentally, the homeless losers you see in the Southwest between San Antonio and L.A. seem to mostly be guys my age and race. I used to criticize black homeless leeches all the time back in Philly; I don't like 'em any damn better when they're WHITE like me.
More travel notes: DID YOU KNOW?? there really is a city named "Truth or consequences" New Mexico"? (Cactus Jack's "home town"). We didn't get to drive through it. It's pretty close to Roswell by the way. We drove home via I-40 which follows the old path of ROUTE 66. We made a detour onto a remaining section of route 66 that exists between Kingman Arizona and Williams. We passed by alot of ancient ruins of drive-in eateries, last chance filling stations, Mom and Pop general stores and tourist traps with elaborate and cheesey handpainted wooden signs. It was the tourist highlight of our trip. I LOVE looking at old stuff along highways. I'll make a great senior citizen some day if I live long enough. I could drive around for weeks and even months pushing my auto from one town to another sleeping in motels.
Travel toilet notes: WOW! The most daring shit I've taken in months!! Mark took Elvis and I on a car tour of L.A.; we ate at a joint with a lovely clean stall..perfectly tended..SPOTLESS..a little soft music in the background. I tried to take my mandatory post-meal grunt there..but my bod just wasn't ready to dump a load. I squirted out a couple little rock like doo dad's the approximate size and shape of Kentuckey Fried Chicken's "popcorn chicken". An hour later we were strolling Venice beach when it HIT ME. It was time to find a damn toilet..or a bush. I discovered to my chagrin a gaseous turmoil in my nether region that I couldn't just squeeze back. it was simply TOO POWERFUL. The only toilet within reach was the public facility that doubles as a changing room. Elvis had pee'd in it earlier.
"El"..I asked hopefully..how clean was that shithouse when you pee'd in it"??
He got a serious look on his face. He KNEW why I was asking. Few son's want to watch their Pappy's humiliate themselves by shitting their pants.
"Uhh..it's NOT very clean..and there's no doors on the stalls at all"..he shook his head.
"SHIT!!" I swore. I shook my head and made haste anyway for the open air public shithouse. Would I encounter the crips that Mark told us use to congregate at the beach?? Will the gods have left me any ass wipe..or towels?? How about a "seat protector" to clean up with?? Or would I be forced to tear my T-shirt into strips to wipe my ass with?? What if I encountered only shitters heaped over??
At times like that a man first needs to get off the fucking Street. If I have to bend over and shit on the wall or in a sink in the shithouse I may cause a stir and make one HELL of a mess..but at least I won't fill my pants or get arrested or shame myself in front of a good pal and my Son. The toilets were arranged army style..no stalls at all. I found some tissue by a stool that had a mountain of clogged fecal matter and paper and cigarette butts probably a couple weeks old. I took it to a corner toilet that wasn't TOO filthy. I cleaned it as best as I could. There was water on the floor..perhaps sea water?? or pee??
No time to deliberate..the shit was ready to start FLYING...on the verge of taking on a life of it's own. I dropped my drawers and lowered part of my fat buns onto the seat..PTTTTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! BBBRRRAAPPPP!!!!
The only other dude in the place was a Vietnamese kid who seemed absorbed with cleaning up another stool area. He didn't seem to react or flinch at the sound of my anal attack.
A couple hot rushes of foul diareah powered through. Yep I thought..there would've been NO WAY to hold that back. So what if a few muscle beach guys walk in and watch me do what I do best. I sprayed and whooshed my poop as quickly as I could. I mean, COME ON?? This wasn't a lazy book reading sort of bowel movement.
It was over with quickly..and happily there was even water and soap from a dispenser. I'm the WHISKEY REBEL..not G.G. Allin.
I walked out of the shithouse and walked toward Mark and Elvis. They were pretending to not be amused with my desperate situation. What the hell..Mark wound up telling us some great lactose-intolerant shit-fit stories as we continued our drive.
One more thing..a mere mile from his home I had to leave another similar load at a Taco Bell baffroom.
Mark said "Well..better HERE than back at our place"...
AMEN Mark.
7/26/02
Elvis and I made it home from the West coast a few hours ago. And so, Marla's vacation ( from us) is brought to a screeching halt. She made quite a few improvements around our new house while we were gone including mounting over my computer work station a CD player/radio that the bitch we bought the house from left behind. It took a mere 2 minutes to tune in my favorite talk radio show (Phil Hendry). I couldn't get it at all in our apartment. Living on high ground kicks ass for the 2nd time lately (the first time was during the floods a couple weeks ago).
I should probably be writing here about how blown away I still am over meeting so many blood relatives back in Snoregon for the first time. Instead I'll call up a few friends and yakk about it over the next few days. I can't reveal names and details about the situation out of respect to them. I promised them I wouldn't write a TV movie..but the whole story would make a good one. Lots of twists and turns.
We did alot of other shit out West that I don't have to beat around the bush about. My "reading" at Axis records in Alameda last Sunday was loads of fun. Lots of drinking took place and Hammerlock played an accoustic set. I got to croon a few songs with them. I preached about the suckass moptop Beatles and misguided 70's Stoner "nostalgia". The afternoon before we invaded a bar in S.F. along with "Fracas" (a band featuring the owner of Axis records). I squeezed in two opinionated bits while Hammerlock set up..one about a dead junkie I knew. Something seemed to really upset somebody in the back who kept yelling "shut up". None of us could tell who it was; the individual was so chickenshit that he must've been hiding behind a chair or table.
I admire a heckler with BALLS who stands in front of the stage and expresses his/her opinion. I once blew a huge wad of M&M candy spit in a singers face. I also am proud to have cleared a dancefloor of fans by heckling a now deceased new wave goon and his band.
I used to heckle and argue with street preachers on a daily basis long ago. When I did I never ducked behind trees or chairs..that's for CHICKENSHIT PUSSIES. I stood up like a man and looked the preachers and their assistants in the eye. I respected the ones who actually tried to answer my questions about biblical loopholes one helluva lot more than little cunts who'd yell some cheap shot from 50 feet away at the bible thumpers and then run or briskly walk away.
I drank so many whiskey shots at that show that classy people bought me that my whiskey/beer ratio was set out of whack. I need to drink about two beers per shot or else I tend to get sleepy..especially on an empty stomach. The show only lasted a few hours and I was busy (I crooned a few songs again with Hammerlock). I arrived back at the Kenney residence and jammed a frozen burrito into my gaping maw. Even though it was only 9:00 or so I felt immediately ready for an "hour nap". I woke up to a quiet house at 2:55 am. Whoops. I rolled over and slept until 11:00 am.
I didn't drink all THAT much..but I NEED beer chaser for whiskey beyond 5 or 6 shots consumed quickly...and I exceeded that level by a good deal. I'm a finely tuned machine..and it's no wonder I went nighty night early. The next day I stuck to beer and happily sucked down an ocean of Coors as usual.
I had a good bellylaugh when Travis showed me a defaced poster which featured a picture of me pouring Coors down my throat with the can elevated a dashing foot or so over my wide open mouth. Some genius lefty concerned type (at least I THINK it was a leftie..this was San Francisco) wrote an idiotic line over the top of the poster claiming that "society" was USING THEE WHISKEY REBEL to "control" "us"..whomever "US" is supposed to be. It's always a hoot when some immature halfbaked anarchy type tries to claim to be part of "us" or one of "the PEOPLE" using comic book commie jargon. Where could I possibly fit into a propaganda campaign initiated by "society" as perceived by the delusional poster defacer?? Probably a delusional dumbfuck high on the deep wisdom found in the pages of Maximum R'N'R. I saved the poster and plan to hang it up on the wall here.
07/18/02
We're back in San Francisco after our trip North to meet my blood relatives. It was really nerve wracking facing up to it; there wasn't any RATIONAL reason to be terrified since I had talked on the phone to several blood kin..but that didn't prevent me from being terrified and threatening half seriously to Elvis several times as we approached Grants Pass that I couldn't go through with it. It was his job to come along and make sure I didn't pussy out. The first blood relative I've ever seen in my life was my Uncle climbing up out of a car at the meeting site to greet me. He's a trucker..and is built as strong as a gorilla. Terrific guy. He was driven there by another Uncle who married my Mother's Sister (one of 'em). We followed them to Uncle #1's property up in the mountains where a BBQ meet and greet was just starting up. Within an hour I had met my two Aunts, a couple cousins, several of their kids and my maternal Grandmother who hails from Kentuckey and is tough as nails. Soon I was drinking beer along with mu Uncles. I had HOPED they would be beer drinkers but was willing to accept them if they were sober Jehovah's witnesses. I lucked out. My Aunts weren't wet blankets..they were genuinely fun to talk to even when my Uncles were engaging in vivid fart jokes. I felt like I was amongst friends rather than relatives..since up to that day I had never met a relative I could let my hair down with.
The next day included a tour of a cemetary filled 30% or so with relatives dating back over a century. After a meal at the other Aunt and Uncles pad we were just settling in for the evening when the phone rang. It was my FATHERS Sister wanting to check me out. Since he had seemed to have a change of heart after initially accepting me I was leery of talking to her. She came over and explained some additional circumstances that explained why she felt free to meet me and accept me whereas he was under pressure from a 3rd party not to. She yanked out a cell phone after a while and called one of my several half Sisters! I had no clue dear old Dad had told any of them I existed. He had..and this one was determined to meet me even if he couldn't or wouldn't. She came over with her hubbie and my Aunt and I went over all the details of this crazy story once again. My Uncle sat in a chair for hours watching this..as if it were some crazy soap opera being acted out live. Lucky for my Sister she (along with 3 other half Sisters and two half Brothers) doesn't look like me. All my Sisters look pretty hot actually...OOPS! DAMN! I'm not supposed to say that about Sisters, am I?? sorry. I'm not used to all this yet.
The end of the night provided an eerie moment that could go down in the annuls of adoption hall of fame stories. After being gazed at like livestock for two full days by nice people looking for "physical resemblances" I finally leaned over a table to jot out my address to my newest Aunt and Sister on my Fathers side. One of them said "oh! you're lefthanded?? So is Dad!". "I'm actually ambidextrous" I pointed out..."so is he!" they said a bit more excited. "I had to learn to write with my right hand due to my bursitus" I continued. They both squeeled. The old man had a track record of bursitus in the same arm. "I got this Q-ray a while back..it took away the pain". LOUD squeeling from the gals followed. He wears a Q-ray too. It was a good way to wrap up two huge days.
It was then on to Eugene Oregon the next morning to meet MOTHER..the one who raised me. She was on her best behavior and we got along good. Elvis and I went to a AA ball game..the Eugene Emeralds. GODDAMN I've decided that I hate Eugene (which is where I spent years 1-11 in followed by 10 horrid college months later) perhaps even more than Seattle or even Portland. The people are fucking RETARDED in ways they do not comprehend. Folks from the other two aforementioned cities at least get the basic drift of what sort of city they live in..but not these worthless and perpetually dopey Eugener's. The stands were 3/4's full of dopey earth shoe and peasant dress clad hippies old and young. Male Eugeners have big doofus mustaches and wear sweaty, greasy caps boasting the name of local businesses. Not a single damn one of the people at the stadium appear to understand that they live in a putrid hippie haven second in leftwing excess only to Berkely on the West coast. Eugener's are TERRIFIED of the outside world..and they'd be more likely to swim the Willamette bare naked at high noon than to venture away from their rainy boring hell on earth more than 2 or 3 times in their eventless lifetimes. Eugene is like Minnesota in slow motion!!
Few "fans" appeared to be baseball junkies..much less to understand
what the hell was even happening. Their pitcher twirled a one hitter through
7 innings..but the crowd seemed always on the verge of chanting
"B-O-R-I-N-G". Not a SINGLE Padre's T-shirt was to be seen (the
teams parent club) nor one single major league baseball item of apparel.
The Eugener weiner's treated the game like some sort of "exhibition"
that provided an opportunity to get out of the house. The smartest guy in
the park was a fellow who slept through the whole mess way up in the back
of the bleachers. Lucky him; we were forced to endure a quartet of chanting
screaming toddlers 10 feet from us from the 6th inning on. Even worse were
the gaggle of stoners 20 feet away who kept yelping "OWWWW!" as
if they were at a club watching some of Eugene's bad bands. FUCKHEADS. I
feel like I'm the luckiest man on earth..because I GOT OUT of Eugene before
being sucked into it's vortex of change jingling-sweaty-mustache-healthfood
sprout-breath-Birkenstock amiability. Elvis hated it as much as I did
if not even more; he apologized for assuming in the past I was exaggerating
when telling him about Eugener-weiners.
7/12/02 The Whiskey Rebel and Elvis Rotten living it up at the Hammerlock
Haven in San Francisco.
7/10 Greetings from lovely Glendale California. Elvis and I pulled into town not long ago and have just taken the tour of our hosts (old friendsMarc & Allison)home. It's cooler than most museums I've been to. I'll probably get into our stay here in a future entry. Right now I'm inspired by earlier aspects of our trip. We left San Marcos in the middle of the damned night and drove from 1:00 am or so until we got to El Paso at 10:30 am Mountain time. I've never been to El paso..thought it'd be a dirty old town..kinda sleepy. Somehow 1/2 million people have wound up living there; it's a blend of 80% or so brand new strip malls and fastfood joints and maybe 20% decayed slums and old city center buildings. The city is layed out around several mountain peaks which reminded me of CHARLESTON WEST VIRGINA..another city sprawled out around several tall mountains. I had tospruce up upon arriving dead tired from the drive so as to convince the desk clerk at our motel to allow us to check in early. We were tired as shit. I was sporting a COCKNOOSE T-shirt..which I covered up by zipping my vest. I tied my hair back into a ponytail and replaced my sunglasses with my "intellectual" black frames. Hells bells..they didn't HAVE to let us check in until 1:00 which would fucking SUCK. Waiting in line at the desk Elvis and I both noticed all sorts of obvious signs that it was a Christian owned motel. I made a mental note to keep my huge red Satan tattoo turned towards my body. I have a stock answer when squares I'm concerned enough about to not want to offend ask about that one..I tell them it's "Dracula"..which makes it seem more innocent..eh?? I was able to charm the lady into letting us check in pronto. While waiting Elvis picked up a local pamphlet from a company that does local tours across the river to Juarez. A lady bustled out of the back office to see if she could help us plan our trip into Mexico (she must be paid a commission). I turned to her and said in a manner which I didn't intend to be rude "we're staying right here in the US". She seemed very offended and turned and skulked off. DAMN. Elvis and I are very paranoid about crossing borders looking like we do after our half hour near strip search at the Canadian border last Summer.
That was the SECOND individual I had offended that day. The 1st was a guy traveling on West I-10 that happened into a shithouse at a rest stop that I got to minutes before HE did. He was a goofy looking guy who hobbled overlike a birdnecked-George Washington with a little pussy yuppie inch long ponytail. I had been incensed with the condition of the rest area shithouses.. and made sure to leave a payback mess in the final stall left standing (I had to transfer butt wipe from a different stall or I wouldn't have been able to shit at all). Anyway, mister birdneck wandered in to take his chances in the stall I fouled just as I left. When we stopped a half hour later to get gas we were surprised to see birdneck hobble his scrawnycarcass into the shithouse of the gas station. I had already sought comfort therein; it was even worse than what I had left behind at the rest area. We saw him amble in..probably desperate by now..and he trundled back out in about 30 seconds!!!! A half hour down the road we saw him zoom by us doing about 90 mph..presumably looking for an elusive West Texas CLEAN toilet. It was then I noticed his California designer license plate...RANCID VAT JUSTICE!!!
Tucson last night we stayed in an ancient motel built a helluva long time ago. It was a cheap rate..and I like charming old motels with huge neon signs..it was called the FLAMINGO. There were movie posters every foot or so on the premises..incredible. We watched the allstar game and got as pissed as anybody attending when that big pussy Bud Selig announced a tie ballgame. It had been a "get drunk early" situation..and we were up to the task. I enjoyed tossing Bush bottles and Bud cans and paper cups I filled and drained of Jim Beam all about the room. It was my first trip to Arizona...and it was impressive I guess. I love mountains and cactus's and piles of ancient rocks. The heat isn't anything that's gonna scare a Texan. Urp.
By now I've attempted to shit at 10 reststops, truck-travel centers and gas stations spread over 4 States..and they've ALL been a damned mess. One in Arizona had TWO stalls. The handicapped stall was awash with shit-diareah-piss water and wads of buttwipe on the floor around the stool; which was heaped OVER the seat line with a huge bowel movement. I recoiled and headed for the other stall...which was in typical "2 minute cleanup" condition. WHile I squatted a barefoot wigger led a barefoot baby into the shitsmeared stall. He tried to get the baby to stand on the seat and shit..which evidently failed. I can't believe people are so stupid about what kind of shit mess water they're walking around in with bare fucking feet. Even GG would've slipped his boots on I bet.
Well, time to head out to visit a liquor store in one of the best (if not THEE best) liquor law States in the Union. Tommorow: Hollywood..and facing up to the sad memories of having to leave this city in 1987. It's my first trip back and I have alot of explaining to do to Elvis why he had to be moved to fucking worthless Portland instead of staying here. Urp.
7/3
The internet wrestling geeks are all lambasting Chris Jericho for his latest and possibly "last" commentray on his web site. CJ ordinarily represents himself in a humble "god bless you guys" sort of manner; until THIS commentary that is. He's finally fed up with the same snot-nosed little shits I've been criticizing in this diary for a long time. My main problem with them is their pretentiousness in rating matches with "stars" (four star, two star, etc.) thereby touting their qualifications as "experts" without stating their qualifications or the training level they've achieved in the sport. I picture internet wrestling nerds as a whole to be a bunch of wannabe-wrestler nerds who are hoping that their comments on the very manly and macho world of professional wrestling can somehow cause some of the greatness of the wrestlers to rub off on them.
It's amazing how much they resemble ROCK MUSIC critics in that way, isn't it?? It's also amazing how they resemble rock music critic's time honored penchant for never finding fault in their handpicked "favorites" whose asses they're kissing this week. Yunno..wrestler "A" talks to him for 2 minutes in a parking lot and treats him nicely; THEREFORE the guys match earlier that night was 5 STARS!!!!!
That's a thumbnail sketch of how records are reviewed from coast to coast in most music magazines and ALL local free weeklies.
Yet ANOTHER rock and roll/wrestling "connection", eh??
As far as my commenting on wrestling I've qualified my opinions more than once in commercial publications. I feel that ALL members of the wrestling Brotherhood/Sisterhood are worthy of respect (..alright! if you wanna get PICKY I have made one or two exceptions). I'm the first to admit that I miss all sorts of shit that goes on at a wrestling show I may attend..and that I'm a naive "mark" like anybody else when it comes to televised wrestling.
If you want to state your OPINION on whether you enjoyed a night of wrestling matches or the direction of the promotion or the a wrestler's charachter, well MORE POWER TO YOU.
However, when some self appointed internet "wrestling authority" nerd casually and PUBLICLY claims a wrestler "blew some spots" in a match (commited technical errors) he's CROSSING THE LINE in an idiotic way.
It reminds me of a passage from a Bukowski story in which a disheveled old horsetrack scumbag yells at Willie Shoemaker who had just finished out of the money in a race (one of the most illustrious jockey's of all time) "ah you're a bum!! you're NO GOOD!!".
It reminds me of lardass couch potatoe football fans from sea to shining sea bellowing at their favorite NFL teams quarterback after he tossed an interception.."you can't throw!!" as if those LARDASSES COULD.
I read a few "editorials" on the net in which geeks claimed that rating matches with "stars" is a consumer oriented measure since wrestling is an industry that people shell out a lot of money on.
I saw POPPYFUCKINGCOCK! What makes you think anybody should give a shit what you think?? I sure as hell don't need consumer advice from an unprofessional untrained "know-it-all". Wrestling is to a large degree an "art-form". A best two out of three falls match that alot of folks think is match of the year BORES alot of other fans (that goes for me and Guerrero-Benoit at ECW arean). Hogan's wild crowd reception at the Canadian PPV earlier this year DISGUSTED a lot of people I know.
When I yakk with my buddies about wrestling and what I think about this charachter or that I NEVER take into account which way the crowd at the arena is leaning. For instance, William Regal is TOP NOTCH but receives little recognition from "casual" fans who are in the majority in any arena.
Likewise when I yakk with my music oriented friends the fucking LAST thing we worry about when discussing the merits of a band or singer is how successful in terms of appealing to the MASSES the act is.
If I had to list my 50 favorite albums of all time I bet the list would include 40 that were commercial FLOPS. Likewise alot of my favorite wrestlers of all time are all but forgotten today. What the hell...not just some..MANY of the most revered composers, artists, writers, etc. of all time weren't fully appreciated until years after their DEATHS. Alot of great things happen in wrestling rings year round besides modern day fan favorites spouting their catch phrases. A lot of wrestlers who fucking RULE don't even HAVE catch phrases. When you self appointed pin pricks realize this and start learning how to critically analyze the sport of wrestling in a unique and entertaining frame of reference..THEN..you'll be almost believable as an internet authority. I bet if you trained and learned to appreciate whats happening in the ring as well as some qualified and trained pro friends of mine (Rev. Axl..God Toss..Cosmo) you'd sing a different tune when it comes to Jericho's criticism of net Smarks. That's what you need to do; sit at the feet of some trained experts like I have and keep your mouth shut and your pink little ears open.
By the way..Lance Storm hit the nail on the fucking HEAD in his own commentary defending Chris. He summed it up better than I ever could by pointing out the smarks have simply become fans of READING about Wrestling rather than WATCHING it.
I've ripped into musc critics many times for their lack of qualifications and self serving slime coated opinons. I'd take another swipe at them, but I'm too busy getting ready to head out West to 1) eat some of Liza Kinney's cooking 2) meet my blood relatives in Southern Oregon for the first time and 3) make some entertaining public appearances. September 20th and 21st the SF bay area is in for a major Whiskey Rebel quake. Check our front page for deatils and book your flight NOW to get there.
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