9/19/2012 – tales from the clubhouse vol XVII

Yet another reason to come see and hear us. We promise not to piss off any muslims by making fun of Muhammad via poorly dubbed You Tube videos. I’m not sure how we can make this more inviting for you all.

So yea….it’s getting to be that time. We hope to pack the V Spot with loads of wild-eyed freeloaders and moochers who don’t pay any taxes. If that’s you, we’re you’re band. We’re an anarcho-syndicalist commune, and we’ve kept things so low key so far we’re not on any FBI watch lists. You’re completely safe in our hands….although your ears may ring for 3 days afterwards. But take it from someone who has learned to lip read. It’s totally worth it.

Plus if my Steelers beat the Raiders this week, Wiggy, who is a degenerate Oakland fan, has agreed to play the entire show with an official terrible towel draped over his amp. That alone should be worth the 5 buck cover charge. I’m not sure what I’ll be forced to do if the Raiders win. I didn’t even pay attention to that part of the bet because the mere thought of it is so retarded.

Oh, I just found out today that we’ve thought of everything except what we’re going to use for a PA system. Not to worry. Such niggling details have a way of working themselves out. If need be I’ll just sing really really loud and ask Condel to not be so violent.

Lenny is supposedly back from wherever it was he disappeared to for the last 2 weeks. Not that I’ve heard from him mind you. The only time I see or hear from Lenny is when he’s standing next to me playing his bass, or when it’s my round and he’s waiting for me to buy him some high-brow beer that costs about triple what the 47% drink.

Condel has completely gone AWOL. Last I saw him he was high on some mountain (ok…that can be taken multiple ways, but whatever) playing “No Woman No Cry” on a borrowed acoustic guitar to some girl with crossed-eyes. I left him to it.

Wiggy is my only contact….but when the Raiders lose he becomes unbearable, which of course means that he’s been unbearable for a few weeks and has about 3 months to go. I’m all alone here…..writing sad little acoustic ditties and singing them into my 8 track Yamaha. It’s therapy. Or whatever. Some people go see a shrink. Some people drink until their gills explode. Some people listen to the radio. I write sad little acoustic ditties and record them on my 8 track Yamaha.

I should mention Vinnie, the grand high exalted mystic ruler of the V Spot. I’ve always mention Vinnie in this blog, so it’s bad luck not to keep doing so. Vinnie is the guy who booked my band into his bar. His “evidence” that we didn’t suck balls consisted of a CD (it’s a good CD, you should buy it…especially since you don’t pay any fucking taxes) and me texting him over and over saying “you should book us”. Vinnie has dealt with lots of bands who sound good on record but live turn into a musical bar brawl. So I knew he was hesitant. Especially when he found out I was from Dunmore and used to hang out at Clarke’s bar. He got into a fight there one night and is convinced it was me he either punched out or was punched out by (he never mentioned the outcome). It wasn’t me. I’m a guitar player, not a fighter. But he keeps looking at me sideways….the way a dog does when you make a weird noise. Vinnie had hair back then, by the way. But it’s nowhere near luxurious as his mane is now.

Vinnie is what writers call “good copy”. I’m the son of a writer. Pop was a journalist. He loved guys who were “good copy”. Nick Karabin and George Banks were good copy. Karabin used to send my Dad Christmas cards from prison. To me Vinnie is every bit as interesting as these guys….and he doesn’t even have to resort to the mass murder thing. A good thing for him too….running a bar and all. But then again….his place is in Scranton. Not sure the clientele would hold it against him. A non-judgemental crowd. Emphasis on that 2nd syllable there.

So….that’s that I guess. Buy the fucking CD will you?

In a bit..

–tf

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