Sunday, November 27, 2011
Thursday, August 19, 2010
The Ramones vs Styx, Journey, and REO
Hello friends,
When I was in high school my friends usta give me a hard time about being a Ramones fan. They would joke about how weird Joey looked and would imitate the 1-2-3-4 count like Corky from 'Life Goes On' was calling it out. Now, they were listening to sorry crap like Styx, Journey, and REO Speedwagon. For some stupid reason they thought that was good music. See, the corporate big shots brain washed their tiny pea brains in the 'tiny pea brain, brain washing conspiracy of the 1970's' conspiracy back in the 70's. They couldn't help it cause they got tiny pea brains. Anyway, now that time has passed and I can look back, I can see just how tiny their brains actually were and how I had super future X-ray vision for cool junk. It was obvious to me cause The Ramones didn't have kinky perms or write a song about their hair dresser Mr. Roberto like that girl singer for Styx did (That is a true story about the song Mr. Roboto. How sick and sad is that?) The Ramones didn't cancel a gazillion shows cause their throats were sore like that girl singer for Journey did(The Ramones played 2,263 shows, roughly as many as The Grateful Dead) The Ramones didn't wear tight spandex pants on their big fat asses like that girl guitar player for REO did (The Ramones wore jeans with holes in the knees) The Ramones didn't play state fairs, revival shows, or the Wind Jammer in East Tulsa like those three slugs. The Ramones didn't have some stupid band name that some num-skull thought sounded cool, like Boston, Foreigner, or Supertramp (The Ramones got the band name from a story that Paul McCartney called himself Paul Ramone when the Beatles were playing the bars in Hamburg, Germany before they were famous. See, that way some young fraulein couldn't track him down if he knocked her up. That's why they all took the last name Ramone as well) A few years back some one decided to put together a Ramones tribute album and the likes of U2, Pearl Jam, Kiss, Metallica, Marylin Manson, The Red Hot Chile Peppers, Foo Fighters, Rancid, Green Day, The Offspring, Rob Zombie, Garbage, The Pretenders, and Tom Waits all recorded songs for it. Hell, Joey Ramone has a street named after him in New York City, and the nations largest metropolis celebrated Joey Ramone day ta-boot. That's a little different than having a dirt road named after you and a wing-dig that evening in Afton or Pawhuska. The Ramones raised several hundred thousand dollars for the 911 families, did benefits for the homeless, and even gave money to by Kevlar for the New York City Police Department. The Ramones were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame on their first ballot in 2002. Those other three bands haven't even been nominated.
Just because a singer has a 6 octave voice or a guitar player can run scales up and down the neck of his guitar to beat the band, doesn't mean their any good. As a friend of mine said to some jack ass who was bashing the Ramones "Rock and roll isn't about great musicians, it's about great music." Well said, friend. He wasn't one of my tiny pea brained friends.
Adios,
~e~
When I was in high school my friends usta give me a hard time about being a Ramones fan. They would joke about how weird Joey looked and would imitate the 1-2-3-4 count like Corky from 'Life Goes On' was calling it out. Now, they were listening to sorry crap like Styx, Journey, and REO Speedwagon. For some stupid reason they thought that was good music. See, the corporate big shots brain washed their tiny pea brains in the 'tiny pea brain, brain washing conspiracy of the 1970's' conspiracy back in the 70's. They couldn't help it cause they got tiny pea brains. Anyway, now that time has passed and I can look back, I can see just how tiny their brains actually were and how I had super future X-ray vision for cool junk. It was obvious to me cause The Ramones didn't have kinky perms or write a song about their hair dresser Mr. Roberto like that girl singer for Styx did (That is a true story about the song Mr. Roboto. How sick and sad is that?) The Ramones didn't cancel a gazillion shows cause their throats were sore like that girl singer for Journey did(The Ramones played 2,263 shows, roughly as many as The Grateful Dead) The Ramones didn't wear tight spandex pants on their big fat asses like that girl guitar player for REO did (The Ramones wore jeans with holes in the knees) The Ramones didn't play state fairs, revival shows, or the Wind Jammer in East Tulsa like those three slugs. The Ramones didn't have some stupid band name that some num-skull thought sounded cool, like Boston, Foreigner, or Supertramp (The Ramones got the band name from a story that Paul McCartney called himself Paul Ramone when the Beatles were playing the bars in Hamburg, Germany before they were famous. See, that way some young fraulein couldn't track him down if he knocked her up. That's why they all took the last name Ramone as well) A few years back some one decided to put together a Ramones tribute album and the likes of U2, Pearl Jam, Kiss, Metallica, Marylin Manson, The Red Hot Chile Peppers, Foo Fighters, Rancid, Green Day, The Offspring, Rob Zombie, Garbage, The Pretenders, and Tom Waits all recorded songs for it. Hell, Joey Ramone has a street named after him in New York City, and the nations largest metropolis celebrated Joey Ramone day ta-boot. That's a little different than having a dirt road named after you and a wing-dig that evening in Afton or Pawhuska. The Ramones raised several hundred thousand dollars for the 911 families, did benefits for the homeless, and even gave money to by Kevlar for the New York City Police Department. The Ramones were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame on their first ballot in 2002. Those other three bands haven't even been nominated.
Just because a singer has a 6 octave voice or a guitar player can run scales up and down the neck of his guitar to beat the band, doesn't mean their any good. As a friend of mine said to some jack ass who was bashing the Ramones "Rock and roll isn't about great musicians, it's about great music." Well said, friend. He wasn't one of my tiny pea brained friends.
Adios,
~e~
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Where Have All The Little Monkey Kisses Gone?
Hello friends, How do people fall in love? I mean, what is it inside us that makes us have that 'goofy way you feel' feeling for another person? Is it some kind of endorphin that makes you happy when you see that person walk in to the room? What causes you to get that weird, spongy sensation in your stomach when that special person smiles at you? And I mean that smile where you know they are feeling the same way you are. What makes you dizzy when you have been in Louisiana doing hurricane Katrina clean up and on the return trip home the bus carrying the volunteers breaks down at 2:30 in the morning just 30 miles south of Tulsa and when she comes to pick you up she gets out of the car and runs to you and jumps in your arms and raps her legs around your waist then gives you a million little monkey kisses all over your face on the side of the highway as the semi trucks roar by? Could it be a chemical imbalance that makes you feel that way for that certain someone and not feel that way for someone else?
So, after going throw all of that malarkey, how do some people wind up losing that feeling for one another? Do those little electrical sparks stop jumping around your brain after a while? How do things that usta make them laugh, all of a sudden make them mad? How does a hero turn into a villain? How do monkey kisses turn in to kicks in the balls? (metaphorically speaking) Now to begin with, the answers to these questions are not the answers I'm really looking for. But you see, you have to answer those questions, to get to the question that I want the answer to. What I really want to know is, how does a wonderful, skipping through the daisies, dancing on a star, kind of love some how turn in to hating my stupid guts?
'The wind of fate has pried us loose..'
Adios,
~e~
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Franny Beecher
Hello friends,
As much as I love all the founding fathers of rock guitar, like Carl Perkins, Link Wray, Scotty Moore, Chuck Berry, Cliff Gallup, and Paul Burlison, nobody, and I mean nobody, tore it up like Franny Beecher. Next time you here Rock Around the Clock, listen to the lead guitar. It's blistering. Nobody was playing like that back then.
I got the pleasure and honor to meet Mr. Beecher about ten years ago at the Jackson Rockabilly Festival in Jackson Tennessee (Home of Carl Perkins) He was a wonderful guy who spent several minutes talking to me about what ever I wanted to talk about. Think about it, this cat was there at the start. He is one of the guys responsible for all this rock and roll business. From the Beatles to the Sex Pistols, Led Zeppelin to Nirvana, The Rolling Stones to Green Day, and everything in between. But I wasn't sure if I wanted to see him preform. He was in his eighties and like the dumb ass that I am, I thought he probably couldn't play very well any more, and I didn't want to see that. Well, Mr. Beecher got to join the long list of people who have proved me wrong. He destroyed that guitar. Smoked it. It was amazing.
Adios,
~e~
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Does God Have A Sense Of Humor?
Hello friends,
Does God have a sense of humor? You bet your sweet ass he does. I'll prove it to you. Now, the last couple of years have been pretty tough. I won't go in to all of it now, just take my word for it. Well, I started to clean out my garage yesterday. My garage is not hooked up to the house, it's kinda stuck in my back yard. The driveway runs from the street, up past the house, through the gate to the garage. So, I pulled everything out of the garage and on to the driveway or in the back yard. A friend stopped by and we played some darts (real darts) where I promptly got spanked every single game. I never returned to the garage cleanin'. I get up this morning to find out it rained last night. Most of my stuff was in plastic totes with out the lids. So my stuff didn't just get wet, it got to soak. The other stuff was in card board boxes, which fell apart and left everything in the grass or on the wet concrete. I had a full rack of cloths, records, CD's, movies, electronic stuff, tools, photos, some of my paintings, etc. Most of it is ruined. I felt like it was the last straw. I thought I was going to cry. Then I hear thunder, so I'm trying to get most of it back in the garage. As I'm bringing the last rain filled tote in, I'm pushing another box on the floor over with my bare foot to make room for the one I'm holding. As I'm doing this one of those fold up metal carts, used to haul files and office things around, falls over and mashes my toes. Now you tell me, does God have a sense of humor or what?
I'm tied.
Adios my friends,
~e~
Does God have a sense of humor? You bet your sweet ass he does. I'll prove it to you. Now, the last couple of years have been pretty tough. I won't go in to all of it now, just take my word for it. Well, I started to clean out my garage yesterday. My garage is not hooked up to the house, it's kinda stuck in my back yard. The driveway runs from the street, up past the house, through the gate to the garage. So, I pulled everything out of the garage and on to the driveway or in the back yard. A friend stopped by and we played some darts (real darts) where I promptly got spanked every single game. I never returned to the garage cleanin'. I get up this morning to find out it rained last night. Most of my stuff was in plastic totes with out the lids. So my stuff didn't just get wet, it got to soak. The other stuff was in card board boxes, which fell apart and left everything in the grass or on the wet concrete. I had a full rack of cloths, records, CD's, movies, electronic stuff, tools, photos, some of my paintings, etc. Most of it is ruined. I felt like it was the last straw. I thought I was going to cry. Then I hear thunder, so I'm trying to get most of it back in the garage. As I'm bringing the last rain filled tote in, I'm pushing another box on the floor over with my bare foot to make room for the one I'm holding. As I'm doing this one of those fold up metal carts, used to haul files and office things around, falls over and mashes my toes. Now you tell me, does God have a sense of humor or what?
I'm tied.
Adios my friends,
~e~
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Virtual Darts General Patton vs.Hansel and Gretel
Hello friends,
Well, I'm a little pissed, a little disappointed, and a little hurt, but I'm more pissed than the other two. There is something that I haven't told y'all...cause...well...it's a little embarrassing. You see, I play virtual darts on-line, and well, I am ranked number one in the world. I'm the only American in the top ten. That is the Gods honest truth, number one. The good part is that it makes me zero dollarinos, zilch. So I don't have to worry about taxes and what to spend the money on, so that's nice. Finally something I'm good at...virtual darts...wow. Now for the last few weeks I've been hanging around 6th, give or take a place, but I have played over my head lately and made the big push to the first spot yesterday. So what, big deal right? Right. But what I'm writing about is how the damned Germans have turned on me. These two dudes, who have been the big guns forever, and who were nice as hell when they were spanking my little red, white, and blue ass blue, have started talking all kinds of trash. Like I shouldn't be # 1 cause I'm not good and how I got lucky and so on. One even called me a bitch. Now, Hansel and Gretel (as I call them) have no idea who they are messin' with. First I'm a Merican, by God. (I meant to drop the 'A' cause that's how I say it...Merican) Second, I'm an Okie. I don't care what you say, the biggest sissy form Oklahoma will beat the ever lovin' tar out of some pretzel bendin', lieder hosen wearin', Heidi from Hamburg...sorry I got off on a tangent. Anyway, those idiots thought they could have a war of words with me, the General Patton of the come back and I always cross that line. I asked one of them if they had ever won a war they started. I said it seems that y'all are good about starting things but can't seem to follow through. I told the other that I think my uncle shot his Grampa at Normandy and cut his ear off and wore it on a necklace and he brought his G'pa's blood stained helmet back and gave it to the retarded neighbor kid down the street who used it for a urinal. I asked them why the worn girls bikini bottoms when they went swimming. I said Americans couldn't wear those because it wouldn't cover our huge.......well, you know. I asked how it felt to know that there relatives were all big losers and quitters. Oh, they were big men in Poland but that didn't last long. I told them they probably have American blood cause all the Frauleins were sleeping with our GI's...and who could blame them when all they had were bikini bottom wearers. I commended them on there bang up job with the 1972 Olympic hostage situation. Who was head of security, col. Klink? And on and on and on. They don't like me much. Shouldn't have called me a bitch.
Adios,
~e~
Well, I'm a little pissed, a little disappointed, and a little hurt, but I'm more pissed than the other two. There is something that I haven't told y'all...cause...well...it's a little embarrassing. You see, I play virtual darts on-line, and well, I am ranked number one in the world. I'm the only American in the top ten. That is the Gods honest truth, number one. The good part is that it makes me zero dollarinos, zilch. So I don't have to worry about taxes and what to spend the money on, so that's nice. Finally something I'm good at...virtual darts...wow. Now for the last few weeks I've been hanging around 6th, give or take a place, but I have played over my head lately and made the big push to the first spot yesterday. So what, big deal right? Right. But what I'm writing about is how the damned Germans have turned on me. These two dudes, who have been the big guns forever, and who were nice as hell when they were spanking my little red, white, and blue ass blue, have started talking all kinds of trash. Like I shouldn't be # 1 cause I'm not good and how I got lucky and so on. One even called me a bitch. Now, Hansel and Gretel (as I call them) have no idea who they are messin' with. First I'm a Merican, by God. (I meant to drop the 'A' cause that's how I say it...Merican) Second, I'm an Okie. I don't care what you say, the biggest sissy form Oklahoma will beat the ever lovin' tar out of some pretzel bendin', lieder hosen wearin', Heidi from Hamburg...sorry I got off on a tangent. Anyway, those idiots thought they could have a war of words with me, the General Patton of the come back and I always cross that line. I asked one of them if they had ever won a war they started. I said it seems that y'all are good about starting things but can't seem to follow through. I told the other that I think my uncle shot his Grampa at Normandy and cut his ear off and wore it on a necklace and he brought his G'pa's blood stained helmet back and gave it to the retarded neighbor kid down the street who used it for a urinal. I asked them why the worn girls bikini bottoms when they went swimming. I said Americans couldn't wear those because it wouldn't cover our huge.......well, you know. I asked how it felt to know that there relatives were all big losers and quitters. Oh, they were big men in Poland but that didn't last long. I told them they probably have American blood cause all the Frauleins were sleeping with our GI's...and who could blame them when all they had were bikini bottom wearers. I commended them on there bang up job with the 1972 Olympic hostage situation. Who was head of security, col. Klink? And on and on and on. They don't like me much. Shouldn't have called me a bitch.
Adios,
~e~
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Independence Day
---------------------------God bless America!!! Hello friends,
Well, the 4th of July is a only a short month away and since I didn't get any Memorial Day lake invites, I have no delusions of getting one for Independence Day either. I don't matter cause I got plans already. Very important plans doing very important junk, so don't waist your time. Now, I have always kinda fancied myself a bit of a comedian. I like to pull gags and such. Everybody loves my pranks. I have an old friend that thinks it's hilarious when I make fun of him. He laughs for hours. So, here is a joke for you to do at what ever shin-dig your shin-diggin' at.
What you'll need:
1) One small American flag on a stick
2) One kazoo
3) One sparkler
4) One pair of those glasses with the big springy eye balls
5) One Flowerdy Hi-y-yan shirt
OK, after everyone has had a few adult beverages, you kinda slip into the shadows. Put on the glasses (4) Put the kazoo (2) in your mouth. Now, when you see the wife of the host of the party, wait untill her back is towards you then take off your pants. I mean strip down to nothin' but leave the flowerdy Hi-y-yan shirt (5) on. Lite the sparkler (3) and pick up the flag (1) (*note* Do NOT lite the sparkler (3) before you take off your drawers, cause you will burn your nuts when you are a slidin'um off. Trust me on this, OK, I know) Where was I? Oh yeah, Then you run up behind the wife of the host, wavin' that flag, whippin' that sparkler to and fro, hummin' 'My Sharona' on the kazoo, all the while your humpin' her back side to beat the band. I'm tellin' y'all, everyone will be in stitches. I did this gag at the last 4th of July party I was invited to, oh I guess it was in 86, and they are still talking about it. Man, what a night....wheeew!
This ain't the Knack, this is HooDoo Gurus doin' 'Like Wow Wipe Out' I love this tune.
Well, the 4th of July is a only a short month away and since I didn't get any Memorial Day lake invites, I have no delusions of getting one for Independence Day either. I don't matter cause I got plans already. Very important plans doing very important junk, so don't waist your time. Now, I have always kinda fancied myself a bit of a comedian. I like to pull gags and such. Everybody loves my pranks. I have an old friend that thinks it's hilarious when I make fun of him. He laughs for hours. So, here is a joke for you to do at what ever shin-dig your shin-diggin' at.
What you'll need:
1) One small American flag on a stick
2) One kazoo
3) One sparkler
4) One pair of those glasses with the big springy eye balls
5) One Flowerdy Hi-y-yan shirt
OK, after everyone has had a few adult beverages, you kinda slip into the shadows. Put on the glasses (4) Put the kazoo (2) in your mouth. Now, when you see the wife of the host of the party, wait untill her back is towards you then take off your pants. I mean strip down to nothin' but leave the flowerdy Hi-y-yan shirt (5) on. Lite the sparkler (3) and pick up the flag (1) (*note* Do NOT lite the sparkler (3) before you take off your drawers, cause you will burn your nuts when you are a slidin'um off. Trust me on this, OK, I know) Where was I? Oh yeah, Then you run up behind the wife of the host, wavin' that flag, whippin' that sparkler to and fro, hummin' 'My Sharona' on the kazoo, all the while your humpin' her back side to beat the band. I'm tellin' y'all, everyone will be in stitches. I did this gag at the last 4th of July party I was invited to, oh I guess it was in 86, and they are still talking about it. Man, what a night....wheeew!
This ain't the Knack, this is HooDoo Gurus doin' 'Like Wow Wipe Out' I love this tune.
Adios,
~e~
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