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4/12/02 12 gauge rampage Across deserts of the night, where there's never burnt a light Dagnation. Issue number 12 already. Where does the time go? Down the drain, my friends, just like Marc Bolan said, and went himself, his brains busted out on an English tree trunk. I'll try to make this an extra length commemorative double issue (lucky you), if my neck holds up. If you've been subscribing from the beginning, you've been treated to over 50,000 words (10,000 of which have been either "fuck" or "fucking"), and besides being able to keep up with my one of a kind adventures for the past almost 4 months, you've also gotten 15 band/CD reviews, 14 drink recipes or recommendations, 11 movie reviews, 4 live band reviews, 4 website recommendations or links, 4 magazine recommendations, 3 television show reviews, 2 food recipes, and one condemnation of a country and it's people. Some of you have been asking for more recipes, but since the Beckley thing started I haven't been cooking like I once did. Still, here's a couple quick ones for ya. Stop by General Seafood and get a half pound of FRESH tuna steak, slice it real thin, dip in wasabi, or else grate a little fresh horseradish over it, eat it, two points extra if you use chopsticks. Don't you dare say yuck until you've tried it. If that doesn't work for you, go get a cut of beef you like the flavor of, I usually use tenderloin, cut it into bite size pieces, marinate it overnight in red wine and garlic, a little Italian seasoning if you like that, next day, get it out and eat it. If you absolutely must, go ahead and cook it, it's good that way as well, I'd grill or broil it, and I wouldn't bother cutting it up, that's only if you're eating it raw. This is also an awesome marinade for venison, but you have to cook that, I wouldn't recommend anyone eat raw deer meat. For those of you concerned about the Xenedrine abuse mentioned last issue, thanks, and don't worry, I've quit. It was nice being at least semi-alert there for a while, but I was starting to get those nasty speeder shakes (and Xenedrine is nothing but legal speed), if any of you went to high school with speed freaks like Joe and I did, you'll know what I'm talking about, and I didn't want to turn into Terry Cooper, who was pretty funny there for a while, with his pupils which would expand and contract as you watched them, and his total lose of mandible control, so that his jaw would move sideways instead of up and down when he'd make this gibberish thing that passed for human speech with him, before he went genuinely, and as far as I know, permanently, insane. Scary guy, scary fate. Don't know if being on (or going off) the X had anything to do with the night time festivities this week, but it's been weird. Woke up about 3 am Monday morning with the most ungodly leg cramp imaginable. I'm talking turn your stomach, piss your pants pain here, I couldn't believe it, there was a knot in my calf the size of your fist. I'm sure it's a traumatic experience for a kid to be awakened by screaming, and come running into your dad's bedroom to see him doing these bizarro, Jerry Lewis hit by a banana truck back flips and gyrations- I swear at one point both my feet hit the ceiling at the same time- and hollering, "Grab my knot! GRAB MY KNOT!!" It took both the girls a good two minutes to massage that horrific cramp out of my calf. A still shaken Rachel said as we were driving to school, "It was like you had an alien trying to get out of your leg." Yeah, well you know what? That's exactly how it felt. At least I always sleep in boxers when the girls are home, or it could've been even more traumatic for all of us. Forward to Tuesday morning, about 5 am this time. I wake up to find two pair (I don't know what that is in Brownsville Station numbers) of staring eyes less than a foot from my own. After I got back into my skin, I asked the girls what they were doing. "We heard a scary noise, it woke us up" "What was it?" "It was you. We came in here and you were- growling, in your sleep, and when we tried to wake you up, you opened your eyes, but you were still asleep." Oh. Poor Rachel, Alien one night, The Exorcist the next. "Well, everything's fine now, let me tuck you back in, you girls can sleep a little longer". When I got up to tuck them back in their beds I found I had re-done that neck thing I did in my sleep back in January (you Charleston CCIL folk remember what an ordeal I made out of that for all of us, tried to treat it with frozen elk compresses and beer) big knot this time in the back of my neck, and pain/numbness on my right side going all the way down to my hand. Dang it. It was hurting bad enough yesterday that I went to the doctor, those of you who know me well will get an idea of the pain I'm talking, cos I never, ever, go to the doctor, not for any philosophical reasons, it's just 9 times out of 10 it turns out to be a waste of my time and money, they never seem to fucking help me, for some damn reason most pills just don't do for me what they're supposed to (that medicine that comes in bottles, however . . .), the only Doctors I've ever had any use for were Frankenstein, Strangelove, and Doom- and that really hot redheaded one in Candy Stripe Nurses, who liked both boys and girls, but I never seem to run into her. Got some muscle relaxants, which I have to admit seem to be helping some, couldn't score any pain pills. My neck is still damn sore, but it's no longer that "If this pain doesn't subside in about 15 seconds I'm going to lose my MIND," deal it was Tuesday. Not going into hellish detail here, but I wouldn't doubt that the fucking downturn in my already bad relationship with the ex isn't contributing to some of this. "Don't feel like Satan, but I am to them," damn, I know what you mean, Neil. Everything wrong in Loretta's life right now she's laying at my fucking door, and is damned determined to make me pay for. I'm not the only person she's treated like shit for the past few years, and it's coming back to bite her from a number of angles right now, personal and professional, and she's not taking it well. Her relationship with Sarah continues it's downward spiral, Sarah is again back living with me full time, though I think she's going back for a couple days next week just to fuck with her mom, I swear, she's refusing to accompany Loretta and Rachel on an already paid for trip over spring break to Disney World- and it's all my fault. This absolute lack of accountability on Loretta's part is why we ended up where we did. I may be a shit, but at least I'm willing to own it. Loretta can run up an alley and holler "fish" for all I care, but I'm real unhappy about how this is affecting Sarah. Had a very disturbing meeting with Sarah's counselor last week, she was throwing around words like "guilt" and "rage"- my two closest companions this past year, trust me, I hate that Sarah's dealing with them as well. The girls are physically fighting one another, pro-mom vs. anti-mom, had to break up this damn karate fight Monday night, they were throwing some serious shit at one another. Kat, that's why I had to bail on your birthday party tonight, Sarah's play practice was cancelled and I'm scared to leave them home alone together right now. Had enough? Yeah, me too. Besides we don't want knots popping out on you guys in the middle of the night. There's been a lot of things over the past couple years that have made me really question the stability and order of the whole fucking universe, but nothing has engendered that feeling more than the following. I got a Danelectro guitar Monday. I cannot fucking believe it. After six months, 3 orders, 3 colors, and two models, I got my damn guitar. It is so SWEET. Twelve strings, which means it'll be in tune about half as much as any of my six strings (what's half of not very damn much?), got that wonderful retro Dano look, blue metalflake with white pickguard, it's beautiful, and it DOES go great with my red, barbed wire Wipers t-shirt, sounds great, it's not that Rickenbacker Byrdsy/janglepop chime, it has more of an Eastern or Arabic tone, more zing than ring if you get what I'm trying to say, it's PERFECT for "Secret Agent Man," it has the sound I always heard in my head for "My Bitter Friend," quoted at the top, and "Hell's Just Around The Corner," whose chorus goes, I start sweating and losing sleep/When I start thinking that life is cheap/I know my fuse is getting shorter/And I know hell is just around the corner, both songs are from a never completed group of Bill Bitner CDs from the early 90's, what I like to call the Dumb Fuck Trilogy, The Future Is My Enemy, Wish In One Hand . . . , and Shoot The Shit, which had, I thought it was funny at the time, a cover photo of me holding a gun to my head. Now that I've got the Infernex, those albums may finally see the light of day. Instead of trying to put stuff in the newsletter as a blue-line thing, I think we're just going to dump it on the mp.3 site and direct you there. "I Asked Myself," the song Joe tried to get out to you, is on the Thrashing Mohandas site, at www.mp.3.com/thrashing_mohandas, check it out, we'll be adding more stuff pretty soon, the site is pretty fucking funny, and all Joe's creation, I'm lucky if I can get the damn computer on and off without catching it on fire. I think most of you have the other CDs, but check out www.mp3.com/sabres and www.mp3.com/tang_spoons anyway for more of Joe's work, we'll also probably be putting the Gorch Brothers stuff on there very soon as well (cos I, for one, Joe, am tired of fooling with it, let's just get it out and move on), although I'm not so cool on the Gorch Brothers name since I found out it was used on Buffy a couple years ago. Got Sarah a nice little short scale bass for Easter, now just get Rachie the drums she wants, and the hell with this Partridge family stuff, we'll be Cream. No, fuck that, we'll be BLUE CHEER. We (what's this we shit), okay, I went into more detail than our boys in BS probably merited last issue, but it wasn't just about them, I was trying to make a point. Not going off on it this issue, but right now, Bill's listening to Bo Diddley. Not much to say about him, cos truly, if you don't know Bo, you just don't know. I've ripped him off for more of my songs (4) than I have anyone else, 3 more than I have Pink Floyd, 2 more than Neil Diamond (quit yer snickering, early Neil Diamond was fucking great, "Solitary Man" everybody knows and rightfully loves, but I've got 2 albums of stuff just as good, all his early singles on Bang and Uni, I mean great, great stuff- that current Night of the Living Eyebrows guy you can have, he sucks) and one more than I have the Kinks. Of course, with Bo, I've pulled 4 songs off the same riff, so is that stealing one time or four? My favorite thing about Bo is that my dad, without at all trying to be funny, calls him Bo Jiggley. He also say Herkales for Hercules, tramaleen for trampoline, and muffet for Muppet, as in Bo Jiggley and Herkales fell off a tramaleen on a muffet. When my dad tries to be funny, he's mostly excruciating. When he's not trying, you can laugh so damn hard milk will squirt out of your nose, whether you're drinking any or not. As for those enquiring minds who have asked where things stand with hotbody nurse Roxanne, I think I'm gonna pass for right now. I just can't fucking get interested. And for all of you out there going "If you're gonna turn your back on it, then don't bitch about not getting it," point taken. This next paragraph is an exercise in self pity and splenetic pissery, I started to erase it upon review, then figured what the fuck, I went to the trouble of writing it, so I'm adding this disclaimer, if you're sick of the pissing and moaning, skip the next paragraph and get back to the fun stuff. Nah, fuck it, it was too much, even for me. When I start preaching cannibalism, it's time to reign things in. Big Daddy mentioned this KFC sign he's seen around town, "Try Our Livers!", I've seen it too, Jesus, I can't wait to, and thanks for the offer. He reminded me of my favorite sign of all time, when Joe was living in Manassas we were driving around one afternoon all beered up (and I KNOW most of my stories start out like that, but how interesting is, I sat around all day and looked at a book-in my family we don't read books, we look at them, which came from my grandmother, as in "Billy, go light some where and look at a book and quit flying around this house driving me crazy or else grandma's gonna kill you with this switch") looking for Inner Ear Studios, somewhere in the Baltimore suburbs- if I knew then what I know now-which we eventually found, it had a big rep, lot of known bands had recorded there, a couple guys from Minor Threat were there when we stopped by, including Brian Baker, who went on to Fugazi, I know you've heard of them, Tom, maybe some of the rest of you have as well, didn't get on so well with Bri, little straight edged shit, I don't think liked us being piss drunk in "his" studio at 1 in the afternoon, anyway, on the way to Inner Ear we passed this Vietnamese restaurant with a sign out front that said We Have Nha Hang Tu Du. Joe almost wrecked the car we were laughing so hard. "They have Nha Hang Tu Du! They have Nha Hang Tu Du! Well, let's go inside and GIVE 'EM SOMETHING TO DO!" Maybe you had to be there, but we were dying. Geri and Steve are going to Italy, congrats and God bless, have a damn good time for me. And if you want to bring something back for me- I'm not asking, and I certainly won't be upset if you don't, still love ya, but if you DO, and Sophia Loren won't come back with you- I may be in a funk, but I'd do her in a heartbeat, old woman or not- I'd like some limoncello. It's an Italian lemon liquor that I've heard is aces. As for Kathy's suggestion about going to Amsterdam, that's cool. Been there before, twice, actually (I been around), really liked it, the people were friendly as hell (as opposed to the rest of Europe) most spoke English. First time I was there was on the infamous 6 week trip, me and this guy Steve snuck out of the dorm late one night cos we were starving, the food at the youth hostel we were housed at wasn't so hot (the cook liked raisins far too much for me, at least I hoped they were raisins) and the portions were small, we ended up in this brothel, all that was open at the time, we were American and stupid, we didn't know, we thought it was a bar, they thought we were cute in our youth and ignorance, I finally sussed where we were at, and I swear I think we were heading for freebies when dork of the fucking universe Steve happened to mention we were 15, and things kind of cooled off. We even offered to pay, well, I did, Steve put his nose in the air about it, I was like, what are ya, crazy, LOOK at 'em, but no, that damn 15 thing got us shown the door. Did get a plate of french fries out of it, they were delicious, I think it was due to the Bitner-Moore Cheese Nib Theory of food palatability, which states a food's taste is directly proportional to how hungry you are. Crazy water will put out your spirit fire. They just said that on a little thing I like to call Dr. Quinn Medicine woman. No wonder the damn show went off. You know why I miss Xenadrine? Went to put the heating pad on my neck and shoulder a little while ago, damn thing's not heating up, I am, getting more pissed the longer it goes with no heat, starting to go off on this rant, pull the damn thing out from under my head to throw it across the room- and it's a pair of shorts. What? The heating pad is on the floor next to the bed glowing like a coal, I've got a pair of shorts jammed up under my head. How'd that happen? Fuck if I know. I was gonna take off on an appreciation of The Wild Bunch, Gorch Brothers connection and all, but I'm getting tired and my neck is hurting, I'll do it next time. Driving my dad to Martinsburg next weekend (oh fucking joy), may get up to something else as well while I'm up there if my neck gets better, I'll take pictures if I do and put them in a future H&B. Wouldn't it be nice if we were older Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up Wouldn't it be nice? Fuck me for a softie. Bill
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