No, It’s not me…ha, ha! I would have loved that status but missed my chance when I moved to L.A. ….not that anyone would have been likely to induct me anyway. Well, here is my actual interview for the week about a really amazing woman who supports the arts and tries to keep the NY scene alive. You can read it here.
I digressed a bit from my usual interview kind of format to do a review of Knotfest/Ozzfest. It’s pretty funny. You can read it here. I have another article that I will post tomorrow that is truer to my usual format.
Don’t ask me why I titled this blog Locked and Loaded…other than that the guy I was writing about has the last name Gunn. That was actually my original title for the article but thankfully, the editor decided to change it at the last minute, sparing me some embarrassment, yet, here I am embarrassing myself just the same. Anyway, some of you may be interested in this one as this guy not only managed to end up playing with his idol, Marky Ramone of The Ramones, but also ended up publishing a book without even trying. Some people, am I right? Well here is the link.
Also, fun though this column may be, I am running low on people who have an interesting story and are willing to be candid with me, from the hard rock, punk or metal communities. Go figure, right? Anyway, in the unlikely event that you know anyone who fits this bill, send them my way, thanks!
It’s been years and we’re still together
Outlasted doubters and bad weather
But with these handcuffs I’m still tethered
Though many said I should know better
I say to hell with their opinions
And laugh about their lack of vision
And stand firm ‘hind my decision
Marrying a devil’s minion
Our house may smell of rotting flesh
Hints of decay and mold and death
But babe I still think you’re the best
Well beyond my dying breath
Forever in the bowels of hell
A blissful life in which we dwell
The flames of burning bodies swell
I’ve gotten quite used to the smell
Dismembered heads, our home’s decor
We dine with sinners, ghouls and whores
And I could hardly love you more
Here’s to 6 hundred twenty more
Every year I pass the torch to my husband at midnight on Sept. 14. It’s his birthday now. Happy Birthday darling. I love you!
It’s my birthday bitches
And you all just best stand down
I ain’t takin no tiara cause
I wear a full on crown
You can wish me well on Facebook
But what would be even better
Is some shiny leather hot pants
And a pink angora sweater
A sterling silver bracelet that
Snakes so around my wrist
Now let me just be patient while
You go write down your list
Don’t look at me all guilty and
Tell me you never knew
I’m accepting gifts tomorrow
And the day after that too
You can call me egotistical
Or say I’m immature
But I think I’m doing pretty good
For just turned 24
And tell my boss it’s likely I
Won’t be in till next Monday
It’s officially a holiday
In many foreign countries
So roll out the red carpet
And a highway to devote
To the annual procession
In my purple satin float
Take your mop and broom, and don’t you even
Think about those dishes
Leave the laundry for tomorrow
Cause it’s my birthday bitches.
Quite possibly my weirdest to date. This one went to dark places but funny enough my recorder cut out at just the right time and, while I could have relied on memory, I chose to omit it anyway. In any case, an interesting, though unpaid, job for sure. Let me know what you think of Robert Butcher and his controversial art. Here’s the link.
For all that are interested, my next Geeks of Doom article can be read here. It should hold the interest of anyone who was interested in the 80’s hair metal scene which was a pretty fun time in L.A. Shire is my brother in law’s band and this is a picture of him with Guns N’ Roses Izzy Stradlin before he was famous.
While I decide what to do with the ashes of what has now become my blog, please enjoy some pieces from my new writing project. I’ve been covering local, independent rock artists for an online magazine called Geeks of Doom. You can read my first article here. In the meantime, I will be using this blog to feature The CheeseBergen’s music, more Geeks Of Doom pieces and any moments of poetic brilliancy that might come to me.