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2/21/10 True Love Cast Out All Evil
"I don't have a drink problem. But if that was the case and doctors told me I had to stop I'd like to think I would be brave enough to drink myself into the grave" Oliver Reed "It's boredom and frustration, not drink, that makes me aggressive" Richard Harris "This is no life for a superstar" Bill Bitner Hey Counted wrong last issue, go figure, it was "@53, or #253 if you're not typing this drunk, which makes this #254. Let's get to it. No one wanted to kiss Bill's ass this time around so I think I'll pass on the mail bag- hopefully that'll teach ya- although Julia did write in to tell me the comedian they saw was Medicine Hat, not Canoe Head- I was close- and that he was excellent, so if you're ever around when he's doing his funny stuff you should check him out. As for me, I'm always doing my funny stuff. (CHECK HIM OUT) Really. What has Bill been doing? Well, on days I'm not catching up on my reading at the Yard, more "work" for Bob M- not that it's hard, I drive him somewhere, sit and read for a couple hours (NO ONE gets paid to just sit and read more than I do) while he does his pitch, then drive us back, but still it's about to kill me, not killing him. Seriously, I really don't like this guy. And it's not just Bill being Bill, cos trust me, if you ever met this guy you wouldn't like him any more than I do (Loretta never could flat fucking stand him and we all know how sweet she was). For one thing, he's the rudest, most blatantly disrespectful asshole I've ever met in my life. Ever. He's not overtly malicious, he's just totally oblivious and self centered times infinity plus. I've never been in an eating establishment in my life with him where the wait staff hasn't ended up wanting to kill him. All the staff at Bobby's actively despise him- and as an aside, week before last they had a fight in there, the guy working the door (Pat, "We don't call them bouncers here Bill, that's where you went wrong, thinking you were a bouncer", whatever, Pat) went to break it up and they knocked his ass through one of the big plate glass windows there. Ha. Sounds like they need a fucking bouncer to me. And to them as well apparently, got approached Thursday about "working the door" Friday and Saturday nights, $60 for 4 hours, told them I'd need at least $100- fuck 'em raw, they can afford it. Said they'd get back to me. All the same to Bill. Meet my price or kiss my ass. Or both. Also, (back to Bob) he's damn do-less. This may sound like a strange complaint coming from Bill, but this guy makes me look like, I don't know, Joe (who I have to say even though I quite often benefit from that busy beaver thing he does, I think takes that work thing too far in the other direction, many's been the time I've invited Joe to do something fun and he's come back with "Can't, gotta do {some work thing} here at the house", my take on that being that no matter how much you do the work is still always going to be there but when a chance at a good time comes along you should take it- just this grasshopper's opinion). This guy (Bob) has never- repeat never- done something as simple as wash his own car or cut his own grass or lift a finger to help himself or anyone else do anything. He called my Dad one time not long after they moved in (which was in '72) wanting him to come over cos "I need help with something," turns out he wanted my Dad to change an over head light bulb for him which sounds made up but I swear it's true, my Mom still talks about it, or did when she had more than fifteen brain cells, my Dad comes back and tells her about it all incredulous- Mom: So did you change it for him? That would be my Dad. I miss him every day. Lastly, back in the day before it caught up with him, Bob was one super fatass motherfucker, which I have NO respect for, well under six feet, well over 300 pounds, probably pushing 350 with an enormous gut, he was on that really great trip my Dad and I took to St. Louis back in '93, he was eating breakfast with us one morning and just shovelling the shit in two handed, looked at my Dad and asked, "How do you keep your weight down Bit?", the old man replied, "I don't eat like a goddamn pig like you do Bob," funnest part being he wasn't trying to be a smartass at all, he was again just being my Dad and answering Bob's question. These days Bob's a brittle diabetic, always whining about "my sugar," I mean ALWAYS, had to tell him the other day- Bill: I'm not your doctor, Bob. -which pissed him off/hurt his feelings and shut him up for a little while but not long enough, the diabetes has also fucked up his vision to the point where he has to call on Mr. Pleasant here to drive him on his sales trips (I almost wrecked us on the Turnpike a few weeks back, ran into some serious snow and ice just south of Beckley on our way to Bluefield VA, threw us into a spin cos I was driving too fast and fucking with Bob's Sirius radio at the same time- damn thing's got like 600 channels, I was tryng to find one had me on it- have to say Bob took it well, he looked up from this sales thing he was writing on, muttered, "Hmm, sideways . . . " and went back to what he was doing, no worries Bob, I been correcting out of driving sideways since I first started driving drunk as a lad, got it down to a damn science) he had to have a colostomy about a year ago cos his gut was just rotten with polyps, only time he quits crying about his "sugar" is to cry about that . . . I think we've run that sorry ass motherfucker down enough for one issue, lets move on. To Bill's Mom. No running down here, just another report from our happy home. The other day she went to change a light bulb in the bathroom- which puts her light years ahead of Bob but why she didn't tell- not ask, she never asks which as we all know is a huge sore spot with Bill- me to do it like she does everything else even to opening her bottles of Diet Pepsi which she can no longer do herself, I don't know, I guess because then she couldn't drop the big glass thing that goes over the light bulbs and bust it into a zillion pieces and damn near gig her brains out hard way. So I end up having to change the bulb anyway plus clean up the damn broken glass mess cos I guarantee you she'd slice herself to chicken nuggets if she tried to, but the worst part is with no glass thing over it (I been trying to find a replacement but that fixture is older than Moses' dick) now when you go in there to do your business, with that damn spotlight shining down on you, you feel like you're on the fucking Hot Seat- "All right Muggsy, where you on the Fifth of June, 1963?" Came in the other afternoon she's walking around with this big golden PCH sticker stuck to the back of her old gray head, when I pointed it out to her, "I've been looking for this all day!" she goes. Chuck, you thought the Planet of the Apes was a madhouse, you should've come by here. Not sure what's up with my nose, not sure if it was ever broken but it sure did feel like it, hurt like HELL. I watched the video of my match with Mike, that leg drop never came near my face and like I said last issue, it didn't start hurting and bleeding till the ride home. It bled- clots- and dripped serum for DAYS though. No idea. Feels okay now so I guess I'm FINE. What else has Bill been doing? Two Saturdays ago went over to that posh pub on Sixth Avenue in St. Albans for that movie stuff I was talking about last issue, only now its not a movie, it's going to be three photo comic books which will then be combined into one big trade. Very cool, something new for Bill's exhaustive resume. It was fun, played this Russian gangster looking all flash hard (and someone we'll call J3 was supposed to send me this photo she took on her phone but now she says she lost some cord that connects . . . something, whatever, FIND THE CORD GIRL, you found mine easy enough) shirt open to the waist, bunch of gold chains around my neck, fake prison tats on my neck and chest (guy drawing them on me ran out of ink in his Sharpie and had to finish with an ink pin, had to press pretty hard, he was worried he was hurting me, had to tell him "I bend razor blades against my skull for the entertainment of others- I can't even feel what you're doing" which wasn't true, actually it did kind of hurt but you think I was going to tell him that?), had a nice cigar and a big tumbler of vodka- and I pulled the temperental star thing, prop guy wanted to give us some cheap drug store smoke, I called bullshit on that and made him go to SF and get us all big Coronas, justified it with, "Hey, this Russian Mafia motherfucker isn't going to smoke no fucking blunt", which is true, at least THIS Russian Mafia motherfucker wasn't going to. Also claimed I was a method actor and needed real vodka in my glass, not water, just wouldn't be the same, amazingly I got away with that one too. I don't really like straight vodka, especially room temp but what the fuck, it was a free drink (also drank up the prop wine, Montenegran red, they had there- free . . . ) Also got hit again with how out of touch I am, there were some other people in my scene- yeah, my scene- this married couple playing a judge and the chief of police or "pooie" as I typed the first time and this other guy who was the mayor, all very nice, the couple are involved in some Charleston theater group and wanted me to join up, I told them truthfully I don't think I have the memory left for theater anymore, the other day I couldn't remember the name of one of my nieces, yeah the one I've known all her life. They were all talking about this guy, one of them asked me what I thought of Glenn Beck- Bill: You mean Glen Beckett? They all looked at me like I was a caveman or something. Whatever. Then in one of those weird synchronicity things Glenn Beck- I guess he's the same one they were talking about- is on the cover of this magazine that came in today's paper. Still don't know who he is cos I don't read that fucking magazine. It was a fun shoot, Danny said the photos he saw looked great and he does have a good eye for that kind of stuff, there was this cute young thing, student there at State, doing my make up- J3- who seemed all aflutter about the whole "movie" (sic) business, I was flirting with her while she sponged this stuff on my face and neck and chest just cos that's what I do, didn't think anything of it, or when I asked her if she wanted to join a bunch of us who were going to the Rivers Edge Cafe after. She was going to Panera Bread (?) with some other folks who were there including her ride Mexican Miriam, aka Ms. Pacman for reasons we won't get into, told her I'd give her a ride home if she wanted to come with us still not thnking anything of it, it was funny when J3 told Ms. P she was coming with us her response was "No, not heem, not heem"- I had no idea she knew me that well. But she came with us- Bill, Danny, Balsa, Jan, Mike S. Joe Ng, the judge and chief of pooie and some guy I want to call Jeremiah Johnson ever though that's not his name, his last name's Johnson and he was in all of Danny's movies, he sometimes comes off a little, or a lot, pretentious but I've hung out with him a few times and he's always been very nice to me. Everyone else ate, Bill had six draft Yuengling (which proves at that point I had no ulterior motive) if I'd known Balsa was buying I'd have drunk twelve and that's a shoot. But I'm glad I didn't cos when I took litlle miss giddy home she asked if I wanted to come inside and at that point I caught on and said something both sophisticated and witty- I think it was "Well, hell YEAH" and it was a good time. I don't even want to hear it, once inside I let her take the lead, it was her call all the way. I think she just got all caught up in hanging with the grown ups and sometime when you hang with the grown ups you end up- (WITH A MOUTHFUL OF SEMEN) That's a lot cruder than I would have put it, but yeah. At least with this grown up. What else has Bill been doing? Very little socially, this two week binge drunk I've been on hasn't left me much time. Haven't seen the MC at all since last issue, went out for a couple beers with Mark and Rosa and Kim at Buffalo Wild Wings last Wednesday- too crowded and noisy but they have a great beer selection, had two draft Bass ales, thanks Mark, might be a good place to hit after Cold Spot closes down cos they were starting to clear out around 9 pm when we left. Call me nature boy. Haven't used any soap in over two weeks. Still take a shower every day, I just don't use soap any more. Smell fine, no different than when I was lathering up every day- do sort of miss soaping up the old kickstand but I'll get over it. What I really miss is Loretta soaping up the old kickstand and I got over that. Sorta. Not. Got the no soap idea from MC Chris who sent me this link- and who went NS as well, but if you break down and use shampoo I won't blame you, I would too, when my scalp gets oily I can cut it- no soap is supposed to be good for lots of things including dry skin. I like it. One less thing someone else has to buy for me. In the good news column, NL SUPER-fave Roky Erikson has a new CD coming out, coincidentally titled True Love Cast Out All Evil- I'll send Joe the link for the site, which I got from my sweet daughter Sarah who is doing fine in NYC, working six days a week and calling her Daddy every Sunday. As opposed to my doppleganger daughter Rachel who is unemployed and not going to school in Concord who calls me seldom- she did call last Saturday and butter wouldn't have melted in her mouth- being (I suspect) too busy laying around getting buzzed on Loretta's dime. Dammit, THAT USED TO BE MY JOB. And in other good news, Hypatia Lee, who I put in the obit column way back in '02- I got it from Psychotronic Magazine how could they be wrong?- is still alive and kicking and I could be her Facebook buddy if I was on Facebook. Which will probably happen right about the time I spontaneously give birth to the AntiChrist, aka any time now. She was one of my all time favorites at what she did, when she was doing it and though she doesn't have those looks today, I'm very glad she's still alive. Good on ya, Hyp. Keep living. Saw a recent photo of Linda Hamilton that damn near broke my heart. I never found her super hot in the realm of TV-movie women, but she was certainly attractive, I'm sure if back in the day you met her in a local bar and ended up going home with her you'd consider yourself lucky, or at least I would have. Unfortunately her day appears to have passed. I realize she's no kid, hell her birthday is within a day or two of Joe's- might even be Joe's since even though we've been friends for 41 years I still don't know exactly when his birthday is (though I certainly expect him to remember mine and buy me beer on it and no I have no idea how we've stayed friends for 41 years). I don't expect her to still be all super T2 buff considering that was 19 YEARS AGO, JESUS!!!, but damn, I didn't expect her to look like Granny Clampett either. Did you know that originally in King Kong Willis O'Brien wanted to film a fight between a guy in a gorilla suit and real Komodo dragons? Holy shit. I'd have paid to see that. (I'D HAVE PAID TO BE IN THAT) I believe you. (SERIOUSLY. I WON THAT ALLIGATOR FIGHT BACK IN '74 BUT HE WAS JUST A LITTLE FUCKER-) He was six feet long! And we almost lost that fight. (YEAH, GOOD THING WE WERE PIXILATED NUMB. AND HAD THAT GOLF CLUB WITH US) Fucker took a lot of beating with that club before he'd let go. (YES HE DID. BUT IN THE END, LET GO HE DID, OF US, AND OF HIS TENACIOUS HOLD ON THIS WORLD. DON'T START WHAT YOU CAN'T FUCKING FINISH) As I recall, we started it. (MY POINT EXACTLY. STILL, I'D LOVE TO WRESTLE A KOMODO DRAGON, OR A BIG ALLIGATOR- NOT SUPER BIG, AROUND 10-12 FEET WOULD BE ABOUT RIGHT. I'M NOT FUCKING WITH ANY CROCODILES THOUGH- I'LL GLADLY SHOOT THE BASTARDS BUT I WON'T WRESTLE THEM) Why not? (HATE 'EM TOO MUCH. SAME REASON I WON'T WRESTLE A SHARK OR A FROG) You realize a 12 foot alligator is going to outweigh you at least three to one? (I DON'T GIVE A SHIT. DOES HE KNOW KUNG FU?) Do you? (NEVER ANSWER A QUESTION WITH A QUESTION) Okay then, no. I doubt the alligator will know kung fu. (WELL I DO. HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THAT GREEN BELT HANGING . . . WHEREVER IT HANGS. NOT THAT I'LL NEED IT. I'LL JUST WHIP THE OXYGEN DESTROYER ON THAT SON OF A BITCH'S SCALY ASS AND HE'S GOING OUT) Yeah, but- (I SAID OUT, DAMMIT. O-U-T. OUT) He- (IT WORKED ON GODZILLA AND HE WAS A GIANT ATOMIC DINOSAUR FOR FUCK'S SAKE) If you don't stop interrupting me . . . the oxygen destroyer in Godzilla was some kind of Jap super science death machine, not a wrestling hold, and, oh yeah, Godzilla WAS JUST A FUCKING MOVIE. (YOU'RE STARTING TO MAKE ME MAD) You're already mad. (JUST LINE THAT ALLIGATOR THING UP FOR ME) Yeah, I'll get right on it. "The perfect wife? A beautiful mute nymphomaniac who owns the local boozer" Richard Harris again. What's Bill been reading? Went to Huntington a few weeks ago on Al business, stopped in Border's and got some print magazines (which are becoming a dying breed I'm sorry to say) Filmfax, Videoscope, Hittin' The Note and The Big Takeover. Also got a big cup of plain black coffee (that I charged to Al, Kat, cos that twenty barely covered my gas, figured I should at least get something for my time, I kept the receipt) that was already boring a hole in my stomach before I was half way home. Dammit. Also read some graphic novels, 3 Green Lanterns (I can't make one damn bit of sense out of this whole pre-Blackest Night stuff) a Flash, a Hellblazer (never could make myself watch the movie with the horrendously miscast Keanu, not his fault, Constantine is a snarky Brit and should have been played by someone like an early 70's Malcolm McDowell not a goofy twit like KR), a Grant Morrison Doom Patrol, self-indulgent twaddle- (TWADDLE?! EASY THERE, CHAMP) -a couple Ultimate Spidermen and The Mammoth Book Of Crime Comics (all 750 pages, good stuff). In book books, four old George Pelecanos, all good, the best being The Big Blowup. Most of it takes place in '46 DC, my Mom was there at the time- for those who don't know Bill's Mom Was A Fingerprint File Clerk For The FBI, I'd pass on the movie though, it's kind of slow, check out Bill's I Was A Porn Star For Satan instead- and she got a kick out of all the mentions of places she remembers, she used to live right across the street from this (real) club where a lot of the action takes place. Also Foreign Legions, military SF, Godfather Of Kathmandu by that guy- I can't remember his name, okay?- who writes that mystery stuff set in DFZ's hometown of Bangkok, very good, Fungus, 80's Brit SF by the guy who wrote Carnosaur (book, not movie), not bad, a biography of L. Frank Baum, he was at least half a nut but seemed like a nice guy and . . . Hellraisers:The Life And Inebriated Times of Richard Burton, Richard Harris, Peter O'Toole and Oliver Reed. What a great fucking book, it may well be the funniest damn thing I've ever read in my life and is strongly recommended to all MC members, hell, all NL readers. These guys were INSANE, drank prodigiously while being bright and witty and hilarious, save Burton who by all accounts, not just in here, was a genuinely cruel, mean spirited prick. I would have LOVED to have gone on a marathon pub crawl with those gloriously demented wild Irish fucks Harris and O'Toole and the slightly less crazy but still stone nuts Reed, and I could have hung with them, too. And at the end of it, beaten the total shit out of that scum bag Burton. I don't feel safe in this world no more What's Bill been listening to? Elton John (1) Judas Priest (1) Kaleidescope (1) Carol King (1) King's X (2) Kinks (22)- obviously like them a lot, one of Bill's favorite bands EVER, consistently good plus, and their best stuff is GREAT, though I will say Preservation Pt. 2 is fucking dire, got a little personal heat with Ray Davies (which he pronounces like Davis) as few people know, but evidenced by the lyrics quoted above, the original version of "Apeman" was actually "Death Falcon" but we couldn't agree on royalties, so . . . your loss Ray. (AND THE WORLD'S) And the world's. Also want to hype the Tang Spoons on you.tube. No one's listening, or barely no one, including me but hell, I put in my time. We're going to start with "Orangedriver", not the best or the worst TS song, chosen cos when you (or I, anyway) type Tang Spoons into you.tube it's the first song that shows up. Between now and next issue I want everyone reading this to blow that fucker up. Watch it 50 times a day, every blessed one of you. I mean it. It's at like 40-some views now, lets see what it's at by next issue. Here's the stats and lyrics- Orangedriver- Bitner/Lester Bill- guitar/vocals You want to get real messed up When I just want to forget If you got one dollar Well if you just don't damn care There you go. We'll do this with another song next issue. I want it to where when you type Tang Spoons in our name will pop up, you won't have to do that search shit. I look out the window but I can't see the sky What's Bill drinking? Lately, everything. As mentioned above, been getting pounded solid for two weeks. Didn't set out to- I never do- but that's how it turned out. Haven't been able to sleep in this lonely future world of 2010, none, nada, I'm talking sleepless night piled on sleepless night, that gets so fucking old you have no idea, my nose was hurting like fuck, I figured what the hell, so I started pounding beers and all of a sudden here it is two weeks later. (THIS IS HOW WE TRAIN FOR MEXICO?!) Actually, yeah. This is exactly how we train for Mexico. (AYE CARAMBA) Don't worry. Finish up this case of Yeungling tonight and we're on the wagon for . . . a while. (SURE WE ARE) As for the mighty Death Falcon, worked for XMCW last Friday, not too hung over, finally got our program with Team Gay re-started and hung out a bit after the matches with the Johnny Boy crew, worked two matches the next day in Ohio hungover as fuck, got hammered Friday night cos I thought I'd have Jock there to cover me Saturday, more fool me, word to the wise out there, no one EVER has your fucking back, true. Afternoon singles match for Viper was kind of rough but I got through it without throwing up, probably cos there was nothing in my stomach to throw up. Night match I had some flippy kid (yeesh) wanting to do all this and that, told him in the back "I'm calling, and if you don't do exactly what I say out there I will fucking kill you". He had enough sense not to complain to me, cos I'd have legit fucking killed him, but he did snivel off to the promotor/booker Dirk, an old school type who told him "I don't want to hear it. Do what he says or he'll fucking kill you. And I won't care." Thanks Dirk, serious. As for the Jockster, he's on soft, soft ground. Head's getting WAY too big- (AND SO'S HIS GUT) -no shit. Main event for the big MWA July 3 show is supposed to be MWA Tag Champs the DeathStars (we're getting our belts back this Saturday) Vs. the Rock and Roll Express- dear God how I wish Doug and Ben and poor Mike Galloway and even Loretta circa '79 could be there to see it- with the DeathStars OVER. Over on the fucking five time NWA tag champs, even if they are now geezers (but still younger than our hero). If Jocko fucks that up, I'm going to fuck him up, swear. Mexico. Holy fuck. DFZ IS GOING TO MEXICO. Flying to Tucson 3/18, got two confirmed matches- 3/20 Nogales, rough city, we're on the undercard, not doing a lot of promotion for that one, possibly two more matches that week, Hermosilla and some place else, then 3/26 in Guaymas, MAIN EVENT FOR THE FUCKING TAG BELTS. Sweet little town on the Pacific coast, promoting the HELL out of this one, we're already on posters they're putting up- yeah DFZ's on a Lucha poster, FUCK- Danny and I sent down promos they're playing on the radio, Danny's goes on and on (and on) DFZ's is two lines- (I FUCKING HATE MEXICO. I FUCKING HATE MEXICANS) -that would be it. The heat we're getting is already insane, we're going to send a video down for the local TV, they already have us set up for a live interview when we hit town. Oh yeah, and this place we're working holds 3500. AND IT'S ALREADY SOLD OUT. Some folks have expressed concern about Bill's safety south of the border. Please. I survived The Invasion Of the Space Piranhas and time in a Martian death camp and- wait, that's still in your "future"- anyway don't worry about me even one little bit. I'm indestructable. (WE'RE GONNA TEAR MEXICO A NEW FUCKING ASSHOLE) Yes we are, buddy. Yes we fucking are. Think I'm going to bed. Once it kicks in, tomorrow's hangover is going to be brutal, Monday's even worse than that. Two weeks drinking takes a while to recover from. But as Chinese Jesus once told me, "If you want to pray you got to pay." He also said "You hab funny eye" and "What you mean too much starch?" but I don't see where that's relevant. The only time that I feel at ease Later Bill
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"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity" Poe 