Claudia Boulton
8 years ago
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Timmy "Main Man" Toner - A Photo Retrospective
Timmy Tomer, as if you didn't know, is the greatest musician since Jerome Green and the best pen since Al Jaffee, because he says so god-dammit! Ladies man, beer bonger, and my favorite center of attention, I believe that these photos tell the story better than I ever could.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Jamesage Odyssey, Prelude
Today we bid "see ya later" to one of the biggest, best, and brightest Wilmington has to offer. My man James Yetter aka Jamesage aka Saint James is in the medical profession, a RN to be exact, and a travelling nurse to be exacter. Originally slated to heal folks out in sunny San Diego, James is going where he is needed and on his way down to Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
I first met James at the punk shows prevalent in Wilmington in the 1990's. He was friends with Billy Fetters, Frank Pater and Zogby, collectively known as the Corporate Music Bastards. CMB did one legendary seven inch entitled "We Just Do It For the Money" that they released themselves and the Huffer and I were lucky enough to sing back-up on, along with James. We started chillin' at the Ranch House on Concord Pike, as was fashionable at the time, as well as the tracks behind St. Edmond's, and soon became fast friends.
It really blossomed when James lived in the neighboring dorm to me and Huffer in 1999. James' room at the Christiana Towers saw some of the grandest debauchery in University of Delaware history, including the frequently nude "Main Man" Timmy Toner (photo omitted) and a couch that tried to eat me one night. In this room I learned the subtleties of Tekken 3, like how you can beat Zack one time, but one time only, and the infinite wonders of Chex Mix.
A couple years later I decided that I wasn't gonna drink alcohol no mo, and in one of the coolest, solidest, most dudely actions one has ever taken on my behalf, Jamesage abstained in sympathy with me for a whole year, and manned the wheel when my car was wrecked, leading to some of the best good, clean fun I've ever had. For instance, last night we hit up Wilmington's Polish festival on the Riverfront with Murph, who is half Polish at 40%, and enjoyed mad of groove-tones from the Philly Horn Band and delicious placki (potato pancakes, add sour cream), paczki (donuts! - apricot filled), and golobki (stuffed cabbage). We was too full to ride the open-air gravitron.
James is really a generous friend who has a better time when you're having a good time, and never balked to spot me on beer or brisket. Whether I'm basking in the glow of the BBQ or an Eagles win, or the rare Smoking Popes number, I'll be thinking about ya, James. May the bayou enrich you as much as you will it. -Dan
I first met James at the punk shows prevalent in Wilmington in the 1990's. He was friends with Billy Fetters, Frank Pater and Zogby, collectively known as the Corporate Music Bastards. CMB did one legendary seven inch entitled "We Just Do It For the Money" that they released themselves and the Huffer and I were lucky enough to sing back-up on, along with James. We started chillin' at the Ranch House on Concord Pike, as was fashionable at the time, as well as the tracks behind St. Edmond's, and soon became fast friends.
It really blossomed when James lived in the neighboring dorm to me and Huffer in 1999. James' room at the Christiana Towers saw some of the grandest debauchery in University of Delaware history, including the frequently nude "Main Man" Timmy Toner (photo omitted) and a couch that tried to eat me one night. In this room I learned the subtleties of Tekken 3, like how you can beat Zack one time, but one time only, and the infinite wonders of Chex Mix.
A couple years later I decided that I wasn't gonna drink alcohol no mo, and in one of the coolest, solidest, most dudely actions one has ever taken on my behalf, Jamesage abstained in sympathy with me for a whole year, and manned the wheel when my car was wrecked, leading to some of the best good, clean fun I've ever had. For instance, last night we hit up Wilmington's Polish festival on the Riverfront with Murph, who is half Polish at 40%, and enjoyed mad of groove-tones from the Philly Horn Band and delicious placki (potato pancakes, add sour cream), paczki (donuts! - apricot filled), and golobki (stuffed cabbage). We was too full to ride the open-air gravitron.
James is really a generous friend who has a better time when you're having a good time, and never balked to spot me on beer or brisket. Whether I'm basking in the glow of the BBQ or an Eagles win, or the rare Smoking Popes number, I'll be thinking about ya, James. May the bayou enrich you as much as you will it. -Dan
Home Run Derby!! Mantle v. Mays!!
Hands down the best episode of the best baseball-themed game show with actual major leaguers, 1959's "Home Run Derby" starring Willie Mays vs. Mickey Mantle. They won actual checks based on who hit the most ($2000) and consecutive jacks hit. As host Mark Scott will gladly explain, the only rule that matters is that "It's a home run or nothing here on Home Run Derby." Far superior to today's multi-player All-Star affair. The entire series is now available on DVD.
Part 1
Part 2
Bummer, I can't find part 3! Let's buy the DVD, huh Karly!?!
Part 1
Part 2
Bummer, I can't find part 3! Let's buy the DVD, huh Karly!?!
A Message from the Soda Pop Board of America
For my start in politics (which I have been carefully planning) I have landed a covetted position on the Soda Pop Board of America, 1515 W. Hart Ave. Chicago, Illinois.
"For a better start in life start cola earlier! How soon is too soon? According to the SPBA, not soon enough. Laboratory tests over the last few years have proven that babies who start drinking soda during that early formative period have a much higher chance of gaining acceptance and "fitting in" during those awkward pre-teen and teen years. Do yourself a favor. Start them on a strict regimen of sodas and other sugary carbonated beverages right now, for a lifetime of garaunteed happiness."
"For a better start in life start cola earlier! How soon is too soon? According to the SPBA, not soon enough. Laboratory tests over the last few years have proven that babies who start drinking soda during that early formative period have a much higher chance of gaining acceptance and "fitting in" during those awkward pre-teen and teen years. Do yourself a favor. Start them on a strict regimen of sodas and other sugary carbonated beverages right now, for a lifetime of garaunteed happiness."
Mom Mom Robinson and Senator Joe Biden
Last Sunday I was lucky enough to spend some time with my mom-mom Robinson in between cool-pool swimmin' and succulent ribs. She is a West Virgina gal who moved up to Delaware during WWII to find good work, and subsequently my grand-pop, Reese Carpenter Robinson. Originally Margaret Grey, she is one of a double digit siblings and the bearer of my proud Cherokee blood. I get a lot of enlightenment (and occasional accent) from her, and this Sunday was no exception.
She made her post-war living by making slip covers, elegant coverings to make your couch or what-not look nice for years to come! She told me a story about when she made slip covers for a young City Counselman named Joe Biden in 1972. She said he was absolutely a wonderful man and all three of his kids and first wife were so sweet and genuine. (It wouldn't be long until Biden would lose his wife and youngest child, his daughter in a car crash.) Mom-mom said that they were very poor and his couch was so rickety that she was taken aback. She asked him about material and design and what he would like his living room couch to look like, and Mr. Biden simply told her he wanted it to look like the couch in the oval office. I felt a bit faint as she went on to tell me that years later she attended a senior civics meeting that Senator Biden was speaking at, and upon his egress he saw my mom-mom and split with his group, making his way over to her. This is decades later, and Joe Biden recognized and made a point of greeting my grandmother and in fact telling her and all her friends about the couch she had made for him all those years ago, and how his son Beau had taken it to college with him.
This is just one of the reasons that we in Delaware are so proud of our Senator, and find him to be the crucial and exciting final piece of the Democratic ticket. He is the bricks in Wilmington's sidewalks, and proudly indicative of the people he represents. And that is why my Southern Baptist mom-mom is voting Democrat.
She made her post-war living by making slip covers, elegant coverings to make your couch or what-not look nice for years to come! She told me a story about when she made slip covers for a young City Counselman named Joe Biden in 1972. She said he was absolutely a wonderful man and all three of his kids and first wife were so sweet and genuine. (It wouldn't be long until Biden would lose his wife and youngest child, his daughter in a car crash.) Mom-mom said that they were very poor and his couch was so rickety that she was taken aback. She asked him about material and design and what he would like his living room couch to look like, and Mr. Biden simply told her he wanted it to look like the couch in the oval office. I felt a bit faint as she went on to tell me that years later she attended a senior civics meeting that Senator Biden was speaking at, and upon his egress he saw my mom-mom and split with his group, making his way over to her. This is decades later, and Joe Biden recognized and made a point of greeting my grandmother and in fact telling her and all her friends about the couch she had made for him all those years ago, and how his son Beau had taken it to college with him.
This is just one of the reasons that we in Delaware are so proud of our Senator, and find him to be the crucial and exciting final piece of the Democratic ticket. He is the bricks in Wilmington's sidewalks, and proudly indicative of the people he represents. And that is why my Southern Baptist mom-mom is voting Democrat.
It's a Super-Man's World Lyric Sheet
"It's a Superman's World"
by Dan Robinson
Up, up, up... up, up and away now! x4
It's hard to smoke an eighth a day.
When you haven't got a penny to yer name.
I do it anyway.
Male child of the stars with the Marvel Monkey seed.
I'll give it to my girl if we decide to breed.
When I try and rub her back my palms open up and bleed.
Touchin' K circuits gonna gimmee what I need.
Up, up, up... up, up and away now! x4
I'm an alium from outer space.
Super-powered by Earth's sun's yellow rays.
It fuckin' feels great.
I spent most of last year playin' bass on Earth-2.
I see myself with short hair, my continuity is screwed.
I don't wanna be Bizarro, me am self-overcome dude.
Don't come into my pad if yer Kryptonite is blue.
Up, up, up... up, up and away now! x4
If I'm just a drawing on a page,
Then how come I feel so much pain?
It'll go away.
I like myself and I like my mom and dad.
I like Saturn Girl and I like Lightning Lad.
I alone decide what is good and what is bad.
It's a Superman's world and the rest are fuckin' fads.
Up, up, up... up, up, up and away!
"That's All I Need"
by Todd Purse
Hangin' out on a Friday night.
I play my guitar and I'm feelin' alright.
I don't wanna go out tonight,
Cause I got my baby by my side.
And that's all I need:
A little bit of you and a lot of weed.
That's all I need! x 2
I'm on the corner again.
It's almost half past ten.
My dude will be here soon.
Then we'll go back to my room.
And that's all I need:
A little bit of you and a lot of weed.
That's all I need! x 2
When I'm in my room,
And I'm thinkin' 'bout you.
And when I'm all alone,
You know what I wanna do... c'mon now!
Third verse same as the first!
Hangin' out on a Friday night.
I play my guitar and I'm feelin' alright.
I don't wanna go out tonight,
Cause I got my baby by my side.
And that's all I need:
A little bit of you and a lot of weed.
That's all I need! x 2
"Do the Gremlin"
by Dan Robinson
All us little gremlins at the shorty blast.
(Do the Gremlin! Oh, Do the Gremlin!)
Drinkin' down baby sham from a dirty glass.
(Do the Gremlin! Oh, Do the Gremlin!)
No health insurance but our cuts heal fast.
All us dirty gremlins at the honey hive.
(Do the Gremlin! Oh, Do the Gremlin!)
I stand up tall cause I got gremlin pride.
(Do the Gremlin! Oh, Do the Gremlin!)
I wear dark glasses cause bright lights hurt my eyes.
All us junky gremlins at the AA meet.
(Do the Gremlin! Oh, Do the Gremlin!)
I wear a leather jacket and candy's all I eat.
(Do the Gremlin! Oh, Do the Gremlin!)
Fuck you I got dancin' gremlin feet!
"Lipstick Lunatic"
by Todd Purse
When yer out on the street,
Everbody wants to be with you.
When yer hangin' at the show,
All the boys wanna know about you.
Lipstick lunatic, she's all dolled up.
Lipstick lunatic, she's just don't give a fuck.
She's so fine, all the time.
But boy watch yer back,
Cause you never know when she's gonna attack.
Look out!
Young girl filled with rage,
that kinda love should be locked in a cage.
And she don't care about you.
Never stoppin', never slow down,
She's out on the town.
And she don't give a fuck about you.
Lipstick lunatic, she's all dolled up.
Lipstick lunatic, she's all that I want.
She's so rad, and she treats me bad.
But she's the best little girl that I've ever had.
Alright now!
"Not a Heartbreaker No Mo"
by Dan Robinson and Todd Purse
Johnny Thunders, what'd you do,
When life's problems got to you?
I take the drugs and I drink the booze,
But I guess I just ain't born to lose.
Cause I don't wanna be a heartbreaker no more.
So come on baby please, and get with me on the floor.
Come on pretty baby. Come on baby doll.
Let's get together... be the best that they ever saw.
I'm not a heartbreaker no mo, oh oh!
No I'm not a heartbreaker no mo.
I wipe the glitter out of my eyes.
Lettin' all them little girles cry.
Askin' themselves, "Why, oh why?"
But ya gotta have thighs to be a girlfriend of mine.
And I don't wanna be a heartbreaker no more.
So come on baby please, let it be me you adore.
Come on pretty baby. Come on baby doll.
Let's get together... be the best that they ever saw.
I'm not a heartbreaker no mo, oh oh!
No I'm not a heartbreaker no mo.
"Sugar Snack Shuffle"
by Todd Purse
If yer tryin' to forget tonight,
Grab a donut and take a bite.
All the kids are startin' to get down.
Eatin' that sweet sugar by the pound.
Now everybody knows that:
All the kids are doin' the Sugar Snack Shuffle.
Havin' fun but don't mind startin' trouble.
It don't suck like disco and the Hustle.
Everbody's doin' the Sugar Snack Shuffle!
If yer baby ain't treatin' been you right.
Runnin' round and stayin' out all night.
Grab a milkshake, c'mon chug it down.
Sugar's gonna wipe away that frown. (Yeah it is!)
Now everybody knows that:
All the kids are doin' the Sugar Snack Shuffle.
Havin' fun but don't mind startin' trouble.
It don't suck like disco and the Hustle.
Everbody's doin' the Sugar Snack Shuffle!
All songs copyright Dan Robinson and Todd Purse 2008 and published by Danthology Music. Word.
by Dan Robinson
Up, up, up... up, up and away now! x4
It's hard to smoke an eighth a day.
When you haven't got a penny to yer name.
I do it anyway.
Male child of the stars with the Marvel Monkey seed.
I'll give it to my girl if we decide to breed.
When I try and rub her back my palms open up and bleed.
Touchin' K circuits gonna gimmee what I need.
Up, up, up... up, up and away now! x4
I'm an alium from outer space.
Super-powered by Earth's sun's yellow rays.
It fuckin' feels great.
I spent most of last year playin' bass on Earth-2.
I see myself with short hair, my continuity is screwed.
I don't wanna be Bizarro, me am self-overcome dude.
Don't come into my pad if yer Kryptonite is blue.
Up, up, up... up, up and away now! x4
If I'm just a drawing on a page,
Then how come I feel so much pain?
It'll go away.
I like myself and I like my mom and dad.
I like Saturn Girl and I like Lightning Lad.
I alone decide what is good and what is bad.
It's a Superman's world and the rest are fuckin' fads.
Up, up, up... up, up, up and away!
"That's All I Need"
by Todd Purse
Hangin' out on a Friday night.
I play my guitar and I'm feelin' alright.
I don't wanna go out tonight,
Cause I got my baby by my side.
And that's all I need:
A little bit of you and a lot of weed.
That's all I need! x 2
I'm on the corner again.
It's almost half past ten.
My dude will be here soon.
Then we'll go back to my room.
And that's all I need:
A little bit of you and a lot of weed.
That's all I need! x 2
When I'm in my room,
And I'm thinkin' 'bout you.
And when I'm all alone,
You know what I wanna do... c'mon now!
Third verse same as the first!
Hangin' out on a Friday night.
I play my guitar and I'm feelin' alright.
I don't wanna go out tonight,
Cause I got my baby by my side.
And that's all I need:
A little bit of you and a lot of weed.
That's all I need! x 2
"Do the Gremlin"
by Dan Robinson
All us little gremlins at the shorty blast.
(Do the Gremlin! Oh, Do the Gremlin!)
Drinkin' down baby sham from a dirty glass.
(Do the Gremlin! Oh, Do the Gremlin!)
No health insurance but our cuts heal fast.
All us dirty gremlins at the honey hive.
(Do the Gremlin! Oh, Do the Gremlin!)
I stand up tall cause I got gremlin pride.
(Do the Gremlin! Oh, Do the Gremlin!)
I wear dark glasses cause bright lights hurt my eyes.
All us junky gremlins at the AA meet.
(Do the Gremlin! Oh, Do the Gremlin!)
I wear a leather jacket and candy's all I eat.
(Do the Gremlin! Oh, Do the Gremlin!)
Fuck you I got dancin' gremlin feet!
"Lipstick Lunatic"
by Todd Purse
When yer out on the street,
Everbody wants to be with you.
When yer hangin' at the show,
All the boys wanna know about you.
Lipstick lunatic, she's all dolled up.
Lipstick lunatic, she's just don't give a fuck.
She's so fine, all the time.
But boy watch yer back,
Cause you never know when she's gonna attack.
Look out!
Young girl filled with rage,
that kinda love should be locked in a cage.
And she don't care about you.
Never stoppin', never slow down,
She's out on the town.
And she don't give a fuck about you.
Lipstick lunatic, she's all dolled up.
Lipstick lunatic, she's all that I want.
She's so rad, and she treats me bad.
But she's the best little girl that I've ever had.
Alright now!
"Not a Heartbreaker No Mo"
by Dan Robinson and Todd Purse
Johnny Thunders, what'd you do,
When life's problems got to you?
I take the drugs and I drink the booze,
But I guess I just ain't born to lose.
Cause I don't wanna be a heartbreaker no more.
So come on baby please, and get with me on the floor.
Come on pretty baby. Come on baby doll.
Let's get together... be the best that they ever saw.
I'm not a heartbreaker no mo, oh oh!
No I'm not a heartbreaker no mo.
I wipe the glitter out of my eyes.
Lettin' all them little girles cry.
Askin' themselves, "Why, oh why?"
But ya gotta have thighs to be a girlfriend of mine.
And I don't wanna be a heartbreaker no more.
So come on baby please, let it be me you adore.
Come on pretty baby. Come on baby doll.
Let's get together... be the best that they ever saw.
I'm not a heartbreaker no mo, oh oh!
No I'm not a heartbreaker no mo.
"Sugar Snack Shuffle"
by Todd Purse
If yer tryin' to forget tonight,
Grab a donut and take a bite.
All the kids are startin' to get down.
Eatin' that sweet sugar by the pound.
Now everybody knows that:
All the kids are doin' the Sugar Snack Shuffle.
Havin' fun but don't mind startin' trouble.
It don't suck like disco and the Hustle.
Everbody's doin' the Sugar Snack Shuffle!
If yer baby ain't treatin' been you right.
Runnin' round and stayin' out all night.
Grab a milkshake, c'mon chug it down.
Sugar's gonna wipe away that frown. (Yeah it is!)
Now everybody knows that:
All the kids are doin' the Sugar Snack Shuffle.
Havin' fun but don't mind startin' trouble.
It don't suck like disco and the Hustle.
Everbody's doin' the Sugar Snack Shuffle!
All songs copyright Dan Robinson and Todd Purse 2008 and published by Danthology Music. Word.
Headies News!
Good news everybody! The two most recent Madison Underground Recordings releases (The Headies - "It's A Super-Man's World" and Tit Patrol - "Shut Up Juice") are within five units of a dual sell-outs! That's right, pop-punk is NOT dead. Anyway, both bands have upcoming releases, the Headies have their debut full-length recorded and mixed by West Chester's favorite son Mike Bardzik, and it is currently being put together and pressed, due out this winter entitled "Sugar and Spice (And Everything's Fucked)". Tit Patrol is of course going up to New Hampshire to record with Joe Queer from November 28 - December 2 to work on their upcoming second full-length, tentatively titled "Tit Patrol's Still Cookin'". We are unsure whether to spend hard earned bucks to reprint the older releases, or just let them marinate in digital download form for awhile and let eBay have it's way. Irregardless! I'm gonna burn a post in honor of the non-existent lyric sheet from "It's a Super-Man's World." We've gotten a lot of demands for it, so hopefully anyone who cares will check this out... (see above!) Thanks to my constant cohorts Toddy, Frolic, Huffer and ESPECIALLY the Main Man Timmy Toner for being in more than one band with me! And by the way, all songs copyright Dan Robinson and Todd Purse, published by Danthology Music!
Dan Robinson Discography
Here's a bit of shameless self-promotion for y'all! (With more to follow!) I've been a full-time punk rocker since 1994 with a bit of a paper trail. I'd like to put that on display, and even more importantly remind you that every record I played on (and one I didn't) is available for purchase from the wonderful folks at www.madisonundergroundpress.com/MADISON_STORE.html, as well as all our mind-bending comic work. Great deals on digital downloads, but real collectors need the hard copy.
And in post production, slotted for a winter '09 release:
The Headies - "Sugar and Spice (and Everything's Fucked)" 14 song CD. Recorded at Second Story Sound in West Chester, PA by Mike Bardzik, 2008. To be released on Madison Underground Recordings #008, 2009.
Ninja Attak - "My First Time" 7 song, 7" Vinyl.
Dan Robinson - vocals and guitar,
Dan Robinson - vocals and guitar,
Brendan Huffman - bass and vocals,
Mike Cruz - drums.
Mike Cruz - drums.
Backing Vocals by Bill Kate.
Recorded at Faulk Road Studios in Wilmington, DE by Ken Herblin, 1996. Released on Trickshot Records #002, 1996. Cover art by Mike Cruz.
Recorded at Faulk Road Studios in Wilmington, DE by Ken Herblin, 1996. Released on Trickshot Records #002, 1996. Cover art by Mike Cruz.
Ninja Attak - "Split w/ The Crash" 2 song, 7" Vinyl.
Dan Robinson - vocals and guitar,
Dan Robinson - vocals and guitar,
Brendan Huffman - bass and vocals,
Mike Cruz - drums.
Recorded at Faulk Road Studios in Wilmington, DE by Ken Herblin, 1997. Released on Suburban Legend Records #001, 1997. Cover art by Mike Cruz.
Recorded at Faulk Road Studios in Wilmington, DE by Ken Herblin, 1997. Released on Suburban Legend Records #001, 1997. Cover art by Mike Cruz.
Ninja Attak - "This is My Summer" Compilation CD.
Dan Robinson - vocals and guitar,
Brendan Huffman - bass and vocals,
Tommy Ewing - drums.
Recorded in Tommy von Count's Kitchen in Marcus Hook, PA by Bill Kate, 1998. Released on Suburban Legend Records #003, 1998. Cover art by Dan Robinson.
Recorded in Tommy von Count's Kitchen in Marcus Hook, PA by Bill Kate, 1998. Released on Suburban Legend Records #003, 1998. Cover art by Dan Robinson.
Science For Kids - "Inches From Destiny" 16 song CD.
Billy Frolic - vocals and guitar,
Billy Frolic - vocals and guitar,
Sandro Braidotti - vocals and bass,
Timmy Toner - drums,
Timmy Toner - drums,
Dan Robinson - lead guitar and vocals. Recorded in Timmy "Ham Juice" Toner's basement in New Castle, DE and Billy Frolic's Living Room in Glen Mills, PA by Bill Kate, 1998. Released on Suburban Legend Records #004, 1998. Cover art by Timmy Toner.
Power of IV - "Walking Distance" 10 song, 12" Vinyl. Dan Robinson - vocals and guitar,
Brendan Huffman - guitar and vocals,
Sean Rule - drums and vocals,
Dan Stampone - bass. Recorded at the Creep House in Downingtown, PA by Arik Victor and Mike Bardzik, 1999. Released on Suburban Legend Records #005, 1999. Cover art by Bobby Campbell.
Power of IV - "A Slight Rebellion Off Madison" 14 song CD.
Dan Robinson - vocals and guitar,
Dan Robinson - vocals and guitar,
Brendan Huffman - guitar and vocals,
Sean Rule - drums and vocals,
Sean Rule - drums and vocals,
Dan Lyons - bass. Recorded at Clay Creek Studios in Newark, DE by Nick Rotundo, 2001. Mastered by Alan Douches at West West Side. Released on Madison Underground Recordings #006, 2008. Cover art by Bobby Campbell.
Endless Mike Jambox - "Another Hot Freshy-Freshy" 14 song CD.
Dan Robinson - vocals,
Billy Frolic - rhythm guitar and vocals,
mc Ben - lead guitar,
Paddy Robinson - bass,
Matty Volk - drums. Recorded at Clay Creek Studios in Newark, DE by Nick Rotundo, 2003. Mastered by Kim Dumas at West West Side. Released on Madison Underground Recordings #001, 2006. Cover art by Alex Rosenfield.
Tit Patrol - "Robot Pope" 10 song, 7" Vinyl.
Todd Purse - rhythm guitar,
Todd Purse - rhythm guitar,
Grant Robinson - lead vocals,
Mikey Radka - lead guitar and vocals,
Dan Robinson - bass and vocals,
Dan Robinson - bass and vocals,
Timmy Toner - drums. Recorded at Electric Pfizerland Studios in Newark, DE by John Paul Pfizer, 2006. Released on Madison Underground Recordings #002, 2006. Cover art by Alex Rosenfield and Todd Purse.
Tit Patrol - "Split w/ Count von Count" 4 song, 7" Vinyl.
Todd Purse - rhythm guitar,
Todd Purse - rhythm guitar,
Grant Robinson - lead vocals,
Mikey Radka - lead guitar and vocals,
Dan Robinson - bass and vocals,
Dan Robinson - bass and vocals,
Timmy Toner - drums. Recorded at Electric Pfizerland Studios in Newark, DE by John Paul Pfizer, 2006. Released on Madison Underground Recordings #003, 2007. Cover art by Alex Rosenfield and Todd Purse.
Tit Patrol - "Shut Up Juice" 12 song CD.
Todd Purse - rhythm guitar,
Todd Purse - rhythm guitar,
Grant Robinson - lead vocals,
Mikey Radka - lead guitar and vocals,
Dan Robinson - bass and vocals,
Dan Robinson - bass and vocals,
Timmy Toner - drums. Recorded at Second Story Studios in West Chester, PA by Mike Bardzik, 2007. Released on Madison Underground Recordings #004, 2007. Cover photo by Betty Frolic, Layout by Todd Purse.
The Headies - "It's a Super-Man's World" 8 song CD.
Dan Robinson - vocals and guitar,
Dan Robinson - vocals and guitar,
Todd Purse - drums,
Billy Frolic - bass and vocals. Recorded at Second Story Studios in West Chester, PA by Mike Bardzik, 2007. Released on Madison Underground Recordings #005, 2008. Cover art by Bobby Campbell.
And in post production, slotted for a winter '09 release:
The Headies - "Sugar and Spice (and Everything's Fucked)" 14 song CD. Recorded at Second Story Sound in West Chester, PA by Mike Bardzik, 2008. To be released on Madison Underground Recordings #008, 2009.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
John McCain as "IT"
Have you heard about this Jill Greenberg thing. She is a photographer who specializes in computer altered images and funky lighting to achieve her desired effect. She has shot lots and lots of celebs and icons and the like. She was recently hired by Atlantic magazine to do a John McCain photo shoot, but unbeknownst to them, she doesn't exactly like the Senator from Arizona. She shot McCain in very unflattering light and, though she claims the photoshopping was minimal, she encouraged the decrepicy. That's actually putting it lightly... in the less doctored photos, McCain looks freakin' horrible, like death warmed over but worse, all neck flab and chapped lips, evil and shadowed, standing over a strobe light. And in one particular shot, she gave him a blood-rimmed mouth with random spiked teeth, like Pennywise. The worse part is she is out there bragging about it without context, claiming to have duped McCain. Atlantic will not use them, obviously, and she may face legal action, so they're only available on Greenberg's site. She probably screwed her career a bit, but artistically, I deem this project a success. Anyway, they are genuinely disturbing shots which may give one nightmares, if they were so inclined. I like pretty things, so I wouldn't post 'em here anyway, and also it's a flash player which I can't rip from, but if you wanna real horror show, check out http://www.manipulator.com/
Monday, September 15, 2008
Jake and the Stiffs at Mojo 13
Jake and the Stiffs have always been aglow with Wilmington pride. During the glory days of the mid 1990's, they took a little ribbing, not usually to their faces, from the more snooty and perhaps overall more successful West Chester located bands. Though their outstanding "Love Bomb" graced the best Creep Records compilation "Dad I Can't Breathe" (available on 12" pink vinyl with sides A and B switched), they were subject to weird condescention. Not from me of course. I think people dissed them because of their refusal to do anything hard-core (they are STRICT power-pop style punk rock), towards which the winds of change were blowing, and they were like five years older than the rest of the scene (and I was five years younger). What that means really, is that they were before the rest. In my objective eyes, that wasn't enough to be, shall we say "better" than Plow United (who I never heard dissin' the Stiffs - it was more Arik Creep, Tom Martin, and non-band affiliated West Chester scenesters) at the time. But here's the thing... last night on September 12, 2008, Jake and the Stiffs took the stage at Mojo 13. It was a show to celebrate the release of the Stiffs' iconic bassist, Vince Algy Belial Suicide, from the slammer. The boys took the stage unashamed and unworried about reputation, as they always have, something we could not say about Plow even if they decided to play, which they will never do. What's more the Stiffs did not miss a beat, rocking through everybody's favorite numbers to the delight of punks, skinheads, and underage high school girls. The Stiffs have had a million line-ups, even including the great Wild Bill Kate on rhythm guitar at one point, but the heart is Vince on bass and Randy America on lead guitar and vocals. They played with my old band Ninja Attak when the horrible canadian perverted pop-punk (not sexually perverted, perverted what I like about pop-punk) band Gob came through town, and they played with Tit Patrol and the Endless Mike Jambox when the Queers came through last year. In fact the first show I played ever at the Barn Door in Wilmington was given to us by Bill Kate at a Stiffs/Explosive Kate show, and 1993's "Steal This Record" 7" was the first local vinyl I owned, just prior to Plow United's first LP. They were there for all the major punk rock moments in Delaware, quietly doing it right and getting shit for not fitting in just right. Last night was spectacular, I actually thought I was seventeen again, and the Stiffs played with that twenty-something abandon that is going extinct.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Everybody's Workin' For the Weekend, Right?
I would like to use this opportunity to announce my retirement from the restaurant game, and standing here in front of you, I consider myself, the unluckiest man in the world. Nah, not really, I'm super excited. All I've ever done, pretty much, since entering the so-called work-force fourteen years ago was food service, and I can't wait to do something else. I realized that I love cooking, like cooks, but hate chefs and their attitudes. I love Gordon Ramsey, and his "the F-Word" on BBC is bloody excellent. Ordinary British people and low-level celebrities work his kitchen for a night and see how many people choose to pay per course, and he busts on them or congratulates them accordingly. Also included is a behind the scenes at Ramsey's personal projects, like brewing ale and a look at raising animals to eat, and they show how to kill 'em, cause it's British! (It's off-putting but necessary for deliciousness. By the way, there is a lot of blood in each and every cow!) But, now all these American douche bags think that that is how chefs are supposed to act (swear words and belittlement), not just how one dude acts, while in character. I can tell you, some chefs are amazing, what they can do with food, but it is no more a talent then putting tail lights on Pontiacs, it is practice, like anything else. Anyone can play a guitar like Jimmy Hendrix if they try hard enough. So, any frustration pent up and directed at a certain soul-food slinger named Dan is contrived and inappropriate!
I started working in 1995 at the Rita's Water Ice on Silverside Road. As printed in Urine Zine issue #3, the franchise owner/my boss was a lady who recently stopped menstruating and hated me for it, apparently. Rita's is a weird store. The ice is really good and they have countless flavors, but it couldn't be less authentic, five gallon drums shipped in from Rita's Central. Around here, we have real Water Ice stands. Fusco's Italian Ice on Union is as real-deal as it gets. They only serve lemon and they make it fresh everyday with lemons and ice and salt and sugar and this weird machine. (I got to use it!) And also on Union is Yatz's Polish Ice, who are just slightly less authentic, as they broaden out what flavors they make, but it is seriously the best water ice in Wilmington. The fresh strawberry and strawberry-lemonade flavors are the tops, and Yatz's is a full-service steak shop too. Across Pennsylvania Ave. is the dark horse, Rose's Italian Ice with lemon and cherry. That is where I got every water ice I ever had till Rita's came around. I was not suited for Rita's. It was extremely corporate and I swear they hated me from day one. I only worked there for like a month, everyday sick to my stomach that I had to do anything I didn't want to. My tenure there ended when I gave free ice to the kids from the Shoplifters and my bitch-ass boss saw me. New to me that this was frowned upon, as everybody constantly gave it out, but I wasn't allowed to, so out I went! I flipped that store the bird every damn time I drove by for the next five years.
Next I worked at the Melting Pot on Concord Pike in Independence Mall. If you don't know, the Pot is an extremely nice fondue restaurant, perfect for sexy dates and mother's day. Guests cook their own food in hot oil or bouillon at their table, so all three course, cheese course, entree, and chocolate dessert, are all prep and no cooking. I started in "the Pit" scrubbing stubborn cheese pans and dishes, and to this day I have never been stinkier than working in a fondue restaurant. Eventually I was identified as not a fuck up and got to design dessert plates and even invented a chocolate design they use to this day. The yin-tang, half white chocolate, half dark chocolate with circles of milk chocolate in the fat part. The best part was that we got out at like ten or eleven but I wouldn't go home until one or two, so the whole time I worked there I got about four hours of sleep a night, and would fall asleep driving alot.
I got sick of the hours though and soon moved to a Delaware institution, Capriotti's Subs! My time there makes me really proud, because you will not get a better sub in the whole world than at Cap's. Franchised all the way out to Las Vegas now, if you show your Delaware ID there you get a free small turkey! Pulled turkey, not that crummy deli stuff!! The best taste in the world is a fresh hunk of, slow-cook roast beef, hot from the oven over night and on white bread, dipped in the juice! You should break into any given Capriotti's during the night while they have their beefs and turkeys in the oven, and eat them.
Around now is when I realized there was something wrong with me. I had a great job with great hours that I could walk to, and all the pastrami I could eat, but I hated it. I hated the idea that I had to do anything I ever didn't feel like. At school, days that I worked were horrible, always hanging over my head with responsibility. Not big responsibility, just any responsibility was too much. A schedule existing with my name on it that dictated when I would be anywhere, anywhere at all, was no good. That's why I quit little league at Babe Ruth level. They all told me that everybody has to work. Why? To make money because that's how the world works, and the only way out is suicide. Even crime denotes a schedule, trust me, I tried. Shhh... I have never stopped resenting this apparent fact. They say you must work to make money to not starve. I say I could win the lottery. They say I have not done that (and in fact have never played the lottery), so it doesn't matter. I say it could happen so it does matter. I could literally find ten million dollars if I'm lucky enough, just like Willie Lohman never did. I could have a hit single or sell pictures of celebrity babies one time and never have to work again. I could write "Catcher in the Rye" or "The Bible" and sell copies for life without publishing again. The fact that these possibilities exist means that there is hope, and hope trumps despair. I have worked for thirteen some odd years with a total of the entire time, only about eight months unemployed. Those eight months were more productive than the rest combined. I do what I must in this reality, but I wholly reserve the right to think it is fucked up. I should be given a pass for being me, redeemable at the grocery store and 7-11 and the weed dude and local eateries and the comic book shop and Citizen's Bank Park and eBay. Oh, I also refuse to use a bank. It has cost me more money to keep my money in a bank than is conceivable. Anyway, the point is that working should be that which fulfils you, not that which obstructs your fulfillment, ideally. But it's not so I cook for bucks.
The closest thing I came to job fulfillment was working at the Comic Book Shop in North Wilmington. It was a dream come true really. All the free comics I could want and the store to run as I would. I stayed up on every new book and got all kinds of classics like "The Death of Gwen Stacy" and "Spiderman No More" and "Batman:Year One". I used to have girls over and lock up the shop and show them the back room, if you catch my drift, and smoke weed in the toy section after hours. Amazingly it wasn't this behaviour that got me canned. I spaced on opening on a new comic Wednesday and was rightfully given the boot! Losing this job is the only tangible regret I hold in my life.
After that I went to college in Newark and the Huffer got me a job washing dishes at Iron Hill. I was the great white hope, the only non-Hispanic dishwasher and I held very little respect for the rest of the Caucasian staff, but they loved me and soon I was on line making salads, appetizers and desserts while Huffer tossed pizza pies around the corner. It was here that I fully realized that people who work in restaurants are crazy and frequently substance abusers, much like hair stylists. This was the worst job I ever had, because we'd get off around one and get drunk ass wasted until early in the morning, sleep until five and go do it again. This schedule is not good for mental stability, and I made it out by the skin of my teeth.
I moved to Paper Mill Road and Billy Frolic hired me and Karl and Todd and Grant at Peace-A-Pizza, delivering pies around Newark. This was a real free-for-all and a true blast. We would keep kegs in the walk-in and the whole staff was tanked all the time! I loved driving around in the nice weather all toasted and seeing people's houses and dorm rooms and stuff. I was a bona-fide wild man at the time and the entire system lended itself well to innocent hedonism. Unfortunately, Billy received his first unfair firing, and me and half the staff walked out with him. Did I mention that it is horrible hippie-style pizza for trendy losers? Well it is!
In order to be around fellow degenerates, I took the job as a bus boy, or as they call it a server's assistant, at Iron Hill on the Riverfront. We had the all-time greatest bus crew of all time. Me, Karl, Grant, and Bobby Nowell were the Dream Team of servers assistants. This place was a real grab-bag of girls to date and get messed up with. It was like living in a vacuum were you can happily free-fall without fear of hitting the ground. We lost Bobby when the manager Gay Eric tried and make us bus boys carry trays at all times. It may sound small, but this could not fly and Bobby actually walked out when Eric tried to force it on him. I got a weak thrill out of carrying tens of pint glasses in front of everybody, but it wasn't enough. I was relieved of my duties as this one hostess's boy-toy, crashed my car a couple times, read some Green Lantern comics, and decided to resign and enter rehab and the loony bin at the Rockford Center.
After I got clean I took three months off before getting hired yet again by Billy Frolic at Dead Presidents Pub on Union Street. This would be my longest tenure at any job and the closest I came to being okay with working. That is, I worked (once again) with Todd and Karl and Billy and virtually no one was being a dick to me. I could know I had to work and not be deeply depressed about it. I was also on medication! At Dead Prez I made the only real friend I ever made at a job. Master Ray is actually the kindest person I know, a top-notch conversationalist and music fan. I love Ray! We all had alot of fun and did a great job at DP, taking ownership and making the restaurant a success. Unfortunately this was not enough for ownership. The Lucey Brothers are Salesianum grads (like us boys), but they are old school, molestin' style Catholics, all talk, no rock. It turns out they realized they could pay someone less than Billy to run the store, so they railroaded him, saying he was not committed enough and drank too much, both blatant lies to everyone who worked there. Todd and I used this as an opportunity to quit, and I called up them boys and told them all about themselves and what they could do with their jobs. Those pussies offered me more money (I was making jack shit!), and with Billy's approval, I stayed on the project I had started. It wasn't new managements fault, they put assistant GM Brownie in charge and bartender Nicole took up his position. They are both great people who want to succeed, but were payed less than Billy and ultimately less was expected of them. Brownie exceeded all expectations and made me kitchen manager, but neither of us, least of all me, needed any responsibility or people blaming me for orders arriving late, etc... so I asked them to hire a real manager. The dude the Lucy Bros. brought in was probably the creepiest douche bag I have ever had the displeasure of being around/working with, and both Brownie and I had had enough, resigning within a week of each other. Now the place is hangin' by the thread that is Raymond.
I used the following two months to weigh my options and shop around my talents. It was probably the most stressful vacation I ever took, having no money and begging, borrowing, and stealing my way through the summer, until Dead Prez's Nicole set me up with a new kitchen, 1717 on Delaware Ave. I took the job, being told it was five days a week, never working past eleven, and the kitchen would be mine to do with as I will. I was surprised to come in on my first day to find the new kitchen manager, my old buddy Toby from Iron Hill, we would be opening seven days a week, and on three of those days I'd have to stay until 1 am! We had fun for a month, but it was clear not only that I am burnt out on cooking for a living and that I can not be around people I don't know who drink or use non-marijuana drugs excessively, so I set out on a new path.
My best friend Todd works for Action Supplies Unlimited in New Castle, and as of now, so do I! I am their newest sales representative and I can not wait. We sell chemicals, paper, plastics, cleaning supplies, any and all supplies you need for your place of business, I will sell to you and offer Hank Hill-esque service to go along with it. It is a local company that is focused on environmentally friendly alternatives to harsh cleaning chemicals. One of the many things that attracted my to the job (along with working with Todd, the enlightening characters from which I can learn, my love of that which is clean and multicolored chemicals, etc...) is how old-school it is. Save for the chemical make-up of the product, the job is the same as it would have been in the 1950's. I'm reading all the literature on my product to know how best to explain and sell it, as well as Arthur Miller's "Death of a Salesman" which I feel will give me the insights I need for greatness.
They say "do what you love and the money will follow." In my experience I have not found that to be true. I mean, if you love playing video games, you can get a job designing video games, not playing video games. What's more, what if all I love is playing R.B.I. Baseball 3? It would be extremely far-fetched to think you could find a job playing R.B.I. Baseball One, let alone Three! If you love playing punk rock in your basement and don't even want anybody to see what you do (that DOES NOT describe me, by the way), you might be able to get paid playing some version of your music, if you concede to play it outside your basement. If you only love playing basketball but are five foot two, you might be able to get a job coaching, maybe. The point is if you get paid for doing what you love exactly it is a rare and fortunate accident. For the most part doing what you love must occur in spite of the need to make money or starve. To those who have it both ways, you are a blessed person. So for now, I retire from the food-service industry, until my dad opens a restaurant, at which time I'll be ready to do it all!
I started working in 1995 at the Rita's Water Ice on Silverside Road. As printed in Urine Zine issue #3, the franchise owner/my boss was a lady who recently stopped menstruating and hated me for it, apparently. Rita's is a weird store. The ice is really good and they have countless flavors, but it couldn't be less authentic, five gallon drums shipped in from Rita's Central. Around here, we have real Water Ice stands. Fusco's Italian Ice on Union is as real-deal as it gets. They only serve lemon and they make it fresh everyday with lemons and ice and salt and sugar and this weird machine. (I got to use it!) And also on Union is Yatz's Polish Ice, who are just slightly less authentic, as they broaden out what flavors they make, but it is seriously the best water ice in Wilmington. The fresh strawberry and strawberry-lemonade flavors are the tops, and Yatz's is a full-service steak shop too. Across Pennsylvania Ave. is the dark horse, Rose's Italian Ice with lemon and cherry. That is where I got every water ice I ever had till Rita's came around. I was not suited for Rita's. It was extremely corporate and I swear they hated me from day one. I only worked there for like a month, everyday sick to my stomach that I had to do anything I didn't want to. My tenure there ended when I gave free ice to the kids from the Shoplifters and my bitch-ass boss saw me. New to me that this was frowned upon, as everybody constantly gave it out, but I wasn't allowed to, so out I went! I flipped that store the bird every damn time I drove by for the next five years.
Next I worked at the Melting Pot on Concord Pike in Independence Mall. If you don't know, the Pot is an extremely nice fondue restaurant, perfect for sexy dates and mother's day. Guests cook their own food in hot oil or bouillon at their table, so all three course, cheese course, entree, and chocolate dessert, are all prep and no cooking. I started in "the Pit" scrubbing stubborn cheese pans and dishes, and to this day I have never been stinkier than working in a fondue restaurant. Eventually I was identified as not a fuck up and got to design dessert plates and even invented a chocolate design they use to this day. The yin-tang, half white chocolate, half dark chocolate with circles of milk chocolate in the fat part. The best part was that we got out at like ten or eleven but I wouldn't go home until one or two, so the whole time I worked there I got about four hours of sleep a night, and would fall asleep driving alot.
I got sick of the hours though and soon moved to a Delaware institution, Capriotti's Subs! My time there makes me really proud, because you will not get a better sub in the whole world than at Cap's. Franchised all the way out to Las Vegas now, if you show your Delaware ID there you get a free small turkey! Pulled turkey, not that crummy deli stuff!! The best taste in the world is a fresh hunk of, slow-cook roast beef, hot from the oven over night and on white bread, dipped in the juice! You should break into any given Capriotti's during the night while they have their beefs and turkeys in the oven, and eat them.
Around now is when I realized there was something wrong with me. I had a great job with great hours that I could walk to, and all the pastrami I could eat, but I hated it. I hated the idea that I had to do anything I ever didn't feel like. At school, days that I worked were horrible, always hanging over my head with responsibility. Not big responsibility, just any responsibility was too much. A schedule existing with my name on it that dictated when I would be anywhere, anywhere at all, was no good. That's why I quit little league at Babe Ruth level. They all told me that everybody has to work. Why? To make money because that's how the world works, and the only way out is suicide. Even crime denotes a schedule, trust me, I tried. Shhh... I have never stopped resenting this apparent fact. They say you must work to make money to not starve. I say I could win the lottery. They say I have not done that (and in fact have never played the lottery), so it doesn't matter. I say it could happen so it does matter. I could literally find ten million dollars if I'm lucky enough, just like Willie Lohman never did. I could have a hit single or sell pictures of celebrity babies one time and never have to work again. I could write "Catcher in the Rye" or "The Bible" and sell copies for life without publishing again. The fact that these possibilities exist means that there is hope, and hope trumps despair. I have worked for thirteen some odd years with a total of the entire time, only about eight months unemployed. Those eight months were more productive than the rest combined. I do what I must in this reality, but I wholly reserve the right to think it is fucked up. I should be given a pass for being me, redeemable at the grocery store and 7-11 and the weed dude and local eateries and the comic book shop and Citizen's Bank Park and eBay. Oh, I also refuse to use a bank. It has cost me more money to keep my money in a bank than is conceivable. Anyway, the point is that working should be that which fulfils you, not that which obstructs your fulfillment, ideally. But it's not so I cook for bucks.
The closest thing I came to job fulfillment was working at the Comic Book Shop in North Wilmington. It was a dream come true really. All the free comics I could want and the store to run as I would. I stayed up on every new book and got all kinds of classics like "The Death of Gwen Stacy" and "Spiderman No More" and "Batman:Year One". I used to have girls over and lock up the shop and show them the back room, if you catch my drift, and smoke weed in the toy section after hours. Amazingly it wasn't this behaviour that got me canned. I spaced on opening on a new comic Wednesday and was rightfully given the boot! Losing this job is the only tangible regret I hold in my life.
After that I went to college in Newark and the Huffer got me a job washing dishes at Iron Hill. I was the great white hope, the only non-Hispanic dishwasher and I held very little respect for the rest of the Caucasian staff, but they loved me and soon I was on line making salads, appetizers and desserts while Huffer tossed pizza pies around the corner. It was here that I fully realized that people who work in restaurants are crazy and frequently substance abusers, much like hair stylists. This was the worst job I ever had, because we'd get off around one and get drunk ass wasted until early in the morning, sleep until five and go do it again. This schedule is not good for mental stability, and I made it out by the skin of my teeth.
I moved to Paper Mill Road and Billy Frolic hired me and Karl and Todd and Grant at Peace-A-Pizza, delivering pies around Newark. This was a real free-for-all and a true blast. We would keep kegs in the walk-in and the whole staff was tanked all the time! I loved driving around in the nice weather all toasted and seeing people's houses and dorm rooms and stuff. I was a bona-fide wild man at the time and the entire system lended itself well to innocent hedonism. Unfortunately, Billy received his first unfair firing, and me and half the staff walked out with him. Did I mention that it is horrible hippie-style pizza for trendy losers? Well it is!
In order to be around fellow degenerates, I took the job as a bus boy, or as they call it a server's assistant, at Iron Hill on the Riverfront. We had the all-time greatest bus crew of all time. Me, Karl, Grant, and Bobby Nowell were the Dream Team of servers assistants. This place was a real grab-bag of girls to date and get messed up with. It was like living in a vacuum were you can happily free-fall without fear of hitting the ground. We lost Bobby when the manager Gay Eric tried and make us bus boys carry trays at all times. It may sound small, but this could not fly and Bobby actually walked out when Eric tried to force it on him. I got a weak thrill out of carrying tens of pint glasses in front of everybody, but it wasn't enough. I was relieved of my duties as this one hostess's boy-toy, crashed my car a couple times, read some Green Lantern comics, and decided to resign and enter rehab and the loony bin at the Rockford Center.
After I got clean I took three months off before getting hired yet again by Billy Frolic at Dead Presidents Pub on Union Street. This would be my longest tenure at any job and the closest I came to being okay with working. That is, I worked (once again) with Todd and Karl and Billy and virtually no one was being a dick to me. I could know I had to work and not be deeply depressed about it. I was also on medication! At Dead Prez I made the only real friend I ever made at a job. Master Ray is actually the kindest person I know, a top-notch conversationalist and music fan. I love Ray! We all had alot of fun and did a great job at DP, taking ownership and making the restaurant a success. Unfortunately this was not enough for ownership. The Lucey Brothers are Salesianum grads (like us boys), but they are old school, molestin' style Catholics, all talk, no rock. It turns out they realized they could pay someone less than Billy to run the store, so they railroaded him, saying he was not committed enough and drank too much, both blatant lies to everyone who worked there. Todd and I used this as an opportunity to quit, and I called up them boys and told them all about themselves and what they could do with their jobs. Those pussies offered me more money (I was making jack shit!), and with Billy's approval, I stayed on the project I had started. It wasn't new managements fault, they put assistant GM Brownie in charge and bartender Nicole took up his position. They are both great people who want to succeed, but were payed less than Billy and ultimately less was expected of them. Brownie exceeded all expectations and made me kitchen manager, but neither of us, least of all me, needed any responsibility or people blaming me for orders arriving late, etc... so I asked them to hire a real manager. The dude the Lucy Bros. brought in was probably the creepiest douche bag I have ever had the displeasure of being around/working with, and both Brownie and I had had enough, resigning within a week of each other. Now the place is hangin' by the thread that is Raymond.
I used the following two months to weigh my options and shop around my talents. It was probably the most stressful vacation I ever took, having no money and begging, borrowing, and stealing my way through the summer, until Dead Prez's Nicole set me up with a new kitchen, 1717 on Delaware Ave. I took the job, being told it was five days a week, never working past eleven, and the kitchen would be mine to do with as I will. I was surprised to come in on my first day to find the new kitchen manager, my old buddy Toby from Iron Hill, we would be opening seven days a week, and on three of those days I'd have to stay until 1 am! We had fun for a month, but it was clear not only that I am burnt out on cooking for a living and that I can not be around people I don't know who drink or use non-marijuana drugs excessively, so I set out on a new path.
My best friend Todd works for Action Supplies Unlimited in New Castle, and as of now, so do I! I am their newest sales representative and I can not wait. We sell chemicals, paper, plastics, cleaning supplies, any and all supplies you need for your place of business, I will sell to you and offer Hank Hill-esque service to go along with it. It is a local company that is focused on environmentally friendly alternatives to harsh cleaning chemicals. One of the many things that attracted my to the job (along with working with Todd, the enlightening characters from which I can learn, my love of that which is clean and multicolored chemicals, etc...) is how old-school it is. Save for the chemical make-up of the product, the job is the same as it would have been in the 1950's. I'm reading all the literature on my product to know how best to explain and sell it, as well as Arthur Miller's "Death of a Salesman" which I feel will give me the insights I need for greatness.
They say "do what you love and the money will follow." In my experience I have not found that to be true. I mean, if you love playing video games, you can get a job designing video games, not playing video games. What's more, what if all I love is playing R.B.I. Baseball 3? It would be extremely far-fetched to think you could find a job playing R.B.I. Baseball One, let alone Three! If you love playing punk rock in your basement and don't even want anybody to see what you do (that DOES NOT describe me, by the way), you might be able to get paid playing some version of your music, if you concede to play it outside your basement. If you only love playing basketball but are five foot two, you might be able to get a job coaching, maybe. The point is if you get paid for doing what you love exactly it is a rare and fortunate accident. For the most part doing what you love must occur in spite of the need to make money or starve. To those who have it both ways, you are a blessed person. So for now, I retire from the food-service industry, until my dad opens a restaurant, at which time I'll be ready to do it all!
Vote Handsome Dick Manitoba/Jimmy Rollins in 2008!
In our current two party system, the choice is obvious. One must vote Democrat this year. Not only does McCain represent the same policies that have torn our country apart over the last eight years, we also stand at the crux of history in which we can protect American's rights with a vote for Obama, or set up the series of events to rob us of said rights with a vote for McCain. With that being said, I have a soft spot for third party candidates, and one ticket running this year really caught my eye, really speaks to me and for me. The ticket is the one you've been hearing about from the alternative media, that's right Handsome Dick Manitoba/Jimmy Rollins in 2008!! I was lucky enough to attend the convention held at Manitoba's bar in Manhattan, NY. Rollins made abrief statement about being the "ticket to beat" and called winning all fifty states before yielding the floor to Manitoba. Here is the transcript of his acceptance speech for the presidential nomination.
Manitoba starts out by responding to those critics who question his and his V.P.'s qualifications for the most powerful positions in the free world as a legendary punk rocker and tavernist and the most sabermetrically sound short stop in modern baseball.
Who's that boy with the sandwich in his hand? You won't miss me, even though you can. He could make a dead dog laugh, and watch me kick my mother on her ass. He's no boy and yet he ain't no man. He don't know what he's gonna do. In three years, I'm gonna be fifty-two. All his friends think he's great. He's their favorite degenerate. You might say he's just too crazy for you. You can bet that he's no Mickey Mouse. Give me an hour, and I'll destroy your house. Eatin' eggs all day long, sleepin' with the TV on. He looks just like you, turn him inside out.
Then a quick statement of brand and a dig at the competition.
I am a pilgrim looking for danger. I am an outlaw, I am a stranger. I'm just a clown walking down the street. I think John McCain is a creep. I need a girl, I need release.
Then Mr. Manitoba focused in on the issues, telling us exactly why he'd best suited for the job.
Talk, talk, talk, talk, keeps getting in the way. Speaking as a young artiste who has so much to say. So now you know my situation, understand my aggravation, building up so strong inside, cause I wanna make some noise. I can play faster and louder. I can dance faster and louder. I can live faster and louder. I'm a man faster and louder. I can scream faster and louder. I can jive faster and louder. Walk the dog faster and louder. Mow the lawn faster and louder. Jump back jack! Faster and louder. Get down Bernice! Faster and louder. Hot Pants!
So tell me pretty baby, are you still talking bout yourself? You're such a non-conformist, just like everybody else. And if you had a heart, tell me would you use it? And if you had a thought, I think you'd confuse it. And if you understood exactly what I'm saying, would you have the common sense to kiss my ass? Cause I am right. I am right. I am right. I am right.I'd like to take your ego and crush it into a little ball. And then I'd take my baseball bat and knock it over the center field wall. Cause if you had a soul, I think you would sell it, and if you had a life, you'd serve your time in hell. Justice can be sweet, power is corrupting, so it would be my pleasure to have you kiss my ass. Cause I am right. I am right. I am right. I am right.And if there was a god, I think she'd give her blessings to every dirty deed, I would be confessing.So before I knock on heaven's door please grant my last request. Would you be so kind as to kiss my ass? Cause I am right.
Hippies are squares with long hair, and they don't wear no underwear. Country Rock is on the way. I don't want music, I want pain. Dictators can swing. Make you dance and sing. Cause no oil spill. You don't know us, but you will! We're the members of the master race. Got no style, and we got no grace. Sleep all night, sleep all day. Nothing good on t.v. anyway. Gasoline shortage won't stop me now, Oh no!We've reached a higher spiritual plain, that is so high, I can't explain. We tell jokes to make you laugh. We play sports so we don't get fat. We can sweat and stink. We can eat and drink. Don't do what we're told. And we're scared of growing old! We're the members of the master race. We don't judge you by your face.First we check to see what you eat, then we bend down and smell your feet.
Mr. Manitoba then goes on to discuss some of his constituents and the financial problems they've been facing under the Republican administration.
Benny got a new tattoo down at the St. Mark's Zoo. He walked down to the park, drinkin 40's till it's dark. Talkin to a grey haired man in a tye-dyed shirt and ragged pants. He said, "That's where the hippies used to play. Down on Avenue A." Susie got a new pair of shoes. Now she don't know what to do. So she's sitting in the Park, smokin' pot till it's dark. Talking to a toothless man with spiky hair and leather pants. He said,"I knew Stiv in the day. And that's where the junkies used to play. Down on Avenue A." When every memory is gone, and everything you know is wrong... Takin' the edge off on a beautiful day, with a Frappacino and a creme brulee. Yeah, it's all over when you see a Range Rover, and to my bodega, I say, "hasta luega." It's not what you do, it's what you say. And it's not who you know, it's who you pay down on Avenue A.
Smoking marijuana, watching channel five. Got to get my strength up in this struggle to survive. Everyone's an asshole. Everyone's a creep. I look out my window and there's garbage in the streets. I live in the city, I breathe dirty air. I ride trains with b-boys, junkies, queens and squares.Everybody's hungry and don't know what to do. I used to live on pizza, now I live on Chinese food. I can't stand my neighbors screaming all the time. If I wasn't blasting "Sister Ray" I could lose my mind. I live in the city. I breathe dirty air. I ride trains with b-boys, junkies, queens and squares.Safely someone's smiling, the fat man waits his turn. Soon he'll count his money while the south Bronx slowly burns. Get out for the children. Get your ass and run. Get out of this stinkin mess. To a safe suburban slum.
Oh Weekend, Benny took downs in class. The principal found his stash, his mother's gonna get his ass.Oh Weekend, In his room he'll stay. Dreamin when he's king he'll say, "Everyday is Saturday!"Oh Weekend, Bobby is a local punk. Cuttin school and getting drunk, eating at McDonald's for lunch.Oh Weekend, soon he threw up in the store. But if he does it anymore, I'll make him eat it off the floor.
Finally Mr. Manitoba focuses in on the only issue greater than freedom of choice.
I fall to my knees and look to the sky. Who will save rock and roll? Murray The K is not here today, so who will save rock and roll? Every protest singer, every guitar slinger, every punk rock sinner sells his soul.My generation is not the salvation, so who will save rock and roll? I saw The Stooges, covered with bruises. Who will save rock and roll? Every mercenary, three chord revolutionaries, choose your side and choose it well. June 1st, 67 something died and went to heaven. I wish Sgt. Pepper never taught the band to play.
You say you wanna rock and make it to the top? You gotta look good and you gotta act tough. You don't know what to do, I'm givin you a clue, so you can be the next Supreme Rock Dude.
I can go anywhere, people look and people stare. They all know that I'm the one, not to let your son become. What I want to do I do, who I want to screw I screw. Playin' in a heavy band, guess I'm just a Two Tub Man.I drink Pepsi Cola for breakfast. I've got Hilary Clinton in my pants. I'm never gonna watch channel 13, edjumacation ain't for me.
So he's a little soft on the education issue, but still the most interesting candidate in this very interesting race. And if you like extremism and mavericks (Republicans) than write in your vote for Manitoba/Rollins in '08!
Manitoba starts out by responding to those critics who question his and his V.P.'s qualifications for the most powerful positions in the free world as a legendary punk rocker and tavernist and the most sabermetrically sound short stop in modern baseball.
Who's that boy with the sandwich in his hand? You won't miss me, even though you can. He could make a dead dog laugh, and watch me kick my mother on her ass. He's no boy and yet he ain't no man. He don't know what he's gonna do. In three years, I'm gonna be fifty-two. All his friends think he's great. He's their favorite degenerate. You might say he's just too crazy for you. You can bet that he's no Mickey Mouse. Give me an hour, and I'll destroy your house. Eatin' eggs all day long, sleepin' with the TV on. He looks just like you, turn him inside out.
Then a quick statement of brand and a dig at the competition.
I am a pilgrim looking for danger. I am an outlaw, I am a stranger. I'm just a clown walking down the street. I think John McCain is a creep. I need a girl, I need release.
Then Mr. Manitoba focused in on the issues, telling us exactly why he'd best suited for the job.
Talk, talk, talk, talk, keeps getting in the way. Speaking as a young artiste who has so much to say. So now you know my situation, understand my aggravation, building up so strong inside, cause I wanna make some noise. I can play faster and louder. I can dance faster and louder. I can live faster and louder. I'm a man faster and louder. I can scream faster and louder. I can jive faster and louder. Walk the dog faster and louder. Mow the lawn faster and louder. Jump back jack! Faster and louder. Get down Bernice! Faster and louder. Hot Pants!
So tell me pretty baby, are you still talking bout yourself? You're such a non-conformist, just like everybody else. And if you had a heart, tell me would you use it? And if you had a thought, I think you'd confuse it. And if you understood exactly what I'm saying, would you have the common sense to kiss my ass? Cause I am right. I am right. I am right. I am right.I'd like to take your ego and crush it into a little ball. And then I'd take my baseball bat and knock it over the center field wall. Cause if you had a soul, I think you would sell it, and if you had a life, you'd serve your time in hell. Justice can be sweet, power is corrupting, so it would be my pleasure to have you kiss my ass. Cause I am right. I am right. I am right. I am right.And if there was a god, I think she'd give her blessings to every dirty deed, I would be confessing.So before I knock on heaven's door please grant my last request. Would you be so kind as to kiss my ass? Cause I am right.
Hippies are squares with long hair, and they don't wear no underwear. Country Rock is on the way. I don't want music, I want pain. Dictators can swing. Make you dance and sing. Cause no oil spill. You don't know us, but you will! We're the members of the master race. Got no style, and we got no grace. Sleep all night, sleep all day. Nothing good on t.v. anyway. Gasoline shortage won't stop me now, Oh no!We've reached a higher spiritual plain, that is so high, I can't explain. We tell jokes to make you laugh. We play sports so we don't get fat. We can sweat and stink. We can eat and drink. Don't do what we're told. And we're scared of growing old! We're the members of the master race. We don't judge you by your face.First we check to see what you eat, then we bend down and smell your feet.
Mr. Manitoba then goes on to discuss some of his constituents and the financial problems they've been facing under the Republican administration.
Benny got a new tattoo down at the St. Mark's Zoo. He walked down to the park, drinkin 40's till it's dark. Talkin to a grey haired man in a tye-dyed shirt and ragged pants. He said, "That's where the hippies used to play. Down on Avenue A." Susie got a new pair of shoes. Now she don't know what to do. So she's sitting in the Park, smokin' pot till it's dark. Talking to a toothless man with spiky hair and leather pants. He said,"I knew Stiv in the day. And that's where the junkies used to play. Down on Avenue A." When every memory is gone, and everything you know is wrong... Takin' the edge off on a beautiful day, with a Frappacino and a creme brulee. Yeah, it's all over when you see a Range Rover, and to my bodega, I say, "hasta luega." It's not what you do, it's what you say. And it's not who you know, it's who you pay down on Avenue A.
Smoking marijuana, watching channel five. Got to get my strength up in this struggle to survive. Everyone's an asshole. Everyone's a creep. I look out my window and there's garbage in the streets. I live in the city, I breathe dirty air. I ride trains with b-boys, junkies, queens and squares.Everybody's hungry and don't know what to do. I used to live on pizza, now I live on Chinese food. I can't stand my neighbors screaming all the time. If I wasn't blasting "Sister Ray" I could lose my mind. I live in the city. I breathe dirty air. I ride trains with b-boys, junkies, queens and squares.Safely someone's smiling, the fat man waits his turn. Soon he'll count his money while the south Bronx slowly burns. Get out for the children. Get your ass and run. Get out of this stinkin mess. To a safe suburban slum.
Oh Weekend, Benny took downs in class. The principal found his stash, his mother's gonna get his ass.Oh Weekend, In his room he'll stay. Dreamin when he's king he'll say, "Everyday is Saturday!"Oh Weekend, Bobby is a local punk. Cuttin school and getting drunk, eating at McDonald's for lunch.Oh Weekend, soon he threw up in the store. But if he does it anymore, I'll make him eat it off the floor.
Finally Mr. Manitoba focuses in on the only issue greater than freedom of choice.
I fall to my knees and look to the sky. Who will save rock and roll? Murray The K is not here today, so who will save rock and roll? Every protest singer, every guitar slinger, every punk rock sinner sells his soul.My generation is not the salvation, so who will save rock and roll? I saw The Stooges, covered with bruises. Who will save rock and roll? Every mercenary, three chord revolutionaries, choose your side and choose it well. June 1st, 67 something died and went to heaven. I wish Sgt. Pepper never taught the band to play.
You say you wanna rock and make it to the top? You gotta look good and you gotta act tough. You don't know what to do, I'm givin you a clue, so you can be the next Supreme Rock Dude.
I can go anywhere, people look and people stare. They all know that I'm the one, not to let your son become. What I want to do I do, who I want to screw I screw. Playin' in a heavy band, guess I'm just a Two Tub Man.I drink Pepsi Cola for breakfast. I've got Hilary Clinton in my pants. I'm never gonna watch channel 13, edjumacation ain't for me.
So he's a little soft on the education issue, but still the most interesting candidate in this very interesting race. And if you like extremism and mavericks (Republicans) than write in your vote for Manitoba/Rollins in '08!
Campbell Strikes Again!
Hot damn, this is cool! Bobby Campbell drew up this official endorsement, and that is in fact what I'm talkin' 'bout when I'm talkin' 'bout America! I can only imagine the Mr. Moist Obama, or the "Main Man" Timmy Toner's McCain and Palin... do it.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
All-Time MLB Franchise Players - NL East
As promised, here is the big list, the top franchise player for each current team throughout their history. Said player must have nearly career-long personal success and have participated in their team's success. Staying on one team throughout their career will be a plus. I will also throw in some honorable mentions and current, newer players who may well achieve that ultimate franchise status. I'll go in order of the standings as of today. In the interest of brevity (ha ha), I'll break it down to a division per post over the next couple days.
National League East
New York Mets - It's hard to give the all-time franchise seal to any of the "bad guys who won" from the '86-'88 teams because their stars, Darryl Strawberry, Doc Gooden, Kevin Mitchell's, careers all kinda went awry due to drugs and ego. And Mike Piazza couldn't carry the team to World Series victory in 2001. The best Met ever has to be Tom Seaver. Actually nicknamed "the Franchise," Seaver is the Mets all time winner with 311 wins, 3,640 strikeouts and a 2.86 ERA. In 1969, Seaver had 25 wins and the first of his three Cy Young Awards en route to leading the Mets to their first ever World Series win.
Philadelphia Phillies - The best team there could ever be, my Phillies have had a cadre of excellent, representative stars. From the greats like Richie Ashburn and Robin Roberts to today's stars Ryan Howard, Chase Utley, Cole Hamels, et al. I believe that barring any ludicrous trades that Jimmy Rollins is in fact the all-time Phillies franchise player. If you only watched baseball in 1993 then my man Lenny "Nails" Dykstra of John "the Krukker" Kruk could easily fit the bill. But for now, it is clearly the Scmidter, twelve time All-Star, Michael Jack Schmidt. I grew up watching Schmidt club his way towards 548 home runs, and in 1980 he won the MVP (one of three he would win) and led our team, along with Pete Rose, Steve Carlton, Greg Luzinski, and Tug McGraw, to World Series victory. Schmidt was a pro, earning ten Gold Glove Awards and rarely showing emotion or compassion for Philly fans who simultaneously loved and hated him for it, but always realized we were watching possibly the best third baseman in baseball history do his job for us.
Florida Marlins - Another expansion team, like the Rays, it is difficult to pinpoint the Marlin's franchise player. Many great players had sub-par seasons with them, and their two World Series Championships were largely a patchwork quilt of rent-a-players not suitable for the franchise tag. Their 1997 World Series team consisted of great players who you can't even imagine in a Florida uniform, like Bobby Bonilla, Moises Alou, Gary Sheffield, and Darren Daulten. The 2003 squad had future Red Sox stars Josh Beckett and Mike Lowell, Chicage Cub Derek Lee, L.A. Dodger Brad Penny, etc... These were really good teams but without commitment to maintaining the nucleus of players either time, the band broke up. Until last off-season, I would have bet it all that either third baseman Miguel Cabrera or side-arm fire-baller Dontrelle Willi$ would have soon fit into that all-time franchise label, but they are Tigers now, to varying degrees. Currently, the Marlins have some very good young talent that could rise to franchise status like All-Star second baseman Dan Uggla, and the great Hanley Ramirez at short stop, but if Florida repeats its history, this young talent will be traded for much older big names and a quick fix. If there is a Florida Marlin all-time franchise player, it would have to be Jeff Conine. He was an original Marlin, and on the 1997 and 2003 World Series teams. He is a two time All-Star with respectable mid-level numbers, but he is known by some as "Mr. Marlin" due to his quiet, intangible quality that helped Florida become World Champs two times over.
Atlanta Braves - Despite all the talent Atlanta has boasted over the years, offensively Eddie Matthews, David Justice, Terry Pendleton, Ron Gant, Chipper Jones, and pitching Tom Glavine, John Smoltz, Greg Maddux, Steve Avery, Warren Spahn, this is an easy one. Despite having played half his career in Milwaukee until the Braves moved to Atlanta in 1966, Hammerin' Hank Aaron achieved his greatest fame and ultimate goal in Atlanta. He wrested the crown from Babe Ruth's head to become the new Home Run King in 1974 with a career total of 755, a title he achieved without performance enhancing drugs. Aaron was a twenty-one time All-Star and holds the record for career RBI's, extra base hits, total bases, and he is in the top five all time for each hits, runs, games played, and at bats. He won a World Series and league MVP with the eventual Atlanta team in Milwaukee in 1957. Each year the Hank Aaron Award is given to the most effective hitter in each league.
Washington Nationals/Montreal Expos - Well, not much has ever gone right for this franchise, no matter what country they play in. Since they moved to Washington, the best National has been Alfonsonso Soriano, who mainly used RFK Park as a place to learn to play left-field before going on to a good team in Chicago. Ryan Zimmerman is a vacuum at third base, but young and not consistently offensively impressive. You have you go back to Montreal and take a look. Greats like Pedro Martinez and Vlad Guererro got their start in Montreal, but the best team was in the late '70's with "Rock" Raines, Gary Carter, and the Montreal all time franchise player, Andre "the Hawk" Dawson. Dawson played the fourth most games as an Expo that anybody ever will, was the Rookie of the Year with them in 1977, and is the only expo ever to hit 200 home runs and steal 200 bases. A five point player, and eight time Gold Glove Award winner, the Hawk could do it all and finished second beind Mike Schmidt in the 1981 MVP voting. Dawson stands with only Willie Mays and Barry Bonds in the 400 home runs/300 stolen bases club.
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