April 11, 2007

Rant 'n Roll

weebl.jpgDiabetes Sucks but if you walk around for two decades being a pompous fat-ass, you deserve it. put down the ice cream and go for a walk, you weeble.

Speaking of fat, anyone that has the weight loss surgery and ISN'T bedridden or the size of robert earl hughes needs to be pummelled about the head and neck with a two by four for at least 45 seconds. (disclaimer: there is a segment of the population that truly can't help being huge and for them, this is a godsend. IF you look around your family and find a few regular sized people amongst your gene pool, think again. for the rest of us who got fat over the years, this is not the path. these aren't the droids you're looking for!)

if you can get up, go to work five days a week, pay your bills enough to where you hold the insurance to actually pay for such a procedure, you can PUT DOWN THE FORK AND GO FOR A WALK, YOU BLOATED IDJIT!

if you're piggybacking on a spouses insurance, then feh to you. double feh. i am attacking you(yes, you!) because i am a heartless bastard with no empathy for my fellow man and mostly because i've kept off over 130 lbs for 13+ years now.

oh my, says the bloated populace! however did you lose that much weight, richard the mean? they cry out for answers. "give us the panacea, slightly overweight man!!!" well, guess what? i ate less than i had been and i exercised by walking in place for no less than a half an hour and no more than an hour five to six days a week with not more than 2 days off in a row. WHAT????, they say. that's it? When a fellow fattie hears THAT gem o'information, their face falls, their shoulders fall and their entire demeanor changes because they thought there was another way.

why yes, virginia, there is another way. let's walk over here to the barnum museum of oddities and look at this exhibit: the american shit head! don't get too close, folks. you might lose a finger to it's gaping maw and ravenous appetite. beware the eyes that speak of self-pity. do not be led down the path towards "i couldn't help myself(to anything but another plate brimming with calories)." grrrr!

Look here, Fattie McEats-a-Lot, if you think cutting your stomach to the size of a dixie cup is the answer to the ten years of no self control that got you so huge your health is in danger, go right ahead. guess what? your mutilated stomach will STRETCH later and you'll wind up fat again because you never addressed the real issues.

here's how things work for most people. you get up, you take a shower, you take a crap, you wipe your butt(maybe!, i know when i was HUGE that act took some stretching before i went "jesus, even i don't hate myself this much!"). you go to work, you come home, you do it again.

if you can do that, if you can still waddle to the store and buy food or fit in your car to drive through a window and order 3 milkshakes with your triple hamburgers, you can EAT LESS AND GO FOR A FRIGGIN' WALK. (ah, vitriol, better than coffee!)

concious mutilation of your wonderful God-given digestive organ is indicative of several things. low self esteem & having given up on yourself (if there was ever a yourself to begin with) are no excuses to avoid hard work. how did you get so obese? did the fat fairy come and leave sugary treats under your pillow each night? NO! did the mayor of milkshakeville give you a reward for being so indolent? NO! you did it to yourself! fix it yourself with help and support from others and resources.

if you'll say "a-ha! i am fixing it myself with the help of a bariatric surgeon, my great insurance and the support of my family and friends", then a pox on thee. someone should give you a bloody cox-comb! you've got bigger balls of brass than Bill Clinton when he wagged his finger at you or broke from laughing into crying when he saw the cameras at Ron Brown's funeral. pffffft!

that's not fixing, that's CHEATING! it is indicative of the mindset in our post hippie world. do what you like, it won't matter. just don't hurt peoples feelings, say the intelligentsia. Bull! F U, buddy.

ok, enough of the ranting. let's examine some facts. if you get bariatric surgery, you'll lose about fifty lbs the first 8 weeks, then it tapers off and it might take up to a year to lose 100 lbs. Hey! Guess what happened to me? i lost fifty lbs in 8 weeks by eating less and walking in place!! when i weighed 350 to 360 lbs(and i got there myself by eating like a HOG for 10+ years. no one gains 180 lbs without a concentrated effort!) and i started to work on my problem, the stuff came off like it was pouring out of me. oh, wait, it was pouring out of me, as sweat! i got so happy i had lost to 310 lbs that i slacked off my diet as a reward. so when the five lbs came a creeping, i started to eat less and exercise again.

fattynomore.jpgfrom 310 to 290 to 270 to 250 to 240 to 230 to 220, every time i would lose 20 lbs, i'd take a break until it started to creep up again. now, how on earth was i able to quit exercising and eat like a hog again the last decade without gaining or loosing within a ten lb range just by moderating my intake? ANSWER: I CHANGED MY METABOLISM THROUGH EXERCISE! by doing that little amount of piddling effort daily when i was losing weight, i was able to be a slacker and eat crap again without blooming to stretchmark-ville. amazing, huh? stay tuned and watch the sun rise in the east and it get dark about sunset!!

now lest you think i'm of the opinion that my shit don't stink, think again. i've got reams of my own health problems that came from not just a sedentary, but a sedimentary lifestyle. i've smoked TOO MUCH for 27 years and i ate too many carbs and sweets because i was a "little bitty fat man now" for the last 14 years or so. oh boy, now i'm diabetic and probably have been for 8 years. i can barely breathe. emphysema, here i come. heart disease, eye disease, dialysis and the loss of toes loom large in my future. i haven't had warm hands since 1998 and my feet are like ice. bah! i've been the lord of "don't care town" and the emir of "i don't give a shit-land" for so long, even my vaunted narcissism won't save me now. we won't even address the worst part.

so it got so painful to breathe last week i stopped smoking. it took real pain to do what i knew was right. so i'm not perfect or in an ivory tower. i'm just saying that if you're fat and getting cut with a knife to lose weight, you're a freaking asshole. takes one to know one. i am and so are you, you miserable self loathing grabasstic piece of puke. (hat tip, R. Lee Ermey!)

the point to all this is there is always something in our lives we need to address and for whatever reasons we choose, we don't. self destruction is our choice as is self preservation. i'm sure hitler was nice to his dog. deep down i'm sweet. it doesn't matter, i'm still killing myself by lifestyle choices.

what's wrong with me, i'm fixing by my own choice and by my own hand. something as simple as "i ate too much. i gained weight. i'm too screwed up in the head to put down the fork" does not need to be subsidized by insurance and advertised in the paper. you see it as a panacea. they see you as a paycheck. otherwise there wouldn't be seminars on weight loss surgery every couple of weeks at your local hospitals. Good Lord, people. we're a nation of fatasses. over 60% of the population is fat. what the hell is going on with this country? you think manifest destiny and the grace of God above is going to favor us when we can't roll over out of our beds anymore?

we're at war for the existence of western civilization. we will be for the next 50 years. this is just an example of why we could lose to jihad. Wake up!!!

so once again, my self referential outlook and inability to have empathy reaches across borders and oceans via the inter-web. what a world we live in! now i can harangue weak minded people and preach from my chair in a semi-public forum. Boo-yah!

Jazz Bass did this without Subway. I hope.

It Baffles Science! Archives

April 4, 2007

The Gift

She had been on her feet for hours. from the time she got up out of her chair where she had sat and had her morning coffee and cigarette, it had been "one of those days". it would be understatement to say her shift at work was stressful.

He had kept a good attitude despite his being exhausted from the long hours and hard work that was expected of him. funny enough, he thought to himself, this "grin and bear it" attitude seems to be more natural than he thought it would be when he adopted it.

A lot of changes had happened fast for both of them. unexpected things, wonderful things understood only by the two of them, as a direct result of time spent together, they had grown a bond into something more tangible than words express.

She walked into the house, dropped her purse on the table. she let her shoulders sag for a moment, took a deep breath and gave a short prayer of thanks for having been able to get through the madness that had descended on her workplace. "oh, to sit down for just a moment and think of nothing!" was what she wanted. so she did.

He came in the door, almost bouncing, just at the joy to be home again. despite being worn "slap out", as the saying goes, he knew that the reason for all his change was already home and, most likely, looking forward to his presence. they had laughed about that before, the pun of each other's presence being the best present a person could get, but then again, they were so in love that their friends were envious. respectful but envious. now that's a problem we should all have.

"hi honey." she said as he walked toward her. "hi baby." he replied, reaching down to hug her neck and stopping to rub her shoulders. electricity shot through both of them, a manifestation of the connection that they were blessed with, and it made them both feel better instantly. it was still there after all those years, after all that time they had shared from those first moments of wonder and discovery. "i gotta pee, i'll be back in a second. you need anything?" he asked as he stepped away quickly to answer the call of the full bladder that comes with drinking too much water on the drive home. "i was thinking i'd like something to drink but i'm too tired to get up and get it right now.", she said. "ok, i'll get you something when i'm finished" he hollered from the bathroom. "just wash your hands first", they both said in tandem, her as an admonition to him and him in tribute to her request that he not forget there is a lady in the house who might not be made of snips and snails and puppy dog tails like most boys are. they laughed hard at each other, a sign of respect they shared.

lovers.jpgHe came in, shook the last drops of water off his hands toward her as proof he was sanitary and they shared a grin. taking a glass from the shelf and rinsing it out in the sink, he yelled into the living room "so did you want a beer, water or a glass of wine, babe?" and she replied "i'm too tired to make that decision, sweetheart, please surprise me." "please", he thought to himself, "she said please. i'll surprise her alright!". walking out of the kitchen, he put down a glass of chilled wine on the table for her, bent to kiss her gently and exhaled from the electric feeling again. "why was it" he thought " that kisses from her take my breath away like that?" he really didn't want to understand it because he already knew on a deeper level that some things just are. whatever grace and spark of the divine that was manifest in their relationship had just grown more and more intense as the seasons passed. "had it really been so long ago?", he thought. it just seems like it was recently they had met...but that was an o.k. feeling, he thought, because at the beginning, it felt like they had always been together and that was a great gift during the courtship.

he stopped to rub her neck this time and they talked about their day, sharing the high and low points and even being glad for the stress of success, for with it came pride in each other, joy in the work that they did and truly it was a reflection of the character of the individuals that they were. "that feels so good, baby. i will give you five hours to stop it" she purred. "i wish i could do it for five hours, darling" he said with that thick southern accent, really emphasizing the darling part. "but if i did i'd have to charge you overtime." still, it was relaxing and the first time she remembered that day she had not been preoccupied with something. he had always been able to do that, if even for a moment, to transport her away from the stress and make her feel special like no one else could. it was their gift.

she took his hand in hers and held tightly. learning to trust and lean on him had been easier than she had imagined, especially after all the hurt she had experienced. "i've got what i wanted!" she thought and softly kissed his fingers, which smelled of some flowery soap that she had gotten at his insistence. he always insisted that she get things that were "girly girl" and said "a woman should indulge herself where she can, because girly things make her happy". he was always spouting something appropriate like that. he understood. not just powder and paint and dress up time but he understood her and that was still an amazing quality in her eyes. it was their gift.

he took his hand away and told her to keep her eyes closed, that he had a surprise for her and not to spoil it. she acquiesced to his request and waited as the tingle of excitement got more and more powerful. "how can any man have this effect on a woman and how did i get lucky enough to have THIS man effect ME this way?", she thought, "and WHAT does he have up his sleeve this time?". he walked into the room and breezed past her "now?" she asked. "no, not yet!" he replied "keep 'em shut". he walked out again and she heard him running water, mumbling to the faucet to hurry up with the hot water already. "what a goof!" she thought, "but he's MY goof!" that thought made her happy and she drew on it throughout her day, especially when things were tough. he did the same when things got tough for him, whatever the situation, he had a precious jewel in her that was beyond riches and wealth and he appreciated it.

"ok, open 'em up" he said after settling in front of her. she opened her eyes to see he had a basin of hot water, soap, washcloth, a towel and lotion. "what ARE you up to, my sweet man?" she asked. "what do you think, brainiac, i'm fixing to paint the eaves?" he grinned like he always did and they locked eyes like they were prone to do. after a few moments, he looked at her feet and began to unlace her shoes. "now, i know you are tired, i know you are worn out and i know your feet hurt...gimme them socks" he said as he took her shoes off. he pulled one sock off with his teeth, growling like a dog and she pushed him back on his butt with her other foot, making some comment about socks cost money, you know. "well, you can wear some of mine, then", he answered, coming up on his haunches and smiling.

He took her left foot in his hand and set it into the basin of hot water. taking a little of the soap in his hands, he began a sudsy massage and washing job that made the electricity shoot through her again. he does so much with a look or a touch, she thought to herself, how does it happen, why does it work and then she forgot all her thoughts and drifted to a quiet restful place and only felt his hands on her. he worked her foot from the top, from the bottom, massaging her heel, her toes, her instep and up her ankle. switching feet, he kissed her toes and she giggled. "you don't know where them toes have been", she said. "don't matter none" he replied, "wherever they went, we're kosher." everything they said to each other illustrated the rapport they shared. they were lucky and blessed to have communication like that and they both knew it. taking her right foot, he repeated the sequence of washing and massaging, taking some time to try to send his energy into her through his fingertips. he was always trying to send his energy to her through his fingers.....they would lay in bed at night and talk and he would trace the outline of her body, almost not touching her and feeling electric himself. he only hoped she felt something like he did and in her eyes, he could see that she did. it made life better, it was their gift.

He took the towel and dried her feet, sliding the basin out of the way and producing the softest comforter they had, he asked if she would lay next to him for a few minutes. she slipped out of the chair, tingling from head to toe (his touch on her feet had always had that effect and they both knew it), and lay down. he put his arm around her and lay behind her, moving her hair aside so he could kiss her neck. "i love you, i love you, i love you" he said softly as he put his arm around her and pulled her tight. they were spooned up on the floor, and you couldn't have put a business card between them. he began to sing in a deep and soothing voice. something she had never heard before and frankly, neither had he, for there was part of the two of them that manifested itself in songs and poems and the words just came out without too much thought at all. it was a feeling and he always had it. he carried it in his heart and he was glad to have it. that was part of their gift.

after five minutes of silence, just being close and breathing in and out together, she took his hand and turned toward him. she had to see his eyes. they were soft and full of love, joy, excitement and mischief. "like always" she thought. how did he do it? how did he "get" her like he did? how did she "get" him? for many moons she had pondered those questions and came back to the same answer every time. some things just are, she thought. he had said that once, early on in their time together.

"ok, time for the second part" he said, leaning up and offering her his hand so she could get up off the floor. "what's the second part?" she asked. "oh it's good." he assured her and he leaned her back against the couch and took her feet in his hands again. instantly she was electric and this time she wasn't going to keep the wattage down. she burned for him with the passion that all women dream of when no one is around, the kind that bonnie raitt sings about when she does the one about "longing in their hearts", like all the songs he had ever written her, like the way it was "supposed" to be. taking her right foot in his hand, he raised it to his lips and began to kiss and nibble on her toes. slowly he went down the line and back again, taking his fingertips and coming from her ankle to the ball of her foot, trying his best to be erotic and loving. evidently he succeeded because she moaned without thinking and whispered his name. "yes, dear?" he said, "does that feel good?". "you know it does, you know what that does to me" she cooed. he made love to her foot with his hands and his mouth, licking her instep like it was a popsicle, swirling her toes with his tongue like they were candy. he loved her with all his heart and never tired of pleasing her. it was her gift.

she moaned again as he switched to her other foot. she was wet now, and hot and could feel herself opening up to him. how does he do it? she knew but only admitted it to herself after coming to the conclusion that it was just the way they are. such a good thing, she thought as the heat of her passion began to make her warm all over. this time he kept kissing her ankle and began to lick his way up her calf. she had such sexy calves, he thought. how did i get so lucky, he thought over and over again. each touch made them both jump and they were happy. setting her feet on the floor, he jumped up and lay next to her again. their faces were close together. "please, may i have a kiss?" he whispered. she kissed him with all the love in her heart and they both struggled to keep from being overwhelmed. he took her in his arms, rolled her onto her back and looked into her eyes. "i want you." was all he said. she took his hand and squeezed. "i'm yours." she said. he knew she was but he never wanted to take her for granted. it was their gift.

she pulled off his shirt and he took off her blouse and laid her on her tummy. trying to burn every sight, thought and touch into his memory, he rubbed her back for her. each time he got to the base of her spine, he went lower onto her buttocks, sending chills through her "you ok?" he asked. "oh yesssssssssssss!" she replied, "just wonderful." "ok then, he said with a smile and leaned down to kiss her back. he got up on his knees and worked his way down her legs, kneading the muscles and getting the relaxation she longed for to happen. as he worked his way up to her neck and shoulders, he paused and gave thanks. working her shoulders and going from her scalp to her spine, he showed her the love in his heart and she felt it. she could feel him across the country was her only thought as the passion burned brighter.

he stood up and offered his hand. she took it and they walked to the bedroom, side by side, except when he had to move behind her to pass the table in the hallway. as he was behind her, he took a long look at her shapely rear and gave thanks that someone with all that love in their heart for him could be so attractive, inside and out. he had told her before that she was everything he had asked for, but he wondered if she knew or believed him. they walked to the bed and he picked her up in his arms, kissed her and lay her down on the bed as smooth and gentle as a mother would lay her baby to sleep. he got in the bed and kissed her again. slow at first, the passion got them and they kissed each other like they had that first time, when the connection was revealed. not something quiet or something tentative, the first time they had made love, they had been effected like "getting hit with a gol-darn axe handle". thus it ever was....it was their gift.

they made love.

later, when she was sleepy, he brought her the glass of wine(he had slipped it back into the refrigerator and it was still chilled. so thoughtful) and her cigarettes and they talked, her laying on her side and he facing her. they spoke of their love and the desire to grow it deeper, they spoke of their days together and their nights apart and they spoke directly to each other's hearts. they could do that without words but sometimes words are good too. it was their gift.

he told her that when he was away from her and felt the tingle, he would sometimes pleasure himself to the thoughts of their lovemaking. his greatest climax would happen when he thought of being in her, looking into her eyes, unable and unwilling to look away or let any other thoughts intrude. she smiled. she burned for him in the same way.

he kissed her again and got up to go make something to eat. she followed him in a few moments and shooed him out of the kitchen. she threw this together and got that out and fixed him a meal fit for a king, which was fitting because he was the king of her heart and a gentle, kind and noble ruler he was. he thanked her for the sandwich and ate with gusto. he loved anything she made, from butter beans, squash and cornbread to desserts. she had a knack for cooking. he had a knack for eating. they were a good match.

"what time is church?", he asked. "same time as it always is", she replied. "oh, too early then" he grinned. they went to sleep in each others arms after saying prayers of thanks for good and bad times, for their lives and their love and all the ones who mattered. talk about a gift!!!

It Baffles Science! Archives

March 28, 2007

I Ain't No Glamour Boy

It always cracks me up when someone says "It must be glamorous to be a musician." Ya think? It's not like you get a per diem and pay for rehearsal and performances, guaranteed. When you're small time, you're not in the union. Well, some of us are but we take all these "scab" gigs for money, honey. I love that lingo. Guys without any compunction about taking a gig off the books and keeping all the dough refer to that same activity with derision. Ah, Hypocrisy. Ah, well, ya gotta eat.

Digressions aside, This is about specific incidences that cannot be misconstrued as fun, good times, happy days, "oh..that's got be a gas!", or anything possessing a scintilla of glamour. Where to start? How about my first gig in public ever on electric bass? 15 years old with a Univox copy of a Hofner (with a scroll headstock. tres` elegant!) and a Gretsch Pro Bass 50 watt amp, I accompanied our organist at my Church for an all singing, all dancing "praise the Lord" kinda dealy. So how was I kitted out at my debut? In a bathrobe with a towel around my head like Charlton Heston in the Ten Commandments when they are building the pyramids. That's Show Biz!

1201.jpgI got no problem with that because I've always been a ham and a song and dance man at heart, but it's just indicative of what awaits anyone that is a performer. There's this thing called "paying dues" that no one, talented or otherwise, can get out of doing over time. Like gravity. it sucks and every day too. So what's some dues paying, you ask? Hmmmm.....

Playing to an audience. Playing to no audience. Playing to indifferent audiences. Playing with indifferent musicians. Playing in a band with people who AREN'T musicians. Playing with musicians who are sure they know what the public wants and that they can deliver it, no problem. Playing with rock and roll musicians. (sorry, that was redundant, wasn't it?).

Driving. when you're tired. too much. way too fucking much. (Shall I mention that after all that driving, your gig could be cancelled and you not have been told?)

Toting, Lifting, All manner of sweaty work that artiste`s avoid by nature. Being nice to strangers. Giving of yourself, your time and your talent and not expecting anything in return and being pleasantly surprised when someone gets it. Oh, sorry, that is one of the reasons we do it. How did that get in there?

Anyway, you get it. It's work and it is a business. You get used to it after a while. I don't miss the assholes but I do miss the travel and the fellowship with the other outsiders. But glamorous?

There is the time a band I was in came in third place to 5 and 10 year olds dressed as teddy bears in a talent show. There was a picture in the paper with these kids that came up to our belt buckles in a line in front of us and our longish haired asses smiling behind. I remember playing to three people once in a Holiday Inn in Orangeburg, SC. Two of the people worked there. Then there was the time 4 guys had to shove me into a Ford Escort station wagon(oxymoron) because I didn't want to leave my bass guitar in an abandoned van on the side of the interstate. Did you know that if you are aware your alternator is bad that Saturday, when the shops are open, would be the time to address that problem.? Not on Sunday though, evidently.

I played in a bar called Thunder's Tavern in Passcagoula, MS one time. It had chicken wire in front of the bandstand, just like in the Blues Brothers movie. Not one fight broke out. I chalk that up to our suckitude. Oh well, two good tires can't make up for two flats.

I have been gobbed on and ignored. I prefer to be ignored in that situation.

Punk Rock and Contemporary Christian bands each have their own hells. Usually that involves achieving a specific emotional result without having the resources or acumen to make it work. God forbid you should work within your limitations and come up with something unique! Commercial Country is one place where you constantly meet people that can't swing from a rope but have a cush gig. You have to make peace with the fact that incompetents will be in charge in any business.

The world does not make sense, nor should it. If you can't rise above, then you will have to be happy at your level. Show Biz is one thing. Music is another. I always checked my hair but i never worried about it when the downbeat came.

Glamour that.

It Baffles Science! Archives

March 21, 2007

Head Bang Er (or Blitzkrieg Bop Babies)

Please welcome another new writer! It's another Richard and he's going to be writing about....stuff. Lots of stuff. Lots of music stuff, especially. This first post was one he submitted to us for a guest author shot and was originally published on his weblog. We liked it so much, we asked him to join the club full time. Of course he did. Because no one can resist the onsite moonshine still we offer at FTTW headquarters.

Been on another "J" kick this week. Johnny Ramone, a man who loomed large in my legend, has been pummeling the speakers around Jazz Bass Central. This guy, who was mocked and shortchanged his whole career, was a complete guitarist and an original stylist. Can you say that? Can any of us? Many of us? Natural elites aren't commonplace. Society needs firebrands with conviction in the arts and in commerce. I'm not talking about namby pamby neo-hippies like Joey Ramone, but about Leaders.

Sometimes, you have to make a decision, then you have to take action. If you know a few musicians, the really good ones are usually all business. if you know a few "rock musicians", you're aware that they think the sun shines out of their spotty behinds when they should be thinking "I need to practice more, I need to write more, I need to work on those chords, that solo, this progression. I should learn song forms and be aware of all the variations of the blues."
But usually you get "Why won't you do my protest song?", and "What do you mean the lyrics are obtuse? Man, it's a metaphor, Dude!" and "I know it's good. My girlfriend loves it."

What you got from The Ramones was tough rock and roll. Hard, fast and loud for a reason. I often think that 1974 was the last good year for old white hippie post beatles progressive heavy rock and roll music. it seems that by the time you get to 1976, you start to get diminishing returns on bang for your buck from radio and the record labels. Regardless of the era or the business climate, The Ramones albums are uncompromsing examples of integrity, hard work, belief in yourself, coming up with your own thing, embracing your limitations and making them your strengths and good old fashioned bedrock capitalism.

How many hippy dippy radical chic spouting rock and roll leg-ends stood up and did their own thing, dressed their own way, didn't take shit and cared deeply, deeply, deeply about making the music the best they possibly could? Not too many, because those kind of bands all had their noses so far up the Beatles' asses that they couldn't see with their eyes open. This is always the way with lesser talent. Someone that can't play but can write their own songs that have their own style are way ahead of some guy that can go "twiddledy twiddley" real fast but has no song vehicle to use that bullshit upon.

The truth is that because of Johnny, The Ramones were a unified force in the face of denial and exclusion and disinformation and ridicule by the record and radio industry for over 20 years. There is no reason that their wonderful hard rocking melodic music shouldn't have been played heavily on American radio except a shut out. In the future, will civilization tout the historical significance of Benny Mardones, Nick Gilder or Robbie Dupree? Will Fleetwood Mac and The Eagles and the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever be held up as benchmarks of late 20th century music or will a future citizen scratch his heads and go "Jeebus, what the hell were people thinking? I mean, I can see Joe Walsh now, he's great,and that "Disco Inferno" song is kinda cool but come on!!"?

We all need heros. We all need someone to face the fire for us. Right now, Western Civilization teeters on the brink of annihilation by people who believe it is ok for their holy book to advocate killing and beheading in the name of Allah. If the apocalypse has a soundtrack, I hope they use "Gimme Gimme Shock Treatment" or "Commando" or "Go Mental" or "I'm Against It" as our side kicks the shit out of the bad guys.

We need people that will be held in esteem and spoken well of after they pass. A success is someone who lives their life on their terms. What greater compliment than this, spoken by his friend and 5th Ramone, Arturo Vega:

We are immensely saddened by this terrible loss. Johnny contributed in many ways to the success and greatness of the Ramones. But it was his strength and guidance, which made everybody else’s work come to an effective completion, that made him the group’s center of gravity, providing the balance and stability that kept the band, its support crew, and the entire Ramones organization together and in rocking shape. Johnny’s strength came from his character, rich in decency and honesty. His sense of fairness and his strategies always pointed towards the benefit of the Ramones and their fans as an inseparable unit.In this moment of tragedy and darkness, let us find solace, and a cure to our pain, in the knowledge that Johnny accomplished to the limit his life’s aspirations, and in the process he made ours seem possible.HAIL JOHNNY RAMONE!


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