Archive for December, 2011

My wife is cooler than me

Which should come as no surprise to anyone who knows us. Yeah, I have a shitload of records and an encyclopediac knowledge of useless things but while I was psyched to have an FM radio Carrie was going to see The Ramones, Dead Boys, and Suicide. Even in 1974, before she was in high school she was going to see Black Oak Arkansas and Foghat. I can never catch up.

I Hate Me, Part 109,777

Went to Foodtown tonight after work to pick up some stuff for Christmas dinner. I had maybe five items and was in the “fast track” aisle. There was an older guy in front of me who was trying to figure out how to sign the charge card screen after he swiped his card. While I was waiting, my cashier and the cashier at the next counter started talking about their periods. The duration of their periods, the severity of their periods, the monthly time frame of their periods. The effects of certain types of birth control on their periods. I’m staring at the ground, willing the old guy to hurry up so I can start getting rung up by this amateur gynecologist “(thinking)Let’s Go!… Just put a fucking X on the screen with that stupid looking fake pen, Just…Fucking.. Do it, MOVE IT MOVE IT”. As the guy finally figured it out, an older woman who was just starting to get rung up by the cashier at the next counter wanted to join the cashiers conversation. “are you girls talking about… you know…” and she elaborately moved her hands in front of her crotch, not in a sexual way but in a this is the area we’re talking about, right? kind of way. She continued “…your time…down there…” The two cashiers just stared at her. “…Let me tell you something…two weeks…two…weeks, I’m not even kidding.” I guess this scared my cashier into ringing me up and I was quickly gone.

I LIKE RECORDS 58

I have nothing against the band Black 47. We don’t sell a lot of their cd’s but every now and again somebody will come in looking for them. More times then not the guy asking for them is either A) drunk or B) has never been to a store that sells cd’s. Yeah, I know record stores are going the way of “soda shoppes” and “ether frolics” but these guys (no woman has ever asked for a Black 47 cd) are at least in their forties so they know what the hell a record store is. Anyhow, Monday a little before noon this guy saunters in, a little in the bag, he makes it to the middle aisle with his face scrunched up in that “I’m thinking hard/I have to go to the bathroom” type way. I gave him a couple of seconds to figure it out…
Me-Do you need any help finding anything?
Guy-….no……………………………………………………………….

Guy-…………………………….yeah…………………………
Me-Ok..what are you looking for?
Guy-I’ll tell ya………………Black 47, ever hear of ‘em they’re………….. irish.
Me- We should have a couple of things by them
Guy- I don’t see ‘em
I start to go through the B’s and he’s on my shoulder like a co-joined twin mumbling the artists I’m flipping through. We passed a Bachman, Turner, Overdrive (BTO) cd and…
Guy-..Blackman Turner…yeah…Overdrive
Me- Excuse me, who?
Guy- You know, Blackman Turner……..the Shaft guy.
Me-…….hey, here’s the Black 47
Guy- I got those.

I Hate Me, Part 209,917

Well, i didn’t think I’d have any time to write but this pretty much just happened. Since we got back from tour I’ve been running around like crazy. End of tour accounting, merch from when I was away, going back to work, my band had a show and most importantly spending time with Carrie. This morning was a bit crazy, Carrie wasn’t feeling good and was going into work late. I had to run to the bank and the post office, do merch and go to work. I had a pile of merch to mail out in the dining room. Now for all the shit I write about the dog, she’s pretty well housebroken, but accidents do happen. I stepped in one of those accidents in the dining room. It was dark, the floor was brown, the shit was brown. I didn’t see it. Fuuuck! I took off my shoe to see the damage. As I was maneuvering to get my one shoe off I stepped in it with the other shoe. Fuuuccck!FUUUCCKKK! As I moved to get out of the shit with my other foot, I stepped in it in my sock. NOOOO! YOU FUCKIN LITTLE SHITTTT! FUCKKKK! I jumped back and the insole of the first shoe (I’m gellin’ like Stellan…….Skarsgard (If he signs as a spokesperson, i want a cut)) fell into the shit.FUCKFUCKFUCKFUUUUCCKKKNOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! This took less than thirty seconds. the final damage: 2 shoes with shit on them, 1 sock (and the foot under it) with shit on it, and a ruined insole. I really wanted to start drinking but it was 8:30 in the morning.

REPRINT: American Santa Vs. Russian Santa

[Yeah i know another goddamn reprint, but I'm completely under the gun. New stuff by monday. sorry]


American Santa Vs. Russian Santa

While going thru some of my parents’ old things, I came across a cold war era Christmas pamphlet that was distributed by the Bayonne Decency League (the BDL) entitled The American Santa Claus. Here’s an excerpt comparing the American Santa with the Russian Santa:

* The American Santa delivers toys and candy.
* The Russian Santa delivers savage beatings.

* The American Santa wears a red suit the same color as the proud red stripes of the American flag.
* The Russian Santa wears a suit stained red with the blood of innocents.

* The American Santa has friendly, patriotic reindeer pulling his sled thru the night sky.
* The Russian Santa has bloodthirsty flying wolves pulling a dilapidated prison wagon around.

* The American Santa puts toys and treats into stockings hung with care.
* The Russian Santa slops sour borscht into hollowed out peasant feet that are crudely nailed to a wall.

* The American Santa eats milk and cookies left out for him by boys and girls.
* The Russian Santa feasts on childrens dreams and drinks their frightened tears.

REPRINT: micro-refurbishing

[I just got back from tour yesterday, my band had a show last night (with Rocket From the Tombs, who were great). I am burnt. This is a reprint from February]


Doing Their Part #1: Micro-Refurbishing

From time to time we here at Ugh! like to tip our hats to people who make a difference in our society. The following is an excerpt from The Manhattaner magazine (April, 2010).
Walt Terrell is a 48 year old salesman, he’s married with two children and he lives in Brooklyn. He cares deeply for the city and he wanted to do his part. After months of planning he hit upon an idea, he’s now the face of a new movement he’s hoping will sweep the nation, Micro-Refurbishing. We’ll let Walt describe what it’s all about, “Well, most people want to help change things for the better but they don’t know where to start. They usually attempt something big, they’re going for the grand gesture and when it doesn’t happen fast enough or they encounter some obstacle they get disappointed and quit. With micro-refurbishing we start small. I’ll give you an example, the Brooklyn Bridge is a national treasure but it gets a little shabby from time to time, so over a six week period last year I refurbished a bolt on the pedestrian walkway, well not the whole bolt, just the top part. I cleaned it with a wire brush and steel wool than I primed it and painted it. Good as new, actually I think it looks better than new. It makes the city a little bit better. I know this is still a pretty new idea and it’s blowing peoples minds, but I believe in it and I’m trying to get some corporate funding to keep going with it.” Walt has set up a website for interested parties http://www.microfurb.com MICRO-REFURBISHING: THINK SMALL, THEN THINK SMALLER

the bolt that Walt refurbished

Notes from das Boot 147

Cologne,Germany
Last show, the description yesterday of packing being like putting toothpaste back in the tube was a little too nice. It’s more like ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag, and I’ve been shedding clothes this tour like a goddamn clothes snake ( a rare, non poisonous snake who wears a lot of shitty, ill fitting clothes and then throws them away when they get too offensive). Playing the Live Music Hall here. I like Cologne, they have one of my favorite art museums here (the Ludwig) and if it was earlier in the tour I would make the effort to go but today I’m just trying to make myself reasonably human. Shaved, trimmed what beard was left with my pocket knife (for that hobo chic), tried to find any clothes that dont stink of smoke or just stink. Man, I don’t even fucking know anymore. In my head I’m already home, just waiting for my body to catch up.

Notes from das Boot 146

Osnabruck, Germany
Playing a place called Hyde Park out here, a giant graffiti covered pillbox in the ass end of an industrial park. Good show in Eindhoven at Speedfest. The Sonics played, the goddamn Sonics, guys who are old enough to be my dad (and I’m gonna be fifty in February) and they fuckin’ killed. These guys are like the head of the Nile for garage rock, they were great. Wow. After a solid DJ set by Walter Roadburn, we played to an extremely sloppy drunken enthusiastic Dutch crowd. Early in the set a wheelchair bound fan started crowd surfing. I don’t know how he did it, I suspect straps were involved. Anyhow, I’m thinking “triumph of the human spirit”/Oprah moment and later on I found out that the guys’ wheelchair clocked a friend of a friend and that person is now in the hospital with a concussion. Sort of leavens the whole “triumph of the human spirit” thing. Tomorrow is pack day, after five weeks of living like an affluent hobo, I have to squeeze all my shit (including too many records) back into my suitcase, like putting toothpaste back in the tube.

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There’s a giant pentagram by the entrance of the club. I thought it was cool, it reminds Danny of Mötley Crüe, I don’t think it’s so cool anymore.

Notes from das Boot 145

Eindhoven, Netherlands
Day off yesterday. A bunch of us went into town last night to a small bar called The Rambler, it’s a local “rock” bar. There was a band playing. Now normally the thought of seeing live music on a night off is awful, but I was with a bunch of people, so… The band that was playing appeared to be a Molly Hatchet cover band, which was odd but hey it’s Europe, it’s not really supposed to make sense. Then I noticed that they were selling Molly Hatchet t-shirts, well I guess they really went in and wanted to give the crowd a real Molly Hatchet like experience. Then I realized that, holy shit it was Molly Hatchet and they were in the middle of a drum solo. At that point I didn’t really care that I was with people. Humorous or not it was shitty live music on a night off and I just left. This five week tour is about one week too long. “home in four days” is my mantra today. We’re playing Speedfest today with The Sonics, Pentagram, and The Dwarves. Cool bill even it doesn’t make sense. Spent too much money again on records, picked up among other things a few 60′s dutch-beat 45′s. Down in the hotel lobby, making a caffeine pig of myself with way too much free espresso.

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A Christmas like image. Bear with me here. Three (wise?) men looking at a broken speaker cabinet like it was a manger with non-working speaker replacing the Christ child, with screwdrivers and drills replacing gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

Notes from das Boot 144

Solothurn, Switzerland
Playing the Kofmehl club here, nice place. It’s one of he most stoned crews I’ve ever worked with, when we came in this morning it was like they were running a smoke machine of weed. The house lighting guy is good but English seems to be his third language, the first is German then a stoned patois of German/English and finally English, although his stoned English is better than my ugly american German. One of the things I try to do when we get in, is get my shit all set up (backdrop, projectors, etc) and get a basic focus before Danny our soundman starts his stuff. Danny’s day always starts with “Spanish Eyes” by Madonna, really loud and often. This is for him to sort out the local PA, he says that “Spanish Eyes” has all the frequencies he needs. Danny is a great soundman and a great guy, he’s one of the things that make life bearable out here but I fuckin hate that goddamn Madonna song so fucking much, aaauughhhh! This is followed by drum check which is another tortuous goddamned experience, but due to local light guy “Stoney Curtis” I didn’t get my shit sorted on time, and had to hear that goddamned Madonna song yet again. Three shows left.

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To the tired, slightly hungover, untrained eye it appears that both of these objects are clementines. On further inspection it turns out the object on the left is an orange hard boiled egg. I had a quick WTF moment when I initially picked it up thinking it was a clementine.

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