Whiskey Rebel's Diary

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Archives: 04-08-03 to 04-24-03

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4/24/03

I've been busy as hell getting ready for the Austin record show this weekend. I've got a couple tables....and about a jillion damn albums to peddle along with my new damn book and lots of other stuff. Just like the show a year ago I know right off I'm gonna miss Jeff Clayton not being at the damn table next to me. We drove to the show several times together from the East. I still expect to see alot of people I recognize at these shows...but there's a number of Austin locals who evidently don't think I'm worthy enough to come out and say hey to without Clayton being along. These are the same handful of "TRENDY" people who feed me a load of shuck and jive and extremely transparent bullshit lines about "we'll have to get together" whenever they happen to run into me face to face by mistake. They NEVER fool me...

HEY you little pukes...I can smell you guys a mile away..your scent is exactly that of so many trendy little dandies up in Portland.

I'll be kept more than busy dealing with the sort of obsessive clowns that collect vinyl 24 hours per day.

Marla will be helping me one day of the show..she's already got her noseplugs packed to combat the STENCH of greasy-haired looser fucks wallowing in vinyl-mania.

I've written about it in a couple zines before. Go look my rants up.

HEY....I joined the United States chess federation a couple nights ago. I ordered a new tournament board and set of pieces. I've been reading a book covering the "Queens gambit" in detail...to test my knowledge I've played (and annihilated) the strongest internet computer program I can find. I'll never be the same player I was before when I was young; my "gift" for the game has been pissed away by about 30%. I'm no longer even a borderline prodigy. I'm a 25+ year alky with a pair of grapefruit that makes me fearless against chess geeks. I also have a superior sense of judgement about the game. I can't play even ONE game blindfolded with confidance though..and I used to be able to play 3 at a time. After dealing with all the CUNTS and COCKSUCKERS on various jobs over the years I've had to deal with I think it'll be amusing dealing with chess players.

I got to see an email picture of my Brother over in Italy along with his sons. Whoah!! We would've made a good tagteam 10-15 years ago. He looks pretty badass. Gordon Soley might say he looks double tough. We have the same ears and Marla says the same forehead. He fits the pattern I recognized years ago..its always the truly jolly and friendly sorts who look badass. I think I got that backwards. It's the badasses who always wind up being jolly humorous types.

A quick wrestling roundup: WWE SUCKS!! Angle and Austin are out..possibly forever. HHH & Nash and Hogan BLOW. Brock is great..but can't carry the load paired with the wigger wrestler John Cena. Jericho is in his prime..but is held back by HHH just like so many other worthy wrestlers (RVD , Benoit, Booker, etc.). Goldberg has been an arrogant prick behind the scenes (Jericho had to knock the shit out of him legit) because he's had it all handed to him. Steiner has blown his nut. Piper has a frigging false hip. Flair busts his ass..but it's too little. He can only do so much.

I haven't enjoyed watching WWE in weeks. I can't see me wanting to see the next PPV. As I've said before: Chump Hogan RUINS any promotion he wrestles for. Vinces big twin-boo boo's were allowing Chumpster to contaminate Smackdown while his Son-in-law makes a joke of RAW.

Ted has sent me a R.O.H. vhs (I'm a TED-ROO)...I hope it's the answer. I hope it can get me interested in wrestling again.

I just heard Paul Harvey on the radio...how is it he's still alive?? Him and Ronald Reagan are evidently the same age and both suffer from declining mental powers...yet the Reagan family has the taste to keep ol' Ronnie underwraps and out of the limelight. Isn't it about time the Harvey family did the right thing?? HHmm???

4/20/03

I've thought for a long time that the CRAMPS are the best rock and roll band in the world. My drunken thought processes that have lead to this decision recognize their incredible longevity, their ability to produce 100% listenable albums since DAY ONE, their wild live shows, the way they've inspired an incredible number of bands and lastly their GREATEST contribution to rock and roll: the way they have managed to educate us fans over the years about so many obscure rock and roll lunatics of the past by covering their songs. The CRAMPS have always been very different from the scores of 60's psych and gargage acts that simply ape 1950's-60's songs and fashions. Why?? They have their own look and style..and one foot planted in the year 2020 or so.

Last night we got to see them play in Austin at STUBB'S which is a big outdoor venue. My wakeup time these days is 4:00 pm or so....and I've gotta say I felt like shit clear up through the drive up there. On the way I picked up an 18 pack of Budweiser and started in on a night and day of empty stomach drinking that stretched to 8:00 a.m. this morning.

The CRAMPS are one of Elvis's favorite bands...along with ACDC, the Ramones and a few others. Marla goes way back with 'em..having opened the show for them with her all female rockabilly band in 1981 or so. They're sure as hell a band we all agree on.

I waved Marla and El on ahead into the show whilst I polished off a few cans. When I finally found them to the side of the stage they were with Jeff Martin (Buzzcrusher) and his lovely Wife. Great. Within the grounds of Stubb's I was forced to drink $3.50 beers..but was happy to see that for my $3.50 I could opt for 16 ounce Lonestar cans. YEEHAW.

Unlike alot of other big rock acts the CRAMPS didn't make the crowd wait (I HATE that shit!). They took the stage 20 minutes after the opening act was done. Lux came out wearing a tight leather outfit and some goofy sunglasses. He was limber enough without any warmup to perform several mic stand baton twirl tricks during the first song. Ivy banged out the chords like clockwork while the rhythm section kept a sparse caveman like beat going from song to song. The bass player Chopper ammused me no end by playing guitar parts from a couple old familiar Cramps songs ("garbage man" for one) on his high strings. He's really good for the band..he doesn't just stand up there droning along echo the guitar like so many bass players.

I guzzled one Lonestar after another after another (and smoked up one of Jeff's Camels after another after another) as the Cramps blazed through one great song after another. When they launched into "psychotic reaction" I turned to Jeff grinning..and said "now they're getting to the hypnotic stuff!". Sure enough..they had switched from more pop structured 3 minute songs to crazy open ended tunes that draw you in; in the same way Big Jay McNeely drove white kids nuts back in the 40's by honking and screaming with his sax rather than play polite jazz solos. The end of the set..time to blow everybody's frigging wigs off with intense shit that's 90% physical...10% technical.

The final encore number was "surfin' bird". Lux whipped out a bottle of Thunderbird wine and gargled on it for awhile. Then he threw his annihilated mic stand up onto a platform five feet higher than the P.A. stacks. He climbed up after it step by step..groaned and bellowed into the mic for awhile..and then climbed from the little platform OVER A FUCKING RAIL and onto a balcony loaded with people probably 25-3- feet above stage level. He stuck his head through the metal slats of a barrier and blathered into the mic for awhile..slapped hands with an astonished bunch of fans who never expected in a million years he'd wind up next to them...then he went back down the same way he had climbed up.

Meanwhile Ivy had peeled off her red velvet knee high boots and was using the bottom of one as a guitar slide. It was all impossible not to watch..I mean, what in the hell was going to happen next?

I almost forgot a great bit of schtick Lux used between songs. He lampooned bands that go into politcal or "meaningful" rhetoric between songs by joking about how we should "kill the penguins! they're eating all the fish!"

It was a helluva show...and I can't wait until they come back to Texas.

Oh yeah...we bought their new CD..and it's goddamned GREAT. My favorite songs so far are "tabboo" and "Elvis Fucking Christ".

I've met most of the folks from bands of my generation that I want to...one of the exceptions is the CRAMPS. We have a few mutual acquantances..maybe it'll work out someday. One thing for sure is..we worship the same ancient obscure records and vhs tapes and cheesy books and shit that 99.9% of normal people our age think is childish nonsense.

4/18/03

I realized a few days ago that I never bothered to direct a good old fashioned "I TOLD YOU SO!!!" to anybody who happens to read this diary who may have doubted my ability in this specific case to predict what was going to happen when the war began.

I'm not like partisan political junkies who live to wage battle on people on the other perceived end of the spectrum. I've been interested in military history since I was 10 years old or so. I came VERY close to getting a degree in history at Portland State University. I attended of course literally hundreds of lectures many of which of course focused on MILITARY matters dating back to the goddamned Greeks. Even more important to my eventual emergence as a topnotch armchair general is the huge mountain of books I've read over the years. I'm a sucker for biographies. I've read probably a dozen or so on Adolph Hitler alone. To balance things out I've read classics ranging from Churchill's massive multiple volume memoirs to book critical of FDR and ol' Winnie. When I found a 2,000 page account of the behavior of the Japanese Emperor during WWII I dove into it with pleasure. It doesn't MATTER how many books I gloat about reading; if I hadn't learned along the way to independently ask questions and seek out answers concerning the personal agenda of the authors of these books it would all be about as meaningful to me as reading the damned Hong Kong fucking phonebook.

After many years of learning how to weigh differing accounts concerning different historical developements..it's EASY by comparison to tune into CNN or MSNBC or FOX or any other U.S. TV news service and perceive quickly and accurately the lefty-righty slant that the reporters or their editors are ladling over the incoming stories like gravy. The "gravy" is always Soooo familiar tasting.

If you ever want to develop a BULLSHIT DETECTOR as savvy as thee Whiskey Rebel's you're gonna have to come to a complete understanding that representatives of both "sides" of the American political perspective 1) sometimes LIE 2) sometimes deliberately ignore facts that argue against their sides position 3) and sometimes believe it or not they even TELL THE TRUTH.

The dialogue that emanated from my TV and radio speakers and that I occasionally read in newspapers and on internet news sites was INCREDIBLY slanted a HUGE percentage of the time...in "BOTH directions". Bush sure as hell has his faults and has a personal agenda that he sure as hell doesn't want to share with we Americans; but is he the imbecilical, binge-drinking, monarchist/fascist/racist/sexist hateful monster that the wavers of hundreds of thousands of signs have been convinced he is???

OF COURSE NOT. The exaggeration of his "evilness" may help protest organizers keep the casual weekender protesters in line but it should be seen by any intelligent person desiring to develope an ability to read through such B.S. as political dogma.

I supported our President in this war...and I truthfully DO feel safer now that a large number of terrorist assholes are either dead or on the run. We've taken the battle to "their house" shall we say.

BUT!!!! I almost hurled when I first saw the battle slogan of "operation Iraqi freedom" unfurled across my TV screen. WHAT a load of feel-good sensitive CRAP!! This is a classic and basic example of the dominant end of the political spectrum trying to candy coat the war. NO WONDER people began to freak out after the first dozen or so casualties were suffered.

Thee Whiskey Rebel is a goddamned REALIST. I'm NOT impressed by partisan political adversaries who stretch the truth with glee to boost support for their side.

Boy we sure saw a hilarious and fortuitous example of a FUCKING PARTISAN LIAR digging a hole for his regime just a week or so ago. Remember the Iraqi "information" minister ?? (he was the guy who I still swear looks like baseball great Yogi Berra). One of the reasons why our forces caught so many Iraqi troops protecting Baghdad by surprise had to have been because he was telling representatives of the media from sympathetic Arab nations that the Americans weren't anywhere NEAR Baghdad..and that those cowardly American forces that had come close had been routed and were committing suicide on the "walls of the city" or some such dreck. If you were a soldier and you heard that you'd probably be tempted to kick back and have an extended smokebreak after a couple weeks of bompbing.

The reporters questions at the daily centcom briefings are 90% IDIOTIC...and have been since the outbreak of hostilities. 5th graders in special ed. classes could do a better job. Geraldo's apology?? PHONEY. All the religious mush that's accompanied the reporting of the "news"??? It's a lot of religious mush.

All the talk about taking on Syria next??? Just alot of chest beating. In spite of all the jihad rhetoric that will be whipped up either way by exaggerating Arab "information" ministers they're just too puny to whip in a conventional war. Let Israel take 'em out (it'd probably take 48 hours at most). It'd be like a fullgrown man hitting a woman to kick their ass (unless they pull some very blatant shit on us..then GO AHEAD anyway).

North Korea?? A bunch of commie sabre-rattler's. They maintain the aggressive line of bull to impress the starving commie populace. Eventually China will slap their fucking mouth shut.

I'm not going to say "I told you so!!". Instead I'm going to ask..what about all the dire warnings delivered by the Russians and French and Chinese the first couple days of the war??? It was all just rhetoric meant to impress their citizenry.

What about the Arab nations who warned us that the mountains and hills would cave in on us if we violated Arab soil?? Nothing but alot of empty jargon AS USUAL from that part of the world. It's the LACK OF ALCOHOL that confuses them.

REMEMBER 9/11...REMEMBER the Alamo...and always REMEMBER not to doubt thee Whiskey Rebel in the future. Sex, drugs, rock' roll and Lonestar fucking beer....UUrrp. Goodnight.

4/16/03

I wasn't kidding; the next time your cats litter box starts to reek..take an ordinary pack of breath mints..wedge one in each of your nostrils. Then, using an ordinary cheese grater grind up the rest of the pack over the smelly mess. Next, DRINK A 12 pack of your favorite beer. When you're done..carry the whole goddamned mess to the door and out to the sidewalk. Huck it out into the middle of the street..then take a cab to the nearest grocery store to buy more beer and another frigging litter box.

I'd like to salute Antiseen for having the chutzpah to last out a 20th anniversary show (it's being held this Saturday in Charlotte stupid!!). I wish I had the $$$$ to be there...but unfortunately I'm gonna have to miss this one. That being the case I'm hereby banging back the first shot of Jim Beam in honor of the upcoming Antiseen 25th anniversary show..which I will hopefully will be financially healthy enough to attend.

Antiseen is not just a mere rock band; they are a bonafide HOBBY and a way of life for a helluva lot of fans from the few continents that matter. Most importantly in these troubled times the individual band members are all ROLE MODELS you can point at and say HELL YEAH.. HAIL ANTISEEN!!!! UURRPPPPPPP!!!!!

That belch sent the ceramic turtle and plastic pig perched on top of my IMAC FLYING.

I got a call from Joe Hornof a few hours ago. He's not only the longterm friend I dedicated my new book "Hostile city or bust" to..he's the 3rd member of the original trio of us (including Marla and myself) that played at the very first Rancid Vat show. He told me that he bragged to a friend the other day that he hasn't read a book in 20 years; will he finally crack and read THIS one which is dedicated to him??

What would you do???

And WHAT are you planning on doing about ordering the book?? Are you going to put it off like a fucking pud-pounding little jerkoff?? or do you crave the distinction that accompanies being the first in your circle to possess it?? HHmmm?????

Unless you behave like a total prick when you order it I'll gladly personally inscribe it to you. Believe it or not I've been delivering 2 day turnaround service on the orders that have flowed in. You can go to our Ebay store (Brilliancy prize records) and pay for all the copies you need via paypal.

Fellas....you may not boast of a significant "package" anatomically speaking..but you're gonna feel like you do for a few minutes when you waggle your copy of this my 2nd book in front of the big tittie gal in your neighborhood you're lusting over. Gals..this book is gonna get you HOT..and WET...and..well, just see for yourself.

I'm getting all riled up just thinking about all YOU FOLKS getting riled up about it. Good night...ooohhh....yeeeaahhhhh.

4/13/03

Yeah, yeah. I'm a big beer drinker who fills the stool with a big beer shit first thing every morning. I'm sure that when I write about my personal disgusting bodily functions it upsets and revolts many more readers than it amuses. If this is you...you're certainly in luck today. I'd like to share a house cleaning tip with everyone. Appropriately it's a technique I've devised over the years to clean that very same toilet that I abuse everyday.

I suggest that you folks reading this email this handy tip to all the folks in your life who are tired of the appalling sight of crusty shit stains left in the crapper.

My wife Marla nagged me for years about thoughtlessly leaving these sort of stains along the rim above the waterline of the porcelain throne. I did some soul searching and came up with an answer.

Nowdays when I leave a sticky mess clinging to the bowl..I HEAD FOR THE REFRIGERATOR. That's right; I bypass the toilet brush (it's LOADED with germs you know) and our closet full of cleansers. I grab about 5 ice cold beers..drink 'em really fast..and wait to let nature take its course. After 40 minutes or so I'm usually dancing around I have to piss so bad. I procede to the contaminated crapper..whap out my water weenie and WHIZZZZ. The beers make my urine pump out in a violent spray strong enough to cut through almost any caked in poop nuggets.

Guys?? Don't you think your little lady deserves that kind of thoughtfullness from you?? Whether she's been on your ass lately or not about what a pig you are why not try my method out?? She may wind up really "turned on" by you changing your ways. Best of all Instead of bitching at your shit stains your sweetheart can simply drop a sixpack in your lap or on your side of the bed to let you know of a "nugget alert".

Check here tomorrow for my sure fire method of cleaning the cats litter box with breathmints!!

4/09/03

Marla and I stopped off in Lake Charles for the night on the way home from Mississippi. We stopped at a truck stop a few miles out so that I could load up on beer for the night.

I'm a real whore when it comes to the brands of beer I drink. Offer me a good deal on your 12-24 pack and I'll likely take the bitch home. What I saw stacked by the cooler in this little Louisiana crossroads was something I've NEVER seen before; a case of 24 "10 ounce" cans of Budweiser. It blew me away because I simply couldn't imagine WHY in the hell having less ounces in a can could be perceived as a selling point..yet there were accompanying cheerfull signs pointing out the fact that these cans were 10 ounces instead of 12.

I called Marla over and asked her if I was missing some sort of advantage to having a couple ounces less in each of my cans of beer. She shrugged..and suggested having two less ounces in each can might mean that the last bit of each can doesn't get warm.

My eyes rolled back into my head. Of course Marla's NOT a pro drinker..she's been a part time sipper for a long time. Only a "SIPPER" would worry about two ounces of beer making any damned difference.

I picked up the suitcase..and noticed it was considerably lighter than a normal one. I considered buying it for research purposes. I had NO idea what I might be getting myself into. Was it a case of simply making the product smaller..such as the way candy bars shrink in size from time to time?? If so...why was this case of cans a featured ballyhooed sale item??

I simply HAD to take this batch of undersized cans to our motel room for detailed study. I'm thee WHISKEY REBEL...I'm EXPECTED to know about these things. What if somebody asks me about 10 ounce beer cans at our show tomorrow night?? I HAD to figure it all out.

The 10 ouncers resembled little juice cans. I drank a whole lot of them down while simply sitting in a chair staring at the cans reading and rereading the writing on the cans.

The next night back at home I finished off the last few cans. I had been numbed into a sort of familiarity and comfort with the tiny cans by that point. I no longer questioned what it all meant. I went with the flow.

I didn't realize what it all meant until the next day about 1:00 pm. I had just arisen from our futon of death. I was sitting in front of this keyboard watching the mailman walzt out of his truck over to our box to deliver our mail. As he walked back to his truck I realized that never before had I noticed what a cute tight ass he has.

Suddenly I was revolted....

PWAHHH!!!! I was ogling another mans ass!!

What had gotten into me!!

I slapped myself hard in the face.

THAT'S when I remembered all the 10 ounce cans I had drank...

THAT'S when I finally realized just WHAT those little cans are all about..what they can DO to a real he-man beer drinker.

Since then I haven't drank out of anything smaller than a 40 ounce bottle..

4/08/03

We managed to make it back from New Orleans and Hattiesburg alive. We played a joint called the "Dixie tavern" in N.O. on Friday night. The amiable booker made a point of telling me how hard she was working to try to get local fans to expect decent bands on a regular basis. The problem was that she let in 3/4th's of the people who came out for free.

It's always my policy when a booker is speaking freely to me to keep a goofy, deceptively drunken and happy grin on my face so as to coax 'em into thinking I'm dumb enough to open up to. Unfortunately, even though she was personally nice enough (I'm not mentioning her name..am I?) it goes with the territory that bookers are LIARS from the word go. In some ways they NEED to be liars..such as when trying to be nice to shitty local bands who asked to be booked.

Anyway,like I've mentioned several times in print, the fact is that guitar-oriented music is dying in large part due to bookers and fans in cities like N.O.

If the booker was SERIOUS about providing regular quality entertainment for the bars patrons, she'd charge people at the door..and turn that money over to bands..whom in turn would be interested in playing there again..and whom would spread a positive report to other bands about the club. By letting all the locals in for free she's killing off the club..NOT building it up. By not charging the locals at the door she's licensing ME..a disgusted band member to spread the word to every band I'm in touch with (and I bet people from 100 bands read this diary) NOT to play at the Dixie tavern in New Orleans. There are TONS of clubs there..the Shim Sham, Checkpoint Charlies, etc. etc. There is NO shortage of clubs in New Orleans.

The fans I met at the Shim Sham in N.O. at the supershow last year were ordinary worthy ones whom expect to pay at the door; the folks who patronize the Dixie tavern evidently feel above having to pay admission. They're killing off the clubs ability to book decent bands when they do that. I get emails weekly asking why we and other bands I'm in touch with never tour the USA..this is a PRIME example. If a club pays bands fairly eventually other bands will be beating down the door to play there. If not..the locals are stuck with local under-achiever bands who will play for nothing.

Anyway..we were treated with respect at the Dixie tavern..and we weren't totally stiffed. But next time we'll play a club that is professional enough to charge admission honestly.

In the end we wound up playing to only a portion of the cheapskate locals who all ran like pussies when a fight broke out. There were luckily some key individuals there whom I wanted to play to. it was worthwhile having done the show for that reason.

Talking to the guys from BEFORE I HANG we learned that Hattiesburg was scheduled to be invaded by 30,000 outlaw bikers the next night..which undoubtedly was going to effect our show there. Local apprehensions (I didn't see ONE biker all night) and a D.A.C. show across town kept some people away I expected to see, but you don't expect huge hordes of fans in Hattiesburg in the first place. Happily the locals who braved the rumors of hordes of vicious bikers all paid at the door unlike the juvenile worthless little pukes the night before.

Being our 2nd show in as many nights I expected a tight set and we delivered one. We're playing in San Antonio in a couple nights..where they ALWAYS are happy to pay admission to see us.

The hospitality we received in hattiesburg was incredible as usual. I'm not going to go into detail..I'm just going to blow a big whiskey kiss here and now to Walt and Heather Wheat...SMACK.

Oh shit. I've got to say something about the ACDC tribute band that played first in Hattiesburg. A while back I wound up doing a reading in a club in Atlanta the same night another "very special" ACDC tribute band played. I made some statements at the time about how there must be at least one of these clone ACDC bands in every city in the US....and this band in Mississippi confirmed my opinion. Don't get me wrong..I LOVE ACDC. Why must the least qualified people form these goddamned loving tribute bands though?? Back in Philly our old guitar player Jimmy played in one..but he knew all the Angus Young parts and is a topnotch fucking player. Just like the band in Hotlanta the band in Hattiesburg had multiple guitar players..none of whom could play in any many even approaching Angus. I mean..EVEN I could play the leads better..which isn't saying much since I'd do a shitty job. The poor designated guy in Hattiesburg stood like a statue (like Luther Perkins!! Johnny Cash's old guitar player from the 50's-60's) and managed to wriggle his fingers on the fretboard a bit; NO emotion...NO storming around the stage..NO energy...NO GOOD. The gal that was singing was reading the lyrics off of a note pad. She gave her all...hell, the whole band did their best. But sometimes the best tribute is to avoid a bands material entirely. Jesus fucking Christ. I could do a more convincing Elvis Presley act.

The bands Mom's and siblings appeared to be in the club..so I kept my mouth shut and my ass outside for most of the set since I didn't want to fuck with the band whom I think played their hearts out in their own way even if they sucked.

If anybody reading this is tempted to start a "tribute" band..PLEASE! THINK!!! What kind of a tribute are you paying if you get up there and SUCK??

Another cheesy attention getting gimmick is to line up a bunch of local bands to all play 3 songs by a well known band. This is a sure fire way to attract 35 people to an otherwise dead club on a Tuesday night. I'll take REAL ORIGINAL BANDS anyday.

It's technically my birthday (4/9) since it's after midnight. Marla and Elvis will do their best to make it a lively day so that I don't start getting too depressed. I will anyway though. I already am sinking into it sitting here. What the hell....there's only one thing to do about it..and I'm already doing it. I'm drinking BUD from a favorite huge glass (it's actually a pitcher..we just call it a glass as part of our Irwin jargon). I'm drinking shots of Jim Beam from a George Jones shot glass. If things get too bad I'll probably avoid Mr. Jones LP'S and play the 2nd disc of the "Risque rhythm & blues" anthology I broke out earlier. I can always sit down at the chess board and work on opening theory..or watch a re-run of "Family Feud" on the gameshow network. For that matter I guess I could consider going to bed..NAH. That's a little bit extreme. Gotta stay up to see the sun rise as usual.

Have you ever noticed how often people shrug off a bad mood with "I don't give a shit"?? That's almost always a dead give away that they do.

as fast as they seem to be passing away. I have a hunch (although I can't back it up with any logical reasoning) that I am wrong..and that there are new young talented wrestlers, musicians, writers, legendary drunks, etc. in motion ready to fill the shoes of the elders. I hope so. I sure as hell am not going to fall into the trap of believing that the only great people worth a damn are the ones I've seen in my lifetime. That sounds too much like 80 year old guys pissing and moaning that the baseball pitchers of the 1930's were so much better than todays guys; yeah, yeah...how about Randy Johnson and Roger Clemens old timer??

One of my favorite websites is "Kayfabe memoires" which features the most impressive collection of stories told by retired wrestlers of bygone era's on the internet. I love reading what they have to say for the most part..but I cringe just a bit when the old coots feel like they have to blindly boost the guys from their time as being vaguely superior in ways they can't explain. Yeah, it's natural I guess. I'm not gonna fall into that trap though.

I understand why they take it extra hard when somebody from their own generation dies..but I think its chickenshit and wrong to willfully curse the WORTHY ones from younger generations out of plain miserable geriatric spite.

Anyway, on the second night of Paycheck's death I drank casually biding my time while Marla and then Elvis hit the rack. I listened to albums I'm reviewing for my country music book for a couple hours waiting for them to get good and permanently asleep for the night.

I brought out a fifth of Jim Beam and popped on the last 4 songs of his live in NYC album. After he sang the line in "11 months and 29 days" about keeping "the dance floor hot and the Lone Star cold when I'm gone"..I shook my head at how he seemed to be communicating with me in my silly sentimental state from beyond the grave. I banged back a couple shots from a George Jones shotglass (hey..they were buddies..and I don't have a Johnny Paycheck shotglass). Next I got out the CD of his 60's "Lil Darlin" label material and switched the lights out and focused on every damn one of the 24 songs. I don't know how many damn shots I tossed back..I don't count drinks. Only frat boys and Madd Mother bitches do. I drank as many as I NEEDED..and washed them down with a specially acquired 12 pack of PEARL.

When I woke the next afternoon I felt a bit of a hangover as usual. I also felt like I had finally given him a send off in the manner that I would want to be remembered. Some people scrawl messages using soap on their car windows to express their feelings about someone who has died. Other people buy space in the classified section of their local paper to state that they will never forget. If that is your way..more power to you. But, neither of those ways make any sense to me personally. I'm not into big public displays. I quietly knock back a few shots and try to reflect on the life of the person I'm mourning. I think the Irish really handle deaths the best way; they celebrate the life of the departed one. That's what makes the most sense to me. I'm not into expressing my sense of loss by cutting my clothes to ribbons or tearing my hair out in chunks.

And, I'm into writing a few words here sometimes when someone I admire passes away. If it seems like alot of wrestlers are dying left and right the last couple years, may I remind you that these days we hear about it within 6 hours of their passing thanks to the internet wrestling sites. I didn't hear about guys like Adrian Adonis dying until years later in the pre-internet age.

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PO Box 1781

San Marcos, TX 78666

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Whiskey Rebel's Diary Archives(10-31-02 to 09-02-02)

Whiskey Rebel's Diary Archives(08-30-02 to 07-03-02)

Whiskey Rebel's Diary Archives(6-29-02 to 5-28-02)

Whiskey Rebel's Diary Archives(05-26-02 to 05-03-02)