Th' Soulfinger Diaries: Final Installment-- O'Hara's, Manchester CT 5.8.07

yeah, I've been doing these utterly execreble two-piece gigs here and there with Ace McClintock playing bass and me on th' Red Lady and singing. Oh, they're awful. His competition with me reaches full swing when it's just the two of us and his aping and sputtering and bass solo-ing just completely destroy my spirit, especially when I see the disbelief in the audience's eyes.

Oh, how utterly demeaning. And I'm so off my stride and so completely mortified that I tend to begin sucking too. And minutes become hours, my friends. Seconds tick by like days. Jesus Christ.

Today we had two gigs and it was like seven hours of stage time and my trepidation was boundless. And then he started drinking. Drinking. I got off stage and let him have it all to himself because he was heading into what was sure to be a humdinger of a bass solo. Oh, it sounded so bad. He got the echo going and looped an awful, unpleasant three-second noise bit and started making more noise on top of it. It sounded like Radiohead sort of. But Radiohead would speed it up and distress it and cacophonize it and then it would go into a beautiful, alien beautiful song.

This wasn't going to go into anything beautiful.

I crept over to a corner and tried to make myself small and a woman came up to me and asked me to please go back up and make him stop and play music instead. She asked me why I let him do that and I told her it was his band and he did the booking so it was his prerogative.

"So, why are you doing this?" she asked me. She was a smart-looking woman who was obviously hanging out with her smart professional friends at happy hour and probably just wanting some nice pop songs in the background to drink to.

So why are you doing this?

I didn't know if she'd really understand if I told her it was how I made money. Everyone gets humiliated by the boss every now and then, right? There was something lacking about that answer though, you know? Like I'd decided to be a musician so I could basically have a crappy, humiliating job that just happened to be trying to play decent music for people.

So why are you doing this?

Like there was no consideration beyond esthetics. And the fucking club manager came up to me, fairly pissed off, and asked me to put a stop to it and play some fucking music or get out. Jesus, it was bad. It was really bad for me.

Music is the only thing I have that I don't suck at. I'm not kidding. When I go into Musicland it's a happy place with flowers and it's the one place I can go, man. The one place where I feel I belong, where I can proceed with confidence. Going into Musicland refuels me and gives me the will to live.

And this crazy, drunk, spoiled, evil motherfucker McClintock is turning it into this gross, barren, beshitted lunar landscape of despair and now I have nowhere to go and nothing to do in front of people that makes me feel worthwhile. God, I hate that motherfucking McClintock. What a pig he is. And the way he treats women is disgusting. He's a complete narcissist pig who doesn't respect people's boundaries and embarasses everyone around him with his utter self-centeredness.

So three songs into the second gig I packed up and left.

He was going to do a bass solo.

Just to piss me off. Just to piss me off. What an asshole.

So why are you doing this?

Why indeed.

Webs Rich Bounty


Surrey Housewife Finds Perfect Likeness of Aerobically- Enhanced Sid Vicious Shaved Into Pubic Region

Dig Kevin Wolf for th' whole story.

Modern Life Is Rubbish.



My Gut Is That A.J.'s Going To Get It.

I could be wrong but I have a strong presentiment. It would be very Godfather.
If I'm wrong I can just drive this post out to th' woods and ventilate it.



An Overview Of Th' Candidates: Nazi Party

Duncan Hunter! Our first feature! Allow me to get this out of the way quickly-


That's fucking Mike Myers, you idiots. It's Mike MYERS. yeahhhhhh, babeeee!

Duncan Hunter! Sounds like something you yell when th' dirty bombs are comin' in.

Which they will be! Duncan'll see to it that even MORE people who think monsters are fighting above the clouds will want to kill us. Fuck, that'll be his fucking platform. Duncan Hunter: The Make The Six Remaining People Who Don't Hate Us Hate Us President. Fucked up, venal, evil, corrupt shit bag. Go fuck yourself. Go start a corporation with th' cash you made selling your infant children to th' charnel house. Pig.

You're last on the list for my next dinner party, pig.

Final analysis: funny in So I Married An Ax Murderer

Good point: when you say his name six times fast it turns into "dumb cunt hummer".

Heyyy- now Giulani could be a swell president. He's almost fucking batty enough. His is one of the few faces to not benefit from dimples. 'Tis a face only a fire extinguisher could love. Ugly, crazy, fucked-up bastard. At least his teeth is white.

Giuliani. Jesus, what the fuck would he do? What would his contribution to the Rape Of Columbia be? Oh, I'd be all a-flutter just to see. Fucking asshole would probably invade Sweden searching for Osama Bin Larsson he's so stupid and misguided and bad. The shit that's going to come out about this fucking guy is going to be some funny stuff. I don't think we've scratched the surface of The Madness Of Rudi.

Oh, yes, please, America- give us Giuliani for President between votin' for the New American Idol and seeing what a bunch of fucking peasants you can be.

I propose a new Amendment to th' Constitution: The Right To Fucking Kill Giuliani.

Final Analysis: At least they got the fire on his face out before it spread to his belly.

Good points: You wouldn't have to put his picture on th' bottom of your shoe. It's already there.

Ladies and gentlemen I give you President Jim Gilmore! Ha ha ha ha! dIS AM FUN!!

Look- he's answering the question, "how many quintillions of American tax dollars will you spend fomenting terrorism in th' Middle East so Corporations can clean up?"

Jim Gilmore! Fucking guy has like twelve TV monitors set up in his lair, each trained on a different prison cell in Guantanamo so he never has to stop masturbating with a filthy loofa. Whoa, technolergy is sweet!

Jim Gilmore. Wow. It's come to this. I'm sure I'd like to raise a son who'd grow up to be like Jim Gilmore. Then I'd know I'd failed on a Grand Scale and could Maybe Be Famous.

Why don't we just get a fucking jump on this shit and have Satan for president? Wait- he's not Presidential because he's not evil enough and fucking corrupt enough and doesn't have green enough fucking teeth like all these fucking stormtrooping brownshirt rodent-devouring- and- fucking right wing Arbeit Macht Frei shit bags. On to the fucking Bastille, my brothers!

Final Analysis: Yeah, Jim's your man. He'll make sure there's a bible in every motel room and free toilet paper for whites.

Good point: Has big enough tits to maybe cop breast cancer.

Gee willickers, Mr. McCain! Are you supposed to do that to your own cattle?

Christ, John. Just...Christ. John, it looks like you were created by th' Vampire Focus Group and they scanned yer face off a fucking ten dollar fucking bill with 3 dpi resolution.

Go, John McCain! I'm sure you're a real Patriot if'n your definition of Patriot is somebody who hires six crystal-methed-out hookers and then spents five sleepless days and nights making sure not a single blackhead remains on a one of 'em.

John McCain might very well spell th' End Of America, my friends. Vote McCain. Oh, he'll roll back those tax breaks. Oh, yes. He'll get us on the path to nat'l healthcare. He'll make sure our children receive quality education. Ha ha ha ha.

Yeah, President McCain will reinstate Habeus Corpus. Hee hee. That's a fun parlor game- pick a right-wing shitbag contender and say the things they'll do for the country. Oh, you'll be rolling.

McCain won't sell our three remaining freeways to fucking Luxembourg so he can have 50 fucking Learjets. God, I hate these fucking shit bags.

Final Analysis: his words have a half-life of 10,000 years, so toxic is he a fella.

Good point: will die really soon. Then Vice President Damien could see out th' term.

Huckabee! Oh, I definitely do NOT heart Huckabee. Why? Well, I'll tell you: he's what flies out of the mouths of tobacco chewers, that there's why. They did a whole feature about it on the "News".

They'll swear him in and he'll be like where's the fuckin' Button? Where's the Button? You know how that one sick pube used to get cats and disembowel them? Bill Frist, yeah. Him.

Huckabee followed around behind him playing games with and devouring th' cat entrails when Frist was done wrapping them about his nethers and cackling.

Cackling, people.

Final Analysis: He'd be a really good president except on full moons.

Good point: jowly people look funny when they lie.

Milt Romney! Android Mormon Squirrel Hunting Abomination President!

He got his name "Mitt" because his many wives like to strap on and wear him like a glove! Airtight, baby!

Oh, things'll be spiffy in Mitt's America. Sure they will. American Idol will change format and the winner will be the kid who can throw the most brown babies up in th' air and catch them on a bayonet.

We'll annex th' Sudetenland and then it'll be on to Poland and Czechoslovakia. Nice. That fucking human stain Pat Dollard'll be his own personal Leni Reifenstahl! Triumph of Th' Will II- This Time It's Personal.

Final Analysis: Maybe Kevorkian got out of th' slammer at an opportune time. Hey Jack, Mitt's terminal! Help him, help him.

Good point: Multiple First Lady Cat Fights in th' "media".

Ron Paul! Yes! Although his sis Ru would be even more presidential.

Can you imagine this hideous lump of ochre putrescence (yeah, I love me the Poe- they hadn't outlawed it yet when I was in school) as President?

'Course, I remember saying that about Dribbles.

Ron Paul is harmlessly hateful in a Reagan sort of way where he chuckles around and scratches his ass and all of a sudden you're paying 70% in taxes so his granddaughters can skate on an icerink made of frozen Liberian infants. And you feel a weird compulsion to thank him. That's a Republican for you!

They're like vacuum cleaner salesmen but the vacuums they sell only suck up Goodness.

Final Analysis: hey, what the fuck! If you want a president who only has one pair of underwear Ron's yer fella!

Good points: has tattoo of an ass on his ass.

Sam Brownback! Ha ha ha ha ha!

Final analysis: Hhhhhaaaaa ha ha ha ha.

*cough* *gurble gurble*

This is the only fucking pissdrinking Republican whose teeth are fucking yellower than that sick piece of rancid offal with th' Makaka thing. George. Seriously, google these guys pictures sometime. You'd think with all the cash they suck into their gross mandibles from th' Puppy Fur Coat industry they could afford a fucking whitening.

Look at his face. What is he thinking?? Here's my guess: "I'm going to give this photographer chick a Journey Mix Tape and beg, beg, beg her to tap me w/ the catalytic converter from a '95 Mustang."

Heck, drink enough blood and you get what you get.

Final analysis: Six parts shit, four parts shit.

Tancredo! Jesus! Fuck!
Who in their right fucking mind would ever, ever vote for this fucking evil cum stain?????

Woah! 'Mericans! That's who! Because 'Mericans think oranges are laid by big orange hens and Jesus has enough spare time to make sure his swarthy likeness makes it onto plenty of toast! Yes indeed!

And you and I gets to live amongst them and fight, fight, fight for the right to not have our children ground into hamburger that believes in walkin' on water and Santa!

Wait- Santa's O.K. until age 23.

Anyway, this fucking guy doesn't deserve to sweep the streets, much less run for president, but then, who of these repulsive, evil, conniving, corrupt fuckfaces really does????

Final Analysis: Somebody tell Mark D. Chapman that this guy is Lennon reborn. Please.

Good point: if he is Lennon reborn maybe th' Beatles can open for The Police this summer. That'd be a show 'n' a half! They'd all get up at th' end and do "One" by u2. There'd be like 40 thousand fucking cell phones waving.

Wait, that's not a good point at all, is it?

Woah! Little Tommy Thompson! Tommy likes musical theatre, long walks on the beach with young boys and teabaggin' to the oldies!

And, problematically, lying about it.

Christ, if he'd only just come clean. Then we could have our first gay president, never mind the fact that he'd still fucking kneecap anyone who makes less'n 1 mil. a year and doesn't think Baby Jeezus made th' universe out of fucking jujubees picked off th' bottom of theatre seats.

Final analysis: repulsive shit bag who can't be honest with himself even when he's tonguing adolescent male Burmese.

Good point: he wouldn't touch Angela Merkel at th' G8.


Can't We All Just Not Get Along?

Man ever since I clocked that fuckin' twit to within an inch of his life in '00 for letting his pitbull get a hold of Sal Th' Feist I've sworn off violence of any sort. It can possibly be cool when you're 18 and it's about some sort of justice but it just isn't something th' well-adjusted over-30 dude does. Plus, the universe works against you for 30 seconds and you'll find yourself with a legal fucking nightmare. That's what happens in the real world. Along with all the other lame crap like me not being th' singer for Maroon5 and not having tube microphones and a Bosendurmfer piano. Fuckers are like 15 feet long, man. That is a fucking SUV of an instrument right there. You could play fucking Medicine Square Garden without amplification with that shit. Tori Anus did it in '75.

So I had a rub w/ a trucker th' other day and I called him "Mr. Snippy Pants" and that ended it pretty fast. "Is the heat getting to you, Mr. Snippy Pants?"

When was th' last time you hauled off on someone for calling you "Mr. Snippy Pants"?

And that is my counsel to you this day.