Friday, June 20, 2003
ROCKET BOY AND BRIDGET THE MIDGET
(note: the original text to this post was lost to inferior technology - this is merely a re-creation based on memory.)
The 16th annual Mondo Video A Go Go Fathers Day Open Mike is in the books and it looks like the D-Squad has a nice little two gig winning streak in LA going. It was an evening that oozed punk rock in most of its coherent forms, along with the thrill of watching succeeding bands dare to plug in on a stage (well, in this case, floor) already littered with tortilla shards and gooey food substances.
If I did one thing correctly with the Mondo gig, it was that I insisted on an agreed upon time slot. I didn't want to have to come down and hassle with other bands trying to strong arm each other over set time. So I talked with Ereck one night and we decided that opening the program at 6:00 was good with everyone. When I arrived at about a quarter till I found the band next door at Pizza Paul, located on the corner of Melrose and Heliotrope, and was informed that the PA head had blown a fuse and that a replacement was on the way. This didn't hurt us either, as about a half-dozen bands and their followers were forced to mass on the sidewalk or back parking lot or wherever and wait. The build up of anticipation is always welcome. Besides, we were the unknown in this equation. This happens occasionally, and it is always to our advantage. I don't need throngs of sycophants, just give me a crowd starved for entertainment - we'll do the rest.
In the meantime, we got a chance to absorb the fascinating world of Mondo Video and their wacky clientele. If you have doubts of Mondo's credibility as a first rate porn outlet, let me guarantee you they have everything. I'm glad I live far away because I would be there every night - and I don't even watch porn anymore. I became a bit of a connoisseur back when I worked for Music Plus in the 80's, and even trucked out to Vegas a couple of times for the VSDA conventions, which always had a buttload of porn stars available for pictures and autographs. When I saw such 80's classics as "New Wave Hookers" and "Let Me Tell Ya About Black Chicks" I knew I was in the right place. But Mondo has all eras and genres and by the time I found the covers that just showed women's butts positioned over bedpans - well, you just don't get that down at the Video Paradiso you know.
And I knew the show was going to be good when, while walking up the sidewalk, some kid yelled "Panda Man!" and I thought initially it was somebody who had just seen us at Qtopia's but no, this kid saw at Warped Tour 2001 in San Diego. His glee at stumbling upon us again was almost as great as mine. Just before the show, as they were tweaking the replacement PA, some regulars came up and said a few words, including Rocket Boy, who is hardly a boy - I would peg him at being 50-something - reading some kind of foul poetry. Then some guy was trying to get by and he asked if I would please inform the crowd that "Johnny Armstrong was here" and that he was looking for females 18+ for some type of video work, it wasn't clear what. The Mondo crowd greeted Johnny with a certain type of reverence that, based on the catalog at hand, made you wonder what perversions Johnny could coax out his models. A web search reveals that he may have collaborated on a movie with Annie Sprinkle.
Then it was time for the D-Squad. It was a funky set-up. Hayes had to use a hand truck for a mike stand, although Rocket Boy offered to be a human mike stand for the show, which we appreciated but declined. And the PA, although functional, was cutting out every other lyric, undermining somewhat the integrity of our songs (yeah, right!) bit honestly, once the tortillas start flying who really pays attention to that? And we had those bastards in the palm of our hands and had just finished a stellar version of "No Pussy Tonight" when damned if the PA shorted out again. This bothered me, as it cut short our momentum, even as we were preparing for our grand finale. Great, more problems beyond our control. But, undaunted, Laura said we could just plug the mike into her bass rig and in the time it took to find a three-prong adaptor we were back in business. "Best Ass" is always a polarizing song, I love the way some dudes will just walk out, but "Drug Problem" always brings them back. My new move, hinted at in the last post, turns out to be a special Green-colored Hershey's syrup, issued to help promote "The Hulk" . I had bought it thinking that they made the damn thing just for me, but I never tested it out until just before the Friday show, and it didn't work like I wanted it too. It came out all black, which was kind of a drag because I had switched from my customary Green and Orange cake icing to Black and Red. Black so that I could show people that I like to "eat my own shit" and Red so that I could show that I liked my stools bloody. (Look folks, it's just an act) Then comes the Green syrup, but if it's Black then you can see the dilemma. Whatever. It worked nonetheless and I benefited from having several cute blond girls sitting up close, so I was able to nail them with whipped cream. Then comes the Panda Man/Bikini Girl wrestling match - man, some of this stuff is just a no-brainer. We finish to thundering applause. Considering only about a half-dozen people had seen us before, I'd call it a success. Well, Laura did mention something about getting shocked in the mouth, but as I told her, "Yeah, like that's the first time that's ever happened."
It was a hot sweaty gig and inside Mondo it was about a hundred and twenty degrees, so everyone huddled outside on the sidewalk, and it looked like a punk rock homeless encampment, with guys in colored Mohawks drinking beers and eating tortillas from off the ground. Actually, that was the bass player of Kastle Greyskull, who was playing later. I went around to the parking lot and these guys were sitting around taking shots of Ballantine's, which they offered me and I politely declined. I was introduced to a somewhat fey gentleman named Eric who I was told was a connoisseur of "fecal-related" movies. And I'm thinking, why would I want to know that? Then I realize, "Oh yeah, the eat shit thing" Man, talk about having someone call your bluff. Anyhow, Eric seemed to like me a lot and even offered to "lick syrup off my tight stomach" or words to that effect, which I also declined, although I wondered aloud why he couldn't be a real female, instead of all the fake ones that seem to habituate the place. It's no secret, queers dig the Panda Man, all the way back to the days of the Limbo Lounge, and although that is flattering, it ain't going to happen. I estimate that about one out of every 3,000 females dig the Panda Man, but when only a half dozen or so come to a show, you can do the math on that one. Oh well.
But it was nice to come back and watch the succeeding bands try to build upon our momentum. I forget who played next, they had a bunch of their own crowd there, but no one seemed too enthused. Things picked up with Kastle Grey Skull, but only when lead singer Bridget the Midget (at least that's who they told me it was), resplendent with a microphone in one hand a bottle of Boone's Farm in another, started screaming at everyone, starting with her bass player, who replied "Fuck you! Start singing better!" Then she turned her anger on the crowd because they were not worthy of the entertainment and demanded that some leave the building. All this drunken vitriol served them well, as they cranked the energy level up a notch, and virtually insured a future gig with the D-Squad, should the occasion arise. (I'd like to see them at the Press!)
After that I'd had just about enough, especially when I found I'd received a $40 parking ticket for my time. The gig was summed up by the guitar player of Kastle, who took an initial look at us and wondered what the hell was going on (we have that effect on people), until we hit the first note. "It's not about what you wear or what color your hair is" was his message, something that nascent punkers should keep in mind, especially if they are planning to start a band. But before I left I was rifling through the Mondo video selection, the non-porn side, and I stumbled upon some old Mondo get-togethers from several years ago, stuff with Glen Meadmore and the Goddess Bunny - people we gigged with at the old Limbo Lounge. Then I realized these people were old buddies with our friend, the late great Cosmic Danielle, well to us he was plain old Danny Hernandez. This was the crowd he hung out with, although they insisted on referring to Danny as "she". Well, whatever works.
I drove off and was planning to stop at the Stater Bros. to get food for Kitty, then I realized I hadn't washed up after the show, so I was still all black and red and green and to the uneducated it looks like I was involved in some kind of union-busting violence, so I had to pass.
(note: the original text to this post was lost to inferior technology - this is merely a re-creation based on memory.)
The 16th annual Mondo Video A Go Go Fathers Day Open Mike is in the books and it looks like the D-Squad has a nice little two gig winning streak in LA going. It was an evening that oozed punk rock in most of its coherent forms, along with the thrill of watching succeeding bands dare to plug in on a stage (well, in this case, floor) already littered with tortilla shards and gooey food substances.
If I did one thing correctly with the Mondo gig, it was that I insisted on an agreed upon time slot. I didn't want to have to come down and hassle with other bands trying to strong arm each other over set time. So I talked with Ereck one night and we decided that opening the program at 6:00 was good with everyone. When I arrived at about a quarter till I found the band next door at Pizza Paul, located on the corner of Melrose and Heliotrope, and was informed that the PA head had blown a fuse and that a replacement was on the way. This didn't hurt us either, as about a half-dozen bands and their followers were forced to mass on the sidewalk or back parking lot or wherever and wait. The build up of anticipation is always welcome. Besides, we were the unknown in this equation. This happens occasionally, and it is always to our advantage. I don't need throngs of sycophants, just give me a crowd starved for entertainment - we'll do the rest.
In the meantime, we got a chance to absorb the fascinating world of Mondo Video and their wacky clientele. If you have doubts of Mondo's credibility as a first rate porn outlet, let me guarantee you they have everything. I'm glad I live far away because I would be there every night - and I don't even watch porn anymore. I became a bit of a connoisseur back when I worked for Music Plus in the 80's, and even trucked out to Vegas a couple of times for the VSDA conventions, which always had a buttload of porn stars available for pictures and autographs. When I saw such 80's classics as "New Wave Hookers" and "Let Me Tell Ya About Black Chicks" I knew I was in the right place. But Mondo has all eras and genres and by the time I found the covers that just showed women's butts positioned over bedpans - well, you just don't get that down at the Video Paradiso you know.
And I knew the show was going to be good when, while walking up the sidewalk, some kid yelled "Panda Man!" and I thought initially it was somebody who had just seen us at Qtopia's but no, this kid saw at Warped Tour 2001 in San Diego. His glee at stumbling upon us again was almost as great as mine. Just before the show, as they were tweaking the replacement PA, some regulars came up and said a few words, including Rocket Boy, who is hardly a boy - I would peg him at being 50-something - reading some kind of foul poetry. Then some guy was trying to get by and he asked if I would please inform the crowd that "Johnny Armstrong was here" and that he was looking for females 18+ for some type of video work, it wasn't clear what. The Mondo crowd greeted Johnny with a certain type of reverence that, based on the catalog at hand, made you wonder what perversions Johnny could coax out his models. A web search reveals that he may have collaborated on a movie with Annie Sprinkle.
Then it was time for the D-Squad. It was a funky set-up. Hayes had to use a hand truck for a mike stand, although Rocket Boy offered to be a human mike stand for the show, which we appreciated but declined. And the PA, although functional, was cutting out every other lyric, undermining somewhat the integrity of our songs (yeah, right!) bit honestly, once the tortillas start flying who really pays attention to that? And we had those bastards in the palm of our hands and had just finished a stellar version of "No Pussy Tonight" when damned if the PA shorted out again. This bothered me, as it cut short our momentum, even as we were preparing for our grand finale. Great, more problems beyond our control. But, undaunted, Laura said we could just plug the mike into her bass rig and in the time it took to find a three-prong adaptor we were back in business. "Best Ass" is always a polarizing song, I love the way some dudes will just walk out, but "Drug Problem" always brings them back. My new move, hinted at in the last post, turns out to be a special Green-colored Hershey's syrup, issued to help promote "The Hulk" . I had bought it thinking that they made the damn thing just for me, but I never tested it out until just before the Friday show, and it didn't work like I wanted it too. It came out all black, which was kind of a drag because I had switched from my customary Green and Orange cake icing to Black and Red. Black so that I could show people that I like to "eat my own shit" and Red so that I could show that I liked my stools bloody. (Look folks, it's just an act) Then comes the Green syrup, but if it's Black then you can see the dilemma. Whatever. It worked nonetheless and I benefited from having several cute blond girls sitting up close, so I was able to nail them with whipped cream. Then comes the Panda Man/Bikini Girl wrestling match - man, some of this stuff is just a no-brainer. We finish to thundering applause. Considering only about a half-dozen people had seen us before, I'd call it a success. Well, Laura did mention something about getting shocked in the mouth, but as I told her, "Yeah, like that's the first time that's ever happened."
It was a hot sweaty gig and inside Mondo it was about a hundred and twenty degrees, so everyone huddled outside on the sidewalk, and it looked like a punk rock homeless encampment, with guys in colored Mohawks drinking beers and eating tortillas from off the ground. Actually, that was the bass player of Kastle Greyskull, who was playing later. I went around to the parking lot and these guys were sitting around taking shots of Ballantine's, which they offered me and I politely declined. I was introduced to a somewhat fey gentleman named Eric who I was told was a connoisseur of "fecal-related" movies. And I'm thinking, why would I want to know that? Then I realize, "Oh yeah, the eat shit thing" Man, talk about having someone call your bluff. Anyhow, Eric seemed to like me a lot and even offered to "lick syrup off my tight stomach" or words to that effect, which I also declined, although I wondered aloud why he couldn't be a real female, instead of all the fake ones that seem to habituate the place. It's no secret, queers dig the Panda Man, all the way back to the days of the Limbo Lounge, and although that is flattering, it ain't going to happen. I estimate that about one out of every 3,000 females dig the Panda Man, but when only a half dozen or so come to a show, you can do the math on that one. Oh well.
But it was nice to come back and watch the succeeding bands try to build upon our momentum. I forget who played next, they had a bunch of their own crowd there, but no one seemed too enthused. Things picked up with Kastle Grey Skull, but only when lead singer Bridget the Midget (at least that's who they told me it was), resplendent with a microphone in one hand a bottle of Boone's Farm in another, started screaming at everyone, starting with her bass player, who replied "Fuck you! Start singing better!" Then she turned her anger on the crowd because they were not worthy of the entertainment and demanded that some leave the building. All this drunken vitriol served them well, as they cranked the energy level up a notch, and virtually insured a future gig with the D-Squad, should the occasion arise. (I'd like to see them at the Press!)
After that I'd had just about enough, especially when I found I'd received a $40 parking ticket for my time. The gig was summed up by the guitar player of Kastle, who took an initial look at us and wondered what the hell was going on (we have that effect on people), until we hit the first note. "It's not about what you wear or what color your hair is" was his message, something that nascent punkers should keep in mind, especially if they are planning to start a band. But before I left I was rifling through the Mondo video selection, the non-porn side, and I stumbled upon some old Mondo get-togethers from several years ago, stuff with Glen Meadmore and the Goddess Bunny - people we gigged with at the old Limbo Lounge. Then I realized these people were old buddies with our friend, the late great Cosmic Danielle, well to us he was plain old Danny Hernandez. This was the crowd he hung out with, although they insisted on referring to Danny as "she". Well, whatever works.
I drove off and was planning to stop at the Stater Bros. to get food for Kitty, then I realized I hadn't washed up after the show, so I was still all black and red and green and to the uneducated it looks like I was involved in some kind of union-busting violence, so I had to pass.
Wednesday, June 18, 2003
BLOGGER SUCKS
Well, I just spent two hours plus writing and linking a great story about our Mondo Video experience over the weekend and what should happen but, in the process of creating links and going back and forth, about half of it was wiped out in a single click of the mouse. This has happened before, but that was sort of my fault. This time it was just plain technology failure. I have discovered the hard way now at least three times that Blogger, Blogspot, whatever the fuck it is, has A) no system for saving work and B) no chance to find stuff completely wiped out for no goddamn reason. This totally and completely sucks. Yes, I can rewrite the portion that was lost, although I had to save what was left onto my email, for god sakes, but how many times in the future will this happen and how many hours will I lose?
I would write to Blogger Control about it but I did that once and, like every other cyberspace portal that claims it is there to help, I received no answer.
Fuck you Blogger, and your crappy software. If the idea was to intice me to pay money for a premium service, you're not going to get it, not now anyway. Anybody know of a better server? In a day or two, however long it takes me to get over my anger and disappointment, I'll once again attempt to document the story. If I have to write everything out in fucking long hand from here on out I will, but that will mean less posts and less stories. Fucking unbelievable!
Well, I just spent two hours plus writing and linking a great story about our Mondo Video experience over the weekend and what should happen but, in the process of creating links and going back and forth, about half of it was wiped out in a single click of the mouse. This has happened before, but that was sort of my fault. This time it was just plain technology failure. I have discovered the hard way now at least three times that Blogger, Blogspot, whatever the fuck it is, has A) no system for saving work and B) no chance to find stuff completely wiped out for no goddamn reason. This totally and completely sucks. Yes, I can rewrite the portion that was lost, although I had to save what was left onto my email, for god sakes, but how many times in the future will this happen and how many hours will I lose?
I would write to Blogger Control about it but I did that once and, like every other cyberspace portal that claims it is there to help, I received no answer.
Fuck you Blogger, and your crappy software. If the idea was to intice me to pay money for a premium service, you're not going to get it, not now anyway. Anybody know of a better server? In a day or two, however long it takes me to get over my anger and disappointment, I'll once again attempt to document the story. If I have to write everything out in fucking long hand from here on out I will, but that will mean less posts and less stories. Fucking unbelievable!
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