I’m Coming Over Later

Posted: September 18, 2014 in Fridge Note, Humanity is a virus, It's not the heat, it's the humanity, Shovels, Uncategorized

So, am I a sucker for the marketing arm of Big American Sucker Chinese Made Crap?

Yes.  They have identified me as a target market, and yes, I am susceptible.  Yes, Fuck Damn it, I am:


I also plunked for the Zombie Yard Flamingo.

But at the end of the day, I figure that this obsession with my brethren will only make you breathers misunderstand the threat, but also mostly misinterpret it as a Walking Dead episode, until it’s too late.  So it’s all written into the Zompacalypse Master Plan.  My undead brethren are nothing if not adaptable…


Re the Post Title.  It is from one of my favoritest bands, and I am perplexed by the fact that BBBB knows people related to the band but has never seen them, when they are from his neck of the woods and play there ALMOST ALWAYS.  Yes, it’s the Figgs, from a full album release of an old EP of theirs (Badger!)

The Figgs are one of the most awesome pub-punk-garage bands I know of.  In a rational world, they would be playing at bars in every single city in the world;  They would be releasing free albums on iTunes, because they are more true and devoted to the heritage and passion of the music they love than U2 has ever been…

I have often talked about this band that I loved since I saw them back up Graham Parker on a silly TV show, but in addition to GP, they exploded out of the TV in a way that made me insist that we see them at a small punk club… and they kicked ass in a way that makes you stagger.  And we saw them so many times since, they are such great guys and they play just as extreme when it’s for many hundreds of people as when they play for me and Silent Mike and four other people and they are massively hungover….

But nobody gives a shit what I say about music, anymore.  Oh Well.  They are spectacular to see live, and that’s where music lives, ain’a?  in live performances.  I sit here, drunkenly eating grapes and trying to type this fucking  crap in order to push the things I feel out onto this fucking Mojo wire and what fucking difference does it make?  You still have to use mines to keep those stupid fucking dogs off the couch, and then try to keep people like Zevon from getting at the GOOD armaments.

I suffered the slings from a friend who went to see Bob Mould tonight, with Cymbals Eat Guitars tonight, because I bailed; but we are seeing War On Drugs next week with Califone opening.

And if you have never heard of those bands, you need to get your shit together and find some kind of suck-ass streaming service that hardly pays artists for their fucking postage, and listen for yourself…

  1. My el cheapo suck ass streaming service that hardly pays artists for their fucking postage is kind of tied up right now delivering a Benatar/Quarterflash/Blondie/Crissy Hynde playlist that is making me smile and feel all warm inside like I had a kitten sleeping on my pancreas.

    After that I have a Rage Against the Machine playlist queued up, but after that I might be ready for some punk-o Rock-o…

  2. In an unexpected development I got sidetracked with the Goo Goo Dolls. Which is making me start to think about a Soul Asylum bingette.

    Maybe it’s just not going to be a punk-y kind of day for me today.

    Eventually I’m going to switch to rum and football…

Go ahead, tell me how I fucked up this time.

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