Subtle Bluntness

I could’ve done this last week for Valentine’s Day, but screw it.  Any time is a good time for A) the mighty Rev. and B) a ride on the Big Red Rocket Of Love.  Plus, bonus trip back into the Original Cone Zone!  Can’t go wrong with that.

Let’s go!

Man, these guys can play the hell out of their instruments.  Like their brand of musical weirdness or not, they know what they’re doing on the fretboard.  Plus it’s great to see young(ish), hungry Dave again, if only briefly.  Plus it’s funny to see the band stop, then Les Claypool gesture to the audience to tell them it’s over before they’ll start clapping.

After a long, sleepless night worrying myself stupid about snow that may or may not fall during my commute home, I decided to say, “We don’t give a shit about tomorrow.”  Hey Suburbia.

Midwestern Songs of the Americas is a damn fine punk rock album, kids.

In honor of the snow outside, and in honor of my week-long nosebleeds (I’ve gotten my first sinus infection of the season, so I guess those pills and sprays are working out for me), I thought, “Who knows more about snow and nosebleeds than Dr. Rockzo, the Rock ‘n’ Roll Clown?  Nobody, that’s who.

Happy New Year, gang.

In the words of the Dan Band, “Have a very merry motherfucking Christmas.  Peace on earth, we are the world, and frickin’ kumbaya!”

I’m struggling mightily with my holiday blues.  This has been the year from hell for a whole lot of friends, both new and old, and while things are going okay for me comparatively, it’s still hard to keep a brave face on this time of year.  The fact that I’m STILL not ready for Christmas isn’t helping matters.  It doesn’t matter if the present is late so long as it gets there, right?

I think this Christmas thing is going to work.  If I just keep beating myself with Trans-Siberian Orchestra and heavy metal Christmas songs, it might help me power through the holiday season like Santa through a bucket of cookies and quart of milk.