10/03/2005

Bobby Lightfoot's Asshole Celebrity Fight Week #1: My FIGHT With Wilford Fucking Brimley


It all starts in this god damn bar in where was it...god damn...um, Hoboken. yeah. We're talking '88, '89. There was this place in Hoboken called, um, fuck. I forget. Let's say it was the Beaten Path. The Beaten Path in Hoboken. It's a club and a restaurant all in one. It's like one of those places like Green Street Station in Jamaica Plain Boston where they make this crazy food like dirty rice 'n' steak tips and it's like out of this world.

So there's a 200+ capacity live room adjoining the restaurant and it's all the crop of late '80's indie. This would've been with The Malarians. Headlining, baby. What a hilarious god damn band. Mal Thursday, Johnny Tomorrow, Bob Medley, Lyme Ricky and Slater Awn. Hilarious and withering. Hilarious, withering and feverish.

But god damn if it isn't sort of static-y between th' restaurant and the live room. Always is in places like that. You roll the wagons up to a venue like that and you know there's going to be static. Unless it's like that place in Atlanta, The Earl, where the entrance to the music part is like three blast doors.

So god damned if we're soundchecking and some wanker manager comes in from the restaurant there at the Beaten Path and complains because the customers are bitching about the noise. Music is supposed to start at 10 and it's like 9 so it's that whole fucking scene. I'm like, "fine, let's eat. We sound tits," but Mal wants to work something out with the vocal monitor and says he can do it in twenty seconds.

The rest of us are like, "knock yerself out," and hit the restaurant.

So we get a booth and the drinks are going around pretty good and Mal comes over. Halfway down the aisle somebody sticks their leg out and fucking trips the guy. Mal goes down, grabbing a tablecloth on th' way and upends some people's table of food on them. Turns out its god damn Wilford Brimley and his daughter and his son-in-law. Wilford fuckin' jumps up all irate. He's wearing some Chilean seabass and is none too pleased. He starts yelling and calling Mal names and Mal is like, "fuck this" and comes over to our table. God damn Wilford comes after him, demanding that he apologize to the other two, and Mal is like "someone fucking tripped me". Wilford's BULLSHIT by now. You can picture it. Fuckin' red in the face, that stupid moustache twitchin' and twitterin' with food in it and shit. He's all on about "you kids today" and "rude little pricks".

So Mal is just ignoring him. We all are for the most part. Mal turns away from him and god damn Wilford grabs him and turns him back around, yelling some crap about respecting him and don't we know who he is and that. Mal brings his hands up to break the guys hold and knocks Wilford's glasses askew. The sputtering old fool shoves Mal and they both go into yet another table. The manager dude is there by now, and people are splitting. I'm closest to them so I get up to break it up, and Wilford yells some shit and god damn if he doesn't crack me in the nose with his free hand, the cocksucker. I swear and step back and start hammering the old coot in the kidneys, one-a-two-athree. He lets go of Mal who fades back a little and turns towards me.

Guy is fuckin' livid. He steps in and plants one in my gut and when I go over I see his knee and it's all stars. He doesn't get me as bad as he could've but my lip is cut good and I gotta loose molar. Fuckin' bastard. I rip a left into his gut and whip his glasses off. Old fucker is disoriented for a sec and I back off and come in fast, jumping up and giving him both feet in the chest. He goes back 2 or 3 steps and I'm up and into him.

I smack my forehead into his nose and it hurts alright but it fucks him up good. I stomp on his foot with my boot and when he bends over I box the crap out of his ears, once, twice, three times. Then it's into the side of a table with him. He goes over and I give him a couple good kicks in the ass for good measure. The god damn manager is grabbing at me and Wilford comes up with a water glass and rocks it over my head.

It's more show than anything else, but I get a couple good bleeders in my scalp. I get the manager off me and move back in. Brimley is moving with a grim, sick anger now. His face is a mask of crimson rage, blood flowing from his nose, his spectacle-less eyes like those of a gutshot badger. I work a left into his right cheek and a right up under his chin. He's an old brick, the cocksucker, and when I come in for another he feints backwards and fuckin' works one into my side that hurts like shit. He grins evilly and hits me again in the same spot, the meanest old trick in the dirty boxing book.

I stagger a little, trying to get my breath and he grabs a fuckin' beer stein off a table and comes at me. He grabs me by the shirt and raises the stein and I'm thinking it's curtains but I instinctively manage to get my knee up and into his groin. It's a home run of a nutbuster and he sputters and drops the thing and goes to his knees. I step back and hit him with a running roundhouse kick right in the fuckin' face. He whips back like a tree in a gale, blood flying out of his mouth in a thick, wide arc. I give him another from the left and his head snaps back again and he goes over on his back like a fat dead orca, huffing and sobbing.

Wilford god damn Brimley! What a cock! THAT guy!

Next: A Texas run-in with Ann Coulter.

14 Comments:

Blogger XTCfan said...

Excellent. Between the nutbuster and the kidney punches, I bet he pissed blood for weeks. No amount of Quaker Oats will fix that shit.

1:57 PM  
Blogger Kevin Wolf said...

Can't wait for the next fight!

2:07 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

One would think that after knowing you all these years ... I would have know that you beat the shit out of the Quaker Oats guy. I believe he was also the old dude that didn't need viagra after being reborn via the cocoon.

Oh well, never liked quaker oats anyway.

Lori Lightfoot

5:33 PM  
Blogger Neddie said...

Fuckin' Brimley. Did you know he broke into the cornpone circuit with a Blackface act in '36, singing "Dan the Lavatory Man" and "Jeannie with the Light Brown Landing Strip" for Indiana Klan meetings? No lie. He lost everything after Brown vs. Board of Ed., had to resort to a one-man-band busking act on the streets of St. Louis, doing covers of university fight songs. Blind Willie McTell once stole his drum rig and sold it for liquor, had a marathon rent party. Brimley sat outside the brownstone, howling revenge for three days until the gendarmes dragged him away. You can read about it in his autobiography -- which, by the way, mentions your little dustup with him at The Beaten Path. He describes it as an autograph-hound deal. Wonder what's up with the discrepancy.

Remind me to tell you sometime about the time I gave Euell Gibbons three flat tires in a row in a White Pride parade in Kankakee. He was pissed!

8:07 PM  
Blogger Bobby Lightfoot said...

Glork!!! Snurk!!!!! Bloof!!!!

Gyuck.

Fucking BRIMLEY. Autograph hound my ass.

I hate a liar.

8:12 PM  
Blogger The Viscount LaCarte said...

Can't think of anything to say, except I love reading your blog. It is unique and excellent.

8:55 PM  
Blogger Employee of the Month said...

Six words:

Knife fight with Shields and Yarnell

9:48 PM  
Blogger Pinko Punko said...

God damn. I hate Big Oatmeal, they'll shiv ya just as soon as say hello.

10:28 PM  
Blogger Bobby Lightfoot said...

EULL GIBBONS!!!!

BLEARGHHHH HAH HA HA HA HA GLLLRPPPP HYCK HA HA HA HA

11:59 PM  
Blogger jedmunds said...

That was beautiful. Cormac McCarthy in the border trilogy beautiful.

12:00 AM  
Blogger res publica said...

So....so awesome. I think I love you. WTF is up with this word-verification bullshit anyway? I guess it's to make sure I'm not posting about my new method to MAKE YOUR PENIS BIGGER or whatever.

1:52 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ah, our rock & roll salad days -- $100 split five ways, two drink tickets each, and beating the wrinkles out of Wilford Brimley...
Sent Johnny a great pic of youse guys backstage at the Grotto. Fresh meat for your blog.
Love,
Mal
PS: Check out my new radio show, "Florida Rocks Again!" at www.podcast.garagepunk.com.

8:34 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You are so full of it. Wilford does not have a daughter..........and that's just the beginning of your fantasy. Better go somewhere else with this stuff! Trust me......I know what I'm talking about! Thanks and have a great day!

3:34 AM  
Blogger Unknown said...

This comment has been removed by the author.

5:45 AM  

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