Ya Gotsta Kick at the Darkness Till It Bleeds Daylight, and Don Felder.

So, I’m standing in front of the hotel waiting for the shuttle to pick me up to take me to the stage where I’ll be playing tonight. I’m playing a celebrity golf tournament after party. I’m smoking a cigarette and making small talk with another guy waiting for the shuttle.

Our management told us to prepare a couple of songs because Don Felder from the Eagles would be there, some guy who is famous south of the border and one of the guys from Survivor. Strangely enough they told us to only plan a couple of tunes, One for Felder and one for South of the Border. Nothing for Survivor.

---

“Oh I’d have to be really drunk to play with you guys?” laughed the Survivor guy.

---

So this guy and I strike up a conversation

“You waitin’ on the bus” said the dude.

“Yeah, you too ?” I replied

“Yup”

“I’m Sammy Roan, I’m in the band tonight,” shaking hands.

“I’m *Joe Blow (I can’t remember his name as I write this) I’m the guy from Survivor”

“Great to meet you. Are ya gonna hop up a play a tune with us?”

“Oh I’d have to be really drunk to play with you guys?” laughed the Survivor guy.

My inner musical ego just got pimp slapped from some dude who sings lyrics like;

I’ve been holding back the night (how is this done exactly and how will this affect your current romantic situation?)
and
Piercin’ eyes, like a raven *translation. You have bird eyes, just like the crows eating out of a dumpster

… eye roll. 80’s pop crap….

She looked kinda like this I guess…

“We aren’t THAT bad dude, It’s not like we couldn’t whip out freakin’ “Eye of the Tiger” I replied with righteous indignation.

The guy starts laughing his ass off and says “Man, I’m from the TV SHOW Survivor.”

So I made an ass out of myself to a stranger. I played Johnny B. Goode with the guy who wrote Hotel California and I drank beers with some dude from Survivor. Don hit on our guitar player’s girlfriend and that’s about all I remember.

The moral of the story; Everyone who is from Survivor can not necessarily play Eye of the Tiger.

 

---

I felt my first twinge of depression this week. I haven’t felt any since returning to California. Scared the shit out of me. What if it gets real bad again? What if I start fucking up, what if I lose my job, along with other various fears and over reactions.

I work in a part of town that is populated by the super rich. I see more Porsches in a day that I have my entire life. Being a white-trash, non practicing Rockabilly, I would swap the Porsche for a rusty, E flat, rat rod with a four foot gear shift, dually tires and blowin’ enough black smoke that there is a permanent hole in the ozone over it.

A few times a week this guy with one arm comes in. British dude. Always is cool, buys a couple of tall boys and makes some chit chat and gets on his bicycle and leaves.

Last Saturday he comes in late and, said he just got back from LA and was glad to be home. It’s just me and him. He knows I’m a musician and he says he and his wife are putting together a group and wondered if I might be interested.

“Depending on the music, maybe”. He said it was Americana stuff, and I said “Hell Yeah, lets do it!” We talked about music a bit, we swap numbers and I finally ask “Hey man, what’s your name? I’m Sammy” He replies “Rick.”  then he turns around and walks out of the store and says on his way out “Ya know the band Def Leppard? One arm drummer…”

Holy shit! I had a poster of this guy on my wall as a kid. I loved the album Pyromania. It was one of the first tapes I bought back in the day.

Def Leppard

In case you didn’t know, Rick Allen is the drummer for Def Leppard. His story is  inspirational. In between albums Rick was in a car crash and lost his arm. His band WAITED on him to recover. They wouldn’t replace him. He was going to have to quit.

Rick ended up putting together a drum kit where he could play with one arm and had foot pedals that would play the parts that his missing right arm used to play. He got up to speed and joined the band as they put out Hysteria, and became the biggest band in the world at the time (88-89)

What an amazing show of friendship from the guys in Def Leppard and what an amazing drive to not let his handicap stop him from drumming. Both admirable traits. Even though my Def Leppard years were way behind me, ya gotta respect that.

They needed a slide guitarist. “Sure. I can play slide” maybe exaggerating a little… so I stopped by the hardware store on my break and had them cut me off a piece of copper tubing the length of my third finger, went home, tuned the guitar to open D and looked up a few slide licks stolen directly from Duane Allman.

---

“Sure. I can play slide” maybe exaggerating a little… so I stopped by the hardware store on my break and had them cut me off a piece of copper tubing the length of my third finger, went home, tuned the guitar to open D and looked up a few slide licks stolen directly from Duane Allman.

I figure three licks will be enough to pass myself off as a real slide player….

---

I figure three licks will be enough to pass myself off as a real slide player, the rest I’ll learn later. (I have played slide guitar before but only on a basic level) I got them down and was ready to stop by the studio. Filled with excitement I kept that slide in my pocket everyday. This could be a great gig playing with Rick Allen.

I stopped off one day at the studio and met the owner for the first time. He had put together a band for Rick (that didn’t include me.  He didn’t even know me.) He said they were doing original material for gigs around the area. Come by tomorrow and meet the rest of the band.

I grabbed a thumb drive and popped on three of my finished songs plus one that was music only, no lyrics, if she wanted to write to it, and a song by my friend George Ozier called “Question Is.” I had a hit song for them with “Question Is”  put my five song demo in my pocket and was ready. Between myself and a group of friends I have access to enough great songwriting to keep them busy for years. I was on pins and needles waiting for this. Stomach in a knot.

That same day I got some really bad news about a close friend. His days are numbered. I have shared a million miles of road with him, dozens of concerts, nights out on the town and best of all listened as he told story after story. A natural. Cumberland County’s Mark Twain with a button on his shirt that read “Question Authority” and the greatest concert and band t-shirt collection ever. He is supposed to leave me those in his will we joked years ago. I never thought that he may need one soon. Heart broken and sharing stories with old band mates who also love this guy, we are all at kind of a loss.  Hope I don’t have to go to court to get those T-shirts. It was a verbal agreement.

---

Cumberland County’s Mark Twain with a button on his shirt that read “Question Authority”

---

The same knot was there just the reasons have changed. My close friend is dying.

The next day I took the slide out of my pocket, stopped by the studio listened to a couple of songs and met the band, handed Ricks wife my five songs and said, “I gotta go to work”

Everything had come into focus. I don’t want to play slide. Even after hearing them I wasn’t blown away by the music, not that it wasn’t good but I played with George Ozier, Matt Poss, Isaiah Edwards, Tommy Dunn. THESE GUYS CAN WRITE A SONG!! I can write a damn good song. Great musical ideas, clever, funny, poignant… you name it, they have written it. I have to bring my A game when I play my material for them.

I’ve played with drummers like Kent Aberle and Brendan Gamble. Two drummers who’ll put that kick drum right up your ass while laying the smack down on the snare. I’ve never played with better. Jim Thompson never failed to bring it. Great player.

I stood toe to toe with guitar god George Lynch and held my own but Wally Hooker, Jon Clarkson can play that shit, and I played with them for years. Garrie Carlen is the most underrated guitarist in Illinois. Doug Evans is still my favorite bass player and we started together in a garage. Bobby Reynolds is the best slide player I know and most of America knows. I can call him anytime.

Blow Daddy!!!! Dr. Shane Pitsch

The horn players in Dr Wu are unbelievable musicians and writers. Pat Lee is a lot like me. He’s not schooled like the others but he has that Jr. Walker style of sax playing down. That’s what I want to hear anyway.

One of the top 10 concert/shows I have ever been to was hearing J.B. Faries’ band, Huck Fate, play a set at The Top Of The Rock in Charleston Illinois. The power and performance that came from that band hit you in the chest like a freight train. Awe inspiring. It was THAT good.

So yeah, it would be a notch in my belt to say I played with a guy from Def Leppard, but I have and still play with the best. It may not impress the neighbors as much, but the circle of players I have worked with blow most of the famous ones I have played with away or are at least on that level.

The knot is gone and if they call that’s cool but the people that I want to impress are the same ones I want to have beers with, talk about old times, great gigs, bad gigs, and who I love way beyond their talent, which is as mighty as anyone you have ever heard.

“Time is Tight” as Booker T and the MG’s said. My heart isn’t into it. I have a friend who I’m concerned about, I’ve decided to write and record a new album, and I’m still getting used to my new city.  Once I realized this, the depression subsided, I feel great again, and am just going to do what I want to do and not worry about impressing anyone but the people I mentioned before.

My resume as a musician is long and has many high points on it. I’m very proud of it. I’m not going to waste what took me all this time by pursuing a gig I don’t really want. It’s not fair to Rick’s band either. I think I’ll suggest we just have some beers instead of jamming. After all, I know what he likes to drink.

---

New album coming. I have about half of it written. I have a sound in my head that I’m going to attempt to capture. I’ll also lay out thoughts on fear, sadness, love, and great times. Just so someone can say “This is a piece of crap” and toss it away. Fuck em. I bet I don’t like your band either.

Stay close, know that I am fine and through my friends and family, I’m getting stronger everyday.

If you hear of anyone needing a three impressive licks on slide guitar have em give me a call. But don’t let them listen too closely to the Allman Brothers Statesboro Blues.

Here is how I did it… Ya gotta love YouTube

 

 

Why does Music Scare the Hell Out Of Our Government?

Victor Jara. Singer, poet, activist

In the early 1970’s there was a Chilean teacher, theater director, poet, singer-songwriter, and political activist named Victor Jara (pronounced HAR-a.) He was a leading member of a group of folk musicians who established the Nueva Canción Chilena (New Chilean Song) movement. This led to an uprising of new sounds in popular music during the administration of President Salvador Allende and made Victor Jara a famous singer in Chile.

On September 11^th, 1973 a CIA-backed coup d’état brought down the democratic Allende Government.

The Chilean military quickly arrested Victor Jara along with other leftists groups. They took them to the Santiago Stadium and locked them inside.

As the crowd waited Victor Jara, guitar in hand, led the prisoners in song after song to help ease the fear. One of the soldiers recognized Jara. He was taken to the center of the stadium and with the butt of their rifles, the soldiers smashed his hands. Afterward they  said “Let’s hear another song Victor.” And “Play your guitar for us Victor” Then a soldier pulled out a pistol and shot Victor Jara in the head.

After his murder, Jara’s body was displayed at the entrance of Chile Stadium for other prisoners to see.  He was 37. His songs were about love, peace and social injustice. Songs scared his government so much they had him murdered to stop his voice from being heard.

The Clash

Please remember Victor Jara,
In the Santiago Stadium,
Es verdad – those Washington Bullets again.
~The Clash

---

I must have read it a hundred times. Entertainers need to keep their mouths shut. You are to be wound up, enjoyed and put away.

~~Bob Marley had an attempt on his life that was politically motivated.
~~Woody Guthrie wrote this ‘Land is Your Land.’ Look up ALL the verses to this song. It’s about socialism.
~~Springsteen wrote ‘Born in the USA.’ President Reagan used it (without permission) as a song to rile up his crowds. Too bad no one on Reagan’s staff bothered to listen to the lyrics. It is a bleak picture of Reagan’s America.
~~’We Shall Overcome’ was sung by the Civil Rights Marchers in the Sixties.
~~ Pete Seeger was blacklisted for not snitching on his peers in the McCarthy hearings.

Burl Ives. Folk singer, snitch, canary, deep throat, fink, informant, nark, rat, rat fink, informer, snitcher, squealer, stoolie, stool pigeon, talebearer, tattler, tattletale, telltale, whistle-blower and all around general bastard.

Luckily Burl Ives came in and sang like a canary. This is why you see Burl in ‘Cat on a Hot Tin Roof’ and you don’t hear Pete Seegar as the Snowman in ‘Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’ in fact, you didn’t see him for close to fifteen years. Thanks Burl. I love pissing off of the Burl Ives Bridge any chance I get.
~~James Brown stopped Detroit from rioting after MLK was killed by playing his show live on the radio.
~~Sammy Davis Jr. arguably the most gifted entertainer of all time worked as the first black entertainer in Vegas. After selling out his shows at the Sands he would have to go stay at a hotel across town because the Sands didn’t allow n****rs in their hotel.
~~The CIA has a file on John Lennon.
~~Bob Dylan had something to say…

They all scared the living shit out of their leaders. Music. If we are entertainers why do you care if we protest and join a cause? Because we know something that you know too. You can’t live without music in your life and sometimes that music has a message. It’s been that way since the first caveman beat on a log in 4/4 time.

Around 1982 A waitress from Detroit hopped onstage with thrift store clothes and a piece of pop fluff she called a song. She turned that into  ½ a billion dollars. Madonna had no  million dollar start up. No TV show to make her famous in six weeks. She didn’t have producers fixing her vocals. She negotiated million dollar deals constantly, then she hopped her happy ass on a tour bus and spent years on the road.

She is a self-made millionaire who took her shot and made it. 30 years later she is a Superstar. From Ramen to riches

Trump’s dad gave him a small million dollar loan and a bunch of cronies. But Madonna is the one who should shut up because she’s an entertainer…. SHe doesn’t know what it’s like to be one of us like Trump does.

Anyone here ever been to Detroit? Then you know what I mean.

To quote Madonna “FUCK!”

In physics, string theory is a theoretical framework in which the point-like particles of particle physics are replaced by one-dimensional objects called strings. It describes how these strings propagate through space and interact with each other.

I am an American
I have the right to speak, even if it isn’t what you want to hear.
I am an activist. I act on things that are important to me. Your lack of empathy won’t stop me. Your apathy is what I’m counting on.
I am not a jukebox or a toy. I am a skilled entertainer with the broken hearts and scars that go with it.
I am informed. Musicians don’t listen to music after a gig. Talk radio is king or silence. I listen to a lot of news.
I read. I can tell the difference between a fact and an opinion. I don’t need led by the nose.
No, I don’t have to see it your way.
I don’t believe in Alt-truths any more than you do.
I don’t have it any easier than you do.
I have sacrificed to become the entertainer I am. I know what it means to be poor.
I am educated and smart.
I won’t accept lack of compassion as an excuse.
I know shit from Shinola so don’t piss on my President and tell me it’s raining.
….And I can play a bad ass fucking guitar
–S.

Like Share Comment. What do you think? Why does music scare our leaders?

Madonna…. Keep preaching sister. What is this? An entertainer expressing her view? I thought putting a boot in your ass was the American way?

Trumped at My Own Game. A Trolling Gone Very Wrong

What is trolling in social media?

A social media troll, by definition, is someone who creates conflict on sites like Twitter, Facebook and Reddit by posting messages that are particularly controversial or inflammatory with the sole intent of provoking an emotional (read: angry) response from other users.

I was taught to troll by a Master Troller who we’ll call ‘John’. This is not his real name. His real name is Jon.

We troll groups that deserve a trolling. Hate groups mainly. We do it for fun, a hobby, a time waster, make each other laugh, and to try and top the last troll the other guy did. It is a form of cyberbullying, but it’s like cyber bullying the Westboro Baptist Church. That OK. No innocent people are harmed in White Hat Trollling.

John successfully disrupted a group of snooty self-impressed acoustic guitarists back when this was all done on a forum. He taught me to troll with intent. Use my own intellect, talents and Google to make these people miserable while manipulating the group. Give them enough rope and haters will turn on themselves.

I have trolled everything from Anti-LGBT sites to Gene Simmon’s fans. I never had one blow up on me like this…

I found a group of Donald Trump fans who were calling Michelle Obama’s MOTHER the worst names you can call a black person while feeling this false sense of pride like Trump himself was watching them. The group was called “The Basket of Deplorables” an obvious play on what Hillary Clinton had called Trump supporters. The group was not even hiding the fact that they were a hate group. Screaming racial epithets at any shade of brown darker than a paper bag, hailing fake news as real and real news as fake. 

They would ask questions like “Should I be able to fly an American Flag on my property any time I want?” followed by HUNDREDS of “Hell Yeahs” and “Libtards better try and stop me” This is not a debatable group. No discussions under any of the threads, just “Hell Yeah” and “God Bless Donald Trump.” No lie. Not big thinkers but there were 43,000 of them, so they had numbers.

I made the fake Facebook account. DontTred Fred. Disabled, big Elvis fan, Trump supporter. A few image grabs uploaded and memes posted on my page and I was off. I posted fake stories I asked stupid questions and I hit ‘like’ on every redneck, hate spewing post. I was in.

The Best way to troll is to stay just close enough to find their weak spot and jab it. Play along, so to speak.”Obama started ISIS!!!!!”

This group was a cesspool of ugliness and ignorance. I couldn’t take this much stupidity and hate for long. I told John I was outing myself on Friday.

I would tell them all how I made up the stories and how they are assholes and bigots and puppy kickers. I told them I was going to send those racist posts to their places of work. That I had more fake profiles to spy on them in the group. I would point out their hypocrisy and they would all feel like fools and then I would waste their time as I sat back and let the hatred of 43,000 Trump supporters massage my feet and those of my high horse.

That is exactly what I did. John joined the group to send me updates when they tossed me from the group. It was time, Tora, Tora, Tora, I wrote John. DontTred Fred posted my Big Meme explaining how I had made them fools. I posted it with the words “Don’t fuck with the King.”. Then I waited.

One guy popped up and said “dumbass.”

I replied “lame. Is that the best you got nimrod?”  Goading the Basket of Deplorables group do their best. Come and kill me in my apartment in Terre Haute Indiana.

Then they started coming in.

“Libtard”
“Trump is still the winner”
“Amazing what the left will do”
“Obummer… 

John hopped in to help get the trolling rolling. He started mirroring them, but as a Trump supporter. IN ALLCAPS RUN ON SENTNCES AND MISPELLED WURDS!!!!!1!!

Where was the burst of hate? Could they see my post? I finally told John in a private message that I was confused. Maybe ten people commented and one of them BUSTED JOHN OUT as a fake.

Slowly I came upon the realization that this simple bunch didn’t know I was trolling them. I called them out and they thought it was about someone else. My plan failed due to incoherence on THEIR part. GUYS! GET MAD!  I THINK YOU SUCK AND ARE IDIOTS! Crickets…

I have had my ass handed to me in a debate, I have been caught as a troll, I convinced a death metal band to change their name, but I have never been outwitted by sheer stupidity and obliviousness. AS I WAS TELLING THEM I WAS DOING IT! 

I’m still in the group. Head down. The troll was slain with slow wit and obliviousness. Well played Trump supporters….Well played.

Donttred Fred. The name is a family name. It’s French/Cajun

Someone turned DontTred Fred into the Facebook Police. They disabled my page until I could provide them proof of my identity. No lie. They wanted a copy of my ID. With Photoshop in hand, my Troll came back to life. Reenergized and ready to jump back into the business of fuckery!

You simple bastards got me this time, but DontTred Fred will be back. Don’t fuck with the King.

Hey, you can have a copy of my last album if you click on the button on the side. Hope you enjoy.

It’s a new Year, I miss my friends especially bad. But it is sunny and my window is open. I hear they are getting an ice storm back home. I love you guys. You know who you are.

Like Follow and all that other stuff. Comment. Do Something for God’s sake!

–Sammy

#deplorables # Trumpsupporters #goldenshowers 

Factcheck.org… A Liberal Rag. My Views on the Woefully Uninformed

The title of this post comes from a discussion I had earlier this week. It’s a Trump world where his supporters are somehow emboldened to say what they want no matter how little they have investigated. Where does this false sense of pride in a grown man’s ignorance come from? Why does he feel he can get personal with my life? It is because his mentality has become mainstream. If Trump can grab a woman’s pussy, then by all means psychoanalyze me.

                         Poor Parenting

My choice to move wasn’t so that I could pee with other liberals. It wasn’t because I’m embarrassed where I come from. It was a mixture of many things.

 

I’ve never hidden my depression and at times it became debilitating. It was chink in the armor the man used. The problem was, it removes the question of his character also. He has none. But his leader can find fault with someone suffering from Muscular Dystrophy then he feels like it’s fair game. Well score one for you.

Somehow this man feels superior in his ignorance and child-like name calling and keyboard warrior-like threats of physical violence. ( A sure sign you are winning an argument). He has no idea how petty I am. You never want to mess with a man who possesses graphic artist skills like mine. Not only could I make a picture of him singing “Lime in the Coconut” while dressed as a penis… I could have it seen by thousands of people…Not wise. Kind of like in the music business, never argue with the soundman. He’s holding a serious hand; you better hope he has mercy.

I use my friends to test out new projects. Thank You Doug. You Da Man!

---

This guy forgot, or maybe never considered that the town I love and the people I see and also love, became a constant reminder of dark days. Not their fault at all. A trifecta of heart breaks leaving me numb to any sort of love in my heart for years. That my one constant, music, had become something I dreaded due to burnout and lack of inspiration. I stub my toe on the ACME Anvil that is in the form of a half-finished album. I just don’t have the words. Here is a demo I have had in the can for two years.

                  This is what I see when I go to a concert.

   These people made me a better musician and have all been great friends.

For 25 years I have been in the smile business. I sell smiles. Here, have one on me. Looks good on you. Have another. I did it with a guitar and some of the most talented and grooviest people in the world. Some people get their smiles from riding a Harley, or mudding in a Jeep. They get it in a sport. They let it loose as a fan. What happens when that smile is missing from your own life? I worried a lot of people over the years and felt the resentment. I decided I could get by, or get going.

 

My cat Milton and I packed in an hour. And as I gassed up the car I said goodbye to the lady at the Casey’s General Store. I hit St. Louis and took a right. I drove as far as I could without drowning. Like the Joad Family, promises of new starts, new chances, high paying work in my field.

I weighed the two options. I decided to leave it all and go. The  adventure of a lifetime. Going with nowhere to land. Scariest and most exhilarating experience I have ever had.

                            I’m out of here

I know a few people here that are quickly becoming friends of mine. I opened my windows on Christmas Day, and I drove ten minutes down to the Pacific and watched the Sea Otters playing in the kelp. I’m living simply but I am living again. I have guitars, recording equipment, and blank paper. I’ll be using them all.

Not with a smile but with a brazen grin. Because I’m up to no good.

Breaking News: Santa is boycotting the USA 2016

Dec 15th, 2016

Dear Santa,
I have been very good this year. I moved, I told my friends I love them, and I cut my porn viewing in half.

I would like an Evel Knievel motorcycle, like when I was a kid, and some Planet of the Apes stuff. Either the original movies or the new reboot, but not the Tim

I need this.

Burton Planet of the Apes because he sucks as a storyteller. I already have the movies so I would prefer toys. I have an Amazon wishlist if you need help. No grey socks please.

I can’t wait till Christmas to open the presents you brought me. I will leave you cookies and milk incase you are hungry.

Your friend
–Sammy,  13770 Center St. STE 101, Carmel Valley CA 93924

I received this in the mail from Santa.

Dear Sammy,

Blow me, you ain’t gettin’ shit.

What did you do to help anyone? What makes you think that you deserve an Evil Knievel or Planet of the Apes stuff? How do consider yourself a member of the greatest country when you have ignored the suffering of other lives? You have the power and resources to help yet you don’t.

You are a dick.

And what would you like for Christmas little girl? How about a Barbie ?

What did you do when you saw atrocities around the world? Ask friends to help? Yeah like that’ll work. They turn it into a political discussion and pat themselves on the back for who they voted for. Trying to gain points against each other to defend the actions of your leaders who don’t care what you think. You have aligned yourself with a group who cares more about where they can pee than the lives of innocent children.

You are pissed at Starbucks but not at genocide. You boycotted events you weren’t going to, and even in your protest you gave up nothing. You slept like a baby while families with babies plead for your help. You turned your back on them as you spend your extra income buying Secret Santa gifts for people you would have never given a gift to in the first place.

There is a country missing from this chart

You have no problem taking lives, you have a problem saving lives. You have made a point to kick ass over flag burning because it stands for sacrifice, freedom, and the American dream. Good thing you have a symbol of this because your actions show just the opposite. Maybe you should work on generosity, compassion, and empathy and then act on it. Act on it because it’s the right thing to do, not because it will make you a buck.

You spent ten years shoving “Freedom” down Iraq’s throat but won’t cross the street for the people who need the freedom.

You worry about terrorism. This is understandable. You have taken in refugees before. Just not now. You are scared that others will have the same if not more than yourself and you can’t live with that. You don’t even try to come up with a plan. Just keep them away. Let Iraq, Lebanon, and Turkey show their compassion. Then wonder why the refugees align themselves with those who saved them and resent those who didn’t.

You tell me “We have people in need here in America.” True. Very true. You also have a system set up to take care of the poor and needy. It’s called social services and welfare, food stamps, and housing. You refer to these people as leeches. How humanitarian is that? Your kindness comes with the cost of shaming those who need it just because you don’t.

We all agree. You suck!

You pray to gods. You tell yourself it’s fine because you donated a few bucks while everyone was watching at churches but turn your back when they aren’t. There are hundreds of religions. Here is what a few of them say;

Christians               1 John 3:17-18

But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.

Baha’i                       Bahá’u’lláh

O Divine Providence! All existence is begotten by Thy bounty; deprive it not of the waters of Thy generosity, neither do Thou withhold it from the ocean of Thy mercy.

Buddhism

Practice compassion to overcome cruelty. Compassion has the capacity to remove the suffering of others without expecting anything in return.

Confucianism           (Analects of Confucius, Book II.1)

“Let a ruler base his government upon virtuous principles, and he will be like the pole-star, which remains steadfast in its place, while all the host of stars turn towards it.”

Islam

“Every new breath that Allah allows you to take is not just a blessing but also a responsibility”

Hinduism

Tradition says that a place at the table should always be left for atithi (the unexpected guest).

Judaism

To do righteousness and justice is more acceptable to the Lord than sacrifice.

Do any of these religions apply to you?

Give me each day my daily bread and my neighbor’s too, and make sure it comes at the expense of others. In your name we pray. Amen

I know you are an Atheist Sammy. So you don’t have the fear of hell to make you do the right thing. What have you done? Posted a few articles that disturbed people as they shopped Amazon because when it comes to the ones you love, make sure you put as little effort into it as possible. No one wants your homemade gift. Just because you are struggling to make ends meet is no reason not to buy something instead making it yourself. You are ruining the Spirit of Christmas when you do that. What if everybody did that? Christmas would become a commercial joke. Take your song or your artwork and shove them up your ass. Buy a juicer. Something they can return and get the money for.

You have recently had an election. You all were disgusted by your choices. They both were shitty people. Don’t fool yourself, they haven’t cornered the market on being a shitty person.

I could go on but I’m sick to my stomach. You spend the day working and checking Facebook. In that time you could take a minute and call or email your Congressman and pressure him to help. Did you? Sometimes. Did you do it regularly? Nope….

So to wrap it up (no pun intended) Do something next time. Once you know of an atrocity and do nothing, the blood is on your hands as well.

You deserve nothing

Go fuck yourself,
–Santa

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If you decide to help here are some choices:

• Look up My Representative    UNICEF     Red Cross     Global Giving     Catholic Relief Services
  

If you decide not to here are some choices:

• Pinterest      Facebook     Statisticbrain (who are we kidding, No one will read this.) Pornhub       YouTube       Metal Sludge Penis Chart

I fuckin’ hate Christmas
-Sammy

What Was the Best Day of Your Life?

The election has taken its toll on me. I look at people differently. Maybe this simple question will realign how I look at the world.

My 2000th Sound Check….Ugh!

I’m pretty lucky to have had a life of being an entertainer. My job is to make you happy. I’m in the smile business. I’ve always given 100% when it comes to me giving you your money’s worth. I didn’t hit it on the head every time but I sure as hell came into the game with that on my mind.

I picked up my guitar and played it and winked and smiled. I slapped hands, snuck people backstage, told stories, and wrote songs. I juggled; I did magic tricks (I’m a fairly good magician in case you didn’t know) I did it even when there was a party I wanted to go to, or my depression had kept me in bed until I left for the shows. Hiding anxiety and sadness many times so that I wouldn’t let down my band mates or my audience. Some days I hid it better than others, but those are stories for another time.

So let’s think about this. What were the best moments I have known….

My first kiss. I won’t embarrass the young lady that gave it to me. As they said in Stephen King’s “Hearts in Atlantis”; It is the kiss that all other kisses will be measured by.

I was at the Cumberland Co Fair when a girl I knew asked if I wanted to go uptown with her other two friends. I said ‘Sure!” Having a crush on the gal superseded the “Don’t leave the Fairgrounds” instructions that had been laid down by Ma.

We hopped in the back seat and somewhere along that ride she laid a kiss on me that curled my toes. I was so scared. I didn’t give her a feel up or anything, just kept kissing.  I was IN LOVE! I couldn’t sleep for three days. I wasn’t hungry for a week.  It was the last kiss I ever got from her. I’m not sure why? Like it matters. It was perfect for a few minutes.

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For my birthday my Mom bought me a boom box. I was about 13-14 probably and was obsessed with music. I listened to the radio constantly. The radio tuner quit working after a few months.

My Dad wasn’t around much and when he finally came home I asked him to fix it. He’s a handy guy. Got it to working in about ten minutes. About a week later it quit dialing again. No telling when the Old Man was going to show back up at home.

Ma got the screwdriver out and took the boom box apart. She fixed it.

I guess it was at that moment I realized we were going to be okay without my Dad around. Mom and Michelle and I were going to be OK because we didn’t have to wait around for the old man to reappear when he decided to.  Fuck him. The three of us were a pretty good group of people. Better than the barflies and whores my dad spent most of his time with. We didn’t have much but we never felt unloved. Mom made sure of that and I know sacrificed a lot for us and still does to this day.

I played a lot of gigs in my day. Some with huge arena crowds and some to the bar staff. The ones that stand out were the ones that happened when I was coming up.

My first band Bootleg, were playing a little knife and gun club outside of Greenup, IL called El Patio. I had found two huge bags full of these hollow plastic balls with faces on them. They were like a whiffle ball in size and weight. They were called “Ugly Balls”

Bootleg is pumping out tunes like  “All right Now” and “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting” while dodging  Ugly Balls that were being tossed full speed across the bar. I was playing with my best friends Rod, Doug, Bugsy and George to about 50 people who were having a ball. It was the first time I found out I could make OTHERS happy with my limited knowledge of the guitar.

I have always believed that every night the best band in the world is playing their best show ever. The band changes from night to night. I’m happy to say I feel like I have played in the best band in the world a few nights.

My first big indoor show was opening for the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band in Mattoon, IL. Sold out show and my R&B band Dr Wu was opening the show. That band had a great set that we had honed to a razor’s edge. Pat the sax player always said, “Give this band 45 minutes and we could take on anyone.”

Right before we were about to go up the ramp to the stage, Doug Evan’s, my best bud from High School and band mate shook my hand. We started playing together knowing two songs. “Wipe Out” and “Paranoid” All that work was paying off with high paying gigs all over the country and then some. Doug’s handshake that night was different. An epiphany that we had surpassed our dreams. The next 45 minutes we tore the stage up with swinging horns, great tunes, pounding drums and classic R&B music blasting out as only a clueless all white rock  band could. A standing ovation for the open band.

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I met a gal in San Francisco. We saw a jazz concert featuring Esperanza Spalding. I could have sworn once those lights went down, Esperanza played just for the two of us. Lisa agreed. Amazing feeling.

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My main girl Susan came over for my birthday a couple of years ago and made lunch and spent the day just talking stupid stuff. Meeting Susan was one of the best days of my life.

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A buddy sat in on bass one night at a show in Greenup. I asked a girl to dance. It was the closest dance I ever had. Silently two people held on for dear life as we danced to Van Morrison’s ‘Into the Mystic’

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Hands down though, the best day I ever had in my life was the day my girlfriend and future wife, Shannon told me she loved me. She was painfully shy and quiet and the nerve it had to take to say those words had to be one of the toughest things she ever had to say. It was returned in spades.

I will always love her even though we aren’t together anymore. Shannon is one of the greatest women on the entire planet. I miss her sometimes at unexpected moments. She loved me without condition. I screwed it up and a lot of self loathing comes along with it. If I had only not been so scared to get help with my depression instead of running from it till it was too late. She’s living a better life than I could have ever given her. She’s remarried to a good man, she has adopted two babies and I have no doubt those kids won the lottery when they came home with Shannon. A mom who knows nothing but love.

I have love for all my friends, some helped me get up when I was broken down I treasure them for it. I do have the best friends.

So there it is.

Tell me about your best day and let’s forget about hating each other for a minute just to relate a story. I’ll protest tomorrow. Today is all about us. We are all on the same side of the fence when it comes to the best day ever.

Below the video is a link my last album. It’s your’s for the taking. I hope you enjoy it.

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You Have the Mark of Cain in your Underwear

I swear on all that is Holy that I have seen the light. It’s a black light though. The kind you don’t want to turn on in a cheap hotel.

I have been disheartened before, but never like this.

As a musician most of my heroes were black. Jimi Hendrix, Otis Redding, Aretha Franklin, Etta James, Sammy Davis Jr., Miles Davis, John Coltrane,  Howling Wolf… I could go on for days. The music you hear today, YOUR favorite song,  came from these people. I have stood onstage playing with the Shirelles, the first black girl group. Sam Moore, the Soul Man himself. Gene Chandler, The Duke of Earle.

Miles Davis

I’m not saying that I don’t have just as many white musical gods. Van Halen, David Gilmour, Bob Dylan, Steve Earle, Lyle Lovett, THE SCORPIONS! They are soulful players and writers.(Ok that’s a stretch for the Scorps but they made me want to play guitar in the first place) You can draw a line from a Black Southern Baptist Revival to your favorite song.

Little Richard invented Rock and Roll. A homosexual black man during the 50’s. Thank him when you turn on your stereo. Thank him twice when the stereo does the same thing to you.

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When the first rehearsal came with Rock and Roll Hall of Fame member Sam Moore. I shook his hand and told him I couldn’t come up with the words to tell him what an honor it was to be playing behind him. The man popped out classic tune after classic tune. Hold On, I’m Comin’, When Something is wrong with my Baby, I Thank You, Soothe Me, Soul  Sister, Brown Sugar, and yeah, I’m a Soul Man. He has recorded and performed with Springsteen, He has performed at the White House, and He is a National Treasure.  It was like a Catholic getting to have an hour long conversation with the Pope.

I have a tattoo of the Rat Pack on the back of my arm. Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. One night at a Casey IL bar, the local meth head wanted to see my tattoo sleeves. I was happy to show her. When we got to Sammy Davis she asked, and I quote “Why would you put a nigger on your arm?” I rolled down my shirt sleeve and said “Do they still make people like you?”

They do. They were closer than I thought. She looked down on one of the greatest entertainers of our time. What had she done to feel superior? Sammy was missing an eye, she was missing her teeth.

My buddy George always warned any black singer I was recording with about going into Greenup. I told him that was his generation. If I was to walk into the local bars with a black friend I would have laid money that she would be greeted with nothing but kindness. Bullshit. George was right. She would be considered a spook, jungle bunny, nigger, because the pigment in her skin is darker than the yellow hue of the alcoholic at the end of the bar with pickled liver disease. Greenup, IL has a population of about thirty-five-hundred people in it. I used to believe that most people were naturally good people. Hell I used to believe that most of America was good.

I was dumbfounded by a friend who turns out doesn’t like my Girlfriend because she is 1/2 Chinese, a woman, gorgeous & smart. A woman who is unafraid of a misogynistic gun nut who wonders why he can’t get a date? Maybe it’s because you have narrowed it down to only white folks.Then mark out anyone outside of the Cumberland Co. area. Then funnel the ones out who have progressive ideas, then funnel the ones out who will put up with me Tarzan you Jane attitude. Prick.

A close friend, loving, sweet, bad-ass, highly educated, model, and I won’t bring her to my local bar for fear of someone embarrassing me in front of my friend. Sucks being a racist. I think she’s single.

I saw a large group of people who sleep like babies, go to church, and somehow can overlook admitted sexual assault, hate, bigotry, removing women’s rights, fear of Blacks and Latinos. Scared of the Muslim religion. Somehow thinking that the migrant workers picking the veggies that they buy at Walmart for pennies are ruining America as they drive through a boarded up downtown business district because they didn’t support the local businesses.

Ever wonder why you get these products so cheap? The people you look down on make them, pick them, and load them on the trucks. If you are dying for the chance to take those jobs for America, I bet they would put you on. You could get a job picking strawberries anytime.

If these minorities have it so great, I ask you; would you trade places with them? No. Their work is too hard and a dollar an hour plus twenty-five cents a basket doesn’t lend itself to weekend trips to Branson.

I have watched interviews about the Presidential Election from both sides. I get it. You care about the economy, about your health care, about your jobs.Understandable, but you also sold out a lot of people in the process.

You bought an absurd idea that a giant wall is going to built around the southern border of the US. Fear, mistrust, self imposed ignorance and lies. My question is; how can you as members of the human race overlook, admitted sexual assault against women, race baiting, anti-intellectualism, fear mongering and hatred? Our President ran on that platform.

Does anyone remember the outrage of a Muslim man making his wife wear a burka? Trump will put a Supreme Court Judge in place and he will figuratively and literally have his hand on your pussy, and there is nothing you can do about it.

If the voting record shows us anything, 50% didn’t care enough to vote; about 25% voted pro sexual predator. Fuck you. You are disgusting. I won’t forgive Brock Turner and I won’t forgive sexual assault from anyone. I have no idea how it has been justified. But it was.

Brock Turner. Rapist, elite, and ready for Congress. Brock tells it like it is.

Most Presidents have a 100 day plan. Ideas they want done quickly. For the most part we nod our head and say “Yeah! This is the stuff that didn’t get done the last time! (Not always a reflection on the previous President) This will help and makes us a stronger, better country for it.”  Not that we all agree, but we all agree that we want what is best. So we hope the policies are put in place.

These policies are based on hate and xenophobia. I in no way shape or form want a single one of Trump’s policies to pass. We have stepped back. Women will be fighting again for the rights they once had.

Our Vice-President has put laws in place in his state to discriminate against gays based upon which God you pray to. I’m an atheist; I wouldn’t serve any of you mother fuckers.

He is a climate change denier, and believes the Earth is 6000 years old. This makes him a 6^th grade Earth Science Textbook denier as well.

I root for the home team and honestly hope that I will eat crow and swallow my words as Trump finds out a way to give us world peace, stop starvation and cures cancer. I will carve his mug in Mount Rushmore with a spoon all by myself.

1964 Kitty Genovese was stabbed to death in New York City over a period of forty-five minutes.  Thirty-seven people heard her cries for help and some actually saw the stabbing and watched as Genovese crawled around the corner only to have her attacker return to finish the task of stabbing her to death. No one called the police and no one came to her aid. Apathy killed Kitty Genovese. The ability to block out the cries of a dying woman. It’s happening again only this time it’s the world that is being stabbed. We closed our windows and turned up the TV.

1964 Kitty Genovese was stabbed to death in New York City over a period of forty-five minutes.

Sleep well but know when you get up tomorrow you have made someone else’s life harder than it was yesterday. Explain that shit to Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates, explain it to your daughter. I don’t want to hear it. You have the mark of Cain in your underwear. All the Tide© in the world won’t remove this shit.

Apathy, hypocrisy, and heartlessness will destroy America, not an illegal immigrant.

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Hey do me a solid and subscribe and like my blog. Even better, let’s talk about it.  I don’t mind debate, and I’ve been known to change my mind from time to time if the correct argument is made. Thanks for reading! It’s Hip To SHARE!

Daily Life in Third World America

TRUMP: “We have become a third world country, folks.” Sept. 26th, 2016 Presidential debate.

The struggle is real folks. I didn’t realize how we had fallen so far. It’s time to let the secret out to the rest of the world. We have went from Superpower to Third-World under Obama.

9:15 am-ish. I wake up to a cold apartment. I have an old thermostat so it’s hard to regulate the heat.
I need coffee. I see I am out of coffee. So I make due and WALK 50 yards just to have to wait in line to buy my coffee at a gas station. A GAS STATION!

Not only was the coffee in the back, very far away from the checkout counter, but when I pull out the lids, two come out. I ONLY WANTED ONE!. I couldn’t find the creamer or sugar. Good thing I take my coffee black.

9:30 am: I sit down in front of my computer. Yes I work and use the same computer to do other tasks and for entertainment. I need a new one but I don’t have the money right now. This computer is three years old. I have to live with this shame. But in a Third World I’m lucky to even have this.

10:30 am: I read the news on my ancient outdated computer. It’s how I have to do it since I don’t own a TV or buy newspapers. God? Why do you let these things happen to good people? I should ask my old school mate (even though she is young) Aimee. She’s smart. She lives in England for most of the year. But talking to her over video chat in real time across the globe, just isn’t the same.

11:00 am: I need medication. My 2010 Ford Fusion started (thankfully) and I began my five mile trek to the pharmacy/grocery store called Safeway. The pharmacy is also in the back. They make me wait behind a line before they dispense my meds. My Third World insurance covered it. No charge. Finally things are looking up. My only complaint was having to walk by all the food in the isles. I hugged a worker there and expressed my sorrow at him working for only a living wage. I’m liberal. It’s what I do.

12:00 pm:I get home and I can’t find my phone. I WALK across the whole wide room and have to have my computer dial my phone so I can find it. The screen is cracked. It makes it tough to see texts, the weather, what time the pharmacy opens, photos, videos, the guitar tuner, YouTube, email, Instagram, Twitter, the Stock Market and my entire music library. Luckily It will give me audible directions. Lord I wish I had a map!

12:20 pm: I have to drive into the city. I talk to my  phone and pull up Spotify. Yes I can listen to all my favorite songs but since I don’t pay $9.99 a month I have to listen on shuffle mode. It’s 2016. I’m an American, and sure, I can listen to any album I want, anytime I want to, but not in the original order? I guess luxury comes with a price. Only the top 1% ever get to skip the ads. Facktcheck.org

1:30 pm: I finally get into the city. The fear of the tunnel collapsing and the state of the left lane for two miles was atrocious. Probably because men are busting up that lane with jack hammers and back loaders. Merging into one lane isn’t the America Grandpa grew up in. All he had to worry about was Polio.

2:00 pm: The comic book shop was closed today. CLOSED! They must be rationing comic books. I will try again tomorrow. 

I notice all the homeless people wandering the tourist district with nothing but digital cameras bowling shirts and sun dresses. They are forced to carry their bags with “I  Love Monterey” T shirts and refrigerator magnets. They look longingly at the Pacific. They are wishing for a better life, like in South America, or Africa. Who can blame them?

I decide to eat at a Vietnamese restaurant. I have to ask for water, and they make me eat with sticks. You read it right. STICKS! And the portions were too big. So I eat half of it, and stiff the waiter for making me eat with a stick.

4:00 pm: My afternoon nap is taken on the futon in my studio. Not even a couch. A room with  no air conditioning. I like my studio to be a constant 45 degrees. But it’s impossible with the window open and the saltwater air blowing the 70 degree heat through here. I can’t sweat, and my feet are dirty from wearing only sandals every day. Not even real shoes. Dirty toes are common here. They are known as ‘Valley Feet.’

5:30 pm: Back to grinding out logos and webpages. Illustrating and animating. I’ll never get used to it. My elbows are calloused from leaning on the desk, My coffee is now luke warm.

The immigrants and illegals have taken all the jobs here. I walked miles and miles of fields and can’t find a single strawberry or stalk of broccoli to pick. They have looted the fields here and taken all the strawberry picking jobs that Americans want. Want in one hand and put strawberries in the other, see who’s hand is holding the strawberries. Mexican hands.

Migrant farm workers in strawberry fields. (Mark Miller/Getty Images)

I can hear them laughing in the trailer park. The comradery among THOSE people is overwhelming. You’ll never find a white man like me being invited to live with a dozen Mexicans in that trailer. Racism. The Hispanics are living it up and I have to deal with a cracked phone.

6:30 pm: I trek across the parking lot to order from Kathy’s Little Kitchen. Mexican food. Sure they take my order in English but they speak in Spanish to each other. Possibly about murdering and raping me. I get my burrito and hurry out the door. I run back to the apartment looking over my shoulder. I consider calling Homeland Security and turning Kathy’s in. Kathy isn’t even a Hispanic name. What are they hiding?

7:00 pm: The only way I have contact with my family is over Facebook, or a text. Possibly call or Skype. Being so far away in a Third-World country means being cut off. My only options to see my mother are either driving the interstate or getting on an airplane. It’s a 4 hour flight to see my dear Mother. Home just a dream.

8:00 pm: Netflix is not showing the movie that I have been skipping for two months. I guess I’ll have to read the book. Maybe I’ll just watch ‘Family Guy’ even though it’s all reruns. But I really wanted to watch the live action ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’. I can’t win *Sigh*

9:00 pm. I’m a so hungry… I go around the whole wide corner to buy the fresh fruit. My debit card now has a chip in it and I have to put the card in to pay for my bananas. What ever happened to swiping? Just one more inconvenience other countries don’t have to live with. In California many people even carry their own bags. Why should the local wildlife get the perks? Why am I carrying my bananas in my hand just because a seal is swimming around with a Safeway bag in his colon? I should have more rights than a seal. If only a bananas were wrapped in some sort of package. Dirty banana peels caused the Red Death that wiped out 1/3 of Europe a few years ago. Factcheck.org

9:15 pm. I take my shower. The conditioner is almost out and I have to put a little water in the bottle to get the last bit. I could use a new razor, but they are in my medicine cabinet so I reuse my old one. After only 45 minutes the hot water is running out. No hot water.

10:00 pm: I start my work for the day. I’m uninspired from being beat down by a system set up to keep me down.

10:05 pm: I’m watching ‘Family Guy” on Netflix. Tweet my thoughts, and hop on Facebook to tell other people why they are obviously wrong.

Walk a mile in my shoes! Even though I haven’t walked a mile in them. But I have probably a dozen pair of shoes. So you taking my shoes doesn’t bother me that bad. Probably a Mexican took them.

I call 911 and five minutes later the cops finally show up. I explain the stolen shoes and wanted to make sure I had an airtight alibi in case my shoes were used in a rape or a murder. I was assured I was white and this would not be the case.

I then quickly whipped out a pistol that I owned and was rather proud of, to show the officer. He admired the gun, told me that it was a good thing I had the loaded pistol on me. After all when a Mexican is raping you, what are you going to do? Call the police? We both laughed.

11:00 pm: I’m STARVING!! I am forced to forage for food at the convenience store. If I don’t eat I will surely die from malnutrition and starvation. Funyuns.

12:00 am: I grab a blanket and curl up in the corner. I have my gun in one hand and used copy of “Tuesdays with Morrie” in the other. I check the gun one more time to make sure there is a round in the chamber and I pee a little bit thinking about shooting a Mexican rapist through my door.

12:01 am “Tuesdays with Morrie” sucks. I think I’ll watch ‘Family Guy’

4:00 am: I go to bed. I am saddened at the fact that I can’t look up and see the stars. The roof blocks the view. I cry myself to sleep hoping I can hang on. The salt in my tears rust my gun under my pillow.

I don’t see any end to this cycle of having to wait for 30 seconds when I want it NOW!

I am an American and I deserve more than this! Why do I have to spend more than $25 dollars to get free shipping from Amazon? Why does the government  have to be all up in my face fixing roads, making sure my meat is suitable to eat and the water drinkable. I’m a slave to the electric company!I am an indentured servant. If I want anything I can think of , it all comes with a price.

That’s a lot of strawberries

–A

My great friend and amazing musician JB Faires has recently started his blog. I’ve spent many a smokey evening discussing music and the ways of the world. He is truly inspirational

Help me out and give me a like and a share. I will personally write you an email thanking you. I have nothing else to offer.

Inspiring speech. Not dated in the least. I salute you Joe Friday!

Famous, Irrelevant, Oldies Band cry “Rock is Dead!”

Blues folklore tells the tale of Robert Johnson, a man who in 1928 sells his soul in return for riches and fame as a guitar player.

There are various reasons why this is a bad idea, namely going to Hell, but when you make a deal with the Devil; usually the odds are in favor of the house.

Johnson ultimately had his fame while living. He had a hit song with ‘Terraplane Blues’, He was good looking’ and the ladies loved him. The hellhounds on his trail finally caught up with him one night in a Mississippi. He was hitting on the right woman, at the right time, in the wrong place. Her husband, the bartender, poisoned Robert. He died in a back room, writhing in pain and foaming at the mouth. They buried his body in a plotters field behind a church. The suite has been lost.

He died a legend.

He was great not just because of his music, but the idea of the music that he had yet to write. Hendrix, Janis, Cobain, Morrison, John Lennon, Led Zeppelin, Christopher Cross and a few more. The music they left wasn’t good enough, Nooooooo… We want more! They also didn’t live through the Disco Era. Jim Morrison wasn’t too good to sing a pop song. Don’t fool yourselves.

It’s because they died at the height of their influence. They didn’t stick around to become irrelevant. It’s the price musicians pay for selling their soul to the Devil.

Gene Simmons was the first I heard say ‘Rock is dead.’ He peaked in 1977. KISS didn’t do anything but put on the show and stick the chorus of the song right in your face! Something Steely Dan wasn’t doing at the time. They changed what a concert was! Leaders of the pack in that niche

 

“Flea ruined an entire generation of bass players” ~I. Edwards

Flea is saying the same thing.

He peaked in the 90’s. The Red Hot Chili Peppers came out funk punk rappin’, making the 80’s hair bands look silly and the more people who saw them realized they were awesome and they sold a heap of records. He changed the game on 80’s Headbangers.

Metallica created their masterpiece in 86’(Okay… 91 *eye roll*). The band the made ‘Master of Puppets’ isn’t the band selling out stadiums today. They lived to play fast and loud. They sure as hell weren’t making a film that shows their sensitive side. Jesus people! You are rock stars. Start acting like one. Who wants to see Metallica work out THEIR ANGER ISSUES???? A bit hypocritical Thrash Metal Kings??$$??

The record industry and these bands became very, very, rich. The game was set up that way. The game changed, not rock music.
This is how the record industry works.

A band gets pretty good. They have a song that a lot of people will like. So they save up their money and borrow from friends and relatives and record a ‘demo’ tape so they can make it big and make a million dollars!

Record Industry Big Shot

Record Industry ‘Big Shot’ (the Devil) hears the demo and thinks he can sell their product. The Band is now The Product. The product he is selling is your soul.
The Devil offers a fortune to the Product. The Product have been living on Taco Bell for years now and they agree! He hands them bags of gold to make their product. Just sign on the dotted line. In blood. This is their big chance to make a million dollars!

With the Devil’s help, a lot of lawyers, and a producer to make the product easier to sell by changing the Product so that it fits nicely in a box. New and Improved Product. Everyone loves the Product and they send the Product on tour for a year.

The wager pays off and the band sells their soul to the tune of a million –dollars. Just like the Devil promised. But give the Devil his due.

The Devil takes the lion’s share of the riches after all he IS a Big Shot. Then Scratch opens up the gates of hell as it pukes and belches out accountants and lawyers, and bills for hotel rooms for the guy who brings you a towel after the show.

They grab at the pile of gold, taking from the riches what you have spent on limos, prostitutes, and your drugs PLUS the original bag of gold they gave you… with interest. They haul out the cost of the tour and all the hotel rooms the towel man stayed in over the past 365 days.

After all of the fire and brimstone die down, the Devil lays 3% at the Product’s feet. $30,000 to be split among the five members of the Product

Soul=$6000 

 

The Devil then demands you produce another product immediately.

You spent your entire life making the first Product, now you have a few weeks to come up with new Product. After all you can’t live on the money you made on the Old Product. But you will make more on this Product since Beelzebub was so happy with the last one. He promises.

People don’t like the Brand New Product as much as the Old Product and the Devil spent all the promotion money on a really BIG Product like Bruce Springsteen, who he knows will make millions on the first day. The Devil says “Sorry but you can’t play these songs. We own the Product. Plus, you owe us for the last Product you gave me and didn’t sell.”

“Do not play until you pay me back or I will come get you with a demon spawn of lawyers. Do not pass go, and do not call us, we’ll call you.”

The Product turns into a band again and as they walk out the Exit, they see a line at the Entrance.

Welcome to the Digital Age.

Now a kid with a guitar can record his product in his home with higher quality recording equipment than anything the Beatles ever had.

Success at last!

He can upload his song to CD Baby who license it to all the digital and streaming music companies; ITunes, Amazon, etc… reaching listeners, buyers, and fans. A kid in Zimbabwe can buy your song.

You can have it printed into CD’s and make seven or eight dollars off of each CD. You don’t have to sell a million copies to make a living. Selling 30,000 albums would be a windfall. You have total control of your product.

Soul is non-negotiable.

Stagger Lee got so mad
He threw the Devil clean off his throne.
On your knees old Satan
I’m gonna rule Hell on my own.
–Stagger Lee (somewhat creative commons)
Rock is alive and well. As long as there are kids with angst, drums and guitars, there is going to be rock music. I’ve been listening to Blackberry Smoke lately. They are awe-inspiring. There is nothing country about them. They were always good to me…way too good.

Take a second and switch channels on the satellite radio. You might find that rock has changed its name to Alt. Country. That’s where I hear loud rowdy guitars and riffs. You might find it on another station? It’s there. It’s online, and no one is bitching about not playing at the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame.

Thoughts on the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame.

I went on a date there once. It was great seeing the Pink Floyd inflatable Teacher, stage gear, guitars from every hero I ever had.

KISS refused to play together during their admission to the RRHOF. Deep Purple wouldn’t let the guy play who wrote the song that put them in the Hall of Fame. John Fogerty wouldn’t play with CCR. Don’t fool yourself boys I didn’t come here to listen to your new album. I came here to hear you play ‘Rock n Roll All Night”. You know it and I know it. As much as you charge for a concert ticket, you better fuckin’ play it.

You know who I don’t see bitching? Rock music pioneers.

The O’Jays, My friends; Dale Hawkins (RIP), The Shirelles, Danny and the Jr’s, the Tokens, Gene Chandler… Elvis’ first band, Scotty Moore and Bill Black (RIP), Howling Wolf, War, Aretha Franklin, the Staple Singers and all those artists who broke the fuckin’ ground you walk on in your platform soles. The ones who made no money, the ones who are still busting ass on the road. The RRHOF is there to honor THEM! Show some God damn respect. Suck it up and play the three minute song that got you here. You stole from the very people in that room. Quit being an ungrateful bunch of bastards

There is a genuine beef about how artists are chosen but don’t dare disrespect those who paved your way. Christopher died on the Cross for you (see what I did there?)

You are lucky to even stand on the stage that Little Richard built ya.

–A.

* Christopher Cross is alive and well and probably playing corporate gigs and state fairs and stuff like that. He also rips one hell of a solo at about 3:30. 

 

No Green Weenies

In 1982 Cumberland Unit #77’s High School student body collectively rioted and demanded action. Cumberland Unit #77, surrendered in two days.

Due to the efforts of the sadistic Lunch Ladies, a series of events caused the students to take drastic action. Utilizing every bit of know-how at their disposal, (A civics textbook) they fought the school’s establishment, armed with nothing but a Plat Map, the Student Handbook, and a poster board sign reading “NO GREEN WEENIES!”

Cumberland Students march against the frequency and color of their weenies

These are the facts

1. Students could not leave the school grounds for lunch.
2. For one week the students were fed corn dogs each day.
3. The next week they were given hot dogs that had a green tint to it.
4. The students revolted…

I don’t know the complete story with names and dates, but I know how it went.

Sun Tzu says in the Art of War “Energy may be likened to the bending of a crossbow; decision, to the releasing of a trigger.” 

It probably started out as a joke, then an idea, then a strategy. Hushed meetings in the library between Mrs. Ettlebrick’s piercing ‘SHhhh!” Someone says something to another student between classes. Notes are passed, rumors of a coup d’état have started.

The scheme was planned like the JFK Assassination. No one knows who put in the order, deniable plausibility. The entire student body knows their part. Everyone had to be in for the plot to work. Nerds, jocks, stoners and Prom Queens joined together in unity. There could be no dissention if the scheme were to be effective…

Sun Tzu says in the Art of War “If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.

Each morning after attendance was taken in homeroom, the teacher would ask how many were eating school lunch. They would then send this number to the office and the kitchen workers would prepare food for at least that many students. The campus was closed so the students ate what they were given, brought their own lunch, or went hungry.

Sun Tzu says in the Art of War “Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.” 
The morning of the conspiracy, each student in every class raised their hand. They were ALL eating in the cafeteria that day. The die had been cast. There was no turning back.

Hands raised in the classroom. The Conspiracy has started

When the lunch bell rang, the Lunch Ladies, (as they became known) with their ladles, hair nets, and their cowboy cake, stood ready to shovel the daily swill onto virtually indentured students who had no choice but to take their mocking smiles as they shoveled mystery meat at them.

The Lunch Ladies waited, and waited, and waited… Not a single student ate their swill that day. They cursed the students, they screamed “FOUL!”, with cigarettes dangling from the corners of their mouths. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE??? What will we do with all this swill?”

What will we do with all this swill?

The students had drawn first blood. The teaching staff and Principal were in a panic. “These punks won’t strong arm us! WE are in control!

Sun Tzu says in the Art of War “he who knows when he can fight and when he cannot, will be victorious.” 

“You will not raise your hand during attendance if you are not eating” growled the Principal, teeth clinched veins bulging as his fist crushed the school intercom mic. “There will be hell to pay!” as he throws the mic against the wall.

The students stood steadfast as 350 green hot dogs went cold. There would be no ‘Cowboy Cake” that day.

Students were called in and interrogated. Parents were called. Detention was cancelled due to overcrowding. Reports of beatings, sleep deprivation, and threats about a “Permanent Record” were being thrown around. The due dates on essays of “Moby Dick” were moved up a week.

The students were prepared with water, nourishment and a stack of Cliff Notes for Moby Dick. They laid low and kept the momentum of their first victory to themselves. The war was far from over

Sun Tzu says in the Art of War “You can ensure the safety of your defense if you only hold positions that cannot be attacked.”  

Part two of the battle plan involved the Plat Map and the civics book…probably.

While the students couldn’t picket on school property, they discovered that there was nothing the School could do if you stood along the highway on the opposite side of the road. It is owned by the state.

Sun Tzu says in the Art of War “the opportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by the enemy himself.” 

“Who gives a damn about those ungrateful bastards? Who cares about a group of  kids holding a  poster board sign that said ‘NO GREEN WEENIES’?

WTHI TV Channel 10 out of Terre Haute Indiana. Serving the Wabash Valley with news and information; that’s who cared. 

A masked spokesman for the group explained to the entire Wabash Valley about the school’s weenie policy. Terre Haute was outraged! Letters were written and phone calls were made. Politicians gave speeches. It was a turkey shoot. No one was left unscathed. War is hell. A lone child stepped forward and sang “99 Luft Ballons” tears fell and hugs were exchanged. The weenie word was out. The students could stand down.

Sun Tzu says in the Art of War “One need not destroy one’s enemy. One need only destroy his willingness to engage.”

Victory!

Battled scarred and weary, Cumberland Unit #77 gave in to the student’s demands and nary a green weenie is seen in Cumberland County Illinois ever since. The Principal hung his head in disgrace. He later left teaching altogether to join the carnival. He runs that machine where you spray the water in the clown’s mouth.

The lunch Ladies simply disappeared. It’s rumored they are buried under the 50 Yard Line at the field where the Fighting Pirates played football.

And there isn’t even a fuckin’ plaque.

*The events are true even if I have taken liberty by filling in the blanks. 

On a side note, I graduated from Cumberland and the Kitchen Staff, Administration, and Teachers were always wonderful. Forgive me if I have put you in a bad light.

---

Dedicated to

Ciara Jade Faires

  In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond

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