Friday Night at the Death Club #5
By: Kenny

Oh My Goodness, Oh My Goodness. Like I’ve Said Before- If You Can’t Stand To Be In Church For An Hour, How Are You Gonna’ Live In Heaven Forever? Yeah, You’re Gonna’ Die.

Really, I want to get down to serious issues. Issues like of the ass and the political and the familiar and the butt and the family issues. When you drink beer and read this business, be at a bar. Print it out, or something. I want you to displace me into shadow and an overcast, and a partial reality. I am a skateboard and groundings by your folks, your first dealings with black guys, your first dealings with white guys, and your first dealings with girls when you realized that you wanted to fuck them, but that they’re real, real difficult. And of course it can be your first dealings with that special boy. Fuck that kid. And now it’s swimming. You’re there alone after work ‘cause there’s nothing to do and you have 20 bucks- you don’t feel like going home yet, either. And then really, I am that creepy drunk next to you that’s a little bit offensive, but down to the point that you wouldn’t fuck him up, no matter what he’s spouting off. What can you do? Cause in a way, he’s coming correct. And it kind of sucks, that this person that you’ve already deemed in the social placement rule brain that your parents and teachers and friends gave you, makes a sense that you weren’t ready for- whether they’re 24 or 34 or 64, they just said something that you thought about hard, and will think about the next day. When was the last time one of your motherfucking fiends, your brains said that shit? Said some shit that was important, much less something in which you could "believe in"- when? But then it always comes to the issues. These issues created by the brand new, year 2000, just shut up, everything is cyber- perfect fucking brand new 1950’s. Let’s take the easy way out, shall we? Let’s rock. Rocking time ladies and gentlemen. No, fuck that, it’s time to get locked out, g. No, fuck that- let’s hit the streets and bum money for 40’s. Ahhhh, forget that- let’s make really low quality Aus-Rotten patches and hock them for 40’s- then we can panhandle for PCP money! If you don’t drink, and you used to drink, you lose- you’ve already taken the easy way out of issues. And that’s a sorry one. That’s my issue. Self control issues suck. Anyhoo, you’ve already taken the quick lane towards complacency. "I quit drinking", he/ she said, and his/ her life was instantaneously improved to the quick of that perfection. "We quit doing drugs," they said, and lived happily ever after. Stupid craziness! "I quit eating meat and now not only is the world a better place, my colon has never felt more clear!" We love the quick shit. We love the instant. We don’t want answers; we want our moms. We want pats on the head, no arguments, and just please, please allow me to keep believing that I’m wild, punk rock, intelligent, and ready to go. If something is right for you, then it must be right for you and everyone else. If you claim to be a victim, come talk to me- I’ll victimize the fuck out of you. Motherfucker, I’m tired of that shit. I’m tired of your pleas. We’re all tired of you. We know who you are. And if "we" don’t, I do. You’re the 28-year-old, exposed poseur/ or that dude that listened to cool music in ’88, now thinks that you still know what’s up, but haven’t even cracked the surface. Sorry- you be illin’. You wouldn’t be reading this though, so I’m probably not talking to you. Who am I talking to? Who else is there, anyway? Ah yes, all of the 1 plus 9 plus 7 plus 7= 24 safety pin bandits. Welcome to the middle ground of me contradicting myself for my own purposes. Simply read on. I will do an even better job at exposing myself as a total dickhead. Believe that.

15 Year Olds Do It To Fakie- With Anyone Willing.

Retire your 15 year old beliefs- yes you might, and I feel sorry for you. If you can’t stand with and defend 15-year-old beliefs, how are you going to bust the bubble? And if hovering the bubble is your thing, how are you going to defend your soul? You’re now weak, you’re now this, you’re now that, but you’ll never really be what you think you are- you have no conviction. You are not abusive, nor are you clever, or cool. You are not Wattie Buchan, or Jackie O, nor are you Lou Reed. There’re unfortunately many dudes that you are not. The shame of it though, is that you are not even yourself; there is no you for you to be. You are an empty, programmed shell. But to be an ageist, or an idealist, holier than thou, or fully broken? These or the strange politics of individuality without being a complete mental defective. Those are the real individuals. Like my Grandma. She’s this real big sweet, crazy old lady who loves to crank the Beatles and hang out with her married, black boyfriend (A big, "crazy" issue with the rest of the family besides my immediate family). Back at my Grams- she is definitely an individual, I will tell you that, but completely nuts. Upon my acceptance that I was growing up and I had to get a job sooner or later, I finally realized that I’m a pretty "normal" person. I really don’t feel nuts as often as I used to. The thing is, is that I realized I wasn’t crazy - I just had massive anxiety issues due to the fact that I didn’t want to do anything. Doing stuff made me very unhappy, and uncomfortable. I don’t view my parents as some sort of anti- Christ anymore, and I generally feel "decent" all day. Also, when it came down to working and buying motorcycles and skate- park passes and drugs and beer, or eating out of trash cans, that choice was very, very easy. It was this very thing that really started to scare me. It happened about two months ago. It happened for real reasons- I was almost tricked, but learned a lot in the process. I now work up to 60 hours a week! Oh my god, I have to go and lie down. The thought of it wears me out more than the work. Seriously. All the TV time that I’m missing. All the hangovers that I could be sleeping off. Uh oh- my life doesn’t feel like it’s on hold anymore- the anxiety! Here it comes!

So I guess that is what is really comes to- being willing to put forth the effort to control your own fate. All of these folks we’re talking about are so concerned with everyone else, their politics, their look, but unwilling to take a look back at themselves. This goes for the whole world of course, but I’m trying to put it into terms that people who would be reading this can understand well.

It’s like those anarchists. Those political types in general. It comes down to control issues, or the lack of simple control. Freedom and control are two very big issues in my life too, really. So too are they in the message of these people. Abolish government, abolish this, and abolish that. But don’t yell at me when the FDA is abolished and you shit your bondage pants after eating some bad, unregulated falafel. So you’re stupid. And your ideas are outdated. When I look at it, it’s the same shit as the democrats and the republicans. Political types live in the past. Anarchy is a really outdated thing. And I’m not saying that there’re not true anarchists out there, but as much as I don’t like rules and people telling me what to do, I still think anarchy is silly. The true form of it would be akin to being a really extreme hippie. You’d have to live on the street basically, or in a tree house, which is actually illegal. I know that in Montana you can live on state owned land, but you can’t be in one place for more than 10- 20 days; something like that. That would be a big pain having to built tree- houses so often so you don’t get a wolverine up the ass, but you could live there for the relegated time period. If you’ve ever been there though, you’d know this wouldn’t present a problem, except for the fact that you’d probably freeze to death or get eaten by a bear. Total anarchy! But if that’s your thing, go do that. For the price of camping gear, a survivalist book, one dollar for ten pyramid spikes for your tent, and a bus ticket out there, you could completely subvert the system. The problem with most anarchist types though, is that the wilderness of Montana is too far away from their parents, cough medicine, and malt liquor (This would also be my problem, but I’m not pretending that I’m something that I’m not), which leads me back to my previous point. Two types- the U.S. spoiled brat anarchist, and the foreign dole and health care anarchist. The dole and health care type- I can understand the rationale but don’t know any. The U.S. type- these kids either have parents to run home to, or are really fucked up- their politics don’t work for them, as they are completely victimized. They work for their politics and don’t even do a good job of that. To jump around for a second, my friend Aaron is not an anarchist, but he rarely works, and drives around the country, subverting the "system" and "dicking" off. I often think about all these people that are so whiny and then think of him- he just goes and does that. He’s not looking for approval or anything like that. "Anarchists" or any of these people want social approval from their peers, and in that light, they are completely controlled. ‘Cause anarchy and these punk politics are old, like I said. They are stale. The classic anarchist bombings and revolts happened basically during the non- wartime pre- 1950’s, Haymarket square and what have you. You also have the Weather Underground and stuff, but these 60’s types were hippies, and hippies became 80’s Michael Douglas Wall Street types or gas station attendants- look it up. But anyway, these people were trying to live in a country being taken over by a new industrial labor force that they didn’t want. Dear anarchists- you lost and you won. The industrial labor force, in this country at least, is basically dead. But now you’ve got this new Internet, Buddhist bead, and pot economy in its’ place. Ask any biker that worked for GM- they want those jobs back, but it was the entire radical movements desire to become pot smoking school teachers and travel agents that fucked up the one thing that anarchists had a hand in making "decent". I’ll explain.

I have a job right now making 8 bucks and hour driving a forklift. This is a minimum $16 an hour job, that I don’t mind, but you people have fucked up for me. I make half of what I should be making, and the company feels that I should be licking their asses for that $8- like they’re doing me such a tremendous favor. I couldn’t get into a good firm to do this type of work because there are so very few left. It’s all computers now, and a soft global rule that is the norm, but now you’re yelling about globalization. So you don’t want to work, but don’t want the jobs sent places where people do, and this and that. Your idea of no control reminds me of the Nazis. You want it your way, and that’s it. You want control- everything to be exactly like you wanted it, but you don’t know shit. Life ain’t like that, see. The moment one of you radicals was appointed ruler, every country would be cutting our throats, and we’d be sucking the dicks of every greasy fuck that wants what we have. Not through oppression, but through luxury you’ve been rewarded, and been lucky enough where you can live in a country where you can spend your time thinking about all of your flaky, hippie bullshit. I, living in this same country, try to use my time to, like the anarchists, beats, hippies, punk rockers, and Rob Halford used it when they were relevant- to create a way of living that is good for soul, art, pocketbook, and a lot of motherfucking fun- then let people in on it without shoving down their throats. That’s my point. All of you idjits need to start taking control of yourselves, and then maybe you can slice through all of this shit and achieve some fulfillment, and maybe even some happiness. Sorry, is that not good enough for you Adolf? Well, it’s gonna’ have to be. I’m going back to the future.

Keep On Rocking ‘Till the Walls Break Down.

Lately I’ve been on a huge Motorcycle Boy and Replacements kick. But I’ve got some new stuff, too. I fleshed out a couple of my collections, and I’ll start with those. Let’s warp to SoCal. The new Stitches is out. On that note, I don’t have it and ain’t in a rush- 3 years? If they weren’t in a hurry, than I’m not in a hurry, either. On the broken glass and beaches front, if you don’t own all of the pre- CD Smogtown releases, you’re a silly person. These guys bring it. The Adolescents/ OC influence is so very present, but this is pure, end of existence, bleeding punk rock. Another band I’ve recently been checking in on is Bonecrusher. I know, I know- that’s such a terrible band name, but they’re a great band. All of their stuff is killer SoCal punk rock mixed with Stiff Little Fingers- tough guy punk for knuckleheads and all of you battered street rats. I love this band. If you contact Hostage Records, they’ll do you up. Speaking of Hostage, I recently got some shit from them. I didn’t hear the new Duane/ Hunns band, but heard his new pride, the Spooky. I wanted to check them out, being a huge TSOL, 45 Grave, Misfits fan, but was really disappointed. These characters dress like the Misfits, and have songs about eating flesh and monster mobs. The music isn’t bad, but it’s a sorry scheme to get dudes like me to pick up this sorry cover having, silly record. I hate this band. They miss the point that horror type stuff is more about Bauhaus and less about their attempts to pick up girls. Fuck em’. I also got the debut by the Mike Lohrman(Stitches) produced Numbers. Another bad band name, by a band trying to sound like the Stitches. It makes sense that Lohrman would produce this. It’s like his band, but they do the work and he can just tell them what to do. The problem is though, unlike the Stitches, they have very little talent. Weak songs, great production. I wonder though, if this band is compiled of older dudes that Rick from Hostage and Mike know. They seem really excited about this release, but if it’s a new discovery, I’d calm right down, and turn my attention to Long Beach, California- home of Le Shok. I ordered the s/t 12". It took a while to hunt one down, and a bit to finally get it (Thanks Pat Pelado), so forgive me, but two months from now, I’ll tell you the same shit- this is wonderful, dashing, knifing, inspired music. This record fucks me up. I haven’t heard a new record since the Smogtown 10" that did me like this did me. Certainly, this is not even a similar band to Smogtown, but to me, it’s exactly the same- music to choke to. If you have the guts, scream, and let this be your soundtrack. Le Shok have a very distorted mid 80’s sound to their brand of punk. By that, I mean it sounds like one of those tapes someone gave you by a band that nobody’s ever heard of and for a reason- too good and challenging. Keyboard unheavy, but it’s there, a quick pace- simply, get it, and give it one. One of those listens. Anybody that knows anything will love this, but on the negative- these lyrics sometimes fall into that area of trying to be creative but end up being dumb. Not Angry Samoans dumb either. The music though, is fast drums, with in and out, looping effectual guitars, a sparseness then mixed with cacophony, and pleading vocals. This record is 12" of pain, violence, technology, dying youth, dirty sex, and brain orgasms stuffed into plastic. It rules. Fuck man, I’m ready to go on, but I can’t get out of California. DeadBeat Records is a cool label. Buy the new Viva la Vinyl comp (The Cock Spaniels are on it, heh), but don’t buy the Safety Pins 12". Save your money for the comp. I’m not being positive or negative about this, but I bought some records and I’m going to tell you about them, end of tale. More than any of this though, get in touch with Sound Idea in Florida, and get the Faction retrospective. I forgot what a killer SoCal punk rock band that was. Steve Caballero does it. The Faction blows away JFA. The Faction blows away everything I’ve heard this month. Ok, now we’re going out of Cali. Yeah, I think so.

Midwest secrets, and Saturday night dreams- the fucking Socials have a CD- CD’s nuts. I’m really happy about this. I would rather not go on and on about this. This is a 5-song CD. This is 5 songs by band you’ve probably never heard of. This is 5 songs by a band you’ve never heard of, that you should’ve head of. This is 5 songs by a band that you’ve never heard of that you should’ve heard of but you didn’t hear of because you’re a rat. Let me explain. People who live in New York and California have this thing. Folks who are from the United States, which doesn’t really have much to do with New York City or California (Or Florida for that matter (thank goodness)), don’t realize a few simple issues. They feel that the Midwest is hell, some sort of wasteland that has nothing to offer, and for that, I feel sorry for them. I’m not a greaser, or this or that, but I’m a half faggot kid from Northeastern Ohio, but not proper like Cleveland or anything. I’m from Youngstown, Ohio- this is a place that GG would request to play. I’m from a place where the Deer Hunter was filmed (The bowling scene for one took place in Struthers, Ohio, a town that was essentially a ghetto for Italians and Europeans). Where I live in Springfield Township right now, I live with a father who was a pretty good player on the Kent State basketball squad in 1969. I shit you not. While kids were getting shot, he was conflicting with CSN&Y, or hoops. He quit the team. This was a different era though, and they allowed him to finish school. He became an English teacher eventually, and began coaching basketball. This was the late ‘70’s. I remember those days fondly, because these kids on his team introduced me to this punk rock business. They didn’t lay it down like that though. Just John Cougar and Ramones.

My mom ran a ballet school since jr. high, and was busy with that and her teaching degree. They moved to this area, though my dad was from Marion, Ohio, outside of Columbus. Outside in those days, and these days as far as Marion is concerned, does not mean/ did not mean suburb. It meant ity biddy shitty city. The white ghettos that these places still are, but now they have minorities and a Wal-Mart. Whatever. Hold on- I’m gonna’ listen to Cougar for a sec- ain’t even done with the night. Yes, the John Cougar record with Edith Massey on the cover. God, I love John Cougar. Not Mellancamp so much, but I love it all anyhow. And that bald drummer of his, the Skeeter Ulrich to the Johnny Depp that is the Boss’ Max Weinberg. He’s Jewish, and that usually doesn’t pertain to out Midwest talks, though the kid that put out 3 of the greatest Midwest punk record of the latter 90’s is a Jewish. Tom Perkins records can be contacted through WorldWide Punk, or me to get Piranhas and Clone Defects records. If you’re still reading this you must respect Detroit, and this is the new sound of the Midwest wasteland with proper thunder. Detroit is almost hilarious. Being from Youngstown, Ohio (Like I said, bitch), I always aligned our town with Detroit. Steel and cars and travesty and waste. What I never realized is that our suburbs are not the affluent suburbs that are the Detroit suburbs. They don’t make cars in Detroit. They make those motherfuckers in the suburbs- believe that. Then the suburbs of where they make the business are two hours from downtown Detroit proper. Amazing.

But my mom, anyway, runs an Italian style ballet school out here in the middle of nowhere. To me, it really fucking figures. She used to be a teacher, and now she still teaches girls, but those who wanna’ know. She teaches, but you gotta’ earn it. My dad is now a superintendent of schools. I’m the oldest of 3 boys. I know you’re feelin’ bad cause my mom had three boys and I’m the gayest one- and no girls. One’s a Marine, one’s an aeronautical engineering student, and I’m a motherfucker. That’s right. The end of the story. DeNiro and Walken and the crew were driving around out where I live in Springfield Township getting some extra shots. This was in the late 70’s when no one knew of these people. While driving around they had to take pisses. They saw my mom’s little business out here and stopped in and asked to take pisses. I’m sure they worded it nicer than that, though. I think that’s pretty cool.

Southern Ohio is not of my area of expertise. I know that it’s a very German area. With that, I will tell you- when in Cincinnati, eat hot dogs. Skyline is good, but the little places are better- chili. That is a wonderful town for chili. And other things that you don’t know about. Tunnels Under the City is a song. It’s a song by the Socials. It’s about things that they didn’t know about their own city- there’s tunnels under it. It might be the best song I’ve ever heard. I’m not gonna’ suck dick or pussy. Just send them $2 or $5(I just mean send them something fair and they’ll send you a copy) for the Socials U Dance U Die CD. That’s all I have to express really. You don’t know shit about us. About them- you don’t know shit. This will help you learn things that might help you as a person. Learning is good. Socials- PO Box 18051 Fairfield, Ohio 45018.

The end- get the new Get Back Dils and Rotters stuff. I’d go on about it, but it would bore me. Sit on my Face Stevie Nicks. That’s great. Mick Fleetwood actually took the time to try to get that single banned. Probably the only reason you’ve heard of this band. The funny thing is that at the time he was probably making it out like he didn’t like disrespect towards women, but he really didn’t like disrespect towards Stevie whom he was porking. This is my outer crust theory, but my real theory is that he did it to help promote the hype so no one would catch on to the fact that the cheating was in the area that he was ass fucking Lindsay Buckingham. Don’t get me wrong, I think Fleetwood- Mac is awesome, but faggots. In their career before Stevie and, uh, Lindsay, they did pen "Somebody’s Gonna’ Get Their Head Kicked In Tonight". I’m not shitting you. This was made a bit more popular by the Rezillos, but the real version of this number is by the Bishops. This is an old British band I know little about, except I think the started or ended calling themselves the Count Bishops. That stuff sucks. The 10" though, is gruff voiced, and I mean really gruff voiced AC/ DC influenced… I don’t know. Some sort of hard rock, pre oi, ass kicking business. I’m drunk. One bottle of vodka later, I crap out. Sorry for the wait, but I’ll see you all in a month.

Remember, I want to be attacked. I want attacking letters. Send them to blank gen or me- they will be printed and answered in this column. The fluff letters I receive last month I will not condescend to print except that I will say this- I’ve met all my friends in Ohio through punk rock. Ohio, and punk rock, and the Cleveland Browns- that’s what I’m all about. Anyway(s)(That is an Ohio "s" that you wouldn’t get), I get a letter from a dude that was knowing about fucked up dogs and stuff. He was saying his dad was a vet and he used to have to help deal with that shit and such, and I met someone (though not really met, but computers baby) that was "fillin’"(aka= white guy= feeling), at least sympathetic to the fact that my injured puppy has been a real focus for me. He was Pat the Jerk. He’s nice. You people all suck cock and I demand hate mail because you’re faggot motherfuckers, shit eater, sons a bitches, and I will hate you all until the day I die. Send me a letter assholes. Although only white boys would be reading by now.

Don’t Forget the Joker,

xxxoooKenny

PS- Rock Action zine will be free from now on, but we’re looking for ads from all races. This will pay for it. We sold 500 of the last issue.