( 1:45 AM )
The Reverend Horton Heat
This band just never stops amazing me. These boys have been living hard on the road and rocking out like monsters for what seems like forever. I just got home from a Rochester, NY Reverend concert (my fifth I think)—on a Sunday night at Milestones—a bar way too small for tonight’s audience. To make sure I survived tonight, I missed watching some football this afternoon to take a mandatory nap before priming for the show. I remember closing my eyes thinking Green Bay was doomed and woke up when they made it a game. Before I fell asleep, I concluded that fantasy football is killing the NFL; CBS and Fox scroll way too much player info across the screen which detracts from the game. Fox’s stupid sound effects during highlights have to go too.
Anyway, about the Reverend. Drummer Scott Churilla was particularly awesome tonight. It was one of those shows where he never missed a beat. I firmly believe that a band is only as good as its drummer, and yeah Taz was great too, but Churilla absolutely jams. Jimbo played insane stand-up bass, and The Rev, after a couple of songs to warm up, blistered through “Wiggle Stick,” “400 Bucks,” and threw in Twilight Zone and classic surf riff teasers during “Big Red Rocket of Love.”
The large audience was a mixture of rockabilly types, psuedo-goths, art girls, and sweaty, smelly longhair Jack Black-types. The Rev was in a particularly chatty mood tonight and drank quite a bit. Had a blast. Me I mean. Secretly I wonder how many loud-ass heavy concerts I have left in me. I know I’ll be seeing Fu Manchu play the Continental in Buffalo on October 5th, and I’m guessing the volume will rattle my ribcage. I can’t wait, however, there’s my dreaded “Buffalo Curse” thing to worry about. You see, every time I travel an hour west to Buffalo, bad things happen to me—horrible directions, speeding tickets, snowstorms, angry Bills fans, fucked up concerts, empty gas tanks—you name it. The single worst day of my life took place in Buffalo. Someday, maybe I’ll share it.
Long Live The Reverend.
Song of the Day:
“Sweat Loaf” Butthole Surfers 1987
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( 1:20 AM )
Hawaii Vice C.S.I.
I have a totally unique idea for a new TV series called Hawaii Vice C.S.I. Unlike any other idea in television history, it follows two rogue cops cruising the beach by day and solving grisly homicides by night. Agents Colt and Smash rely on an informant named Pick Axe who has ties to the seedy Hawaii underground. Oh yeah, there’s a hot redhead forensic chick that dissects the corpses and a smarmy under-acting dude who seemingly knows everything. Then the case in sent to court—a righteous, good-looking D.A. and a feisty female assistant try these cases that litter the Hawaii court system. These are their stories.
Here’s an amazing sample:
FADE IN:
4:48 AM
In dark apartment, a cell phone rings and Colt falls out of a bed with two beautiful women and acts like Hugh Grant on wedding day trying to quickly dress himself. Smash on the other hand, has been at the crime scene for over an hour. Colt runs up to Smash and sees the horrifyingly disfigured body found by some teenagers partying in the woods.
Colt: This mans been killed.
Smash: Yes, killed by a murderer in a fit of rage.
Colt: I’ll talk to Bubbles the stripper to see if she knows anything.
Smash: Good. I’ll talk to Pick Axe to see if he knows anything.
Colt: One things for sure—this ain’t helping my hangover!
Smash: Just wait till Master Robins finds out you slept with his niece tonight!
Colt: And her hot brunette friend too!
Smash: Brunette? Wait a minute! That’s my sister!
Smash chases after Colt who gets away in a red Porsche.
FADE OUT:
Pure gold I tell you.
Song of the Day:
“Watcha See is What You Get” The Dramatics 1971
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( 1:18 AM )
This Is My Anybody Benefit
With apologies to the band Templeton, I have a ridiculously huge request for anyone who takes time to read this nonsense.
You see, as a decades-long Chargers fan residing in upstate NY, I’ve always wanted to watch a game in San Diego at the Murph. A good friend of mine who worships the Raiders recently suggested that we should attend this year’s Chargers/Raiders game in San Diego on Halloween. The plan has lined up fine thus far with the exception of game tickets.
Apparently every year Oakland fans buy all the tickets and terrorize the city of San Diego, so to buy tickets for this one game you must also purchase tickets for additional Charger games.
Anyhow, if you or someone you know can help make a dream come true for my friend and I, please let me know. Something on the 50-yard line on the shaded side of the stadium would be outstanding. Thank you.
Song of the Day:
“Gimme Some Money” Spinal Tap 1965
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( 11:22 PM )
Sweet Revenge is Mine
In late August my dad had a letter printed in the Rochester, NY newspaper the Democrat & Chronicle. Simply put, he was mainly upset that gay marriage announcements are being listed in the paper along with “traditional” marriages. The next day I submitted the following retort to the D&C. Needless to say, the paper never had the guts to print it. Love ya, dad.
Dear Editor:
Unlike my father who had a letter printed here denouncing gay marriage, I don’t see what the furor is all about. Most people have certainly gotten over the shock of interracial marriages between men and women-- why can’t we get past the thought of say, two men marrying?
I have but one small condition if a couple of guys want to get married—they’ve got to prove that their gay, because this country just can’t have frat brothers accidentally getting hitched on wild & crazy drinking binges in Vegas. Why, it would destroy the sanctity of the institution seeing as how heterosexuals have totally perfected it.
Political Crap
“Three weeks we’ve been talking about the Platt Amendment. What are you people-- on dope?” Mr. Hand
Tonight’s 60 Minutes has finally, fully exposed that Bush was a military slacker fudging paperwork and telling OJ service stories all these years. And as for Kerry, I don’t care that he’s got medals for his war service, the point is that he was in Vietnam and Bush wasn’t. Take it for whatever it’s worth and move on. What are you people? Ah…
I also can’t stand watching excerpts of Bush and Kerry preaching to crowds and tearing each other down every night on the news. My biggest peeve though, is that at all these campaign stops, hundreds of supporters are screaming and squealing and carrying on like lunatics. This isn’t KISS live in Detroit, it’s a small, elfin-like man with sweaty armpits shaking hands and kissing babies in a cornfield. What’s the hubbub? Wake me when the debates begin. And lastly, to all the pear-shaped ladies who design their own sweaters with stars and stripes bedazzler themes on them--they totally have to go. You look like dadburn fools.
Song of the Day:
“Comfortably Numb” Pink Floyd 1979
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