Richard Bacchus' Bicycle Diaries

Winged Madness

2010-10-29T15:32:00.001-04:00

I Just dug this our of my inbox. Totally insane

Amy Poehler's advice for girls at the Glamour awards

2009-11-10T16:03:00.002-05:00

glenn-beck-joker

2009-10-14T22:18:00.001-04:00

glenn-beck-joker
Originally uploaded by rottenart

When the questions gets tough, the "Tough" "Cut And Run"...

2009-07-04T03:05:00.002-04:00

Happy Free Alaska Day, You Betcha !

Happy Birthday To Me

2009-06-10T11:31:00.006-04:00

Still loving last years birthday present, Calypso the dog. She's grown up so nicely. I'm bringing her up to NYC to hang out with us on our early summer, northeast tour.

The first show is My birthday party at Bowery Electric

Somali Piracy

2009-04-16T00:34:00.001-04:00

Angry Angel

2009-02-15T05:28:00.001-05:00

Amid the commotion
Originally uploaded by _prachi_

Me sitting at the bar I make most of my living at. That's my Missus, Shelby at the Register behind the bar.

Daily Lethals 2008

2008-12-25T22:31:00.002-05:00

Adios Eartha Kitt. This Batman will miss his Catwoman eternally.

Terrible Love

2008-07-01T01:09:00.001-04:00

We Shot A video for Terrible Love my friends Luva, Bobby Times and Chris Powers added the additional talent. We Shot it at Slim's in Downtown Raleigh, North Carolina.

Happy Birthday to Me

2008-06-11T14:06:00.001-04:00

My Birthday was yesterday. Let's just say I passed a Milestone. I got a Puppy and Ukulele. I'm the Luckiest Boy

D Generation Reunion Pics

2008-04-20T23:24:00.001-04:00

IMG_2334
Originally uploaded by Randsom

All photos by Randy Haecker, and there's more where they came from at his Flickr.

Independent Weekly Review

2008-03-12T23:39:00.000-04:00

Richard Bacchus and Jesse Malin
Slim's
Thursday, March 6
12 MAR 2008 • by Thomas Costello

Going to see an old friend's band is a lot like watching him marry that girl you both used to hang out with, a sweet dose of nostalgia chased by a sour shot of watching someone else live a dream that's not your life anymore. Thursday night at Slim's, Jesse Malin and Richard Bacchus—known in the mid-'90s for spicing up punk with a glam-metal snear in New York's D Generation—watched one another's bands.

Malin and Bacchus took turns tapping feet for each other from the front row. D Generation had a major label run with some shout-along singles, but, since then, Malin has capitalized the most on that fame by putting a Ryan Adams twang on his alternative rock (Adams produced his first LP). He tells stories about girls and societal cast-offs and uses a Petty and Springsteen narrative template. The Boss even appeared on Malin's last LP. These days, though, Malin can make even New York City sound suburban, and Thursday—playing with a single backing pianist—he forced his songs deeper into lullaby territory. His lengthy set drew from his solo releases and "You Can Make Him Like You," a Hold Steady track from his forthcoming covers album.

Whereas Malin espoused the values of what he calls a "P.M.A." (positive mental attitude) between songs, it was clear from Bacchus' first note that, unlike his old bandmate, he's remained a rusty Mustang on the road of hard rock, even if he hangs his hat and straps on his guitar in Raleigh these days. Bacchus complimented Malin's set and then riffed through a handful of his own songs with his Luckiest Girls band, letting his solos do the slurred talking. Bacchus' structures and scales lack any real sense of adventure, but his good time uniformly becomes the crowd's good time. It's appropriate then that he invited Malin onstage to do what everyone was anticipating. Together, they treated the late-night crowd to some old D Gen hits and Reagan Youth's "Degenerated." Malin barked the anthems, dragging his mic stand into the dancing audience. Bacchus added his high-end punch.

Show over, the ex-bandmates pulled up adjacent barstools: Though they use divergent musical approaches these days, they still share the drive to keep rocking, to keep creating new memories about which they can reminisce in another 10 years. Click for the full post

Congratulations Slayer

2008-02-11T07:29:00.001-05:00

Tom Araya -"Trimspa Baby!"

Deepak Chopra: Morning Walk in NYC

2007-12-27T19:17:00.001-05:00

This morning in New York City
Walking to CNN
To comment on Christmas mania
Suddenly the veil parted
I saw
Ectoplasm navigating through
Traffic jams of thought bubbles
Snaking through streets around the exoskeleton
City Spires
The dry bare bones of collective psychosis
Cold and exposed in New York City
Amidst the reptiles of karma
The Devas have fled
The rancorous arguments
Of self righteousness abound
I don't feel human
A corpse illusion called deepak
Vanish this cosmos of stars
Put a nail in the sky
Bring it down to the streets of commerce
Bare bones and ectoplasm
Grasping, clinging
Emotions of hungry ghosts
Insatiable Consumers
Trafficking the exoskeleton
As Bhutto lies murdered in Pakistan
Deliriously happy
Grabbing toys, bubbles of thought
Ectoplasm, navigating the exoskeleton
City Spires
Arrived cold and exposed at CNN

Life in pictures: Benazir Bhutto

2007-12-27T16:05:00.001-05:00

Benazir Bhutto was part of a political dynasty. Here she is with India's foreign minister in 1972 in Simla, where her father, President Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, met India's Indira Gandhi.

Ms Bhutto in 1977, shortly after completing her education at Oxford University. Born in 1953 in the province of Sindh, she also attended Harvard.

Ms Bhutto was Pakistan's prime minister twice. The first term of office between 1988 and 1990 coincided with the latter years of UK PM Margaret Thatcher's rule.

During both her stints in power, the role of Ms Bhutto's husband, Asif Zardari, proved highly controversial as he was accused of stealing state funds - charges he denied.

Benazir Bhutto in 1991 during the rule of arch-rival Nawaz Sharif. She had been dismissed in 1990 on charges of corruption but was never tried.

Ms Bhutto was re-elected in 1993 and served as prime minister until 1996, again being dismissed for alleged corruption.

She remained in Pakistan until 1999 but then left to live abroad as questions remained about her and her husband's wealth.

Ms Bhutto lived in self-imposed exile after Pervez Musharraf assumed power in 1999. But she always planned to return - here meeting Nawaz Sharif in London in 2006.

Finally, in October 2007, she boarded a flight from Dubai to Pakistan to take on the presidency of General Musharraf.

Shortly after, she survived bomb attacks on her convoy in the southern city of Karachi that killed more than 100 people.

But Ms Bhutto said she would not be cowed and continued to campaign for the restoration of democracy and, some say, a third term as prime minister.

Richard Bacchus and Jesse Malin: Capital Offender

2007-11-19T18:05:00.001-05:00

Me and Jesse Rocking out D Gen Style at Schuba's in Chicago

Jesse Malin & Richard Bacchus: "Capital Offender"

Add to My Profile | More Videos

Phoot! Phoot! Peach!

2007-11-15T17:04:00.001-05:00

Wu-Tang Martial Arts Montage!

The RZA's Samples in their Movie Contexts,

“Nobody’s gonna call my dog a queer,”

2007-11-12T00:50:00.001-05:00

The author, as
pugnacious in person as in print, died.

The death of Norman Mailer at the age of 84 robs the
American literary world of an outrageous genius who wrote some of the
finest books of the 20th century while exhibiting a seemingly
insatiable taste for volcanic public provocation.

As a prolific
author who competed ferociously for the title of America’s Greatest
Living Writer, Mailer proved a formidable but frequently erratic
novelist and a brilliant but often self-indulgent journalist.

Yet
his literary exploits were repeatedly overshadowed by his tumultuous
private life. He feuded bitterly with fellow writers, he stabbed one of
his six wives, headbutted Gore Vidal, bit a chunk out of Rip Torn’s ear
and often declared that he couldn’t get started on a new book until
he’d had a good fistfight.

Mailer will be remembered as the
creator of masterpieces such as The Naked and the Dead, his searing
debut war novel based on his experiences fighting the Japanese in the
Philippines; and The Executioner’s Song, his Pulitzer Prize-winning
account of the execution of Gary Gilmore. He was also a radical
left-wing political activist who campaigned against the war in Vietnam
and once ran unsuccessfully for mayor of New York.

Yet
it was his gargantuan appetites for wine and women, and his
extraordinary talent for picking a fight, that lifted him from the
ranks of his mostly reclusive literary rivals and turned him into a New
York legend. It often seemed about Mailer that if there wasn’t a handy
world war to write about, he would try to start one himself.

The
stories of his macho posturing are legion, from the time he dismissed
America’s leading women writers as “fey, old hat, quaintsy and dykily
psychotic”, to the day he encountered a passing punk while walking his
poodles in Brooklyn.

According to Peter Manso’s biography of
Mailer, the punk incautiously suggested to the burly author that his
poodles were homosexual. “Nobody’s gonna call my dog a queer,” Mailer
exploded, before throwing himself at the punk and almost losing an eye
in the ensuing altercation.

He seems to have inherited his
belligerence at least in part from his revered mother, Fanny Schneider
Mailer, who once marched to his school and ordered his teacher to
change his C grade to an A because Norman wasn’t capable of mediocre
work.

When Mailer later attacked his second wife, Adele Morales,
after getting drunk at a party � he stabbed her with a penknife,
narrowly missing her heart � his mother stoutly defended her son’s
outburst on the grounds that he was not an ordinary man, and that
marriage to him was not for an ordinary woman. When Mailer won his
first Pulitzer for The Armies of The Night � a factual account of the
Vietnam protest movement � Fanny complained that he should have won the
Nobel. IN the course of a career that produced 40 books, Mailer was
both lionised for his natural, accessible prose and ridiculed for his
occasional excursions into mind-numbing fantasy. Harlot’s Ghost, his
1991 novel about the CIA, was rubbished in The Sunday Times as
“night-marishly bloated and entirely insubstantial . . . [it] seems the
appalling manifestation of a defunct talent”.

His most recent
novel, The Castle in the Forest, imagined Hitler as a bed-wetting
adolescent coopted by the Devil. The book outraged German and Jewish
critics, one of whom described it as “clumsy and embarrassing”. The
fuss provoked a characteristic response from Mailer, who showed that
even in his eighties he still relished a scrap. “What’s the point of
being a writer if you can’t irritate a great many people?”

To
another interviewer, he expressed himself differently: “One of the
advantages of getting old is, you really don’t give a f*** any more.
What are they going to do, come and kill me? Fine, make a martyr of me!
Make me immortal!”

Mailer was born to a Jewish family in Long
Branch, New Jersey in 1923. He was only 16 when he went to Harvard to
study aeronautical engineering. After he graduated he was drafted into
the army and sent to the South Pacific to fight the Japanese in 1943.

His
second world war experiences formed the basis of The Naked and the
Dead, a towering achievement that some critics argue he never
subsequently surpassed. Mailer often talked in his early years about
writing the Great American Novel � the one that would place him
definitively above rivals such as William Styron, Saul Bellow and John
Updike as the undisputed heavyweight champion of words.

If he
never quite convinced his critics of his own � and his mother’s � sense
of his worth, he had no trouble turning his life into a champion
display of excess. By the time he was 40, he had been married four
times, the third time to Lady Jeanne Campbell, the daughter of the Duke
of Argyll. He went through brief marriages with an actress and then a
singer before subsiding gently into a surprisingly calm union with his
sixth and last wife, Norris Church. He accumulated nine children in all.

In
later years, he enjoyed reminiscing about life in New York in the 1960s
and 1970s, when he failed to become the city’s mayor despite promising
to stage gladiator contests in Central Park. He would wander the
streets with Truman Capote, author of In Cold Blood, and get up to all
kinds of trouble. He once described being led by Capote to a club named
Corpse, which Mailer discovered to his horror had taken its name from a
cadaver displayed on a slab in the middle of the dance floor.

Mailer
screamed at Capote in disgust, but his diminutive companion shrugged,
“Oh Norman, don’t be angry, they change the body fresh every day.” It
turned out that the club had a deal with the city morgue.

Gore
has less happy memories of his encounters with Mailer. The two authors
were due to appear on a television chat show in 1971 when they got into
a fight as they waited to appear. Mailer headbutted Vidal, giving him a
serious nosebleed just as they went on air.

Little made Mailer
happier than to pick a fight with feminists, and in 1986 he excelled
himself by declaring at an international writers’ congress that “there
are more men who are deeply interested in intellectual matters than
women”.

Mailer came to be seen by the feminist movement as the
antichrist of chauvinist piggery, a reputation that seemed richly
deserved when the details of his marriage to Adele were laid bare in
her subsequent book. She described how he punched her in the stomach
when six months pregnant, how he urged her to take part in group sex
then flew into jealous rages and ended up stabbing her.

Yet
somehow Mailer managed to subside into a reasonably respectable old
age. He would complain of being “irked” when critics preferred his
journalism to his novels � “I think the novel is a higher form,” he
said. “An earl does not want to be called a count.”

As he entered
his sixties he told one interviewer that he knew he had a reputation
“as a wild man, a crazy man . . . I’m not saying it’s a bum rap, but
it’s an old rap. It’s certainly not true of the last 10 years”. WITH
Mailer’s death will inevitably follow a worldwide literary effort to
determine his true place among America’s literary giants. “When you’re
a serious writer, there is a natural tendency to think that you may be
the best,” he said this year.

Norman Mailer: subversive chronicler of the American dream

2007-11-10T18:15:00.001-05:00

One Of The Greatest American Voices Falls Silent.

10/11/2007

Norman Mailer
©AFP/Getty Images/File - Charlie Gallay

NEW YORK (AFP) - Norman Mailer, who reportedly died Saturday of
kidney failure, was a giant and "enfant terrible" of American
literature who provoked and inspired readers for more than a half a
century while chronicling post-WWII America.

When New York Times critic Michiko Kakutani said his memoir "The Spooky Art" was like "going on a very long bus rider over a very bumpy road, sitting next to a garrulous raconteur who never takes a nap and never pauses for breath," he retaliated by calling her a "kamikaze" and a "twofer" in the Times quest for equal opportunity.

He once sat on Truman Capote (and also praised him, though not without dismissal: "He is tart as a grand aunt," Mailer wrote of Capote, "but in his way he is a ballsy little guy"); he invited William Styron to fisticuffs; he did punch Gore Vidal and accused Vidal, quite accurately, of unmanning Jack Kerouac. (It was not Vidal's fault that both Kerouac's work and masculinity were of such flimsy construction.)

In the 60s, he was both a short-lived mayoral candidate and a proponent of the idea that New York City should secede to become a 51st State. Neither idea caught fire and New York City has since been overrun by America.

A prodigious writer, Mailer's work spanned nearly six decades with his
last book "The Castle in the Forest" appearing just a few months ago.

But it was his first novel "The Naked and the Dead" which was to carve out
Mailer's towering reputation in the literary world when it soared to
the top of the New York Times best-seller list shortly after being
published in 1948.

Almost overnight the Harvard University graduate and World War II veteran
became a literary star, even though he was just 25 years old.

The book was based on his experiences serving in the Pacific during the war,
and depicted a platoon of US soldiers fighting and dying on the
Japanese-controlled Pacific island of Onopopei.

"A man who went to a famous prep school in the early '20s said afterward,
'It was the worst experience of my life and the most valuable.' I can
say the same about my time in the US Army," Mailer said in 2005.

Over the decades, Mailer penned more than 40 works with diverse styles and
themes, including the haunting novel "An American Dream" in 1965.

He achieved the rare honor of being awarded the Pulitzer Prize twice --
once for "The Armies of the Night" (1968), which also won the National
Book Award, and then again for "The Executioner's Song" (1979), an
account of the life and death of Utah murderer Gary Gilmore which was
later turned into a movie starring Tommy Lee Jones.

Norman Mailer (R) and David Ulin
©AFP/Getty Images/File - Charley Gallay

"Rereading the bulk of my work ... one theme came to predominate,"
Mailer reflected in an imposing anthology published in May 1998, when
he marked half a century as a writer.

"It was apparent that most of my writing was about America.
How much I loved my country -- that was evident -- and how much I didn't love it at all,"
he said in anthology "The Time of our Time."

"Our noble ideal of democracy was forever being traduced, sullied,
exploited, and downgraded through a non-stop reflexive patriotism. And
every decade our great land lay open more and more to all the ravages
of greed."

A poet, director, occasional film actor, even a New York City mayoral
candidate in 1969, Mailer loved to mix literary genres -- as he did in his
fictionalized "biography" of screen legend Marilyn Monroe.

Throughout his career Mailer was fascinated with fame and celebrity,
writing books about Pablo Picasso, Muhammad Ali and Kennedy assassin
Lee Harvey Oswald. In 1997 he published "The Gospel According to the Son,"
a novel narrated by Jesus Christ.

A co-founder of the leftist newspaper
the Village Voice in the mid-1950s, Mailer spent his most life giving
vent to his rage. He was jailed several times during the early 1960s
for brawling, and again in 1967 for protesting the US role in Vietnam.

He captured the rebellious spirit of the 1960s in "The Armies of the
Night," a highly personalized, novel-like account of a peace march in
Washington.

The biographer, reporter and author of
anti-establishment and political work championed along with Truman
Capote the genre of "creative non-fiction" and his work was hailed as a
prime example of "new journalism."

Norman Mailer
©AFP/Getty Images/File - Charley Gallay

Mailer's other works of journalism include "A Fire on the Moon," about the Apollo 11 lunar mission.

But Mailer was never far from controversy, and he angered many feminists for his portrayal of women.

His 1971 essay "The Prisoner of Sex" was his bilious response to the
emerging women's liberation movement, and prominent feminist Kate
Millet once labeled him "the ultimate male chauvinist pig."

His 1973 biography of Monroe also ran into criticism after he suggested
that she had been murdered by the FBI and the CIA over her supposed
affair with Robert F. Kennedy.

Married six times and the father of nine children, Mailer once said in an NBC television
interview that he was worried "women are going to take over the world."

"There's a real possibility in my mind ... that 100 years from now, there will
be 100 men left on Earth, and the women will have it all to
themselves," he said.

Born in Long Branch, New Jersey on January 31, 1923, Mailer entered
Harvard University at age 16. Shortly after graduating with an engineering
degree in 1943, he served in the Philippines with the 12th Armored Cavalry
regiment from Texas.

Time did not dull his prodigious talent or his razor-sharp tongue.

Late in life Mailer dismissed modern architecture as "a disgrace" and "a
disaster." "America's gotten much uglier in the last 25 years," he told
NBC television.

Sir David Attenborough: The Truth About Climate Change

2007-11-07T04:02:00.001-05:00

Tiny Masters Of Today

2007-10-26T19:49:00.001-04:00

MySpace.com - Tiny Masters of Today

What has Four arms, two heads and 120 pounds of Pure Punk Rock Muscle?

PLANNED PARENTHOOD'S FIGHT IN AURORA

2007-10-06T00:49:00.001-04:00

Ugly scene a loss for women

By Sara Paretsky
September 30, 2007

My grandmother watched her father die when an anti-Jewish mob broke into their small home and shot him as he lay in bed with his wife. The mob was jubilant and exuberant at his death; their neighborhood priest in Vilnius, Lithuania, led the crowd through the streets chanting a Te Deum to show their thanks to the Lord at the death of someone they considered a nonbeliever.

Most members of that crowd called themselves Christians. I think of them when I look at the mob in Aurora that is trying to keep the Planned Parenthood health center there from opening.

I have been working around these protesters and their associates for 20 years, trying to help women get through their ranks into clinics for medical appointments. On a recent stint at an obstetrics-gynecology health center under siege on the North Side of Chicago, I was trying to escort a woman with ovarian cancer through the horde so she could see her doctor.

Part of the crowd surrounded us, chanting "Christ killers!" and "Baby killers!" Briefly, I felt the fear my grandmother must have known.

The police were watching the demonstrators block the clinic but doing nothing to remove them from the entrance. After five minutes, they came to help the cancer patient escape her harassers and return to her car -- weeping and trembling. There was no way she was going to get essential medical care that day.

After the police left, one of the protesters said to me, "I suppose since you think it's OK to kill a fetus you agree that it's OK if I kill you."

This is ugly language, but no more hate-filled than the rest of the words and deeds of those angry people who want to keep women from getting reproductive health care.

Why are we allowing such mobs to decide who gets medical care in Aurora, or anywhere else in America? Never mind that polls show Planned Parenthood is the most trusted provider of health care in America. The zealots surrounding the Planned Parenthood health center in Aurora have actually cowed the Aurora City Council into demanding a review of the city's permit-granting process. A spokeswoman from the mayor's office has said that a review of this kind has never been done before.

The foes of reproductive rights are concocting a story about Planned Parenthood operating deceptively because the group built the health center in the name of one of its wholly owned subsidiaries. Planned Parenthood did this because every time it tries to build a new facility, its opponents try to keep women from essential health care.

Four years ago in Austin, Texas, zealots intimidated Browning Construction into breaking a contract to build a new facility. The Planned Parenthood building was finished ultimately by contractors from out-of-state. A Colorado right-to-life group has just announced that it will use these same tactics to try to keep a new Planned Parenthood facility in Denver from opening.

According to the Aurora paper, the Beacon News, Aurora officials -- including the mayor -- agree that they knew as early as February that Planned Parenthood was likely building a health center in their town.

It was only when this mob descended on their town that they decided to act outside their normal protocols in approving this health center for opening.

Illinois ranks 42nd in the nation in helping women avoid unintended pregnancies, according to the Guttmacher Institute, which provides research and education on sexual and reproductive health. The institute says only 29 percent of our state's "women in need" were provided "publicly supported family planning services" by clinics -- and these are the women who need Planned Parenthood for safe, affordable care.

Aurora, with more than 276,000 residents, is the fastest-growing city in Illinois; but it has very few places where women can go for quality, affordable reproductive health care. The women of Aurora and surrounding Kane, DuPage, Kendall and Will Counties have been calling their new health center for appointments for the last six weeks.

Isn't it time we turned our back on the mob and let women get the health care they need?

----------

Chicago writer Sara Paretsky most recently wrote a book of essays titled "Writing in an Age of Silence" (Verso, 2007).

Daily Lethals: Dean Johnson

2007-10-04T15:33:00.001-04:00

The details are sketchy, Dean was found dead in Washington DC earlier this week. See you In the Great Rock And Roll Fag Bar in the sky Brother.

This is a vid of Dean & The Weenies perfoming at the Limelight in NYC.

Richard Bacchus & The Lucklest Girls; Jet Black & Beautiful

2007-10-03T17:07:00.001-04:00

Our New album Jet Black and Beautiful is now available on iTunes and eMusic.

Co-Starring Sami Yaffa (New York Dolls, Hanoi Rocks, Mad Juana)on Knobs, Bass, Bongos and Zucchini, Frank Ferrer (Guns N'Roses, Psychedelic Furs)on Drums. Christine Smith (Jesse Malin, Ryan Adams), On Vox and Keys, The Other Mad Juanic Street Preacher, Karmen Guy, Hoots and Hollers along with Elvie the Doberman, Plus a Rowdy rogues gallery Friends and fellow Criminals.

-Jet Black Richard Bacchus

MySpace Secret Shows Blog: Review: Flyleaf

2007-10-02T22:36:00.000-04:00

MySpace Secret Shows Blog: Review: Flyleaf + Richard Bacchus & The Luckiest Girls

North Carolina wants the Troops Home

2007-10-01T15:32:00.001-04:00

newsobserver.com | Majority in N.C. disapprove of war, want troops home
67 percent support a timetable to withdraw some U.S. troops from
Iraq by the beginning of 2009, and 64 percent said that they would
support a timetable to withdraw some troops by the summer of 2008.

-
About 50 percent said the war with Iraq was not worth fighting, with 53
percent saying the United States should no longer be in Iraq.

Daily Lethals, Alex the parrot

2007-09-10T23:29:00.001-04:00

Alex the African grey parrot, famed for his role in cognition research conducted by psychologist Irene Pepperberg, dies at the age of 31. Alex learned elements of the English language to identify shapes, colors and sizes, shattering the notion that parrots are merely mimics.

I hope that there are 'showers' and 'grapes' in heaven, Alex

The Bad Brains on Hilly Kristal

2007-08-30T16:20:00.000-04:00

"The Brains didn't go to college... CBGB's was our university. Hilly was our head master. And although the music died back in the 50's with Holly and Richie...the punk lives with Hilly, Joey, Stiv and CB's. Forever is the spirit of Hilly and his punk rock. Thanks Hilly, we will all ways remember you as the don of punk and the king of the bowery...that serious looking nice guy....Jah lives... the Bad Brains."

CBGB Founder, Hilly Kristal Dies at Age 75

2007-08-29T15:17:00.000-04:00

CBGB Founder, Hilly Kristal Dies at Age 75

Hilly was a father to so many of us whacky punk rockers.
We'll all miss him very, very much. Thanks for everything Hilly.

A private memorial service is planned. A public memorial will be held
at a later date. Contributions in Hilly's honor may be made in his name to
the American Cancer Society or to the Hilly Kristal Foundation for
Musicians and Artists (168 Second Avenue, PMB 207, New York, NY 10003).

Christy!

2007-08-28T17:17:00.001-04:00

My Bud, Christy Newman (Formerly Ms. Simpson), singing backup for Super Sexy Canadian, Feist

Christy's the last one on the right. She knows a thing or two about Sexy Canadians

Hipster Olympics

2007-08-26T11:35:00.001-04:00

Brilliant thank you P0YPAC

Harsh Mistress

2007-08-20T17:24:00.001-04:00

I love how this clip starts with a hearty 'FUCK YOU" from Charleston SC's Leslie (The band, not the girl or the speaker)

Can a Skyscraper have a soul?

2007-07-19T13:36:00.001-04:00

Why the heck does New York have steam pipes, anyway?

The reason that's interesting, at least to me, is that this is a prime example of what's known as combined heat and power generation.
It's an old idea, but one that's making a resurgence as bills for all
our petroleum-dependent energy sources--heating oil, natural gas and
electricity--continue to climb. As we all know, the easiest way to
"generate" more energy per dollar spent is simply to conserve.

You might also wonder, as I did, why the heck these pipes are pressurized even in the middle of July--clearly the steam isn't being piped into radiators. Here it turns out that an additional cleverness has been introduced into the system: buildings in the financial district use the steam to power the compressors that run their massive air conditioning units.

The whole thing is rather brilliant--a model of re-use and smart urban planning--that is until disaster strikes. Apparently there have been lethal steam pipe explosions before, the most recent in 1989 in Gramercy Park.

-Christopher Mims, Scientific American

Daily Lethals: Isabella Blow

2007-07-18T14:30:00.001-04:00

An infant brother drowned in the family pool. A husband who ran
off with a lesbian. A louche grandfather destroyed by scandal. Under
those outrageous hats, fashion icon Isabella Blowhid many tragedies.
But she saved the greatest till last ...

Isabella Blow: Eccentric to the end | the Daily Mail

Kazi Nazrul Islam:Bidrohi(The Rebel) 1922

2007-06-13T22:45:00.001-04:00

This is a poem by the poet laureate of Bangladesh.
I can't get over how Rock & Roll his words are.
It's Like Sabbath meets T Rex meets The Clash.

Proclaim Hero
Proclaim: My head is held towering
Bows down the Himalayan peak, that at looking.
Say Hero-
Say: Tearing the firmament of the universe
Outstripping the Moon, the Sun and the Stars
Piercing the Earth and the celestial spheres
Penetrating through the Almighty's sacred throne
Risen have I, the wonder eternal of the God's universe.
With the mark of majestic might
The angry God on my forehead blazing bright!
Say Hero-
Say: My head is held ever towering!

I am irrepressible, imperious and brutal
I am the dancing lord of the great upheaval.
I am the cyclone, the devastation tremendous
I am terrible fear and the curse of the universe
I am turbulent, I crash everything

Wild I am, I trample under my feet all rules and binding
I obey no law, but mine
I cause the loaded boats to capsize
I am torpedo, I am the dreadful floating mine.
I am the God Dhurjati-
The ill timed hair disheveled typhoon of disaster,
I am The Rebel the rebellious son of the global mother.

Say Hero-
Ever towering is my head!

I am the hurricane, I am the whirlwind
I smash everything on my path and leave behind.
I am the dance-insane rhythm
I dance on, with my own beat
I am the heart liberated wit.
I am the different musical modes
I rock, I roll, on move I startleI whistle and swing on sharp notes.

I do whatever this mind wants whenever
I embrace the enemy and fight the death as a warrior.
I am pestilence, the global terror
I am the death of the dictator
I am warm and restless forever.

Say Hero-
Ever high is my head!

I am wine intoxicating
The glass of my heart is ever filled
With the wine sparkling.
I am the flame of the sacrificial fire
I am the God of fire, who keeps it burning.
I am the sacrifice, I am the priest, I am the fire.
I am creation, I am devastation
I am habitation, I am the ground of cremation.

I am the son of Indrani - the queen of the heaven
The Moon on my arm and the Sun on my forehead have risen.
In one hand of mine is the flute tender
The war bugle I hold in the other.

I am the Black-throated
Having the poison churned up from the weeping sea
I am the lord Bomkesh
I hold the bridle of the Ganges-stream with me.

Say Hero-
Ever towering is my head!

I am a saint, a soldier of music
I am the prince in disguise
With the dress of a hermit-mystic.
I am a Bedouin, a Chengis the brute
It is none, but me, I salute.

I am thunder
From the God 'Iswan's pipe, I am the mystic 'Omker'
Alas! from the bugle of 'Israfil', I am the roar danger.
I am Bishyamitra's disciple, Durbasha the furious
I am the fury of forest fire
I will burn to ashes this universe.
I am the heart opening laughter
I am the great anti-creation terror
I am the Eclipse of the twelve Suns of the final disaster.

Seldom I am quiet
Seldom restless and wild, I am the blood-youth
I snatch the God's pride.
I am the breath of typhoon, the ocean's roaring rave
I am radiant and flashing
I am the murmur of stream, the swing of music of the wave.

I am the unbraided hair of a virgin
The flame of her arresting gaze
I am the tender heart's love of a lotus sixteen.
I am the unconcerned mind of the indifferent
I am the sigh in the widow's heart, rending constant.
I am the accumulated anguish of all the homeless sufferers
The agony of the humiliated hearts

I am the bitter sorrows of the estranged lovers.
I am the distressed cry of a heart rending
I am the first touch of a virgin trembling
I am the heart throb of a passionate kiss stolen
I am the secret lady-love's glance twinkle
Her bashful sidelong look

I am the love of a maiden fickle
Her bracelet's sweet jingle.
I am the eternal child, the everlasting youth
I am the scarf of a village maid, afraid of her budding youth.
I am the Northern breeze

From the Malabar range the mode 'Purabi' unconcern
I am the deep notes from a bamboo flute of a poet pedestrian.
I am the great summer thirst, I am the blazing Sun's furies
I am the murmuring desert spring-
I am the chiaroscuro of an oasis.
I rush forth as a crazy with bursting laughter
Oh! I know myself today, all the barriers are broken forever.

I am the rise, I am the fall, I am the consciousness in the soul unconscious
I am the triumphal flag of humanity, over the arch of the universe.
I rush like the clapping storm, holding the heaven and earth in hands
The flying horse and the horse of 'Indra'-the King God are my mounts
I am the volcano in the bosom of earth, the submarine fire
The fire of the universal annihilation

I am the under-earth drunk on tumultuous sea of fire.
Riding on the lightning, I fly with the joy profound
I instill panic and cause sudden earthquake in the world around.
I catch hold the hood of 'Basuki' the snake-king
I clasp the heavenly angel Gabriel's fiery wing.
I am a heavenly child, I am restless, I am impudent
I tear with my teeth the Mother-earth's garment.

I am the flute of Orpheus
I cause the heaving sea sleepy
With a kiss of sleep, I send the world in drowse.
I am in bondage of the tune of flute
I am the God Krishna's flute.
When I fly across the space with great anger
The trembling seventh hell, extinguishes in fear
I carry the revolt in the world all over.

I am the monsoon rain-flood of erosion
Sometime I fill the earth with adoration
Sometime I cause the awful destruction.
I will snatch the twin girls
From the bosom of God 'Vishnu' who sustains the creation.

I am injustice, I am meteor, I am the Saturn
I am the burning Comet, the venomous hood of annihilation.
I am the goddess 'Chandi' with the severed head
I am the war-loving cause of the dead.
Sitting in the hell of fire
I smile the smile of a flower.

I am earthly, I am spiritual
I am ageless, undecaying and immortal.
I am the terror of men, Gods and monsters
I am the invincible power of this universe.
I am the lord of the lords, 'Vishnu' the Supreme Being.
Frantically I move around the heaven the hades and the earth churning.

I am mad, I am mad !!!
I now know myself and all my shackles and constraints have evaporated !!

I am the battleaxe of God 'Parshuram'
I shall exterminate the warriors
And bring the noble peace to this universe.
I am the plough on the shoulders of 'Balaram'
I shall uproot the subject-world with ease
In the new creation of joy and peace.
I the Great Rebel, shall be quiet on that day
When the oppressed people's wail on the sky and air will not resound
The tyrant's dreadful sword will not flash on the battle ground
I, the Rebel, tired of battle, shall be quiet on that day.

I am a Rebel 'Vrigu'-
I mark my footprint on the chest of the creator God
I shall cut open the heart of the grief inflicting whimsical lord.
I am the Hero, Rebel – eternal -
Rose above the universe alone
My head is ever Monumental

War and Censorship at Wilton High

2007-06-12T21:04:00.001-04:00

Posted on Jun 12, 2007

By Amy Goodman

Last Sunday night, as millions of Americans tuned in to the two Tonys—the final episode of “The Sopranos,” to see whether Tony Soprano lived or died, and the Tony Awards, celebrating the best in American theater—actor Stanley Tucci (who played “Nigel” in “The Devil Wears Prada") was in an off-Broadway theater, the Culture Project, watching high-school students perform a play about war.

The production, “Voices in Conflict,” moved the audience to tears, ending with a standing ovation for the teenage actors, still reeling from a controversy that had propelled them onto the New York stage. Their high-school principal had banned the play.

Bonnie Dickinson has been teaching theater at Wilton High School in Connecticut for 13 years. She and her students developed the idea of a play about Iraq, initially inspired by the Sept. 3, 2006, death of Wilton High graduate Nicholas Madaras from an IED (improvised explosive device) blast in Baqubah, Iraq. The play uses real testimonials from soldiers, from their letters, blogs and taped interviews, and Yvonne Latty’s book “In Conflict,” with the students acting the roles. The voices of Iraqis are also included.

In mid-March, after students spent months preparing the play, the school administration canceled it. Superintendent Gary Richards wrote: “The student performers directly acting the part of the soldiers ... turns powerful material into a dramatic format that borders on being sensational and inappropriate. We would like to work with the students to complete a script that fully addresses our concerns.” (The students have modified the script; they perform Richards’ letter, its cold, condescending bureaucratese in stark relief with the play’s passionate eyewitness testimonials.)

The story struck a chord with Tucci. He was already producing a video piece about his high-school alma mater, John Jay High School in Cross River, N.Y., where high-school girls were suspended for performing an excerpt of Eve Ensler’s play “The Vagina Monologues.” Their crime: uttering the word “vagina” after being warned not to.

Following the performance of “Voices in Conflict,” Tucci participated in a public conversation with the student actors, noting that “Cross River and Wilton are only 15 miles apart. There’s obviously something in the water.”

After The New York Times published an article on the Wilton High censorship scandal, Ira Levin, the author of “The Stepford Wives,” wrote the paper a letter: “Wilton, Conn., where I lived in the 1960s, was the inspiration for Stepford, the fictional town I later wrote about in ‘The Stepford Wives.’ I’m not surprised ... that Wilton High School has a Stepford principal. Not all the Wilton High students have been Stepfordized. The ones who created and rehearsed the banished play ‘Voices in Conflict’ are obviously thoughtful young people with minds of their own.”

Wilton High School principal Timothy Canty was quoted in The New York Times article saying that the play might “hurt Wilton families ‘who had lost loved ones or who had individuals serving as we speak,’ and that there was not enough classroom and rehearsal time to ensure it would provide ‘a legitimate instructional experience for our students.’”

I asked the student actors about their opportunities to discuss the war at school. Jimmy Presson, 16 years old, said his U.S.-history class has a weekly assignment to bring in a current-event news item, with one caveat: “We are not allowed to talk about the war while discussing current events.” The students said that they can discuss the war in a Middle Eastern studies class, but, they said, it is not being taught this year. “Theater Arts II was the only class in the school where students were discussing the war,” Dickinson said. Jimmy added, “We also get to speak about it with the military recruiters who are always at school.”

Following Sunday’s production, Allan Buchman, Culture Project’s artistic director, summed up, “What we saw tonight was the reason to have a theater.”

With the evening winding down, the kids were already talking about their next performance, this one at the famed Public Theater, another prominent New York institution, which will be attended by some of the soldiers the student actors play. Jimmy said: “It means a lot that we can share their stories. We got word from India, Japan ... and even Iowa.” The audience laughed. It was getting late. As the students packed up to head home to Connecticut, they wondered if they would ever be allowed to perform the play where it all began, at Wilton High.

Amy Goodman is the host of “Democracy Now!,” a daily international TV/radio news hour airing on 500 stations in North America.

© 2007 Amy Goodman

Distributed by King Features Syndicate

When Luckiest Girls Attack

2007-06-05T20:57:00.001-04:00

Model Gisele slams church, asks "who's a virgin?"

Reuters.com

Icky Thump - The White Stripes

2007-05-25T12:09:00.001-04:00

This is so great I can't even stand it.

Stoned cop calls 911 fearing overdose on pot

2007-05-11T18:45:00.001-04:00

Stoned cop calls 911 fearing overdose on pot

Stoned cop calls 911 fearing overdose on pot Police officer Edward Sanchez of Dearborn, Michigan made some pot brownies with his wife and got so paranoid that he called 911 for fear they were dying. The recording of the 911 call is absolutely insane. From a transcript:

 

Sanchez:I think I'm having an overdose. and so is my wife.

911: Overdose of what?

Sanchez: Marijuana...

Sanchez: We made brownies. and I think we're dead. I really do...

Sanchez: Time is going by really, really, really slow...

Sanchez: What's the score in the Red Wings game?

911: I've got no clue, i don't watch the Red Wings.

Sanchez: I just wanted to make sure this isn't some kind of hallucination I'm having.

Link to an MP3 of the call

Happy May Day Everybody

2007-05-01T19:05:00.001-04:00

We are immigrants, not criminals, not terrorists!
Originally uploaded by eecue.

Have You Ever Seen The Weavers?

2007-04-26T22:11:00.000-04:00

80's hardcore band, Naked Raygun have a great lyric in their song Home Of The Brave, " We live in a country, that persecuted The Weavers. Have you ever seen The Weavers?

Norman Lear: Pete Seeger: a True American Hero

I met Pete Seeger almost a year ago after seeing an early copy of the film, Pete Seeger: The Power of Song. Wishing to be helpful to the film, I drove up to Beacon, NY to meet Pete and his wife Toshi at their log cabin house they built by hand almost 50 years ago.

Richard Bacchus & The Luckiest Girls Cinco De Mayo Fiesta

2007-04-26T14:41:00.001-04:00

Saturday May 5th 2007
Lit Lounge
93 2nd Ave.,
East Village
New York, NY 10003
Tel 212-777-7987

Richard Bacchus & The Luckiest Girls 11PM
Mad Juana 10PM
Wintersounds 9PM
DJ Reverend Timmy James, All Nite
$6 Cover, 21+

Richard crawled away from the Lower East Side with a head full of stitches
and a busted acoustic guitar.
Somehow he ended up in Raleigh NC, where he fell in with a Tattoo Biker Club
that played Rock N' Roll, called The Luckiest Girls.

Richard Bacchus & The Luckiest Girls are headed back to the Black Leather
Bosom of Madhattan and this time it's personal. He's gonna find that dude that Split his head open, and that other dude that stole his busted acoustic guitar and...

HE'S GONNA MAKE EM PAY!.

They'll be playing Punk Rock & Roll songs from Richard's upcoming solo album plus some Classics from his 70/90's Gutter Punk band D Generation.

Richard Bacchus and the Luckiest Girls mix the sparkle and boogie of T. Rex with the sleazy street wise sneer of the New York Dolls and top it off with a healthy dose of angst-ridden punk pop in the vein of the Buzzcocks and the Pixies. Bacchus' tunes remind one of the concise rock n' roll narratives of Chuck Berry's Maybelline or Memphis, TN set within a vivid "Mean Streets" environment worthy of the best of Gansta Rap (Nas, Biggie, Wu-Tang) ; a demi-monde populated by beautiful losers, hustlers with hearts of gold and all manner of angels or demons, now flightless from flying too close to the sun.

Onstage they erupt with a rollicking joie de vivre in almost flagrant flouting of the often darkly poignant subject matter. Informed by every rock record from Howlin' Wolf to Wolfmother, they seem to say "we're all stuck down here together, so let's have a good time."

-Tim Hower -Our Daily Ghost

Richard's Solo album "Jet Black & Beautiful", coming out this summer features guest appearances by Sami Yaffa (New York Dolls, Hanoi Rocks, Joan Jett) Frank Ferrer (Guns N'Roses, Psychedelic Furs) Christine Smith (Jesse Malin, Ryan Adams) and a Rowdy rogues gallery Friends and fellow Criminals.

Fucking Everyone

2007-04-20T18:21:00.000-04:00

I got seriously intimate with Slim's Downtown Distillery last night. We're talkin' toe to toe, nipple to nipple, belly button to... You get the picture. We had us a good olde, juicy, dry humping good time.

Muchos Gracias' to Robbin' n' Stealin' Theivin' Bill Eagen, Fomer Yerosmith and Yourney Singer Joe Yerry, Deadly 7th Samurai Master Yo-Jimbo, Sylvester Spallone and his Red Invaders, Missus Flashy Underpants Shelby B, Fearless Nazi Killer Dave Horowitz, and Everyones favourite Tumble Down Preacher The Right Reverend Timmy James.

Extra Special Thanks to Big Boned Lord Vader, Tracy Morgan and Jenna Haze for the Guest Appearances.

Luckiest Debut

2007-03-08T10:01:00.000-05:00

This will be the first show with my full backing band, The Luckiest Girls, Featuring Joe Yerry (Bleeding Hearts) Jimbo (Bleeding Hearts) and Bill Eagen (Leadfoot).
We'll be playing songs from my upcoming solo album and some Classics from my 90's Glam/Gutter Punk band D Generation.

The Solo album "Jet Black & Beautiful", coming out this summer features guest appearances by Captain Sami Yaffa (New York Dolls, Hanoi Rocks, Joan Jett) Frank Ferrer (Guns N'Roses, Psychedelic Furs) Christine Smith (Jesse Malin, Ryan Adams) and a Rowdy rogues gallery Friends and fellow Criminals.

Also Appearing at the show,
My Punk Rock baby brothers, Boston Rock and Roll Saviors: RED INVASION
Satanic Preacher and architect of Bluegrass destruction: REVEREND TIMMY JAMES

He Lies, They Die

2007-02-24T15:38:00.001-05:00

Bullshit: it's not just for grown ups any more

Message to the Children of the U.S. Military

A message from President Bush to the children of the U.S. Military.

I'm sure all the Little 'Folks' with Moms and Dads 'Stuck' in Iraq really appreciate him taking the time out to drop them a 'Line'

Motherfucking Folks

2007-02-24T15:05:00.000-05:00

I can't stand the term "Folks". It's just so fucking patronizing, get it? PATRONizing.
Fuck Motherfuckers and their motherfucking "FOLKS", Use that term around me and your gonna' get an earful.

Is it even a fucking word?

"That's All Folks"
(Grumbling sounds of failed attempts at World domination)

Rosewood Purfling Yum!

2007-02-03T22:48:00.001-05:00

Top 10ish Wooden Gadgets Gallery

from Gizmodo

Sadly, no wooden underpants, lots of other stuff for you and your hot wooden fetish.

Watch out for splinters.

Wood is a timeless construction medium that will be around long after silver/white/black finishes are things of the past. So why don't we see more wood in electronics? I used to think it was for durability, but if you hadn't noticed, current build materials are crap. No gadget is meant to last, let alone avoid scratches and be around long enough for a refinishing. Maybe wood reminds that man's collective experience with his favorite gadget is a fleeting one; maybe the trees are laughing at us.

So enjoy this gallery of wooden tech - some of it beautiful, some of it tacky, some of it reminding us of boners.

DAMN!

Me Fail English? That's Unpossible

2007-02-02T15:28:00.001-05:00

Some book statistics

The following statistics about book publishing and reading were found on www.parapub.com, the Web site of self-publishing guru Dan Poynter. They'll give you an idea of what you're up against if you want to write books for a living.

1/3 of high school graduates never read another book for the rest of their lives.

42 percent of college graduates never read another book after college.

80 percent of U.S. families did not buy or read a book last year.

70 percent of U.S. adults have not been in a bookstore in the last five years.

57 percent of new books are not read to completion.

70 percent of books published do not earn back their advance.

70 percent of the books published do not make a profit.

(Source: Jerold Jenkins, www.JenkinsGroupInc.com)

53 percent read fiction, 43 percent read nonfiction. The favorite fiction category is mystery and suspence, at 19 percent.

55 percent of fiction is bought by women, 45 percent by men.

(Source: Publishers Weekly)

About 120,000 books are published each year in the U.S.

(Source: www.bookwire.com)

A successful fiction book sells 5,000 copies.

A successful nonfiction book sells 7,500 copies.

(Source: Authors Guild, www.authorsguild.org)

Fred Eaglesmith

2007-01-21T11:05:00.001-05:00

If your not a fan of Confederate Hockey maybe you'll find Canadian Bluegrass a bit more palatable.

Fred Eaglesmith Official Site

Fred played at the strangely conspicuous Hideaway BBQ in Raleigh, last night.
Great songs, great jokes, a great worldview and an unbelievable mandolin player.
The whole band was amazing. Definitely worth checking out.

Robert Anton Wilson Signs Off

2007-01-15T17:57:00.000-05:00

“I don’t see how to take death seriously. I look forward without dogmatic optimism, but without dread. I love you all and I deeply implore you to keep the lasagna flying.”

Long may he kick out the JAMMs

Best Of 2006

2006-12-19T16:41:00.000-05:00

In no particular order, this past year I've found myself having my fancy tickled by the following pop stars. Sugar, sugar, honey, honey and Happy Festivus to all.

The Subways

Death Breath

Mickey Avalon

Babyshambles

Richard Hawley

Lily Allen

Christine Smith

Amy Winehouse

MC PCP

The Arctic Monkeys

Eagles Of Death Metal

Compression's Got A Hold Of Me...

2006-11-30T18:38:00.001-05:00

I'm in the process of mixing My album with Sami. Said process is becoming fairly nightmarish, at the moment, being that Sami and I are in different cities in different states.

I just came upon this piece in the Christian Science Monitor and it's all I can do not start tearing my hair out.

Mixing is a tedious process at best and to think that all our hard work will most likely end up being compressed to hell and pumped through a pair of "Buds" makes me ever so slightly nuts.

WAH!WAH! Woe is Me. Ok now where does that fucking snare drum go in the verses.

"You spend a long time training your ears and striving to perfect your craft and put out a better product," says Jeff Willens, an audio-restoration specialist at Vidipax in Long Island City, N.Y. "When you finally discover that these things are being listened to on cellphones and through pea-size earphones, it's kind of disheartening."

Mr. Willens cites a technological evolution with a serious hiccup. "For the past 100 years or so ... every new format that came along was an improvement over the previous one," from 78s to vinyl to tape and high-grade cassettes, he says.

After CDs arrived and files became digitally encoded, he explains, there was a push to make files small and still "fairly listenable." The technology used to create MP3s - "lossy" compression - strips away what might be viewed as "unnecessary audio information," he says - information that can, in fact, contribute to richness.

"So MP3 is," he says, "one of the first times where a newer format is of poorer quality than the one that came before it."

Thousands of songs in your pocket: An audiophile's nightmare?

You Might Be A Nazi If...

2006-11-30T10:51:00.001-05:00

Cyber-Hero R.U. Sirius begs the question

Is It Fascism Yet?

"Not quite", is the answer, I hope.

Ghost Boy Whispers

2006-11-29T18:49:00.001-05:00

Some Atheist wisdom from Sam Harris

Why Are Atheists So Angry? Jewcy.com

Buy Nothing Day

2006-11-21T08:36:00.001-05:00

November 24th, AKA the 'Black Friday, The Day After Thanksgiving' is international 'Buy Nothing Day. Brought to you by the fine anti-consumerists at Adbusters.

So this Friday I encourage you all to put your feet up, kick that tryptophan buzz into high gear with a couple of turkey/tofurky sandwiches, the size of your head and give your overburdened credit cards a well deserved break. Those bargains aren't going anywhere, I promise.

Geez More Daily Lethals: Sputnik Monroe

2006-11-18T20:50:00.001-05:00

50's Pioneer Memphis Wrestler and civil rights hero Sputnik Monroe passes at the age of 77

The self described man of "Twisted Steel and Sex Appeal" also coined the phrase "I'll jump in the air and shit in your hair", in case you were wondering.

From NPR:

"By the time he came to Memphis, Monroe had already earned his Cold-War era moniker. One woman, enraged that the wrestler walked into a match with his arm around an African-American teen-ager, called him every name in the book, and then, after deciding he was no better than a communist, called him the worst thing she could think of: Sputnik."

Read more here

From Smokebox.net:

When Sputnik Monroe arrived in Memphis in 1957, by way of Mobile, Alabama,
he immediately ran into trouble with the police. His favorite hang-out
was the black neighborhood around Beale Street, and that made him the
target for the local gendarmes. In those days, there was a vagrancy law
entitled "Mopery and Attempted Gawk." Sputnik could mope and gawk with
the best of them.

Read the rest of this article

Ciao Ruth Brown XXX

2006-11-18T14:17:00.001-05:00

Singer Ruth Brown dies at age 78

One of the pioneering rhythm and blues singers, Ruth Brown, has died aged 78.
She was a major influence on My band D Generation

"Mama, He Treats Your Daughter Mean" is arguably
one of the most important songs in Rock and Roll.

Run Run, Run Run, Runaway...

2006-11-17T02:56:00.001-05:00

I'm sad to learn of the passing of Sandy West, drummer for The Runaways.

Jetter, Blacker, More Beautiful

2006-11-12T01:12:00.000-05:00

Iconic 60's adman George Lois has a new book about Muhammad Ali
Check it out
Ciao Amis

Ricardo the Notorious JBP

Deja View

2006-11-08T16:14:00.000-05:00

From Wonkette.com

How twisted is this country? An Iran-Contra crook and ex-CIA chief is immediately greeted as a sane, grown-up yet “fresh” replacement for the delusional old Donald Rumsfeld.

Even more fun, Gates’ nemisis Daniel Ortega was elected president of Nicaragua on Monday. You may remember Ortega as the Sandinista leader who fought off the Contras in a long bloody “civil war” in large part engineered by … Oliver North, William Casey and deputy CIA director Robert M. Gates, among others. North, a convicted felon and official fall guy for Iran-Contra, was in Nicaragua last week campaigning against Ortega.

History doesn’t just repeat itself; it repeats itself with the same exact people.

Gatesgate - Robert M. Gates, nominee to head CIA [National Review]

Jet Black and Beautiful

2006-10-18T17:29:00.000-04:00

Raven's Flight,
originally uploaded by Elinay.

The tentative title to the album I'm working on

Prince Of St. Marks King Of Olde Bowery

2006-10-11T02:24:00.000-04:00

I had a very vague idea that he had it in him.
I never expected to so pretty.

Joe Rizzo has said it best, once and for all.

Heavens be blessed for Joe Rizzo.

Here's what I'm talking about:

Well folks, this is it - the final lap. CBGB's last
weekend of rock before all the urinals and all the
band stickers are shipped off to Las Vegas for other
people to pee in and lean greasy shoulders upon. It's
all part of the current American Zeitgeist when
bug-infested establishments can be stylistically
replicated for public consumption - a simulacrum of
street credibility for a new group of consumers, no
longer found in the nervy East Coast urban setting -
now transplanted west, with the cacti, the dust, the
air conditioned mega foyer and the community of other
decorated sheds catering to gambling and shopping.

But enough of this dark gothic patter!

I'm here to hype the gig:

Walter Lure and the Waldos are playing CB's
on Saturday 10/14 at 10pm!!!
(thanks to Adny S.)!

See one of the last real Heartbreakers rock the joint,
as only a real Heartbreaker can.

If we're lucky, maybe Lenny Kaye will jump up with us
and try "Gloria" again, just like Charlie Brown going
after the football (the Waldos are the only band on
the planet who aren't skilled enough to play "Gloria"
- and considering that "Gloria" is up there with
"Louie Louie" as the first song any nascent band is
able to play, it's not saying much for us. But, the
truth can be harsh.)

After this show, Waldo will be donating the tie and
the bowler hat to the Smithsonian for their new
"Please Kill Me" exhibit.

So, come on down to CB's one last time. Don't be put
off by the fact that you've never had enough "pull" or
"juice" to get in for free (no one has), or by the
fact that you've never hung out enough to get a free
drink there (no one has). Make a point to come on
down because, once CB's wraps up, that's it, my
friends.

And (I beg anyone still listening) after the CB's show
go to the Continental at 3rd Ave and St Mark's Place
and buy a few rounds. The juke box is one of the best
I've ever heard. Tell the guy with the crazy hat that
Joe Rizzo sent you.

- Screamin' Joe Rizzo (My Pal)

Terrible Jinx

2006-08-08T04:33:00.000-04:00

Gosh! It seems that one of thine enemies, of which I thought I had but a scant few, has unleashed an awful curse upon me. I have found myself to be well and truly Jinxed. I write this in hopes that committing some of the dastardly events to ether will weaken some of the hoodoo's sting.

I first sensed something was amiss when we were blind sided returning from Edenton Bay on the Pamlico Sound. A great golden schooner came out of nowhere, spinning my little skiff from stem around to stern, nearly rending us in two. Poor Dolly the dog nearly went over the side, First mate Shelby was nearly inconsolable. Not surprising seeing that Dolly the dog swims about as well as a stone in syrup.

The Captain of said schooner claimed to be taken by a mysterious rogue tailwind, very strange indeed.

The next day I set out on my own for New York. I'd no sooner lost site of land when my compass set to dancing about. Luckily I was on the well sailed trade route of I95, I tied off onto Freightliner and alighted to my chamber. Once in Madhattan, I put word out to Captain Sami Yaffa that I was up to my plimsoll in his beloved Jaffa cakes, then set out to brokering some smuggling work. I shortly got myself a run of contraband picking up on Rutgers slip and ditching at the Little Red Lighthouse. No sooner than I'd dropped the booty, my rudder snaps clean off. If not for the kindness Of the passing Red Weasel and her captain, Danny Ray, I'd be run aground right then and there.

We're Here, We're Weird, Get Used to Us.

2006-04-05T19:13:00.000-04:00

Well I've gone and done it, moved into the Heart Of Darkness, Raleigh North Carolina.

It really is fucking dark out here, Shelby went out for a fag last night and couldn't find her way back the back door of the house.

Dolly the dog thinks this is an extremely elaborate practical joke. I found her trying the get the car out of the driveway yesterday, asking the neighbours "which way Manhattan? me miss Skycraper". Stupid Dog.

Interview

2006-02-03T04:39:00.000-05:00

The Following is a transcript of an interview I just did with Cheshire Von Lux, over at MySpace.
If you have a MySpace account, click the title above to leave comments.

RB: "Here you Go Monsieur Von Luxx I had a lot of fun with it." Thanks, Richard! CVL

CVL: Whoaâ€”Sorry for the VERY overdue questions. I just started a new job, blah blahâ€¦no time, yaddaâ€¦anyway. So, it was good to meet you a month or so ago. How do you like Northampton?

RB: Very Cute town, I opened up for Jesse Malin at the Iron Horse Music Hall which was a new experience for me, Rock And Roll Dinner Theatre. After every song it was like "can you please open this ketchup bottle for me" "are you sure you don't want a bite of this grilled chicken sandwich? it's so yummy." They were a really wonderful audience.

After My set, Dana Ong gave me a literal whirlwind tour of the Town, I don't think our feet touched the ground. I remember talking to you while trying to snort a Cosmopolitan and gulp down a big fat line of Cremora.

CVL: Oh I'm glad you liked it. You should come back. You mentioned you did a tour just by making contacts on MySpace? Gimme some details about how that went. Would be nice to offer tips/ideas so others can do that, too.

RB: That went really well, though My Dog didn't enjoy it as much as my Wife and Preacher did. We just went for it with no expectations. We had the most fun in the least expected places and the biggest disappointments when we tried the hardest. I guess the best tips I can pass on would be, in the words of the great Aleister Crowley "Do what thou wilt" and in the words of Derek Smalls "Have a good time, all the time". If you're ever in Juarez Mexico, send my love to the Supercobra's and tell them they can keep the cowboy hat.

CVL: Excellent name - supercobras. So, I realized that I donâ€™t have enough sex advice in my blog. Itâ€™s seriously lacking. So, where should we startâ€¦I think rock stars, like baseball players, fuck better than the average human. True? If so, what are your tricks of the trade? Yeah thatâ€™s personalâ€¦so what.

RB: I've been called an 'orgy of one'. You can never have too many props and accessories, you always wanna' keep em' guessing and on the edge of their seats. You must be completely fearless when it comes to pleasuring people, and you can never be too hairless.

CVL: Oh, God, I like 'em hairy. Ah to each their own. An orgy of one, I love that. Whatâ€™s your favorite part of the world? I have yet to explore the whole worldâ€¦Iâ€™m thinking Iâ€™d like Scandinavia.

RB: My friends are getting pretty tired of my threatening to move to Berlin, Germany. To me it seems like a very "possible" city, the way New York was before Adolph Giuliani.

Scandinavia is crawling with junkies which means the speed is really cheap.

You really can't beat Spain, and Mallorca rules.

I love Japan. One of the best things I ever did was Tour the whole country on the Shinkansen (Bullet Train, Duh?) with Murphy's Law. My name in Japanese is Denki Samurai. We played everywhere, places that no western band would ever go. I'm huge Japanophile and I got made fun of a lot.

CVL: Scandinavia has junkies!?! But are they still hot? What have you been listening to lately?

RB: The Organ from Vancouver, Canada. The singer is my newest Crush, she sounds like Debby Harry with Morrissey's phrasing. Their Guitar player is really hot as well.

CVL: Favorite thrash bandâ€¦I miss that eraâ€¦Iâ€™ve been ODing on Sepultura circa Maxâ€¦reliving that stuff has been much needed lately.

RB: Me and my pal Jack Flanagan walked into Max's crib in Phoenix, AZ - we walked out to the pool and popped the cooler. It was chock full of BUD Light. Jack and I were like " What the fuck is up with this unleaded shit?" Max phreaked, he was like "Wow! I've never heard it called that, that's fuckin' genius" and we were like "seriously, what the fuck is up, with this UNLEADED SHIT?".

CVL: Poor Max. Iâ€™m feeling invasive today. Gimme some more sex tipsâ€¦

RB: Explore your inner monkey, I'm a Koala with a Chimpanzee rising. Oh wait, koalas aren't monkeys.
I guess you should explore your inner marsupial as well.

CVL: Sorry, I'm just a pig. Whatâ€™s next for youâ€¦new recordings? Tours?

RB: No tour on the books at the moment. I'm working on getting into the studio with Sami Yaffa from Hanoi Rocks on Bass and Frank "THUNDERCHUCKER" Ferrer from Honkey Toast and the Psychedelic Furs on Drums.

CVL: Well, just come back to Northampton. Are you only a musician? Or do you have other creative outlets/jobs/career aspirations?

RB: Endless aspirations, I've done just about everything just shy of major surgery and murder. I had a $3 hit man syndicate for a while, we specialized in celebrity hits. A $3 Hit is when you call someone the wrong name intentionally. For instance, one time one of my crew walked up to David Bowie and said "What's Up? your David Berry". Bowie was all like "You mean David Bowie?", to which My boy replied "No, Your David Berry, BITCH". Mission accomplished, $3 hit completed, Ka'Ching. Now where's my money at?

I'm up for anything, mostly illegal shit, piracy etc. I'm pretty good at turning a fast buck, what do you have in mind?

CVL: I have many $3 hits for you to do. What do you get for a $5 hit? Do you have any collaborations with other artists in the works?

RB: Nope, nothing it's all about me at the moment, trying to hone my Skillz

CVL: Name dropâ€¦who should we know about/listen to/read/watch?

RB: Read Freck and The Elixir by Rudy Rucker. It's my new Bible. It's like Lewis Carroll meets Albert Einstein a thousand years from now.

CVL: So, if youâ€™re so inspired, we can make this a two-part interviewâ€¦you can ask me a bunch of questions, and Iâ€™ll write backâ€¦and Iâ€™ll post that, tooâ€¦I gotta get back to work. Sorry for the delay! Iâ€™ll post this once I get yr answers back. See you soon. CVL

RB: Bring It. Thanks a lot for the fun Questions

I Love My Label

2006-01-31T11:19:00.000-05:00

I just nicked this information and explanation of the likely origins of the pirate flag, the Jolly Roger, off of libcom.org

There have been a number of different explanations of the origin of the most famous of the piratesâ€™ flags: the â€˜skull and cross bonesâ€™, which was first used around the year 1700.

In the book Socialism For Beginners, Anna Paczuska declared that, despite piratesâ€™ flags being predominantly black, the term Jolly Roger was a perversion of the French jolie rouge (red and beautiful). This may have some basis in fact as the navy flag signal for mutiny was a red flag, and mutinies were often followed by the mutinous crew seizing the ship and becoming pirates themselves. Some early pirates were also said to have flown a solid red flag.

Fearsome: the skull and crossbones emblem of the pirates
The Jolly Roger flown by the Atlantic pirates in the Golden Age of piracy, however, was black and either showed a skeleton or a skull and bones. 18th century Atlantic historian Marcus Rediker provides a more convincing explanation of its origin.

The flying of the Jolly Roger was a part of the psychological war waged by the pirate band and was designed to strike terror into the hearts of those who saw it. The skull and crossed bones device was commonly used by a shipâ€™s captain in his log, as a sign that a seaman had lost his life on voyage. As such it would be a universally recognised symbol of death. The colour of the flag indicated â€˜no quarterâ€™ and ordered the victims not to resist. Finally, Rediker argues that the name is taken from 18th century slang for sex (as in â€˜a good rogeringâ€™). Quite simply, if the captain of a fat merchantman were to look out, and see through his telescope the Jolly Roger flying, then he could be sure that he was well and truly fucked.

One Billion Little Feces

2006-01-18T10:03:00.000-05:00

Everything you read on this blog is One Billion percent factual only the names, volumes and dimensions have been enhanced for your enjoyment.

recent developements, the LES Ghost Boy Club House, Mickey's Blue Room, has been purchased by an evil multinational corporation, leveled and replaced by a seventeen screen multiplex movie theater that apparently doesn't serve tequila or queso.

I can't help but feel that My days in the firm and cozy, black leather bosom of Madhatten are numbered.

Thanks for the Black Leather Mammaries.

I'm gonna make like the Lemon Kid head out to the high country.

Catch you on the flipside

I'll see you all on Oprah

Liquid Ghost Tour Pics on Flickr

2005-12-31T02:09:00.000-05:00

Thanks Reverend Timmy

Ok, Ok, Don't Push Us When We're Hot!

2005-12-30T14:08:00.000-05:00

Awright, awright already. Enough people got on my case last night about not blogging the rest of the tour. I'm truely sorry, I'll get to it I promise.

Last night, in case you were wondering, I played up in Northampton MA. at The Iron Horse Music Hall. I had a fantastic time, met loads of great new people. The crowd was so raptly attentive that I kept forgeting where I was. I kept on sitting down and feelling around the sofa for the TV remote. At one point I think I may have made a trip to the fridge for a soda. Not for nothin' it was an amazing show, if I do say myself.

Peace Out!

All Hail Emperor Cassius

2005-11-18T21:05:00.000-05:00

S is for Super Serpiente

2005-11-17T09:02:00.000-05:00

Dragged our Tequila soaked carcasses across the great sea of Texas, all the way to El Paso. The Lovely Princess Marina greeted us at the gates of the Deadly T Lounge. She never spoke a word, just gave us one of those "follow Me" winks, hopped on her PT Cruiser and took off like a bat out of Austin. We followed her, out into the desert for about 20 leagues or so, to her abode, La Casa De Los Dead Race Horses, out by the intersection of Secretariat and Man-O-War Blvd. La Casa is a cute little Adobe structure, decievingly tiny on the outside, gigantic on the inside, a trick of the desert light and peyote I believe. La Casa also has a 24 hour dentist named Paul on staff. Hot and cold ether is plumbed right in to the place.

After a short repose and a heavy nitrous binge en La Casa, we returned to the T Lounge. Hotsy Totsy Hostess con la Mostess, Crystal, had just got done laying out the massive Tequila buffet that makes the place so infamous. Without delay we wrestled The Rev. Tim on to the stage to prevent him from bogarting the entire buffet. He minced an whined so much, all through his set that Crystal brought him the consolation size, extra grande, Makers Mark Whiskey bucket.

Touring musicians are a a superstitious lot. I can't believe I am committing this to HTML, but I must. The Sweet Black Grievious Angel is haunted, there, I said it. The Angel is haunted by the ghost of a small dog, a yorkie to be specific, named Cassius Clay. Cassius a mischeivious little spirit, he inhabited our air conditioning unit for a day or so, yesterday he drained our gasoline tank and then rolled us into a 99 Cent fuel station.

I blasted through My set of Shanties, only mildly inhibited by the Tequila buffet. Afterward The Last Vegas from Chicago played a decidedly amphetamine tinged set. They took no prisoners and left us crying for more.

Out of nowhere the entire club was shanghaied by a gang of wild Mexicans from Juarez. The Tequila Buffet was consumed in 3 seconds flat. I walked up to the largest brute and demanded that he identify himself. He gave me one of those "Have Precision Bass, Will travel" glares and layed me out cold. The Gang called themselves The Super Cobras and are apparently the toast of all of Mexico. I must admit that their haircuts alone got my panties all in a knot. I most fine bunch of snakes, I do declare.

VIVA LA NAFTA POR VIDA!

Austin Texas, Uber Alles

2005-11-16T20:48:00.000-05:00

The wind finally came up late in the afternoon, I hustled up the nacho addled crew and set off to the downtown Austin Texas, Heavy Metal, Tiki Bar know as Headhunters. The Bar was manned by a great hulk of a Headhunter, Luney from the Oklahomo's. After some negotiation we established a deal, the major points came out to about three songs to each bottle of tequila and all the Lone Stars we could carry upon our persons. This particular deal turned out to be especially advantageous to Dolly the Dog, what with her being so four legged and low to the ground and all,

The place was Jumping, due mainly to the heavily Scandanavian Jukebox, I had no idea that the Norwegian Curse of Tubojugend had made it this deep into the south lands. Along with the sexually ambiguous biker types, the place was crawling with pink fuzzy hats, one of which became my very own, for an entire verse and chorus of "Pugnacious", I think it was the "Hold me close to you, Pull me deep inside" part. Those Turbojugenders really know how to dance.

I must say muchas muchas gracias to the beautiful ZombieKat and her Kittens, we are all in her debt a billion times over. Such kindness, generosity and more importantly patience has never been witnessed by any among our crew. Please tell Poppa AlleyKat, Allen to take good care of all the gorgeous guitars and thank him for letting us noodle on them. Tell Brandon to hustle up a fake moustache, get some boots, a hat and some flashy glasses and come out and stunt double for the Reverend, We're dying to work the chair smashing back into our act. Dolly says thanks for all the balls, and sorry to the kitty's, for creeping them out

Ever Rolling Gayley Forward

2005-11-15T12:54:00.000-05:00

Stuck in the doldrums of Austin Texas, nothing but flat seas and league after league of Tex-Mex and Bar-B-Que Restaurants. Dolly the Dog has gained about a stone. The Local tequila is tearing the Grievous Crew asunder.

The lovely ZombieKat and her faithful sidekick the Gill Man have graciously set us up with lodgings. Thank heavens, The G.S.B. Angel is rife with moths and is taking on water like a Buffalo. Two of my good Nudie suits have been completely consumed. I stopped by the Hank Williams Museum in Montgomery, AL to try and get over the heartbreakof it all, this proved to be a huge mistake and ended up with a police escort to the City limits. I apologize for any inconvenience I may have inflicted upon the Williams family.

Tonight we're going to play at Headhunter's in Downtown Austin, Then it's off to El Paso to bask in all things Lee Trevino.

Johnny Cashius Clay

2005-11-09T13:17:00.000-05:00

Here I am channeling all of my heroes at once a the Star bar in Atlanta Georgia.

Timmy and I opened up for fellow NYC Nightcrawlers, The Heroin Sheiks.

After the show We all shot over to the Clermont Lounge where Missus Bacchus dropped over a G on some top quality, barely stepped on, Suicide Girl ass. Money well spent indeed.

Carolina Mon Amour

2005-11-08T12:17:00.000-05:00

The Milestone in Charlotte, North Carolina is glorious, dirty hole in the wall dive, right off of Route 85. We call it Ghost Boy Clubhouse South. Just imagine a southern fried C.B.G.B. without dopey Hilly Krystal. Words can't really do this place justice so here's some Pictures.

This is the sign that greets you as you walk in the door.
A little further in you'll find more signs.

If you look closely at the Jesus banner, it says "Jesus F'n Loves You".
Hell F'n Yes He does!

An Atheist Reverend preaches to the Choir.

Do Not Feed the Merch Girl.
If your ever in the Charlotte area, definitely drop in and spend some time with Andy and his crack team of Maniacs at The Legendary Milestone. With the Artist discount PBRs are 75Â¢ a piece.

Goin' back to Raleigh

2005-11-06T11:19:00.000-05:00

Slim's Downtown in Raleigh, NC is the greatest club since the Boogaloo in Highgate. I walk in the door and they're blasting Jesse Malin, New York Dolls, Hanoi Rocks and just about every other band that Cap'n Sami Yaffa's ever set sail with. It's pretty safe to say we we're in our element. They even had a crumpet dispenser in the men's room, well they tasted like crumpets, a little on the chewy side though. Joey and Jimbo are officially Honorary Ghost Boys.

Local Hero, Johnny Fontaine AKA The Ghost Of Saturday Night got us into the mood with his obscenity peppered ballads about love and lust and freezing your ass off. Rev. Tim skipped his usual fiery sermon and regaled us with a treatise on all thing nanorobotical, I had know idea that biotechnology had this whole sexy side to it.

I hit the stage around a quarter to twelve with my mind swimming with the images of giant, naked, bestockinged, cybernetic, fembots and launched into a rousing version of "Pugnacious".
I'm quite proud to say that the new "wave your guns in the air, wave em' like you just don't care" section of "Capital Offender" is pretty much near perfection.

After the show about eight different people came up to me and said "remember the last time you were here, we were all throwing rocks at cars?". What was wrong with me back then, so much misdirected anger. I'll tell you what I do remember, the short haired girl at the Foxy Lady, with the awesome symbol shaved into her pubes. I'm not gonna tell you what the symbol was, your gonna' hafta' use your imagination girls

Daily Lethals, China Mana

2005-11-05T08:13:00.000-05:00

China Mana from Shonen Knife was killed yesterday. Her van flipped on I-95, en route to New York from Baltimore. China was out on tour with her band DMQB, the rest of the band is hospitalized.

China was a very cool girl. I'm saddend and sobered by her loss.

I guess you can't be too careful out here on tour. My heart goes out to her friends and family. I hope the rest of the band do OK.

How You Gonna' Baltimore?

2005-11-01T09:37:00.001-05:00

We rolled into the storied port of Baltimore Maryland, nosed around until we found the vessel of our compatriot Captain Rudi Jakkpot. Captain Rudi's ship is the Infamous "Stikky Finger", dreaded and revered all around the globe.

Cap'n Rudi informed us that he had secured us a venue to ply our songs and stories, as per our request. Much to our dismay it turned out said venue was a bakery, not a saloon as per our specifications. We all searched the premises high and low and found neither tequila nor ale, at which point Dolly the Dog started howling mournfully. Big Mean Mary, one of the bakery staff came bursting out of the back room, covered in flour and wielding a vicious looking pie slicing knife. Once we'd informed her of our intentions she kindly pointed us in the direction of distiller, just around the corner.

The Dangerously Delicious Pie Shoppe specializes in dangerous fruit pies, all delicious, some more dangerous than others. The sweet potato pie I'm told can be quite menacing if not treated respectfully. The proprietor and inventor of Dangerous Pies is a hulking mass of a baker named Big Mean Rod, who aside from being big and mean has the voice of angel.

Thanks are in order to Stephen, Kim, Mary, Al Wildcat and Jeff from DC and his whole posse.

After the show we set off to see our pal Al The Wildcat do a Rockabilly set over at the Full Moon Saloon. At one point I managed to sneak Al's hollow body off him and belted out a decidedly Rockaboogie version of "Why Don't You Go". The bass player was perfect but the drummer had a tough time with some of the dirgier parts of the song. Tis' forgivable, the song is practically a funeral march.

After that, things got blurry, Shelby gave out dating advice to some of the younger local pirates. Reverend Timmy took up a collection for his Atheist Temple. Cap'n Fuckin' Rudi got into it with his boy, Wedge over a girl or possibly a sandwich. I crawled into the bottom of a sleeping bag and waited for the boat to stop spinning.

The next day we dragged our asses over to an inn called The Motel 6, once quartered we sealed up the windows and slept for what felt like days.

Rudi and Al called to tell us that they'd secured us another engagement at a sideshow called Frazier's. We hadn't realized that it was All Hallows Eve and the Freak show was in town. We negotiated set times with the Fiji man, set up our sound system and set about entrancing the ghouls. Reverend Timmy played some old Voodoo spirituals, Al The Wildcat and I performed a fairly convincing version of the Late Great Gene Vincent's "Hold Me, Hug Me, Rock Me". Our ribaldry was rudely interrupted at one point by a gang of roving dodgeballers. Luckily for us, Dolly the Dog is somewhat of a dodgeball ace and quickly sent the gang dodging and screaming into night.

South Street Ghost Boys

2005-10-29T11:59:00.000-04:00

The Liquid Ghost Party of Richard, Rev. Timmy, Shelby and Dolly the dog, set sail aboard their ship, The Grievous Black Angel, without much fanfare, on Friday, October 28, 2005.

The first show of the tour was in Philadelphia, at The Grape Street Tavern. Our dear friend Princess Missy has provided shelter for our entire party, at her Palace on the south side, right under the freeway. The show was a great success, due in part to $1 apiece Yuengling ales, and the attendance of the ever enchanting Kim Montenegro and her band of Thieves. Thanks to My Brother and Sister In laws Ari and Jen, for bringing their whole posse out.

The after show party at The Jinx Clothing Co. down on South St. quickly degenerated into an orgy of booze, cheese steaks and Tattoed Moms. In other word it was exactly our kind of fun.

The next morning we were treated to an enormous breakfast of whisky and pancakes, lovingly prepared by Princess Missy's minions, Jimmy and Tia the Little Fat Lard. After gorging ourselves silly we set out for Outlaw Seamstress Kim Montenegro's House Of Submission where the Wicked Seamtress whipped us up new outfits for the tour, replete with all the pouches, pockets, and zippers we require to parlay our savage business. I must say Shelby's outfit is especially fetching, as is the Reverend's. I do so hope this doesn't prove too distracting as our voyage progresses. I must stay abreast of my duties.

Bring It!

2005-10-27T23:54:00.000-04:00

Testing...testing... 1,2,3... Is this thing on?

Awright Boogie Children, we're off on an another sortie. We're calling this voyage The Liquid Ghost Tour. This time out the stakes are way fucking higher than they've ever been before. This time we head in to the Heart of Darkness, the very guts of this Fair United States.

The Ship's yet to be christened and the crew is as green as Mount Mauna Loa. Just Myself and a couple of the fairer looking Ghost Boys. This is the leanest crew I've ever set sail with. As Chaplain we have The Reverend Timmy James, fresh out of the seminary. As first mate We have the Fair Missus Shelby Bacchus. We've also taken on a Belly Warmer named Dolly The Dog who'll also take on Mess Hall duties, should they ever arise.

Onward we sail to the Great City Of Philadephia

Live To Win!

2005-10-13T14:01:00.000-04:00

My Personal Clergyman, The Reverend Timmy James turned 29 on Tuesday. In Celebration of his last year as a Ghost Boy (mandatory beat out at 30, just like Menudo) we set out for the Turbonegro, Early Man fight at Webster Hall. Early Man were beaten savagely, mainly due to there replacing their former sexiness and courage, with a second guitarist and a bass player, sheesh. Fists of dynamite my eye, seriously, fuck you when your talking to me, until you go back to being a two piece. Check out the Early Man CD though, it'll snap your head clean off.

Turbonegro came on like lions and went out like pizza gourged tigers. The Reverend was moved to tears by Herr Hanks sermon about NYC being the Big Apple and Oslo Norway being the Little Apple, just like God and Jesus Christ. I later pointed out that Gucci and Prada would have been a much better analogy and got myself a nice, solid punch in the face, from a very hopped up Reverend. The Reverend is now a fervent disciple of the Ass Cobra and is not to be messed with. Fuck him, we'll be beating his ass out of the Ghost Boys in less than 12 months, Yay! Sweet Beatings.

Woke up Wednesday morning to a very grumpy Missus Bacchus and the news that I'll be lodging a Canadian on my sofa over the weekend. My Buddy, Steve Singh's suite at The Four Seasons won't be ready till Tuesday and he gets in Sunday. Steve is coming into town to play The Acoustapocalypse Folk Fesival in East Greenwich Village, on Tuesday Night, 14 "Performers" (including Me and The Reverend) , no cash, gallons of Tequila and beer, You do the math.

Once I eased Mrs. Shelby Bacchus into the concept of sharing her abode with a filthy Canadian, I packed up and set out to host my weekly Hurricane Katrina benefit. I host gathering in the basement Tiki Bar at Niagara, on Avenue A, for a bunch of displaced French Quarter musicians, it is incredible fun. Last night's instrumentation was Upright Bass, Resonator Guitar, Accordion, Paintbrush, Sousaphone, Saxophone, Washboard, Screwdriver, Tom Tom, Electric Guitar, Electric Piano and Ukulele. Let's just say the Joint was jumping and if that doesn't win, What Does?

Be My Bianchi Now, Uh Oh Oh Oh!

2005-10-04T14:49:00.000-04:00

The namesake Bianchi bicycle that inspired this blogs title has been stolen. I still have my trusty Cannondale, Whitey to get me around this heartless slab of granite we call Madhatten,

Baby Bianchi where ever you are, with your chrome heart gleaming, Long May You Roll.

Love Forever

2005-08-06T15:16:00.000-04:00

I just posted a new demo here. The song was inspired by one of my heroes, Marti Wilkerson. Marti is responsible for most of the photographs you see of my old band D Generation. The title Love Forever is a reference to Marti's Nom de Plume with Blacklips Performance Cult.

The lyrics on the track are wrong,
here's the real ones:

Love Forever

I wanna go to your party
I wanna go to your Show
I wanna drive around the city in a taxi
With a degenerated girl
A degenerated girl

I wanna Ride Your Pony
I wanna Hush Your Mouth
I wanna pimp and drink and hustle
With a degenerated girl
A degenerated girl

I wanna D-G-E-N girl
I need a D-G-E-N girl
Gimme a D-G-E-N girl
I want a fine degenerated girl

So take me out to your ball game
Take me out to the show
Take me out of this city on a stretcher
with my sweet degenerated girl
my degenerated girl

Chorus

Words and Music Â©Richard Bacchus 2005

Lords of The New Shirts

2005-08-05T14:38:00.001-04:00

I've just got some new Girls T Shirt Colours. It's amazing how this design has become an instant classic.

These colors are in girls sizes, I also have Black with White ink in Guys Large and Medium. All the Shiirts are Extra High quality American Apparel 100% Cotton Tees, they all run a little small. Email me if you want one. Shirts are $12 including postage. I also have The Bicycle Diaries CD for $5

"I did shit last night"

2005-08-05T02:47:00.000-04:00

"I fucked around as well", those are the first two lines from my song "Pugnacious", sadly (or not) they are completly true statements. It's like, a billion degrees farenheit in Alphabet City tonight and my guitar is still in the stifling bowels of Niagara, where I played a show last night with Kish, Dave Bason and girl that goes by the name, The Last Chance Choir. Dave sang about conscription as tourism, Megan/Last Chance Choir thrashed her lapsteel and sang about love and Brooklyn, Kish and I made rude barnyard sounds and drank way too much tequila (thanks Epick). It was a blaring seance of a rockshow with really loud air conditioners.

I've fallen off the Blog train. I could blame it on the heat but I'd be lying. New York can be so distracting, occasionally in a good way.

I've been playing loads, almost too much, but not quite. Saturday I played at the release party for the live at Continental CD. It was awesome sharing the bill with Cheetah Chrome from the Dead Boys, Handsome Dick From the Dictators, Walter Lure from the Heartbreakers and my pals Shige, Takto and EZ from the Hip Nips. Everybody was amazing. Michael Wildwood even got up and did a song. I had a great time playing solo to a sold out room full of drunk as fuck Punks and Skins, we even got a singsong going on "Capital Offender". The only downer was thinking about how many people weren't there, Joey Ramone was very noticably absent.

The Boston show was a blast it was great hanging with Malibu Lou. Timmy and I opened up for this awsome band called The Dents, they're playing in New York on Saturday August 5th at Sine with The F-Units who are great as well.

Vive Le Tour

2005-07-07T11:37:00.000-04:00

How can it be the "Bicycle Diaries" and not mention my Obsession De Jour, The Tour De France, or as Bob Roll calls it "The Too-or Day Fray-anse". It hasn't been a week and it's already loaded with drama. Jan Ullrich hasn't even made a move yet. I thought Robbie McKuen's move against Stuart O'Grady was pretty despicable, I'm glad he got penalized, but fuck it, Robbie is pure Punk Rock and you can't help but love him. Just stay the fuck out of his way and let him pop wheelies going 40KMPH.

Other obsessions, Myspace.com. I am making it my personal mission to make it an international affair. I've got about twelve different countries kickin' it Myspace stylee, Holla!

I'm looking forward to playing The Abbey Lounge in Boston on Friday with Rev. Timmy and Malibu Lou. Shelby and Nat the Thugamuffin are cruisin' up in the back of Timmy's truck so WATCH OUT!

Gemini Project

2005-07-03T17:45:00.000-04:00

Well oh well, the month of June was a strange one this year. My birthday was on the tenth, two days prior I managed to get not one, but two full Heineken beer bottles busted over my head. That's the last time I try and explain cell phone etiquette to strangers. My Father In Law suggested I get a Glock, but with my luck, I'd try and dial out on it and blow my ear off.

I managed to get a couple of shows in. I played Niagara the other night (6/29/2005) some yob yelled out for "Capital Offender" in the encore, I said "I'll play it if you sing it." It was none other than Dr. Jesse Malin.

I Played again on Friday at Micky's Blue Room with Mad Juana and Rev. Timmy James. It was Timmy's Solo Kidney debut, I didn't notice any difference, He might have been a bit more giggly than usual. He has a great new song called "She Hits Like Girl", it really knocked me out.

I'll be playing at Arlene's Grocery on July 13th, The Abbey Lounge in Boston on the 15th.

Yunching

2005-06-29T03:20:00.000-04:00

I just finished reading Rudy Rucker's latest novel "Frek And The Elixir.

Now, all I wanna' do is Yunch and Unyunch, I'm getting pretty good at it. I got so big that I was able to nestle Uranus into My belly button. The Unyunching part is proving to be a bit challenging. The other night I Unyuched myself too small to play the old C.F. Martin sidearm. Thank Heavens I didn't have a show that night. I'm almost full size right now, well, big enough to play most of the songs on guitar anyway.

If you have any twelve year olds in your life (mental of physical), make sure they get a copy of this book.

Imagine if C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien were Quantum Physicist Mathematicians.

Have You Seen This Band?

2005-06-14T16:24:00.000-04:00

D Generation.

If You have, please tell us all about it in the "comments" section

That's Your's Truely on the left, doing my oh so famous Jackie O. Impersonation.

Elvis Mitchell Rules. Please tell him I said that.

Thanks to The Right Honourable Ghost Boy, Scotty Ramone For the Hosting and the Posting

When Luckiest Girls Attack

2005-05-08T03:57:00.001-04:00

Last Night we played at New York City's Crash Mansion. Crash Mansion is a Science Fiction Movie set, set smack dab in the middle of The Bowery. Frank Lloyd Wright and Georgia O'Keefe set out to design a Disco and this is what they came up with, posthumously. The Arts and Crafts movement never had it so good, and that's not necessarily a good thing.

Dearest Ghost Boy Sister, Tanya showed up, and told us that the Luckiest Girls and I had been selected to be Models, for the upcoming "International Male" Catalogue. Word's come that our brother, Tim, has taken the helm of said publication. Brace yourselves for some pics of some Very Lucky Girls, sporting all manner of "Grape Smugglers". Tim says he'll pay us in pirate shirts, Hoo Rah!

The show was great, despite Eric's constant bouts of unconsciousness . "Terrible Love" Our ode to all things masochistical, has become something of an anthem, at least thats what all our fair, dominant groupies tell me. I do so love playing the guitar electrical. Not that the acoustical guitar is in any way inferior, I just find it less obnoxiously overpowering, to the masses. A great chainsaw of intellect, if you may.

Who's A Lucky Girl?

2005-05-05T17:52:00.000-04:00

Rocked out at Niagara last night, with my band The Luckiest Girls. The Luckiest Girls are Captain Sami Yaffa on Bass Guitar and Eric Kuby on drums. We played down in the basement Tiki Bar. It was hot as hell down there. The Luckiest quickly became the hot and sweaty Yuckiest, playing everything at a hundred miles an hour. It was a major good time.

Rev. Timmy went on right before us. He rallied the masses armed with only a rhinestone studded guitar and a silver plated trigger finger, singing tales of adultery, cocaine, over indulgence and pick-up trucks. His show was a going away party for his kidney, which he is shipping off to Ohio, lucky kidney.

Out In The Streets

2005-04-30T18:26:00.000-04:00

On Tuesday I went to Rothko, to see Early Man play. Early Man, they sound like Metallica before Cliff Burton died and they started sucking so badly. The Burning Brides headlined, they were great and gorgeous. The crowd at Rothko sucked, a bunch of whack assed Billyburgers that wouldn't know a decent circle pit if it came up and floor punched them. There was one, seriously smokin' girl, rocking a Black Flag 'My War" shirt though.

Wednesday I went to Arlene's Grocery to see Camp, featuring RockLand Bartendrix Miss Jill. They are The Pixies meets Sister Double Happiness, another three or four shows and they'll be amazing.

Captain Sami Yaffa has sworn off crumpets and Jaffa cakes and has set sail aboard the Good Ship New York Dollypops. I saw The Dolls play for the first time last night. It was great to see the originators of all the stuff that Kiss and Aerosmith so poorly ripped off. I've Seen Sylvain and David Johansen's solo stuff, I was surprised how refreshing and different The Dolls were from that stuff. An all around great night of showbidness, topped off with a killer Shangri Las cover.

Trick Baby, Lynn Von, brought me to tears with her infectious dancing during "Frankenstein", which Johansen sweetly dedicted to his father. You know, at heart, he's just a nice little Catholic boy from Staten Island.

Sami did a great job of channeling Oscar Wilde, Elvis and something out of a Boy George wet dream, I guess it was the hat, or maybe the waistcoat.

After the show I hooked up with Jesse Malin and a bunch of the Mad Juaniacs over at the Blue Room for some impromptu break dancing to the sweet sounds of N.W.A. At which point Sami, Dolls guitarist Steve Conti and Myself realized, We are, "The Kinda Niggaz That's Built To Last".

Hail Hail Rock And Roll

Arthur Franquini

2005-04-22T14:15:00.002-04:00

Yet Another Great Sportswriter Bites The Dust.
Just found out that My friend and #1 South American Fan, Arthur Franquini committed suicide, jumping of the eleventh floor of a hotel in SÃ£o Paulo. he was an artist of rare talent. Arthur was the original drummer for Paulistano Punk Rockers, The Forgotten Boys. he had recently released a solo album, "When loneliness fucks you up..." (Slag Records). My sympathies to the family and the friends.

Obrigado, Worlds Never Forgotten Boy.

click his name above, to hear some of his music.

This is an interview I did with Arthur back in December

click for the interview

The Return

2005-04-07T17:24:00.000-04:00

Dropped out of sky and into the welcoming arms of Madhattan, aboard the The Good Starship Lollypop. Once back on the ground and clear of customs, I hailed a foul smelling taxi, and headed off to the heart of the city. Word came that Captain Sami and the crew of The Mad Juana had set up shop, at a tiny tavern in north Alphabet City, called Otto's Shrunken Head, apparently the aperitif du maison is a tincture of alum. I found the place fairly easily, by following the sound of Jimmy Vespa's trumpet, It was his 79th Birthday and he was on a mean drunk.

Sami demanded that I play a song or eight, I had to oblige. I opened the set with my freshly penned ode to sadomasochism , "Terrible Love", it was a big hit with the fair dominatrixes.

Tis good to be back in the black leather bosom of Madhatten, with her never ending supplies of tequila.

Tonight we take RockLand, in the name of our brother, Ghost Boy, Tom Vaught.
Tonight is his thirteenth Birthday, tonight we make him a man.

G.B.L.A.M.F.

Glossary Of Terms, Who's Who Etc.

2005-04-05T11:38:00.000-04:00

Abbey Road Studio - birthplace of Sgt. Pepper and Dark Side Of The Moon
Amalia - Mad Juana Violist
Boogaloo - Shane McGowan's local pub in north London,
Camden - London's Rock n' Roll Ghetto
Charlie Harper - Singer for the UK Subs
Claudia Pinto - London Rock Photographer, Princess
Club Bohemia - a gay night in London
Crumpet - hot tasty British pastry
Danny Ray - Mad Juana saxist saxaphonist, Wot's wrong wiv' bein' saxy
Dave the Potter - Rn'R Layabout, Curates the charity fund, Strummerville
Dover - UK port of entry
Dublin Castle - Pub in Camden
Dunkirk - Dunkerque, northernmost French port of entry
Ed's - French Supermarket chain
Famous Cock - Pub in London
Ghost Boys - International Crime Syndicate usually dangerous
Holloway - Ethnically diverse section of north London
Intrepid Fox - Heavy Metal Pub in Soho, London's red light district
Jaffa cake - orange flavored chocolate covered cookie
Jimmy the gimp - Jimmy Vespa, Mad Juana trumpeteer
Karmen Guy - Mad Juana singer
Kerrie - Birminghams high kicking merch girl (sells T shirts for bands)
Knox - singer for The Vibrators
La Pointe Ephemere - a club in Paris
Mad Juana - New York Rock Royalty
Marathon - kebab shop, after hours spot
Mark the Hero - Marc Olivier, singer for the Plastic Heros, Prince
Meps - Conehead for Oh f**k!
Mon vie est un gros poisson d'avril - My life is a giant April fish
Nambucca - best pub in Holloway
Noggy B - my sister Nina Bacchus
Pigalle - Paris red light district
Raphael Du XL-Ant - Paris T shirt manufacturer
Sainsbury's - British supermarket chain
Sami Yaffa - Mad Juana guitarist
Scarred Palm - a Welshman of great stature
Scratchy - Barry Meyers, legendary DJ for The Clash
Simon the Pieman - Simon Nelson Plastic Heros bassist
Sprinter - Model of Mercedes van
Thugamuffin - an adorable scoundrel
Thugzilla - a white Mercedes van, configured for touring Rock bands
Tim the Enchanter - wizard that asks the question, what is your quest?
Tony - mad Juana Percussionist, Monster
Underworld - Rock club in Camden
Vin rouge - red wine
We Are Scientists, New York indie Rock band from Brooklyn

This Time For Real

2005-04-04T19:13:00.000-04:00

Mired in the crusty old port of Heathrow. As usual, the place is abuzz with maniacs and filthy, screaming and thieving urchins. The beer is over priced but perfume is fairly cheap and duty free, hence I'll be making the voyage home reeking of roses.

And so ends another adventure with me clambering aboard The Good Airship Lollypop. Strange, how getting airborne always seems to bring me back down to Earth. Back down to the grind and hustle of Olde MadHattan. Farewell Great Ghost Boys of Holloway, Farewell to Captain Nat and Little Thugzilla, The Scarred Palm, Lady Pinto, Sister Noggy The Crew of The Namabucca, The fair natives of Boogaloo, all my brethren at The Intrepid Fox, Brave Sir Scratchy, Sir Dave The Potter, The Islington Angels, The Camden Queens Of The Underworld, Raphael Du XL-Ant, Pie Man Simon and Hong Kong Kerrie. With Your chrome hearts screaming, into the sun, Long may you run.

See you next time, Bastards

Mon Vie Est Un Gros Poisson D'Avril

2005-04-01T08:12:00.000-05:00

I was awoken, April Fool's style by a genuine french maid. We're talking the real deal here, the shoes, stockings, hips and eyelashes, it's a shame she was bashing me in the head with the vacuum cleaner, but I do suppose, pain is the harsher sister of ecstasy. Luckily for me, Hong Kong Kerrie came along and wrested me away from the troublesome, if not just a little beguiling charwoman, and dragged me of to Pigalle for a long draught of Moulin Rouge. After a few rounds with Monsieur Lautrec we saddled fresh horses and set off for Dunkirk, we had heard that there was ferry, The Midnight Merchant, setting sail for Dover, that we should be able to stow aboard. The Merchant was boarded easily, We quickly set about unburdening her of all the cognac we could find in her galley.

At the white cliffs of Dover we were greeted by the fair Lady Claudia Pinto. She informed us of our invitation to supper, at London's infamous pirate hide-out, Abbey Road Studios. We were greeted at the gates of the Abbey by studio archivists Ian and Cary, I was pleased to find out thet Ian is an avid Cyclist. They wasted no time ushering us into a great feast of pint upon pint of Guinness.

With appetites well sated, Ian and Cary began an exhaustive four hour tour of the grounds, regaling us with great stories, of pirates that had come before us, Peter Sellers, Spike Milligan, Ken Dodd, and the blood thirstiest pair of them all, Morcambe And Wise. There was lots of knob twiddling, a fair amount of baffling and the occasional bout of isolation, a crash course in all matters acoustical, you might say. I now fully understand the importance of installing a Guinness tap in my little recording studio, back at home.

I soon found myself very over excited, and buggered off to The Marathon, in Chalk Farm, to calm down, and catch up some more, with Nasty Nat and the We Are Scientists crew. The Innkeepers of The Marathon have giant plates of blazing hot chips, for hands. I found Nat commiserating with none other than Super Agent, Steve Zapp. We all got up to the usual Marathon nuttiness. Once they ran out of Tequila, I soon wearied of the constant jostling and red hot chip dodging, and buggered back off to Holloway.

Party in Paris

2005-03-30T09:55:00.000-05:00

Just outside The pretty port of Boogaloo a swift schooner came up along side the Mad Juana. She was christened The Sprinter, and was under the command of none other than Captain Marcus Olivier, known in Pirate circles as, Le Hero Du Plastique.

I hastened overboard and swam out to The Sprinter and was unceremoniously fished up on deck by Simple Simon and first mate, High Kicking Kerrie. The Heroes were bound for Dunkirk then onto Paris for a party on the Canal St. Martin, how could I resist such intrigue. In no time at all we were upon Paris, up to our ears in free Champagne. After some negotiation with the very attractive landlady of the venue, La Point Ephemere, I struck up a deal for unlimited vin rouge and champagne, in exchange for a free tee shirt. Madame Landlady did not ask how much we could drink, nor say what shirt size she was, I made sure to give her nice tight one with the big pink logo, Yum!

With refreshments secured, High Kicking Kerrie and I buggered if for a quick quiche and a petit tete a tete. Over quiche, salade italien and Kronenbourges, HK Kerrie intimated her dreams of ruling the Kingdom of Oud Amsterdaam. She has the most brilliant idea of running off the pervs and junkys and filling all the canals with cement. I do very much like the cut of this HK Kerrie's jib, and I vow to always vote for Kerrie.

After Lunch HK Kerrie and I stopped into Ed's to stock up on powder, shot and zinfandel. We got back to Point Ephemere just in time to witness my anglo-gallic doppelganger Tcharelz (pron. charles) running the place mad with his philosophizing about octagons. Tcharelz is Plastic Bertrand meets Wreckless Eric, for polygons and their admirers.

The Plastic Heroes offered me the option of either walking the plank into the canal, or performing a ballad, at gun point, before the assembly. I decided to oblige them with a song, Capital Offender seemed a fairly fitting tune.

Then the Heroes stormed the stage. I tried to make my escape, while they were distracted, but found my self strangely drawn to the dance floor. I can't, for the life of me understand, why no one bothered to tell me, The Plastic Heroes are an exceedingly good Rock and Roll band. HK Kerrie and I HK'd our little heart out.

After the show we all piled into Raphael the Marquis de XL-Ant's Citroen CV6, and shot off to the hotel, for Skulldugery and Pastis. I unfortunally passed out in the bushes at some point, and missed out on the lions share of Skulldugery.

Vive Le Rock!

Here We Go Round The Boogaloo

2005-03-29T01:25:00.002-05:00

We hugged the shores of Boogaloo, and weighed anchor just at the mouth of her pretty little port. Droves of natives paddled out to our vessel, bearing pints of delicious, icy cold Guinness. Whereas the night previous, we were double, three fisting Coronas, the number of pints of Guinness you can sensibly hold with one hand stands at two, creating in effect, the proverbial "Double Irish Handcuffs", Oh sweet bondage.

At some point We found ourselves surrounded by a reasonably agreeable bunch of Boogalese, at which I suggested, we chuck down our weaponry and give the savages a taste of what We Ghost Boys do best. I fired up my little wooden side arm and set about the yowling and teeth gnashing that I pass off for a performance. The younger female Boogalese find my sinister, pencil thin mustache, fascinating. Awed into silence the sweet children of Boogaloo began to nuzzle each other and rock two and fro, a magical display, truly magical.

Karmen and her Juana Loca, smashed the reverie and set the natives all a'prancing and jumping up down, or was that just me? It took a little effort to convince these simple, sweet indigents, that what they were witnessing was more, posturing, than an actual physical threat. They found the brass terrifying and took Amalia's bow, to be some sort of rapier. "You know? it's just like the great apes of Borneo, slapping about and screaming." This, the Boogalese seemed to get some grasp of, they scurried off to dispatch more Guinness.

So with heavy hearts we set sail back to MadHatten and our beloved Alphabet City, with tears in our eyes, we say goodbye to England and Springtime. This sojourn has brought us a great bounty of new friends. Nina the German, Lady Eloise, The Great Scarred Palm of Wales Nick the Mack. It was really nice to come across Dave Tregunna, His old gang, The Sham 69, inspired my very first Borstal Breakout, which I suppose was the Genesis, of this life of wanton Piracy.

Many thanks to Captain Sami and his Crew. Sami is all but cured of his crumpet addiction, and well into an unhealthy obsession with Jaffa Cakes, at least he won't need a toaster. The Mad Juana, with her cockeyed deck and wobbly main mast, is of sound hull, and is as seaworthy a vessel that I have ever been aboard, long may she roam. I look forward serving upon her again one day. Danny Ray, who the f**k could have dreamt we'd be up to all this. Your My Oldest, Bestest friend and it's been a great honour and pleasure serving with you.

Marc, Claudia, Simon, Rachael, Phil and the entire MacDuckworthington Clan, Your gigantic hospitality and generosity is so humbling. I hope to return your favour, anyway I can. I suppose I should also thank Karen the Curious, for beginning this cycle of warmth and selflessness, let's keep it spinning.

UP WITH US, DOWN WITH THEM! Ghost Boys Forever.

Richard Bacchus,
Holloway, London, Spring 2005.

Another Holloway, Another Planet

2005-03-28T05:31:00.000-05:00

We literally rolled, over to Nambucca, right on Holloway road, for yet another impromptu show. The good Captain Sami, feels the element of surprise is our strongest suit. I was a bit nervous out on the high road, considering that last nights raunchiness had happened just outside of Nambucca, those thugs could alight upon us at any moment. I was able to conjure a disguise, with only a thin strip of dirty black leather, and a beat up, C.F. Martin Guitar, circa 1969. Save for a few bullet holes, she is a fairly sound instrument.

Turns out, Jay the sound man from Nambucca is dear friend of Thug-muffin Nat, Jay promotes a killer Rock and Roll party called FROG, down at the old Mean Fiddler. Nasty Nat showed up with a large bag of Corona Cervesas on her back, and a sack of fresh limes. Thank heavens, maybe now, my gums will stop bleeding.

The bar was crawling with sexy bunnies. These specimens time were all jacked up on some form of stimulant, they ended up all parked around a massive table, laden with hot cross buns, chocolate Easter eggs and enormous carrots. A most hideous scene, watching them ravenously gorging themselves

M.A.D. (Most Agreeable Disposition) Juana got the bunnies hopping with rousing rendition of Bob Dylan's "Everybody Must Get Stoned". We knew that Cornwall would take great pleasure in this particular cover, stoning is the favoured method of dispatching Pirates in those parts, I must say, this urban enthusiasm for the tune has taken us all by surprise.

After that a great band called The Holloways played, a little bit Replacements, a little bit Supergrass. Once we had shut down the pub, by drinking all their tequila, sound man Jay set us on our way, it was time to "Roll" back to, Du Maison Du Plastic Heroes for another one of Mark the Hero's signature piss ups. We made short work of polishing off the entire stock of a delicious Vin Du Pays, and once again found ourselves reduced to drinking after-shave, I have to admit, I'm developing a taste for Old Spice, Hai Karate is quite good as well.

Later that night I began my project of weaning the Captain off of crumpets, using Jaffa Cakes. I feel his condition should improve in a couple of days. We are in dire need of discipline around here. Floggings are in order. I personally could use about seven or eight licks of the lash.

Upward and onward, we set sail for the warm, welcoming shores of Boogaloo. We must set aside some baubles and trinkets, as an offering to their good King Shane McGowan.

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Winged Madness

Amy Poehler's advice for girls at the Glamour awards

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When the questions gets tough, the "Tough" "Cut And Run"...

Happy Birthday To Me

Somali Piracy

Angry Angel

Daily Lethals 2008

Terrible Love

Happy Birthday to Me

D Generation Reunion Pics

Independent Weekly Review

Congratulations Slayer

Deepak Chopra: Morning Walk in NYC

Life in pictures: Benazir Bhutto

Richard Bacchus and Jesse Malin: Capital Offender

Phoot! Phoot! Peach!

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The author, aspugnacious in person as in print, died.

Norman Mailer: subversive chronicler of the American dream

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Richard Bacchus & The Lucklest Girls; Jet Black & Beautiful

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Luckiest Debut

He Lies, They Die

Bullshit: it's not just for grown ups any more

Message to the Children of the U.S. Military

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Rosewood Purfling Yum!

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Robert Anton Wilson Signs Off

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Compression's Got A Hold Of Me...

You Might Be A Nazi If...

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Interview

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The author, as
pugnacious in person as in print, died.