What Would Ozzy Do?

Well the crisp cool weather of Fall is finally here folks, it's been a long, hot, and truly excellent summer. I must admit this summer season in the great state of New York has been a good one. I usually welcome September by this point, having had enough of the hot weather. I didn't get out much this year, though, so I wouldn't mind another month or two.

Around this time of year it seems like there are a lot of great rock concerts happening in the area and this year is by far no exception. Being only an hour away form the heart of NYC means I have access to practically every one. Every tour stops in New York City, if somethings gonna happen, it's gonna happen here.

The fall concert season also coincides with my birthday which is a great rationalization for buying expensive tickets - it's a present! Sure.

But this season's birthday show is Roger Water's "Wall" concert. This is, for the uninformed, a recreation of the original Wall Concert. Never heard of the original "Wall" concert? Don't feel bad, there were only four places at the time that were large enough for Rock's greatest spectacle ever. One in Earl's Court England, one at the Veteran's Memorial Coliseum in Nassau County, Long Island, one in Dortmund, Germany, and one more in Los Angeles. There was a total of only twelve shows performed in the United States.

The Wall concerts were a major revolution, a cosmic giant step in taking theatrics, every form of media in existence (accept maybe a newspaper...), every new technology they could get their hands on and gel incredibly well together. This incredible show that was backing up what is quite possibly the greatest concept album ever made.

I had seen close to a hundred concerts by the time I was a senior in High School. The Wall concert was, and no exaggeration here, at least a hundred times more incredible than any other type of "show" I have ever experienced. And that statement is still very true.

Let's digress a little here boys an girls. Talk about some other great shows, eh?
I'd been to some pretty fine shows, this was the seventies and there was still a shitload of great bands out there.

Aerosmith - I saw Aerosmith on their first major coliseum tour when they were promoting their first self-titled album, "Aerosmith". They were all in their early twenties and the stage presence and the power they exuded was stellar. Their remake of the Yardbirds hit "Train Kept A Rollin'" was a hit in itself again in Aerosmith's capable talented hands.

The guitar work on that very song is the reason I started playing the instrument myself. When Joe Perry strapped on a white Fender Stratocaster to play that one song I was annoyingly jazzed as I played the same guitar. To a thirteen year old that's some heavy shit. Must be, I still remember it like it was twenty years ago (it's been a lot longer).

I'll never forget the jealousy I felt when my good buddy Scott snagged some Who tickets with the help from zany Wayne (a whole 'nuther column). Seeing the huge shit-eating grin on his face as we pulled up next to each other at a stop light. Me in my bright orange '74 Honda Civic and Wayne and Scott in Wayne's blue Datsun B210 (remember them?).

This was huge because this was their "Final Tour". Or as we all know, the first of dozens of "Final Tours". But no one knew that. Not us, and not the band. I finally snagged a ticket for myself and was witness to the Who playing like they'd never play again, literally.

Sometimes it's just the experience and not necessarily the actual music that makes a great show. When you get both, like we did at a "J. Geils Band" show at the New Haven Coliseum it's like an unexpected Christmas present. We had seats that were just off of the floor level. We were sitting in the seats right above the floor seats.

There was a barrier/wall set up to keep people from just walking out onto the floor. There were people climbing over the wall to get to the floor seats all night. This was not allowed by the security guards whatsoever. It was fun seeing these totally wasted hippies (like us) try to make stoned excuses to these huge guards.

The best part of this set-up though was the fact that the security guards didn't care one little bit if the people jumped the barrier to get out of the floor seat sections. Now the barrier was about four feet high, maybe a little more. We watched several people intelligently negotiate the barrier. We also, to our delight, saw a whole shitload of fucked up guys try to be macho and jump over the barrier.

This usually resulted in them only getting one leg over, thus crushing their nuts on the top of the barrier. There was the pause, the "sick-to-my-stomach" groan, then the inevitable fall to the grimy floor of the Veteran's Memorial Coliseum. As I've said before folks, funny is funny! I'm sorry if they got hurt (no I am not) but, shit, it was fucking hysterical!

I don't know how many of you have had the pleasure of seeing the J. Geils Band in their prime, but they consistently put on four hour shows. This gave the audience plenty of time to get good and wasted. Plenty of time to get brave enough to jump the barrier! We watched a steady procession of guys encounter the barrier for at least three hours.

After a while we started yelling "JUMP YOU PUSSY!" for the guys that hesitated to take the challenge and leap. Call a drunk rock-an-roller a pussy at a good concert in front of thousands of freaks and hot young girls and they will jump the barrier!

There were literally hundreds of crushed nuts that night, and all of us, at one time or another, had to turn away from the action because our faces hurt so fiercely from laughing. Laughing so hard, for so long. What a show!

Van Halen went on tour opening up for Black Sabbath when they first broke big. It has been rumored, mostly by rabid Van Halen fans, that Eddie, Dave and the boys blew Black Sabbath away on that tour. This, as I witnessed, was not true. This was when Sabbath had their original lead singer, Ozzie Osbourne. There was not a more intense band in the world than Black Sabbath at their Blackest. No more tinny P.A. systems and cheap English amps that would constantly set themselves on fire - not this tour.

There was a massive P.A. system, this was when hearing damage from rock concerts was very real and nobody displayed that fact better than Black Sabbath. With their new Marshall amplifiers (from England - they got it right) the floor of the coliseum was vibrating! I somehow managed to rush the stage, seeing Black Sabbath up close, in their prime, with Ozzy was an incredible experience that I will never forget. The music and intensity caused the fans to explode with energy as was evident by the trashed Men's room I stopped to use.

Massive carnage - every stall, every toilet, every sink and mirror, all the doors were pulled from the wall and smashed all over the the floor. When I entered I was standing there by myself, stunned at the dichotomy between the total silent destruction inside and the amazing Rock history that was happening out in the main room.

One night we went to see Frank Zappa in Hartford. I was at the ripe old age of fifteen. I had never seen the kid of fabulous freak show that a Frank Zappa concert attracted. We had great seats, this was when it was still possible to get great seats if you got in line early, the good old days of live Rock.

We were so close, Zappa's personal security guy, a huge white bald man - I mean fucking HUGE, spotted the microphone the guy next to me had hidden in his coat. This behemoth walked off the front of the stage and was walking straight towards me! I almost shit my drawers, people. I was relieved to see he wasn't after me, but I didn't escape unscathed. He crushed my right foot as he was ripping the microphone guy's coat from his back.

I thought that was fucking wild! I lived a pretty boring middle class whitey life - I never got to see shit like this. Or shit like the riot that started right in front of the stage, right where we were standing. My good friend saw the danger and grabbed me, running back into the room about one section. We only went back one section because he was wise enough to want to stay and see the blood and carnage.

We were not let down as the cops led several bloody "scary/uglies" away in handcuffs. It was reported in the following day's "Hartford Courant" that these gentlemen were from the Warlocks and Hell's Angels. They weren't real keen on sharing the same section and they made that fact real fucking obvious! I was fifteen, driving with no driver's license, stoned on black hash, and had just seen handcuffed bikers beaten bloody by a Policeman's nightstick. Another classic night!

I could go on forever, those were fun days. You could get away with all kinds of behaviour that is just not tolerated now. I pity the fool that yapped incessantly at a concert. Back then you just got punched in the face if you annoyed the wrong person!

However, you also didn't have to put up with all the bullshit that is now allowed.

There was this annoying woman (selfish bitch) holding her fucking cell phone camera up in front of my view of the stage at the recent Rock and Roll Hall of Fame concerts held at Madison Square Garden. These seats cost, well let's just say it was a massive shitload of dough for these seats. And she could not have cared less, why should she? Nothing would have been done even if I did complain.

I wonder what the late Mr. Frank Zappa's security guard would have done to her back in the early seventies? Well it better not happen at Roger Water's "Wall Concert".

We're gonna party like it's 1979 all over again, just like we did at the original concert.


And there weren't no fuckin' cell phone cameras in 1979...



Selah.

Death by Partisan Politics

What is the real war count these days? What qualifies as a "war" to politicians? We all know that Iraq and Afghanistan are bonafide wars. People are dying and billions and billions of U.S. taxpayers dollars are going towards financing these huge violent military conflicts. As in most wars the U.S. has to sway opinions, opinions that could save lives, by payoffs made to "people in high places". The characters in these "high places" are real pieces of work, kids.

A major shitload of cash has gone to openly paying off some of these dangerous "Warlords" or "Tribal Chiefs" or whatever you want to call these lawless, immoral, murdering scum. These warlords are then suddenly considered to be our new "allies" - what the brass has since realized just isn't true. You cannot buy loyalty from these people, or any other people for that matter.

I guess these huge payoffs are now an acceptable form of warfare. This practice is "acceptable" to the people at the helm of this shitstorm I should point out, because it sure as hell isn't acceptable to me personally. Of course nobody asked me, and my view that a bullet is cheaper probably wouldn't garner a lot of support amongst politicians, people whose main focus in life is to get themselves re-elected.

Maybe my opinion that paying these people is akin to bribery will be more acceptable. Acceptable to us regular "U.S. Citizens" as we all know bribery is a politician's Christmas.

These same politicians finally passed the 1st Responders Health care Bill in the House of Representatives yesterday. This is, of course, funding for the people that had their health ruined by the toxicity of the environment that once was the World Trade Center. George W. Bush's self appointed head of the E.P.A., Christie Todd Whitman gave the "All Clear" announcement that the air around ground zero was not dangerous for the workers. Many of these workers were volunteers. Many of them are now dead and/or dying slow horrible deaths. They need and they certainly deserve proper health care from their, from our (us Americans) government.

The news media proclaimed the passage of this bill to be "Historic". How is finally doing the right thing, the humane thing, nine fucking years too late I might add, "Historic"? The politicians involved in trying to quash this bill are overwhelmingly Republican. I try to understand the game of politics and the concept and reasoning behind towing the party line. However, how can any American deny health care to the selfless heroes that were trying to perform miracles in what was the most horrible crime scene on earth at the time?

And I sure as fuck (do I sound pissed?) don't have to remind anyone of how the country felt about what took place on 9/11.

Well I can't hold it in any longer! I'm sick to fucking death of people like this walking sack of shit politician from fucking Texas that thinks paying for health care to the "9/11 First Responders Health Bill" is just another example of Congress' appetite for taxpayer dollars.

I'm writing about Rep. Lamar Smith, Republican from Texas. An esteemed fuckwad that has voted for nothing but issues that affect his fellow Republicans pockets. He hardly ever votes at all and when he does it's usually against some bill written to help Americans like the first Responders or our U.S. Military enlisted personnel. He had the fucking unmitigated audacity to get up in front of Congress and the world yesterday and decry the 1st Responder Health care Act as a waste of money.

How can this piece of shit that has voted for pumping billions of dollars into the "War on Drugs" condemn this comparably minuscule amount of funding? If he thinks we don't notice that he is from a state that is considered the most dangerous "Drug War Borders" he is sadly mistaken. His state gets a shitload of funding for this clusterfuck they're running (and losing horribly) down there in Good 'Ole Boy land. The home of George W. Bush.

So is the "War on Drugs" any different than any other war? I guess Rep. Lamar Smith (R) Texas likes his Wars in his own back yard where he can profit from them. Why the hell else do politicians make these bogus statements about their views on funding certain initiatives? Loyalty (keeping your mouth shut) and the party line, which, when it comes right down to it, is all about money. I'm including the lust for power in this stinking heap of political motivations also, some people have so much dough, billions in some cases, must still be in the game for power.
I mean, can you really enjoy hundreds of millions of dollars if you work ninety hours a week? Not by my definition of "enjoy" anyways!

It is really making it tough for the entire country when these fucking politicians, all of them, do nothing but play the party game, tow the party line. This is for their own selfish reasons and doesn't do one iota of good for our country. This great superpower cannot agree on any new important issues because there will always be the politicians that vote the "line" no matter what the issue on hand is.

Where is this going to get us folks?

When pols like Rep. Lamar Smith (R) Texas vote down a bill because he said it would invite abuse and corruption I think he just means there's going to be some money floating around that he can't divert to Texas for his buddies. I'm not saying it's all the fault of the Republicans, it's not. They just happen to try their damnedest to kill a bill that should have been passed easily, a no-brainer. This issue should have never been partisan.

Just compare the funding amount to other "bridges to nowhere" and you'll see that in the long run killing this bill is not about the health care that is needed. It's about pols like this shithead Lamar Smith that are stagnating our country because their side didn't win the election and some colored guy did.

When we finally do learn how these two parties can both work together for the good of the country and its citizens the U.S. will be unstoppable. We'll be able to return the word "pride" back to our description of our government.

Didn't a very wise (stoned and beaten) man once say "Can't we all just get along?".

Or was it "Can't we all just do a bong"? I forget.







Selah.





Author's notes:A 2008 study by Harvard economist Jeffrey A. Miron has estimated that legalizing drugs would inject $76.8 billion a year into the U.S. economy — $44.1 billion from law enforcement savings, and at least $32.7 billion in tax revenue ($6.7 billion from marijuana alone.

To my Readers: Thank you so much for the suggestions on a new name for the column. You are truly sick twisted motherfuckers and I love every one of you. Now send some that maybe I can use! They were fucking hysterical!

To my commentors: I appreciate all comments, as long as they make some kind of sense. Funny or profane is fine and will be posted, just not boring unintelligible gibberish. I will not bore my readers with bad nonsensicle confused (badly spelled) writing (I know who you are...)! Just kidding, I don't mind bad spelling!

Hair Today Gone Tommorrow?

I've been thinking about cutting my hair lately. I've had long hair, in a pony-tail, for about four years now. I had always wanted to grow my hair long. I thought I'd look good, not to brag but I've got a pretty decent head of hair, thank God. I was a guitar player and always thought that's how we should look. But I wasn't a professional guitar player, I didn't earn a living at it so I wasn't officially a "Guitar Player". I still had to see clients, so that kept me in the closet - so to speak. I'd get close, don't get me wrong, but there is a point that lasts for a long time where you really have to commit.

Why, you ask? Good question.

After a while there is a point where your hair just isn't long enough to put in a pony-tail. You look like you need a haircut because you do, you look ridiculous. But if you get it cut, it just takes that much longer to reach your goal to join the brotherhood of dudes with pony-tails. So you either give in and get it cut or deal with whatever freak show you see in the mirror every morning. For months in some cases!

I always enjoyed when people made the "Captain Fucking Obvious" remark and ask "You growin' your hair out?" "No, I enjoy looking like Ellen DeGeneres, dipshit". I must admit the thing I hated most about short hair was that it makes me look like a cop. Or worse, a Narc. Don't get me wrong I don't have anything against cops (most cops) I just don't want to look like one. I found this out during my stint as a Grateful Dead fan. I never refer to myself as a Deadhead, I wasn't one. I found the Deadheads to be rudely clique-ish, especially to us "short-hairs".

What do you think is the real reason behind Rock-n-Rollers having long hair? It started with the Beatles as far as mass popularity goes. But what possessed them to grow their hair? Wouldn't it be fucking hysterical if this whole long hair thing was caused by John Lennon blowing off a hair-cut appointment? Johnny had some bad kidney pie last night now the whole western world looks like a giant hair pile.

It would be great to see just what things would look like had the roles been reversed. Imagine getting pulled over for speeding and seeing a gigantic State cop with a head of hair like Farrah Fawcett in your rear view mirror! That cocky way they adjust themselves after getting off of their motorcycles, punctuated by a flick of a beautiful mane of long golden blond hair. It would look divine with those mirror shades!

But I am finding my long hair to be a real pain in the ass lately. It's just too much work, so now after many years, I find myself trying to decide what my head should look like now. There are a lot more more male affectations than you may think. I could go for the crazed scientist/Einstein look. White/gray hair sticking straight up like a chia pet and a big, bushy, black mustache. I'm amazed at how often I see guys that fit that very description. Just watch a documentary on Global Warming or Astronomy.You'll see that or some guy trying to look like Art Garfunkel for some bizarre reason.

One phenomenon that is attacking men over the age of about sixty is a horrible malady called "Old Lady Face". This happens when a mans testosterone levels are kaput. Their faces are naturally sagging with age and their facial hair follicles are almost non-existent. Add a little television make-up to the pot (see Billy Crystal) and viola! Your guy now looks like his Mom. If you've ever wondered why some older actors walk around with a few days growth of ugly facial stubble, well, it's certainly beats looking like Rosie O'Donnell. I'm glad I don't have to worry about that just yet.

In the past four years if my hair was really out of control I'd just reach back and cut off most of my pony-tail with a pair of scissors. Now I just have to get up the nerve and go to someplace that actually knows how to cut hair. I just hope I don't get some wise-ass that's going to make a big production out of it. I don't need to be the center of attention at the town barber-shop, and I really don't want someone I've just told to "shaddup" cutting my hair for the first time in four years.

Maybe I'll go to one of those Korean places, they've always been nice and they laugh at my jokes, usually before I'm even done telling them! At least I think they're laughing at my jokes...

Screw it, where are my scissors?





Selah.

The New Face of Old Hypocrisy

I should have seen it coming. It all makes sense to me now. The mystery is over!

Finding old friends on these new "Social Networking" sites can be a gratifying, fun experience. I've been on FB for almost three months now. In that time I've connected with many old friends that I've found by, of course, reaching out to them by sending a friend request. I've run into many different types of responses, return friend invitations, event notices, birthdays, whores, etc., etc.

I had a very eye-opening experience the other day. Actually it was more like getting bitch-slapped with a rotting flounder. This was a bitch slap in the name of God himself! Oh Lawdy, yes, brothers and sisters! And I will share the tale with you all right now, straight from the safety of my warm, cozy, well-armed writing cavern.

It all started when I found an old friend on FaceBook. This is one of those people I had kept in contact with, barely, for a number of years via email and maybe a phone call. Timeline-wise I remember making one phone call from my office on the 68th floor of the World Trade Center so we've been in contact for a while.

I was thrilled to see him on FB, although slightly puzzled by his profile, and immediately sent out a friend request. As you can guess at this point, if you're into FB, the request was ignored. I sent a follow-up message and got no response. After inquiring with a few mutual friends as to his whereabouts, I was left even more puzzled. He had been in contact with other friends - I finally got the hint!

Now I had to try and figure out why the blow-off. It did sadden me a great deal, we had been great friends, we were inseparable, a team, running partners, we were thick as thieves. But, of course, we were now very different people. Not to mention constantly printing your opinions has a tendency to piss some people off

I make no pretenses about my life. I won't sit here and try to come off as some holier-than-thou fuckstick because I'm trying to pretend my past actions never occurred. Now even though this is one of my pet peeves, if someone wants to pretend these things never happened it's none of my damn business.

However, I do expect the same courtesy from these fucking poseurs. My bitch is when people that have acted like drug crazed vermin in the past keep me in that same category. After decades of separation their past no longer exists, but I'm still the same guy as I was in high school? Fuck that. And fuck them for that matter!

There are several reasons some people, even close dear friends, will turn on you like a pack of wild hyenas.

Here are some of those "reasons":

Fame - the ultimate usurper of normalcy. Example: Being rejected for a "Friend Request" on FaceBook by a musician that I had done literally hundreds of gigs with in the past. It made me feel like a stalker when it was suggested I join the "fan" page.

Money - to some people life is still a contest, he with the most toys wins. There are people I used to do massive amounts of cocaine with, freebasing, in their parent's mansions for days on end in the early '80s. I've seen a few of them this summer, and after giving them a warm hello I barely rated a casual nod. Do they think I still do those kinds of things? Was there a glass pipe hanging out of my pocket? Well one of these people was just arrested for keeping an underage girl on the side, so there's your morality.

Sex - whether it be cosmetic surgery, a trophy wife or husband - the fight against age can be fought with good looks. This is one I am guilty of myself, I must admit, I can be shallow. But it's the fat jokes! I blame the fat jokes as they were my only line of defense when I was a kid and I got damn good at it, I know a million of them.

At the same time I don't think one can buy bragging rights with cosmetic surgery, that's too easy, it's cheating. If you see someone from the distant past that has kept fit for all those years by healthy living, they deserve the credit. And bragging rights. However, the sudden sight of an old friend that has put on two hundred pounds can be damaging. It can result in shock, blindness, coma, frontal lobe seizures, and fits of laughter (with pointing) in inappropriate surroundings.

Social Standing - you would think this would fall under the Money category, but I've know many a couple that were not wealthy by any standards, but these people definitely had a stick up their ass. They were entering the world of politics. Or I should say had already entered as they had that stench about them, a kind of "Dick Nixon" perfume. After making a joke about the great weed he supplied to the neighborhood I never heard from him again. Or gotten any of that great weed from him again. But again, my friends, the joke was made in private, at my house at my bar. Just me and him sitting there having an after work beer. I guess all the hidden microphones made him nervous. I don't know why, they were all in the bathroom...

Religion - this, to me, is the most confusing because of the sheer hypocrisy that's gone down lately. Can some one tell me whatever happened to "Separation of Church and State"? I'm not talking about the "Tea-baggers" I'm talking about laws that are already on the books, have been enforced for years, and are all blatantly about religion. Some push them under the carpet by calling them "Blue Laws". That's bullshit. I could go on forever about all of these points so I'll keep it short.

How can history and science be discounted by religion? How can something that can and has been proven, like evolution, be discounted by something that has never been proven, does not hold one shred of viable evidence, and must be sustained by having "Faith"? Personally I don't give a shit, but when you start forcing your religious beliefs on my kids in school you've crossed a line. At school that is paid for by public funding? This means MY MONEY! If these people want to send their kids to a Madrasah, I mean a religious school, that's fine with me. This is America. Just don't expect me to pay for it! That's also America, motherfucker!

I get scared when a person that does not believe in evolution can actually be a presidential candidate. Mike Huckabee, now here's a piece of work. I wonder if these people that believe in creationism actually put some thought into what would happen to this country if Mike Huckabee's full agenda was put into action. What would America be like under President Huckabee? I see the creationists eye's glaze over as that little "children of the corn" smile comes to their lily white faces.

And I see the realists, lining up to buy one-way tickets to Canada. After seeing President Huckabee "Speaking in Tongues" during the State of the Union Address there's been a second mass exodus! The first exodus, mainly consisted of catholic families with young boys, started right after the Huckabee Administration passed the man/boy love act.

The point I guess I'm trying to make here brothers and sisters and all you little weirdos in between (love 'ya) is forgiveness. Where is the forgiveness and understanding that is supposed to be a major part of spirituality, and a major part of religion? Yes I said religion. Every religion I've ever known has always preached peace, love, understanding, and most of all forgiveness. Salvation. Hope. Where have these things gone? Has status killed the very core of all of our "higher powers"?

Well kids, there will be no understanding in Mudville tonight. I found out it was my views on his newly found religion that caused my old friend's soapbox to wobble. He had been reading my column. In this age of social networking he was afraid I'd post some crazy past antic or blatant drug abuse we used to enjoy so often. Are these people so fucking delusional that I care so much about them that I'm going to waste my time and energy writing something damning on their fucking FaceWall? I guess so, because that's exactly what the reason turned out to be.

When it comes to his fellow parishioners finding out about his past he may have valid fears. Just take a look at some holier-than-thou leaders of the Evangelical and Baptist churches that have had their past exposed. How about Ted Haggard? Remember him, the leader of the "New Life Church" of Colorado Springs, Colorado that got caught in a tryst involving a hunky gay masseur and pile of crystal meth? Old Ted really got fucked over on that one. Where's the forgiveness? Where's the compassion? Pastor Ted did go to a three week clinic that washed all of the gay off of him, so what's the fuckin' problem?

Maybe there's some of Pastor Ted's "buddies" that don't want him around, some other upstanding members of their congregation that have the same skeletons in their closet for example. For some reason I have not been able to find an explanation for, Ted Haggard agreed contractually not to live in the State of Colorado. Sure he was paid but why did he have to physically disappear? Maybe the other boys that were eventually paid off by the church had something to do with that. The boys were paid six figures to keep things quiet, money not too well spent, eh?

Well if my old friend is worried that his past actions and statements would sully him in the eyes of his church he damn well should be. He should catch the next train to Clarksville, Daddy-o, because if this is their version of forgiveness and understanding he's fucked.

And if someone like him is elected President we're all fucked.



Selah.

The Janie Hendrix Experience

On September 18, 1970 at the ripe old age of twenty-seven the world lost Jimi Hendrix, arguably the most incredible rock-n-roll guitar prodigy ever. Jimi died almost broke, a victim of the "same old story" music business bullshit. He was the antithesis of the artist that was only interested in making "the music in my head", the record company peons be damned! Luckily for the corporate slime that always oozed its shadow behind Hendrix, Jimi was a genius when it came to music. A genius that still stands unequaled.

His guitar playing, performance style, and innovation were unparalleled. The sums of money Hendrix brought in were staggering for those times. He was reported to have been paid $30,000.00 to play at Woodstock, the highest sum paid to any artist to date in 1969.

Of course Jimi saw little of the vast sums of currency and died with no will and an incredible trove of unreleased material. This meant an enormous windfall was in store for whomever could regain the rights to release (and get paid for) Jimi's work. The shitstorm that transpired lasted for years and when the leftovers finally got to the Hendrix family the greed continued completely unabated.

One person of note that makes me want to vomit (I actually want to vomit...) is Jimi's "stepsister" Janie. Janie was no blood relation to Jimi or any other Hendrix for that matter. Janie did not grow up with her older brother and only met him after her mother married Jimi's father, Al Hendrix. It is not known who Janie's father is, but it's sure as hell not Al Hendrix.

That didn't stop little Janie from cozying up to old Al, he needed the help. Al Hendrix was barely able to read and had been in increasingly bad health since the late 1970's. Al Hendrix died in 2002 when he was in the care of little Janie, leaving the management of Experience Hendrix, LLC up to Janie and a cousin of Jimi Hendrix, Robert Hendrix.

Besides Janie and Jimi's younger brother, Leon, there were seven other beneficiaries and companies poised to inherit monies from "Experience Hendrix,LLC". It took less than two years before a probate lawsuit was filed that named Janie and Robert Hendrix as the parties responsible for cutting off payments to the other seven beneficiaries.

Soon after Al Hendrix's death the beneficiaries of the trust complained bitterly that they were not receiving payments and the trust was being mismanaged by Janie and Robert. Janie and Robert cried out with excuses like "Al wanted no money to be disbursed before all outstanding financial obligations of the trust had been settled." Well, not to disparage Al, but I kind of doubt Al could spell "disbursed" and I'd also bet my bottom dollar that he didn't give two shits about anyone outside the family getting paid - especially after he died!

Jimi's only relative that he could really relate to, ever, was his younger brother Leon. Although they didn't spend much time together after Jimi left his home town of Seattle they were very close and cared deeply about each other. After Leon was arrested in Seattle Jimi refused to see him in jail, not out of anger but he felt the sight, the reality of it all, could be damaging to all those present.

Jimi was planning on helping Leon get back on his feet, he was also a guitar player, nowhere near his brother's talent, but Leon was hopeful. According to what I've gathered Jimi and Leon were still very close when Jimi died.

While under the care of Janie and Robert Hendrix, Jimi's father Al somehow decided that Leon Hendrix, Jimi's only living blood relative, was no longer worthy of the large inheritance he was about to receive.

Out of the blue Al Hendrix, a man that could barely speak coherently at this point, cut his youngest son off completely. The legal affidavits explained that it was due to Leon's past drug use, demands for money, and threats of litigation as the reasons for denying Leon and his family his inheritance.

In the separate legal claims filed by the other seven beneficiaries the same allegations were made: Janie and Robert were illegally refusing to disburse money to them. This were the same people that stated the money was first and foremost going to settling all outstanding debts of the Hendrix LLC. These same people paid themselves exorbitant salaries, took out large "no interest" loans for themselves, and drove several expensive luxury automobiles. They defended themselves by stating that they were given bad advice from accountants.

Were there three accountants? One fat and bald, one with curly hair, and one (the boss) with a Beatles type haircut? Was the boss named "Moe"?

They looked a judge right in the face and blamed this kind of spending on bad advice from an accountant? Was their accountant also a used car salesman? I've heard some crap in my life, but Holy Shit!

The judge was more than happy to cut off money to a black man that used drugs. After all, just mention the word "drugs" around any type of Police or Judicial personnel and you got yourself an audience - one that's on your side.

It's just like the assholes that cause traffic accidents and, when questioned by the authorities, they blurt out "He was going way too fast!". The cops and courts eat this shit up and take it for gospel when they hear those special words.

So little Janie who was so close to Jimi as to have had only one conversation with him, in an airport, that lasted all of two hours, got Jimi's only brother and his family cut off without a dime.

The "drug use" thing angers me. Wasn't it a black man that took drugs (a lot of drugs) the one that made all this money in the first place? And I can't imagine why Leon was threatening Janie with litigation. I think he might have wanted his fair share for himself and his family. And since when is threatening someone with litigation a negative mark on you during an inheritance "battle". Isn't that what the fuck you are supposed to do? Isn't this the proper legal alternative to having someone slap the shit out of little Janie here?

So Leon Hendrix, Jimi's only living blood relative, has no say whatsoever when it comes to his brothers music. Since the ruling Experience Hendrix, LLC, has released some material that was obviously never approved by Jimi, or any other real Hendrix for that matter.

I just listened to Jimi's new release "Valleys of Neptune" . This recording is living proof that some music should just stay where the creator left it. While it is impossible to ever call Hendrix recordings crap, this is definitely something Jimi would never have let be released voluntarily. Jimi created music in his early twenties that no other musician alive has ever come close to when it comes to pure emotion. This recording falls way short of his perfectionist ways. Jimi would never have let this see the light of day in its current configuration.

Of course it's Janie that now decides what is Jimi's music. Her fortune, said to be worth between 80 and 200 million dollars can't get any fatter if no new music is released. Fuck what Jimi wanted, Janie needs more millions!

You also have to deal with the LLC if you want to use Jimi's music for any type of soundtrack. There are new guidelines for the use of Jimi's music. They can no longer be heard during scenes that depict any type of drug use or reference. We all know how anti-drug Jimi Hendrix was! There was also a footnote used at the end of every new Hendrix documentary or any type of film that states "Jimi had no trace of heroin in his system at the time of his death".

There. That certainly clears that up. Of course Jimi never used heroin! I'm sure the couple of times he was busted for possessing heroin he was completely unaware that it was in his luggage. And I'm sure Tommy Chong is completely full of shit when he told Howard Stern's audience that he had seen Jimi shooting heroin on the floor in a men's room somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. This was a firsthand account by someone with absolutely no reason to disparage his former friend.

Tommy Chong doesn't come across as the "narc" type to me, I can't imagine why...

Janie and this asshole "Thomas Hendrix" do come across as "holier than thou" types. They try to swindle the rightful heirs out of their inheritance because I guess they feel they need all of the money. They then go about trying to change history by rewriting the legend of Hendrix with the hope that the new sanitized version of his music will make them even more money. Maybe they can spend some of that money finishing Jimi's graveside memorial.

Fuck these people. I'll bet Janie Hendrix doesn't even know that the lyrics to "If Six was Nine" are referring to people just like her.

I'd almost like to think Jimi would be rolling over in his grave right now because of this. But I'm sure he'd just shrug, smile and say something really fucking cool. I know that sounds ridiculous and it's pretty bad copy.

But Jimi was pretty fucking cool.




Selah.

A Putrid Travesty In Sin City

Alright. Enough. No more.
Of course I could only possibly be talking about Paris Hilton. I finally say "Enough!" after standing up for Paris Hilton. My extremely limited personal experience with the hotel heiress came one New Year's Eve at the Las Vegas Hilton. We were there for a party, as was every other human in Sodom. It was one hell of a party, real first class all the way.

There was a big live band, an orchestra really, phenomenal food and top shelf booze - all you ever wanted - and then some, in the grand Las Vegas tradition. And the one thing that always "separates the men from the boys" is the incredible service. You hardly ever noticed "them" because you never had to ask for anything. Libation just appeared like the waitstaff had you on surveillance. Maybe they did. After all, this was Vegas, the town where anything can happen (and usually does).

We arrived at the bash with another couple and were pleased to see we had a great table, right in front of the stage, and not far from the dance floor. We were sitting at the large round table with a third couple making it the six of us, whooping it up on a chilly New Year's Eve in the greatest party town on earth.

And whoop we did. After bottle upon bottle of fine wine during dinner the grape orgy continued when the champagne started flowing. The good stuff, none of this shaking and spraying bullshit. This was some fine bubbly. How the fuck did we end up here? The thought was ringing in my head all night, but screw it! We stepped in something good, which is always a nice surprise. I'm always astonished, especially lately, when you get to a function and it doesn't suck out loud and this was certainly a nice surprise.

The women were getting on quite well, lots of singing and dancing going on. Us guys were having a good time from what I can remember. The husband of my wife's friend is a good guy, a lot of fun and the other guy, named Rick was down to earth, fun, pleasant guy also.

The bandleader then surprised us by announcing that Paris Hilton was making an appearance and would be sitting at a particular table number (I can't remember what the table number was.). Well, I grabbed our camera and set out to find the celebrity table. My search kept bringing me back to the table we were already sitting at. This is when I noticed two things that completely changed the aura of that night in the desert.

One: The table number they announced for Paris Hilton was our table number. Two: I realized the other couple at our table were Rick and Kathy Hilton, Paris' Mom and Dad.

Cool.

Security guards and attendants swarmed over the area. Being seated at the Hilton's table (it was now the Hilton's table...) gave us instant celebrity. Extra banquet tables appeared to accommodate the entourage. Bedlam ensued as the whole party wanted a peek at the world's most famous party girl.

It was funny because I had no idea that I was talking to Rick Hilton. My wife knew and just assumed that I knew, I couldn't possibly be that friggin' stupid. So much for that. It wasn't until I was trying to find Paris' table, and saw her talking to her parents, that I realized what all the fuss was about.

Hmmm... How do I handle this one? No time for a psychotic meltdown - that would be too easy. The table area was complete chaos. I tried to get to my seat but was blocked by a large security guard with a big dickweed grin on his face. He was really getting off on telling people what to do. To my amazement Rick himself told the guy that this was our table and I was welcomed with open arms.

I never got to talk to Paris but she seemed to be really nice to everyone. Her sister Nicky was there and being a total bitch, but I doubt she was getting paid, maybe that had something to do with it. Everyone else was having a great time. My wife and Kathy even sang a duet with the band. We have some great pictures of that night. There was a huge fireworks display at midnight, Vegas spared no expense and as always didn't let us down.

So for years I've been kind to Paris, even justifying some of her antics as "kids will be kids". And rich kids will act like rich children. I don't know where these judges get the fucking balls to rub her leniency in the face of every American citizen. I makes me want to fucking scream (so I do)!

After this last disgusting display of favoritism I'm officially off the Hilton family bandwagon. I'm so angry at the starstruck jurists that so blatantly pervert the judicial system that you almost want to wish little Paris on his own family. Next time she's all fucked up on Grey Goose/Red Bull and a mound of cocaine maybe she'll get behind the wheel of her giant Hummer and fate and coincidence can do the rest. Maybe that will guide your blind, stupid fucking "punishment" decision next time, asshole (I do mean that in a nice way).

If she fucks up again they are saying she will go to jail for one year. Straight up. No more bullshit, just jail, for the entire year. The judge and prosecutor made this all very clear to the public (again) and I think it's complete and total horseshit.

I think it is going to take a horrible death at the hands of one of these celebutards (greatest word ever) to wake these racists judges up. Maybe then they'll put the blinders on and do their fucking jobs.

Paris still has her driver's license. Do you think she'll drive her $400k Mercedes/McClaren to her community service? Paris doesn't even have to check in with her probation officer, it is unsupervised probation. Just how is this any kind of probation when it is unsupervised?

Supervision is literally in the very definition of the legal term "probation". Do you think she'll stop drinking and doing blow? Why should she? Neither drug will stay in your system for more than two days and if the judge doesn't give a fuck why should anyone else?

With this bullshit sentence I certainly don't feel that the public has been well served or protected.

I wonder what Rick and Kathy are thinking? I wonder what they'll think when Paris does some real harm. I wonder if the judge'll be held accountable for letting this travesty exist.

And do you think Nicky's still a little bitch? I do.



Selah.

Expectations Of Another Age

So my friends, we are faced once again with that sad fact that the summer is coming to an end. Living in the American Northeast we face fairly harsh winters, a time where any type of social interaction is hampered by it being freezing fucking cold outside.

Summertime around my neck of the woods is looked forward to with great anticipation, and nature usually doesn’t let us down. This year was what I would consider a pretty great summer.

I’m fortunate to live on a lake, so the summertime is especially precious to me. Even as I’m getting older the memories of past summers fill my mind with anticipation. Here in the state of New York the seasonal transformation is spectacular. The world comes back to a fresh growing season after lying dormant for a frozen winter.

As do people. When I was a kid the family used to go from the sweaty suburbs of Hartford to the Connecticut coastline. “The Sound” my parents called it, Long Island Sound, where you could see the lengthy stretch of southern New York from the beaches of Connecticut.

I was pretty damned sure at an early age that England didn’t look all that far away. I could see it on a clear day right from the beach. My siblings, being the ever-so-supportive group that they are, encouraged me to be the first man on earth to swim the Atlantic Ocean to England!

Oh the beach! Nothing brings back olfactory memories than salt air and a mixture of tanning potions; hot sand and the sound from the waves. What is it about this combination that so appeases the human senses? These memories stay with you, become a part of who you are.

But is this always a good thing? Do we expect too much the older we get? Is it an accumulation of fond memories that makes us hyper critical when things don’t turn out the way we remember them to be? I’ve found it to be true that you seem to remember the good times, even when those good times were filled with hardship, separation, loneliness and despair.

I’m talking from the perspective of a man that is coming up on fifty years old. I still have the same inner perspective on the world as I did when I was much younger. And I’ve always been cynical, not morbid but saw the world as a place that needed to be lampooned, made fun of, and jeered at. With humor of course, I always was a wise-ass.

I served in the United States Army for three and a half years in the eighties. I was far from home, in Germany, and that’s a pretty good distance for a young kid that’s far from being a world traveler. The Army was a hard life; it was hard, rigid, disciplined work every single day.

The three years I lived in Germany was definitely one of the highlights of my life, so far anyways. The Army was filled with days of getting up at 5a.m. for a 6a.m. formation outside in every kind of foul weather. This was usually followed by P.T. (physical training) which in the Army is no step aerobics, I can assure you that. Then there were daily room inspections, shitty food, field exercises, etc. Even during peacetime the Army really pretty much sucks.

But all I remember are the good times. The friends you make in the military are like no other friends you will ever encounter in your life’s travels. It’s no myth. My buddies would not only get my mail for me if I missed mail call but they would open the letter, usually from my mother or an old girlfriend, read it out loud, pass it around, and for good measure sometimes they even wrote back! And I didn’t mind at all. It wasn’t like we were family; we were much closer than that. I was so proud to have these guys as my friends, real true friends, they could do no wrong.

The good old times.

I wonder how many of these “good old times” I’d experience in the Army today. I’m sure I wouldn’t last a week. There would be no spectacular traveling through central Europe, no concerts in Frankfurt, no Porsches on the Autobahn and no New Years Eve in a different landmark European city every year.

That would suck.

So, are expectations molded by past experiences? I tend to think so. Just look at High School reunions. Has anyone ever looked forward to seeing an old friend, a close friend, only to have their expectations obliterated when the friend is no longer the person you knew? Someone you expected to greet with a big hug results in a cursory limp handshake. Golly, that’s not like High School. He used to snort speed in class and then we’d go out and throw empty beer bottles at street signs for laughs. Not that I was expecting this kind of behavior, don’t be ridiculous.

But why pretend that it never happened? We had a great time and most important – we were kids. Kids are more or less expected to do crazy shit. Always have, always will. That hasn’t changed, hell, just look at your kids. Or if you don’t have kids you’ve probably been up to some kind of crazy shit lately, you can’t fool me (DMI).

Are you still enjoying rock concerts? Going to see live music has always been my absolute favorite pastime. I started out seeing Jonathan Edwards at the Bushnell Theatre in Hartford, CT when I was probably twelve or thirteen years old. I’ve been to hundreds of coliseum sized concerts and probably over two thousand gin mill gigs.

I’m so hyper-critical about going out at this point I’ve all but given up on it. There’s always something (usually someone) that’s bothering the shit out of me to the point where I can’t just relax and enjoy the music.

When it comes to live music I’m pretty sure age has a whole lot to do with it. Last year we went to see Dickey Bettes play in a large theatre type of venue. I had a seat near the aisle because I like to drink beer. Unfortunately the security is spread out thin, it’s usually a pretty classy place (go figure) so they don’t just kick the shit out of you and throw you out in the street like in the good old days if you fuck-up.

So the band is wailing away, just fantastic, when I notice a giant drunken warthog dancing way too close to me on my left side. It was a female hog, a sow if you will, long past her prime. She certainly wasn’t shy about dancing in front of everyone as she was making a spectacle of herself. I’m pretty sure that if this had been thirty years ago I probably wouldn’t have minded at all. Of course thirty years ago I'm betting she may not have been soused with sour mash, forty pounds overweight, and had all her teeth.

Not anymore, man.

My memory of concerts stem from seeing the Allman Brother at the Beacon Theatre in NYC, my absolute favorite venue. My wife was with me, we were not yet married, and we were on a date! I remember she was wearing a black rock-n-roll t-shirt that had only one shoulder strap, very sexy, and we were having a ball interacting all night with the people around us.

It was like a big party, everyone had a great time. Nobody was talking loudly while we were trying to hear the music. Remember the music? There were none of these assholes holding their asshole phone-cameras up in front of your face. You could still get away with having a smoke if you were so inclined, and the beer didn’t cost ten dollars for a warm plastic cup full of flat beer.

It’s not that I expect that kind of scene anymore, but common courtesy is a thing of the past. I personally blame these goddamn cell phone cameras for most of the problems. These idiots (you know who you are) don’t care if they are spoiling your view all night as long as they get a nice grainy, static, unwatchable video clip. Who cares about the hundreds of dollars you shelled out for your ticket?

So I think this is a prime example of my previous experiences shaping my current expectations. I’m going to see Roger Waters perform “The Wall” concert in October. He is supposed to be recreating the original 1978 concert of which only about ten performances were ever done, stateside anyways.

I was at one of the original “Wall” concerts. It was the most incredible show I’ve ever seen, bar none. I’m looking forward to this new show with great anticipation along with a nice big dollop of angst! But this time I’m bringing back-up, my friends are huge. I pity the fool that holds a cell phone up in front of my face that night.

We’re going to party like it’s 1978 all over again.

Of course this time we’re not going to run out of gas at 2a.m.



Selah.