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Colon Day 2011

October 10, 2011 4 Comments

I remember Columbus Day because I used to play music in a hundred and one bands anyone that would have me and try to make money to eat and get cigarettes and I don’t smoke and there still was never enough money and I played at a tee-totaling biker association party for two members’ wedding not gay a man and a woman that arrived on a motorcycle with the woman I think wearing a white wedding dress and no helmet and we played for one hundred sober bikers and ninety-nine of them were like accountants and one was like a serial murderer but they all looked exactly the same so you had to assume they all would kill you if they got the chance instead of the more likely thing that they’d do your taxes if you asked nice and I never played Born To Be Wild for a wedding song before and the bride’s father was in jail I think so she had to dance with the groom twice and the whole thing was held at the Italian-American Club on Gano Street in Providence but everybody calls it Guano Street for a joke haha and it’s a real long time ago but it might have been the Portuguese-American Club I don’t remember but I do remember it was Columbus Day and I went into the bar to get away from the sober biker accountants and that one serial murderer that were in the function room and it didn’t matter if it was the Italian-American Club or the Portuguese-American Club or the Knights Of Columbus Hall haha that would be funny but I don’t really remember but I distinctly remember a guy with a knife a real knife not a just a knife a dagger that came to a perfect point and didn’t fold or look like you could do anything wholesome with it it just looked one hundred percent like it was designed and made to gut a bass player and that guy held that knife right under my chin and explained to me in Portuguese that Cristobal Colon was Portuguese and don’t you forget it and my Spanish was very sketchy and Portuguese sounds like Russian to me not Spanish anyway but believe me I understood every damn word he said and I advise you all to answer the question did you know Cristobal Colon was Portuguese in the affirmative at all times.

The end.

Rape! Murder! It’s Just A Shot (And A Beer) Away

October 8, 2011 7 Comments

Reader Charles Schneider sent me a link with a handful of “Worst Band Performances Ever.”

I hate to disagree with my readers. I’m constantly doing it, though, and it brings me nothing but grief. But how can I sit still, and allow the South Bay Surfers (on MySpace, natch) to be lumped in there with all that execrable stuff? This aggression must not stand, man. They’re not “bad.” They’re not “the worst.” They are sublime. We must take a minute to consider the sublime when we encounter it.

There’s plenty of bad stuff on that webpage, don’t get me wrong. But YouTube is a cornucopia of bad stuff. It is the Miss America Pageant of Meh and the Nobel Prize Committee of STFU. You’re going to have to be a lot worse than that to get a rise out of me.

But even YouTube isn’t big enough to hold every abominable noise, every obnoxious attitude, every atrocious waste of time, every repellent theme, every nauseating worldview — each and every aspect of the self-absorbed caterwauling that the American garage, filled with the fetid and festering innards of a disemboweled Guitar Center and engorged with wannabe rock stars, can produce. It exceeds the Gross National Product of Perdition. It’s too vast to get a handle on, although you’d like to get a shovel handle on it, wouldn’t you?

Out of that morass, out of that septic tank of pre-adolescent hopes and dreams, washed up like dead things on the shore of no talent, hard by the smoldering caldera of suck, a champion can appear. One that has bathed so fully in the fetid essence of insipid rock music that they have become immune to it; they ride it like a hobbled stallion, a gelded centaur with emphysema; surfing it like a slow roller in a sewage treatment plant.

Beelzebub shat a Faberge egg. Attention must be paid.

Need To Update My Out Paradin’ Music

October 7, 2011 4 Comments



Of course the instrumental version of Keep on Truckin’ by Eddie Kendricks has held me in good stead for many a day when I’m out paradin’. I have bearers holding a portable music device of some sort — one to hold it and one to pay out the extension cords — who parade behind me while I truck and truckle with the passersby. I usually have a few extra out front to shove the uncool into the gutter and clear the decks. Of course when I’m in my sedan chair, I simply mount the Realistic speakers to the roof and keep my Onkyo dual cassette deck and a Marantz receiver inside with me, and alternate between a pope wave and a queen wave at the windows, with an occasional “two left hands” Egyptian motion with horizontal head bob thrown in.

But time marches, or parades, on, and I feel I need to refresh my peripatetic shimmy shanty. I’m thinking of swapping over to Uncle Rico music instead:



So unless you guys have a better idea, you best step aside when you hear that Uncle Rico train a’comin’. A woodworker is approaching.

Month: October 2011

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sippicancottage

A Man Who Has Nothing In Particular To Recommend Him Discusses All Sorts of Subjects at Random as Though He Knew Everything.

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