Castor Oil...sickeningly good

Monday, October 31, 2005

Cowards in the White House

The demonic freaks on Pennsylvania Avenue have hit a new low. As we all know I have taken great joy and glee in watching the ongoing destruction of the inhabitants of the tower of lunacy that have been busy swirling the country down the shitter. I wish that it never came to this, that all of these retards were still giving the Saudis handjobs under the table at the Park Hyatt in private sector work, but it is what it is so as they collapse I revel. It's a simple equation and just a new chapter in the the epic struggle of good (sexy me) and evil (unsexy them). I have to expect that they'll come after me in revenge as that's just the drill for celestial warriors engaged in epic battle like myself. I have long since girded my loins for just such an event and my talismic war hammer is ever primed and at the ready.

(Cue epic German heavy metal Sturm und drang soundtrack).

But they are wily that bunch and instead of engaging in bloody conflict have elected to attack me in as underhanded and insidious way as possible. What a bunch of pussies!!!! I say let's strap on the leather body armor and chain-mail vestments and get to it on the Rainbow Bridge that leads to Asgard but noooo.......

Recent events have shown it's apparent that instead of using their dark powers of retribution against my manly self for the linguistic arrows I have shot into their misshapen foreheads the witch doctors on the other side have taken aim at those close to me who they might seem as less mighty. Now I realize that I carry an intimidating frame and demeanor and being cowardly by nature they're apt to skulk after those that they see as an easier target. It's the nature of the cowardly wizard to do so and I guess I should have seen it coming but mea culpa I was too busy checking out my hair to look in that direction.

Y'see I took a couple (not even particularly inspired or amusing really) shots at the lack of brain trust residing in 1600 last Friday. I recall that I suggested that it would be great to see their leaders get cornholed by a Latino prison gang. (OK, that bit was a touch inspired.....) Less than 48 hours later after an apparent blood sacrifice of either a small farm animal one of Jeb Bush's drugged out offspring to raise the evil spirits that they fellate religiously the following dark events occurred:

My eldest progeny took a close range shot to the face from a soccer ball an Amazonian ten year old drilled at her. The countenance of the devil himself could be seen leering from this ridiculously oversized spawn of the circle of Hell known as Loudoun County. The ball flew off her hoof like a rocket and I'm pretty sure I heard the devil dog shriek, "UNLEASH HELL!!!!" as it kicked the ball towards my dear #1. Some other parents were sure that the demon really said, OMIGOD I'M SORRY", but they don't have performance tuned ears and a keen awareness of evil like I do. My darling dear hit the ground like a shot and a tear fell from her eye but she got right up and went back in the game performing heroically despite the pain in her nose and her ponytail being slightly askew. Take that Scott McLellan, you're the shittiest underlord of darkness EVER!!!!!

At the same game the Mrs. got stung on the hand by a bee causing significant discomfort and swelling. Undaunted she went shopping and today looks about as lovely as I have ever seen her. Hey Cheney, better luck next time you sissy!!!!

Later yesterday afternoon the dog was possessed by a berserker fury and while tearing up and down the living room stairs ran over the younger progeny resulting in her little pink clad self smashing into the wall and banging her adorable little head. The demon quickly left the dog's soul and she was back to her wonderfully docile and stupid self, licking away her misdeeds and making peace with the bambina. Way to go George, picking on a baby. Didn't get you too far did it? I should expect more from the leader of the undead minions but after seeing your post-Katrina speech I'm beginning to think you're really losing it.

While they might be stupid, they might be raw evil, they might be vacant and vapid and married to the pug ugliest women in the hemisphere those freaks in the White House do have some powerful black magic at their disposal. But to no avail, my girlies are tough as nails and cute as pie and have taken the shots sent their way admirably and risen above.

So fuck you and your ju-ju stick Mr. Rove. All your grass skirt prancing and disemboweling of Oxy addled offspring won't bring us down. We're tough in pink and ready for battle.

I'm going to take a break now and go polish my war hammer.

Friday, October 28, 2005

One down so many to go

See ya Scooter, don't let that cell door hit you in the ass. HAHA!

I think it's sad that it took six fucking years for someone in the administration to get slapped around for lying. Maybe this will be a trend but somehow I doubt it. I would love to see Rove go to prison hand-in-hand with Scooter. I wonder how that smug little smirk will go over with Maurice Thundercock in cell block eight. I say line em' all up....Delay, Rove, Frist, Libby and let the gravy train begin. Elevate the terror alert to code red on their buttholes!!!!!! Sure it'll never happen but a boy can dream, (although the fact that I'm dreaming about a bunch of old rich ugly white dudes getting bent over by the Los Locos Diablos prison gang disturbs me a bit).

Somewhere I bet Bill Clinton is smiling at the day's events, probably while getting a lapdance.

I just saw Bush's little press conference about how much he loves Scooter Libby and all the great things he did for America like lying his ass off and getting a bunch of us killed over in Iraq for nothing . Things must be really bad for the Prez as he has re-adopted the Lee Marvin cowboy voice of 2001 and campaign days and is making assertive pronouncements about "protecting America" instead of being the least bit forthcoming about what a fucking trainwreck the last few weeks have been for the White House. What a dick. I'm waiting for him to climb up on a rock and pull out his bullhorn to get the full effect of the last time he was worth half a shit. The karma train seems to be revving up a bit....choo choo!!!!

One more totally hysterical political comment and then I'll stop.

Harriet Meiers.

Yuk yuk.

In other news I'm in San Fran. It's really beautiful here aside from the huge number of homeless folks, used condoms on the sidewalk and sizable workforce of extremely vocal hookers that congregate underneath the window of my hotel room at night. Apparently Latonya can do things with her mouth that will take one's breath away, at least that's what she claims to the passersby.

I gave a brilliant opinion on the death of the indie record store for DCist. Click away and revel in my genius.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005


The show rocked well.

I have lots to tell but little time right now to tell it.

Ali baba was here for three days and that was good times. We're not too skilled at scratching off scratch off tickets. Have heard myself on the radio and boy does my hair sound good in that medium.

From what I hear I did the Jesus Christ pose somewhere in the middle of the set. Well....when you have beautiful arms and a hyper developed chest like I do it's to be expected.

I tried to pawn off this goddamn ice cream maker that has taken nest in my freezer but got no takers.

Time to eat.

Be sexy.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Scenes from the bar part whatever

I stopped by the bar up the street Monday night to pick up some health food, (cheesesteaks), and got the lowdown from the regular morons of what they thought of Vince, Tom Cruise’s character in “The Color of Money” which they were affixed to.

"Can you believe that punk? I'd never put up with that shit!!!! What kind of a fucking moron wears his name on a shirt like that" (This statement delivered by Jack. I knew it was Jack because the patch on his shirt said Jack.)

"Thet boy thar needs a right ass-whuppin"

“Fast Eddie should just leave thet boy and give the Balbushka to the girl!!!” Uproarious laughter…..

"I can't believe my wife lock me out of house again..fuck. She never like this when we lived in Korea. What fuck….hey Boob you good man, you buy me drink….wife take all my money……why she do that…..never that way in Korea"

This comment by a crazy looking Korean guy with a gray ponytail, cheap suit and red sneakers opens a whole new line of conversation by the idiots who haven’t seen a woman outside of a TV set, this bar, or a very crusty magazine since the 60’s about how to handle women. For some reason the yokels have given the drunk Korean guy the nickname “Shooter” which makes the whole thing even slightly more surreal and ridiculous than it would be if they called him by his real name, Lan. Shooter, or Lan, gave me his credit card one night when he was so drunk he walked behind the bar and seeing me on the other side just assumed I was the bartender and told me, “hurry man…..I think I’m getting too straight!!” (Uproarious laughter).

That’s how I learned he had a name other than Shooter. From the credit card. When he thought I was the bartender. Anyway….

Tom Cruise quickly forgotten as their favorite subject – WHAT THE FUCK I WOULD DO IF I WAS YOU – was now on the table. The conversation was flying pretty fast and pretty drunk so I could possibly be attributing dialogue to the wrong characters. Not that it matters really, they’re all pretty much the same broken husk of a man idiotic assholes at the core. Some of them just dress worse than others.

Boob – Shooter you gotta get that woman IN LINE!!!!
Shooter – I know Boob I know…but what fuck……what do I say…
Boob – SAY?!??! You don’t have to say shit Shooter, Is it your house?
Shooter – Well we buy together…
Boob – BOOSHIT…..If your name’s on the title she’s got no right to lock you out of your own house.
Shooter – I know Boob, that’s what I say!
Jack – I’d bust the fuck in right there
Shooter – Why I have to break into my own house?
Jack - Well you sure as shit ain’t sleeping at my house!!!!…..Uproarious laughter……..
Slim – Bitch locks me out my house I’m gonna go the fuck off and you can bet I won’t be locked out for long.
Joey – Not locked out….but locked the FUCK UP!!!!!
Slim – (looking murderous) Jail ain’t no damn thing to me no how…..jezz'n excuse to take some days off work!!! …..Uproarious laughter…….
Jack – Call the fucking PoLease…have them throw her in jail and then see how tough she is.
Shooter – Why jail? I don’t want her arrest..I just want back in house.
Joey – That’s the fucking problem with all this bullshit, woman locks you out and thar ain’t shit you can do that won’t get YOUR ass thrown in jail. All this shit about what the fuck you can say to your wife and shit….THAT’S MY BUSINESS BETWEEN ME AND HER!!!!!
Shooter – I just want go home, maybe she upset or angry or….
Boob – G. ZUS CHRIST SHOOTER!!!! You can’t go back there like a whipped puppy. You have to show her who’s boss!!!!
Shooter – I try Boob….I don’t understand…she never like this in Korea….(gets very emotional)
Slim – What the fuck…..
Boob – Aw for the love of Christ…Shane (bartender) get this man a shot of something on me.…

Bartender knowing that Boob is full of shit about paying for someone else’s drink ignores the call for the shot……

Shooter – You good man Boob.
Shooter – Thank you Boob

At that point my food was ready so I hit the road. I’m assuming Shooter drove home piss ass drunk and either slept on the lawn or his wife called the cops on him. From what I can discern she’s tweaked because he doesn’t work and instead of finding a job he sits at the bar with Boob and the gang all day watching Hunter on TVLand and soaking up redneck American culture. What a bitch!!!!!!

One day according to Alex the bartender (of all the days not to be there) she came storming into the bar and dragged Shooter out cussing out the idiots all the while. Not surprisingly they didn’t say a word back, just sat there looking down and drinking in their own eventual death and misery, inwardly wishing they had some crazy bitch of their own to yell at them.

It would be really sad if they all weren’t so goddamn loathsome. I could feel sorry for them but mostly I wish they would just drink bleach and die. Today is chicken wings special day so I maybe I’ll head up for lunch and see how Shooter is doing. Him I actually do feel sorry for. Poor Lan. He's like Axl Rose getting off the bus at the beginning of the "Welcome to the Jungle" video only instead of Izzy Stradlin trying to sell him drugs he stumbled into to Dante's 47th circle of idiocy and not knowing any better figured this was a good place to make some friends.
No matter how much time he spends there they'll never really like him, being that he's...y'know...not UmurriKan. But when you're that level of desperate even people you despise are better than no people at all.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Bitch set me up.....a White Russian!!

From the AP by way of the Washington Post -

Emergency DUI Bill Passes D.C. Council
Associated PressTuesday, October 18, 2005; 1:06 PM

The D.C. Council this afternoon passed an emergency measure clarifying the drunken driving laws in the District. Under the bill, anyone with a blood alcohol level under .05 is not presumed to be intoxicated. Those with blood alcohol levels between .05 and .08 are in what council member Carol Schwartz (R-At Large) described as a neutral zone, meaning they're not presumed to be either intoxicated or sober.

The measure passed on a 9-to-3 vote, with Marion Barry absent.

I'm just assuming Marion was doing research into the issue at Camelot. Or Good Guys. Or possibly both. Good work D.C. Council!!!!!!

Monday, October 17, 2005

Spirit of the Radio

We sat around the dining room table getting bombed and listening to our interview on DC 101’s Local Lix show last night. It was fun to hear myself jibbering and jabbering away and sounding wholly pretentious and wonderful on the station that played the first Ratt song that I ever heard. Oh the memories. My hair looks beautiful on radio by the way…'s really something.

On top of that we got a nice little spot in the Washington Post's Sunday Source yesterday about the Saturday’s CD release show at
Iota (nudge nudge wink wink). Other than the fact that the accompanying photo was of me the best part was the statement that the band is "led" by me. Finally the media giants are getting with the damn program and giving me some of the respect that I deserve. It's about damn time.

I've been thinking of this leadership thing and have come to the conclusion that in the band I'm kind of like Dutch in Predator and my mateys in the Prophets are my team of highly skilled rock and roll assassins. Oh wait.."we're a rock and roll band…not assassins" I forgot the proper Predator syntax. But back to point……

Philito is like Dillon, (what's the matter Dillon…the
Bad Habit have you pushing too many pencils?), Trey is Billy Bear and the jury is out on whether Ben is Blain or Anna. Ben doesn't talk a whole lot so it's tough to get a read on him regarding stuff like this. I'm waiting for him to break out with some profound statement like, "This stuff will make you a god damned sexual Tyrannosaurus, just like me!" to cement his Blain-ness. As of yet he has not done so, nor has he gotten hysterical and jabbered in Spanish about the "jungle coming alive", so the jury is out. Hell, maybe he'll come out of left field and turn out to be our own personal Pancho Ramirez. I'll keep you posted.

Obviously when you have a team of killers you have to kill something, i.e. the Predator, so I have been thinking about whom best fills that role in the jungle de los Pharmacy Prophets. It has to be ugly and evil and wholly without conscience, a ruthless killer that subjugates others to fill its enormous ego. Obviously (duh) we're all battling
Mikey Holden and his, "CHECK ME OUT I'M GOING TO STAB YOU WITH MY LANCE", mentality when it comes to his place in the local music scene and his supposed open license to transport around the town disemboweling innocent emo rockers, (not that that's a bad thing overall but you have to have some decorum and due process to the slaughter otherwise societal madness and a resurgence of Limp Bizkit are sure to follow).

So we must kill him. For you, for us, for Anna and the rest of the open micers slaughtered at the gorilla camp.

Sure the deck is stacked against us, he's got ownership of his metro music board and WAMA and his tooty-fruity skinhead psycho mental patient haircut and that is an impressive arsenal to go up against but if it bleeds, (and I've seen him bleed…he is susceptible to paper cuts) we can kill it..him…whatever.

He's ornery and elusive but he is drawn to the conflict so I know where things are going down. Come out and see the final battle royale this Saturday at Iota. If you want to buy me a beer I'll be hiding behind a wall of mud back by the cigarette machine. ]


Pharmacy Prophets CD release for "Pan Into the Grayscale"Saturday, 10/22 at Iota.w/ the
Alphabetical Order and Run Silent Run Deep .
2832 Wilson Boulevard

Monday, October 10, 2005

Well that "tuck rule" call just confirms it

There is no God.

Sunday, October 09, 2005


Go Gregg williams. I'm beginning to think you're Jesus.

And Ade Jimoh might just be an apostle?!?!?!??!?!?!

GO BABY GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

C'mon you dickholes!!!

Come on can win this game.

I believe!!!!

We have Jesus on our side, c'mon Jesus.....BLOCK!!!!!!!!

Friday, October 07, 2005

Son of heh heh heh

Haha. So the deleted comment from yesterday relating to the post on the other blog about Philito read-

"Hello, I am said dickhole. You're pretty good at writing comedy. Too bad you can't write good music. Suburban dad rock is never going to sell. But the hilariously comical memoirs of a never has been never will be failed musician could make millions.

Think about it...while you're fucking all the way off you ginormous fucking vagina."

It's a shame he punked out and deleted it right after he posted it. Luckily I get all the comments via email so I have a record of all the pithy commentary sent my way. That's a pretty hot course of action though. Think about it...the magnificent level of pussery it takes to not only talk shit anonymously on the internet but to take it to the level where you have to delete your own anonymous shit talk right after you post it. Awesome!!!

This SonOfSolace guy has been anonymously pulling on my trouser leg since the band got started, sending me nasty emails and the like every few months. He used to get into it with my old bass player Jeff and did the ever badass threatening via email to kick his ass and stuff. That's tough to do from behind a keyboard though so Jeff never got the thrashing of his life as promised. What a letdown. Jeff's a total masochist so he was looking forward to it.

I could go on for days about the inherent comedy in a guy that calls himself Son of Solace. Just how many Friday nights spent playing MAGICK THE GATHERING and rubbing yourself out to Dolph Lundgren barbarian movies does it take to make that sound cool?

Back to the mattaer at hand(job), I love the "Suburban Dad Rock" part of the comment. Like I'm going to get my feelings all bent out of shape about the fact that I have kids and own a house.

"OH NO!!!! Now that my secret is out the roundheads that iPod DJ at Cafe' Saint Ex will never respect me no matter how tight my Iron Maiden t-shirt is!!! I can never show my face in the Red Room at the Black Cat again!!! "

In his world I can't possibly rock if I can procreate and take care of myself as a functional adult. If only I were cooler and still lived with my parents I suppose that's when I could really reach new levels of genius. Alas, I don't and therefore I'm doomed to the failure of totally enjoying my band, my family, my job, my house, my dog, my friends, my family and all the other terrible things that make up my life.

I mean look at the horrible shit I have to go through in the next two weeks. I have to celebrate my daughter's first birthday, go to DC 101 and get interviewed and play some songs, accept that terrible bonus from work, interview Greg Dulli, (one of my favorite musicians ever...singer for the Afghan Whigs and Twilight Singers), get my new CD from the press house and on top of it all play a Saturday night show at one of the best music clubs around town with my band that's comprised of three of my best friends and me.

HOW CAN I LIVE....HOW CAN I LIVE?!??!?!?!??!??!?!

You can come see me fail Saturday 10/22 at Iota for said release of my horrid suburban dad rock CD. I know you're probably thinking, "how does bad suburban dad rock get to headline at one of the best clubs in town on a Saturday night". I don't know, I guess there's lots of dads out there that get my gist. But anyway....

For some reason SonOfSolace (chuckle) thinks he's my mother and it's his duty to correct my behavior. Why he feels this I do not know, I'm guessing that he wants to make out with me or something. We did exchange semi-pleasant emails a few times way back but now it seems I'm back in his ginormous doghouse. I wonder if I can write acceptable music living there, I sure hope it's in Logan Circle or some other cool place like that.

So keep on lapping lapdog. I'm sure you will have plenty of opportunity to kiss my ass in person the next time we see each other, just like you always do.

That's the best part of the whole thing.

Thursday, October 06, 2005

Getting down to business

We, (as in the band), have been blasting away like mad trying to get this EP finished in time for it's grand birth on Saturday the 22nd at Iota. We're getting there and have the foundations of all five songs finished up and just need to sprinkle in the last remaining drams of awesomeness to have it ready for Ben to mix and master.


Damn, remember when Metallica didn't totally eat goat shit? Those were the days.

Anyhoo this EP is the long time coming reflection of the current version of the band which is a really different thing than the last time we recorded anything. I'm the only one left from our first CD, "Songs of Death and Happiness", and while I'll always love that record it just doesn't sound much like what we sound like now. So some people will probably hate the new stuff and some will dig it and that's cool, I just want to get it out there and at least have a decent representation of what things really sound like these days.

Recording is a weird thing. You can play songs live 198,527 times at practice and shows and never miss a beat but turn on the microphones in the studio and it's Land of Confusion (minus the puppets) all over again. It takes a while to get honed in and when time is short that gets pretty stressful. Thank god we're all assured in ourselves of how totally badass we are so we don't get down about things, it's a great security blanket the egomania.

The cover is another picture created by the Mrs and I think it's spookily cool as shit. A scan of it is at the top of this post. All the songs relate to one or more of the others lyrically. That was kind of intense to get together but good practice for writing the rock opera. It's going to be about a deaf dumb and blind kid who can fix his hair better than any of the normall kids and thus becomes (deservedly) the messiah. It's going to be like nothing you've ever heard before.

On a different note some dickhole is trying to give Philito the piss on another blog. It's mildly entertaining the simple mindedness of it all -

Some people, you just can't reason with them.

Monday, October 03, 2005

Hey Tommy Check That One Out!!!!

I’m talking to this guy, I can’t really name the circumstances as there are niceties to maintain but I can give the gist. Basically there are some folks who just refuse to progress as time marches on. Sure they’re thought of as dumbasses by most forward thinking folks but as far as I can tell they just don’t care. How awesome is that? Said fellow is 100% non-apologetic about his love of hair metal and all the surrounding elements of that lifestyle.

Spandex – HELL YEAH!!!!!!
Poison – STILL ROCKING!!!!

Coldplay - NEVER HEARD OF 'EM!!!!!

Of course while I’m in the conversation I’m thinking he’s a terrible dope but I thought that people like him were dopey back in the 80’s too so it's nothing new. Despite the silliness of the whole thing I found myself having a level of respect for him in the fact that he is absolutely secure in what he likes and has no thought of pretending otherwise. You would never see this guy wearing a Minor Threat t-shirt and pretending that he went to Wilson Center shows back in the day or some such nonsense. He’s crying for the good old days of seeing poofter coiffed bands like Mannekin and MisFit Alley, Wrathchild America, Child’s Play, Nasty Passion, (of which I had a brief affiliation), Fuzzy Lipstik, KAGE, Shotgun, Havoc, KrankKall, Medusa and the rest of the gang that bashed it out at places like the Copa, Hammerjack’s, Maxim’s, Manny’s and the legendary Tiki Fala here in the Old Dominion and up Charm City way. To him those aren’t nostalgic times, they’re sorely missed what the fuck happened goddamit I’m not giving up you shitheads baby help me squeeze this leg in this here pair of tiger strip pants so I can go kick some goddamn ass.


I wish more folks had that kind of drop dead clarity about themselves. He’s the kind of guy that people are crying for on Capitol Hill. If Kerry had a smidgen of the personal resolve and clarity about his positions on the issues of the day that my man has about the awesomeness of L.A. Guns George W. would be safely back at the ranch freebasing with his niece and nephews and the U.S. of fucking A might not be in quite the pickle that it is at the moment.

So fly the flag proudly my friend, rock and roll will never die as long as we have warriors like you fighting the good fight and keeping alive the flame of Harleys, leather pants, Jack Daniels and gratuitous shots of lingerie clad models getting soaked in a rain shower in bad videos while the singer tries to look tough even though he’s got on more makeup than Tammy Faye on Sunday. I might think you’re a nincompoop but at least you have conviction.


Now there’s a kickass band name if I ever heard one!!!!!!!