Berea, Ohio Rocked to the Core Last Night

The venue for the most highly anticipated comeback show this year!!!

Johnny A. on the kit. And a guest appearance from our seventh grade French teacher (class of '88-'89) Chris Reynolds.

Also of great import is the strategic positioning of the chalkboard with the word 'coleslaw' at all Exception shows.

And you may not be able to tell, but that's the Slayer logo with the eagle and the upside-down cross and pentacle on the bass drum...Yeah, these guys are low-key jammin' Satanists.

Cassidy on the old red Strat. Matt P. on vocals. Notice the Living Colour 'Stain' tour t-shirt circa 1988...

Trent on bass, Trent on bass. That's my nephew Roman kickin' it in the foreground.

The Exception jams out for the first official performance in almost fifteen years. The front of the dance floor was reserved for the most hardcore Exception fans - the three year olds!

Mid 90's Flashback Night

Fucking fabulous.
The Exception is playing a reunion show tonight in downtown Berea. Who are the Exception? Well, if you went to Berea High School in the early 90's, the Exception were like the Beatles of BHS bands. They haven't played together in an 'official' capacity in about ten years, but tonight they're regrouping to support the crappy Berea City School District levy. Now since I was real good friends with some of these guys back at BHS and I went to tons of Exception shows in high school, I can't bring myself to miss this rare opportunity to see four old buds play together for the first time in a long time.

Tomorow I'll have pics up and I'll se if I can score some old pics of the The Exception from the wayback super-groovy time machine...

Between all the witty banter with customers and technical wine analysis, Frank finds time to pose thoughtfully with his favourite new bottle of wine.
He'll have you know that's a 2003 Crozes-Hermitage from Domaine Colombier. Stunning. Simply stunning.

Upper-Crust Wine Steward

Some days selling wine is difficult. Some days not so.
I went to Hudson to the much ballyhooed Heinen's Fresh Market to sell some wine to my boy Frank, the wine guy there. I found him out on the back loading dock huffing cancers...And as a union guy, he's entitled to a certain amount of time per day to share with his Camels.

What could this be? A commode for the elven?

After my quality time with the wine steward, Teresa, who works for a rival wine outfit, came in to sell yet more wine to poor young Frank. Then we decided to not do a goddamn thing more and take Frank to lunch.

Frank spent the entire lunch hour in deep contemplation concerning his fine wine program. "How do we get these stupid near-Clevelanders to buy more French wine?"

No, really we sat around and ate pizza at San Francisco Oven. Pretty good chain pizza. It's like they ripped off the Panera bread model and applied it to a pizza joint.

After lunch and a short stop at the office, I met up with my old friend Dave at the Buckeye Bewing. I drank Reissdorf Kolsch on draft. Dave drank the '76 IPA.

Dan drank Alt.

Not one of the tougher days I've had at work, but it'a job that simply must be done...

The Devil Took the Moonshine and the Mountain Boy That Day...

So I got to thinking about crime and money. We all know crime doesn't pay these days. You can't embezzle shit. The feds are always one step ahead of you when it comes to e-crime. No counterfeiting, hacking, breaking, entering, eco-terrorism, or identity theft is safe from dang prosecution nowadays.
But what about bootlegging?
No, I don't mean buying bottles of Lafite out the back door of the winery and trying to turn a buck. I mean back hills, down home, boot scootin', Cannonball Runnin', Thunder Road bootleggin'!!
Who the hell really makes hooch out in a still in the barn just to rumble it across fuckin' Hatfield's Gulch and through Pine Tar Hollow in a rusty '56 Chrysler? Nobody, that's who...
So I think the future of crime is, well, Devo.
Ya gotta commit crimes that are so far out of date, so long past relevant, and generally not recognized as valid forms of criminal activity now. You could probably bootleg top-grade rotgut with impunity. Right past flippin' city hall all day.
In fact, come to think of it maybe the future would be a 'micro-hoochery'. Imagine small-batch firewater aged gracefully in hills cut into a Smoky Mountain cliffside. Imagine packin' up the back of old pappy's Nash Rambler with wooden boxes and gettin' ready to haul yer 8000 pound deathtrap across gravel backroads, hick'ry dotted hilltops, and random hillbilly junctions for midnight jollies at the backwater speakeasy with forties whores and sassy flappers galore.
Or did I just ruin my new retirement plan cuz I can't keep my trap shut...?

The Grizz My Nizz

The Weber Grill Company has a commercial running now and they ask you to go to their website and write a witty story about your favorite Weber memory. I figured screw that, I'll blog this bitch myself.
This here's my five year old royal blue eighteen and a half inch Weber 'One Touch Gold' charcoal kettle. She's built for speed, my friend...and aero-dynamicisity. Notice the fine billet aluminum ash catcher with the smooth-glide handle for quick airflow adjustment. Check the still intact white plastic foot which acts as a brake against the mad torque produced by the high density rear wheels. Notice the shelf below for stowage of helmets and whatnot. This bitch can cook, old pal. You better beleive it.

I'll have you notice the special hook lid-mounted internally so as to allow easy graspage of the side of the grill thereby rendering it unnecessary to lay the dome on the ground.
We're vegetarians (with the occasional foray into fish) so we've never gotten more meaty than the occasional piece of salmon on the grill. My brother did once cook some Giant Eagle porterhouses to charred perfection on this mighty cooktop.
Her most high and mighty achievement was probably one Thanksgiving where we cooked two aluminum-wrapped Tofurkeys side-by-side using the vaunted 'Indirect Heat' method. One has never tasted a juicier, tenderer, more soy-turkey-licious creation than that Thanksgiving feast. Just for a moment, we all were Pilgrims...

The newest in coal ingnition. If you still use the 'pyramid' method and traditional lighter fuel, you are so, so out of touch with the new uber-reality of grilling...
And get yourself a case of Blatz returnables for heaven's sake!!

gratis delicatus

The remnants of the racing graphics package still top the dome lid. Special thanks to Delicato, the producer of insipid and fairly homogenous California grocery store wines. Without the fine in-store displays of Delicato, I'd not have been able to score myself a no-charge grill. Thank you, big crappy wine conglomerate.

When the graphic wears off, I'm going to get a stencil of Calvin pissing on a Char Broil brand grill!!

Foot to Foot, Face to Face

Yeah, I know it looks strangely like a computer generated futuristic donkey, but that there is a true, honest to God Filibuster. Unleash one of these lean, mean buggers in the Capitol Rotunda and watch your Democratic process come to a grinding halt. Once you get this little jackass fired up, he ain't gonna stop. Those choppers rip the Representative right out of our Republic. Ya can't go past the Filibuster without getting yerself a new asshole ripped. Ya sure ain't goin' around that badass. And you betcha, he's stubborn as stubborn gets. Let loose this shifty fuck and he'll make it his life's goal to clog up the works, defile the medoicre integrity of our elected representatives, and generally sink his teeth into anyone that dares question his ass.
Two hundred years of tradition, my hoof!
Those mule drivers act like the motherfuckin' Zax who met face to face in the Prairie of Prax. What's so liberating about being a liberal these days?
Now get out there and Rock the Vote.
...Sorry, there is no vote...

This here's a Filibuster, Pardner.

Bolton Insults Pope Benedict XVI with his own 'anunciation'...What a Prick.  

Inaugural Post: Blastin' Bolton

I have to raise a strenuous objection to the nomination of Michael Bolton as the US Ambassador to the United Nations. I mean, simply because a man possesses a soulful, mellow, slightly scratchy voice does not a diplomat make. For heck's sake, this is the guy who wrote and sang classics like 'Forever Isn't Long Enough' and 'You Don't Want Me Bad Enough'.
Now I know that this handsomely pony-tailed chanteur looks like the ideal foil to the likes of Wang Guang Ya of China and Iran's Javad Zarif, but one must dig deeper. Rumors abound that Bolton is abusive to his bandmates and touring staff, and that he feels the need to micromanage every aspect of his performance. Do we really need an ambassador whose songs toe such a hard line between brute stubbornness and downright ornery defiance? From the Nihilist dirge that is 'How Am I Supposed to Live Without You' to the horrifically offensive 'Said I Loved You, But I Lied' this Bolton character manages to offend and repel any remaining allies the United States may have.
The mantra for the United States these days should be DON'T PISS ANYBODY OFF! And with all due respect Michael Bolton, you truly piss people off. You are a danger to the country and to the modern world. Your flippant ways could very well make a vengeful monster out of even the most debonair statesman. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if it were a man like you, Mr. Bolton who might just cause the demise of humanity. You and George W. Bush, of course...

And how does Bolton respond to this?

"Why me, why me, why me, why me
Help me understand just what you've done to me
'Cause I'm the richest man that I could ever be
Tell me why, tell me why, baby"

Honestly, is this the man we can trust with his finger on the button? I encourage you to call or write your state Senators and ask them to vote NO for the appointment of Michael Bolton as Ambassador to the UN...