Seriously, The Privates?

Sorry, bros, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t talk some shit about the Privates real quick. I never paid those dudes much mind back when they were supposed to be the shit around town, and damn if that position didn’t get validated Saturday night. For the uninitiated, hearing a Privates set is basically the musical equivalent of reading a dog-eared People magazine while you wait for your doctor to finish feeling up the old dude whose appointment preceded yours. Their music is both familiar and bland, polished and boring as hell. You keep waiting for them to do something you don’t expect, as if you’re about to turn the page of the magazine and all of a sudden find a picture of Screech crapping on somebody, but it just never happens.

Whatever, man. Maybe when you’re just a part-time band you end up being so busy trying to remember each other’s names that you don’t have any tyme left to get good ideas about how your songs should go.

Grand Palace boozin'

You guys know Chike, the drummer from Spider Virus? Brace yourselves, men, and don't ask me how I know what his back tastes like (balls/the ocean).

This ain’t Taytyme...it’s 00AsianDisco.

Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle if this ain’t the easiest blog to break into in the entire “internet.” Now I’ve tried my share of illegal activity on this here computer but this break-in takes the cake.

Let me tell you a story about a girl named “erin” and a city called “New York.” Now “erin” happened to be groovin’ to some cheesy pop music at this bar downtown when she discovered a secret room in the basement next to the bathroom. There were some crazy strobe lights shining into the hallway with that come-hither look that one could hardly resist. In a trance, “erin” along with a few friends investigated the situation only to find, to their amazement and delight, that this room was filled with disco music and neon lights, and it had the star of David painted on the dance floor. Yes. The Star of David.

I know what you’re thinking. THIS IS THE BEST PARTY EVER! But alas, the second “erin” started chanting “Go David, go David!” the lights suddenly turned off and the music came to a screeching halt.

Well I’ll be damned. “Erin” looked through the darkness only to find a pair of old Asian men telling her to please leave the bar. “Erin” proceeded to tell them in her calmest shout that the asian disco was over when she said it was over.

Well, that was that. Someone (I won’t name names) got kicked out, only to find comfort in that ever-so-faithful pizzeria Rosario’s where her tradition of comedic bulimia will live to see another day.

High Technology

Here's a camera phone picture from Rock and Roll poker night. Yes, that's Stevie Ray Vaughn and Roger Waters getting peed on.

Man, if you weren’t at the shit-rock fest that went down at the End last night, you were in the majority. But don’t look so smug, asshole, because you also didn’t get a chance to go to Dean’s house afterwards for some real-life Rock and Roll poker. You know how everything Dean owns came from eBay, including his car, his toothbrush, his jeans, and his flesh-light? Well he recently hit the mother load, and he deemed last night a special enough occasion to share his bounty with our fair city’s rock elite.

What Dean had procured were several unopened packs of “Rockcards” manufactured in 1991. Rockcards are exactly what you think they are. Like baseball cards with rock dudes on them. On the front of a card is a picture of a long-haired guy with his name on a banner and his band’s logo in the upper right corner. Turn the card over and you find another photo and some stats. For instance, Chuck Billy of Testament was born on June 23, a day no doubt referred to in his home town of Dublin, California as “Chuck Billy Day.” Check out his profile: “Testament’s Chuck Billy stalks the stage like a bull in a china shop. His shaggy mane of hair covering his face, his tall body practically dwarfing his bandmates, Billy virtually demands attention as he preaches out Testament’s power-riffed songs. He says his primary motivation these days is to ‘play in front of anyone, anywhere.’” I KNOW. Wow.

So Dean would shuffle the deck and deal each of us five cards, out of which we were to form the best possible super trio. Things got out of hand, dudes got drunker, and the definition of “trio” was stretched pretty far. Here’s a summary of the last round of the nyte:

Josh from the Squibs had Chris Slade of the “Razor’s Edge” era AC/DC on drums, Cliff Williams on bass, David Bryan of Bon Jovi on keys, and Cinderella’s Tom Keefer on vocals.

Larry J. Slimfast came correct with Tommy Lee on drums, Dana Strum of Slaughter on bass and backing vocals, Angus Young and Dave the Snake Sabo on double lead guitar, and Alice Cooper as the front man.

Taytyme himself was an early leader with his no-guitar guitar band. It was Vince Neil, Mark Slaughter, and Jani Lane on lead vocals, with two Cozy Powells on the drums.

Ft. Lauderdale Smith must’ve dealt himself some extras, cause he had Mick Mars on lead, Tony Iommi on rhythm, Cliff Williams on bass, Tico Torres on drums, David Bryan on keys, Ray Thomas of the Moody Blues on flute, and Pink Floyd on vocals.

But it was Mason from Ole Mossy Face who was the night’s undisputed champion. His band was fronted by Andrew Eldritch of the Sisters of Mercy, accompanied by Rob McKillop of Exodus on bass, two Jerry Dixons in shorts on another bass, and the rest of Exodus.