I'm not perfect, but time will tell 
Who was true, and who was for sale

"Dat Kebbin Sulliban is da Debbil! Da Debbil!" Dusty Rhodes

"I could snap your neck with my eyelid." Ben Grimm

Hey

I was going to start this issue off with a contest, see who could tell me what our title this time refers to, cos it's not mispelled, but then I realized all some cheating no good has to do is do a search on the Internet and come up with the answer- fucking Internet- so the concept of a contest pretty much goes out the window.

So I guess I'll just tell all of you who don't already know, there may be one or two of you, Univers Zero was this Belgian band from back around 74-75, I've heard them called both space rock and electric jazz, not sure either one really fits, some guy on my floor first year at Marshall had their album, he loved it, I didn't, but he was a big pothead and I wasn't. They were okay, about as good as Can, who I think are vastly overrated, not as good as say Amon Duul II, and nowhere near as great as the mighty Hawkwind. Although UZ did have some good titles, one I (think) I remember was "Mekanik Destrutiv Kommadoh", but then again I might be remembering something else, like the album I wrote in my sleep last night, cos why would a bunch of Belgians, who I'm pretty sure spoke French, write a song with (what seems to be) a German title?

Why indeed?

Anyway, let's get to this issue's mail bag cos it was a good one, I love it when people write in kissing my ass, I wish everyone would do it more often, and I wish some of you would actually kiss my ass. From the front. Every day.

First, though, to address a single complaint, about there being no nudes in last issue, brother, you obviously missed my earlier lecture (I'm gonna have to take points off your final grade), nudes are not what this is about, this is a NL all about ME, not Hustler (do they still print that?). On occasion a nude photo or two of a lovely woman is appropriate, as it was a couple issues ago, but nude women are not the centerpoint, or centerfold, if you will, of the NL. Okay? Okay.

However, Mister "where's the beef?" was offset by two of the best fan letters the NL has gotten in a while, the first one calling our boy "sensitive, funny, dark and sweet" (makes me sound like a candy bar) and another, this one all the way from, not Memphis, but California (at least that's what she said, and why lie?), and I quote,"You're a deeply intelligent and sensitive (Jesus, there's that word again) man who thinks and writes profoundly about the world."

Thank you, ladies. Your kind words and compliments make both my bosom and big head swell with pride. If either of you are interested in swelling my little head, get in touch.

(DAMN. YOU REALLY ARE SENSITIVE).

In the "I'm starvin' for me gravy" column, after I took my Mom to IHoP as promised last issue, I then took her over to Books A Million and bought her a couple Paula Deen cookbooks, cos that's what she wanted (from me) for Mother's Day. Not sure Paula is going to be much improvement over our normal suet and whatever can my Mom grabs first diet, but whatever.

Couple days later I open up the refrigerator, there's this huge vat of something fermenting in there, "What's this?' I ask, "Well, first you boil a cup of white vinegar, then you add some sugar and vegtable oil"- I didn't ask how to fucking make it, I asked what it was, twice I interrupt her to say, "I don't want the recipe, I just want to know what it is", she doesn't miss a beat, "then you add a can of tomato soup," for fuck's sake, please, just STOP.

When she finally gets to the end, I ask, for the fourth time now, "Yeah, but WHAT IS IT!?" "Carrot salad," she says. Wouldn't it have been easier to have just said that the first time I asked? And while it's the damnedest carrot salad I've ever eaten- she wasn't kidding about the tomato soup- it's so refreshing to at least have her making something with carrots. Left to her own devices it would have been hot dog salad. With vinegar and sugar and tomato soup.

Speaking of cooking, someone's in the kitchen with Dinah, and it's Al- and he wants to take a piss. Al and I meet Robby for breakfast last week at the IHoP at the Huntington Mall, for a change Al realizes he has to relieve himself before he's done it in his Depends, so I escort him to the bathroom door. I probably should have gone in with him but I get real frustrated watching him piss all over himself whenever he tries to use a urinal, cos Al doesn't have enough of a stub left to even pull out past his zipper, and I sure as fuck am not gettng paid enough to pull it out for him, it's a hell of a lot less mess to just have him whiz all unknowing in his drawers, the whole Al in a public rest room thing is just pathetic and disgusting and something that probably shouldn't annoy me anywhere near as much as it does, but it's one of so many things that I'm just getting so fucking tired of. But me standng there watching Al piss down the inside of his pants leg doesn't prevent it- "Al, dammit, you're pissng all over yourself" "No, I'm not"- so, anyway, I just take him to the door, and go back to eat my omelet.

But again, let me emphasize, I didn't just say, "the bathroom's that way, Al", I took him and stood him literally six inches in front of the men's rest room door.

Apparently, the second I turned my back, instead of going through the door he was standing right in front of, Al decides to take a hard right and wander off behind the glass barrier there at the waitress station, and from there back into-

I hear this commotion coming from the kitchen, and then this guy saying, "Sir, you can't be back here," followed by-

Al: Good, cos I don't want to be back here.

Robby looks at me, aghast-

Robby: Oh my gosh, I think Al's in the kitchen. 
Bill: Sounds like. Hope he hasn't unzipped yet.

I guess in trying to get out of the kitchen Al kept wandering deeper into it, cos again the kitchen guy goes, more agitated this time-

Kitchen guy: Sir, I said you can't be back here. 
Al: I heard what you said, dammit. I don't know where I'm at.

I get up to fetch Al from the fucking kitchen, I don't hear what the guy says to him this time cos I'm laughing too hard, but next I hear Al-

A: I SAID, I DON'T KNOW WHERE I'M AT, DAMMIT!

I go back in the kitchen, Al sees me-

Al: Buddy, help! I don't know where I'm at . . . and I don't know where I'm going, either.

Boy, if that doesn't sum up Al's world, I don't know what does. I take him back out to the bathroom door, gonna take him all the way in this time (and from now on).

A: Where we going? 
B: Don't you have to pee? 
A: Pee? No, why?

So we sit back down and finish our breakfast.

I'm taking my Mom to Rock Hill this Tuesday, down and back in a day, makes for a long day of driving, especailly after a night at Al's, but it's worth it, she's going to the beach with Aline this weekend, be back to Rock Hill in a week, but not back up here for at least three weeks, and hopefully longer if they can convince her to stay. Do us both a lot of good, I can promise you. I hate getting short with my Mom, but for every time I do there's a good dozen times I grit my teeth and walk away, and that's about to give me a brain hemmorhage, for real. Cos the woman would make a saint cuss like a sailor, or a Bitner, believe me.

My niece Heather, as cute a little blond twelve? thirteen? (I asked my Mom how old Heather was, she started talking about some lady Lori works with, I just said "Okay, thanks" and walked off) year old as you could possibly imagine, is also a blood thirsty Bitner on the old pitcher's mound. I've gone on in here about my pitching days (more to come soon, Bill Versus The Jaguars) and Heather's mom, my sister, Lori was a fast pitching demon for Marshall back in her day. Heather pitches for her fast pitch softball team, last week some girl was crowding the plate so Heather buzzed her one inside to brush her back, the pitch was a little too inside, the girl didn't move, and the pitch hit her in the arm. And broke it. THAT'S my girl, (Jesus Christ).

She used to love me, that I know 
And it don't seem so long ago

Next Friday would have been mine and Loretta's twenty eighth wedding anniversay. Just saying. C'est la vie.

(IS THAT FRENCH FOR FUCK ME RUNNING?)

Pretty much.

(C'EST LA VIE).

Get ready for the return of the Sea Devils, Doug and his boys are taking scuba classes- somewhere, he's told me twice and it hasn't stuck, my brain is not what it once was, I hope it's just temporary. Doug was diving over twenty years ago, cut quite the figure in his bright red diving suit (more than one person who saw him in it thought the sun had crashed into the earth). And as we all know, the original Sea Devils were yet another Fantatic Four predecessor, with the brainy leader (Dane Torrence), his hot blond girlfriend and her pain in the ass little brother, their names escape me at the moment, and Dane's burly, irascible best friend, in this case named Biff or something like that. Sea Devils was actually a pretty good comic, or at least I liked it when I was in third grade, which is I think the last time I read one.

I gave a reading, and delivered one of the eulogies, at the funeral of a friend's mother Friday before last. I'm not going to preach, but again, I am going to say that if you love someone, be good to them, always, and don't let petty bullshit cause you to say and do shit you don't mean, cos any one of us can be gone forever in the briefest flickering instant, even a rock solid and damn near unkillable motherfucker like myself is as ephemeral as smoke as far as this world is concerned. I practice what I preach every single day with my Mom, and with my girls, and you should practice what I preach as well- even though I'm not preaching.

And in a similar vein, if there's something you want to do, fucking DO IT, quit waiting around for whatever, for the last ten years of his life my Dad wanted the two of us to go see the Cubs at Wrigley Field, and I always put him off for one reason or another (mostly cos I knew we'd fight like two bees caught in a handkerchief the whole time). I'll regret for the rest of my life that we never took that trip. But I always thought we'd have next year to do it, you know?

I also saw my friend Sharon at the funeral, whom I haven't seen in over ten years, to quote the e-mail she sent me the other day "I was worried from reading your newsletter you wouldn't look good. You look great!". Damn straight I do. Thank you, dear heart, you look great as well (and your personal e-mail is on its way).

Went to see the California Guitar Trio last Sunday at the Cultural Center, as a Special Guest of the band, and I've still got the badge to prove it, courtesy of Jim Lange, danke, dude. The CGT were excellent, I love live music anyway, but these guys were just superb, played a real good mix of stuff, and played all of it well. I found it interesting that for a California trio, none of them were from the US, one was from Japan, one from Belgium (bet he's heard of Univers Zero) and one was from Salt Lake City. Very nice guys, after the show they asked me if I'd join the band, I guess figuring my three chords and a cloud of dust style would be just what they needed to offset all that technique, they were gonna change the band name to The Famous Bill Bitner's Famous California Guitar Trio Plus The Famous Bill Bitner, I thought about it but finally had to turn 'em down, cos as I told Paul, "I appreciate the offer, but I think I get more pussy wrestling", and he couldn't argue with that.

And if you don't believe me (that I was there, anyway) the Japanese guy, Hideo, pulled out his camera and took a photo of the crowd- it was schtick, but it was funny schtick- it's on their website, which means Joe can pull it and put in on here. Bill is second row, photo left, in the purple shirt that looks sort of gray, and tan dockers (that look white).

There's another before me 
You'll never be mine 
I'm wastng my time

Haven't done much "what's Bill been reading and watching and listening to and drinking" lately, been reading, among a lot of other things, I read all the fucking time, a bunch of the "Essential" comps that Marvel put together, black and white reprints of old shit, Rachel bought me five of them that the library she works at had withdrawn from circulation - two old 60's Fantastic Four, a late 60's, early 70's Hulk, a same time frame Thor (that's some weird ass shit) and an early 80's Wolverine- over 150 total comics, for ten cents each comp, less her employee's discount, so that's 150 plus comics for forty cents. Smart shoppers shop like Rachel.

If you get TCM, you can find a lot worse ways to spend tomorrow (Monday, which is today now, actually) evening than to turn on TCM at 8 pm and watch the next three movies that come on- The Killing with Sterling Hayden, Act Of Violence with Van Heflin, and Angel Face with Robert Mitchum. Trust me on this.

Listening to? Bunch of old comps I got for like 99 cents, all shit I used to have on vinyl, in fact I still do, Best of's by the Grass Roots and Paul Revere and the Raiders and Tommy James and the Shondells, stuff that's not the least bit cool anymore, and actually wasn't considered "cool' in its day. Fair enough, but if you're too cool to realize that "Midnght Confessions" and "Kicks" and "Crimson and Clover"- not to mention "Let's Live For Today" and "Just like Me" and "Draggin' The Line" are great, GREAT songs, then you're not cool at all. What you are is one stupid motherfucker, and I got no damn use for you.

Drinking? Pretty hung over today, drank most of a half gallon of Absolut last night, just drinking a (relative) few Rolling Rock tonight to try and assuage somewhat the pounding in my head. And I'm still open to suggestions for a new domestic, every day drinking beer.

As for DFZ- oh yeah. I need to finish my story from last issue, let's get his current affairs out of the way first. Went up to Lubeck last Saturday, teamed again with John (as The Blood Brothers, I keep telling him he needs to go back under the mask and we can be Los Hermanos de Sangre, the Luchadores From Hell, but he says he hates working under a mask, it's hot and hard to breath- well, DUH), we smashed Smokey C and Deacon Knight, rough match (on them), bloodied them both, hard way, I was in a stone pissy mood- that Fed up there is going to hell fast, bunch of damn whiney ass babies is all most of the workers up there are, I shouldn't let the locker room mood get to me, cos I took it out on Joe and Smokey, and I LIKE them, Danny said something after the match about how stiff I was, and he was right, I wouldn't give Joe- Deacon- a thing, just kept cutting him off and beating him down, at one point I punched him in the face full speed, said "sorry, dude"- then did it again! What the fuck? Cos I'm not like that.

The BBs are now the monster heel team in EWE, setting up for next show, June 2, called Survival- these little Feds that name their events, like they're fucking WWE or something, crack me up- a four team- BB, GAY, Johnny Hard and some other goof, and ROT, aka Random Ohio Talent- Three Stages Of Hell tag team death match, I think the three stages are a Texas Tornado thumbtack match, then barbed wire, then flaming tables. Whatever. My money's on the Blood Brothers.

One good thing from the Lubeck show, this Ohio promotor was there, he's seen some clips from some of the matches Juggz and I have had (I think I may have mentioned Juggz told me we're on a hardcore DVD being sold in Japan even as we speak- not that I'm getting a penny for it), wanted to book DFZ and Juggz to come work a hardcore match for him in either July or August, I'm kinda not interested, cos I'm already working a lot this summer, he says "I'll pay you a hundred bucks, plus expenses", expenses meaning he'll provide a hot meal, a hotel room . . . and cover my tab at the hotel bar. Uhm, what time you want me there? Poor guy, he has no idea.

Worked XMCW last Friday, okay match, which John lost after DFZ threw him a chair to clock those damnable Lynchs with and he let them kick it back into his face. Which has been happening going all the way back to when DFZ threw a chair in to the lamentable Big Vic Stone and Bobby Blaze damn near took Vic's head off kicking it back into his face. You ever think about not throwing chairs in to these guys?

(NOPE).

Just asking. Anyway, that set up a triple threat match for the XMCW Heavyweight belt between current champ Gorgeouis JC (who if he weighs 180 pounds, I'm a nice guy, heavyweight my ass), Mark Savior (John), and DFZ. Savior, if you trust DFZ''s ass in this match for even a second, you're a goddamn idiot.

(HE iS A GODDAMN IDIOT).

Again, my money is on the Death Falcon. We also again went out after the matches for Harpoon drafts, that stuff is the absolute shit.

So, to pick up our Eagles club story (Mike, the genuinely child like New Breed promoter, had such a good deal with the Eagles I couldn't believe it, I was jealous as hell, but by running such a fucked up show first time, he told me Friday at XMCW that the Eagles deal is pretty much off, they may let him back in August, maybe not- the original deal was for every week, and they were paying him an incredible amount as well- what a DUMB ASS).

So, to refresh, Danny and I are sitting at the bar at the Eagles club after the show, it's early, maybe 9 pm or so, sitting down at the bar in the first place was a dire mistake, common sense wise, anyway, cos even though we said "we'll just drink a couple beers and then head back to Charleston", I think we both knew we were talking out of our asses. Then first Mike buys both Danny and I a pitcher- I didn't say he wasn't a nice guy, he is, he's just a fucking terrible promoter- then John and Cindy buy us both a pitcher, and then, after they leave, and Danny and I are considering it, all these people at the bar start buying us pitchers- "yeah, put them rasslers next pitcher on me".

I can see huge amounts of beer in the immediate future, so I do something I probably, health wise, shouldn't (although it may well have saved our lives on the drive home) and adjourn to the men's room- I couldn't find the kitchen- and pop a bunch of speed, cos I'm thinking, as long as they're buying, I'm drinking, and let me tell you, you can drink some fucking beer on speed.

At one point Danny goes, "I can't believe these people (meaning the beer buyers) like us so much, we're fucking heels", I said, "Maybe they don't, maybe there's a sobriety check point betwen here and the Interstate" and we laughed our asses off, even though it wasn't that fuinny.

Somewhere not too far into the free bar beer, I notice this good looking girl- she wasn't hard to spot, being the only good looking woman in the room- and it was a big room. She reminded me of Kay Lyons- not nearly as gorgeous as Kay, and once I spoke with her, maybe only half as bright as Kay, if that, though- her name was Traci- still a good looking girl- but I want to digress about Kay for a minute.

Kay has been mentioned in here a million times, but Jesus, if you guys could have seen her, you'd know why, she was easily one of the three or four best looking women I've ever seen in my entire damn life, she looked just like Bettie Page, WITH Loretta's big ass tits at their most firm and prime. In addition, and this was the best part, Kay was also bright and witty and sexy as all fuck, GOD, do I wish I knew then what I know now, she and I would have set the sheets in my room there in Detroit on fucking fire. Motor city is burning, indeed.

Two things to give you some small idea of how witty/sexy she was, we were having dinner together our first night there- no fool me, even with no intention of messing around, I'm still gonna ask the best looking girl in the bunch to have dinner with me- I remarked on how much she looked like Bettie, and Kay gives me this saucy look- this girl was the Queen of Saucy Looks- and makes this whip cracking motion wth her hand, whip cracking sound with her mouth. Which meant she not only knew who Bettie was, but was aware of her bondage films as well, and apparently thought they was cool.

Then later during the same dinner- she had a grilled portabello mushroom dish, I had six Bass ales-we started talking about her veganism, I asked her, "So, uh . . . how strict a vegan are you?" and she got it immediately, again gave me that Saucy Look and says "Not THAT strict." Good Lord.

We went out to this swng dance club the next night- this was fall of '98, when that shit was big- I'd never swing danced, but I'd seen my Dad do it all my life (the man had Crazy Feet, to go with his Crazy Head), and I watched a couple dances after we got there, it didn't look hard, at least not for Billy dancing machine, so I swept young Kay (she was 29, I was a virile 41, at the time) out on the dance floor, told her to just follow me, and then danced her tight little heinie off, it was great, great fun- I just like to dance- and impressed the hell out of her as well, that was the first night she invited me to her room, "any guy that can dance like you has to be good in bed," you damn right, darlng, but at the time I was still committed to my marriage, which made one of us. Again, more fucking fool William.

Kay both called and wrote to me- at the KAL office - a number of times after that week, I always replied, stayed in touch with her till I left KAL, I have no idea why the girl was so taken with me, cos she could have had ANY guy who had even a tiny bit of sense, but we eventually lost touch, I tried to contact her after my divorce but it was too late, she'd left KAL herself, and the home number she'd given me had been disconnected. Alas.

(C'EST LA VIE?)

For sure. JESUS, I missed the boat on that one.

So, anyway, I notice this girl Traci in the Eagles club, she's no Kay Lyons, but who is, beside being good looking, she also stood out by being at least 15 years younger than anyone else in the place, she looked maybe mid thirties (she ended up telling me she was 36, but I swear I never asked), everyone else in there except me and Danny, male and female, was an aged or aging hick- not a value judgement, just an accurate description.

Danny and I neither one could figure Traci out, why she was there alone, for a while we both thought she might be a pro, one geezer or another would ask her to dance, she would, but then would go back to her seat and not join them, though I saw a couple of them ask her to, so I finally go over and ask her if I can buy her a drink, she says fine, and thank you kind sir, so I bring her over to sit with me and Danny, and have the bartender give us another mug so she can share our free beer. Big spender, that's me.

Traci's very friendly, in fact wants to give us her life story, lived here (Parkersburg), then moved to Florida, worked in the orange groves for a while but didn't like it, then stripped for a while- she said this very matter of factly, I don't think she was trying to impress us (although we were)- didn't like that either cos she was constantly around "low people", moved back here and is now waitressing at Shoney's, but she doesn't like that either cos it's hard on her knees. Ha. Not as hard as I was about to be.

She keeps asking me to dance, but I just can't get into this country squat band they got going, finally they play a decent slow song, so we get up and dance, last time I slow danced was with Natalia at the Black Scorpion two years ago, this wasn't anywhere near as magical as that, cos that night was MAGIC, and Natalia was another one of those dead sexy girls I've been lucky enough to cross paths, and swap spit with, during my life- she had slanted eyes, like a cat, fuck me, she was HOT.

Poor Traci keeps getting shoved aside, sorry, she and I dance a vey nice slow dance, then, since they play another decent slow song right after, we dance to that one as well, and even though it's not magic, for either of us, I'm sure, it was still quite enjoyable. As we're coming off the dance floor Traci asks me if I want to take her home. I do, actually, and I don't give myself tons of stud credit here, for whatever reasons I can't fathom, Traci was a lonely, horny, and now half lit girl, I think I was just the best pick of a really lousy bunch, I simply can't figure why she was reduced to trolling the Eagles club for a pick up, cos while she wasn't a Kay or Natalia, she was still a really good looking girl.

Unfortunately, she lives somewhere over the bridge in Ohio, not real close, Danny's perfectly cool with me taking her home, as long as I remember that afterward I still have to take him home, I know damn well that if I take Traci home Danny's not getting home tonight, and maybe not tomorrow night, so I (very) reluctantly decline her invitation.

We reach a compromise, Traci and I go out to my car for a while (I got a new one by the way, we'll maybe talk about it next issue). Been a long time since I've done the deed in a car, and I folded poor Traci unmercifully doing so, but I figure she knew what she was getting into when she got into it, also, when we were done she had NO COMPLAINTS, in fact just the opposite, she kept trying to make plans for the next time we'd get together, I tried in a polite way to say, 'let's not get ahead of ourselves here", explaining to her that I live an hour and a half away, but I'd be happy to see her when I was in town, and I would, I told her about the Lubeck show last week, and she said she'd try to make it, but she wasn't there.

I'm going to go to Parkersburg this Friday to work out in John's ring for a while, then meet with him and Cindy, they're wanting to give me the book for their Fed, I told them I would but it may already be too late to save it, I can stay with them Friday night if I want, but first I'm gonna go over to the Eagle's club and see if I can run into Traci. So, Sarah, if Daddy's late meeting you and your mother on Saturday, sorry . . . but SOMETHING CAME UP.

I'd say this is enough entertainment for one night.

Was it that she 
Just couldn't understand a man like me? 
Was I to blame 
Did I leave too many things unexplained? 
Things I should have said to her . . .

Later

Bill