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6/14/04 This Ain't The Summer Of Love
Hey Boy howdy, you better fucking believe it's not the summer of love, not around this house, anyway. What's Bill been up to? (and by the way, you're welcome for another Monday morning edition, it's costing me). Well, that sore throat from Hell mentioned last issue turned into the sore throat, fever, chest and nasal congestion from Hell, I've been dog ass sick for most of the time since the last newsletter. Finally starting to recover, although right now I've got the hangover from Hell- or I would, if I weren't taking medication for it, which means I'll have the hangover from Hell tomorrow, tomorrow being a rather mercurial word around here, I use it to indicate the time after I wake up, since days and nights and numbers on a calendar hold no sway in THIS guy's world. Went over to Doug and Rosa's Saturday night for Movie Club and Vodka Collins(es), you can buy a fifth of Grey Goose Vodka for $30 and they'll give you 16 cents back, what a deal, and Vodka Collins are a good healthy drink, loads of Vitamin C from the lemon juice, the tonic water gives you, uhm, tonic, the sugar gives you energy and the vodka fucks you up, so you can be fucked up with energy, brilliant. Had a good time, as always, although on the long drive home Mr. Mope Ass stated missing pre-Satan Satan, and the good old days, MC's are notoriously bad for that, so he kept on drinking once he got home, no sugar here so just vodka and tonic, not as healthy as the Collins, but there are times when you just gotta say fuck health, till about 6 am, only slept a couple hours after that (which makes when I woke up, tomorrow) and boys and girls, that's a good recipe for a wicked hangover.
However, my philosophy has always been "That's then and this is now"- which explains a lot about where I am in life- so drink up says I, and pre-Satan Satan take the hindmost. And since you asked, yeah, I do seem to get sick a lot anymore. Had lunch with Jean and Martha last week, Jean said something about a "compromised immune system", I just think I'm worn the fuck down from not sleeping well for THREE FUCKING YEARS. Of course, maybe that's the same thing. In the "You Can Never Fucking Figure" column, I expected to get all kinds of flack for Al and the geezer stuff last issue. Instead, I get all these sympathetic responses, and all this praise for being such a good guy to go down there and stay with Al. Say WHAT? I mean, I appreciate it and all, but it's not like I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart, you people do realize I'm getting paid for this, I have mentioned that in here before. I'm taking a month off from staying all night duty when the girls come in this summer, and in all honesty, I'm REALLY looking forward to it, I genuinely like Al, but I need a break.
What else has Bill been doing? Laying about watching LOTS of movies, TV in general gets on my nerves, especially when I'm not feeling well, but movies I find to be soothing, when I'm sick I can lay and watch a piece of crap movie I wouldn't give the time were I well enough to change the channel, or leave the room, and actually be entertained.
To digress a moment, one of many reasons why the years '73-'74 were cool was the original martial arts explosion, tons of those cheesy, but great, movies were at all the drive-ins, everybody really WAS kung-fu fighting, schools opened everywhere, I took a kung-fu class at Marshall one semester, got a pretty easy A, but that was when I had 19 year old ligaments and tendons throughout my body, and some cartilage, period, in my knees. It got to be fucking hilarious, you'd go to mix it up with somebody and all of a sudden he'd pull some kung-fu stance as best he could and start yipping like your boy Bruce (or else some little doggie got his tail stepped on). I never ran afoul of any of these guys who actually knew their stuff, fortunately. These pretenders were pretty easy pickings, wait for them to throw a kick and then step inside and drill their fucking ass, case closed, but one of Roger Pritt's buddies from Sissonville, Randy Coffman, who I never much cared for even before all this happened, came up to Marshall to visit one weekend, we were all getting pounded in some bar and he started picking on this Eurasian looking guy, didn't look fully Oriental but he weren't all white like Randy, neither, and as far as I can remember, that was why Randy was giving him shit.
Ro: Goddammit, COME ON- Eurasian guy vacated the place with Randy wiped out on the floor and Roger kind of standing there, Roger was a genuinely good natured guy, as Joe will attest, another couple beers and he's laughing about it, but Randy never got over it, and he never fucking forgave me, either- Ra: You fucking chickenshit, if you'd have helped- Randy ran his mouth at me the next couple times he was around me, to the point where I'd had enough, the last time was at this party at Roger's house, Joe was there, I don't know if he remembers this or not- it was the same night we all got our fortunes told, the same night I was slipping off to one of the bedrooms with this very receptive girl I'd just met, and Roger catches me and whispers in my ear, "You do realize she's married to my brother, don't you?" And she was. So we didn't. Dammit. Anyway, I took Randy outside, where it was just us and he didn't have to posture or put up a front for his buddies, and told him the next shitty word he had for me I was gonna fuck his ass up worse than that "Chink bastard"- forgive me, but I was using Randy's own terminology- ever had, and if he wanted to, we could get it done right then, since I'd already seen how fucking easy it was to do. I honestly thought he'd back down, although I was ready to go if he didn't, which was just as well, cos back down he most definitely didn't, and we got into a HELL of a fight. I didn't have all that easy of a time with him and it ended in a draw cos Roger's Dad came out and broke it up (to be honest, none too soon for me, though I did split the shit out of his lip, which screwed up his drinking the rest of the night, GOOD FOR YA, ya dickless wonder). I guess my point is that that kung-fu guy was the shits, cos Randy was no lightweight, at least as far as I'm concerned.
Also "Boondock Saints", violent and over the top, some funny stuff, about a couple Irish brothers, and later their friend, who decide to go vigilante on the Russian and Italian mobs in Boston, got mixed reviews at MC but I think you should check it out if you haven't seen it. And we all know I'm not the slightest bit homophobic, but Willem Dafoe in drag french kissing some grease ball guy made my skin crawl. I don't think it was the kiss so much as they were both just so damned ugly, it was liking watching a monkey in makeup lick a dog's muzzle or something.
Also "Necronomicon"- HORRIBLE, worst movie I've seen in months, at least, supposedly based on Lovecraft stories, the script and acting sucked hard, so they tried to compensate with the gross out effects. Yeah, good idea, shit heads. The only story of the three segments I'm familiar with, and I know 'em all, which means I think the Lovecraft angle was a shill, was the middle one, the oft done "Cool Air", done best way back when on Night Gallery. Again, they go for the gross out, show a guy dissolving, and dissolving, AND dissolving, okay, I get the fucking point, AND DISSOLVING, all RIGHT already, the last segment was absolutely incomprehensible, and that's not a fucking compliment.
I guess she liked it, cos after she asked me back to her room for the second time, I asked her why. I don't mean why, as in what she wanted to do, but as in why she wanted to do it with me. I wasn't fishing for compliments, I was truly curious, cos here she was, 29, (to my 41 at the time), incredibly bright, vivacious, and drop dead gorgeous, and she's wanting me to spend the night with her- and wanting it pretty badly. "I like how you dance", she tells me. So, it's not my scintillating wit, or depth of character, or stunning good looks, huh? "Nah," she says dismissively. "I just figure by the way you move on the dance floor you'd be a good lay.' Sigh. (Although she figured right- though that's would be, not was). That reminds me of a joke. Why don't Baptists have sex standing up? They're afraid someone will think they're dancing. Do you know how to pony?
Read very little prose since last newsletter, it's hard for me to concentrate on print when I have a temperature of a hundred fucking three, did read many old comics, may do a Comics Corner later this issue if I get around to it. Finished those Ann Maxwell SF books Laura loaned me, they got progressively worse, last one was pretty much unreadable, Laura said after that one Ann went into straight romance novel writing. You could tell. Oh my God. More midget mistreatment from Mexico (say that three times real fast). Cuije (pronounced Queekee), little butterfly man mascot of big butterfly man, Albrujie, has been getting tossed around on my beloved Lucha Libre in pretty cavalier fashion the past few weeks, I mean, there IS a human being inside there. Those mini-mascots take some absolutely brutal bumps, considering sometimes they're coming down from 2 and 3 times their own height, it ain't fucking right, seriously.
There's obviously not a Mexican Midget Defense League, but I think they need one. (AND I NEED A MINI-DEATH FALCON). Look in your tights. (OH, YOU DIRTY BASTARD. AND I'M SO NICE TO YOU). Sure you are. Let's go ahead and get to Death Falcon news, once again, do NOT forget, especially you, Impetuous one, to attend the CAPW show in Dunbar 6/26. Still don't know at this typing if the Australians will be there or not, it is still going to be a fucking great show, and you ALL need to attend. I hate promoting, that's all the pain in the ass stuff, but I LOVE booking. It's like writing your own little violent play. And I'd pat my own back, but I don't really have to since others already have, a LOT of people have told me that the last CAPW card was the best independent wrestling show they'd ever seen (anyone who wants to say something about damning with faint praise can kiss my ass), and that includes workers and other promoters as well. Not everyone loves me, some moron, Mad Dog Morgan, has been posting on the WV wrestling internet boards saying he's going to break my leg, and put me at the bottom of the river, cos I insulted him at the last XMCW show. Now, I'm sure I did, cos this guy's anger isn't faked, but for the life of me, I have no idea who he is. Moron. No wait, I already said that. Retard. The only guy I can think it might be was this absolute loser who was talking about how hardcore he was- a certain indicator of mental deficiency- who I told, "You should get into "First To Show Brain Matter Matches", you'll never lose", which I thought was a pretty clever response to his "I'm so tough" posing as well as his lack of smarts. (GET HIM IN THE RING. I'LL 'CORE HIS ASS. LIKE A FUCKING APPLE). Speaking of XMCW, the DF will be back in action there this coming Saturday, 6/19, gonna try and generate some heat (and dear Lord, please, some ticket sales) for the CAPW show 6/26, SOME OF YOU who maybe can't make it to the 6/26 show should try to come down to Nitro. The DF will also be defending the CAPW Hardcore title at the Ultracore Wrestling Federation show in Huntington 7/10 against 300+ pound Atrocity- (I'LL RENDER HIS ASS). -I hear ya, sounds like pork chops and apple sauce ahead, anyway, then defending it again in Smithers 7/24, at the first CAPW/MSWA combined show, against the Juggulator in a legit barbed wire baseball bat, thumbtacks and tables Death Match. This is the real deal children, genuine Death Matches are as rare in WV as people in Smithers with normal shaped heads, you really don't want to miss this one. All this illness and inactivity has got the DF's weight way down- (YEAH, THANKS A FUCKING LOT). - to like 126, no, more like 207, but that's WAY too light for a Death Falcon, bought 6 dozen eggs at the store this weekend, also two big things of peanut butter and tons of bananas, 3 gallons of skim, still have about 4 pounds of protein powder left, he'll be buff and healthy again in no time, promise. Also, my second best student after Rachel, Joe's son Charlie, was out here working out in the ring the other week, coming back out this Thursday, he's got a good attitude, seriously, I can teach this kid to wrestle if he'll stick with it. What else? Well, went to Spurgie's party at Coonskin last Saturday, had a good time, would've had a better one if I hadn't felt like something you normally scrape off of your shoe. I've written about these parties before, this was another one, very hippie-ish good vibes, tons of drink and smoke and food, saw a lot of people that I don't normally see, and it always strikes me when I attend these things how very much I do like these people, and them, me.
Actually, the Tang Spoons played a DAMN strong set at this thing back in '96, people still remember it, some photographer guy who was there then, was there again this time, he remembered me and the Tang Spoons, hell, he even remembered what we PLAYED, said he liked how we were so much "edgier" than all the other bands that played that year. No shit. I can do awesome, I fucking own edgy. Just don't ask me for good. The most surprising part of the day was that my ex-sister in law Denise was there, and friendly. She hasn't had use fucking one for me ever since the divorce, to the point of actively bad mouthing me, which always pissed me off royally, and to get a bit sensitive, also hurt my feelings, cos I was ALWAYS good to her while she was my sister in law. Trust me, I'm not going into detail here, but I'm not just talking out my ass either, I was fucking straight up good to Denise, I'll tell you how damn good I was, even LORETTA said I was good to Denise, and it bugged me how she turned on me after the divorce. Well, fucks sake, she couldn't have been fucking nicer at the party. Not just a "Hi, how you doing" and then we could ignore one another, she sought me out to talk to me, acted concerned about my current health and life situation, Tina was there and she was the same way toward her, extremely friendly, asking about Tommy, asking about my parents. She was obviously having a good time, and maybe that was part of it, but still. It was weird. Understand, I'm not complaining, I liked it- but it was weird. Here's a quote sent me by my buddy Dick- who I like to call Mr. Sunshine- that I think deserves to be passed along- "Meditation on death should be performed daily. Every day when one's mind and body are at peace, one should meditate about being ripped apart by arrows, rifles, spears and swords, being carried away by surging waves, being thrown into the midst of a great fire, being struck by lightning, being shaken to death by a great earthquake, falling from thousand foot cliffs, dying of disease, or committing seppuku at the death of one's master. And every day one should consider himself as dead." Hagakure The Book of the Samurai Do you know what old Hag is trying to say? I do. Dick is truly one of a damn kind, one of the highest compliments I can pay a person, intelligent and intense, just fit as damn fuck, my girls love him, they think he's an absolute hoot, and so do I. Here's to ya, Dick. I'm tired- boy, am I- and hammered- boy, am I- but I'm still good for a Comics Corner, what the fuck. One of the many comic series I've entertained my fevered brain with these past two weeks has been Grimjack, ANOTHER of those old mid 80's indy comics like I like to go on about.
He's had a pretty shitty life, among MANY other things, including service in the Demon Wars, and whatever war that was that they were fighting in the (also very excellent) Dynamo Joe comic, as a very young man he'd knocked this whore up, who told the kid as he was growing up, not that Grimjack was his Dad, but that Grimjack had killed his Dad, so that the kid eventually comes gunning for him and he ends up killing his own son, he falls intensely, romantically in love with a ghost, obviously that's going nowhere physical, once again I can identify, ends up having to exorcise her spirit, is finally murdered, being set up and betrayed and shot in the back- have I already mentioned I identify with this guy?- he goes to Heaven- the entry requirements in comics are obviously a lot more liberal than they are in the Bible- and is reunited with his ghost love, only to have his corpse resurrected and reanimated by an old enemy and used to lull, and then kill, his friends- "John, I thought you were dead?!"- BANG. So he comes back in a cloned body to save his remaining friends from his own zombie self- at the cost of his place in Heaven with his true love. If all that sounds soap opera-ish, it's not, it's all in how it's handled, this is a tons violent comic- (THE WAY I SEE IT, VIOLENCE ISN'T A PROBLEM. IT'S A SOLUTION). -GJ often talks typical Eastwood comic tough guy talk- Bad guy: You know what they say, kind sir. We never know when we may be in need of mercy, so we should always be prepared to dispense it, lest we someday be denied it ourselves. Grimjack: I heard it another way. What goes around comes around. BANG. -and as a single example there's this one way funny/cool scene in this one issue where he saves this waitress at this ID bar from this horny, bullet proof (as he finds out when he tries to shoot it) human sized T. Rex type thing, by pulling a gun from the small of his back as it has him down about to bite his head off and shoving it against the roof of its mouth and blowing it's fucking brains out, the girl's all grateful, you think they're gonna hook up- and he just walks away. Sort of like me right now. I was out at my parents earlier today, haven't been there much lately, no Dad stories, well, the other day he told me- D: You're crazy as a balloon. Anyway, as I'm leaving today- B: Say something funny so I can put it in the newsletter.
This ain't the Garden of Eden Later Oh yeah, Joe, put lots and lots of pictures in this one. I'm in the mood. Bill
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This ain't the Garden of Eden 
Fortunately I had a second bottle of vodka here, I know I said I was
coming home to lay down, Joe, but on the long drive home from your house
Mr. Mope Ass etc., so I stopped and bought some cranberry juice- not
cranberry juice "cocktail", please- and am now drinking vodka
and cranberry, which is making me feel better at the moment, but that damn
"tomorrow" is gonna be a bit rugged, I fear.
What's Bill listening too? In honor of the way I WAS feeling, put on
Voivod's "Ripping Headaches" a while back, very appropriate, now
listening to 3 of their last CDs, "Nothingface", "Angel
Rat", and "The Outer Limits", I think I've talked about
them in here before, very interesting guys, French Canadians, genuine
street punk types, not at all educated but very bright, they started out
as this shit bad metal band in the mid-80's, evolved into this- I'm not
going to say progressive cos then you'd think they sucked, and they way
didn't, but they learned to play pretty well, still heavy but with some
interesting melodies and SF based lyrics. Like a lot of bands, they
started getting really good about the time they lost what little
popularity they had, they're long gone, RIP Voivod.
In no particular order, "Hannie Calder" with Ernie Borgnine,
Strother Martin, and Jack Elam- we got ugly by the fucking pound, here- as
raping, murdering brother scum who are also funny as fuck- them, not what
they do- Bob Culp, and Raquel Welch, who I still think looks almost too
good to be real, standard Western revenger, then some Bruce Lee
documentary which showed about 45 minutes of "Game Of Death"
with some new, previously thought lost footage, you can see where Quentin
T. got Uma's yellow track suit from, la de fucking da.
Nobody likes a bully, so you'll all be glad to know that when things
escalated to the physical, this Eurasian absolutely wiped up the floor
with Randy's big- and he WAS a big guy, 6'3 or so and husky in a beefy
beer drinker way- redneck ass, in as close to a real life Bruce Lee
display as I ever hope to see. Roger jumped up to help, those Sissonville
boys being the stick together type, and this guy gives Roger this casual
back fist, like he was flicking away a bug, and Roger was a big guy as
well, but he comes crashing back into our table like he'd been fucking
sledged. He tried to enlist me-
More movies, watched the DVD of "The Brain That Wouldn't
Die", twice, no wonder I've been sick, once at Al's and once at Movie
Club, too talky in parts- low budget's best friend, talk literally is
cheap- but some great shit as well, lurid and sleazy as the DVD box
promises, a couple very good looking women (and some not so good, I'm not
sure the director knew the difference). Al's review- "The guy that
sat down and wrote this sure didn't have much to do, did he?" No, he
sure didn't, Al.
More Willem, TV this time, "Shadow of the Vampire" based on
the neat- to me at least- idea that F.W. Murnau used an actual vampire in
his absolute classic silent, "Nosferatu". Not sure if you'd like
"Shadow" if you're not familiar with "Nosferatu", but
hell, IT was just on the other night, check it out sometime, don't say,
"oh, silent movies are boring", CHECK IT THE FUCK OUT, it is
straight up a goddamn creepy movie. Tom Cruise as a vampire, fuck him, I'm
gonna, once again, step inside and drill his ass, not one teensy bit
intimidated. Count Orlock, the vampire in this movie? Forget it, I'm GONE.
Scary.
And lastly, "Hairspray", not a typical John Waters movie,
another 70's rite of passage was watching Divine (actually, not an effect)
eat dog shit in what ever insaniac movie it was that he/she ate it, sober
I can remember the title, this is quite tame, mostly watched it cos I was
sick and couldn't move. Although they were doing all those cool early-mid
60's dances that I love, that's when I learned to dance- I started dancing
really young, cos I love to- and I guess it shows, when the totally hot
Kay Lyons and I were tearing up the Detroit dance floors that wonderful
week, she made the comment that I danced like an early 60's guy.
Doug sent me some more hot pics of Rachel Ray, I'm gonna forward it to
you, Joe, so you can put some on the site. I'm a real oral kind of guy
(that goes two ways), and I really like Ms. Ray's lips, so how about you
include the chocolate spoon licking, and strawberry pics. Good.
This week these two ring announcer guys were at what looked like an
amusement park- and let me just say, a Mexican amusement park did not look
like the safest place to ride the Octopus-and they've got little Cuije in
this massive slingshot looking device, they pull him back and you can tell
he's not happy, for real, then let go and Cuije goes rocketing off at
fucking warp speed, it's got this bungee cord like attachment, so here he
comes snapping back, this goddamn device is slinging him around so hard
his full face mask is all wrenched askew, he's just screaming his little
lungs out in that high pitched Mexican "Ay yi yi!" manner, this
little fucker is obviously in some real distress- now, on the one hand,
I'm laughing my own ass off at this but on the other, if you could've seen
those smirking ass ring announcer bozos, I think you'd have been like me,
wishing for some 20 foot tall fuckers to come by and send their asses off
on a little slingshot trip of their fucking own, the assholes.
Tons of live music, Joe and I got invited to play a lot but didn't, I
was too sick. Vince, who I think I'm gonna nominate to start my fan club,
was talking to Spurgie about trying to get me and Joe up to play,
Spurgie's like, "Oh yeah, Bill's guitar playing is awesome"
which flat cracked me up, cos he didn't say it was GOOD, he said awesome,
Spurgie understands semantics. I can remember him and Tom standing around
with their jaws on the ground watching me play and going, "How does
he make a fucking guitar SOUND like that? And WHY?" Awesome indeed.
Grimjack- John Gaunt- is an interdimensional mercenary and bounty
hunter, but in a grimy noir-ish way, not all high tech and clean. He's
pushing 50 and slowing down due to age and accumulated wear, so I identify
a lot more with him this time around than I did when I originally read
these back in '85-88.
For once, a sensible suggestion.