The Lead Bicycle

Noooo, my friends. I'm not talking about the lead bicycle, th' one out in front. This is the bicycle that's made of lead. This is The Lead Bicycle.

I coined this term in about '99 or thereabouts when I was in my early '30's and starting to end-run my ugly lunge for rock success. God must that have been ugly. It's always ugly. I'm glad I had the sense to realize it was going to become unsightly.

You have no idea how many ex-colleagues of mine are still out there. Jesus Christ. Still trying to get that girl to go to the prom with them, you know?

It's not like it's 1979 or even 1985 or even 1992. Nowadays celebrities are fuckin' assholes! Jesus, I don't know if it's a drag or a relief, you know? Dude, mass entertainment is the enemy now. Look around. Mass entertainment is the fucking Wermacht of th' Oughts, man.

Anyway, The Lead Bicycle is the pursuit that you take on with the best intentions and a lot of energy and positive thoughts. And it's sort of shiny and you start pushing it up th' hill and there's nothing to it. Maybe it's a dream. Maybe it's a love.

And then a person or people start showing up and they start going up the hill with you. And one or two of 'em even give The Lead Bicycle a li'l push, you know? Not much of one, but enough so that you know they want to be with The Lead Bicycle when it gets to the summit. They want to be a part of it.

But somewhere up the hill that fucker starts getting heavy, man. And no one really leans in and really helps you out with it. I mean, they want to see the thing go up the hill but it's your Lead Bicycle, you know?

And every time you let go of The Lead Bicycle it starts rolling backwards immediately. It doesn't have the capacity to move an inch on its own, man. And it gets heavier and heavier and it starts to hurt, you know? And you start to slip backwards and lose ground. You push and push and then you even feel something give in your chest and then your back's fucked up to where it's hard to even sit comfortably. Save something. It's not the last hill, man.

Let go of The Lead Bicycle, man. I'm telling you. There's nothing wrong with pushing a bicycle up a hill, man. When people take turns and the bicycle isn't made of lead? And it'll coast a little? Hey, bicycles don't get to the fucking top on their own.

Let go of your Lead Bicycle. I think it even wants you to, man. Think of how good it'll feel to watch that fuckin' little polesmoker smash to bits at the bottom. Sweet. Wake up from it like it's a dream. Tell yourself: I'm going to read a good book under a tree. I'm going to swim at night in a pond with her this summer. And our tongues will dance and then she'll take me in her hand and oh I'll be like a fucking steel beam and then I'll be inside, inside, inside and that is one easy, easy bicycle to push.

Don't hurt yourself, man. Make it easy. Make it easy on yourself.

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"Matinee"- Song O' The Day at Garbageband.


U2 And Injustice

Uneasy bedfellows!

In this photo Bono of U2 prepares to bite off the foot of fuckin' Somoza!

Larry Mullen Jr. sucks th' leukemia out of his 5,oooth orphan.

Adam Clayton accepts th' Nobel Bass Prize in '05!

Adam donated his liver to a poor Ethiopian child. AND LIVED. How do you reckon???


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Th' Soulfinger Diaries, or, Clearly The Veil I'm Using In My Thinly-Veiled Contempt For Humanity Needs To Be Upgraded To A Slightly Thicker Veil


Insane Drunk Female In Front Row: BLEAAAGGGHGHH BLEAHGGGG

Bobby Lightfoot: Did you forget your anti-psychotic medication?

Audience: Ha ha ha.


BL: Is that white van with th' flashing lights in the parking lot for you?

Audience: Haaa haa haaa ha.

IDFIFR: Fuuuuckkkkk yyyyyooeeeeewwwww

BL: I don't come to your job and slobber and scream at you while you make license plates.

Audience: HAA HAA HA.


BL: Yeah, I don't come to your job and cackle and blow snot on you while you taste-test urine.

Audience: OOOOhhhhhhh.....


Wacky Chick That's Been Giving Me The Hairy Eyeball Over Her Date's Shoulder All Night:
So, are you married?

Bobby Lightfoot: Yes, I actually have three wives and they're all here tonight.

Don't you think I still have a nice body?

BL: I can't really compare because I didn't know you when you were 78.

WC: Do you love Christ?

BL: I think she's a filthy rat fucker.


Jazz Aristocracy (on trombone):

Ace McClintock (on upright bass): BLLLLOOOONT. BLOOBBOOOBBOOO

Bobby Lightfoot: Bleagh. How unspeakable.

JA: Man, when I used to play with Charles Mingus we used to do this. He called it "Arguing With The Wife"....he'd go blertttt treelerrrrrnt and I'd go bllaappsplaaapp...

BL: I bet even that sounded bad.

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