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archives 10/31/02 to 9/03/02

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10/31/02

It's THAT day again..and I'm sitting here about 16 beers and 5 shots of Rebel Yell into a damn good drunk. My mind has turned on this important day to a great, late man whose very name scares the shit out of alot of you whom he SHOULD scare the shit out of. Happily the world is also populated by a smattering of folks who appreciate what he said and wrote, what he did and why we should remember him.

I refer to none other than the "black pope"..Anton Lavey.

I don't consider myself a "Satanist"..yet I know that a lot of people that read this have been so conditioned to flipout whenever Anton Lavey's name is mentioned that I'll never convince them that I'm just a fence sitting agnostic who enjoy's the pure wisdom and style of ol' uncle Anton. I don't really fucking care. I grew up being forced to endure several times per week one of the wackiest Christian churches imaginable. I was considered by some kids at school a "Christian" due to the fact that I wasn't allowed (I had no CHOICE of course) to participate in worldy school dances and trips to movie theatres that the rest of the students (with the exception of a few Jehovah's witness kids) got to enjoy. I HATED being considered a "Christian" even though I never once was actually sucked into their bullshit ways. I don't mind being mistaken for a Satanist..just like I don't mind being mistaken occasionally for a biker or a pro-wrestler. I ADMIRE bikers..I consider pro-wrestling the greatest thing you can do with your life..and I admire many Satanists.

I've decided as a tribute to Mr. Lavey to share a few of my favorite quotations from "the Devil's Notebook" (a Feral house book...go BUY IT) with you. The following are all words of wisdom of the late Anton Lavey:

"The true test of anyone's worth as a living creature is how much he can utilize what he has"...

"Definition of good and evil: Good is what you like. Evil id what you don't like"..

"Self improvement books: those who need them won't read them or heed them"..

(HERE'S one of my absolute favorites:)

"Don't help someone who has proven himself a consistent failure in the past"

(this next one explains the 25+ year marriage of Marla and I:)

"When you are quarreling with someone who is dear to you, transfer your mutual wrath to someone you dislike, and you will be surprised at the results"..

"what good are friends if they can't do you any good?"

(and finally...)

"I never met a person who loved everybody I didn't dislike"

Now, GO OUT AND EGG A CONVENT!!!!

10/28/02

We just got home from a 50+ hour 2,000 mile drive through hellish conditions to attend the exclusive Halloween party at the Clayton home in South Carolina.

Squire Clayton assigned all his share cropper's and their families to decorate the entire Clayton plantation according to his detailed instructions. I'd write more about this blast but if it were intended for people like you to know about it you would have received an invitation..which you DIDN'T.

I've just GOTTA bitch awhile about the drive.

We were doing just fine until we entered the State of Louisiana on I-10. Over the years I've kept track of how many times on the average I've been stopped by road work construction crews on that stretch of highway. I estimate that I've run into on the average 3 delays per trip. This time we only ran into one work crew which was spread out over 12 miles. It meant a 2 hour fucking delay. 2 FUCKING HOURS!!!

This took place after we wasted a while trying to find me a reasonable place to take a crap. Now, I don't ask for the moon and the stars when it comes to a freeway shithouse. I only demand a latching door on the stall, a roll of average grade bunghole wipe, a fairly dry floor around the commode (in other words free of excessive urine puddles) and a fairly reasonable of urine on the seat to mop off. I can deal with stench..but I CAN'T handle assholes singing in adjacent stalls at the top of their lungs. I specially selected what appeared to be a brand spanking new truck stop. I entered and was delighted to notice that the counter tops were gleaming..the floors freshly mopped and the employees uniformed and courteous. THEN I walked into the shit house. There were 4 stalls..FOUR. And THREE (3) of them had seats that were coated with ample amounts of stinky piss. A few droplets I can handle..but CHRIST. If I was desperate..yeah. I would've used one...but there are hundreds of toilets..probably THOUSANDS lining the truck stops, rest areas and fastfood joints of I-10.

What's that?? What about the 4th toilet?? It had an "out of order" sign on the door. I peeked through the crack and it looked OK...perhaps the employees had hung the sign so they could have one clean stool at least free from shithouse toilet-seat-sprayers.

We had to waste time stopping down the road at another joint that luckily had a clean stool..even though I had to compromise and deal with the broken stall door lock.

Right after all that.....WHAM. We got hit with the 2 hour delay. Added on to a couple 1/2 hour gaper delays it meant we showed up in Hattiesburg at the Walt and Heather Wheat residence a few hours late. Fuck.

The next day we endured an hour of mindless traffic delay in Birmingham Alabama an Atlanta Friday rush hour and THEN (after we thought we were "home safe" and would arrive on time ) we encountered an hour and a half of sitting on our asses with the engine idling due to no apparent reason. I pounded the dashboard and cussed and got hysterical for awhile. Finally Marla asked a stuck trucker what the problem was; evidently a crane had fallen off a truck and we had to wait for it to be towed off the freeway.

I suffered most of this day with a case of strobe-light-vision that had me hugging a pillow while Marla drove through Atlanta. After busting through the accident area we were hampered by rain but eventually arrived a few hours late.

Sunday we had shithouse troubles outside of Atlanta. The mensroom stool was heaped over with huge logs of shit. I eventually had to settle for a rest area with a pee sprayed seat and slop on the floor further down the road. Since I was unable to finish the job there we stopped around Tuscaloosa where I was treated to a nice clean stall..but a MUDCAKED roll of buttwipe. That's a new one!!!! A constant attack of rain completed our 3 hours past due arrival time.

Today's problems made the rest of the journey seem like a piece of cake. For once I didn't have problems finding a place to take a dump where I could salvage a bit of self pride. Louisiana went smoothly too. Not a single road crew there.

"WOW"!! we cried...as we barreled through Beaumont Texas on time.

THEN is when the shit hit the fucking fan for us. It started raining..slowly at first. By the time we reached Houston it was raining so damn hard water was filling up the road several inches deep..and a foot or two along the offramps.

We crawled along at a slow pace. We argued about whether to stop or not..and who should ask about weather conditions. We stopped at a Texaco when it seemed like we couldn't continue any further through the heavy rain which made driving as impossible as in a blizzard. After a good deal of heated discussion Marla and Elvis voted that we continue driving blindly West (NONE of us had the sense to ask for weather info from the clerks). That turned out to be both right AND wrong. Yeah, we made it home eventually....several hours late; but we learned from a clerk at another place 12 miles down the road that a tornado was barreling towards the tiny town our truck stop was located in.

We got out of that..but that was awfully close a call.

We got home to a battlefield. A tiny opening through our chimney was recently reopened and not properly closed again through negligence. A family of a half dozen mice had penetrated our home while we were gone.

Luckily we recently added a new strapping young kitten named Dixie to join our trusty old Philly cat Mr. Jinx in patroling our home. We thought having some young blood around would fire ol' Jinxy up. It's worked out well..and I've actually come around to liking both cats. In the past they've caught a couple frail lizards and a few various bugs. This weekend they outdid themselves. Mouse corpses were lined up in our front room waiting our inspection as Jinx and Dixie licked their own and each others assholes out. There were signs of a cat scuffle in other rooms as if they had enjoyed the sport of killing this little mouse family before laying their bodies out like the dead soldiers at the train station in "Gone with the Wind". We resealed the chimney and plan on feeding these two studs a couple cans of Starkist tuna tommorow.

10/24/02

I've been reading "the Lincoln County Trilogy" by Fred N. Kimmel the last week or so. It's a really ambitious look at the "Sante fe ring" of greedy asshole merchants who Billy the Kid fought against in the late 1800's. Go re-listen to Antiseen's song about Billy and then march down to your damned library and get this book. It's one of the best I've read this year. If some of you have ever wondered why I don't hang with the Republican party (since I'm obviously no Democrat either) I loathe the defense contractor friendly Republican dickheads almost as much as I fucking hate the religious branch of their party.

As massively fucked up as the Republican party has been throughout my lifetime, it's amazing that the Democrats annoy me even MORE! That's saying something!

I shudder at the thought of the next Presidential election...which will pit party nominees G. Bush vs. either H. Clinton or once again A. Gore. How can this be?? I think the achilles heel of America is it's inability to support decent Presidential candidates.

Enough of that.

Marla and I attended Wayne Hancock's show last Saturday at the Continental club in Austin. Of course it was a great set. He's always good. While setting up a song he mentioned that he hoped to soon get a copy of the single he recorded in Australia. Being a loudmouth..and a friend of Australian Neil R. I couldn't help but shoot my mouth off loudly declaring "I have a copy"..which in retrospect made me look like a fuckface. Yes, thee Whiskey Rebel can act like an asshole at live shows..JUST LIKE YOU. You see, I keep forgetting that I'm not in an audience loaded with imbecilical punk rock fans. After the set I offered to give my copy to Chris..Wayne's guitar player. He said don't worry about it; their copies are hung up at their record label. I felt glad..I really don't want to part with my copy.

But what the hell. I remember Marla and I venturing into Big Jay McNeely's dressing one once in L.A. in the 80's to get some rare records signed. Jay's face lit up when he saw his Brother Bob pictured on the sleeves. I felt like a heel. He's just about my main influence as a live performer(no that I could ever live up to his greatness)..just as he similarly influenced Dick Dale and Jimi Hendrix. I should have given him the damn album. He probably would've taken it home and showed it to his kids or maybe Brother Bob's kids or widow.

If it happened today I'd benefit from a few more years of wisdom and get an address...tape the album (or burn a CD) and send it off to where it belongs.

People who envision a record find as a way of taking advantage of a fanatical friend...are NOT really friends to the people they set out to take advantage of. I get very moralistic about shit like this after watching record collectors feed off of each other for so many years. If you find a record that you like only a bit that would really make a friend happy..fucking GIVE it to them..or at least sell it for your cost with a modest profit. If you DON'T..I GUARANTEE you...you are a fucking JACKASS. I want NO part of you. FUCK OFF and sprout tumors.

10/20/02

WWE PAY PER VIEW report: in my opinion the soap opera hoopla and out of the ring goings on in the WWE are at a real low point..90% of it makes no sense. The "Torrie Wilson's Dad" bit is a real yawn...very slow moving too. All the far fetched hokum between HHH and Kane had nothing to do with their match. So why waste time on it?? What happened to the "Un-Americans" bit?? I blinked and it's gone without an appearance from Lance Storm at the PPV. Why not complete that story before taking up others?? Gossip about the Undertakers "ex girlfriend" wasted our time. She had nothing to do with the match whatsoever. Is Vince slipping??? I'm sure he didn't cook up all those vignettes but he sure as hell is responsible for editing them or sitting down and having a cup of coffee with whomever keeps troweling out this 3rd rate horseshit.

Several matches were really good..of course the Angle/Benoit/Edge/Mysterio tag match was frigging incredible; to critics of the WWE who claim it all sucks...SORRY folks. They do have some hellacious matches from time to time. The "hell in a cell" between 'Taker and Brock was an absolute table thumping bloodbath!! Obviously Paul E. had a lot to do with the direction they took. I mean, what are you gonna do with a matchlike that to compare with what Foley and Michaels have done?? Obviously both warriors are too damn big to go flying around..so they wisely kept the action on the ground in a corner between the ring and cage. Undertaker grabbed Heyman's tie like a gorilla at the zoo snagging somebody from between the bars. He beat him to an absolute pulp and left him whining in misery. Lesner's head was opened up early on and he bled fairly well...but Undertaker looked like his mug had been worked over with an industrial cheese grader by the time the match was over. Like I say..alot of the match was worked in an intimate corner which allowed the cameras to catch all the gore.

All I can say is..if the WWE thinks they can impress us fans who've shelled out alot of money with a "blood feast"...they're GODDAMNED RIGHT. Blood sprayed out of holes in Taker's face for 10 minutes of action. I think most of the promotions from "back in the day" that lifelong wrestling fan pals of mine like to remember would've turned to another camera away when his face began to resemble one of those lawn sprinklers that has little holes the water squirts out of in thin streams.

Bravo WWE. Still, they need Austin back. And if I have to see the same old "ref bump/sledge hammer" HHH victory one more time I'm gonna go back to ripping into Helmsley every 3rd diary entry. HEY..why not seek out RVD'S old manager Fonzy to replace "Uncle Eric" Bischoff who needs to go keep his pal Hogan company wherever he is.

10/19/02

I'm about to wade into a mess of POPEYE'S fried chicken Elvis is off picking up. This seems like a good time to remind somebody of a very basic rule of common courtesy..DON'T bother either a man or a dog when he's eating. I try as little as possible to eat in public or semi-public places. I'm disgusted at the sight of people walking around eating stuff..especially when they make eating sounds or talk with food in their mouth.

In the great cities of the North Eastern United States it's a common sight to see people walking down a busy urban street FAST while shoveling in chow from off a paper plate...or slopping down a rolled up slice of pizza like a goddamned sow. On the West coast I've seen health conscious bozo's stuffing their faces with salads while pushing baby carriages and yelling at their brats.

When I was supervisor at Tower records and had to deal with assholes with "problem" returns I rarely had a bad time keeping my temper..unless the pig I had to talk to was chomping away at some South Street food delight. I never mentioned it to anybody but my blood rapidly heated to BOILING point at the rudeness and disgustingly bad manners of these thoughtless fuckfaces.

Every now and then some Madison avenue add jerkoff produces a TV add in which some genius is shown eating a sample of food in a mall..talking with their dirty mouth half full masticating on some food product to show how "good" and "irrisistable" it tastes. I CRINGE.

When I hear people smack their lips while eating I want to slap 'em like their Momma should have years ago.

I definetly WOULDN'T walk down the street obliviously eating..I probably COULDN'T since it goes against my nature..but since I've never tried it I can't say for sure if I could with a gun pointed at my head.

Breathmints...GREAT. Lifesavers and candy..OK. Popcorn..sure..no problem. Gum..well..keep it quiet. Some people can't chew gum without people hearing their gums and mouth juices making light whoopie cushion sounds.

People who routinely chew ice in the company of others should have their jaws wired shut.

On the other hand, cars are DESIGNED to eat in. I have no problem barreling down the highway while eating almost anything up to and including BBQ'd ribs, messy sandwiches or even little take out plastic containers with mashed potatoes and gravy or red beans and rice. I have no problem with my passengers eating..and I think the average moron is a better driver while eating a chili dog behind the wheel than when braying like a jackass into their cell phone.

Workplace lunchrooms are my idea of what hell is going to be like. As if the eating sounds and drink slurping sounds aren't enough you have to listen to the sub-human dialogue of a bunch of humanoids you aren't around by choice. The STUPID jokes that squares think are funny; the cheap petty gossip. And of course the inevitable questions some rude bunghole face is going to ask you when you've just taken a big bite of your own food.

I sympathize with celebrities who get pissed off when rude fans pester them DURING THEIR MEAL for an autograph..like I said right off...DON'T bother a man when he's eating. If you do..YOU are the asshole. There are NO exceptions to this rule.

I ordinarily have a bit of sympathy for the homeless..but if some homeless begger asks me for money while I'm eating somewhere my sympathy turns instantly into unbridled hatred. GO DIE DICKHEAD!! Ditto for asshole cult Moonies who make the rounds of restaurants and bars bothering drunks and diners..butting into peoples private conversations in the name of soliciting funds for some jackass egotistical religious PHONEY. Go ahead and ruin YOUR life by joining some cult..but STAY THE HELL out of my way. A few years ago a moonie sales leader got in my face one time two often and I had to leave him in the gutter with a pail of several dozen destroyed roses...

Well, that's another story. Here comes the fried fucking chicken.

10/15/02

Almost nothing pisses me off more than being toyed with..FUCKED WITH by businesses that use sneaky half truth's and clever little deceptions to channel their customers to behave in a certain way. In what seems to me to be a drastically growing number of cases you don't even need to be a customer of some outfit or even in the market for their services to be worked by them.

If it was just an occasional phone sales call or annoying internet add I wouldn't even notice it. Unfortunately It's all starting to look like a bigass ruthless trend that I'm having to deal with all day long in every aspect of my already often tedious life.

The disgusting thing is I don't even leave the house all that much and I'm still bombarded from the minute I get up to when the final bottle drops from my hand at bedside.

First thing when I get up I pour a cup of coffee and stick a couple ice cubes in it so I can chug it down. While I'm waiting for the ice to melt I check the answering machine for messages. Depending on the time of day I awake I can usually count on 1-3 messages or electronically induced hang-ups from businesses whose services I'm NOT even in the market for. of course damn few phone sales assholes will come right to the point; they have to trick you into paying attention to their line of bull. A few times a week I get a message from a guy who talks like Michael J. Fox telling me that my "loan is approved" and all I need to do is gather my most recent statements from my creditors and call him back at such and such a number. Of course...I NEVER APPLIED for the loan..he's fucking lying..knowing that if he makes a certain number of calls every hour he'll run into a stupid ass who actually needs or wants a loan. Yesterday this same voice left a message saying that he was "frankly surprised that you haven't called back yet about the loan..since it was already approved". I wonder what the human worms who work for companies so desperate for business tell their kids they do for a living??

Anyway, after dealing with the phone I switch on the computer and check my email. We have 2 different email addresses. The old one is so saturated with unwanted add's, mysterious attachments that in all likelyhood are sent in an attempt to spread a virus and political hokum that it's USELESS as a source of communication. I'll have to shut it down soon since I'm tired of clearing out the 45 or 50 useless messages that accumulated while I slept for 6 and 1/2 hours. And deceptive?? oh my god!! todays spam incorporates my ebay name, my real name and my Wife and Son's names. They use deliberate retarded spellings in the hopes that you will think "it couldn't be spam" and open it up. And of course there's the familiar old favorite trick of including a bogus but conceivably authentic subject like:"..just thought you should know" or "about that party this Friday".

To me this bullshit intrusion in my life is about as pleasant as some jackass inner city loser running up to my car and spraying cleanser on my windshield in hopes I'll feel guilty and slip him a buck (of course what I usually do is hit the automatic spray button on my windshield wipers..sometimes I get the worthless fucks wet that way!).

It gets even more desperate though. A wrestling website I really enjoy is so fucking oriented towards getting maximum hits that you have to click on 7 icons just to read some clowns 2 page summary of gossip you mostly already know about. The same sight has a pop-up add that always has a cheesy message trying to con you like "if this is flashing you're our WINNER OF THE DAY!!". YEAH...SURE.

No wonder our economy is suffering if the American business community is so desperate for business they have to hound people trick people pester people and ultimately PISS OFF AND ALIENATE people to attract business.

Whereas I'd regulate telephone sales scum out of business in a heartbeat, I want to make one thing clear: I'm not in favor of the government monitoring and regulating the internet no matter HOW pissed off I get. I put my hope in the very real possibility that the dot com assholes will WAKE UP and realize that in the long run they are cutting their own throats. Pretty soon people will have developed a sort of protective mental armour against almost ALL businesses on the net.

My daily irritation is only beginning when I finish off with my A.M. cleansing ..JUST LIKE WIPING MY ASS...of horseshit bogus phone messages and spam from my answering machine and computer.

If I drive my car somewhere on a given day I'll probably need gas. I'm not the type who enjoys running the gauntlet of displays of soda and doughnuts at the local convenience store/gas haven. I specifically seek out places where I can PAY AT THE PUMP. Well, fuck me in the ass...they've made a BULLSHIT GAME out of that too. Countless numbers of times even though a gas station has signs "pay at the pump" everywhere..when you try to use an atm or credit card a little message appears telling you to "see attendant". When I first began noticing this I used to simply walk inside and pay. Nowdays, I get in my car..pull up in front of the double doors and aim an upraised finger while leaning on my horn to attract the attention of other customers. I yell out the open window of my car:"YOU RACIST SCUMBAGS!!! I'll NEVER buy gas here again!!!"

Check it out in your own neighborhood. 9 times out of 10 it's the SAME stations whose pumps are always out of order even though they keep up their signs that read:"pay at the pump". They just want to SUCKER you...you DUMMY...into walking through their store past all their displays. Why can't they just try to lure us into their stores with pictures of golden fried chicken..or banners reading:"the COLDEST BEER in town". Why must they fuck with us??

The latest trend I've noticed is a sneaky, deceptive scam recorded message used at the ordering speaker at fast food joints. Instead of the teenage girl behind the window greeting you with "welcome to burger hell..may I take your order"...you just may be treated like I have been repeatedly to a gruff middle age redneck male voice croaking out a ridiculously long message obviously composed by "corporate management" to pester customers in hopes they can be lured into trying some special fricking "Tex-Mex abortion-burger" of the week. Drive-through windows are meant to be a FAST way of ordering chow. It's enough that I see signs all over the damned restaurant windows advertising their specials. I DON'T NEED a sales pitch.

Incidentally, back in the 80's I once almost fistfought a shoe salesman for repeatedly trying to get me to buy socks along with the damn shoes I had already decided to buy. I worked in retail sales for many years..and I learned to spot people who were in a hurry or didn't want to hear a pre-rehearsed line of reasoning why they should buy batteries or socks or goddamned UPSIZE THEIR meal so they can choke down more greasy french fries.

It's time alot of us ordinary schmucks who are sick of all this crafty deceptive shit FOUGHT BACK. It's time to develope a spine and determine NOT TO BE MANIPULATED. If you feel you are being worked..used..stroked....PLAY THE RACE CARD..or ASK FOR A MANAGER and tell him or her off. Do something..at least slam down your telephone or scream into the fastfood ordering microphone "I wouldn't feed that slop to a RAZORBACK HOG!!!!" and never darken their drive-through again.

10/09/02

My son Elvis is now 18 years old; old enough to enlist in the armed forces to annihilate Islamic sourpuss assholes...old enough to have taken a drink legally a quarter century ago in many States of the union..old enough to shoot pool anywhere in our town. He's also old enough to get prosecuted for all sorts of shit if he's caught doing something deemed naughty with a friend under 18. He's never been in any serious trouble as far as his Mother and I are concerned. Of course he's always been a bit of a standout at school for his unpopular musical tastes (guitar oriented rock) and his willingness to debate against p.c. or square teachers. Occasionally he's had a teacher focus on making life difficult for him..just like the bitch he's dealing with right now on a daily basis.

We don't even know what her official position is at his high school..and what the limits of her authority are. To quote the formerly brilliant (before he turned on his country and his own ethnic heritage) Bobby Fischer "TEACHERS ARE JERKS". This statement was printed in Life magazine when Bobby was about 15 years old and already the U.S. chess champion. I've never heard anybody sum up this basic truth in any clearer manner. It makes me sick to see TV shows and movies that try to depict entire staffs of teachers at public schools as being "concerned" and noble. I am well aware of the fact that most schools have a topnotch teacher or two who really gives a shit...but lets face it..most teachers are ASSHOLES who are happy to strike whenever given the opportunity. Every year of Elvis education (which has been for most years at some of the most ballyhooed schools in the country) he's had to deal with at least 2 OLD, OUT OF TOUCH fossils who are merely hanging around for their last year or so. Every year he has had on the average ONE teacher who inspired him in any way. The rest don't stand out in any way.

I sympathize with teachers who TRY..but find that they aren't backed up when forced to deal with shithead students who deserve to be permanently banned from public schools. Public schools shouldn't be considered free daycare; that goes for high schools that are filled with students in their teens who act like 6 year olds.

Unfortunately, teachers begin to lose their sense of perspective and judgement after a while it seems. They gradually become obsessed (sometimes after dealing with a lot of manure from chickenshit administrators and worthless parents) with enforcing stupid, broad general rules whose purpose has been forgotten.

Like Elvis "special" teacher friend who stalks the schoolgrounds at lunch time and between periods checking for students commiting the heinous crime of..."wearing sunglasses". Elvis has no idea why this bitch is so obsessed with him wearing sunglasses when the Texas sky is incredibly bright and he's only trying to prevent retina damage. But, she's stopped him time after time like a dopey female Barney Fife trying to strike fear into the heart of a natural born rebel..age 18..who hates teachers as much as his social reject writer Pappy has for most of his life.

This broad gets LIVID with rage seeing Elvis wear sunglasses...but she can't even tell him WHY oh WHY they are forbidden..just that they are. Sounds to me like she missed out on her true calling; she oughta be whacking kids in the face with a ruler at a Catholic school along with the other "loving" nuns.

Elvis and I are trying to plan some sort of surprise to embarass this shrew..any emails with suggestions are quite welcome.

Yesterday she caught him with a drink..NO!! NOT booze!! a pink lemonade..an innocent little lemonade. Drinks are permitted in every area of the school except the 9th grade wing..and since the man-child Elvis attended his freshman year in Philly he has to make up a world geography class along with a room of pink cheeked 9th graders who gape at his 6' 4" frame, his unfashionable back length hair and Dennis Rodman basketball shirts. Anyway, he commited the evil sin of carrying his pink lemonade into the 9th grade wing..and was caught red handed by the "concerned" teach.

She got so hysterical about the lemonade she forgot to confiscate (or should I say attept to) his sun glasses. I've suggested to him that he buy the absolute stupidest, most juvenile sun glasses on the market..and set out to have her confiscate them so we can have some fun with her and the administrators. And you can BET your ass if thee Whiskey Rebel is called down to San Marcos high to listen to some bitch gripe about El's sunglasses..well you just KNOW what I'm gonna be wearing from the second I pull into the damn parking lot, HHmmm????

10/08/02

Drove straight into a helluva storm today. I was coming home on I-35 from Austin and a tour of the thrift stores. The radio was beeming out warnings of a funnel cloud that had formed "5 miles West of San Marcos heading east at a speed of 20 mph". Of course, San Marcos is thee Whiskey Rebels home town. It was 5:45 pm or so and still very light behind me and to my left. I could see that I was on a collsion course with a cloud that was almost black. Lightning was flashing like mad from the cloud every few seconds.

It was actually very beautiful. I enjoyed every second of it..up to that point at least. I'm a paranoid coward when it comes to many, many things in life..but I have no fear for some odd reason of earthquakes, spiders or thunder storms. I have no fear of tornadoes either. Several good friends of mine have had close scrapes with them..so I should know better..but HELL. What can I say??

A mile or two out of town the rain kicked in. "This isn't so bad" I chuckled to myself as the radio announcer delivered stern directions about how you should never try to outrun a tornadoe. "Leave your vehicle and look for a sturdy form of cover".

As I approached my exit..all hell broke loose. The rain was so thick I was slogging through several standing inches on the freeway immediately. In eerie fashion the sky suddenly turned WHITE and the rain intensified. Literally every car on the road was reduced to a crawl. My radio reception was failing. I pulled off the freeway when my exit came up and immediately confronted a 3 foot ditch of water in the offramp. Luckily the official Whiskey Rebel pickup truck stands tall and proud or I'd have been in deep shit.

I made my way towards the main street in our city towards home. I could see that there was a goddamned lot of water in the road. The right lane was impassable..and it seemed like only trucks and SUV's were getting through. My brakes started getting a little mushy..so I thought I'd pull over and watch the other drivers..I wasn't in any sort of a hurry.

I learned later that Elvis was semi stuck in his Cadillac a couple blocks away in a Burger King drive through. He too was amazed at the sudden milky white sky.

I watched the water rise up so high over the sidewalks that I couldn't see them any longer. That seemed a bit dangerous to me. I wasn't worried about my safety..but I'll be goddamned if I want to replace any tires because I can't see some foreign object left in the road. I eventually got bored and drove on out into the river of water on the main street. After plunging through what seemed like 4 feet or so of water momentarily I reached a bit higher elevation. I took a back street route up the hill towards our home which is a very high elevation relatively (we're next to the graveyard). I spotted a frat boy walking down the sidewalk yakking away on his cell phone..an SUV driven by an oblivious female student hit a puddle just right and WHAM...a wave of water smacked the guy so hard he almost fell over. He looked humiliated..HEE HEE HO..HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!!!!

Titter titter.

I spent so many years living in the stinking rotten pacific northwest where it rains 270 days out of the year. I much prefer the way it rains here only occasionally but with enough strenght to make people take notice.

Damn. I wish I had seen the funnel cloud.

It's 10 hours later and I'm still watching tremendous flashes of lightning off in the distance towards Austin. We just had a crack of thunder that was so loud it shook the stuff on this table. YEE HAW.

I think I'm gonna sign off and climb up on the roof for a better look.

10/06/02

I'm supposed to wake Marla at 3:30 am so she can get her ass to work..it's only 3:27..so I've gotta wait a few minutes. Only a poor SOB that's had to work insane hours will understand where I'm coming from. Even a few minutes can mean the difference psychologically.

I've BEEN there. I know what it's like.

Recently I've thought quite a bit about my last year in the inventory business. The area manager I worked for (part time..I worked full time in the title insurance biz as a "chainer") was a nice enough lady who sort of reminded me of my Sister (the adopted one..Colleen). I had a deal worked out with her to meet at her house each weekend morning or evening to head out to a count somewhere. She lived in a house owned by a typical white trash couple in their late 50's. There were many rooms in the house that had been partitioned off to be rented out.

Whenever I showed up to meet her..Denise..there'd be a serious poker game going in the middle of the living room of this house. It didn't matter whether it was 5:00 am or 4:00 pm or noon or modnight..around the damned clock the table was filled with various people playing poker.

That's cool with me. I was surprised at first..but I'm a 24 hour person and I know how people love to gamble even though it's one of the only vices I'm not all that addicted to.

Why was I surprised?? I had walked past that house a zillion damn times and never suspected there'd be anything happening there. It was close to where I lived. It's kinda like the Jim Lowe song "green door".

Several inventory people lived in that house. Inventory people are like chess players..considered "square" by squares and fools..quite wrongly. Inventory people and chess people both are toe sucking crank snorting maniacs.

Signing on with an inventory crew in many cases (unless you're hired as a stooge during peak hours) is a damned good way to get your pussy 'et or your stick blown..although the blowee or suckee won't look like Brad Pitt or Brittney. The same thing goes with chess players and their followers..meaning ANYTHING.

You can chuck darts on dart night at your local brew-pub until the NEXT millenium and you may never get laid; you'll do better signing on to count racks of female undies and goddamned unorganized unsorted belts at mall stores all January and half of February.

Learn to push wood at the master level and your pecker will NEVER be lonely and unloved; you gals only need to play at class "B" level to receive attention from all directions.

As for the New York Yankees being eliminated by the California Angels...BOO HOO HOO HOO HOO HOO!!!!!!! FUCK George Steinbrenner and everything he stands for. I've had a goddamned bellyfull of Yankee dominance. It'll be great watching a world series not bought and paid for (providing the Braves are eliminated) I'm an old Cardinal fan from WAAYYYY fucking back and I've got a hat I'm gonna wear throughout the NL championship series. I'm sorry to see the A's eliminated..but the Angel's and Twin's are both fine clubs.

I'm gonna go scratch my privates...

10/02/02

I sat down to drink beer and review CD'S for CARBON14. I noticed right off how much better the Budweiser tasted than the Pabst blue ribbon's I drank at a rate of about 25 per day at the supershow. (I pointed out to Marla that I have no regrets..even though Bud tastes better..it would've cost me 3 times as much to get soused drinking bud vs. the $1 Pbr's at the SS). I immediately noticed how shitty all the CD'S sent for review were. Usually I'm a soft touch for a good review since I usually rate even a pile of shit record a C or better purely because it's guitar oriented rock as opposed to rap-metal or hiphop dreck. On this night everything sounded like shit..fucking straight F's!!

In a few minutes I realized why...I had just returned from a supershow where every goddamned band kicks ass ordinarily. This year the McGillicuddy's (sp?) whom I had never heard were fine and dandy..and the Hammercocks whose CD I've enjoyed many times were a table thumping smash. Of course all the C.O.S. bands sounded great.

I shook my head once I realized that my ears were prejuduced still and reached for some non-review material to entertain me.

See how loaded with integrity I am???

Some soap opera updates from my most intimate personal life: I'm sad to note the death of the man who married my blood Mother who as I have mentioned before is sadly institutionalized..I'll never meet her. They were married a couple years after my birth. Oddly enough they gave up for adoption a "mystery" half Sister of mine whom my swell geneology expert Aunt is trying to track down. They also raised up 3 Sisters and a Brother of mine who came along a bit later. Anyway, I suppose I'm expected to be bitter at the fellow since when I made my precense known to family members he swore the only half Sister whom the news of my existance leaked out to..to secrecy. In other words I have a half Brother and 2 half Sisters (one Sister died a while back) whom if this fellow had his way would never know about me to maintain an appearance of chastity and "perfection" (BARF!) on the part of my birth Mother.

The truth is I feel lucky for all the blood relatives who've accepted me. If a few more want to, that's great. I don't want to pressure those who feel they can't communicate with me. That's my way of showing them that I'm not trying to get anything out of them except a personal relationship.

I think I've begun to recognize that I'm not as bitter a person as I was before I met the blood relatives I did last July. That will no doubt upset the folks who read this diary in hopes I'm upset. Don't worry...there's still plenty enough fucked up stuff in my life to gripe about here. A lot of my occasional cynicism towards people with close knit families has vanished without a trace.

Don't worry...I have plenty to hate about another batch of relatives as my adopted kinfolk battle over my recently dead Aunt's possessions.

I totally blew off a night of Ebay to savor the Angels defeating the damned Yankees. Did you know that they're STILL singing "god bless America" during 7th inning stretch at Yankee stadium?? Tonight a boring opera dude sang it so slow and mournfully I was almost ready to pledge my allegiance to football or Allah or bastardball or Saddam Hussein.

In spite of all the souless, snobbish singing I swallowed down a quadruple shot of Ezra Brooks as Troy Percival the closer of the Angels struck out Derek Jeter with the bases loaded. YEEHAW.

9/30/02

We just got back last evening from the 2002 C.O.S. supershow. The hurricane had vanished long before we got to New Orleans..I never felt a single drop of rain on my head while on Louisianna soil. Weather hysterics didn't seem to keep too many people away evidently..just a few I wanted to see. I had never been to New Orleans and I came away impressed in ways..with the huge variety of food for instance..lots of it inexpensive. I was really pissed off for a while at the sub-human scavengers working the streets to rip off tourists. I got over that soon enough. None of them even approached me and my permanent "walking-the-streets" scowl.

Not that I got away from the motel much..I never went anywhere and did anything except talk to all the folks congregated at the Sleep Inn. As usual there was too many people for me to have proper time to talk to everybody I wanted to long enough.

Music-wise everything went well. The club had rented the building to the C.O.S....(a SMART MOVE on our part). They didn't try to gouge us on beer prices..you could buy cans of PBR (which welcomed the C.O.S. to the club with a mighty banner across the lower roof) for only $1!!!! Attendance was strong..and all the bands played well.

If it seems like I'm summing things up quickly and without much juicy gossip or detail, HEY..my column is overdue for CARBON14 and I want to try to squeeze part of my observations into it.

I'll single out just ONE band to admire the hell out of here..New Hampshire's mighty TUNNEL RATS. They didn't throw in the towel because they found themselves without a drummer a short while before the supershow. Philly stud Eric Perfect filled in for them..and it sounded great. I know it all sounds easy to ignorant laymen reading this..but I've been amazed over and over throughout the years at how many bands fold up like a dogs pecker picking up a splinter in a knothole at the first sign of adversity. Think about it for a minute..if a band was without a drummer at a typical 2 day fest featuring ordinary bands out there trying to claw and scratch their way to the top of the musical dung heap..it would be unheard of for a drummer to bust ass to help out another band. Perfect should be applauded for helping out his pals..even though his own band LIMECELL played that night too. I bet 3 or 4 other drummers would have helped out if he wasn't able though.

People always ask me about the C.O.S. and what it "means"..maybe this example will help some of those who haven't figured it out.

The world of rock and roll perhaps USED to be a "Brotherhood". It's a fact that the night before he died Buddy Holly..who was a big star of course..filled in on drums for another act that he was touring with.

Most assholes in bands these days would see a chance to advance their band a rung by NOT helping out a "competing" act. They wouldn't know each others music well enough either in 99% of cases anyway. Still, even though they would act in a cold calculating manner behind the scenes before helping another band..PUBLICLY they always smile and hug one another and talk about "supporting" the music "scene".

That two-faced shit makes me SICK.

It's nice to have a lot of goddamned friends in bands..sincere ones..after slogging away at this musical crap for well over 20 years. It's great to see a lot of them once a year at the supershow. Incidentally, I have plenty of friends in non-"C.O.S" bands all over the country. I value them just as highly...I wish I saw them as regularly.

Finally, for NOW..one things for SURE great about the annual Supershow...there ARE NO shitty rap-metal acts or suburban whitebread wigger rappers clad in their fubu-wear on the bill. It's shocking talking to people from the C.O.S. bands whom are spread out all over the country what kind of pathetic acts they get booked with year in and year out.

All for now..I hope everybody got home safely...without the case of liquid, flaming diareah I had.

9/25/02

Tropical Storm Isadore is raging away as of this writing..blocking our path to the goddamned C.O.S. Supershow..we'll get there anyway. Sheets of rain and floodwaters will part at the flip of my stinking butt scratching middle-finger...Friday and Saturday are supposed to be beautiful weather days in N.O. Tomorrow night will probably suck..but so what. We'll be getting shitfaced with folks from the best rock bands in the universe..

The worst of the storm will be gone before I even lose consciousness tonight..er, this morning. I've worked my ass off all night packing crap to sell..and I'm feeling rather fucked up thanks to the half gallon of Ezra Brooks and the wide variety of beers I have here to chase shots with.

The only people reading this today will probably be folks who couldn't make it to the supershow; TOO BAD. I don't accept your feeble excuse..you're NOT trying hard enough..If you still are within' car distance climb in your heap and make a balls out run to the Shim Sham club in N.O. for Friday night....that's all I'm gonna say....UURRPP.

9/22/02

June of 1994 I moved with my family to Philly. One of the reasons we chose Philly as our new home was the fast rising indy wrestling promotion ECW. The city we were leaving, Portland had lost its long term wrestling promotion many months earlier. I CAN'T SURVIVE without regular doses of pro wrestling. I can make do for a while watching the hundreds of video tapes I own..but I NEED live wrestling once in awhile to be at my best in what I do in my day to day life. Going to a wrestling card and witnessing in person the screaming fans, the flesh smacking sounds made by the wrestlers, and in general the passion created by the stories told in the ring fire me up the way that some folks get recharged at a church of their choice. Some folks visit a massuese or jog or walk on the beach. Pro-wrestling is MY soul refreshing "walk on the beach"..my way of clearing my head of daily bullshit that piles up and needs to be brushed away. My Kid Elvis and I couldn't wait to take in an ECW card in South Philly. It turned out we lived only a mile away from the arena.

The first night we went we walked into the arena sort of blind as to what was going on in terms of the storyline histories between the wrestlers. We recognized a few of the wrestlers though like Matt Borne as "Doink" and Shane Douglas. Still, we had a helluva good time all night..well, for the most part. The tag team champions of the promotion came out to loud hip hop music that we fucking hated. It was a couple of white guys..one of them light haired and husky..the other a dark haired thinner guy with nutty looking hair extensions. They both seemed way the hell too old to be working a gimmick like that..running around wearing baggy looking athletic wear. They reminded me of the very young tagteam down in Tennessee "PG-13" who also worked a gimmick like that wearing the same clothes essentially and using lots of cliche hand signals.

The tagteam was called "PUBLIC ENEMY". HUH...we thought. The fans really ate up P.E.'s gimmick..and half the arena danced along with them after their victory as they wiggled their butts and moved their clenched togehter fists in a circular pattern in front of their guts. This was Public Enemy's little dance. We weren't impressed.

The next time we attended an ECW card there was a match which has become well known in wrestling circles from a film documentary between Cactus Jack (Mick Foley for you non-wrestling rubes) and the tiniest guy in the promotion "Mikey Whipwreck" vs. Public Enemy. The match got to be really good really fast. Baseball bats cracked off of skulls, there was lots of bleeding..HELL...it was a great match and all four men did a helluva job. After the match Public Enemy did their same little dance from on top of the turnbuckles..fanny's bobbing and clenched together fists rotating in a jaunty circular motion.

Well, I hated their music but I was beginning to understand that it was supposed to be obvious that these two white guys couldn't POSSIBLY have grown up in South Central L.A. like they claimed in their TV interviews which I had to admit were damned funny. They'd talk about how their neighborhood was SO TOUGH they were more afraid of LIVING..than DYING.

I liked that.

PUBLIC ENEMY fought the FUNKS Terry and Dory Jr. in an infamous match that wound up with fans throwing so many chairs into the ring at Terry's request the P.E. boys were buried under an out of control waist high pile. That was of course one of the greatest moments in wrestling history.

Their names were Rocco Rock and Johnny Grunge (Grunge, I thought?? isn't that a conflict of musical genres??) As we saw Public Enemy wrestle more often we figured out their gimmick gradually and eventually I wasn't irked by their entrance music or the little dance they lead their fans in. It's one thing to watch some pink cheeked handsome prettyboy punk do some silly dance with kids after a scientific victory. Public Enemy didn't exhibit many wrestling holds..from the opening bell..from BEFORE the opening bell they were swinging bats at their oponents heads. It was a sure thing there was gonna be blood spread from one end of the arena to the other. One time Elvis and I were standing by a snack bar when Rocco Rock brawled with one of the "Pitbull's" through the crowd to within 5 feet of us. He picked up a quart of milk that had been placed there for coffee drinkers..and walloped the pitbull. The carton exploded in all directions including all over a fans fancy suede jacket.

We saw Public Enemy wrestle in tiny arenas all over the area as well as the hallowed ECW arena. We got to be big fans of theirs eventually. I started really looking forward to their matches as opposed to some of the long winded scientific matches that ECW would include on their cards. I even bought a cap..and a waist pack for Elvis at the Public Enemy merch table from a lady who had to be Johnny's mom or Sister.

Public Enemy were pioneers when it came to putting their opponents through tables in Tagteam matches. Eventually after they left the promotion the "Dudley's" became identified with the tables and eventually were signed to WWF where they used tables for years. Look, obviously tables have been used in Japan and the US for years here and there..but Rocco and Johnny popularized the use of them as much as enemy prior to them becoming a staple of every WWF show.

The boys styles were very different. Rocco Rock did the highfly leaps through tables and Johnny stayed mostly on the ground gouging and punching and using foreign objects.

Eventually they were recruited to a major league promotion (WCW) that was handing out money like it was going out of style to its workers. The night of their last ECW arena match was very emotional. They had been incredibly popular..and some fans were accusing them on the internet of "selling out".

If they had known the truth about Rocco's history in the business they might have cut them some slack. He had wrestled for many years in small indy promotions where the pay isn't all that hot. And, it turns out that he was a few years older than...(shudder..) ME.

I also found out a few minutes ago that Rocco Rock's real name was Ted Petty and that he...sadly wrestled his last match (a singles bout in an indy promotion against Devon Storm) ever yesterday. Even though he was still in incredible shape according to all sources..he died of a massive heart attack. I just read a lengthy sort of obit/tribute by a worker friend of a worker friend of mine posted to "1wrestling.com". I suggest that all you Public Enemy fans visit that website to read some personal notes posted by folks in the business.

I've had a big shot of Beam in ol' Rocco's name..and I think I'm gonna need some more to help me figure out whether to tell Elvis the bad news before he goes to school or whether to let him hear the news afterwards. It's his 18th birthday..it should be a happy day..but it's gonna be a sad time at least for a while.

We started mourning the deaths of wrestlers in our home when we got plugged into the internet. Before then, it could take months or even years to learn of a wrestlers departure. We couldn't care less around here about the "Queen Mum" or some alternative band junkie singer biting it. If they matter to YOU..well, more power to ya; it's wrestlers passing that really hits us hard. I've had a hundred hours of pleasure watching the man do what he did best. No, we didn't personally know him (although we saw him around South Philly at gas stations and sandwich shops). It sure seems right now like we knew him in a strange way.

I'm not gonna try to explain it further..I'm just gonna back on out of here and salute Ted Petty/Rocco Rock by grabbing a bottle and doing what I DO BEST; bottoms up guy..you were GREAT at what you did..and you made thousands and thousands of people happy including US.

9/20/02

The first review of the new RANCID VAT CD "the CHEESESTEAK years" has turned up; when somebody writes a bad or luke warm one I'll print it here with my comments. Anyway, this is from "Garbage Dump" over in Italy:

"RANCID VAT "The Cheesesteak years" (Steel Cage Records) CD

This is a collection of the best from the Philadelphian days of RANCID

VAT, one of the most underrated bands ever. When it comes to RV, a lot

of morons think only about their early pissed-off-noisy records and say

they suck (when I think they have always sounded so unique everybody

should take his hat off when Whiskey Rebel and Marla Vee pass by...),

but this AIN'T like what they can think of. Philadelphia's RANCID VAT

was one of the best rock bands I have ever listened to, able to combine

the rawness of real punk rock with a sonic assault of blazing hard rock

and a stage appearence that was more than unique, and I can tell you

'cause I witnessed with my very own eyes: blood, fury, fists, wrestling,

pure rock'n'roll as it was intended to be: DANGEROUS. All their

classics, new or reworked versions from previous albums, are all on this

CD, and if you still think the VAT is done of rancid art-noise rock

(that's surely better than any of the punk rock rock records you morons

can buy these days...) get this and understand how stupid you have been.

Currently the band have relocated to Texas and started again a new

period, I'm very curious to listen if they can manage to top the

Philadelphia one. Get this CD now if you still believe in the sake of

rock".

I have a few comments. First off, we declared war on rock and roll when we founded the band. WHY? Marla and I were pissed off from bad experiences playing in a pre-Rancid Vat 3 chord band that tried to "get along" with other scenester approved bands. The 1st Rancid Vat show we CLEARED the hall of hundreds of people at a benefit show to see some other bands by playing only two long drawn out songs..the last of which had several false endings to cleverly suggest we were through. We SET OUT to do that..and it felt GOOD. In the last 20+ years I've only enjoyed one or two sets more. As a result we were sentenced to playing the "art band" circuit for a year or so; but..They wouldn't have us either. We had learned to play basic guitar oriented rock songs that weren't "arty" enough by their standards..and the people in the other bands knew we could and would blow them off the stage by challenging the audience that was often in those days made up of New Wavers, Cowboys, loggers, whatever. Maybe we were "noisy"..but we caused a scene at most places we played one way or another.

Eventually, later in the 80's "noise bands" were commonplace all over the US. Some were OK..but most sucked..I AGREE. By the time these bands had come along we playing medium tempo punk rock. Our "Burger Belsen" album recorded in 1984 was 90% Melodic punk rock and 10% feedback oriented guitar leads. Don't believe me?? It was included in a HEAVY METAL book hyped on MTV: "Top 500 heavy metal albums of alltime..Stairway to Hell"; you KNOW those folks don't care for "noise". We had ceased to be a "noise band"..and I heard all the time from "noise" loving folks who were disappointed that we were gradually beginning to sound like every other band in their opinion.

In the late 80's all the herky jerk generic hardcore bands turned speed metal. We responded with "Rancid Vat Justice" which included one side of short (by our standards) songs with hardcore speed bursts here and there to signify that as others were turning away from HC we were turning towards it. The entire 12" flip side was a lengthy space jam that had some goddamned hateful lyrics "destroy nature".

Our recordings from the early 90's show that we were starting to sound an awful lot like a rock and roll band..albeit one that focused on HATING other bands. By the time we moved to Philly in 1994 we had come around to wanting to help PRESERVE rock and roll since the HORRIBLE SHIT (rap,electronica,alternative,corporate punk) that was supposed to replace it was ten times worse.

Gee, I certainly apologize (yeah..surrrre..) if I played some off key "noisy" notes during a guitar lead at some live shows along the way in which we set out to bash out some simple, moronic rock and roll the way it was re-invented back in 1977.

Don't forget..the MC5, Stooges, Velvet Underground, Alice Cooper band and many others had some longwinded "noisy" songs too throughout their years of blazing rock and roll history. They also all had some recordings that were mostly snappy short rock and roll songs. That's the frame of reference to use to critically judge US unless you're happy being a half-informed BOOB.

Our recording session from a week ago sounds like awfully goddamned basic punk rock as Marla and I remember it from when we first got into it in the late 70's. The noise factor has sadly dipped to almost ZERO without any discussion or planning. We almost have no choice but to sound the way we do...which is alot like many other of the few remaining guitar oriented punk rocks acts. We're one of the LAST of the breed..the breed of irreverant drunk PUNKROCK bands that PREDATED "hardcore" and it's fashion oriented cookie cutter hogwash.

Well, my "comments" are a little bit longer than I planned.

I intend someday when I'm done with other books to write a detailed..I mean DETAILED Rancid Vat history that will pull no punches and NAME NAMES. All the problem drinkers, tiny dicks and closet jazz fans that have played in the band will be analyzed in detail..closer detail than any other book ever written about such an obscure, unpopular band.

The "40 pages of Justice" booklet I wrote in the late 80's to go along with the Rancid Vat Justice Box Set edition was 20% or so a crock of shit. I'll be COMPLETELY honest next time.

9/19/02

I yielded to temptation a couple nights ago...I went back to one of my old habits I used to spend alot of time at away from Marla. I even got Elvis involved.

Yeah...you got it. I had him digging in boxes to get me my cheap fix..my TURN ON for the night.

He dug out a chess board and a set of pieces.

The board is a simple red and black affair that comes with a checkerboard we bought him long ago. The set of pieces was the same one that my Pappy Bob Irwin taught me to play on when I was like 3 years old. It's a special design..for those few of you in the know it's a "Florentine" set with real carved elephants with stony looking castles on their backs for rooks. The Queens actually have boobies (no nipples though). Presumably the King's have dickey birds. The knights have guys riding them with detailed suits of armour.

I've been buying and selling a reasonable number of chess books on Ebay lately. A few of them just got to tempting me and I couldn't help but flip through the pages with a set handy.

My study sessions indicate that I'm a way the hell better player than I ever was..even when I was back winning those 22 trophies and a reasonable ammount of prize money. When I was an active player I'd replay games I had played at tournaments and nod along only making note of great moves I occasionally made..and sweeping pisspoor moves under the rug. When I look at those games now I have a 20-30 year buffer period to give me a sort of detachment from it all. It seems that I SUCKED for the most part back then looking at it objectively. Of course, thats from a masters standpoint..which is the level I think I'm playing at now when I secretly tackle on-line computers (whoops! the cats out of the bag).

It means absolutely NOTHING to me to play and defeat computers though..and I get no thrill from beating DUFFERS like almost anybody reading this diary entry are. San Antonio is right down the road..and it seems that there's a hotel at the airport that hosts some big tournaments sanctioned by the U.S. chess federation. Again, I've researched what level of play goes on there..they draw 20-25 experts/masters/senior masters/grandmasters for a 75 payer tournament. That's GOOD compared to what I grew up around. I WANT to play strong players...I've already had a lifetime of playing dumbasses and playing "blindfolded" against peoples smart aleck Brothers-in-law to teach them a lesson.

I'm so short on time though. We'll see what happens. An immediate result of an hour of chess study was tripling my pace of writing on all the different things I'm working on deadline wise. It's amazing that after 25+ years of daily drinking (and 15 years of pot smoking squeezed in there) I haven't burnt out my damn brain chess wise.

I know one thing hasn't changed since I last competed...alot of tournament players are fucking straight arrow GEEKS and the rest of them masturbate while looking at shoes in a catalogue or while holding purloined panties to their nostrils. I vaguely recognized what all that means when I competed..but I didn't completely understand it.

One thing is different since the majority of my career. If anybody tries to intimidate me or give me shit or "psych me out"..well, dog fucking help them. I will fucking scare their worthless ass in return 10 tmes over. It'll happen too. One of the last tournaments I played in I wound up throwing the board and pieces in a guys face because he was trying to pull obvious psychological tactics on me. I was still learning not to be a coward at heart at that point in my life. I am now "almost fearless". Nowdays I'd get the fucker outside the toruanament hall and stick my finger in his face..threaten him..and lie when questioned by the tournament director about it.

Incidentally, my Mother-in-law happened to walk into the tournament room with Marla minutes before I pitched the board and pieces in that hippies face; she NEVER did come around to understanding that. She was VERY embarassed for me though.

I remember a tournament I played at when I was a kid in which the current Canadian champion leaped up in the middle of his last round game (he was leading the tournament..all he needed was a draw to take top prize money) and let out an existential WAIL..WHAAAHHHHHHHAAAAAAH at the top of his lungs. He ran out of the tournament room and eventually wound up forfitting the game. He was soon after commited to some booby hatch in Canada..and no body even knew what was bothering him.

Then there was the time the two strongest players in Washington state wound up duking it out in a fountain under the space needle...DAMN..I LOVE chess competition.

Even if I get the holy crap knocked out of me over the board by a bunch of 9 year old girls..a come back would mean material for a few diary entries..a couple magazine columns..an update for "escape from Cookieland".

If the band wasn't going well...I'd take a hiatus from music for awhile..but what the hell. We recorded basic tracks for 7 songs and it sounds too good to let die on the vine..and I'd never let down the guys in the band. So there you have it..if it's gonna happen I've got to squeeze it in.

9/17/02

What happened to Dale Watson's website??

He hasn't posted a message in over a month. The last post reported his steel player (who was fantastic) quit the band at short notice. He's supposed to be touring in Europe where he is HUGE in certain countries. Good luck wherever the hell you are Mr. Watson.

What happened to Lance Storm's website???

I can answer that one. He posted a prudish anti-alcohol/drugs commentary. I still am a fan of his wrestling and writing skills in spite of the fact that I obviously disagree with him. If he's gonna be a lifelong tee-totaler it's a damn shame he's Canadian and has to miss out on all that great beer. I have many friends who don't drink AT ALL. That's cool..they don't have to prove they have a "good reason" to me. A lot of them are making the RIGHT CHOICE by not drinking. I used to be a mischievous asshole who delighted in getting folks to hop off the wagon. Now, I just don't give a shit. But I've gotta say to folks like Lance..don't JUDGE whether somebody "needs" a drink until you've walked a mile in their damn moccasins..or wrestling boots for fucks sake.

I've heard a jillion stories about alcoholic Fathers who beat their damn kids..

YYYAAAWWWNNNNN!!!!!!

GUESS WHAT?? my non-drinking old man whupped my ass just as hard as your drunk Daddy did!! If he had taken a drink he would've calmed down. I KNOW this is true..I got him to start enjoying wine and an occasional drink when I was no longer living under his roof. We got along GREAT.

What happened to Bill Nelson's diary (the inspiration for THIS diary) website??

It's been 2 weeks since "Nelsonica02" in jolly old England and theres no word what the hell happened.

What the hell happened to all the negative comments at Antiseens Sod Central in the wake of Cosmo backstabbing me?? They were REMOVED from the website. I'm glad they did. If you scroll down and read a couple entries about the whole fiasco there's no sense trying to go to Sod central to read about what I refer to.

What the hell happened to our cats litterbox??

Our new kitten "Dixie" shits all over the side of it..which must piss off our trusty old faithful cat Mr. Jinx. What a fucking MESS!! Elvis has to beat it upside down over our trash barrel to shake all the heaps of turds off.

What happened at the Sex Pistols 1st US show in 6 years??

They kicked ass according to 4 accounts I've read. They are still the unchallenged greatest punk rock band of all time..perhaps partly due to the fact that they don't record empty, pisspoor albums every now and then. The attendance was 45,000 at the festival they played at which included (besides the Damned and the Buzzcocks from the U.K.) a long list of US bands including "X" "Offspring" "Social Distortion" "Pennywise" and others. The show reviewers all point out the fact that there was a strange assortment of fans from many age groups...many of whom were clueless about bands that didn't represent their generation. The Pistols headlined and kicked ass. Evidently the high point of the show was triggered by J. Rotten being hit by a full beer..at which point he seemed to snap into high gear. He ranted from the stage about the sponsers including "KROQ" which he referred to as "a CROCK". Amen Johnny.

I hope they made a LOT of Filthy Lucre!!!!

WHAT has happened to the WWE???

Holy shit!! Something is "happening" in the wrestling world; The WWE is self destructing. I'll predict right now even though Elvis is a WWE stockholder that their asses are going down the toilet in the next couple years unless they turn things around soon.

I'm beginning to envision a return to regional wrestling; it could pop up in a period of a few short months. The WWE as the sole primary booker of national level wrestling ISN'T WORKING. I base this on the horrid ratings and the fact that they seem to be responding terribly to the decline.

I don't see a new promotion on the horizon to replace or compete with them..but believe me..the money and the talent will be there as soon as wrestlers start leaving the WWE like rats deserting a sinking ship; THAT is how you will know it shall come to pass.

Just remember....my neighbor from 50 miles down the road Stonecold Steve Austin was the first to recognize the very possible fall of the WWE.

9/15/02

Elvis and I checked out SIMS websites for several hours tonight while I drank Jim Beam shots and Budweisers. At about 3:30 am we retreated into our entertainment wing of our house and watched some old "BIRDMAN" cartoons for a while. We called it a night about 4:30 or so. I read for awhile from a dead-on biography about the often evil Walt Disney and then switched the damn light off to get some frigging sleep. I tossed and turned though..I've been going to bed about 8-9:00 am lately..and rising late in the afternoon. My mind couldn't quit concentrating on bad thoughts. Anxiety ruled my brain waves. When I finally channeled the horrible worries and fears from my brain they were replaced by an idea for a Carbon14 column I've been mulling. I tried to fight it..but knew it was a lost cost. I climbed out of the sack and did some dishes and started a load of laundry and a fresh pot of damn coffee for Marla to gargle when she awakes at 6:30. I cracked open the fridge and pulled out a few more cans of Bud..and here I am.

Why lay there and toss and turn?? I worked more or less non-stop for a quarter century with few and short breaks between jobs that I had to limit my nighthawk activities for. My sleep schedule is fucked up as its ever been; but logically it doesn't really matter unless I'm planning to travel or have a rare daytime commitment or a burning need to hit some thriftstores.

So, here I am.

I've always loved watching the sun come up; and I've always enjoyed (whenever I've had the opportunity) watching the streets and sidewalks slowly fill with cars and people on their way to work or church. BETTER THEM THAN ME..

The cats stare at me when I get up like this after shutting the whole house down an hour or so earlier. They look at each other as if they've somehow fucked up and are somehow in the wrong. No guys. Go back to work on your 22 hours of sleep per day you get to enjoy.

Marla is now up. I greeted her and now I'm giving her room to wake up on her own. The cats have left me. They sit at her feet as she drinks coffee and eats breakfast. She'll drift out of here in awhile. Elvis doesn't need to get up 'til noon today.

Y'know, beer tastes better than ever this time of day.

Next time your asshole boss grants you a few consecutive days off..TRY IT. Or, better yet..kick his ass..QUIT your job..stock up on beer..and try it tomorrow morning. Your cats will look at you real funny..but that's the price you must pay.

9/12/02

I've thought about the impending war just like everybody else who hasn't figured out a way to tune out current events. I've come up with a point of view I feel confident about.

There's a lot of speculating to be done by anybody who truly wants to make an intelligent judgement of what the hell's going on.

1) To what extent is the Bush administration sincere about acting in the country's best interest...and to what extent are decisions being effected by behind the scenes influential Christians, millionaires and right-wing cranks with hidden adgenda's..

2) To what extent are the democrat leaders who are critical of Bush acting in the country's best interest..and how much of their tactics are politically inspired?? Will they criticize ANY course Bush chooses??

3) When we read that some nation of the world is critical of the US acting unilaterally..to what extent may we consider the nation in question to be providing an intelligent, concerned, thought out opinion..and how much of it is just routine anti-American bashing??

4) Just how fucking bad is Hussein..and how much of what we see on CNN is hype..even well intentioned hype?? To what extent can we blindly trust aerial photos made by government agencies with long histories of corruption?? To what extent should we acknowledge critics that say these photo's are bogus?? 5) How are we to judge concerned American pacifists?? An argument can be made that these people would have appeased Hitler himself..simply because it's their way of life to avoid war at all costs. Amazing at it seems to many there are American citizens (almost all pacifists I presume) who are afraid we'll get our ass kicked if we go to war with Iraq.

6)...yeah..it'sOBVIOUS that Saddam is a shitheel..and that conservative Islam kooks the world over are diametrically opposed to the many, many freedoms we enjoy in the US that I assume 99% of readers of this diary take advantage of regularly. But, still...any President is a politician FIRST. There are one helluva lot of skeletons in the Bush family closet. The radical left is RIGHT about Bush OFTEN ENOUGH that it's important not to tune them out totally. For instance, the left is sharp when it comes to recognizing the subtle (and not so subtle) ways that Bush has tried to make this a war of "good vs. evil"..implying that "god" is on OUR side. Yeah, he pays the neccessary lip service to docile Muslims but I never got into the "god bless America" angle after 9/11/01.

As I've written before..I think the religions of the world are to BLAME for this disagreement..and most others on the international scene for the last few thousand years. Dragging Bush's "god" into the fray isn't going to help a damn bit.

After a lot of drinking and thinking (alright, mostly drinking) I've come to the conclusion that this is one of those instances in our nations history in which the politician's and media commentator's and citizens holding a middle of the road attitude are DAMNED important to listen to. I think the radical left and right are extremely knee jerk when it comes to this issue. I think the folks who are cowering in fear of being whipped aren't any more or less silly in this case than blood and guts "war at all costs" types who probably would support a new bloody 21st century Christian crusade.

Saddam is a slimey creep..probably even worse than any of OUR politicians. But, if Bush can figure out a way to get the U.N. (PLEASE! DON'T start emailing me telling me the U.N. is the "antichrist" or a token of some assinine Jewish conspiracy) to shut the Motherfucker down, well..ALL RIGHT. Just make sure the job gets done.

Of course, Bush's speech to the U.N. seems to suggest this is at least a possibility..although my guess the U.N. is too much a bunch of spineless jellyfish in this day and age to do a damned thing other than pose as "concerned" goody goody's. .

Wouldn't this be a good damn time since a huge percentage of the nations of the world are bashing us on a daily basis in the media to re-evaluate the money and aid we give to some of these backstabbing fucks??

Let's snap the ol' U.S.A. foreign aid purse shut for a few years and see how they change their fucking tune. AM I RIGHT???

Of course I am.

Somehow I don't think the middle of the road folks will go along with THAT. Even so, despite the fact that middle of the roaders are often indecisive and fickle..I think people who are skeptical of both extremes are closest to the truth in this issue (this week at least).

9/09/02

Once again our old singer COSMO has been backstabbing Marla and I at the SOD CENTRAL message board at Antiseen.com

What prompted his temper tantrum was a series of posted comments (positive) towards our new Rancid Vat singer Johnny Motard. The LAST time he posted derogatory stuff about us last April was (coincidentally?!?!?) the last time comments were posted about a new singer for us (a guy who didn't work out in the long run).

Last time he jealously ripped into us we settled it all via direct email. Since then..WE HAVEN"T SEEN COSMO..we haven't TALKED TO COSMO. I'm at a loss to understand WHY the apologetic realizations he came to in April didn't "set".

It takes alot of time out of my life to explain to Cosmo why he is fucked when he back stabb's us; I'd like to post here the PERSONAL email I sent him the 1st week in April...and the response it elicited from Cosmo. My analysis of Cosmo hasn't changed a lick since then..since we've had absolutely no dealing whatsoever.

Is he INSANE?? or merely VERY stupid?? or SCHIZO??

At any rate my response from back then rings as true as it did in April.

FIRST: my personal EMAIL response to him from last April RE: his slagging of us (at the website of ANTISEEN..a band that has requested he keep his personal whining away from their message board)..

""Howie, I want to respond to you...but your email wavers back and forth between being reasonable and incredibly unreasonable. I'm not trying to be a smartass or a schoolmarm here..but it sounds like you hate my guts on the one hand..but want to state that you have no axe to grind at the same time. What's the bottom line?? Seriously..I can't tell.

For the record whatever differences there may have been in the past we've always spoken highly of you down here. We've never wanted to be enemies...and still don't want to. That would be a fucking shame...

If you wanted to work some sort of angle at the supershow you should have gotten in touch with us...that should be obvious...ESPECIALLY since you apparently think I have no sense of humor. ESPECIALLY since you seem to be disgusted with me for various reasons. Why you would raise the subject at the Antiseen website (which to me is a step or two above writing it on a public toilet wall) and then accuse me of silly paranoia is beyond me.

I'm not sure why in 2002 you bring up any comparisons between yourself and Steve Wilson. I think you were definetly a way the hell better entertainer....we were always clear on that point with you. He gets a few points for simply having the balls to be in a band that weird when there were so few bands like us around. Nowdays bands are a dime a fucking dozen...it's easier to be a front man now.

I disagree that you were the whole "F'n show" over the years. But, that's a minor point..I think that singers both good and bad feel that way for the most part.

For the record while we're clearing the air I think there WAS a problem the last 2-3 years we were doing it; the problem was we weren't able to get together to write much new material. That's your fault as much as mine. Yunno...side projects...work, kids, etc, etc.

Back to the present.

What I truly believe is that part of you wanted to work that angle at the supershow and sincerely put us over; and at the same time part of you wanted to make fools of us..fucking humiliate us.

I'm not claiming to be qualified to be a shrink..but it's obvious from some of the sentences in your email that you seem to waver between hating me/us and wanting to get along. It's your choice....but you can't have it both ways.

I think you simply like to push peoples buttons until they get pissed off; whereupon you excuse yourself by chalking it up to wrestling schtick or good ol' fashioned Philly ball-busting. You don't like it when people get ticked off too easily....am I right?? It's partly good fun..but I think it's also partly a teensy bit sadistic for real.

There's nothing wrong with that...that's just the way god (?!) made you. But you need to realize that it's alot harder to tell when you're kidding around and when you aren't 1,200 miles away.

For all my theories...I still can't tell where your head is at concerning us. My best guess is that it's mixed.......

REB""

HERE'S COSMO'S RESPONSE A DAY LATER FROM BACK IN APRIL:

"fair enough phil i think you pegged it right on the head. you we're always

one to be able to read between the lines.. i don't hate you phil i never did

and never will.. i guess i'm just a little dissapointed at the way you just

up and left and never got in touch to tell me you we're goin. i mean i

was'nt callin you either but thats besides the point. thats why i'm grindin

the axe a bit, truthfully.. i was and still am a friend of yours i was

always loyal to the band and again always will be no shit.. as far as the

gimmick goes the versus thing i just thought it'd be a funny schtick and

only the insiders would get it, but your probably right i should have

thought it out first and contacted you.. but i figured you'd want no parts

thats why i posted it to see what kind of reaction i would get from other

people.. no malace was intended well maybe a little.. anyway i hope i

cleared up a few things also and tell that devon levay manson ?? guy to

carry that flag like a motherfucker eh thought i did'nt know that did ya

howie"

So, I figured the problem..whatever the fuck it was..was solved. Until I was alerted to the fact that Cosmo was back on the Antiseen website bashing us once again..??

NOTHING has happened between us since then. We haven't talked to him or seen him. We sure as hell haven't been back stabbing HIM..since I accepted the above explanation as being heartfelt.

But, we get the same old diareah...DRIP DRIP DRIP DRIP DRIP DRIP DRIP DRIP DRIP DRIP....out of his mouth.

The SAME OLD CRAP based on HIS petty jealousy.

Cosmo may be a master of the one liner..but when it comes to an intelligent, longterm, maybe long winded analysis of the truth I've got his ass beat every fucking time.

His backstabbing might suit somebody in their teens or 20's; but as a parent and husband well into his 30's it's obvious he SHOULD KNOW BETTER.

If Steve Wilson had acted this childish when Cosmo took the Rancid Vat singers job Cosmo would've been the first to shake his head in disgust.

If Cosmo wants to keep making with the one liners at Antiseens website I guess I'll have fresh material on a regular basis for this diary. I'll take it to the NEXT LEVEL next time if neccessary.

9/06/02

I was notified yesterday that an Aunt of mine died of a stroke. She was the relative I felt closest to when I was very young. I have happy memories of the old days when just the thought of visiting her would brighten my bad-childhood.

As I've written about several times before, by the time I was 9 years old I began to feel different from my Uncles, Aunts and Cousins (by relation to my adopted Mother) who my parents, Sister and I constantly socialized with several times per week.

It was all about RELIGION; their tiny little fundamentalism -gone-overboard church and their vein popping, screaming preacher and their rules against NO drinking, NO smoking, NO card playing, NO movies, NO dancing..hell..even TV was frowned upon.

By the time I was 9 years old I equated Jesus with Santa. I began to notice all the hypocritical behavior by my Christian relatives. I began to make chalk marks in my brain whenever I asked them a question like "how come dinsaurs aren't mentioned in the bible"?? and got a sarcastic unthinking response.

My Aunt was a very loving and generous person..but of course NOBODY is perfect, and neither was she. I feel a little awkward having mixed feelings about the death of a Woman who cared for me as a baby for days at a time. But I've GOT to be honest.

When I grew up and away from these peoples church I gradually began to perceive my relatives were bashing me when I wasn't around in the same way they used to gossip cruely about my alkie Uncle Lavern and my Uncle Bud and his Wife who were prosperous and kind poeple who were shunned because they DRANK.

When I was 18 or so I went through a phase in which I argued religion with anyone and everyone I could find. This period lasted 2 years. I retired from religious debate at that point...undefeated. When I argued with Christians..including my relatives..the discussion always began with them cockily declaring they could PROVE their understanding or "relationship" with god to me. An hour or so later even the most educated seminary trained folks would finally have to tap out and admit after all that religion was a matter of "FAITH". So, I'd ask..how come they wouldn't allow people like me to make "faith" decisions without giving us grief??

I wasn't about to be led around by the nose when it came to matters of "faith" by a bunch of hypocrites like my relatives. It was obvious they really didn't know what they were talking about. I was BITTER AS HELL that I had been forced to grow up in such a fucked up environment. My parents eventually became influenced by ME and began to drink a little wine and let their hair down..they even had a deck or two of cards in their house for solitaire purposes. We entered a happy phase in our lives in which my parents and Marla and I all got along great. They grew away from that whacky church..and began to enjoy life.

Then, tragedy struck. My old man was stricken with cancer. He was dead a couple years later after alot of suffering. After he was gone, my Mother went back to her old ways...the damned church that had driven a wedge between us during the time I was going up.

My Aunt who just passed away was the ring leader of all her relatives when it came to matters of faith AND matters of cruel backstabbing of deviant "black sheep" relatives such as myself. For example, I once was told about a special prayer meeting held at their church by the ladies in the congregation to pray for my Mother having to endure PHILIP...ME! Yep. I'm THAT bad..or at least perceived as that evil. The thing is, they've only seen the tip of the damn iceburg. I've always spared my Mother some of the more terrifying details of my evil life..such as my consorting with Satanist's on occasion...or attending Antiseen concerts (just kidding guys).

My Aunt and my Mother and their Sister and a couple daughters have all sat around gossiping..picking me apart particle by particle by cell by vein for years and years and years; about 20 all told. The others aren't shy about telling my Mom how horrible I treat her..and how wicked I am with my worldly ways.

I guess you begin to get the picture.

I've never taken a FUCK YOU attitude around them; I've just avoided them. And I made my Mother promise years ago to never have any of them at her home when we came to visit..or we'd turn around and leave.

I know it sounds terrible to say this when she hasn't even been dead and gone for 24 hours, but I don't miss the Aunt who helped turn my Mother against me with her self righteous hog wash. I appreciate the fact she cared for me when I was young and innocent and without a mind of my own. But, the only way I could've gotten along with her as an adult would've been to either submit and let her "faith" control and ruin my life..or live a lie. FUCK THAT.

Goodbye auntie.

Now of course my biggest problem this weekend is how to tap dance around the truth when I talk to my Mother concerning how I feel??? Of course I'll have to think up a frigging lie this once..a few words of false praise. These people have never been able to face up to the truth..and they aren't about to now.

9/07/02

I just heard on the radio a shocking report of a Cockroach found in an icecube in a San Antonio restaurant. OH MY GOD!!!! There'll be a feature report on this hygenic disaster later.

OH FOR CHRISTS SAKE!! Anybody whose ever had a handful of friends who worked at restaurants KNOWS goddamned well that roaches make appearances at ALL of them at one time or another. It doesn't matter if it's a snooty steakhouse or a greasy spoon diner or a fastfood joint. It's inevitable.

What will they report next?? that it's been discovered that a peck of scout leaders and priests in Texas have been discovered shockingly to be homosexuals??

It's proof of what a bunch of ignorant prudes Americans are that blatantly obvious truths can be reported as "alarming" newsworthy events. How many Americans even knew before the trouble a year ago that there are HUGE numbers of Muslims in the U.S.??? How many don't even know what a "Muslim" is still? hhmmMMMM??

How many dumb Americans can't spot even the most obvious toupee...or an obvious transvestite??

These are the people responsible for electing and re-electing all the idiots those of us who are a bit more savvy scratch our heads over.

What the hell....I'm not angry..so I shouldn't get myself all worked up. Why am I not angry this early morning?? I've been reading Russell Johnson's (the "professor") Gilligan's Island book. Now, I haven't been able to watch the show for many years with any enjoyment; I watched every episode so many times over and over in the 70's I just plain overdid it. It's not even amongst my top 20 or 30 or probably 40 shows, but I'm a big fan of TV "inside info" shows. One of the best shows on the air is "behind the music". It doesn't matter whether the subject is "Queen" or "Motley Crue" or the "Bee Gees". LOTS OF SECRETS are revealed. I probably love to watch these shows because doing so confirms my intelligence and ability to realize these entertainers all have feet of clay as they say. I'm NEVER surprised when a musician bloats up a hundred pounds or beats his Wife or wears a toupee. I'm SURPRISED that people are so damn dumb they think current movie stars and musical heroes who's cover hasn't been blown are some how different.

Ooppps. There I go getting angry again.

Mr. Johnson's book reveals all sorts of great dirt; it's right up there with "growing up Brady" by Greg "Brady". There was an insider "Gilligan" tell all TV show on the tube about a year ago. I LOVED it. The sad truth for the actors is that the show destroyed their careers..they became typecast. Star Bob Denver got the DOUBLE whammy; he's forever remembered as TWO TV charachters (the other is Maynard Krebs from Dobie Gillis). The Skipper actually BECAME his charachter..but enjoyed it. Ginger HATED the show even while it was being filmed. Mary Ann (the sensible one) somehow has preservered and has lead a fine life.

Think of a top ten list of bands you admire the most.

I'll fucking GUARANDAMNTEE you they aren't anything like their image in real life in 99% of cases...JUST LIKE TV personalities and big name pop stars. I'm not making an exception even for the bands I like and am friends with. Every band in the world has ONE ASSHOLE and ONE NICE person. Fans are rarely able to perceive who is who. I want to but can't give examples or single anybody out even anonymously without getting a slew of emails tomorrow from hurt friends of mine from bands. THINK about it.

For that matter you don't have to be a pop star or TV personality to have a side to you that others don't suspect. If I was introduced by you to your parents tomorrow (meaning WHOEVER the fuck you are..I'm not singling out anybody..so don't bother to email me and ask me if I mean YOU) I could spend a lot of time around them and never be exposed to your old mans shoe fetish, nasty temper and overbearing career guidance. It could take years before I ever realized your Mom is a back stabbing bitch who isn't right in the head. With few exceptions ALL of our relatives and friends and co-workers have their damned problems. I've learned in some cases the the very guy on top at a business was a lunatic in some ways.

And those folks without weird quirks or "hidden" faults can tend to be very VERY dull indeed.

What are my "hidden" faults?? I have a horrid temper that has toned down a bit over the years. I have a few weird phobia's..such as I can't swallow pills. I'm VERY uncomfortable around telephones. I fart in bed. I'm insanely paranoid of insects..particularly bee's.

Well, enough soul searching..back to the professor.

9/03/02

OK; to satisfy popular demand I'm going to reveal the identity of our new permanent Rancid Vat singer..it's none other than Mr. Johnny Motard (Motards,River city Rapists,etc.). He brings a hell of a lot to the table with him; if you show up to our shows on 9/9 and 9/21 you'll see him hop on stage and croon a few selected tunes...but the prescence of Elvis (who is happy as anybody..he's ready to devote his total energies to his permanent band:"the CATS FROM MARS") allows him to take his time mastering the entirety of our frigging batch of live songs we're likely to do. Mr. Motard and Elvis will somehow share the vocal chores up to and during supershow..in a manner THEY choose.

As far as I'm concerned as talented as Steve Wilson (whom I STILL refuse to bash after all these years) and thee Cosmic Commander of Wrestling (whom we love and look forward to hugging when all is said and done) were..we've taken on board a HUGE talent who has even hit heights WE'VE never hit.

Fuck all of that HYPE though..I'm looking more forward to drinking with him than entertaining people. THAT'S what it all comes down to; do we have fun at practice? the answer is HELL YEAH.

It turns out that both Bobo and King Kong Bundy Jr. know Johnny damn well enough that it all feels almost TOO EASY a fit welcoming him on board.

I got a tube of posters from WALT WHEAT of "Before I hang" fame today for the upcoming Supershow. It's just around the goddamned corner damnit; you've still got time to book a flight or a room or a dick or cunt to suck on for your keep.

Will it be the best Supershow ever??? as alot of people are predicting???

HHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM????????

My crap today resembled coffee grounds..yum.

9/02/02

We're short a vehicle around here since Elvis now has a drivers license and will turn 18 just before the supershow. Or, should I say we WERE short a vehicle..today Marla and I went out and bought a damn Ford Pickup for me to make my way around the hill country thrift stores in. It's used..but the engine is still so quiet we thought at first it had stalled out; we had to turn off the VERY effective A.C. to be able to hear the engine.

I now own a yard that will soon have a horseshoe pit staked out, a pick 'emup truck, a leather hat and I''m slowly learning to drink LONESTAR beer one case at a time..(I'm already a pro at guzzling PEARL). Most importantly, at a baseball game in Oakland Elvis and I were prepared to fight 24,000 fans to back up some Texan's who were out numbered. I'm a goddamned TEXAN now..whether or not certain Texan's want to disqualify me for being born in Boregon..I'll remind them that my BLOOD paternal Grandpa (not to be confused with my adopted relatives) lived here his whole life. I'm just bringing the pie back to the window sill.

We practiced last Saturday with a legendary singer from Austin who has crooned for legendary bands. When we announce his identity it will send shockwaves throughout the remnants of the formerly thriving underbelly of guitar oriented music that Rancid Vat has been a reluctant part of for 23 years. A HINT: he's a fellow DRUNK. Tune in tommorow for another clue.

Today was also charachterized by a series of burning, insistant shits that have me baffled. I ate the most mild catfish..it was fucking "poached" rather than grilled by accident...what sent me running to the pot so many times??

OH MY GOD....ART BELL is actually on the air after weeks and weeks of substitutes. Good night...

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