Monthly Archives: November 2008

A Moose is Loose.

I was in the middle of something.  It was a story.  I am still in the middle of it, I think, but I was compelled to write of something else.

Tonight I went to see a rock show.  It was Kaitlyn, myself, and a gaggle of her friends.  I had seen all the bands that were playing previously, and I can honestly say that I enjoyed all three sets, for different reasons.  However, I was not compelled to write because of the bands.  I was not compelled to write because of the awesome dinner I had earlier in the evening.  I was not compelled, to write about my five year old son, holding on to me in a dark kitchen, crying.

His grief was genuine.  I cannot be sure what prompted it, but he told me of his sense of loss, and how he has felt abandoned these past three years, and how badly it hurt.  He “missed something”.  It broke my fucking heart all over again.  None of that made me feel like I had to get home, open a new entry, and just say something about how I felt.

We went to see Moose Moose, Kaitlyn and I.  We are friends of the band (well, her really), and it seemed like a fantastic way to top off an already enjoyable evening.

The trio consists of Phillip Belcastro (drums, vocals, guitar), Derek Smith (guitar, bass, vocals), and Joe James (guitar, bass, drums, vocals, kazoo?).  All members rotate during a set, and at any given moment you could have any of them playing, singing, and/or banging away on the kit.  Tonight the set started with Joe James on the drums, Derek Smith on the bass, and Phillip Belcastro on the guitar.  It must be said that all three play their respective instruments very well, whichever it happens to be at the time, and they are all competent vocalists, and backup vocalists as needed.

Now, with that out of the way, I give the reason why I write at 5am.

The moment I heard the slam of percussion, I knew something was different.

I actually moved across the bar and settled myself amidst a cluster of amplifiers and cymbals just to get a better view of the drum kit.  Joe James didn’t just play the drums, he destroyed them.  This is no slight on Phil, his drumming is very skillfully done.  There is simply just another element that I do not think can be reproduced simply with ability alone.  Every crash and snap echoed with something that felt like pure happiness, and somehow at the same time, screaming, ripping pain.  Fu-u-u-uuuuu-u-u-u-ccc-c-c-c-c-cc-cc-cc-ccc-k-k-k-kkkk!!!!…!!…!!!!!…!!!!!!!!

Just like that.  A long, angry staccato swear that makes you high because it gets it out.

His whole body twisted and contorted around the kit, furiously keeping pace at the loudest possible decibel level his blurred hands could coax forth.  At one point, I looked over at a spectator seated by the side of the stage, who saw me gesture towards James.  He nodded and gave an expression of what appeared to be mild surprise.  A percussionist who is able to convey that much feeling is not something I have come across very often, and likely not many others.

He did switch to guitar in due time, and provided lead vocals for several songs.  His vocals were reminiscent of his drumming simply for the fact that they were filled with those same things I described earlier.  When his mouth opened to sing, or scream, or growl, it didn’t feel like an ‘effect’.  It was loaded with a tangle of emotions, primarily pain, and it spoke in much the same way the angry thuds and cracks did earlier.  It felt like before to me, sitting in that dark kitchen.

Every time those sticks made a cymbal crash, or a snare snap.  Every time that foot slammed that pedal into that bass drum.  Every time that voice growled a phrase, and chewed those words to bits and pieces.  Every time, I felt something scream inside me right along.  I felt my heart break like it did just a few hours earlier. I felt my sons little hands clutching on to my shoulders, grief-stricken, confused, and just so, so, so, so, fucking, angry, angry, angry.  The music gave it form, and release.  It just couldn’t answer that one word question that little voice kept asking.  Why, why, why?

Thud. Why.

Snap. Why.

Crash. Why.

I didn’t ask for this.  So I don’t know why.  I don’t know if Joe does either, but I heard him asking, over, and over and over.  And it sounded fucking glorious.

Perhaps by their standards, the performance was not as well done as they would have liked.  I say this only because they, like the others playing before them, ran into a few technical issues.  However, the show was nothing short of memorable for me, and that had nothing to do with equipment.

Well done Moose Moose (Meese?).

And a special kudos to Joe James.  Who, in my opinion, is a vomit-induced asphixiation away from Bonham.

So until a desperate Jimmy Page auditions a Moose Moose vocalist,

Live it, Love it,



I would like to take this time to point out a few things that have been bothering me for some time.

1. Please, if you insist on saying idiotic things like, “but dude, seriously, we only use ten percent of our brains”, at least have the courtesy to indulge me with an entertaining example of our “potential”, should we figure out how to utilize the “dormant”, other ninety percent.

2. Also, please, stop saying how your “stomach shrank” because you haven’t eaten in days.  Or at least, have the courtesy to listen as to why this is a ridiculous and somewhat horrifying concept.

Now the third, and biggest, is by far, the most common, and annoying thing people insist on speaking of.


Let me begin by quoting Alan R. Templeton P.H.D. who analyzes DNA for a living.

(For those who missed it, this means he knows a hell of a lot more than you or I about what makes us, us.)

“The pattern of overall genetic differences instead tells us that genetic lineages rapidly spread out to all of humanity, indicating that human populations have always had a degree of genetic contact with one another, and thus historically don’t show any distinct evolutionary lineages within humanity,” Templeton said. “Rather, all of humanity is a single long-term evolutionary lineage.”


The popular concept of racial distinctions within the ranks of humanity is complete and utter bollocks.  People just look different, that’s it.  What makes this all the more infuriating, is when so-called ‘intelligent’, and ‘sophisticated’ people readily buy into this concept, for better or worse.

e.g. – “Our nation has come so far, electing a black man as its president!”

(likely spoken by a rich, “white liberal”.  what a despicable condescending bunch.)

Incorrect.  Our nation has elected a man as president.

Even taken in context of our nations long and stupid and terrible history regarding issues with the amount of skin pigmentation people possess, it is still grossly incorrect.  Even more so, because it simply lends credence to the false concept of race distinction in humans that led to the problem in the fucking first place.

Here is what amounts to basically the most annoying description ever, “I’m half Jewish and half…..”

My blood pressure shoots up about thirty points, at least.  As if minute superficial characteristics were not enough, now fools are buying into an idea brought about by Nazi propaganda.  What makes the above the ‘most’ annoying, is halving the stupidity, which in reality, doubles it.  I refuse to address quartering…

So, when will people truly begin to understand the truth of this?  Well for starters, doing away with the idea of “political correctness” completely and utterly would be an important first step.  You have a big flat nose?  That’s funny.  You have funny looking eyes?  That’s funny too.  You have pale milky skin?  That’s funny too.  Etc, etc, etc…. Get the fuck over it you fucking pansy asses.

Wishful thinking on my part.  The self-righteous and the self-victimized will never allow their ‘just’ pursuit of making sure no ones feelings ever get hurt end.  Then they might be forced to take responsibility for only themselves and their families, and perhaps, not feel so fucking self-important.

No my friends, the truth of the “human race” will not be realized until the day comes when the little green men come say hello.  It is then that the klan wizard and the naacp leader will say to each other, “cracker ass honkeys and niggers unite, we got some little green alien things to kill.”

I know what I just typed.  But despite the idea that some might have, perhaps indicating that I lack the proper pigmentation to say certain words, I will not bow to that ignorance.

There are a lot of films that some might say were meaningful and significant in terms of race.  Roots, The Color Purple, Born in East L.A. (run cheech!), however, as far as I know, there is only one.

Alien Nation.

No film addresses the idea of racism more clearly and accurately than this one.

So, until Jim Brown punches his way to uniting us all…

Live it, Love it,


It just packed up.

I am so full, that I find I cannot put anything down.  It is with enormous frustration that I write of nothing.

I am ready to burst at times, or so I feel.  Then the bottom falls out, leaving me wondering what exactly it was that drove my thoughts in the first place.

What begins as a great idea, dissolves upon impact.

I feel bereft of ability, and at times, vocabulary as well.

This is depressing beyond what is reasonable.


Ok, I recorded two songs seal covered for his karaoke contest.

It is a little known fact that I absolutely adore seal.  So, I need at least 100 plays on one or both of the songs, and he hears it, and judges it.  Look, whether you think I suck monkey balls or not, that’s pretty damn cool.

So, I really need everyone who reads this to click the fuck out of those two tunes.  Tell everyone you know to click the hell out of them too, anyone, it doesn’t matter, give them the web address, they don’t even need a myspace.
stand by me, and here I am.


click, click, click.


One hundred is the magic number.

Big Mouth Strikes Again.

I agreed to basically house-sit for a few days.  I can only hope it goes quietly.  I am liable to snap like a brittle twig if I am forced to deal with much nonsense.

The Panic at the Disco line will become, let’s get these teens beaten faster and faster.  Of course I re-recorded a whole batch of shit.  I might do some later too, if it makes sense to do.  As it is, I am tired, and not keen traveling elsewhere to sleep.  Much less get up for work and secure a house.  This is all looking a tad overwhelming.

I am dirty, hungry, and lonely at the moment.  The upside?  An open bottle of fine australian merlot awaits.

Obama is changing the world already!

TOKYO (Reuters) –   Prime Minister Taro Aso issued a statement Wednesday extending his, “heartfelt congratulations” to President-Elect Obama.  Later, he conducted a private meeting with cabinet members, allegedly seeking ways to increase cultural sensitivity in order to not offend the new American leader.

For many years, Japanese entertainment has held little regard for political correctness, often using wildly inappropriate racial depictions in film and television.  These productions are often heavily edited for overseas importation, however, Prime Minister Aso feels that it is time the japanese people gained some perspective on the highly volitile issue of american race relations.

In a move typical of the ‘hands on’ brand of leadership he is well known for, he volunteered himself, and his family to spearhead the initiative.

Japan One, a well-known and well-respected producer of popular japanese sitcoms, agreed to script and produce the six-minute sketch designed to improve racial awareness.  Prime Minister Aso appeared to enjoy his movie star stint, and shared laughs with his family on the set as they viewed the final copy.  At one point his son turned to him and said, “I cannot wait to share breakfast with the President and his family!”

The short segment is to be broadcast during evening programming Saturday, November 8th.

Noku Yobai, head of programming for Japan One television issued this statement on Thursday,

“Political correctness is a strong and intergral part of american culture.  We feel that we have produced an effective and powerful way to convey to our people how this should be addressed in order to foster greater communication, and greater respect between our peoples.  We are deeply honored that Prime Minister Aso chose us to create his vehicle of understanding.”


Today was not a pleasant day.  It was Antonio’s birthday.  He turned five.  I spoke to him twice on the telephone, and each time his little voice ended in a sad decrescendo, with every word he spoke.  It gave me that nightmarish, I want to pull the wheel into a pole, feeling.

I have felt physical pain that created gibbering.  Gibbering is when your throat is too raw from screaming and you just make non-sensical croaking noises.

Even that paled in comparison to those special days, twice a year, when I get eviscerated via telephone.  It leaves you without hope, or desire for anything.  I cannot speak for others, this is simply what it feels like for me.

I wished him a happy birthday, told him how much I missed and loved him, and hung up so I could cough and cry.  It will never get better than that.

There are moments in which existence feels pointless.