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10/10/12 The Scourge Of T, NF, B & B Again
"That one may smile and smile, and be a villain." "If a situation requires someone to do something stupid, you can always find someone stupid enough to do it." Dr. Bull Hey I know it's been three months, almost four. And I know last NL I said it wasn't going to be three months (much less four). If that's the last lie I ever tell you count yourself lucky. I've been busy. I'm doing this rare, in more than one sense of the word, afternoon editon in an attempt to catch up. Let's get to it. This issue's full title is The Scourge of Toronto, Niagra Falls, Baltimore and Baltimore Again (yes, most of the recent issues have been basically Bill travelogues). Have I already said let's get to it? Then. let's. As you may or may not recall (it has been almost four months, after all), last issue Bill was getting ready to do a signing at Taylor Books (it went well, surely you saw my photo in the Gazette?) then leaving for Toronto on Wednesday with Danny for more book signings and hopefully some Canadian beer drinking fun. Had to work at the main library till noon departure day, then we first had to go to DC to pick up Steve who was working some kind of convention there. Turns out he was staying right across the bridge in MD, the next exit past the one we took would be Branch Avenue which would be where you got off to go to Camp Springs Forest (right on Allentown, right on Brinkley, left on White Oak, right on Edgewood, right on Acorn Court, 6503, second house on the left and there you are) where Billy lived from summer '65 till summer '69. This area was all woods when I lived there, bizarre to see it's now some pretentious dumbfuck trendy ass little town the name of which I forget (my Dad would have lost his already fragile mind to see it). Steve wasn't packed yet so we waited for him at this ludicrous place next to his hotel, Ketchup, their specialty being- yeah, ketchup. Steve was putting our tab on his expense account, so I drank some Stella (not having yet been to Toronto I thought $6.50 was damn steep for a beer even if I wasn't paying so I only had three) somehow we got delivered this fries sampler in some weird metal tower thing which was also criminally overpriced (neither Danny nor I remembered ordering it), sweet potato waffle cut (meh, not a big fan of the sweet potato fry), parmesan coated (pretty good) and some spicy coated kind, big deal, no matter how you dress them up they're just fucking fries, along with an array of "specialty" Ketchups (with a Kapital K), white truffle, ranch, and chile, all okay, bacon which I have to admit was pretty fucking tasty, and root beer which was vile. I liked this place a lot better when it was all woods. Then we drove to Martinsburg to spend the night, I bought some Heineken (best they had at the Sheetz), to pass the time and help me sleep. We drove up to Toronto the next day, GPS took us on a lot of backroads up through PA and NY, a lot more interesting drive than the Interstate trek I was expecting. Some of us started getting thirsty so when we stopped for gas about an hour from the border I picked up a couple 24 oz Pabst Blue Ribbons, Steve grabbed a couple Busch, Danny was not pleased. Danny: Not smart, guys. Yeah, we were. Still, after an almost too long delay- "Don't you guys piss in my car!"- and then being asked individually if we were carrying firearms (the only question we were asked, and I got asked twice, felt like going "No, I'm just glad to see you" but we were in a hurry) we were let across and into Canada where Steve and I were able to relieve our bladders. And what countries have Bill been to, you ask? I happened to make a list while in the car- Belgium, Belize, Canada, Czech Republic, England, France, Guatemala, Ireland, Italy, Mexico, The Netherlands, Scotland, Spain, Tanzania. Alphebetized at no extra charge. Driving in, Toronto looked like pretty much every other big city to me, but once we got out and started walking around it did feel kind of foreign. European, almost. Our hotel was a couple doors down from old Maple Leaf Garden, home of many a fine hockey game and wrestling match, now this overpriced- if you ever go I'm telling you now, Toronto is an expensive city, while we were there the exchange rate was .97 on the dollar, it was cheaper just to pay American one to one- superstore deal where we tried to buy some beer but they'd already quit selling it at the ridiculous hour of 7 PM. Fucking foreigners. Neal, aka Buddy Black, and his girlfriend Amanda, cute girl, she's a dancer- not exotic, just regular- showed up and we went out for beer for Bill and beer and food for the rest. Neal wanted to take us to his favorite bar but it was a pretty far walk (turns out it was almost two miles one way) so we started out at this pub not far from our hotel. I started with a big draft Carlsberg- I know it's not Canadian but I like it and you can't find it around here- everyone else got the Mill St. Organic Ale, sounded kind of fey but I drank a couple of those next and they were quite good. After they'd eaten- Steve's fish and chips looked more like sea serpent and chips- we made the LONG walk to Neal's favorite bar, which was called BAR. It turned out to be this sub-Shaar's shithole in the wall, dirty, stinky, I'm no snob but this place was rank. Neal immediately orders five pitchers of beer, one for each of us, I guess so we can't say "fuck this rat's nest" and leave cos God knows you can't leave beer on the table. The beer was about as good as the ambiance, weak and flat, there was no name on the single tap behind the bar and when I asked the old Asian lady barkeep what brand beer we were drinking she just kept saying "Beer". "I know it's beer Mama-san. What brand of beer?" "Beer." "What BRAND of beer?" "BEER." "We should have bombed you fuckers more." "BEEEER!" Where's Paul Tibbets when you need him. Or Bill Westmoreland. I ended up drinking my pitcher and most of a couple more, as did Neal, the women in our group not being able to get all of theirs down. We then make the LOONG walk back to our hotel, by this point all this walking on concrete is fucking with my knees terribly, I'm limping like a motherfucker after a while and so am in need of some further pain medication. The only bar we find still open- it's now around 2 am-ish- is this sports bar. And it's karaoke night. Thank God my knees hurt too bad to fight. I get a couple Rickard's White IPA's- okay, not great- and an EIGHT DOLLAR shot of Wild Turkey 101 and around 3 am we return to our hotel. So ends Bill's first day in the Great White North (the only time I'll call it that, I promise). Wake up the next morning my knees still throbbing much worse than my head, but what are you going to do? Correct, start drinking to kill the pain. Danny and Steve go for breakfast across the street, I go to the MLG Mart and buy pints of 12 different beers which cost me out the ass, but when in Rome- I brought six back with me and we taste tested them at a MC not long after my return and if I ever find the paper I wrote the results on I'll pass them along to you. I drank two, a Tiger from Singapore- again, you can't get them here- and a Mill St. Organic, also tasty out of a can- and then Neal, Amanda and Mikey showed up. Mikey is a very neat guy, he plays bass in the Chillers video, he looks like a little thug, shaved head and all tatted up, but he's actually very bright and interesting. He's getting his Master's in some kind of socio-political field, already has a job waiting for him at some Canadian think tank where he'll get well paid I guess to think, he just got back from six weeks of study in Belgium where he says the draft beer, all of it 11 and 12%, is just awesome. Has to beat the fruity bottled shit they export to us. We get on a street car- I'm done street walking for the moment- to take our stock to Silver Snail comics where we'll be signing tomorrow. Simply put, SS is the coolest comic store I've ever been in in my life and George, the proprietor, is a hell of a nice guy, as is his wife. whose name escapes me at the moment. After visiting for a while- I could have easily spent $1000 in that place- George and Mrs. George accompany us across the street to this outdoor cafe- the weather was beautiful the whole time we were there- where they get lunch and Bill gets three Mill St draft. My knees aren't bothering me so much now. Then we go back to the hotel to rest up for the craft beer tasting tonight. Did I forget to mention it was Craft Beer Week in Toronto the week we were there? It was, also Gay Pride Week and Something Something Anime Week. Whoopee. I drank another pint from the MLG Mart- I forget the name, it was in a red can- and took a shower. And started getting really thirsty. Good thing, too. We go to the craft beer tasting at this big ass bar with a French name which suprisingly I didn't hate. It was crowded but not murder incitingly so, along with the Canucks (last time I'll use that word as well) previously mentioned we were accompanied by a couple of their friends, Mick and Cam, friendly funny guys (one thing I do like about travel is you get to meet folks you wouldn't down to the Wal-Mart) who play in Bare Minimum, who will be opening for Buddy Black tomorrow night. Had a rowdy great time, this place had 48 craft beer samples on tap and sample every one Bill did (as did Mikey, the others came close but no big boy cigar for them- they were only four ounce samples, even so, not as easy as it sounds), Amanda kindly fetching drinks and marking them off on our scorecards. Sweet girl. I have no idea exactly what I drank- I lost my scorecard somewhere between then and now- some were very good, some not so good but after twenty or thirty they all just taste like beer, you know (maybe mama-san had it right)? Whatever my favorite was- some kind of IPA- Cam bought me a pint of it after the tasting was over, then MICK bought me a pint. Crazy fuckers. Lurching back to the hotel- you try limping while your shitfaced- we passed this place with the most amazing smell coming out of it. I thought it might be more beer so I went inside- Danny and Steve staggering back to our room- no, it was a place selling chicken shwarama just like in the Avengers movie. I wasn't particularly hungry but the smell was just incredilby good, and since I hadn't taken in solid food since those few crappy fries Wednesday evening and this was now early Saturday AM I thought I'd get me a nice shwarama to take back to the room and have for my breakfast when I woke up later this afternoon. I got it with everything- this incredibly flavorful grilled chicken, all three sauces whatever they may have been, chick peas, pickled turnips (wonderful, really), carrots, some other vegatation, it was huge and came to under $5 Canadian which for Toronto is like free.
Bill: Give me another chicken schwarama! Wake up Saturday feeling a little the worse for the beer tasting but the show must go on. I drank a couple more of my MLB Mart pints while Danny and Steve went across the street for breakfast, a silver can and a black, then we went over to SS for the signing. Again, it went okay- I have to say signings are not my thing- sold a decent amount of books, both mine and Chillers. The girl working the front counter, Meryle, was a stripper who invited us out to see her act later that night but we passed, she wasn't all that attractive and very butch beside (Danny later looked her up on you.tube where after she strips she goes down on stuffed animals and spits out fake blood- hell, I might have gone to see that). She also valets for the local fed and upon seeing the cover of the DFZ book goes, "I've heard of him,", I figured she was just saying that but upon further questioning she goes "He wrestles Juggulator some, right?". I wouldn't call it wrestling, but yeah. This is the Canadian fed Juggz used to wrestle for and was going to hook me up with before he had a falling out with the promotor and Meryle remembered the name- (IT IS A DAMN CATCHY NAME) - no question. After the signing, even though George is wanting to take us out for a really nice dinner, Neal, Amanda and Mikey insist we first get some poutine, which is like the Canadian version of ramps (something you don't want that the locals insist you eat) only this is fries (what is it with the fucking fries) covered in brown gravy and topped with cheese curds. We went to like the local greasy spoon poutine place, not the one the tourists go to, and it was actually quite good in a garbage food of way. Damn filling, I'll give it that. If I hadn't planned on drinking yet another shitpot full of beer at the show that night I would have eaten more than a couple bites ouf Steve's order. Then we met George and the missus at this pretty posh eatery where he insists on picking up the tab for all of us. I get three quart mugs of Great Lakes Lake Effect IPA's which are absolutely excellent, even after all the beer I've pounded the past few days these stand out. After we've all eaten and drunk- everyone's meal looked very good- it's too early to go to the show so we take a cab back to the hotel, driven by a legit crazy nut who told us he was a wizard (I'm pretty sure none of us asked)- unless he really is a wizard in which case I'm in trouble- Steve filmed about 14 minutes of what he says is me "fucking with the wizard" but in truth I was just asking the guy questions about the wizard life cos I was genuinely curious, it was Steve and Danny who were fucking with the guy by laughing. I pass the time waiting for the show by- you guessed it- drinking some Mill St. in the pub we were in the first night. Listen, when you start drinking early in the day you have to keep it up cos once you stop you're done. At least that's how it works for me. The show, at some bar I- once again you guessed it, can't remember the name of- was pretty good, I actually liked Bare Minimum the best, first they're funny guys who bought me beer but they also- Cam and Mick- came out playing SGs, PLUS they reminded me of the Buzzcocks, high praise indeed. Buddy Black were good as well but being a three piece with a front man who's limited as a guitarist and vocalist- not downing the guy, he'll tell you the same thing- they can get kind of samey-sounding over the course of an evening. The most economical way to buy beer there was by the pitcher (SIXTEEN fucking dollars a pop) so I only drank two. I drank more on this trip than I have in a very long time, I was glad to see my drinking legs hadn't deserted me, but even with all the beer I was bought I still spent a frightening sum of money on liquid refreshment. What it's for, I guess. Stopped back in for another chicken shwarama after the show, Danny and Steve were ribbing me about how good I said the CS were till they tried one, then they were converts like me. Great, great fucking eats, I swear. Next morning we head out to Niagra Falls. Canada. No special reason we stopped other than to break up the trip back, and drink even more beer. Oh yeah, and they have this big waterfall there you can look at if you like. We had reservations (boy, did we) at this shitty motel- the fact it was a third the price of every other motel Danny checked on line should have tipped us off- run by this bunch of hilariously incompetent (Asian) Indians. They were so damn goofy you could (barely) get mad at them but their place was truly nasty- I guarantee you there was something dead at the bottom of their green and scummy "swimming" pool. I called them something crazy funny (yeah, and racist, get over it) that I wish I'd written down cos it cracked us all the fuck up, but once again it's lost in the alcoholic fog with a lot of other high points in my life and we decided to stay cos what the fuck . . . one of us would later regret this decision but since it wasn't me, I'm sticking with what the fuck. Went to get lunch, I squirmed at paying nine bucks for a draft Molson but it beat paying sixteen for a pulled chicken sandwich, the cheapest thing on the menu. Then we walked down to the Falls, okay, cool, five minutes of that is enough to last me a lifetime, Bill then picked up a six pack of Molson Golden and went back to the room to read comics on Danny's small computer machine while Danny and Steve took a ride on the Maid of the Mist. Knock yourselves out, boys. When they got back to the room Steve was ready to go hit the bars, Danny wanted to take a nap so Steve and I went to this steak place/saloon that he'd checked out online, drank four big draft Molson's apiece there before Danny joined us, he ate while Steve and I drank a couple more, it was dark now so we walked back to the Falls to watch the fireworks- didn't really need 'em, all I had to do was close my eyes- then back to this really cool corner bar that seemed devoid of tourists where I finshed the evening with a couple pitchers of Pabst Blue Ribbon (I know, but this trip already had me so pickled I had no fear of the dreaded PBR hangover) and where we almost got into a fight with a couple of the freaks from the local chapter of Ripley's Believe It or Not who accused us of being rude. Bill: You got your face, head. neck and hands all tattooed green
and scaley, your tongue split down the damn middle like a snake, and
you want to complain because people ARE LOOKING AT YOU?!? When we got up (late) the next morning- fuck your check out time, Gandhi- Danny found he had been bitten the fuck up by bed bugs. No surprise there. What was, was that Steve and I had not. Don't know about Steve, but having been told countless times as a child not to let the bed bugs bite, I damn well didn't. We slowly made our way back to Martinsburg where I drank a few Heineken to keep my blood flow going and went to bed early. Next day went to Books a Million where I bought a bunch of graphic novels cheap- a couple Squadron Supreme (most recent version), X-Factor Forever, The Shadow Kingdom (I like Kull tons better than Conan), Super Villain Team Up, New Avengers, Ultimate Iron Man and Ultimate Iron Man Vs. Hulk, picked up a case of Heineken and a sub- no food since the schwarama in Toronto days ago, hadn't been hungry since- and spent a nice afternoon and evening sitting alone at the picnic table in Ned's backyard drinking beer and reading. Probably my favorite time on the trip. (YOU COULD HAVE DONE THAT AT HOME) I think that's my point. Went to Baltimore the next day for another signing- I'll be the first to admit Bill isn't the most sociable animal in the zoo and really the only thing I hate more than signings are Comic "Cons"- which again went okay, the highliight was seeing Rachie who stopped by and visited for a while. We went to the Orioles game that night where they played like bums and got their asses handed to them by the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim (the all time lamest team name EVER), these O's are not the same team we later saw play again in September, or the team that's currently in the playoffs. These O's sucked. Drank a few National Bohemian at the Cheap Ass Beer place across from the stadium after that game (how nice to only pay $2 for a beer), not many, I was trying to wean myself off the heavy drinkng a bit as I knew I was soon to be back in the real world, also at the best of times Natrional Bohemian (you can call it Natty Bo if you want, I'll pass) is not that good a drink, and after all the good, or at least better, beer I'd been drinking of late it tasted like fizzy, rusty water (which I've drunk). Hmm. It's geting late (I'm off for NYC this afternoon). We'll get to the second Baltimore trip in the Scourge of Baltimore, NYC and Detroit (assuming I survive the latter two trips which I haven't taken yet) since we should do at least a little catching up on the home front. "Her eyes was as big as owls!" Ronnie Gibson What's Bill been up to other than drinking heavily out of town under the guise of "promoting"? Still at the yard, still at the library, nothing much new at either place. Still with Annie, in fact we're so together we're married (oh ye of little faith), quite happily so, which I assume many of you already know (if not, watch for upcoming issue Going To the Women's Club of Love which will include pictures, and issue the Scourge of Las Vegas, San Diego, The Grand Canyon, Hoover Dam and Vegas Again which will recount the part of the honeymoon you haven't already figured out). And if you think you should have been invited and weren't, check your spam e-mail, twice since the wedding I've had offended/irate folks who found out about it after the fact complain, "Why wasn't I invited to your wedding, dammit?" to both of which I've responded, "You WERE, ya fucks, where were you?" One got back to me saying sorry, he found the invite in his spam folder- Evite assures one that their invitations don't go to spam but there you go, computers are shits by fucking definition, and I'm not so sure I take Evite's word as gospel either for that matter- I never heard back from the other guy. But we invited a number of people who never responded, you may be one of them. Or not, maybe I just didn't invite your ass. Writing wise, Chillers is still selling well, Issue #2, with two more William Bitner stories, will be out next month, Gary at Transfuzion originally was looking at three issues, now he's saying five. I'm pretty much guaranteed at least two stories per issue, so I'm happy about that. Have a couple other comics projects that are looking pretty good but I'm going to hold off talking abut them until they become a little more concrete. Although I feel a little better about all the things I say are in the pipeline that never come to fruition- that wrestling trip to England this fall, for instance- after reading books this summer by David Carridine and David Byrne where they both recounted that for every project- film, music, whatever- that they completed, there were at least a dozen that fell apart somewhere along the way. No shit, guys. Speaking of wrestling, DFZ last wrestled in July. Not done by any means- no point in lying about it any more- but he is on hiatus of an undetermined length. What's Bill been watching? Bunch of DVDs from the library, couple b/w Japanese films from the early 60's, Three Outlaw Samurai and Kuronenko, if you like samurai films (and if you don't, you should) these are both quite good, also not one but two documentaries on Rush (the band, not the circa '76 bottled stimulant) and one on Pink Floyd. Never was much of a Rush fan. They're for certain virtuosos on their respective instruments and some of their riffs are straight solid, but I never could get by that canary they have singing for them and a lot of their lyrics are more than bit pompous to Bill's ear. So why watch the DVDs? Don't know really, it's how you learn things I guess. I like Pink Floyd, they were always good to steal riffs from (and may one day be again). I'm thinking about picking up the guitar again. It's a void in that hurting people need that DFZ filled no doubt. A soon as I can get Joe to re-string (and tune, although there's truly not all that much point) all my guitars, look out. Oh yeah. Look the fuck out. Time to go. Literally heading out the door for the NYC Comic Con- I dread it like nobody's fucking business, I genuinely hate these godawful things no mtter how much I numb myself with alcohol- but at least I'll get to spend some time with Sarah. Some time in the indeterminate future I'll be back. You're not getting rid of me that easily. Later Bill
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I got it to go but I wasn't two steps out the door before I was
unwrapping it and I had the whole thing eaten before I made the
corner. I swear to you that chicken shwarama was one of the five
best things I've ever eaten in my life and I'm including women as
individuals. I went back and got another one. 