Overtime's Blog

Friday, September 3rd, Cryan's

2004-09-04T09:42:00.000-04:00

This is something I have been meaning to do for a while, but have never seemed to get around to.

Put a post about every show we play.

So, to start with we played at Cryan's in South Orange last night.

For those who don't know, this is one of our regular places that we play. We usually play there twice a month.

Was a pretty decent night, crowd wise, especially since we were up against 1) beautiful weather and 2) Labor Day weekend.

But--and if you've ever been to Cryan's you'll get this--there was actually two or three parking spaces in the parking lot, so it wasn't exactly a HUGE crowd.

But, that doesn't mean we didn't have a great time anyway.

A quick shout out to Vince, who was having his rehearsal dinner at Cryan's. We didn't have the honor of meeting Vince's betrothed, but we wish him all the best in getting married today!

Okay, Talk to you all next week! Promise!

Productive

2004-02-29T08:25:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, we had band practice at Danny's house.

This may sound like no big deal to you, but it is when you consider we had all of ONE band practice in the last YEAR.

(Why? Because since we play every week, we are always up on our stuff.)

What's great about practices is that we ALWAYS walk away from them with at least 10 new songs.

And this time was no different.

We added, let's see...

"Calling All Angels" by Train, "Cherry Cherry" and "Crackling Rosie" by Niel Diamond, "Lonesome Day" by Bruce Springsteen, and "In A Little While" by Uncle Kracker, among others.

We also had a few that just didn't work... ("Sweet Caroline" which REALLY needs a keyboard... So please don't ask for it...)

In all, a good time, as we not only practiced, but played a few songs with Dan's four children as well, which was a lot of fun!

Oh, and I will also mention, Dan, GREAT pork roll sandwich!

Time Off!

2004-02-27T15:19:00.000-05:00

Well folks, just a quick note for you all.

Overtime is on a well deserved and much needed break for the next two weekends.

We will return to the stage on March 12th at Cryan's in South Orange.

See you then!

Cancellation, a Thank You and a Prayer.

2004-02-07T15:15:00.000-05:00

Tonight's Overtime gig at the Boavista Pub in Newark has been cancelled due to an illness in the family.

Hopefully, we'll book another date there sometime soon to make this up to you all.

Also, a BIG thanks go to Mark and especially T.J. Donohue from Giant Space Robots for helping oput last night!

T.J. filled in for Danny on drums last night and performed Yeoman's duty, playing all night long! His brother MArk hung out for a while and sang a couple of blistering versions of Cheap Trick's "Surrender" and the Stones' "Honky Tonk Woman".

Again, thanks to them both for helping out the band during a rough stretch.

Which brings me to this. Danny missed the two gigs this weekend because of a severe illness in his family. Please, if you are so inclined, send out a prayer or a good thought or some good mojo to him and his family in this dark hour for them.

Blair and Lee's thoughts and prayers are with you and your family, Dan.

Much love & respect to you all.

Please get well.

Tonight On Drums...

2004-02-06T13:24:00.000-05:00

Folks, due to an emergency in his family, Danny, our drummer, will not be able to play tonight's show at Cryan's.

However, filling in for him, from Giant Space Robots is Overtime's former drummer and out good friend T.J. Donohue!

Come on out and hear this old time Overtime reunion tonight!

All Things Potch

2004-01-23T14:56:00.000-05:00

Started this as a conversation with one Rob Matsushita, over my jealousy that his last name is, like, EVERYWHERE in Japan.

So I did some looking into my own last name: Potcher.

The only place I've ever seen another Potcher is there was a kicker (KICKER!) on a Canadian football team named Potcher.

Not even fucking related to me.

*Sob!*

SO I hit the internet.

Dictionary.com lists this: potcher

\Potch"er\, n. One who, or that which, potches.

Potcher engine (Paper Making), a machine in which washed rags are stirred in a bleaching solution.

Furthermore, "Potch" is listed as: potch

\Potch\, v. i. [Cf. Poach to stab.] To thrust; to push. [Obs.] ``I 'll potch at him some way.'' --Shak.

(See? I'm in mother effing SHAKESPEARE!!!!)

Source: Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary, © 1996, 1998 MICRA, Inc.

Also there was: potch

\Potch\, v. t. See Poach, to cook. [Obs.] --Wiseman.

Source: Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary, © 1996, 1998 MICRA, Inc.

Hmmmm...

On Google I found this.

You MUST see this shit.

Or THIS from Japan.

And little did you know it, but I am in a children's book!

And finally, there is Potch-Kun... A Lego creation. Potch-kun may be translated as "studs boy" which named after the Lego brick shaped hat he is wearing...

Sigh...

It's so sad...

Happy Birthday Blair!

2004-01-21T17:00:00.000-05:00

Today is Blair's birthday!

You know, the bass player in Overtime!

Happy birthday my friend!

I Forsee One HELL Of A Battle Of The Bands...

2004-01-13T15:23:00.000-05:00

Some of you may or may not know that Stone Temple Pilots (STP) broke up in November.

The reason why is believed to be singer Scott Weiland's new side project, Velvet Revolver, a super group made up of Weiland, guitarist Slash (of Guns N' Roses fame), bassist Duff McKagan (Also of GNR) and drummer Matt Sorum (of The Cult and GNR for a time).

So this leaves the other three guys in STP out in the cold, al la Rage Against The Machine after Zach De La Rocha quite.

So what do they do? They call up Izzy Stradlin (formerly of GNR AS WELL) and singer Chris Robinson (formerly of the Black Crowes) and have put together their OWN super group.

Man, would I LOVE to see a double bill of these two acts, both of which will likely sell better than Guns N' Roses new album.

Why?

BECAUSE IT'S NEVER GONNA COME OUT AND AXL ROSE SUCKS!!!

Me, I'm happy to have two news bands I'll almost DEFINITELY like coming out.

Potch out!

Peace in the Middle East

Huh...

2004-01-02T15:51:00.000-05:00

So here I have been thinking no one has been here for the last half year, as it shows that I have no comments on any of my posts.

But!

Apparently, even though the thingy reads "Comments 0", there really ARE comments there anyways!

SO I just had a 6 month reading frenzy.

Sorry if I didn't respond to your comments.

Oh, and to that asshole from October 17th? Yer just a bitter frikkin BoSox fan, jerkboy.

I only watch the playoffs?

Dude, I LIVE for Yankee baseball. I am JONESING for Spring Training. I read all the hot stove stuff like a FIEND.

So, say it with me now... Nine-Teen-Eight-Teen!

Siddown and shuddup, junior.

(Hee Hee Hee!)

Oh, and BTW, your SS is gonna look AWFUL fetching playing 3B for the Yankees in 2005.

You heard it here FIRST.

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

AARON FUCKING BOONE!!!
BUCKY FUCKING DENT!!!
BILL FUCKING BUCKNER!!!
GRADY FUCKING LITTLE!!!

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Down For The Count

2003-12-31T13:25:00.000-05:00

Well, had to go BACK to the doctor yesterday.

Still having trouble breathing.

Couldn't get from my ar to the doctor's office (maybe 200 feet...) without getting winded.

He says I have something similar to asthma, and Upper Respiratory Somethingorother...

So, I am to stay home form work today and tomorrow, and he told me to cancel tonight's New Year's Eve gig at Cryan's. He didn't even want me there to just play guitar.

"Bedrest!" He tells me.

That's all I've BEEN doing since Sunday.

God, I just want to get well...

To any and all fans of Overtime who might be reading this, sorry about tonight's show. Trust me, if there were any way I could do this, I would.

Have a happy, healthy and safe New Year, folks.

Breathe In, Breathe Out...

2003-12-29T00:51:00.000-05:00

At five o'clock this morning, I woke up with a coughing fit after a pretty bad nightmare. Compound this with having had bronchitis for the last week or so.

So, what with the freaky bad dream, the coughing and the basic shortness of breath I already had, I was soon gagging.

The next thing you know, I was breathing like I had run a marathon... AT MY CURRENT WEIGHT OF ABOUT 350 lbs!

The sweat started pouring off of me, tears running from my eyes. I became light headed and dizzy.

I thought I was going to die.

And I don't mean that in an "oh man, I though we were SOOOO dead," type of way, I mean I REALLY thought I was punching my ticket this morning.

Sheila, my wife, was asleep in the bedroom (when my bronchitis flares up, I tend to sleep in the living room, sitting up... I breathe easier that way)

I called out to her, waking her from a dead sleep.

She came running into the kitchen and immediately started calming me down, recognizing that I was REALLY having a massive panic attack, brought on by everything else.

As my brething eased, she went and got dressed, helped me put my socks and sneakers on and then took my ass to the Emergency Room at Union General about 1.5 miles away.

I stayed there from 5:30 AM to about 12:15 PM.

They gave me three breathing treatments and some steroids to open up my airway, and took X-Rays to make sure I didn't have pneumonia. They concluded I have Asthmatic Bronchitis.

They also told me I looked a whole new person from when I walked in, pale, sweating, barely able to take a medium sized breath, to when I left, color in my face, calm and breathing slow, but steady.

I have spent the entire day on the couch, watching movies and TV. My breathing is still slow, but steady. I coughed up a LOT of mucus (sorry for the gory details) and doing much less coughing now.

So in all, I am doing much better now.

But I admit, I am STILL a bit scared to go back to sleep.

It's All About ME!

2003-12-14T11:06:00.000-05:00

And the sooner you all realize that, the happier this world will be.

8^)

Yes, yes, as of today, I am now 33 years old.

Jeebus, where does the time go?

Seems like just yesterday I was a bright, young 32, and now, here I am, 33 and decrepit.

Sigh.

It's almost enough to make you wanna just stop working and become a shut in, walking around in shorts and a robe, drinking 2-liter after 2-liter of Diet Dr. Pepper, eating pint after pint of Chubby Hubby, scratching various body parts and watching Jerry Springer all while waiting for the inevitable cold touch...

Of a kitten who likes to put his paws into the water dish before jumping on daddy...

Thanks Dude.

Actually, that's his name.

Dude.

We got a couple of kitten recently.

Well, okay, in SEPTEMBER...

And we have named one Bootsy (because of his white "boots" and a love of all things funkadelic) and the other, is Dude (because of a love of "The Big Lebowski").

So now, we have three cats: Bandit, Bootsy and The Dude.

There's a movie script there in those names, but I haven't found it yet...

I'd like to thank all of you who still stop by on occasion to read my rantings, even though lately, there have been few and most of them have been pics and memes.

So, you might ask, what brings me out of hiding to write all of a sudden?

Well, today is my birthday.

33 years young.

And I'm just reflecting whilst I have some time alone (the wife is out shopping for a short while).

I have been doing some research into writing lately. I saw a movie and picked up four books on it and have been reading various scripts as well. I've essentially been trying to self teach myself the finer points of writing.

Now, some of you might say "but Potch, we read that 'Killer High' thing you and Matsushita were writing over at Wheaton's Soapbox and it was good" and for that, I would say thank you.

But I want to be better than good. I want to be DAMNED good, if not great.

As you might (or might not know) I wrote two screenplays over the summer; a Tarantino-wannabe cromedy (crime comedy) called "The Comic Shop" (inspired SPECIFICALLY by Ben Kingsley's performance in "Sexy Beast") and a most;y true life story about my father's death called "Live With The Results".

I like them both, but after finishing them, I (and my wife, mother and Rob) all saw flaws in them.

So I wanted to rewrite them, but felt I was doing so at a disadvantage.

So I put them aside to give myself some space.

Then, I rented "Adaptation", with Chris Cooper, Meryl Streep and a GREAT Nick Cage.

The movie is a great tale of how screenwriter Charlie Kaufman (the ACTUAL screen writer) takes an assignment to adapt a book for the screen and hits a severe case of writer's block. And his identical twin brother (who doesn't actually exist) is now a fledgling screenwriter himself who takes a writing course by one Robert McKee.

Anyway, from a writing or writer's standpoint, the film is FRIKKING brilliant, inspiring and actually teaches you a thing or two about writing.

Inspired, I then bought some books on how to (at least) be a BETTER writer.

First was the "Powers Scriptbook" by Brian Michael Bendis with illustrations by Michael Avon Oeming.

A GREAT insight into not only script writing abut specifically comic book script writing. This book inspired me to search out more.

Then, there was "Creating Unforgettable Characters" by Linda Seger.

Excellent book about getting into the psychology of your characters, knowing their whole lives (not just for the story) and making them complex.

Followed by "The Novel Writer's Toolkit" by Bob Mayer.

This is a great book for ANY writer, explaining how to construct a story, adding more information about character development and such.

And finally, I found out that the Robert McKee mentioned in "adaptation" was a REAL, VERY ACCOMPLISHED screenwriting teacher.

So I sought out his book "Story".

A FANTASTIC book about writing, whether for the screen or writing short stories, novels, whatever. It's a bit like a technical manual, but has been teaching me so much!

In all, this is kind of like a home writing course I have been putting myself through. I am seeing where I have done the right thing in my writing, and where I have failed.

Hopefully, all of this will be put to good use soon, and I'll have more works of fiction to show you.

But for now, I'm just gonna sit back and chill, enjoy my birthday, watch "Kill Bill" and hopefully go out for BBQ tonight.

Oh, and also celebrate the capture of international fucktard, Saddam Hussein.

A nice brithday present in and of itself.

Oh, and while yeah, I am both saddened and steamed about the Yankees losing Andy Pettitte, I WILL say that getting Gary Sheffield, Javier Vazquez, Kevin Brown, Flash Gordon (Gotta reread "The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon" now...), Paul Quantrill and Kenny Lofton eases the pain a bit, as, right now, I would have to admit the Yankees are a better team than the one that went to the World Series...

Cancelled!

2003-12-05T16:16:00.000-05:00

Tonight's gig at Durkin's has been cancelled due to the winter storm blowing piles of snow on us all.

Sorry to all those who were planning on coming.

Hope to see you next Friday at the Liberty or two weeks from tonight at The Rattlesnake.

Good luck, stay safe and warm.

Peace.

It's So Wrong It MUST Be Right

2003-12-04T16:55:00.000-05:00

Courtesy of my co-worker, John Shea...

Enjoy!

25 Rules For Being A Good Republican

2003-11-21T12:45:00.000-05:00

Got this from the lovely and talented Buck Hakes!

And, I hate t say it, it's only so funny because it's TRUE!

1) Being a drug addict is a moral failing and a crime, unless you are millionaire conservative radio jock, which makes it an "illness" and needs our prayers for "recovery."

2) You have to believe that those privileged from birth achieve success
all on their own.

3) You have to be against government programs, but expect your Social Security checks on time.

4) You have to believe that government should stay out of people's private lives, but it needs to punish anyone caught having sex with the "wrong" gender.

5) You have to believe that pollution is ok, so long as it makes a profit.

6) You have to believe in prayer in schools, as long as you don't pray to Allah or Buddha.

7) You have to believe that only your own teenagers are still virgins.

8) You have to believe that a woman cannot be trusted with decisions about her own body, but that large multinational corporations can make decisions affecting all mankind with no regulation whatsoever.

9) You have to believe that you love Jesus and Jesus loves you, and that Jesus shares your hatred of AIDS victims, homosexuals, and Hillary Clinton.

10) You hate the ACLU for representing convicted felons, but they owed it to the country to bail out Oliver North.

11) You have to believe that it was wise to allow Ken Starr to spend $80 million dollars to attack Clinton, because no other U.S. presidents have ever been unfaithful to their wives.

12) You have to believe that group sex is a degenerate sin that can only be purged by running for governor of California as a Republican.

13) You have to believe it is wise to keep condoms out of schools, because we all know if teenagers don't have condoms they won't have sex.

14) You have to believe that the ACLU is bad because they defend the Constitution, while the NRA is good because they defend the Constitution.

15) You have to believe that government Medicare is wrong and that HMOs and
insurance companies only have your best interests at heart.

16) You have to believe the AIDS virus is not important enough to deserve federal funding proportionate to the resulting death rate and that the public doesn't need to be educated about it, because if we just ignore it, it will go away.

17) You have to believe that biology teachers are corrupting the morals of 6th graders if they teach them the basics of human sexuality, but the Bible, which is full of sex and violence, is just good reading.

18) You have to believe that atheism is a religion and creationism is science.

19) You have to believe that Saddam was a good guy when Reagan armed him, a
bad guy when Bush's daddy made war on him, a good guy when Cheney was doing
business with him, and a bad guy when Bush needed a "we can't find Bin Laden" diversion.

20) You have to believe that the lumber from the last one percent of old growth U.S. forests is well worth the destruction of those forests and the extinction of the several species of plants and animals therein.

21) You believe that the public has "a right to know" about the adulterous affairs of Democrats, while those of Republicans are a "private matter".

22) You have to believe that the public has a right to know what the government is doing, but that Bush was right to censor those 28 pages from the Congressional 9/11 report because you just can't handle the truth.

23) You support state's rights, which means Ashcroft telling states what locally passed voter initiative he will allow them to have.

24) You have to believe that Aid to Mothers with Dependent Children is wasteful, but giving tax breaks to companies moving American jobs overseas is just what government is for.

25) You have to believe that trade with Cuba is wrong because it is communist, but trading with China and Vietnam is just dandy.

Right on the money, ehh facist right-wing nuts?

TOP TEN!

2003-11-17T09:32:00.000-05:00

Well!

Potch's Place was just voted to the top 10 weekly blogs over at Blogger Forum!

See the nifty little button above the archives? Click it and see!

WOW!

Goodnight, Cap'tn. Video...

2003-11-12T09:08:00.000-05:00

Thanks for the laughs, Art. You'll be missed.

Old Faces In New Places

2003-11-02T23:27:00.000-05:00

Last night, the boys in the band--remember the band? The three of us who were what this blog was originally all about?--played our very first show at Union's "Paddy's Place".

Paddy's Place is owned by Pat, a very friendly likeable guy who happens to be the drummer in a local cover band, The Dirty Water Dogs.

Jerry, the bartender (who actually is the one who booked us here) is an old friend of our from back at another local bar he used to work at. (Check out the picture section of our website and you'll find him all over the place) He booked this show with us back in March (busy boys we are these days) and we've been waiting for it to finally happen.

And happen it DID!

It was a great show, with a big crowd who was into our whole All-Request thing! The bar, whixh used to be the "infamous" Spaeter Club across from where Jahn's restaurant used to be, is much brighter and cleaner now under Pat's management. It was an honest delight to play there.

It was also great seeing Jerry again after so much time. Of course, we had to invite him up for a song.

It was also great to see Frank and Tommy and Michelle and The Boykos come out to see us!

But what REALLY blew my mind was that between sets, I was talking to a couple for a while and found out that they were both musicians in their own bands.

She is the lead singer for a band I had seen once called "JD Smoothie", a three piece acoustic act with Jen as the lead singer.

He is Vic, guitarist in a band called "Enough Said". But, and here's the strange part, he gave me his card and asked me to put him on our E-Mailing list. I looked at his name, and then back at him, then back at the card.

"Did you happen to own your own printing company in Maplewood about 15 years ago?"

"Uh, yeah... I did..."

I slapped my forehead.

Vic is Victor Nichols. He and his brother printed up all the flyers and promotions for my mom and I when we reopened our pizzeria in 1987 after my dad died. Even Blair (who worked for us) remembered him from picking up flyers at his house one day.

Talk about a small world!

And I can thank Jerry and Pat and "Paddy's Place" for this little impromptu reunion!

Also, a big thanks to everyone there for a great night! We look forward to returning on THANKSGIVING EVE!!!

AARON BLEEPING BOONE!

2003-10-17T02:55:00.000-04:00

For the last twenty-five years, Boston fans have been muttering Bucky FUCKING Dent whenever they have thought to the Yankees.

Or even Bill FUCKING Buckner when thinking of the city of New York.

Now add Aaron FUCKING Boone to the list.

His leadoff, first pitch home run off Tim Wakefield in the 11th inning about 2.5 hours ago broke Boston Red Sox fans hearts EVERYWHERE.

Although, if you ask me, it shouldn't be so much of Aaron FUCKING Boone for them, as it should be Pedro FUCKING Martinez, You Stupid, Prideful PUNK!

Congrats to Boston's other 24 players and their coaching staff. I can honestly say I have NEVER been so worried about a baseball series IN MY LIFE. They played their asses off (even the hated Manny "The Lazy Showboat" Ramirez) and pushed this Yankee team to the limit.

Congrats also to the Cubbies, for if nothing else, beating the hated Braves after Javy "Bigmouth" Lopez claimed "They can't beat us."

Also, big congrats to one of the feistiest teams I've seen since... Well, since last year's Anaheim Angels, The Florida Marlins!

Also, since I haven't written since the playoffs started, a big congrats to Ron Gardenhire and the scrappy Twins!

And, of course, a BIG congrats to the New York Yankees, going back to the World Series for the THIRTY-NINTH time!

Let's hope for a great series!

Playoffs!

2003-09-30T09:53:00.000-04:00

Ahhh yes, the culminating month every baseball fan hopes for...

The Playoffs.

Thankfully, my beloved Yankees had a great season and won their division. In three-and-a-half hours, they open the playoff season just mere miles from my job at The Home Office of Baseball, Yankee Stadium. 161st and River Avenue.

Got my fingers crossed, hoping, pulling, praying for a win... (And a Red Sox, Braves & Giants loss...)

But, as I learned WAY back in 1995, you take NOTHING for granted in the playoffs, ESPECIALLY in a short series.

So, unlike MOST Yankee fans (or the COUNTLESS wagon-jumpers), you will not hear me get cocky about ONE DAMNED THING until all is said and done. (Except maybe the past, but that's history and doesn't affect now... Cause if a Red Sox fan gets uppity on me, I'm gonna have to slap him with 1918 and 26...)

Good luck to all of you and your teams, unless they are playing my beloved Yanks. Cause then, you go to hell. You go to hell and you die!

No, not really.

Well, yeah, really.

No. NOT really.

Unless you're a Red Sox, Braves or Giants fans. Yeah, THEN go to hell...

8^)

The above was all said in the spirit of good fun, baseball team fanaticism and South Park fandom. If you don't get that, get OFF my blog please.

Happy Birthday!

2003-09-27T14:30:00.000-04:00

I want to send out a BIG ole' happy birthday wish to my compadre, Rob Matsushita!

You old fuck, ya!

Theory On God, Man And Hypocracy

2003-09-19T10:21:00.000-04:00

I suppose I will get flamed for this, but hey, this is about being honest, ain't it?

Let me preface this by saying, off the bat, I am a faithful Agnostic and will not be swayed by any arguements to try and get me to change my mind.

You don't agree, that's fine. You wanna bitch me out for being a heathen? That's fine, too.

But don't for a second believe you can "save me". I don't need saving.

That said, welcome to my rant.

I think all those people who question: "Why would God let something so terrible as 9/11 happen?", question if he/she exists, or their belief in him BECAUSE of 9/11 are all FRIKKING HYPOCRITES.

WHY?

A terrorist attack on America that kills 3,000 people makes you lose your faith in God, but THE HOLOCAUST, Stalin butchering 20 MILLION Russians, Idi Amin, Vlad The Impaler, Ivan The Terrible, The Spanish Inquisition or for that matter the GENOCIDE our own countries forefathers committed on the American Indians are all OKEYDOKEY from your GOD?

Get off my planet, you narrow minded ASSHOLES.

Never in my life have I believed more that all religions, even Buddhism (perhaps the most sane of ALL religions, but also asks for support of the Tibetan Freedom fund) are just ways to throw the wool over people's eyes and/or bilk them of their money.

My honest theory about Jesus is that he was no messiah, nor a prophet, but perhaps the most effective evangelist with the best PR guys, EVER.

Hell, he didn't just HEAR God talk to him, he was his SON.

Why do I think this? Why do I speak this blaspheme?

Well, maybe this isn't a good enough reason for YOU, but to my logical, "see it to believe it" mind, it's good enough.

If I have learned one thing in this life, it is that a good portion of religious zealots believe that all holy documents for whatever religion, were written by God himself.

They were, in fact, written by MAN.

And MAN is driven by greed and power.

Always was, always has been.

Besides, you show me ONE person in the WORLD who can successfully argue why THEIR religion (of the 3,000-plus religions on earth) is the RIGHT one, the one we ALL should be following, and WITHOUT using "faith" in their arguement, and then MAYBE you've got a shot at converting me.

Look, all religions are basically, fundamentally and morally the same. Be good to each other. Do not kill. Do not rob. Do not sleep with your friend's wife.

It's the rest of the stuff that clouds EVERYTHING up.

I mean, how many wars have been fought in the name of God?

Yet almost EVERY religion in the world offers the paramount doctrine of "Thou Shalt Not Kill".

But it's okay for "Right To Life" supporters to KILL an abortion doctor.

It's okay for a Catholic PRIEST to torture Jews, Muslims, Hindus, etc. into submission or death, just to change their beliefs? (The Inquisition)

It's okay for a Palestinian to get on a bus in Jerusalem and blow himself and 30 Jews to death?

It's okay for the POPE himself to order the execution of England's heretic queen? (Queen Elizabeth I)

It's okay for a muslim in Afghanistan to pay off 19 men to crash four airplanes?

It's okay to herd millions of Jews into ovens? Or just shoot them in mass graves?

Not to you or me. To US these aren't right.

But to some folks, they are okay. They were GREAT ideas, meant to support their religion. (Or in Hitler's case the Aryan narion... One perfect Teutonic race under God...)

But all they DID was murder people.

"But we'd never doo that, Potch!"

Oh yeah?

Then I suppose it's ALSO okay to kill the American Indians, take their land, rape their women, smash their traditions and customs, stick them on these shitty reservations and leave them drunk and penniless because they are just heathens?

Or to keep African-Americans segregated until just a short, what, FIFTY years ago?

Or to beat a homosexual to death for no reason other than "God says it ain't natural"?

To NOT get involved in World War II DESPITE knowing for THREE years what Hitler was doing to the Jews?

Do I even need to BRING UP that we are STILL the only country EVER to detonate atomic weaponry in WAR?

Hiroshima? Nagasaki? We wiped those cities OUT.

Think we're not above concentration camps, what about the Japanese Internment camps?

How about the thoughts a good portion of us had after 9/11, to build these camps AGAIN? And put all the Arabs in America in there?

Or, maybe we should all just go live in a mansion, castrate ourselves, then commit suicide when a comet comes close to the planet.

Folks, look, I am not saying DON'T believe in God or religion, and I SURE am giving the very WORST examples here. But don't be so closed minded, or have blinders on.

Question things.

Look for answers.

And damn it, DON'T be so self-righteously POSITIVE your way is the only way or even RIGHT, because you can't PROVE that without using the word "faith".

And if someone tells you that their religion says to KILL someone else, they are flat out LYING.

Youmay not believe me when I say this, but I believe in God now, as I did as a child. That belief didn't END when my father was murdered, nor when 3,000 people were butchered before my eyes. It was always there when reading about Hitler, Stalin, Ivan The Terrible, or any other form of genocide.

Why?

God gives us free will. He doesn't MAKE us do these terrible things to each other. We CHOOSE to do them. We choose WHO we do them to, just like we choose to blame GOD for our doing them.

But GOD had nothing at ALL to do with it.

People criticized Muhammed Ali for being a conscientious objector to Vietnam. If you paid attention to your religion, we ALL would be.

God says it's wrong to kill, but if your GOVERNMENT tells you to, it's okay?

Who came up with THAT line of bullshit?

MAN did.

Greedy, power hungry man.

Who sends someone ELSE'S kids to fight his fights for him, whether they agree with it or not.

I don't get it.

I don't see God as a bearded old white man, a ancient Chinese philosopher, a hammer-weilding Norseman, a tunic wearing Egyptian Goddess or what have you.

I don't see him/her as anything.

I see God as a benevolent force who allows ALL free will, and does not punish us for those choices.

Because to offer free will then punish us for exercizing that free will?

That would be HYPOCRITICAL.

And since when does the idea of God, ANY God, ever give you the idea that he is subject to the same inconsistancies and foibles that WE are?

If it ain't fittin', it ain't fittin'.

It ain't fittin'.

And, thanks to my friend Rob Matsushita, this now all has a name, as well...

The Potcher Church Of The Almighty Theyallscrewya.

The Wrongly Right Reverend Potcher presiding...

An Incredibly Sad Day...

2003-09-12T09:37:00.000-04:00

As if being the second anniversary of the most infamous day in American history wasn't bad enough...

(Of which I could write volumes about my feelings and pain and where I was and blah, blah, blah... But I'll just say simply to all the families and friends of victims of that atrocity, you are still in our hearts and our prayers. You always will be.)

But on top of that, I wake up to get the double fisted whallop of the death of country music legend Johnny Cash (admittedly not all that surprising) and of television legend John Ritter (a complete shock).

And in light of what yesterday represents to so many, it seems a bit... Stupid to mourn for famous millionaires who I will never know...

But, aren't said "famous" people also almost like a odd extension of each of our own worlds?

If they weren't why would anyone EVER make a big deal about meeting celebrities?

It's because they are in the public eye, and in Cash and Ritter's case for decades. They are part of the world each of us knows. These are people, though we have never met them, who we have watched on tv (sharing a half an hour of their lives with us at a time) or listened to on the radio, on tapes, records, or cds (again, sharing a piece of themselves with us all).

As so, when a "famous" person who we respect or like dies, we are saddened, because like when a loved one dies, you know they'll never share anything else with you. And so, you feel a tiny bit emptier.

The death of two men yesterday pales in comparison to what the thousands upon thousands of people had to deal with by the calendar simply turning another day, making the date September 11th again.

But, in all likelyhood, these two men DID touch your life in some way, so you probably do feel a little bit of hurt for them as well.

And that's okay.

There's no reason you can't send your prayers out to the Cash & Ritter families as well as the families devasted by 9/11. And if you want to, go ahead.

I know I will.

Sadly, now, at tonight's gig, I will have three tributes to play, instead of just two.

9/11
Warren Zevon
Johnny Cash

Maybe I'll even break into an a capella, "Come and knock on our door..."

You will all be missed.

Peace.

Finally Some GOOD News Folks!

2003-09-09T12:13:00.000-04:00

Hold on to your hats, folks...

Berke Breathed is busting out "Bloom County" again!

Starting Nov. 23rd, "Opus", a Sunday only comics will start running in newspapers!

And in the face of terrorism, Bush, Hussein, debt, AIDS, abortion and the ilk, my GOD do we need this man back at work again!

I guess it all got so bad that even Breathed realized there's just SO much fodder out there to sling shit at...

Mr. Breathed, I, a child of the 80's and a HUGE fan of yours, welcome you back with open arms and a simple, "it's been too long, friend."

Sleep Well, Bard Of The Intellectual

2003-09-08T09:34:00.000-04:00

Received the news I had been dreading for about a year now.

Singer-Songwriter, Warren Zevon, has died at age 56 of cancer.

I'll be the first to admit, I am no great fan of Zevon's. I don't own every album he's done, in fact I own exactly two. I have never seen him in concert, or even downloaded many songs of his.

But, I have been an admirer since my teens of his witty brand of tongue in cheek humor that he brought to his songs. A brilliant, unconventional lyricist and storyteller who had this great rock and roll voice.

Just last week, I picked up his swan song album, "The Wind", written in the weeks following his announcement that he was dying of lung cancer. It may not be his best work, and certainly not his happiest, but it shows a bravery, a longing, and points no fingers.

Above all, he never once asks, "Why me?"

He acdcepted his fate, and "The Wind" was as much about him straightening up his affairs as putting together a will.

He expresses longing to spend time with family and loved ones, regret over the loss of the love of his life, and finally, in a song that honestly brought me to tears on the first listen, the cd's final track which simply asks to "Keep Me In Your Heart For A While."

To the man who once named an album "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead", I can simply say that I shall.

And to hope, Mr. Zevon, that you sleep well.

Peace.

My Inner Child Can Kick Your Inner Child's ASS, Bitch!

2003-09-05T10:37:00.000-04:00

I just had to know...

So I can tell my wife the next time she looks at me with that weird face and says, "How old ARE you?"

My inner child is sixteen years old!

Life's not fair! It's never been fair, but while
adults might just accept that, I know
something's gotta change. And it's gonna
change, just as soon as I become an adult and
get some power of my own.

How Old is Your Inner Child?
brought to you by Quizilla

Those mafargaddin' bastidges!

2003-09-04T13:50:00.000-04:00

Thanks again to the one and only Pope Buck I, the responses to the first half of my last post...

The second part, about congress having it's own retirement plan, paid for by OUR Social Security funds, THAT SHIT MUST CHANGE.

But, as Buck also pointed out to me: the Republicans currently have a majority in
both Houses of Congress, and so are free to change this situation whenever they want.

But, apparently, the first part is all bunk.

Read on, chillun...

Thursday, July 25, 2002
Social Security Myths

Every now and again, we get MonkeyMail at MyDaddy'sBlog. This one contains a whole series of Social Security myths designed to demonstrate how the GOP is really the party out to protect Social Security.

Q. Which party took Social Security from an independent fund and put it in the general fund so that Congress could spend it?

A. It was Lyndon Johnson and the Democratic-controlled House and Senate.

Not unless LBJ was President in 1985. The Senate also had a GOP majority in 1985.

A typical scare tactic, regardless. If the US Treasury isn't able to meet its obligations, we've got bigger problems than just meeting Social Security.

Q. Which party put a tax on Social Security?

A. The Democratic party.

Amazing. The Democrats were able to accomplish this despite a GOP majority in the Senate and a Republican in the White House in 1983?

From the conservative thinktank (kind of an oxymoron) National Center for Policy Analysis: "Social Security benefits were not subject to tax prior to the 1983 Social Security Amendments, which imposed taxes on up to half of benefits for single retirees with "modified adjusted gross income" over $25,000 and for couples with income over $32,000. (Modified adjusted gross income includes all ordinary adjusted gross income, plus half of Social Security benefits, plus income from tax-exempt bonds.)

Affected retirees must add 50 cents in benefits to taxable income for every dollar by which their income exceeds these thresholds until half of their benefits become subject to tax. The revenues from this tier of tax are dedicated to the Social Security retirement trust fund."

Q. Which party increased the tax on Social Security?

A. The Democratic Party with Al Gore throwing the deciding vote.

True. But there was an extenuating circumstance. From the above link: "The revenue from this tier is dedicated to the Medicare trust fund. The bill would replace the money lost to the Medicare trust fund by crediting it with an equal amount of other tax revenue, in effect using some future general revenues to pay a portion of Medicare outlays."

Q. Which party decided to give money to immigrants? That's right, an immigrant moves to this country at 65 and gets SSI Social Security.

A. The Democratic Party gave that to them although they never paid any money into it.

When all else fails, let's throw out a little immigrant-bashing-red meat.

Of course, this charge is utter baloney. A legal immigrant must have resided in this country for at least 5 years or accumulate 40 quarters of work credit.

I could also point out the famous Rand Study which demonstrated immigrants--of all ages--paid far more into the Social Security system than they received in benefits but that's overkill. The Republicans must be really getting nervous about the midterm elections to spam the 'net with these falsehoods and misrepresentations.

posted by Guy Cabot at 6:55 PM

THOSE MAFARGADDIN' BASTIDGES!!!

Being Fair

2003-09-04T13:33:00.000-04:00

Got this e-mail today from my old friend, George Dybicki.

Being fair, since most of my rants lean to the LEFT, I figured I'd post a view from the other side.

Especially since, it raises a very fair point.

And remember what Henry Rollins says, kids: "Listen to your enemies. Listen to their point and views, how else can you expect to be prapared to have a war of words with them?"

True dat.

So all NON Republicans, listen up!

THIS is what they are saying and they HAVE a point!

Subject: Fw: Social Security,WHO SHOULD WE VOTE FOR?

Since many of us have paid into FICA for years and are now
receiving a Social Security check every month -- and then
finding that we are getting taxed on 85% of the money we paid to the Federal government to "put away," you may be interested in the following:

Q: Which party took Social Security from an independent fund and put it in the general fund so that Congress could spend it?

A: It was Lyndon Johnson and the Democratic-controlled House and Senate.

Q: Which party put a tax on Social Security?

A: The Democratic Party.

Q: Which party increased the tax on Social Security?

A: The Democratic Party with Al Gore casting the deciding vote.

Q: Which party decided to give money to immigrants?

A: That's right, immigrants moved into this country and at 65
got SSI Social Security. The Democratic Party gave that to them although they never paid a dime into it.

Then, after doing all this, the Democrats turn around and tell
you the Republicans want to take your Social Security.

And the worst part about it is, people believe it!

Pass it on please!

2004 Election Issue

This must be an issue in "04". Please!

Keep it going.

SOCIAL SECURITY:

(This is worth the read. It's short and to the point.)

Perhaps we are asking the wrong questions during election years.

Our Senators and Congressmen & women do not pay into Social
Security and, of course, they do not collect from it.>>>>>

You see, Social Security benefits were not suitable for persons of their rare elevation in society. They felt they should have a special plan for themselves.

So, many years ago they voted in their own benefit plan.

In more recent years, no congressperson has felt the need to
change it. After all, it is a great plan.

For all practical purposes their plan works like this:

When they retire, they continue to draw the same pay until they die, except it may increase from time to time for cost of living adjustments.

For example, former Senator Byrd and Congressman White and their wives may expect to draw $7,800,000.00 (that's Seven Million, Eight-Hundred Thousand Dollars), with their wives drawing $275,000.00 during the last years of their lives.

This is calculated on an average life span for each.

Their cost for this excellent plan is $0.00. Nada.

Zilch. This little perk they voted for themselves is free to
them. You and I pick up the tab for this plan. The funds for
this fine retirement plan come directly from the General Funds - our tax dollars at work!

From our own Social Security Plan, which you and I pay (or have paid) into - every payday until we retire (which amount is matched by our employer) - we can expect to get an average $1,000 per month after retirement. Or, in other words, we would have to collect our average of $1,000. monthly benefits for 68 years and one (1) month to equal Senator Bill Bradley's benefits!

Social Security could be very good if only one small change were made.

That change would be to jerk the Golden Fleece Retirement Plan
from under the Senators and Congressmen. Put them into the
Social Security plan with the rest of us... then sit back and
watch how fast they would fix it..

If enough people receive this, maybe a seed of awareness will be planted and maybe good changes will evolve.

How many people can YOU send this to?

Hmmm, I wonder...

So George, how do you feel about your mom and dad?

2003-09-03T15:15:00.000-04:00

Courtesy of that fine, slimmed-down statue of sexiness, Pope Buck I.

So George, how do you feel about your mom and dad?

Psychologist Oliver James analyses the behaviour of the American president

Tuesday September 2, 2003
The Guardian

As the alcoholic George Bush approached his 40th birthday in 1986, he had achieved nothing he could call his own. He was all too aware that none of his educational and professional accomplishments would have occured without his father. He felt so low that he did not care if he lived or died. Taking a friend out for a flight in a Cessna aeroplane, it only became apparent he had not flown one before when they nearly crashed on take-off. Narrowly avoiding stalling a few times, they crash-landed and the friend breathed a sigh of relief - only for Bush to rev up the engine and take off again.

Not long afterwards, staring at his vomit-spattered face in the mirror, this dangerously
self-destructive man fell to his knees and implored God to help him and became a
teetotalling, fundamentalist Christian. David Frum, his speechwriter, described the
change: "Sigmund Freud imported the Latin pronoun id to describe the impulsive, carnal,
unruly elements of the human personality. [In his youth] Bush's id seems to have been
every bit as powerful and destructive as Clinton's id. But sometime in Bush's middle
years, his id was captured, shackled and manacled, and locked away."

One of the jailers was his father. His grandfather, uncles and many cousins attended both his secondary school, Andover, and his university, Yale, but the longest shadow was cast by his father's exceptional careers there.

On the wall of his school house at Andover, there was a large black-and-white photograph of his father in full sporting regalia. He had been one of the most successful student athletes in the school's 100-year history and was similarly remembered at Yale, where his grandfather was a trustee. His younger brother, Jeb, summed the problem up when he said, "A lot of people who have fathers like this feel a sense that they have failed." Such a titanic figure created mixed feelings. On the one hand, Bush worshipped and aspired to emulate him. Peter Neumann, an Andover roommate, recalls that, "He idolised his father, he was going to be just like his dad." At Yale, a friend remembered a "deep respect" for his father and when he later set up in the oil business, another friend said, "He was focused to prove himself to his dad."

On the other hand, deep down, Bush had a profound loathing for this perfect model of
American citizenship whose very success made the son feel a failure. Rebelliousness was an unconscious attack on him and a desperate attempt to carve out something of his own. Far from paternal emulation, Bush described his goal at school as "to instil a sense of frivolity". Contemporaries at Yale say he was like the John Belushi character in the film Animal House, a drink-fuelled funseeker.

He was aggressively anti-intellectual and hostile to east-coast preppy types like his
father, sometimes cruelly so. On one occasion he walked up to a matronly woman at a smart cocktail party and asked, "So, what's sex like after 50, anyway?"

A direct and loutish challenge to his father's posh sensibility came aged 25, after he had
drunkenly crashed a car. "I hear you're looking for me," he sneered at his father, "do you
want to go mano a mano, right here?"

As he grew older, the fury towards his father was increasingly directed against himself in
depressive drinking. But it was not all his father's fault. There was also his insensitive
and domineering mother.

Barbara Bush is described by her closest intimates as prone to "withering stares" and
"sharply crystalline" retorts. She is also extremely tough. When he was seven, Bush's
younger sister, Robin, died of leukaemia and several independent witnesses say he was very upset by this loss. Barbara claims its effect was exaggerated but nobody could accuse her of overreacting: the day after the funeral, she and her husband were on the golf course.

She was the main authority-figure in the home. Jeb describes it as having been, "A kind of matriarchy... when we were growing up, dad wasn't at home. Mom was the one to hand out the goodies and the discipline." A childhood friend recalls that,"She was the one who instilled fear", while Bush put it like this: "Every mother has her own style. Mine was a little like an army drill sergeant's... my mother's always been a very outspoken person who vents very well - she'll just let rip if she's got something on her mind." According to his uncle, the "letting rip" often included slaps and hits. Countless studies show that boys with such mothers are at much higher risk of becoming wild, alcoholic or antisocial.

On top of that, Barbara added substantially to the pressure from his father to be a high
achiever by creating a highly competitive family culture. All the children's games, be
they tiddlywinks or baseball, were intensely competitive - an actual "family league
table" was kept of performance in various pursuits. At least this prepared him for life at
Andover, where emotional literacy was definitely not part of the curriculum. Soon after
arriving, he was asked to write an essay on a soul-stirring experience in his life to date
and he chose the death of his sister. His mother had drilled it into him that it was wrong
when writing to repeat words already used. Having employed "tears" once in the essay, he sought a substitute from a thesaurus she had given him and wrote "the lacerates ran down my cheeks". The essay received a fail grade, accompanied by derogatory comments such as "disgraceful".

This incident may be an insight into Bush's strange tendency to find the wrong words in
making public pronouncements. "Is our children learning?" he once famously asked. On
responding to critics of his intellect he claimed that they had "misunderestimated" him.
Perhaps these verbal faux-pas are a barely unconscious way of winding up his bullying
mother and waving two fingers at his cultured father's sensibility.

The outcome of this childhood was what psychologists call an authoritarian personality.
Authoritarianism was identified shortly after the second world war as part of research to
discover the causes of fascism. As the name suggests, authoritarians impose the strictest possible discipline on themselves and others - the sort of regime found in today's White House, where prayers precede daily business, appointments are scheduled in five-minute blocks, women's skirts must be below the knee and Bush rises at 5.45am, invariably fitting in a 21-minute, three-mile jog before lunch.

Authoritarian personalities are organised around rabid hostility to "legitimate" targets,
often ones nominated by their parents' prejudices. Intensely moralistic, they direct it
towards despised social groups. As people, they avoid introspection or loving displays,
preferring toughness and cynicism. They regard others with suspicion, attributing ulterior
motives to the most innocent behaviour. They are liable to be superstitious. All these
traits have been described in Bush many times, by friends or colleagues.

His moralism is all-encompassing and as passionate as can be. He plans to replace state
welfare provision with faith-based charitable organisations that would impose Christian
family values.

The commonest targets of authoritarians have been Jews, blacks and homosexuals. Bush is anti-abortion and his fundamentalist interpretation of the Bible would mean that gay practices are evil. But perhaps the group he reserves his strongest contempt for are those who have adopted the values of the 60s. He says he loathes "people who felt guilty about their lot in life because others were suffering".

He has always rejected any kind of introspection. Everyone who knows him well says how hard he is to get to know, that he lives behind what one friend calls a "facile,
personable" facade. Frum comments that, "He is relentlessly disciplined and very slow to
trust. Even when his mouth seems to be smiling at you, you can feel his eyes watching
you."

His deepest beliefs amount to superstition. "Life takes its own turns," he says, "writes
its own story and along the way we start to realise that we are not the author." God's
will, not his own, explains his life.

Most fundamentalist Christians have authoritarian personalities. Two core beliefs separate fundamentalists from mere evangelists ("happy-clappy" Christians) or the mainstream Presbyterians among whom Bush first learned religion every Sunday with his parents: fundamentalists take the Bible absolutely literally as the word of God and believe that human history will come to an end in the near future, preceded by a terrible, apocaplytic battle on Earth between the forces of good and evil, which only the righteous shall survive. According to Frum when Bush talks of an "axis of evil" he is identifying his enemies as literally satanic, possessed by the devil. Whether he specifically sees the battle with Iraq and other "evil" nations as being part of the end-time, the apocalypse preceding the day of judgment, is not known. Nor is it known whether Tony Blair shares these particular religious ideas.

However, it is certain that however much Bush may sometimes seem like a buffoon, he is
also powered by massive, suppressed anger towards anyone who challenges the extreme, fanatical beliefs shared by him and a significant slice of his citizens - in surveys, half of them also agree with the statement "the Bible is the actual word of God and is to be taken literally, word for word".

Bush's deep hatred, as well as love, for both his parents explains how he became a
reckless rebel with a death wish. He hated his father for putting his whole life in the
shade and for emotionally blackmailing him. He hated his mother for physically and
mentally badgering him to fulfil her wishes. But the hatred also explains his radical
transformation into an authoritarian fundamentalist. By totally identifying with an
extreme version of their strict, religion-fuelled beliefs, he jailed his rebellious self.
From now on, his unconscious hatred for them was channelled into a fanatical moral crusade to rid the world of evil.

As Frum put it: "Id-control is the basis of Bush's presidency but Bush is a man of fierce
anger." That anger now rules the world.

· Oliver James's book "They F*** You Up - How to survive family life" is published by
Bloomsbury, priced £7.99.

Review: "Psychos In Love" Adapted For The Stage By Rob Matsushita

2003-08-15T14:38:00.000-04:00

I'm gonna start this by saying I'm biased here, okay?

I mean, Rob Matsushita, the guy who adapted the 1987 movie Psychos In Love into this play, is one of my best friends, and I've known him for about 18 years now. (PLUS, I mean, we're writing a damned BOOK together... AND I am friendly with both his mother AND his wife, so I can't exactly TRASH him here...)

Plus...

I have spoken to both the movie's co-writer and director, Gorman Bechard, as well as it's star, co-writer and music composer, Carmine Capobianco.

UE's own resident human deity and all around slimmed-down statue of sexiness, Pope Buck I is the STAR...

I had drinks with Herman on Friday night.

I met and shook hands with Kate and Detective Sargant Harding.

Oh yeah, and I recorded the theme song as well as two other songs which have been used during intermissions.

So yeah, I'm just a LITTLE bit biased here.

But NEVER-THE-LESS, write on I shall.

Why?

Why not?

Hmmm?

Well, go ahead and tell me, why not?

No, not you... YOU shut up.

I mean the rest of you.

Didn't THINK so.

Shall I go on?

I think I shall.

Running for the next three weekends at Mad City's own Broom Street Theater (as seen above) is Rob Matsushita's adaptation of Gorman Bechard and Carmine Capobianco's movie, Psychos In Love.

The story of Psychos In Love centers around two main characters: Joe, excellently played by the hugable, teddy-bear of a guy, Buck Hakes, and Kate, awesomely played to the hilt by the curvacious Molly Vanderlin.

Both of them do excellent jobs in fleshing out their characters personalities, giving them little quirks and adding a basic humanity to the roles.

Why mention that they bring humanity to their roles?

Because both Joe and Kate are serial killers.

They have killed everyone they have dated since high school.

Especially those that like... Grapes.

Because they both HATE grapes.

Green grapes.

Purple grapes.

With seeds.

Without seeds.

In bunches, one at a time, or in small groups of twos and threes.

THEY. FUCKING. HATES. GRAPES!

OKAY?!

So here they are, these two grape hating, date slashing psychos.

Joe & Kate.

When fate brings them together (Sometime in the middle of the first act...), they are both poised to kill each other...

UNTIL...

The whole hatred of the grapes is brought up.

And then, like kismet...

We have Mutual of Understanding.

Now, right after this, the two (at first) hesitatingly admit their... Mental shortcomings...

Being a psychopathic serial slasher can be SUCH a downer on your dating life after all.

But soon, they reveal that, in fact, they are BOTH psychopathic serial killers and a good laugh is had by all...

And the way Matsushita has Hakes and Vanderlin play this whole scene is just brilliant. You believe they are going to kill each other, that they really DO fall for each other, that they are both afraid of admitting thier darkest secret to their newfound love, and then the giddiness when they realize they they truly are simpatico.

And all of it played for good laughs!

At this point is when we are introduced to our other characters.

First, Herman the Plumber From Hell (played in outlandishly funny, over-the-top form by Karl Reinhardt), who comes by people's homes, unclogs their drains, then kills them and uses his plumber's tool called a "Swirlie" to suck the blood and guts from his victims so he can... Ahem... DRINK it...

Hey, he IS a Plumber From Hell, what did you THINK he did, tickle your ass with flower petals?

The fourth main character of the play, Detective-Sergaent Cheyenne Harding, a tough, slightly psychotic, no-nonsense southerner who sees serial killers EVERYWHERE, played to perfection by Deanna Reed.

She picks up on Herman's trail (and kills both her partner and the Lab Tech for being "serial killers") and vows: "I swear by all that's holy, by the lives of the eighteen serial killers I've already killed in the nine months I've been on the job--that I shall hold the heart of the freak of fucking nature in my fuckin' hand while it still beats!"

I STILL smile when I think of this line...

Kathy Lynn Sliter (like all but Hakes and Vanderlin, playing several roles) gives a hillariously intense depiction of Debbie, a potential victim and a waitress/dancer at Joe's bar.

John Dipko gives a very funny turn in playing The ManiKiller and Some Jerk Weatherman.

Ali Mikulyuk is also very funny as Nikki, The Toughest Stripper In The World. (The character is killed about six times at the end of act one...)

With Joe & Kate being joined by the rest of the cast to sing the theme song for both the movie and play, "Psychos In Love", here featuring an ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT, SPELLBINDING, BREATHTAKING MUSICAL BACKING TRACK recorded by some person whose name currently eludes me...

Oh yeah... ME!

Thus endeth Act One, coming in at a manageable 40 or so minutes... (Shorter than it took you to read all my sniping and grousing...)

Act Two opens up with Detective-sergaent Harding calling for... HER STRIKE TEAM!

MUSIC SWELLS UP as a LARGE GROUP OF ARMED MEN marches in, briskly.

HARDING (CONT’D.): "Are we ready to hunt down some Jews?"

Music STOPS.

Welcome to Act Two folks.

And this ain't yo mama's Act Two!

This is Act Two as an over-the-top blitzkrieg of puns, guns, killings, action, and socio-politcal satire.

"Excuse me?"

Yeah?

"What was that last bit?"

Oh shut up, you'll see.

*BLAMMO*

Freaking po-ten-ti-al serial killers...

ANYWAY!

Joe and Kate, sitting in a tree...

K. I. L. L. I. N. G.

Back from a honey moon in Chicago of Wrigley Field, Joe & Kate find victims, semi-seduce them, and then each joylessly kill them.

Killin's just not what it used to be, it seems.

So, they come to a decision while at the crossroads of a major life event... (God, could I have made THAT line sound any cheesier?)

JOE: "Well, it could mean that as of this moment, we're ex-psycho killers."

So what do you do when you quit smoking?

Therapy.

Booze?

AA.

Drugs?

NA.

Anal Sctupping of Seagulls?

ASS Annonymous.

(Uhhhh, don't ask.)

So what do ex-psycho killers do when they try to quit?

Go to PSYCHO THERAPY of course!

Run by Hannibal Lechter (Dipko), and populated by Freddy Kreuger (Mikulyuk), Catherine Tremell (Sliter), Leatherface (Reinhardt), The Guy from "Scream" (Reed), Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees (played by Jess Weltenbeck), this is one of the funniest scenes in the whole play, good for many laughs (especially if, like me, you geek out over horror films), but ultimately devolving into an all out brawl amongst the psychos.

Joe and Kate?

They decide to go cold turkey.

Besides, counseling is for pussies.

Back at the bar, Kate calls Joe to tell him that they need a plumber.

GUESS WHO'S STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO JOE...

Ronald Reagan.

No seriously!

It was Ronnie the whole tim-...

I'm just funning with ya!

(I'm fooling you and you don't like it.)

It is, of course, Herman, The Plumber From HEEEEELLLLLLLL.

(That sounds kind of ominous... I like that...)

Herman, OF COURSE, offers his services, to which Kate quips: "Well, there’s no way that can end in disaster!"

All this brings us to the dramatic final sequence with a HUGE body count, guns a-plenty, a little move call "Gun kata" (Excellently done by Molly for a big hand), and a surprise little twist at the end.

All of which I'm NOT giving away.

Get off yer ass and go see the show.

"Oh, but POTCH... We don't LIVE in Madison..."

LIKE I MOTHERFUCKING DO!

I had to travel 820 GOD-DAMNED miles, in a PLANE (I HATE planes) just to see this show.

So I will accept NO excuses from ANY of you!

Besides...

The cast MIGHT let you get your picture taken with them.

In all seriousness, DESPITE my bias towards a friends work, "Psychos In Love" is one of the funniest plays I have ever seen.

When the show ended Friday, Sheila (my wife) turned to me and said, "Oh, we are SOOOO coming back on Sunday night!"

Can a greater compliment be paid?

The cast were all excellent. Their comic timing impeccable. The acting, quite believeable.

I do have to single out Molly Vanderlin and Buck Hakes and the two main characters, Kate and Joe. If THEY weren't good, especially together, the play would not work as well as it does. For that, kudos!

Also, Deanna Reed for being particularly and hillariously twisted in the role of Detective-sergaent Cheyenne Harding (who is the sister of West Covina Gloria Harding from Matsushita's play FACEvalue).

The music (aside from my own contributions) was well chosen and edited. (I especially liked when I walked in both nights to Tenacious D's "Lee")

To my friend Rob, I have to offer a sincere congrats on finishing his run at Broom Street with such a killer show. I have read and/or seen all seven of his plays, and I believe this one to be both the funniest and the best of them. You literally want to see it twice just to catch all the jokes.

And, perhaps the ultimate flattery...

You WILL be quoting this play for DAYS.

Sheila and I did all weekend (much to Rob's delight.)

So get off your ass, wherever that ass may be sitting right now, and find your way to 1119 Williamson Street, Madison, Wisconsin.

It's not THAT hard to find.

Hell, it's right in the middle of any map of the U.S. you have! (Unless you have one of the original 13 colonies... in which case, fuck off and give that to the SMithsonian you ass!)

Three weeks left to catch this very funny play, based on the movie of the same name...

Psychos In Love.

Luckiest Man Working In New York

2003-08-14T23:23:00.000-04:00

I took off from work 10 minutes early, at 3:50 PM.

BeCAUSE I did this, I saved myself from being STILL IN New York RIGHT FREAKING NOW.

I got ON the 4:15 bus at, yes, you got it, 4:11. I no sooner sat down than the power went down like an L.A. hooker on Hugh Grant.

I was, apparently. on one of the last busses out of NYC.

Yes, we were all pretty freaked driving through a BLACKENED tunnel, emerging to see a huge black cloud billowing up from NYC, to see the oil refinery's smoke stacks billowing FIRE, not just smoke...

But, I got home safe and sound to find my wife waiting for me in an air conditioned room, watching the news.

In all, I am TOTALLY lucky.

If I had left at my NORMAL time, I would have been ON the subway at 4:11 PM, trapped in the pitch black darness for HOURS. And then, getting to stand on 10,000 person deep lines over at the pier, trying to get on a ferry home.

You know what?

SCREW those bastards who look down at people who leave early!

Tonight is TOTAL justification on my part!

Lucky-assed mofo that I am.

To all those trapped in there, I REALLY feel for you. I hope you all get home safe and sound. (And maybe with a new Plasma TV you looted...)

Take it easy folks.

The Dude Abides

2003-07-22T09:30:00.000-04:00

Howdy!

I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry about that. I'll type an update for you all later today or tomorrow. Lotsa stuff going on around here.

But I wanted to write a small story about Lebowskifest

Last year, Will Russell and Scott Shuffitt, a couple of fans of the Coen Brothers movie "The Big Lebowski", found a willing bowling lane in Louisville, Kentucky, printed up $30 worth of flyers and held the first "Lebowskifest". About 150 people showed up.

This year, that number was up to about 1,000, and including Jeff Dowd, the man that Jeff Bridges character, Jeffrey "The Dude" Lebowski, was based on.

People drove from as far as California and Madison, Wisconsin. (And no, it wasn't our favorite playwrite.)

If you're a big fan of the under-rated comedy, like I am, you might want to check out either of the attached links about the fest.

And remember...

The Dude abides.

23 More For Tony And One Less For Harry

2003-06-18T10:42:00.000-04:00

Okay, I geek out about the DUMBEST things.

For instance, why do I consider it news that all the cast and crew of "The Sopranos" has agreed to a sixth season?

Because, despite my disappointment in a do nothing season four, I still love the show.

And now I have 23 more episodes to look forward to, instead of just 13!

Plus, the anticipation of new addition to the cast, STEVE BUSCEMI!

Ohhhh, YEAH!

I ALSO am obsessing over the news that in the fifth "Harry Potter" book, "Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix", author J.K. Rowling has killed off a main character.

This is BIG new for Potter fans, as not the speculation begins over who that character might be. Personally, I'm HOPING it's not Ron or Hermione.

I'm thinking it's likely Dumbledore. Perhaps Hagrid. It would fit in nicely with other similar type stories (look at Star Wars for example... Quai Gon AND Obi Wan die... They are teachers to Obi-Wan and Luke...)

So, here I await this Saturday's release of the fifth "Potter" story, and September's season five of "The Sopranos".

Also, a quick aside, I hear that Manchester United traded David Beckham (who "Bend It Like Beckham" is named for) to a Spanish team. Expect divorce papers to be filed by Posh Spice any day now...

300 Wins, 4,000 Strikeouts And Tight Pants

2003-06-17T12:52:00.000-04:00

Roger Clemens pitched his ass off Friday night in what was a tremendous game to watch, one in which he reached not one, but two HUGE milestones in his sure-to-be Hall-of-Fame career. He not only struck the 4,000th batter in his career (Edgar Renteria), but won his 300th game as well!

He is the first pitcher to get to 300 wins since Nolan Ryan did in 1993, and the first to reach 4,000 strikeouts since Ryan did in 1985.

I'm not gonna go into the whole "what hat will he wear" thing, as it's pointless to discuss until he's actually elected, but I do want to bring up this Late Show Top Ten List from yesterday.

Roger's Top 10

Top 10 things baseball has taught Roger Clemens, from last nights's Late Show with David Letterman.

10. I look sweet in tight pants.

9. If you work hard enough you can be successful, oh yeah, and it helps to have 8 all-stars on the field behind you.

8. There's not a damn thing to do in Milwaukee.

7. During a tense game I can eat 2 or 3 rosin bags.

6. You can melt an umpire's gruff exterior with a simple hug.

5. For Barry Bonds to be performing at this level at the age of 65 is truly remarkable.

4. The best practical joke? Tell a teammate they're traded to the Devil Rays.

3. It doesn't matter if you win or lose...Well, it didn't when I was on the Red Sox.

2. Good nickname: Rocket. Bad nickname: Lard-ass.

1. Adjusting your cup doesn't do anything...just makes you feel good.

My congrats to Roger "The Rocket" Clemens on these great acheivements!

New Look At Potch's Place

2003-06-10T16:32:00.000-04:00

In an effort to make this a cooler place to hang out, I have begun instituting some changes here at the Place.

First, not all the new links on the side, broken up into catagories.

Next, it's baseball season, so I got rid of the dark Overtime wallpaper and added, bright, white YANKEE wallpaper!

Hope you enjoy the changes to the site!

Oh Captain, My Captain!

2003-06-09T16:53:00.000-04:00

Last week, a pretty momentous occassion for us die-hard Yankee fans happened.

Derek Jeter was named the 11th Captain of the team.

The first since Don "Donnie Baseball" Mattingly retired in 1995.

Added to the list of Chase, Peckinpaugh, Ruth, Gehrig, Munson, Nettles, Randolph, Guidry, & Mattingly. (Yeah, I know I'm forgetting one, but like YOU would have known Chase & Peckinpaugh...)

This was a surprise to few Yankee fans, as Derek was unoffically the Captain since Donnie retired anyway, and despite his youth (he's not even 29 yet...) But let's look at this "kid" for a second here.

This is a guy who had four World Series rings by the age of 27, who is the only man ever to win an All-Star game MVP AND World Series MVP in the same season, a five time All-Star, who holds the career postseason hits record with 101.

A man who thrives under the biggest spotlight in sports, as the shortstop of the New York Yankees.

He's considered one of the top three in the game, his name ALWAYS being said in conjunction with Alex "A-Rod" Rodriguez and Nomar Garciaparra. (Who loses there is last year's AL MVP, Miguel Tejada, who is almost NEVER included in that group).

What makes Jeter great is his willingness to face the music at all times. He never shirks away from the media, no matter how banged up or down he might be after a loss.

He has been nothing but total class and an absolute joy to watch.

There is a very good chance he'll be above 1,500 hits by this year is over, likely at 1,600-plus by this 30th birthday. I would say his chances of getting to 3,000 hits are pretty good right now, if he can stay healthy.

He also has a decent shot at 1,000 runs scored by his 30th birthday (June 26, 2004, BTW).

Right now, you'd have to say, this kid has all the makings of a Hall-Of-Fame caliber player. If he has the length to his career, he should be right there.

There may be better home run hitters, guys who hit for higher average, better on base guys, better fielders, better stolen base guys, but how many put all those tools together AND are one of the best clutch players ever?

Derek Jeter does, and Derek Jeter deserves to have his name there with Ruth, Gehrig, Munson, and Mattingly.

My hats off to the Cap!

Cirque du Soleil: Varekai

2003-06-09T13:32:00.000-04:00

Every New Year's Day for two years running, my wife, Sheila, and I sit in front of the television for hours watching Bravo!

Every New Year's Day, they show a marathon of Cirque Du Soleil. From the first time I ever saw one of their shows on TV (about five years ago) I have been a big fan. I love the whole atmosphere, the look, the sound, everything.

As some of you may know, for the last two years, Sheila has been going to college full time. You may also know that on May 8th, at the PNC Bank Arts Center in Holdel, she graduated Magna Cum Laude from Kean University, with degrees in Early Childhood Education and Sociology.

Simply put, she worked her ass of for this, and deserved something special as a graduation present.

On, on May 1st, what do I see walking through the Subway here in New York? Posters with directions how to get to Cirque du Soleil on Randall's Island.

And the wheels started spinning.

A few days later I had won fantastic seats on e-bay for the May 11th show!

So the stage was set. Sheila was going to see her very first live show of Cirque du Soleil for her Graduation present!

Luckily, the tickets arrived in time to give them to her ON Graduation day.

Unluckily, come the day of the show, despite allowing 2 hours to travel all of 20 miles, we arrived 10 minutes late. (Thanks to REALLY foggy, wet weather, three accidents and the George Washington Bridge.)

So we walked in with the show already started, and we dazzled before we even got to our seats.

The show is centered around the old mythological story of the "Flight Of Icarus"

The show, production and music are all quite good, and some of the stunts are breath taking. The clowns, in traditional Cirque style, are offbeat and very funny. The show is about two and a half hours with a half hour intermission in the middle.

Instead of telling you about each different performer and what they do (since I wouldn't know proper terms or names and such), I'll just suggest that you all tune into Bravo! this coming Saturday night when "Varekai" premieres.

What makes this show kind of special is that Bravo! was running a Cirque reality program called "The Fire Within" which tracked several members of this troupe from the first rehearsal to opening night. So, when you see someone from the show, it's kind of like watching a friend perform in that strange "we all feel like public figures are people we know" kind of way.

The concessions were a bit pricey, but they had a combo of Varekai's CD and Tour Program for $27 which I thought was a good deal.

In all, if you live in the New York area and want to have a great time for a few hours, I HIGHLY recommend this show. It's one of my favorites! (Quidam being my fave... Which is on Bravo! tonight at 8 PM!)

Also, I just was this today over on Iwon.com. The new Vegas show for Cirque du Soleil, called "Zumanity", is going to be for a crowd of over 18 only! It is being called "Erotic cabaret".

I call it a must see! (Can't wait for the DVD...)

Is There Anything Left That Matters?

2003-06-03T09:20:00.000-04:00

I received the following in one of my many daily e-mails from His Holiness, Pope Buck I. Read on and THINK some, and you just might learn something before it's done... Hey, hey, hey...

Published on Thursday, May 29, 2003 by the National Catholic Reporter

Is There Anything Left That Matters? by Joan Chittister, OSB

This is what I don't understand: All of a sudden nothing seems to matter.

First, they said they wanted Bin Laden "dead or alive." But they didn't get him. So now they tell us that it doesn't matter. Our mission is greater than one man.

Then they said they wanted Saddam Hussein, "dead or alive." He's apparently alive but we haven't got him yet, either. However, President Bush told reporters recently, "It doesn't matter. Our mission is greater than one man."

Finally, they told us that we were invading Iraq to destroy their weapons of mass destruction. Now they say those weapons probably don't exist. Maybe never existed. Apparently that doesn't matter either.

Except that it does matter.

I know we're not supposed to say that. I know it's called "unpatriotic."

But it's also called honesty. And dishonesty matters.

It matters that the infrastructure of a foreign nation that couldn't defend itself against us has been destroyed on the grounds that it was a military threat to the world.

It matters that it was destroyed by us under a new doctrine of "pre-emptive war" when there was apparently nothing worth pre-empting.

It surely matters to the families here whose sons went to war to make the world safe from weapons of mass destruction and will never come home.

It matters to families in the United States whose life support programs were ended, whose medical insurance ran out, whose food stamps were cut off, whose day care programs were eliminated so we could spend the money on sending an army to do what did not need to be done.

It matters to the Iraqi girl whose face was burned by a lamp that toppled over as a result of a U.S. bombing run.

It matters to Ali, the Iraqi boy who lost his family - and both his arms - in a U.S. air attack.

It matters to the people in Baghdad whose water supply is now fetid, whose electricity is gone, whose streets are unsafe, whose 158 government ministries' buildings and all their records have been destroyed, whose cultural heritage and social system has been looted and whose cities teem with anti-American protests.

It matters that the people we say we "liberated" do not feel liberated in the midst of the lawlessness, destruction and wholesale social suffering that so-called liberation created.

It matters to the United Nations whose integrity was impugned, whose authority was denied, whose inspection teams are even now still being overlooked in the process of technical evaluation and disarmament.

It matters to the reputation of the United States in the eyes of the world, both now and for decades to come, perhaps.

And surely it matters to the integrity of this nation whether or not its intelligence gathering agencies have any real intelligence or not before we launch a military armada on its say-so.

And it should matter whether or not our government is either incompetent and didn't know what they were doing or were dishonest and refused to say. The unspoken truth is that either as a people we were misled, or we were lied to, about the real reason for this war. Either we made a huge - and unforgivable - mistake, an arrogant or ignorant mistake, or we are swaggering around the world like a blind giant, flailing in all directions while the rest of the world watches in horror or in ridicule.

If Bill Clinton's definition of "is" matters, surely this matters. If a president's sex life matters, surely a president's use of global force against some of the weakest people in the world matters. If a president's word in a court of law about a private indiscretion matters, surely a president's word to the community of nations and the security of millions of people matters.

And if not, why not? If not, surely there is something as wrong with us as citizens, as thinkers, as Christians as there must be with some facet of the government. If wars that the public says are wrong yesterday - as over 70% of U.S. citizens did before the attack on Iraq - suddenly become "right" the minute the first bombs drop, what kind of national morality is that?

Of what are we really capable as a nation if the considered judgment of politicians and people around the world means nothing to us as a people?

What is the depth of the American soul if we can allow destruction to be done in our name and the name of "liberation" and never even demand an accounting of its costs, both personal and public, when it is over?

We like to take comfort in the notion that people make a distinction between our government and ourselves. We like to say that the people of the world love Americans, they simply mistrust our government. But excoriating a distant and anonymous "government" for wreaking rubble on a nation in pretense of good requires very little of either character or intelligence.

What may count most, however, is that we may well be the ones Proverbs warns when it reminds us: "Kings take pleasure in honest lips; they value the one who speaks the truth." The point is clear: If the people speak and the king doesn't listen, there is something wrong with the king. If the king acts precipitously and the people say nothing,
something is wrong with the people.

It may be time for us to realize that in a country that prides itself on being democratic, we are our government. And the rest of the world is figuring that out very quickly.

From where I stand, that matters.

***A Benedictine Sister of Erie, Sister Joan is a best-selling author and well-known international lecturer. She is founder and executive director of Benetvision: A Resource and Research Center for Contemporary Spirituality, and past president of the Conference of American Benedictine Prioresses and the Leadership Conference of Women Religious. Sister Joan has been recognized by universities and national organizations for her work for justice, peace and equality for women in the Church and society. She is an active member of the International Peace Council.***

Imagine that folks, me AGREEING with someone from the Catholic church...

What is the world coming to?

Damn you G.W.B.!!! DAMN YOU TO HELL!!!

The Divine Gift Of Inspirado

2003-05-29T14:09:00.000-04:00

This morning I got hit with a stream-of-consciousness that was just... AMAZING.

It started out about a few ideas for upcoming chapters of the book Rob Matsushita and I are writing, Killer High. (Which we're premiering over at Wil Wheaton's Soapbox.

But THEN I started getting an idea or two about a book I've been writing. The same book I recently broke a seven year writer's block on.

So I jotted down everything I could think of, and the end result is, in one bus trip from Union, N.J. to Port Authority, N.Y. I basically plotted the ENTIRE second half of the book.

I was in shock and amazement at this. And suddenly I felt... GOOD...

I noticed for the first time in weeks that the sun was out, and it was like, "Wow..."

It was just a totally awesome feeling! I hope you might feel the same one day.

Now, I just have to finish writing the sucker!

Oh, and not that he's touting his accomplishments on his OWN blog, but I have in my greedy little paws the first draft of the next play by a certain friend in Wisconsin.

Yes, you may now all feel envy and jealousy at my expense.

HEE HEE! A good day thus far!

Dooku... You Ancient CRONE!

2003-05-27T09:41:00.000-04:00

Happy 81st birthday to Christopher Lee, the ancient bad guy from Star Wars II, Count Dooku/Darth Tyranus...

Samuel, can you take this please?

Sam: Listen you decrepit old bastard, you're a damned FINE actor, but you absolutely SUCK as a lightsabre wielding motherfucker! Sorry, but you're fired... We're replacing you with Brian Blessed, bitch.

Enjoy your birthday.

Waitresses (To Tip Or Not To Tip)

2003-05-26T10:06:00.000-04:00

Folks, I'm gonna go on a little rant here.

Yeah, Potchy, what ELSE is new?

But I'm serious, there's something going on that really chaffes my ass, but good.

People seem to have this problem with waitresses in this country. More importantly, in regards to tipping them. People think it's okay NOT to tip. Well it's not and I'll tell you why.

Take, for example, Mr. Pink's argument in Quentin Taratino's "Reservoir Dogs".

Mr. Pink does not tip because "...society says I gotta. I tip when somebody deserves a tip. When somebody really puts forth an effort, they deserve a little something extra.
But this tipping automatically, that shit's for the birds. As far as I'm concerned, they're just doin their job."

A "little" something extra.

The douchebag had COFFEE... How much more "little" can you get?

Well Mr. Pink goes on to explain: "Look, I ordered coffee. Now we've been here a long fuckin time, and she's only filled my cup three times. When I order coffee, I want it filled six times."

To which Mr. Blonde responds, "What if she's too busy?"

Which gets the response back, "The words "too busy" shouldn't be in a waitress's vocabulary."

Now what amazes me here is how many people think like this. You DEMAND that your waitresses always have the time to wait on you hand and foot.

Okay, Mr. Pink, continue with your wisdom. "These ladies aren't starvin to death. They make minimum wage. When I worked for minimum wage, I wasn't lucky enough to have a job that society deemed tipworthy."

I'll get into minimum wage and waitresses in a while. But he DOES make a point about people in other jobs not getting tips, which he backs up in this exchange.

Mr. White: "You don't have any idea what you're talking about. These people bust their ass. This is a hard job."

Mr. Pink: "So's working at McDonald's, but you don't feel the need to tip them. They're servin ya food, you should tip em. But no, society says tip these guys over here, but
not those guys over there. That's bullshit."

Also a point. Why DON'T you tip people in McDonald's? Or Arbys? Or even the guy pumping your gas?

Perhaps I'll rant about this point next.

But I digress.

Mr. White then offers this very valid (and true) point, "Waitressing is the number one occupation for female non-college graduates in this country. It's the one job basically any woman can get, and make a living on. The reason is because of tips."

To which Mr. Pink, in an effort to seem less non P.C. retorts with, "Hey, I'm very sorry that the government taxes their tips. That's fucked up. But that ain't my fault. it would appear that waitresses are just one of the many groups the government fucks in the ass on a regular basis. You show me a paper says the government shouldn't do that, I'll
sign it. Put it to a vote, I'll vote for it. But what I won't do is play ball. And this non-college bullshit you're telling me, I got two words for that: "Learn to fuckin type." Cause if
you're expecting me to help out with the rent, you're in for a big fuckin surprise."

Nice sentiment to begin with, but his ending... "Learn to fucking type"... A very out-dated line of thinking in the computer world, no?

So there is the one point, the public's feeling (and believe me, it's NOT as unpopular a though process as you'd believe) on tipping.

Why do it?

In fact, I saw this article on AOsmelL just the other day, by CNN's Jeanne Sahadi called "Tipping Not Optional"

Most people, if asked, will tell you a tip is meant to reward good service. But a lot of those same people will tip the same amount no matter what kind of service they get.

I know I have. As steamed as I can be when service is poor, I almost never can work up the gumption to stiff someone on the tip or to leave a miserly amount.

Why is that? Apparently, because as Americans we're neurotic, guilt-prone, and we don't want to be thought of as cheap or ignorant. At least those are some of the reasons that Cornell professor Michael Lynn has found in his 20 years of research on tipping behavior.

"The major reason people tip," said Lynn, "is to avoid social disapproval."

So much for rewarding good service.

In fact, Lynn, found that how customers rate service has a very small effect on the amount they choose to tip in restaurants. About 4 percent of the variability in tip size is due to their rating of the service provider, his research revealed. That's the same level of variability that the sun has on tip size. (Folks tend to tip more on sunny days.)

It also has been argued, Lynn said, that our willingness to tip regardless of service reflects a sense that the customer is in a better position financially than the server and wishes to avoid incurring the server's envy. A tip, then, is "a payment to reduce that envy," Lynn said.

It's also a way for the equality-minded to feel less guilty about being served. Looking across cultures, he has found that tips tend to be higher in countries where there is greater neuroticism about and intolerance of ambiguous situations.

Tip as incentive?

Psychosocial theories aside, though, there's another we reason tip. It's part of the cost of being served. If you think tipping is truly optional at restaurants, hair salons and hotels, I've got a bridge I'd like to sell you.

Tipping is expected. It's part of your bill, except that you need to do the math. (Personally I wish restaurant owners would pay table servers a living wage so they wouldn't rely so heavily on my tips for income. But then, the argument goes, owners would raise menu prices and lower-income families couldn't afford to eat out.)

Tipping experts recommend you tip a waiter or waitress 15 percent for adequate service, 20 percent for very good service and not less than 10 percent for very bad service. Why 10 percent for a bad time? Think of the busboys, the bartender and the hostess. In a lot of restaurants, a waitress pays out a percentage of her tips to others who help her serve you. By punishing her, you're punishing them.

You might think of the waitress, too. It's possible, just possible, the poor service you received was not really her fault. Maybe the kitchen was backed up or she was given too many tables to cover.

If you want to help cure bad service, rather than skip the tip, speak to the manager about the server's behavior or about what was wrong with your dinner, Lynn said.

So, what about that stupid tip jar?

I am not a fan of filling coffers at the coffee counter. When someone's serving me something that I could get myself but for the counter (and the line) between us, I don't consider it a convenience worth paying extra for.

Tipping experts agree with me on this one. There's no need to leave anything in the tip jar -- it's completely optional. If you're so moved to drop some change in, go crazy. If not, enjoy a guilt-free day.

Also a few good points, and she even had these two blurbs included...

So in summary, I'll respond to both "Reservoir Dogs" and Ms. Sahadi in this statement (which I e-mailed her).

Ms. Sahadi,

Regarding your article about tipping, I notice you left out one big point...

Waiters and waitresses have the lowest minimum wage in the country, at about $2.05/hour, or less than half the national minimum wage of $5.05/hour.

Why is this important?

Because it means they basically are getting paid off of their tips.

A typical waitress working an 8 hour shift will make $16.40 (before taxes) a DAY.

In 2003, who can live off of that?

No one. That's below poverty level, and you could make more money being on welfare.

You also did not take into account how many Americans don't feel ANY pressure to tip at ALL. I would say, as a conservative estimate, that the typical waitress in a small restaurant will get "stiffed" at least two to four times a day.

Or have a table of five (one below the standard 6 person automatic 15% gratuity added to the bill) who will run up a bill of, say, $150 and leave a dollar, or a dollar per person at the table. THIS happens also at a frequency of about two to four times a day.

So when you figure the average waitress handles maybe five tables at a time, and spends 3 hours of her time setting up and cleaning (And she's ONLY getting paid $2.05/hr. for those three hours of scrubbing and cleaning and cutting prep food and filling salt shakers...), leaving only five hours of "work", she may only see twenty-five customers in day day (if the restaurant she works in is packed her entire shift). And if of those twenty-five, eight of them barely give her a dime, she's now down to trying to get by with what the other 17 customers giver her.

And if THEY only had say soup and a coke, or a bagel and coffee, they're only leaving change or a dollar at the most.

As you might be able to tell, I know a thing ot two about what happens to a wait staff. That's because my wife has been a waitress for fifteen years, working her way through college.

Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to come home from a eight hour shift on your feet, smiling the whole time, being bossed around by morons to have a measly $20 in your pocket?

Which happens a hell of a lot more often than the days you come home with $100 or more.

I think your article only told one side of the equation, the consumers side. Which is bad because there are plenty of people out there who already have no problem at all with not tipping. Articles like this just give them more resolve, and change the mind of others who might tip.

I believe you have done a disservice to the hard working waiters and waitresses of this country by giving people a reason, no, and excuse to continue stiffing them.

Folks, all I'm saying is this: You may THINK you know the deal with waitresses, and why you shouldn't HAVE to tip them, and you know what, you DON'T have to.

But you should NOT tip them knowing THEIR side of it.

Because discounting their side would just be you being CHEAP!

To close, I leave you with Joe's fine sentiment from "Reservoir Dogs"

"Cough up the buck, ya cheap bastard, I paid for your goddamn breakfast."

Oh My Goodness...

2003-05-24T10:33:00.000-04:00

Courtesy of the fine folks over at Blinktag...

Click on the title above for the funniest condom commercial EVER...

It'll make you cringe, but you be laughing your ass off.

George And Samuel L. Discuss The New Star Wars Movie

2003-05-20T14:20:00.000-04:00

Sam and George, having a beer after a day of shooting "Star Wars: Episode Three The Search For More Loot"

George: So, how do you think it's going Sam?

Sam: George... George...

George: What's up Sam?

Sam: You fucked up!

George: What? What do you mea-...

Sam: Listen you stupid cracker-assed-cracker! This shit AIN'T no fucking STAR WARS, okay? Stop killing the cool bad guys! Kill that old fucker, Dooku! Write a SIMPLE mother-fucking storyline! And for God-fucking sakes, get that Jar Jar shit OUT of your fucking head! Be cool, bitch!

George: So you think having Obi-Wan study for sixty-eight differnt law degrees and having Amidala fall in love with C-3PO is a BAD idea?

Sam: YES, MOTHER FUCKER!

George: Okay, so PADME will study for the degrees and OBI-WAN will fall in l-...

Sam: Look you fat-faced asshole! I'm mother-fucking SHAFT here, okay? Why don't I kick ass at ALL!

George: We could have you battle a deadly Ewok...

Sam: George! That's it! I'm tying your ass up and bringing in Woo-baby, Tarantino and the Wachowskis... Fuck it, and those Coen assholes too! We're gonna MAKE this fucker work!

And!!! Coming soon from Lucasfilmed Inc...

Episode 7: "The legend Of Curly's Gold."

Episode 8: "Ernest In Space"

Episode 9: "For The Love Of God Someone Please Tell George He Sucks"

A Few Thoughts

2003-05-19T13:11:00.000-04:00

First, let me offer condolences to Johnny Cash and his family at the passing of June Carter Cash last week.

Second, I'd like to send out best wishes for speedy recovery to Luther Vandross and Barry White after their recrnt strokes. Hope to see you both singing again soon.

Third, speaking of Luther, his new single, "Dance With My Father Again" is just AWESOME... (But a tearjerker...)

Fourth, the season finale of 24 is tomorrow and I have NO IDEA how they are getting out of this...

Fifth, where did all my comments go?

Sixth, just recently got into the 21st century by buying a Toughbook laptop computer. Plan is to use it for writing. Wish me luck.

Seventh, saw both "The Matrix Reloaded" and "The Graduate" for the first time yesterday. Made the mistake of trying to watch ANY movie after the Matrix...

Eight, threw Sheila a surprise graduation party on Saturday with the MUCH appreciated help of my mom, Sue & Fred Hoth, Jina & Doug Orlando, Rocky & Jeannine Thompson and PAttie & Stephen Seraphin. It was a great party and everyone had a mah-vel-ous time! Wish you could have been there.

Ninth, found a $100 bill going into the theater yesterday! YIPPEE!!!

Tenth, please wish my wife some luck as now the hard part begins... The search for a job.

Oh, and one other thing... What the FUCK is this?

Do you SEE the looks on these character's FACES?!?! They are GIDDY to be DYING?! Click the picture to go to the LAW OFFICES this is advertising for... Complain. PLEASE!

Talk at you again soon...

An American Treasure: Kurt Vonnegut

2003-05-15T13:48:00.000-04:00

I received this from the lovely and talented Buck Hakes!

Published on May 9, 2003 by In These Times

Strange Weather Lately
by Kurt Vonnegut

[The following is adapted from a Clemens Lecture presented in April for
the Mark Twain House in Hartford, Connecticut.]

First things first: I want it clearly understood that this mustache I'm
wearing is my father's mustache. I should have brought his photograph.
My big brother Bernie, now dead, a physical chemist who discovered that
silver iodide can sometimes make it snow or rain, he wore it, too.

Speaking of weather: Mark Twain said some readers complained that there
wasn't enough weather in his stories. So he wrote some weather, which
they could insert wherever they thought it would help some.

Mark Twain was said to have shed a tear of gratitude and incredulousness
when honored for his writing by Oxford University in England. And I
should shed a tear, surely, having been asked at the age of 80, and
because of what I myself have written, to speak under the auspices of
the sacred Mark Twain House here in Hartford.

What other American landmark is as sacred to me as the Mark Twain House?
The Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C. Mark Twain and Abraham Lincoln
were country boys from Middle America, and both of them made the
American people laugh at themselves and appreciate really important,
really moral jokes.

I note that construction has stopped of a Mark Twain Museum here in
Hartford -behind the carriage house of the Mark Twain House at 351
Farmington Avenue.

Work persons have been sent home from that site because American
"conservatives," as they call themselves, on Wall Street and at the head
of so many of our corporations, have stolen a major fraction of our
private savings, have ruined investors and employees by means of fraud
and outright piracy.

Shock and awe.

And now, having installed themselves as our federal government, or taken
control of it from outside, they have squandered our public treasury and
then some. They have created a public debt of such appalling magnitude
that our descendants, for whom we had such high hopes, will come into
this world as poor as church mice.

Shock and awe.

What are the conservatives doing with all the money and power that used
to belong to all of us? They are telling us to be absolutely terrified,
and to run around in circles like chickens with their heads cut off. But
they will save us. They are making us take off our shoes at airports.
Can anybody here think of a more hilarious practical joke than that one?

Smile, America. You're on Candid Camera.

And they have turned loose a myriad of our high-tech weapons, each one
costing more than a hundred high schools, on a Third World country, in
order to shock and awe human beings like us, like Adam and Eve, between
the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers.

The other day I asked former Yankees pitcher Jim Bouton what he thought
of our great victory over Iraq, and he said, "Mohammed Ali versus Mr.
Rogers."

What are conservatives? They are people who will move heaven and earth,
if they have to, who will ruin a company or a country or a planet, to
prove to us and to themselves that they are superior to everybody else,
except for their pals. They take good care of their pals, keep them out
of jail-and so on.

Conservatives are crazy as bedbugs. They are bullies.

Shock and awe.

Class war? You bet.

They have proved their superiority to admirers of Abraham Lincoln and
Mark Twain and Jesus of Nazareth, with an able assist from television,
making inconsequential our protests against their war.

What has happened to us? We have suffered a technological calamity.
Television is now our form of government.

On what grounds did we protest their war? I could name many, but I need
name only one, which is common sense.

Be that as it may, construction of the Mark Twain Museum will sooner or
later be resumed. And I, the son and grandson of Indiana architects,
seize this opportunity to suggest a feature which I hope will be
included in the completed structure, words to be chiseled into the
capstone over the main entrance.

Here is what I think would be fun to put up there, and Mark Twain loved
fun more than anything. I have tinkered with something famous he said,
which is: "Be good and you will be lonesome." That is from Following the
Equator. OK?

So envision what a majestic front entrance the Mark Twain Museum will
have someday. And imagine that these words have been chiseled into the
noble capstone and painted gold:

Be good and you will be lonesome most places, but not here, not here.

One of the most humiliated and heartbroken pieces Twain ever wrote was
about the slaughter of 600 Moro men, women and children by our soldiers
during our liberation of the people of the Philippines after the
Spanish-American War. Our brave commander was Leonard Wood, who now has
a fort named after him. Fort Leonard Wood.

What did Abraham Lincoln have to say about such American imperialist
wars? Those are wars which, on one noble pretext or another, actually
aim to increase the natural resources and pools of tame labor available
to the richest Americans who have the best political connections.

And it is almost always a mistake to mention Abraham Lincoln in a speech
about something or somebody else. He always steals the show. I am about
to quote him.

Lincoln was only a Congressman when he said in 1848 what I am about to
echo. He was heartbroken and humiliated by our war on Mexico, which had
never attacked us.

We were making California our own, and a lot of other people and
properties, and doing it as though butchering Mexican soldiers who were
only defending their homeland against invaders wasn't murder.

What other stuff besides California? Well, Texas, New Mexico, Utah,
Nevada, Arizona, and parts of Colorado and Wyoming.

The person congressman Lincoln had in mind when he said what he said was
James Polk, our president at the time. Abraham Lincoln said of Polk, his
president, our armed forces' commander-in-chief: "Trusting to escape
scrutiny by fixing the public gaze upon the exceeding brightness of
military glory, that attractive rainbow that rises in showers of blood
-that serpent's eye, that charms to destroy, he plunged into war."

Holy smokes! I almost said, "Holy shit!" And I thought I was a writer!

Do you know we actually captured Mexico City during the Mexican War? Why
isn't that a national holiday? And why isn't the face of James Polk up
on Mount Rushmore, along with Ronald Reagan's?

What made Mexico so evil back in the 1840s, well before our Civil War,
is that slavery was illegal there. Remember the Alamo?

My great-grandfather's name was Clemens Vonnegut. Small world, small
world. This piquant coincidence is not a fabrication. Clemens Vonnegut
called himself a "freethinker," an antique word for humanist. He was a
hardware merchant in Indianapolis.

So, 120 years ago, say, there was one man who was both Clemens and
Vonnegut. I would have liked being such a person a lot. I only wish I
could have been such a person tonight.

I claim no blood relationship with Samuel Clemens of Hannibal, Missouri.
"Clemens," as a first name, is, I believe, like the name "Clementine,"
derived from the adjective "clement." To be clement is to be lenient and
compassionate, or, in the case of weather, perfectly heavenly.

So there's weather again.

Quick aside: R.I.P. Robert Stack, better known as Elliot Ness of "The Untouchables"

Another Hard Rock Legend Falls

2003-05-14T13:49:00.000-04:00

Didn't mention this, but the other day, legendary bassist for the Jimi Hendrix Experience, Noel Redding, passed away... My condolences to his family, he was one of the best.

And the jam band in heaven keeps getting better and better, man...

Decided LACK Of A Gift For The Obvious

2003-05-12T09:51:00.000-04:00

Thumbs down to the Daily News for reporting something WE ALL ALREADY KNEW!!!

I guess the logic train passed RIGHT ON FUCKING BY the editor's desk over there, huh?

HELLO!

OF COURSE JFK did an intern. He did Marilyn Monroe too! Hell, he probably fucked half the women in North America too, you stupid asshats! In fact, he probably schtupped your MOM, okay? Or at LEAST your grandmother... In fact, BOTH your grandmothers, AND your mom, and his son diddled your sister, okay?

You idiots...

THIS IS NOT FUCKING NEWS, OKAY?!?!

Happy Birthday To Potch's Place!!!

2003-05-02T09:07:00.000-04:00

Well folks, here it is.

May 2nd, 2003.

One year ago today, I started this little venture hoping to give updates about the band and such. What it has grown into is basically a place for me to rant and rave about all kinds of kooky stuff. (Also, hence the name change a few months back from Overtime's Daily Weblog to simply Potch's Place)

I would like to thank those of you who have been along for the ride for the last year, with a special thank you to Rob Matsushita, Russ Unger and Rusty Worden for helping me out and giving me forums to air my ill-tempered rhetoric.

One thing I would like to say is I am hoping (with fingers crossed) that the NEXT year of Potch's Place will be even bigger and better. As some of you know, Rob and I have been writing a book called Killer High (which we've been posting over at that Wil Wheaton fellas Soapbox), which we are hoping to finish some time over the summer. I have also recently restarted work on a sci-fi book I was working on years ago (breaking a seven-year writer's block in the process!)

I have also been working (slowly, but surely) with Russ on making LeePotcher.com a reality, where I'll post song lyrics, poems, short stories and longer ones.

So, I have some reasons to be encouraged that the next year is gonna be pretty damned spiffy.

Again, thanks to all of you for coming by and allowing me to rant and rave to you for a while.

FUCK FALWELL!

2003-04-30T09:48:00.000-04:00

Jerry Falwell...

Like YOU have ANY fucking credibility left, you ill-tempered, sanctimonious piece of shit.

This is Jerry Falwell I'm talking about here, who, let's face it, can't get his face in the news anymore unless he opens his mouth and says something... Well... MORONIC (remember the "we deserved this" comment on 9/12?) So he sees an opportunity to show just how American he really is by bashing the Dixie Chicks.

Look, again I say, NO ONE HAS BASHED OUR COUNTRY OR OUR TROOPS. But NOW you're un-American for voicing your disapproval of a decision of a President and his cabinet that DID NOT EVEN GET A MAJORITY OF THE DAMNED VOTE?!?!

Look, where were all you Un-American hate spewers when Bill Clinton was being called every damned name in the book and barely even being supported by his OWN party? WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU THEN?!?!?! Oh, that's right, YOU WERE LEADING THE HATE SPEWING!

Screw you guys, I'm going home.

You here. Me there.

(And by home, I mean Aruba.)

Blame Fogerty?

2003-04-29T16:55:00.000-04:00

So some asshat here in New York sued John Fogerty for $5 million, claiming he lost a signifigant amount of hearing in his left ear due to "excessive noise" at the show.

Dude...

You're suing John-FUCKING-Fogerty? The man who walked away from his OWN songs because his fucktard bandmates and brother screwed him royally? Who was sued for plagarizing? HIMSELF? AND HE BEAT THE RAP?

Dude, pick on another rock star for this bullshit.

Stupid ain't selling at John's house.

Dixie Hotties

2003-04-25T13:21:00.000-04:00

Forget calling'em the Dixie Chicks. They are the Dixie Hotties from now on. (Even the little, mouthy one is hot nekkid!)

And again I say, WHAT IS THE BIG FUCKING DEAL ABOUT WHAT THEY SAID?!?!?!

Last time I checked, you could say: "fuck the pope, the presdient and God" and BE PROTECTED BY THE FIRST AMENDEMENT in saying so.

Mediawhores fuck off.

Since When Does Speaking Your Opinion Warrant Being Un-American?

2003-04-04T09:43:00.000-05:00

Look folks. I think this has all gotten WAY out of friggin' line.

People are BOYCOTTING the Dixie Chicks for speaking their mind. Michael Moore gets visciously booed by about 20 people for speaking his mind. Now fans walk out of a Pearl Jam concert in Denver last night because Eddie Vedder took a Bush mask and put it on his mic stand to perform the song "Bushleaguer"

Which is anti-Bush to begin with.

"He's not a leader, he's a Texas Leaguer."

"Born on third, thinks he got a triple."

So Eddie Vedder makes a statement. People took offense and walked out. Fine. Everyone is in their public rights to do both.

But why does this become a news story?

Why is the fucking media so frigging "Toe the damned line, public!" on this war which has opponents EVERYWHERE.

Why does this become "news"?

Now there will be a public backlash against the Chicks, Moore and Pearl Jam. All because the media thinks this is newsworthy.

You know, I've gotten to the point where I just don't know who the fuck to trust with news anymore. I mean, you actually have these news channels saying in their OWN advertising, "We don't tell you WHAT to think, we just give you all the options so you can make up your OWN mind."

Bullshit.

Something my friend Rob told me rings AWFULLY true here. "You can't make a documentary without slanting it to your own agenda. The second you start filming, you're not telling the truth anymore."

He told me thes when I mentioned that someone we know was not the biggest fan of Michael Moore because he slants everything to the direction HE wants it to be.

Well, that may be, but he's still saying something that NEEDS to be said.

But my point is, I don't think ANY news source on American TV these days is being TRULY objective.

I think I'm gonna start getting my news from The Onion or something.

Oh, and BTW, I saw this ad posted on a wall at Port Authority.

file under: not just another stupid white man

MICHAEL MOORE for President!

Thank you, Michael Moore, for defying the Hollywood establishment and revealling to the US and the rest of the world the truth about George Bush and his criminal war on Iraq. Long live free speech!

WBAI 99.5: The truth about US Foreign Policy.

Just thought I'd share that with you all.

Fuck CMT And Misinformation

2003-04-01T11:33:00.000-05:00

Okay, walking from Port Authority to the Subway station at 42nd and 7th today, I saw a disturbing advertisement. Two actually, but both from CMT. Country Music Television.

Now, let me preface this by saying I actually LIKE country music. It is not my favorite, but I DO enjoy it. I especially like: Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Kenny Rogers, Travis Tritt, Jerry Reed, Randy Travis, Dolly Parton, Faith Hill, Shania Twain & The Dixie Chicks.

I have never before had a problem with CMT. Hell, I even watch it occasionally.

But these ads...

Well, here's one:

Tattoos:
Eminem: 8
Dixie Chicks: 27

Okay... FIRST of all, I have ONE tattoo, the Yankees interlocking "N.Y." on my left arm. It's probably about four square inches. It took 45 minutes to do, from outlining to coloring.

I would BET that mine small tat took longer and covers more body space than all 27 of the Chicks.

They have birds feet tattooed on their feet. Nine each, one for every goal they've accomplished. This is the equivalent of getting a small rose tattoed on your foot.

Let ALONE that you're comparing 27 tattoos among three girls to 8 tattoos on one guy. Individually, they each only outnumber him by one. In actually body space covered, they can't TOUCH him.

MISINFORMATION.

The second one:

Number One Hits:
Michael Jackson: 12
Alan Jackson: 20

And this is why I say FUCK CMT.

You backwards-assed podunk assholes are gonna MAKE me defend that freakish pedophile, Michale Jackson.

You rednecked asshats.

Michael Jackson has had 12 OVERALL SALES #1's. ALAN Jackson has had 20 COUNTRY CHART ONLY #1 hits.

You propaganda, spewing fucktards.

A WARMONGER EXPLAINS WAR TO A PEACENIK

2003-03-27T10:30:00.000-05:00

Received this courtesy of the lovely and talented Buck Hakes, who received it courtesy of the lovely and talented Rob Matsushita.

(And yes, I'm confident enough in my own sexuality to call them both talented... )

8^)

A WARMONGER EXPLAINS WAR TO A PEACENIK
By Anonymous

PeaceNik: Why did you say we are we invading Iraq?

WarMonger: We are invading Iraq because it is in violation of security council resolution 1441. A country cannot be allowed to violate security council resolutions.

PN: But I thought many of our allies, including Israel, were in violation of more security council resolutions than Iraq.

WM: It's not just about UN resolutions. The main point is that Iraq could have weapons of mass destruction, and the first sign of a smoking gun could well be a mushroom cloud over NY.

PN: Mushroom cloud? But I thought the weapons inspectors said Iraq had no nuclear weapons.

WM: Yes, but biological and chemical weapons are the issue.

PN: But I thought Iraq did not have any long range missiles for attacking us or our allies with such weapons.

WM: The risk is not Iraq directly attacking us, but rather terrorists networks that Iraq could sell the weapons to.

PN: But coundn't virtually any country sell chemical or biological materials? We sold quite a bit to Iraq in the eighties ourselves, didn't we?

WM: That's ancient history. Look, Saddam Hussein is an evil man that has an undeniable track record of repressing his own people since the early eighties. He gasses his enemies. Everyone agrees that he is a power-hungry lunatic murderer.

PN: We sold chemical and biological materials to a power-hungry lunatic murderer?

WM: The issue is not what we sold, but rather what Saddam did. He is the one that launched a pre-emptive first strike on Kuwait.

PN: A pre-emptive first strike does sound bad. But didn't our ambassador to Iraq, April Gillespie, know about and green-light the invasion of Kuwait?

WM: Let's deal with the present, shall we? As of today, Iraq could sell its biological and chemical weapons to Al Quaida. Osama BinLaden himself released an audio tape calling on Iraqis to suicide-attack us, proving a partnership between the two.

PN: Osama Bin Laden? Wasn't the point of invading Afghanistan to kill him?

WM: Actually, it's not 100% certain that it's really Osama Bin Laden on the tapes. But the lesson from the tape is the same: there could easily be a partnership between al-Qaida and Saddam Hussein unless we act.

PN: Is this the same audio tape where Osama Bin Laden labels Saddam a secular infidel?

WM: You're missing the point by just focusing on the tape. Powell presented a strong case against Iraq.

PN: He did?

WM: Yes, he showed satellite pictures of an Al Quaeda poison factory in Iraq.

PN: But didn't that turn out to be a harmless shack in the part of Iraq controlled by the Kurdish opposition?

WM: And a British intelligence report...

PN: Didn't that turn out to be copied from an out-of-date graduate student paper?

WM: And reports of mobile weapons labs...

PN: Weren't those just artistic renderings?

WM: And reports of Iraqis scuttling and hiding evidence from inspectors...

PN: Wasn't that evidence contradicted by the chief weapons inspector, Hans Blix?

WM: Yes, but there is plenty of other hard evidence that cannot be revealed because it would compromise our security.

PN: So there is no publicly available evidence of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq?

WM: The inspectors are not detectives, it's not their JOB to find evidence. You're missing the point.

PN: So what is the point?

WM: The main point is that we are invading Iraq because resolution 1441 threatened "severe consequences." If we do not act, the security council will become an irrelevant debating society.

PN: So the main point is to uphold the rulings of the security council?

WM: Absolutely. ...unless it rules against us.

PN: And what if it does rule against us?

WM: In that case, we must lead a coalition of the willing to invade Iraq.

PN: Coalition of the willing? Who's that?

WM: Britain, Turkey, Bulgaria, Spain, and Italy, for starters.

PN: I thought Turkey refused to help us unless we gave them tens of billions of dollars.

WM: Nevertheless, they may now be willing.

PN: I thought public opinion in all those countries was against war.

WM: Current public opinion is irrelevant. The majority expresses its will by electing leaders to make decisions.

PN: So it's the decisions of leaders elected by the majority that is important?

WM: Yes.

PN: But George Bush wasn't elected by voters. He was selected by the U.S. Supreme C...-

WM: I mean, we must support the decisions of our leaders, however they were elected, because they are acting in our best interest. This is about being a patriot. That's the bottom line.

PN: So if we do not support the decisions of the president, we are not patriotic?

WM: I never said that.

PN: So what are you saying? Why are we invading Iraq?

WM: As I said, because there is a chance that they have weapons of mass destruction that threaten us and our allies.

PN: But the inspectors have not been able to find any such weapons.

WM: Iraq is obviously hiding them.

PN: You know this? How?

WM: Because we know they had the weapons ten years ago, and they are still unaccounted for.

PN: The weapons we sold them, you mean?

WM: Precisely.

PN: But I thought those biological and chemical weapons would degrade to an unusable state over ten years.

WM: But there is a chance that some have not degraded.

PN: So as long as there is even a small chance that such weapons exist, we must invade?

WM: Exactly.

PN: But North Korea actually has large amounts of usable chemical, biological, AND nuclear weapons, AND long range missiles that can reach the west coast AND it has expelled nuclear weapons inspectors, AND threatened to turn America into a sea of fire.

WM: That's a diplomatic issue.

PN: So why are we invading Iraq instead of using diplomacy?

WM: Aren't you listening? We are invading Iraq because we cannot allow the inspections to drag on indefinitely. Iraq has been delaying, deceiving, and denying for over ten years, and inspections cost us tens of millions.

PN: But I thought war would cost us tens of billions.

WM: Yes, but this is not about money. This is about security.

PN: But wouldn't a pre-emptive war against Iraq ignite radical Muslim sentiments against us, and decrease our security?

WM: Possibly, but we must not allow the terrorists to change the way we live. Once we do that, the terrorists have already won.

PN: So what is the purpose of the Department of Homeland Security, color-coded terror alerts, and the Patriot Act? Don't these change the way we live?

WM: I thought you had questions about Iraq.

PN: I do. Why are we invading Iraq?

WM: For the last time, we are invading Iraq because the world has called on Saddam Hussein to disarm, and he has failed to do so. He must now face the consequences.

PN: So, likewise, if the world called on us to do something, such as find a peaceful solution, we would have an obligation to listen?

WM: By "world", I meant the United Nations.

PN: So, we have an obligation to listen to the United Nations?

WM: By "United Nations" I meant the Security Council.

PN: So, we have an obligation to listen to the Security Council?

WM: I meant the majority of the Security Council.

PN: So, we have an obligation to listen to the majority of the Security Council?

WM: Well... there could be an unreasonable veto.

PN: In which case?

WM: In which case, we have an obligation to ignore the veto.

PN: And if the majority of the Security Council does not support us at all?

WM: Then we have an obligation to ignore the Security Council.

PN: That makes no sense.

WM: If you love Iraq so much, you should move there. Or maybe France, with all the other cheese-eating surrender monkeys. It's time to boycott their wine and cheese, no doubt about that.

PN: I give up!

Return To The Dark Side

2003-03-26T09:15:00.000-05:00

On a lighter note, last night EMI held a cd release party for a new High definition version of Pink Floyd's seminal classic, "The Dark Side Of The Moon".

Released to the public today for about the cost of a regular cd, this new version has remastered the original analog tapes onto 5.1 Dolby Surround Sound.

Click on the title to read all about it.

On a Floyd-related side note... If you don't own it, go out and buy Roger Waters' "Amused To Death", released in 1992 as a reaction to the first war with Iraq, it is as valid now as it was then. Take special note of "The Bravery Of Being Out Of Range".

Folks, this cd is simply the BEST non-Floyd effort any of the five member has produced. It SHOULD have been a Floyd album.

The Courage Of His Convictions

2003-03-24T10:07:00.000-05:00

Most people took the middle of the road approach.

Cause whether you agree or disagree, it's really all about just one thing.

Bring them back home, safely.

And no one should be faulted for their taking that millde road.

Hell, I admit that though I have a definite opinion about this war, on Friday night, while playing at Cryan's, we did a trigute to our soldiers defending freedom, asking that, "No matter what opinion you may have on the war, we all agree on one thing... Bring them back home, safely."

I was working FOR the bar. If I go spouting off about my opinion, I run the risk of pissing off or alienating the crowd. That would be a fireable offense.

But... Sometimes...

VOICE OVER

A way out in the mid-west there was a fella, fella I want to tell you about, fella by the name of Michael Moore. At least, that was the handle his lovin' parents gave him, but he never had much use for it himself. This Moore, he called himself the Dude. Now, Dude, that's a name no one would self-apply where I come from. But then, there was a lot about the Dude that didn't make a whole lot of sense to me. And a lot about where he lived, like- wise. But then again, maybe that's why I found the place s'durned innarestin'.

VOICE OVER

They call Los Angeles the City of Angels. I didn't find it to be that exactly, but I'll allow as there are some nice folks there. 'Course, I can't say I seen London, and I never been to France, and I ain't never seen no queen in her damn undies as the fella says. But I'll tell you what, after seeing Los Angeles and this ahere story I'm about to unfold--wal, I guess I seen somethin' ever' bit as stupefyin' as ya'd see in any a those other places, and in English too, so I can die with a smile on my face without feelin' like the good Lord gypped me.

INTERIOR KODAK THEATER

It is late, but the theater is nowhere near deserted. We are tracking in on a fortyish man in an ill-fitting tux and missing his trademark baseball cap (Tigers) in the crowd. He is the Dude. His rumpled look and relaxed manner suggest a man in whom casualness runs deep.

He is waiting patiently as they are about to announce the catagory his documentary "Bowling For Columbine" is nominated in, Best Documentary.

VOICE OVER

Now this story I'm about to unfold took place back in the early last night--just about the time of our conflict with Sad'm and the Eye-rackies. I only mention it 'cause some- times there's a man--I won't say a hee-ro, 'cause what's a hee-ro?--but sometimes there's a man.

The Dude glances furtively about as his name is called as winner of the Oscar.

VOICE-OVER
And I'm talkin' about the Dude here--sometimes there's a man who, wal, he's the man for his time'n place, he fits right in there--and that's the Dude, in Los Angeles.

The camera follow The Dude as he grabs everyboy and their mother to join him on the stage in his rumpled tux.

Somwhere a small black and white telelvision shows George W. Bush speaking.

GEORGE W. BUSH
This aggression will not stand. . . This will not stand!

The Dude, having seen this clip earlier, walks up the stage at the Kodak Theater, friends in tow.

VOICE-OVER
...and even if he's a crazy man, and the Dude was certainly that--quite possibly the craziest in Los Angeles County.

The Dude accepts his Oscar and holds it up. Later, he'll be making out a check to Ralph's for sixty-nine cents.

VOICE-OVER
...which would place him high in the runnin' for craziest worldwide--but sometimes there's a man. . . sometimes there's a man.

The Dude steps to the microphone, Oscar in hand. He is receiving a standing ovation.

VOICE-OVER
Wal, I lost m'train of thought here. But--aw hell, I done innerduced him enough.

The dude opens his mouth and makes history.

THE DUDE
On behalf of our producers Kathleen Glynn and Michael Donovan from Canada, I'd like to thank the Academy for this.

I have invited my fellow documentary nominees on the stage with us, and we would like to — they're here in solidarity with me because we like nonfiction.

We like nonfiction and we live in fictitious times.

We live in the time where we have fictitious election results that elects a fictitious president.

We live in a time where we have a man sending us to war for fictitious reasons.

Whether it's the fictition of duct tape or fictition of orange alerts we are against this war, Mr. Bush.

Shame on you, Mr. Bush, shame on you.

And any time you got the Pope and the Dixie Chicks against you, your time is up.

Thank you very much.

The Dude walks off to a thunderous round of applause and boos.

(Thanks to The Coen Brothers for the unauthorized lifting of "The Big Lebowski.")

Folks, whether you agree, disagree or agree but think we should support our troops in Iraq, you have to say one thing, Michael Moore DEFINITELY has the courage of his convictions.

He is unafraid to speak his mind on any subject at any time.

Which is EXACTLY what the First Amendment is all about.

Mr. Moore, I applaud your courage to speak your mind.

But I'll add this thought as well...

From Mr. Ani DiFranco (tounge firmly in my cheek there)

"Face Up And Sing"

Some chick says, "Thank you for saying all the things I never do."
I say, "The thanks I get is to take all the shit for you."
It's nice that you listen, it'd be nicer if you joined in
As long as you play their game girl, you're never going to win

Speak up!

BRING THE BOYS BACK HOME

2003-03-21T15:18:00.000-05:00

I have seen the end of Vietnam and hostages in Iran.
I have seen the Son Of Sam and Bernie Goetz.
I have seen John Lennon and Collumbine.
I have seen 9/11.
I have seen Desert Storm.
I have seen family members of mine murdered.

I have had enough.

Stop the world, please, I'd like to get off.

Right now, Baghdad is in flames as "Shock and Awe" has begun.

In North Korea, there's a madman building a button to put his finger on.

Somewhere in the Middle East is a son of a bitch who is responsible for taking thousands of innocent lives.

WHAT THE FUCK?!

I mean, come on folks. WHAT. THE. FUCK!

Flame me in the comments, I don't frikkin' care.

This war sickens me.

The Dixie Chicks have been pulled off of EVERY country station in the U.S. because they said they were ashamed of Bush. Well, take me off too then, cause I can't stand the bastard.

In fact, let me speak to you all through the magic of lyrics. If you know these songs, cool. If not, I suggest downloading them.

Hey, can we send them to Bush?

Bushleaguer by Pearl Jam

How does he do it? How do they do it? Uncanny and immutable.
This is such a happening tailpipe of a party.
Like sugar, the guests are so refined, (look like melting mice)

A confidence man, but why so beleagued?
He's not a leader, he's a Texas leaguer
Swinging for the fence, got lucky with a strike
Drilling for fear, makes the job simple
Born on third, thinks he got a triple

Blackout weaves its way through the cities
Blackout weaves its way through the cities
Blackout weaves its way,...

I remember when you sang
That song about today
Now it's tomorrow and
Everything has changed

A think tank of aloof multiplication
A nicotine wish and a colossus decanter
Retrenchment and foolishness
"What's the buckos?"
The raves have not a clue
The immenseness of suffering
And the odd negotiation, a rarity
With onionskin plausibility of life,
And a keyboard reaffirmation

Blackout weaves its way through the cities
Blackout weaves its way through the cities
Blackout weaves its way,...

I remember when you sang
That song about today
Now it's tomorrow and
Everything has changed

Ball Of Confusion by The Temptations

People movin' out,
People movin' in.
why, because of the color of their skin
run, run, run, but you sho' can't hide
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,
vote for me and I'll set you free
rap on, brother, rap on

The only person talkin' about love thy brother is the preacher
and it seems nobody's interested in learning
but the teacher
Segregation, determination, demonstration, integration,
Aggravation, humiliation, obligation to our nation

Ball of Confusion
Oh yeah, That's what the world is today, Hey,hey

The sale of pills are at an all time high
young folks walkin' around with their heads in the sky
the cities aflame in the summertime (Eddie):And, oh
The beat goes on
Evolution, revolution, gun control, the sound of soul
shooting rockets to the moon
kids growing up too soon
politicians say more taxes will solve everything
And the band played on
So, round and around and around we go
where the world's headed, nobody knows

Oh, Great Googamooga, can't you hear me talkin' to you
just a Ball of Confusion, oh yeah
that's what the world is today, hey

Fear in the air, tension everywhere
Unemployment's rising fast,
the Beatles' new record's a gas
And the only safe place to live
is in an Indian Reservation
And the band played on
Eve of destruction, tax deduction
City inspectors, bill collectors
Mod clothes in demand
Population out of hand
Suicide, too many bills
hippies moving to the hills,
people all over the world are shouting "End the War"
And the band played on

Oh, Great Googamooga, can't you hear me talkin' to you
Just a Ball of Confusion,
that's what the world is today, hey

Imagine by John Lennon

Imagine there's no heaven,
It's easy if you try,
No hell below us,
Above us only sky,
Imagine all the people
living for today...

Imagine there's no countries,
It isnt hard to do,
Nothing to kill or die for,
No religion too,
Imagine all the people
living life in peace...

Imagine no possesions,
I wonder if you can,
No need for greed or hunger,
A brotherhood of man,
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say Im a dreamer,
but Im not the only one,
I hope some day you'll join us,
And the world will live as one.

The Bravery OF Being Out Of Range by Roger Waters

You have a natural tendency to squeeze off a shot
You're good fun at parties, you wear the right masks
You're old but you still like a laugh in the locker room
You can't abide change, you're at home on the range
You open the suitcase behind the old workings
To show off the magnum, you deafen the canyon
A comfort a friend only upstaged in the end by the Uzi machine gun
Does the recoil remind you, remind you of sex
Old man what the hell you gonna kill next
Old timer who you gonna kill next

I looked over Jordan and what did I see
Saw a US Marine in a pile of debris
I swam in your pools and lay under your palm trees
I looked in the eyes of the Indian who lay on the Federal Building steps
And through the range finder over the hill
I saw the frontline boys popping their pills
Sick of the mess they find on their desert stage
And the bravery of being out of range
Yeah the question is vexed
Old man what the hell you gonna kill next
Old timer who you gonna kill next

Hey bartender over here, two more shots and two more beers
Sir turn up the TV sound, the war has started on the ground
Just love those laser-guided bombs, they're really great for righting wrongs
You hit the target and win the game from bars three thousand miles away
Three thousand miles away
We play the game with the bravery of being out of range
We zap and maim with the bravery of being out of range
We strafe the train with the bravery of being out of range
We gain terrain with the bravery of being out of range
With the bravery of being out of range
We play the game with the bravery of being out of range

When The Tigers Broke Free by Pink Floyd

It was just before dawn
One miserable morning in black 'forty four.
When the forward commander
Was told to sit tight
When he asked that his men be withdrawn.
And the Generals gave thanks
As the other ranks held back
The enemy tanks for a while.
And the Anzio bridgehead
Was held for the price
Of a few hundred ordinary lives.

And old King George
Sent Mother a note
When he heard that father was gone.
It was, I recall,
In the form of a scroll,
With gold leaf and all.
And I found it one day
In a drawer of old photographs, hidden away.
And my eyes still grow damp to remember
His Majesty signed
With his own rubber stamp.

It was dark all around.
There was frost in the ground
When the tigers broke free.
And no one survived
From the Royal Fusiliers Company C.
They were all left behind,
Most of them dead,
The rest of them dying.
And that's how the High Command
Took my daddy from me.

Masters Of War by Bob Dylan

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead

All we are saying is give peace a chance

Folks, I can't take this anymore...

Pray for our servicemen and women over there. Pray for their safe return home. Pray this ends as quickly as possible.

And pray the democrats can come up with SOMEONE to get this dude out of office next year...

More Random Thoughts

2003-02-28T16:12:00.000-05:00

Mr. Rogers has died. You know, if I allowed myself to REALLY think about it, I would probably start crying like I did when Sparky Schulz died.
In the past few months, I have discovered three shows on TV that I have instantly grown to LOVE: Oz, 24 and The Shield. If you haven't seen them yet, rent the damned DVD's. They are some of the best written, gritty shows TV has EVER attempted. Great, great stuff.
Couple of new websites to tell you about. (And what do you know, I am at least slightly involved in all three.) First, me and a few guys from my job have started Knickerbocker Movie Reviews, where each of us gives our own point of view on a movie. Second is a FARK-like site that was just started (with Drew from FARK's blessing, mind you) by my good friend Roughy at UE. What's it called? Blinktag.org. Third, Rob Matsushita and I have been collaborating on a story for a few months now and we've decided to start sharing it with the public. Check it out at Killer High.
The more I think about it, the more I think this whole bullshit in Iraq is about Bush Jr. trying to finish the job Bush Sr. started 13 years ago.
I saw something about Justin TImberlake. Apparently he's going to be guest starring on "Will & Grace" playing a gay guy. Shouldn't be too much of a stretch. Have you ever seen someone who looked so BAD trying to say things normal guys just SAY. Fucktard.
Watched the Grammy's last Sunday and have to admit, it was one of the better award shows I have seen in a while. Why? Well, for starters, NO ONE LIP SYNCHED. Norah Jones had a slight mistake. Faith Hill sounded like she was sick (but sang her fucking heart out anyway). It was GREAT. It was also nice to see people HONESTLY surprised to be winning. This whole youth group that's come in (save for Avril Lavigne who seems to have her attitude set on OVERKILL) seem to be a bunch of appreciative, humble people. Thank god, as bling bling is really starting to piss me THE FUCK OFF!

More some other time. Chew on those nuggets for now.

Leave It To Python...

2003-02-18T09:43:00.000-05:00

I just got this in my morning e-mails from his Holiness, Pope Buck I. (prooving that yes, I DO read them... Or at least some of them...)

All I'll say about it is this: Leave it to Terry Jones of Monty Python to put it all into perspective...

A letter to the London Observer from Terry Jones (of Monty Python).

Letter to the Observer

Sunday January 26, 2003

The Observer

I'm really excited by George Bush's latest reason for bombing Iraq: he's running out of patience. And so am I! For some time now I've been really pissed off with Mr Johnson, who lives a couple of doors down the street.

Well, him and Mr Patel, who runs the health food shop. They both give me queer looks, and I'm sure Mr Johnson is planning something nasty for me, but so far I haven't been able to discover what.

I've been round to his place a few times to see what he's up to, but he's got everything well hidden. That's how devious he is. As for Mr Patel, don't ask me how I know, I just know - from very good sources - that he is, in reality, a Mass Murderer. I have leafleted the street telling them that if we don't act first, he'll pick us off one by one. Some of my neighbours say, if I've got proof, why don't I go to the police? But that's simply ridiculous.

The police will say that they need evidence of a crime with which to charge my neighbours.

They'll come up with endless red tape and quibbling about the rights and wrongs of a pre-emptive strike and all the while Mr Johnson will be finalising his plans to do terrible things to me, while Mr Patel will be secretly murdering people.

Since I'm the only one in the street with a decent range of automatic firearms, I reckon it's up to me to keep the peace. But until recently that's been a little difficult. Now, however, George W. Bush has made it clear that all I need to do is run out of patience, and then I can wade in and do whatever I want!

And let's face it, Mr Bush's carefully thought-out policy towards Iraq is the only way to bring about international peace and security. The one
certain way to stop Muslim fundamentalist suicide bombers targeting the US or the UK is to bomb a few Muslim countries that have never threatened us.

That's why I want to blow up Mr Johnson's garage and kill his wife and children. Strike first! That'll teach him a lesson. Then he'll leave us in peace and stop peering at me in that totally unacceptable way.

Mr Bush makes it clear that all he needs to know before bombing Iraq is that Saddam is a really nasty man and that he has weapons of mass
destruction even if no one can find them. I'm certain I've just as much justification for killing Mr Johnson's wife and children as Mr Bush has for bombing Iraq.

Mr Bush's long-term aim is to make the world a safer place by eliminating 'rogue states' and 'terrorism'. It's such a clever long-term aim because how can you ever know when you've achieved it?

How will Mr Bush know when he's wiped out all terrorists? When every single terrorist is dead? But then a terrorist is only a terrorist once he's
committed an act of terror. What about would-be terrorists? These are the ones you really want to eliminate, since most of the known terrorists,
being suicide bombers, have already eliminated themselves.

Perhaps Mr Bush needs to wipe out everyone who could possibly be a future terrorist? Maybe he can't be sure he's achieved his objective until
every Muslim fundamentalist is dead? But then some moderate Muslims might convert to fundamentalism. Maybe the only really safe thing to do
would be for Mr Bush to eliminate all Muslims?

It's the same in my street. Mr Johnson and Mr Patel are just the tip of the iceberg. There are dozens of other people in the street who I don't like and who - quite frankly - look at me in odd ways. No one will be really safe until I've wiped them all out. My wife says I might be going too far but I tell her I'm simply using the same logic as the President of the United States. That shuts her up.

Like Mr Bush, I've run out of patience, and if that's a good enough reason for the President, it's good enough for me. I'm going to give the whole street two weeks - no, 10 days - to come out in the open and hand over all aliens and interplanetary hijackers, galactic outlaws and interstellar terrorist masterminds, and if they don't hand them over nicely and say 'Thank you', I'm going to bomb the entire street to kingdom come.

It's just as sane as what George W. Bush is proposing - and, in contrast to what he's intending, my policy will destroy only one street.

Some Links For You

2003-02-06T14:19:00.000-05:00

Couple of things...

Met up with my friend Chris this past Tuesday at Midtown Comics in the city.This place is like a comic book fan's Mecca. It has EVERYTHING...
When meeting with Chris, I also met for the first time his wife, Claire, who runs a store called Copabananas in Montclair, New Jersey. Check out the store or the website, as it, like Claire, is quite cool!
Just wanted to give a quick shout out (God, I am sooooo white bread...) to our old friend Jay and his band, The Arsons. Jay used to be the guitarist for the punk band, Warzone, as well as for an earlier version of Overtime called Self Defense.
You like TV? You want a website to laugh your ass off to? Check out Television Without Pity. It is addictive, so beware!
One last link for now. Musician, singer, & genius, Warren Zevon, has been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. The way he is dealing with it is nothing short of extraordinary to me. Check out this fabulous article on this very vital, very intelligent, quite amazing writer.

So, hope you enjoy!

Random Thoughts

2003-02-03T15:45:00.000-05:00

Just some random thoughts that have been kicking around in my head...

Soldier Of Fortune is one AWESOME frikkin' game for the PC. It is a first-person shooter game where you are essentially hunting bad guys. The cool thing, is it is EXTREMELY bloody! There are also like 26 individual spots on your targets body that can be hit. (And before you complain, hey, I gotta get my agression out somewhere...)
If you have ever read comic books, or even if you haven't, I suggest you all run out and pick up the beginning of Neil Gaiman's short-lived Sandman series. This series (along with The Dark Knight) turned the comic world upside down and helped put the emphasis back on writing from the art. I recently reread all 75 issues and have to say it still holds up quite well. The detail, the history, the storytelling are ALL awesome. And Gaimain's use of super-subtle foreshadowing is top-notch. It may be "just" a comic book, but it is more like an entire universe Gaiman has created. Trust me, read it.
I am currently reading "Choke" by Chuck Palaniuk. This book is an awful lot of fun. If you liked "Fight Club" or his book "Survivor" then "Choke" is a must read.
Someone mentioned to me they had the thought that perhaps the space shuttle was blown up... By US... To this I say: Give me one, valid, verifiable MOTIVE. What can ANYBODY had to gain from Columbia blowing up? Come on...
I have this real love of good bread and butter that I like to satiate occasionally.
The above might just have some small part in my being a fatass...
Phil Spector is being held for murder. What the fuck is WRONG with the FUCKING WORLD?!?!?! Have you all gone MAD?!
If I have one more close call with some asshat on a cell phone while driving, I am gonna follow them, run them off the road, pull them out of their vehicle and BEAT THEM WITH THAT FUCKING PHONE. This to be followed IMMEDIATELY by insertion of said phone in their rectum. Fucktards.
Maurice Gibb died recently, the Bee Gees are no more... Is this some kind of mixed blessing?
Joe Strummer also died recently. Nell Carter too. Not a good time to be famous and in your 50's...
Want a great song to listen to? Band: Ides Of March / Song: Vehicle. Go ahead, download it, but it, whatever... But THEN try telling me you weren't tapping your foot. I'll accuse you of being so white, you're a polar bear. No, scratch that, polar bears would like that song. You'd be Wonder bread.
My wife loves it, I am not the biggest fan... Chicken Stew.
I love it, my wife won't eat it... Steak.
Mutual food hate? Fish. Mutual food love? Pizza!

Well, that's all for now. More later.

When Super Science Mingles With The Bright Stuff Of Dreams...

2003-02-02T23:25:00.000-05:00

Michael Anderson - David Brown - Kalpana Chawla - Laurel B. Clark - Rick D. Husband - William McCool - Ilan Ramon

Where were you?

April 12th, 1981.

The day that John Young and Robert Crippen piloted the first space shuttle, Columbia, into outer space for the first time.

April 14th, 1981.

Young and Crippen arrive home safely, after keeping the country, no, the world on pins and needles for two days.

January 28th, 1986.

The space shuttle Challenger explodes shortly after takeoff, killing all on board.

February 1st, 2003.

Yesterday.

Where were you?

You won't soon forget yeterday.

That sick feeling you got in your stomach when you heard on the tv, radio, from a friend that "Something has gone wrong... They lost contact with the Space Shuttle..."

That horrible feeling of loss for people you don't even know.

You watch the footage, you hear the recording, you see the debris, you look at their faces in the paper.

And you just absorb the shock of it all.

I mean, after Apollo 13, we're supposed to be bulletproof on space problem, right? I mean we ALWAYS bring them home from outer space. (True, some haven't MADE it that far, but the ones that did always came home.)

But, as George W. Bush put rather eloquently yesterday, "The crew of the shuttle Columbia did not return safely to earth but we can pray they are safely home."

It's like another punch to the gut.

I mean, after 9/11... Just sixteen short months later, our nation grieves again.

We wonder about terrorism again.

And it all is just... painful.

I pray for those lost in the tragedy of the space shuttle Columbia. I hope their families can take some solace in the condolences of the world. It doesn't bring those seven brave people back, but it's something, a crutch to lean on, a shoulder to cry on... Something.

I will leave you with this, written in 1982 by Neil Peart of Rush about Columbia's first, historic mission. It was "Dedicated with thanks to astronauts Young & Crippen and all the people of NASA for their insipration and cooperation."

In this time of great loss and sadness, it is good to read inspiring words that might offer a glimpse into why we take these chances in space as we do... (If you can get your hands on this song, I suggest it)

COUNTDOWN

Lit up with anticipation
We arrive at the launching site
The sky is still dark, nearing dawn
On the Florida coastline

Circling choppers slash the night
With roving searchlight beams
This magic day when super-science
Mingles with the bright stuff of dreams

Floodlit in the hazy distance
The star of this unearthly show
Venting vapours, like the breath
Of a sleeping white dragon

Crackling speakers, voices tense
Resume the final count
All systems check, T minus nine
As the sun and the drama start to mount

The air is charged - a humid, motionless mass
The crowds and the cameras,
The cars full of spectators pass
Excitement so thick - you could cut it with a knife
Technology - high, on the leading edge of life

The earth beneath us starts to tremble
With the spreading of a low black cloud
A thunderous roar shakes the air
Like the whole world exploding

Scorching blast of golden fire
As it slowly leaves the ground
Tears away with a mighty force
The air is shattered by the awesome sound

Like a pillar of cloud, the smoke lingers
High in the air
In fascination - with the eyes of the world
We stare...

Peace. Faith. Hope. Love.

The Word Of The Day

2003-01-31T12:48:00.000-05:00

The word of the day is "legs"

Guys, lets get as many women to spread the word today as possible...

Happy weekend, all!

Bobby The Mat Takes New York!

2003-01-29T11:33:00.000-05:00

Got some GREAT fucking news today kiddies!!!

My good friend, Rob "Bobby The Mat" Matsushita, is having his latest show "Orange Murder Suit" performed at a theater here in New York!!!

Details are few right now, more as I learn them.

But a BIG congrats to my friend!!!

Alnet

2003-01-28T14:39:00.000-05:00

Okay, so they hired Ed O'Neill (famous as Al Bundy from "Married With Children...") to be the new Joe Friday on the new version of Dragnet.

And actually, I HAVE seen Ed play VERY convincing cops in dramas before (see the short-lived series "Big Apple" or the movie "The Bone Collector"), so THAT part of this equation doesn't bother me.

But it seems to be all my friends can think of about this:

"AL BUNDY is JOE FRIDAY?!"

"Bundy? Friday? You're kidding me, right?"

"Jack Webb is dead, there IS no other Joe Friday."

Everyone is so friggin skeptical about O'Neill's ability to be anything more than a dysfunction, hooter-loving schlub, that they are missing the BIG PICTURE...

With fifteen gabazillion versions of either "Law & Order" or "C.S.I.: Toldeo", do we really need another crime drama?

Let ALONE one that is taking one of the CLASSICS of all time and updating it?

Has Hollywood REALLY run out of ideas? (And considering that they REALLY ARE making Rocky 6 and Grease 3, they may have...)

I have a bigger problem with Dragnet EVER resurfacing than Al Bundy-fying Joe Friday.

I mean, no one minded the campy version Dan Aykroyd did a few years back with that Hanks fellow.

Why?

Because THAT was a comedy (thanks to Hanks) and Aykroyd was not playing THE Joe Friday, but his nephew.Hell, they even through Harry Morgan a bone by having him reprise his original Dragnet role (now promoted to Captain).

Folks, I say give O'Neill a shot, but be leery of the SHOW.

That's my $0.02, anyway.

Quick "get well" wishes out there to our friend Kendoka.

Feel better young lady!

Weekend

2003-01-27T23:00:00.000-05:00

Well, now that the holidaze are over and I have reasonably recovered from my run-in with the tree, I think it's about time for MY ass to post a bit more, don't you?

Thought so.

Okay, so here's my weekend.

It all started on Thursday when Dan called me and told the good/bad news.

Our Road Manager, Darren "Big D" O'Rourke, was leaving to spend more time with his girlfriend, the lovely Gina.

Now, as Big D's friend, I am overjoyed for him and Gina and I wish them all the luck in the world.

As one of Darren's "Bosses", I am VERY sad to see him go, as he is an excellent asset to the band.

Luckily, Dan knew of a good friend and co-worker of his, Omar, who will be filling the position from here on in. I would like to take this opportunity to welcome Omar to the fold and wish him the best of luck, as he has pretty big shoes to fill.

Friday, we had a gig at Durkin's in Cedar Knolls.

Our first time there.

I have to say, it's a great place to play and I think the show went rather well. We made a bunch of new friends, played some great rock and roll and even brought a few people up from the crowd to sing a few songs.

In all, a very hot show to wark up a very cold night.

Saturday, I got to hang out with my good friend, Dr. Howard Kook. We got to shoot the shit about artists and comics and such and generally had a pretty decent day of it.

Sunday, I did something I had never done before.

I watched "Casablanca".

Folks?

GREAT FRIKKIN' MOVIE!

If you have never, see it. If you have, watch it again.

Not one wasted minute.

Then played a little bit of my newest gaming obsession, Soldier Of Fortune (WOW... Just... WOW...)

About four, we headed over to my in-laws, Rocky and Jeannine's, for a while. Rocky and I had a few beers (well, HE had beer, I had NEWCASTLE BROWN ALE) while we watched the pregame and Sheila and Jeannine were talking upstairs.

About ten minutes before kickoff, we all headed over to Sheila & Rocky's other sister, Susan's, house. Susan and her husband Fred had a GREAT spread set up and despite a SHITTY Stupor Bowl, a good time was had by all.

We had to leave about 9 PM when Sheila remember she had several hours of homework left to do. While she did that, I continued re-reading Neil Gaiman's "Sandman" series until I fell asleep.

In all, a good weekend!

How was yours?

I WANT THIS JOB...

2003-01-23T09:29:00.000-05:00

Got an e-mail from my good buddy Jones in the Navy.

I WANT THIS JOB...

One question... Okay two...

1. How do you interview/audtition for this job?

2. What POSSIBLY could it pay? (Or is squeezing J-Lo's nipples payment enough?)

The mind boggles...

Happy Bithday To UE!

2003-01-23T00:52:00.000-05:00

Take some time off from my recovery period (going nicely, thank you all well -wishers!) to wish a BIG happy birthday to Roughy and the gang at UE as they celebrate their SECOND anniversary today!

Check out my small birthday tribute here.

Now repeat after me, chillun...

Orange. Is. Love.

Much love and respect to the UE faithful!

Yo.

Lucky Man

2003-01-11T13:12:00.000-05:00

Folks, the fact that I can sit here right now and write this to you all is nothing short of miraculous.

Or perhaps just lucky.

Coming home from work last night, I (believe) I had a blowout and my car hit a tree.

I was not wearing my seatbelt.

I was able to jump out of the car and check myself for injuries. Blood from my head, my right knee and dripping off of my right hand.

I walked away, essentially.

Sure, I got taken to Overlook hospital (by two very nice paramedics, Mike and Patrick) in Summit, and was treated in the ER (special thanks to Jennifer my nurse, John the X-Ray tech and Pete the CAT-Scan tech and Dr. Bulan (who helped get the glass out of my hand) who were all especially nice and helpful.

Folks.

I totaled the car.

I totaled the steering wheel.

Took the wheel right in the abdomen and chest.

I bowed out the windshield in two places where my head and hand hit.

Cracked the dashboard with my knee.

And I walked away.

Walked out of the hospital at 12:30.

I have a cut on my forehead, a gash on my knee, and about 100 tiny cuts on my right hand.

And a decent aching in my chest.

But other than that, I am okay.

I haven't even had any Advil since last night.

And, considering, I feel okay.

I would like to give thanks to God, who saw me through this situation, which could have gone SO MUCH WORSE. I kid around about my belief and all, but I do believe in God. He HAD to be watching me last night.

I mean, I could have hit someone with the car, I could have hit another car. I could have crashed into the gas station I had the accident in front of. I could have impaled myself on the steering wheel. Concussion, internal bleeding, puntured lungs. So much could have happened that didn't.

I am a VERY lucky man.

I am also lucky to have a wife that cares about me as much as Sheila does. Sheila who was at the hospital only five minutes after I arrived. Sheila who has been by my side almost constantly since.

I am lucky.

Lucky to have friends like Danny and Blair and Fred, who upon hearing about this, also rushed to the hospital. (Blair and Danny all the way from the shore.)

I am lucky.

Lucky to have a mother who is coming over today because she just does not feel right until she sees me.

I am lucky.

Lucky for my wife's family who have all called me and offered to help in any way that they can.

I am lucky.

Lucky above all that I was not hurt worse, that no one else was hurt, and that I am still here writing this to you.

To paraphrase Emerson, Lake & Palmer...

Oh, what a lucky man I am...

Recap

2003-01-01T12:29:00.000-05:00

This was the year that was.

2002.

I know a lot of people look orward to the changing of the year, as I'm sure many of us did just one short year ago. I mean, really, who had a GOOD 2001?

But 2002, now that's something different.

Admittedly, I'm kinda sad to see her go, because for me, 2002 was a pretty damned good year.

So I thought I'd post a quick little list of what I have to be thankful for in 2002.

1. My niece, Juliette, born on February 1st, 2002! Easily top of the list, I love that little girl.
2. Overtime releases our very first CD on January 19th, 2002! Twelve years in the making, as the title "Self Defense 90-99" suggests.
3. Our song "Drives Me Wild" is played by WDHA on March 15th and again on May 5th! Thanks to Matt Murray and the Homegrown Spotlight.
4. Sheila gets her grades in January an May, making Dean's List both semesters! And we're hoping for a repeat of that presently...
5. On May 2nd, Potch's Place opens for business! Back then it was known as Lee Potcher's Daily Overtime Weblog.
6. Got a new DVD player for my birthday (December 14th) from my wife! FINALLY I can watch a movie without waiting 30-45 minutes for it to "load".
7. New Bruce Springsteen, Dave Matthews and Pearl Jam CD's all KICKED MAJOR ASS! (And I hear Audioslave is pretty awesome as well...)
8. Reconnected seriously with my friend Rob Matsushita! Conacted him two years ago, now we talk (via e-mail) almost daily.
9. Found out I'm gonna be an uncle AGAIN on Christmas Eve, as my Brother-and-Sister-In-Law, Rocky & Jeannine are expecting in August!
10. My mom moved to a pretty damned nice apartment.

So in all, 2002 was a decent year...

Here's hoping all of you have a healthy, happy and prosperous 2003!

What Christmas Is All About

2002-12-24T14:09:00.000-05:00

Charlie Brown finds himself depressed at Christmas time,searching for the true meaning of the holiday amidst the glitz and commercialism of the modern age. He finds his answer in the passge below:

"And there were in the same country shepherds, abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them! And they were sore afraid... And the angel said unto them, "Fear not! For, behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all my people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord."

"And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger." and suddenly, there was with the angel a multitude of the Heavenly Host praising God, and saying, "Glory to God in the Highest, and on Earth peace, and good will toward men."

"That's what christmas is all about, Charlie Brown."
--Linus Van Pelt

and Charles M Schulz

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU FOR SOME PERSPECTIVE SPARKY!

To all the people who have joined me in the past year on this little journey I undertook in April, thank you, bless you, and have a happy holidays!

Peace, Hope, Love, Faith.

Lee Potcher

Reviews and News

2002-12-23T09:23:00.000-05:00

Hey folks!

Been busy with the holidays, but I have three thins to tell you.

ONE: The Overtime Website has been updated and now includes all the shows we have booked for 2003! (Also, check us out on New Year's Day at Cryan's in South Orange!)

TWO: I have posted a new review (SHOCK!!!) of a great, funny Christmas CD over at Unrealistic Expectations. Check it out!

THREE: I have posted some sad rock and roll news over at RockerDown.

Please, feel free to check out all the links!

And if I don't write again before Wednesday, everyone have a happy and healthy holiday!

Peace, Love, Hope.

Mr. Mathers, What Were Your Whereabouts On The Night Of December 12th?

2002-12-13T10:55:00.000-05:00

I found this article and just HAD to share it with you folks.

I hear they have Eminem in for questioning.

BOSTON (AP) - Techno artist Moby was attacked by two men while signing autographs outside a nightclub following a radio station-sponsored holiday concert, police said.

According to police and witnesses, Moby, whose real name is Richard M. Melville, was approached by the men about 1 a.m. Thursday outside the Paradise Rock Club. One of the men punched Moby in the back of the head and on the right side of his face, breaking the singer's glasses and cutting and bruising his face.

When two club security guards tried to stop the attack, the assailants sprayed a mace-like substance at Moby, Moby's manager and the guards, and then fled, police said.

Moby, 37, declined medical attention.

The assailants said nothing during the attack, and the motive is unknown, said Paradise manager Jeff Marshall.

During the concert, Moby, a self-described pacifist, had spoken out against aggression and violence.

He wrote on his Web site that he is not angry about the attack, just mystified about the motive. He has asked the attackers to post an explanation.

Moby is electronic music's first bona fide superstar. His 1999 album "Play" sold 10 million copies. For the past two years, the Connecticut native has headlined a touring festival that has featured guests such as David Bowie.

Where Did The Time Go?

2002-12-12T14:18:00.000-05:00

Hello and happy holidaze!

A big, major apology to all the Potch's Place faithfull as I have been a bit of an absentee landlord lately, and since I have recruited no side writers (as my good buddies Roughy at UE and Rusty ar RD have), you have had NOTHING but archives to read for almost a MONTH now.

I swear I will do my best NEVER to let this happen again.

A little update on Potch and his lovely bride.

Last we spoke...

Okay, last I spoke, my computer had crashed.

This has been rectified with the purchase of a new hard drive (60 Gig, BABY!) and jacked up my RAM from 128 to 256. Now that baby purrs like a kitten!

YAY!

Sadly, in doing so, I was only able to transfer the ABSOLUTE essentials from the old HD, and haven't had a chance to retrieve anything else since, so I had to just download EVERYTHING... AGAIN...

The reason I haven't been on has nothing to do with this though.

The computer was fixed the day after my last post.

(On my good buddy Fred's birthday)

No, my reason in being absent from Potch's Place, Unrealistic Expectations, RockerDown, Wil Wheaton's Soapbox and from AIM is simple...

Sheila, my aforementioned lovely wife, has been KILLING herself writing papers for 5 classes in college.

She has written about 7, including a 36-page dissertation, in the last month.

In fact, this past Tuesday she was up until 6 AM(!) working on one. She got home from class last night and CRASHED...

She has been on so much, I have only been able to access the internet at work... And this being out busy time of the year, that don't happen too much.

Sooooo...

But I am here, I am alive and well (thanks for the well wishes), and will make an honest effort (now that this semester will be ending in one week) to be here and reporting stories for you.

I do have one biggie to bring you.

On a personal level...

In one month... Probably from today... A reunion will occur.

One fifteen years in the making.

My good friend, Rob Matsushita, will be returning to the Garden State for a brief stay.

THAT, you will get the WHOLE story of.

All the jokes, the insults, the laughs, the tears, the guns, the movies...

Every last drop of...

THE REUNION!

Coming, January, 2003 to a blog near you!

Hey Carm, What's For Lunch?

2002-11-15T13:13:00.000-05:00

Okay...

Life has been busy lately, and my computer at home crashed.

But this was too good not to share.

As some of you know, I work at a certain gentleman's club in New York.

Well, right now, as I write this, three of the biggest actresses around are having LUNCH together upstairs.

Sally field, Kathleen Turner and Edie Falco.

The Flying Nun, Serial Mom and Carmela Soprano.

I would LOVE to go and talk to them (Edie especially), but doing so would likely cost me my job.

This sucks eggs.

I may have to go and "talk" to the front-end manager in a little while to catch a glimpse.

Sigh...

I am SUCH the starfucker...

Pity me...

The Proposal

2002-11-06T15:12:00.000-05:00

I am doing this in honor of my 4th wedding anniversary today.

(Yay me, yay Mrs. Potch!)

This is the story of:

THE PROPOSAL

January, 1997.

My wife has just sold the house owned by her and her brother, which they inherited from their mother.

After an exhausting one month search, we get an apartment on a main street in the same town she lived in already.

We have been dating almost three years by now, living together for about a year at said house.

We are set to move on January 18th.

But I have a little surprise in mind.

The move itself is rather tiring (thanks to moving into a 2nd floor apartment), yet quick and effieicent. By 6 PM, we have emptied a house and filled a one bedroom apartment and a storage closet.

My wife's oldest sister and her husband have stayed behind to help sort some stuff out.

They are all in the kitchen going through their mother's jewlery box.

I excuse myself to go pick up some last things left at my mother's apartment from when I lived there.

I go to mom's and pick up: Some board games, some comic books, my near legendary collection of porn (Rob...), my Yankees posters...

And an engagement ring my mother has been holding for me.

It is a simple gold band with two baguettes flanking a half-carat diamond which has been handed down through the generations in my mom's family.

I love it.

My mom loves it.

I know my girlfriend Sheila will love it.

I head back to the apartment with the ring in it's box in my jacket pocket.

I get home and hang up my jacket in the hall.

Sheila's sister and brother-in-law are leaving.

The moment is here.

"Can you put the jewlery box in the bedroom for me?"

Sure.

I do this then go and collapse on the couch.

I am as nervous as I have ever been.

And I begin the proceedure.

Sheil?

"Yes?"

Can you get the flashlight from my jacket pocket? I'm dead tired.

I smile.

"I'm tired too. Get it yourself."

HUH?

Uhhh, Sheil... Can you please get it?

"Oh, fine."

She looks and can't find it. I remember there are four pockets.

"Where is it?"

Right lower pocket.

She checks every pocket except this one.

"You must have left it in the car."

She sits down across from me.

I look at her.

I look at the jacket.

I look at her.

I can NOT believe she can't find the ring box...

I get up and go to the jacket.

Well, plan shot to hell, go traditional.

I grab the ring and come back to the living room where Sheila sits.

I get down on one knee.

I am sweating bullets.

I am amped up on adrenaline.

I can barely speak.

I open the ring box.

Sheila... Will you marry me?

She laughs at me.

I die a MILLION deaths in a heartbeat.

I am crushed.

I am devastated.

I never hear her say, "Put that back, silly."

She sees I am upset.

"Come on, I'm tired... No games... Put it back..."

P-p-put... Put WHAT back?

"The ring. Put it back in my mother's jewlery box..."

The jewlery box?

"Yeah, funny. Good joke. Now put it back."

Joke?

"Yeah. It's a joke, right?"

Uhhhh... No...

"Wait a min..."

Sheila, I bought this ring... I am seriously asking you to be my wife.

"OH MY GOD!"

Yes.

"OH MY... YES! YES! OH MY GOD, YES!"

I collapse into her arms.

"I am SOOOOOO sorry... I thought you were kidding!"

S'okay.

C'mere.

I love you.

"I love you."

Beware Of Geeks Bearing Gifts

2002-10-25T09:38:00.000-04:00

I got this from Bronwyn's Blog.

I thought it funny that I was less of a geek than she is...

Course, she spends her days with her nose in a petri dish... I spend mine finding ways of killing time at work...

So here is my results of the infamous Polygeek Quiz!

You are 21% geek

OK, so maybe you ain't a geek. You do, at least, show a bit of interest in the world around you. Either that, or you have enough of a sense of humor to pick some of the sillier answers on the test. Regardless, you're probably a pretty nifty, well-rounded person who gets along fine with people and can chat with just about anyone without fear of looking stupid or foolish or overly concerned with minutiae. God, I hate you.

Take the Polygeek Quiz at Thudfactor.com

Share.

What percentage of geek are you?

Tales From The Not All That Distant Past

2002-10-24T09:48:00.000-04:00

Originally printed at WWDN's Soapbox.

English Class, The Prom, The Rubbers and Redemption Of A Fat Chick

A tale of Potch and two girls...

PART ONE: ENGLISH CLASS

Senior year, Columbia High School, Maplewood, New Jersey.

April, 1989.

(Incidentally, Lauryn Hill would be attending this school the following fall… F.Y.I.)

What's hot on the radio?

I really don't care.

I haven't listened to pop radio for years now. I am listening to WNEW, New York's classic rock station, which plays almost NO new music...

Except for Eric Clapton and Phil Collins' new stuff...

What's on TV?

I don't know, I don't watch TV.

I spend my nights reading books...

Well...

Mostly comic books...

And writing.

I write a lot.

Mostly songs, lots of lyrics. The occasional short story.

Lots of poetry.

It has been about a year since I have seen Rob.

So for the start of the new marking period, I decide that since I have all these poems sitting around, I'm gonna take Poetry as my very last English class in high school. I figure I won’t even have to work, just feed some of my old poems to the teacher and ace the class.

Unbelievably, this works.

(Though I do write a few new poems.)

However what makes this class memorable is the seating. Specifically mine.

To my right is a girl named Cathy Queen.

I have known Cathy since about 3rd grade, I’d say.

I never really got to know her that well prior to Poetry class, never more than just hello and such.

Cathy was a short, fat girl with reddish-brown hair and freckles.

Being blatantly, horribly, brutally honest about it, she looked like a human Weeble-Wobble.

It was mostly her body shape.

But her face, well, her face was cute. I always thought it was a shame she was overweight, because she’d be a bit of a looker otherwise. To go with her reddish-brown hair and cute freckles, she had these live, expressive eyes and a pretty smile

But, sadly, the weight kind of ruined it for her.

(I can only too well relate to this. I can’t tell you how many people, thinking they’re being nice, tell me, “You know, you’d be soooo handsome if you were just… Thin.” Ahhh, yes... The infamous backhanded compliment...)

Cathy always kind of kept to herself, and seemed to have the reputation of being mean. I believe this had to do with her beating the hell out of a boy in 4th grade.

To my left is another girl, named Lindsey Eristoff.

I do not know Lindsey, yet, but before the end of the school year, I will know her quite well.

Lindsey is only a little shorter than I am, with beautiful green eyes and this long, fiery red hair. Her smile is infectious.

I discover this the first day of class, when we all have to write a sample of our poetry.

I offer this:

This life I’ve lived has known no equal,
So I guarantee there’ll be no sequel.

She smiled and told me she loved it.

I fell in love with her immediately.

And so it went, the last marking period.

I had Lindsey to my left, who loved every last thing I wrote, who was very pretty, and who I was falling more head over heels for with each class. We exchanged phone numbers after a few weeks and we started to talk at home.

But on my right, I had Cathy. Cathy liked my stuff too, but always was critical of what needed to be worked on. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I was getting my ego stroked by Lindsey, so I didn’t want to be torn down by Cathy.

After a while, Cathy started warming up to me and we joked around a lot.

But at the same time, I was starting to hang out with Lindsey outside of school.

I was going over to her house for lunch almost every day.

She was playing the piano for me, showing me what she was learning in her lessons (mostly Carole King).

We started finding out about each other’s past, our likes and dislikes, we started getting each other into different music.

We had connected on a friendship level

She was into The Cure, The Smiths and Carole King.

Me, I was into Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd and The Beatles.

She told me she didn’t want to ever get married, she didn’t want kids, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to the prom. She hated everything they stood for. (She was an aspiring, yet novice feminist…)

Me? I wanted all three.

I ended up (thus far) with two of the three. (But that’s both for later and for another story…)

Lindsey loved everything that I wrote. It’s directness, it’s wit, and it’s openness.

Lindsey was also an aspiring poet. But truthfully, I couldn’t get what she was writing about half the time. I had to honestly work at understanding her work.

But…

Hey, I was falling in love. You do weird shit like that… Like ignoring the fact that the girl you’re falling for has completely different wants in life…

Lindsey also tells me over lunch one day about a guy that she liked.

“Is he bigger than me?” I asked, trying not to show the crack that suddenly appeared in my heart.

She smiles and told me about this guy, Pete, who she had met the year before. He was really cute and really funny and she really liked him.

One problem, though.

At the end of the previous school year, he moved to Arizona to live with his mother.

“That’s too bad.” I said, my heart suddenly doing cartwheels of joy.

Well, that takes care of that, then.

I’m a senior. So is Cathy.

Lindsey is a junior.

May comes and I am looking for a prom date.

Being close with Lindsey now, I ask her.

Yes… I DO realize she had told me weeks before she didn’t want to go.

Which could be why she tells me no.

I tell Cathy this the next day and she brightens up. “Oh, that’s too bad, Potch. Well, I’m sure you’ll find… (Dramatic pause here…) Someone… (Another dramatic pause) Who wants to go with you.”

“I hope so. I really want to go…”

Cathy smiles knowingly.

So I ask Sheryl, a platonic friend to go.

As friends.

As my backup.

You know, if I can’t find anyone to go with.

She’s pretty understanding of my situation and agrees.

She’ll be my platonic prom date if I can’t find anyone else to go with.

One year later, when she was graduating, this would come back to bite me in the ass, BIG TIME.

But that’s another story.

I tell Cathy about Sheryl agreeing to go, and she frowns.

“Why would you ask a friend to go?”

I explain that she’s a backup, in case I can’t find someone who wants to go with me.

She cheers up and says, “Oh, well… That’s okay then I can understand that. I have a backup as well.”

Yes, I am really this clueless at age eighteen…

My friend Dick dropped out in January. He has been working odd jobs for a few months, nothing making him happy.

April Fool’s Day, he walks into my room and wakes me up by telling me he has joined the Navy.

I say, “Good one.” And roll back over.

Three weeks later, after he has shown us his papers, we FINALLY believe he has joined up. He is supposed to ship out the last week in May.

His girlfriend, Chris, is pissed off.

She now has no prom date.

Chris and I go back to Kindergarten together. We even dated for about a nano-second in eighth grade. We have gotten along as friends ever since.

She offers me a ride home one day and opens up about her feelings for Dick and how she can’t believe he did this without telling her.

And now she has no prom date, as he’ll be in basic training by then.

I say that I don’t have one either.

And it kind of hits us at the same time.

I check this out with Dick and he’s actually glad she’ll still be able to go and it’ll be with someone he can trust.

The next day, I tell Lindsey during lunch about it.

“Why are you so fixated on such a bourjeuois ritual?”

That afternoon, I tell Cathy.

“Oh… Well, that’s nice. You’re doing a good thing…”

She trails off and is distant from me for the rest of the class.

But at least I am going to the prom.

PART TWO: THE PROM

Three weeks before the prom, two weeks before shipping out, Dick finds out his entry date has been postponed until July.

I immediately offer to back off.

I can always go with Sheryl.

Chris will not hear of it.

“You’ve already rented your tux. Dick brought this on himself. He’ll get to miss out.”

Dick secretly thanks me for having offered to take her in the first place.

Now he doesn’t have to go.

The prom comes and Chris looks beautiful.

However, Chris is in a pissy mood.

She wishes Dick was there.

Of course.

Especially since he’s back at Steve’s place with Phil and the Colonel, drinking and having a good time.

After about two hours of this mood, I am wishing I were there too.

I can not take being around Chris, whose mood has gone from pissy to mopey.

I get up and decide to walk around, see who I know.

There, in a corner, is Cathy. She looks quite pretty in a pink gown, with her hair done up.

I also notice she’s lost some weight for the prom.

I walk up to her and ask what’s up.

“My date is hanging out with his friends.”

“Your… Boyfriend?”

“I don’t have one… I had to use my backup. He’s blowing me off.”

“Chris is in a mood. She wishes Dick was here.”

“Seems like the prom pretty much sucks for both of us.”

“Yeah.”

“Of course, we could always… Hang out… Together…”

Cathy smiles.

We danced the rest of the night away together, laughing, joking, smiling and having a great old time.

We even danced the last dance together, Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight.”

“Cathy… You, uhh… You really do look wonderful tonight.”

She smiled and put her head on my chest and held me tighter.

She smelled of flowers.

She felt warm and comfortable.

My prom ended great.

The two of us dancing together.

Adventures Of A Band At A Home Town Bar One Friday Night In October

2002-10-21T14:18:00.000-04:00

The following was taken from a conversation I had with the ever-lovable, Kendoka!

Potch: I been hanging with my band a little to long this weekend... The crassness of boys...

Kendoka: hehe

Potch: Course... The stuff that happens to us... Jeez...

Kendoka: no problem
Kendoka: any public sex acts this time?

Potch: Uhhh, well... Actually, yes.

Kendoka: uh oh...

Potch: I don't know what it is, people just seem to like having sex when we play...
Kendoka: hahaha
Kendoka: you could market yourself as the next viagra

Potch: We're Jersey's version of Barry White...

Kendoka: hahaha

Potch: There's this pretty girl who comes up to me on our break.
Potch: She introduces herself (Cathy) and tells me I sing REALLY well.
Potch: That, when we did this Pearl Jam song (You've Got To Hide Your Love Away, Beatles cover), she thought they had put the jukebox back on until she turned and saw me singing.
Potch: One of the better compliments I have gotten.
Kendoka: hehe

Potch: (I looooooove Eddie Vedder.)
Potch: (I wanna BE Eddie Vedder)
Potch: (I wanna have Eddie Vedder's love child...)

Kendoka: I’ve just never been too into pearl jam. But I like
weird al's song about them (;

Potch: (Which since I'm a guy, would be PRETTY FARKING HARD...)

Kendoka: hahaha

Potch: (And a straight guy at that...)
Potch: ANYWAYS!

Kendoka: hehehe
Kendoka: how are things in the big apple today?

Potch: Pretty good.

Kendoka: that's good.

Potch: So anyway, she asks us to play another PJ song.

Kendoka: any celebrity sightings today?

Potch: I'm telling a STORY here...
Potch: =oP

Kendoka: SORRY

Potch: hehehe
Potch: No celeb sightings... Yet...
Potch: (X-Mas time, lots of them.)

Kendoka: hehe

Potch: So... We play this PJ song like third song in our 2nd set.
Potch: We finish and she runs up to me and hugs me and kisses my
cheek.
Potch: She’s obviously drunk.

Kendoka: heh

Potch: Cause this kind of thing doesn't normally happen to me when people are sober...
Potch: It's just not my life...

Kendoka: heh

Potch: Anywise.
Potch: Later that night, we're about to play Glory Days by Bruce and her and her equally attractive friend ask to sing.

Kendoka: uh oh

Potch: So we give them the cordless mic and I move over so they can see the songbook.
Potch: I am now playing sideways, facing them. My ass is up against my guitar stand, I can't move.

Kendoka: heh

Potch: So we start the song.
Potch: Halfway through, Cathy decides to start dancing with me.
Potch: I am uncomfortable and don't know where to look.

Kendoka: uh oh

Potch: The drummer sees this and yells out, "Look at HER you dope!"
Potch: Mind you, he's married with four kids.
Potch: He's just like that.
Potch: So, I admit, I looked.

Kendoka: haha

Potch: Just then, she turns around to dance with her friend, but she kind of backs towards me.
Potch: Mind you, I can't move.
Potch: And I can't stop playing.
Potch: My hand is rubbing against her booty.
Potch: I try moving back, she moves with me.

Kendoka: Oh, dear

Potch: There is nothing I can do, short of stop playing.

Kendoka: oy

Potch: I honestly (My hand to Harold) tried moving, but she kept moving to meet me...

Kendoka: aren't drunken people GREAT

Potch: Quick aside... New Leann Rimes is on... Isn't it a sign of the apocalypse when LEANN RIMES says "Daddy Mac" in a song?
Potch: Yes they are.

Kendoka: haha

Potch: Okay. Song ends. We play "Play That Funky Music White Boy"
to end the show.

Potch signed off at 12:05:32 PM.
Potch signed on at 12:06:26 PM.

Potch: SHITSKI!
Potch: I got booted.

Kendoka: ew, that would be gross
Kendoka: I don't snowski very well, anyway, so I wouldn’t really want to try this.... (;

Potch: ROFLMFAO
Potch: Where was I? Story's getting good now.

Kendoka: play that funky music, white boy.

Potch: Okay. Cathy sits. Her friend stays up to dance. Alone.
Potch: Quite sexually.

Kendoka: haha

Potch: She was moving her butt like she was having sex.
Potch: No joke, we have pics.

Kendoka: haha
Kendoka: and lucky her, they'll be posted on the Internet, right?

Potch: YOU GOT IT TOYOTA!
Potch: =oP

Kendoka: oh dear
Kendoka: for the record, I had no part in this (;

Potch: I love digital cameras...

Kendoka: I’m pure and innocent
Kendoka: however, I will take an un-zen-like moment to laugh
Potch: We finish playing. The girls just disappear.
Potch: Of course.
Potch: They always do.
Potch: Besides, I’m married, what the hell am I gonna do?
Potch: So we pack up and load out.

Kendoka: ok

Potch: I am standing outside in the brisk October air, all the band's equipment on the sidewalk.
Potch: Cathy comes up with this guy on her arm
Potch: She asks if we can get her a bottle of water from inside.
Potch: Our Road Manager, D, says to follow him. They go inside, the boyfriend stays outside.

Kendoka: uh oh

Potch: We look at each other and it clicks.
Potch: We know each other.

Kendoka: oh?

Potch: I ask him his name.
Potch: Frank Willams.

Kendoka: ?

Potch: I say, "Frankie Williams? From Troop 5?"

Kendoka: boy scouts?

Potch: We were in Boy Scouts together.
Kendoka: hahaha

Potch: So we're catching up a little when Cathy comes back out.
Potch: Frankie tells her we used to be in B.S. together.

Kendoka: uh oh

Potch1214: She looks me right in the eye and says...

Kendoka: oh dear

Potch: "Did he do you?"
Potch: My jaw drops.
Potch: I stammer out, "Uhhh. No. Nothing like that..."
Potch: She says...
Potch: "Too bad, I was envisioning a three way..."
Potch: I AM FLOORED.
Potch: I AM SPEECHLESS.

Kendoka: as i would have been

Potch: I AM WISHING TO GOD I WASN'T MARRIED.
Potch: I’m kidding…
Potch: I wasn't floored or speechless.
Potch: :-P

Kendoka: i was figuring the "um.... And why are you telling me this?" kind of floored and speechless

Potch: I am alternately turned on and appalled.

Kendoka: or the "don't open your mouth or you'll fall to the ground in hysterical laughter" kind of speechless

Potch: Yes.
Potch: To say the least.
Potch: And it's STILL not over...

Kendoka: dear, lord

Potch: She then says...
Potch: (To prove exactly how much of a tramp she is...)
Potch: "We have to go, I promised I'd blow him..."

Kendoka: good heavens.

Potch: If I'm lying, I'm dying.

Kendoka: it makes me blush to even think about saying something like that (;

Potch: Our drummer, looks at me, smiles, and says, "Go with God."
Potch: We laugh our asses off.
Potch: Frank smiles.

Kendoka: hahaha

Potch: Why does Frank smile?
Potch: He is about to get some.

Kendoka: i'm just too sweet and innocent to say something like that

Potch: So, story STILL not over.

Kendoka: uh oh

Potch: We have to go get the car and van to load them up. Our bass player goes to get his van, and we all happen to watch him walk into the parking lot.
Potch: And there...

Kendoka: do i even want to know

Potch: There, in the Honda Civic in FRONT of the van, is Frank, standing next to an open driver's side door.
Potch: You do the math.

Kendoka: yecch.

Potch: Not even a football field away from Police HQ.

Kendoka: hahaha

Potch: Yeah.
Potch: So, they have to stop when Blair gets to his van.
Potch: Instead, he gets in the car.
Potch: So then, after loading the van, I go to get my car, behind the Civic.
Potch: And he's got his head back in the driver’s seat, with his hands bobbing up and down.

Kendoka: aaaaaaaaahhh... tmi! tmi!!!

Potch: I KNOW!
Potch: If I had to SEE it, I gotta put that visual in SOMEBODY
else's head.
Potch: I kept picturing him in his khakis and red beret.

Kendoka: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Potch: Which made it even WORSE!
Potch: Needless to say, the band was pissing ourselves for like fifteen minutes.
Potch: AND... They were STILL there after we left.

Kendoka: stop, for the love of Harold, stop!!!!

Potch: HEHEHE!

Kendoka: no more!!!

Potch: Story's over.

VH-SCUM

2002-10-18T09:59:00.000-04:00

No, this has nothing to do with Van Halen...

I am referring, of course to the bastard stepchild of MTV, VH1

Now, I have only read about this here, but this has just incensed me to the point of anger.

VH-SCUM, in their rating freefall of late, has started getting desperate. For instance, have you tuned in during primetime recently and seen, say, the Rerun Show (Or whatever it's called)? Or some Charlie's Angels repeats?

VH-SCUM has gotten to a desperation point, because their ratings have fallen so much, they are trying to do anything to pick them.

Including airing this heap of shit.

You know, I'm not saying it's a terrible idea. HOWEVER, if you're THAT fucking HARD-UP for something new, how about you take that half-an-hour and about 1/5 of the budget and put my band on your stupid fucking channel, instead of promoting a band of inmates, murderers, rapists and thieves?

Or perhaps I should resport to killing someone... Then I can go to jail and GET ON FUCKING VH-SCUM!!!

I plan on writing VH-SCUM a letter and I fully plan of avoiding their station at all costs. If you feel likewise, I suggest you do the same.

Rumor To Reality Part One: LED ZEPPELIN TO REUNITE!!!

2002-10-14T08:18:00.000-04:00

Well fans, some of you are hearing it here first.

The surviving members of Led Zeppelin are reuniting (with John Bonham's son on drums) for a U.S. tour next summer! This according to the Sun, a British newspaper.

Click on the link in the title to read the story.

Well, that is one of my three rumors come true...

Sadly, David Gilmour (of all people) has been knocking down Pink Floyd reunion rumors earlier this month.

And last night, a Sam & Dave special on VH1 (Quite good if you can catch a repeat) indicated that neither singer has been in contact with the Van Halen boys, but (in the slim hope catagory) that neither would exactly hang up the phone if Eddie or Alex called them.

Keep tuned here for developments as they occur.

Week From Hell

2002-10-12T13:35:00.000-04:00

Okay, sorry I haven't been around this past week, but life at Potch's house has been pretty suck-ass for about a week now.

It all started on Friday when my beloved Yankees blew a 6-1 lead in pivotal game 3 of the division series against the Angels.

The next night they were shelled into oblivion by one terrifically BAD inning. The Yankees were done for the year.

Over.

Blah.

I then proceed to grab several pillows and decide it would be best to WAIL on them with all my might.

This resulted in my pulling every muscle in my right arm.

Then I got into a fight with my wife.

So Saturday sucked.

Sunday was my mom's birthday.

We also found out that morning that my 2nd cousin, Gerald, had killed himself the night before.

This was horrible, terrible news you never want to hear.

Wednesday, I find out that our rent check bounced... By three dollars...

Also Wednesday, my wife took a fall at work and severely sprained her ankle.

She then had to wait at my doctors for an hour, Doctors on Duty for two more and then Union General for 7.5 HOURS...

She and my mother (who was with her, she asked that I stay home, straighten up and cook dinner) finally get home at 1 AM.

Thursday and Friday, I stay home and help Sheila out with anything I can. (Dishes, cooking, cleaning, helping her move, etc.)

Today, we had to cancel a trip to Cooperstown we have been planning for five months. It was only gonna be for a couple of days, but it is LITERALLY the only chance we are going to have to go anywhere until next summer.

AND, I just read about my friend, Roughy's (From UE), problem with the Avon Breast Cancer Walkathon in LA next weekend. Read the story about it here. (If you can help him out in anyway possible, please do.)

In all, Potch is pretty bummed right now.

It's Just Not Funny Anymore, Assholes

2002-10-04T10:03:00.000-04:00

Okay, I am a big fan of what most in the media call "shock radio." It started in the late 70's with Don Imus, was taken over and exploded to the nth degree by Howard Stern, the self-appointed King Of All Media. The tradition has been (mostly badly) continued and copied by the likes of The Greaseman, Mancow, All the morning Zoo programs and Opie And Anthony.

Of all those who followed Stern, Opie And Anthony were undoubtedly the best. Stern even seemed to like them.

Two months ago, they were fired from their syndicated radio program based at New York's WNEW. Why were they fired? They were holding an on-air contest for who could have sex in the craziest place.

So they put on two listeners who were having sex...

At St. Patrick's cathedral.

The couple got caught.

Catholics everywhere got their panties in a bunch. (Kind of like they have been for decades with Stern)

Opie And Anthony, for airing the bit, got canned, losing out on millions in syndication, and essentially crippling WNEW (whose only draw WAS Opie & Anthony...)

WNEW was hailed as heroes for not just "slapping them on the wrist."

And then all their praisers went back to listening to the God Squad or Lite-FM.

And through all of this, I had to wonder...

What EXACTLY did Opie and Anthony do WRONG?

They showed some lack of judgement perhaps, but is THAT something they should LOSE THEIR JOBS OVER?

I mean, really, who got hurt here?

Assuming the lady performing the sexual act was not a virgin, I am guessing no one.

Being perfectly frank, you can clean the bench or the vestibule...

And if you have a problem going to St. Patrick's because you "just know" that two people had sex there, well... Do I even need to bring up the priestophiles who have been sodomizing young boys? Most likely IN church?

I guess I do...

But, back to the point, the couple did something wrong; performing a lewd act in public. They were arrested, so the couple will pay the penalty for their sexual act.

But Opie and Anthony lose their jobs for airing someone ELSE'S insane act? (Even if they did egg it on, they made NO ONE perform ANY sexual acts AT ALL...)

I am not saying that O & A should not have been punished at all. They clearly showed a lack of judgement and taste. But to fire them was simply overkill.

So obviously, I am a fan of the whole free-speech thing.

But then I see something like this.

And I have to say, now there's someone who went too far and deserves to be fired.

It seems that a DJ in Phoenix, Arizona, a Beau Duran, from KUPD-FM, decided, since the local Diamondbacks were playing the Cardinals in the playoffs, he'd have some fun with it.

He made a call to one Flynn Kile and asked her if she had a date for Thursday night's game.

What's wrong with that, you ask?

Flynn Kile's husband Darryl pitched for the Cardinals...

Until he DIED OF A HEART ATTACK IN JUNE!

Chuck Artigue, the Market Manager for the Sandusky group, which owns KUPD, said the prank was in "terribly bad taste" but no action would be taken against Duran.

None. Nada. Zilch. Zippo.

He calls the widow of a baseball player and puts her through unneeded mental anguish by tormenting her with a completely classless prank, just for laughs.

FOR MOTHER FUCKING LAUGHS!

Folks, I can not believe the complete lack of tact here. The lack of class. The lack of compassion.

You know what, if I (being a Yankee fan) had a reason to root against the D-Backs before, I SURE AS HELL can't stand them now!

What? They had nothing to do with this either?

Well, Opie and Anthony didn't have sex in a church, but they got fired for being the impetus of the act.

So, I'll use the same backwards logic and make this out to be the D-Backs fault.

Although, just blaming the backwards state of Arizona itself would probably be cool too. I mean, they didn't recognize Martin Luther King Day until what, two , three years ago?

Folks, I still like "Shock" radio, but you have to know when to draw the lines. I am cool with just about ANYTHING you want to do as long as no one else gets hurt as a result of your actions.

Flynn Kile was wronged.

I hope she sued the radio station and ends up owning it.

I hope Beau Duran gets fired.

And then gets his ass kicked on an interview for a job in St. Louis or Denver or Houston (The towns that Kile pitched in.)

And I hope Opie And Anthony get back on the air soon. Because while they pushed the envelope, they DIDN'T hurt anyone in the process.

And to all you Stern wannabe's out there, get a new fucking act okay, you go too far, you have no idea what scruples are, you just keep upping the "shock" factor to try and get ratings while none of you try to actually use and talent you might have.

I simply say to you clones: It's just not funny anymore, assholes.

Getcher Freak On (Parts 1, 2 & 3)

2002-09-30T13:50:00.000-04:00

Friday night...

Overtime plays the The Rattlesnake Ranch Cafe

This is one of the nicest, biggest and best places we play. The money is good and we get advertised on WDHA when we play there.

Plus, the crowd is usually between 100-200 people.

But Friday, Jersey was getting hit by the outskirts of that hurricane, Isabella (or something). So our crowd was about 50 people.

By about 11:30, we were down to about 25, but they were all really into the band; dancing, actively participating, clapping, singing along, requesting songs, even had one guy come up and sing a bunch of songs for us. (Gave me voice a rest for Saturday's show...)

The stage is set.

PART ONE

So, as we're playing, we notice that there's a couple at the bar who are paying no attention to anything but each other. Well, actually, everyone noticed them. It was hard not to.

They're making out to beat the band (literally), rubbing against each other and basically putting on a show. Our roadie, Darren (a perv if there ever was one...), sees them and suggests they get a room.

So they do.

The LADIES BATHROOM...

Making out all the way over there, so everyone notices what's going on.

So they go in and everyone is like, "Are they...?" and "You don't think...?"

Well, when the song ended and the bar qwuieted down for a few seconds, it was BLATANTLY obvious what was going on in the handicapped stall. (One of the ladies went in to see what was going on and they never stopped...)

You could hear them from the bar.

So everyone is falling all over themselves laughing.

Danny and I start singing James Brown's "Sex Machine"

It gets a good laugh.

We then launch into our own song, "If I Were To..."

You know.

The one BLATANTLY about getting laid. ("If I could penetrate your maidenhead..." Jeez, guess what this then 21-year old's mind wandered onto a lot...)

People actually dance to it and laugh along with us.

We're all having a great time.

(But we ALL wish that WE were the ones getting laid.)

The couple finishes up and walks out hand-in-hand.

We all stop and give them a Standing O.

They barely acknowledge us... (It was THAT good, I guess... His shirt is all askew, he hair is all messed up... Both have that dreamy look in their eyes...)

We launch into "Bad Moon Rising" complete with the obligatory "They're in the bathroom on the right" and Danny's singing the verses describing what they were doing.

It gets a big laugh.

PART TWO

The couple starts making out again.

A little while later, I notice that she is behind him, with both arms around his sides and she's rubbing his crotch. His eyes are closed and he's obviously aroused again.

He turns around and they start making out again, he's fondling her at the bar. She then stands up, grabs his hand and goes back into the bathroom.

EVERYONE notices.

We're all laughing again.

Me (over the mic): Ding! Ding! Rrrrrrround TWO!

Darren goes over to the door and listens. He says fuck it and opens the door. We all see one of his hands and one of her hands on top of the stall.

We're pissing ourselves.

They're moaning.

Darren grabs Blair's digital camera and tells me to hold the door open.

I do.

He goes in and puts the camer over the stall and snaps a quick pic, flash and all.

They don't stop.

We all look at the picture. Forgot about the delay. It was a shot of the door as he pulled away.

We try again, this time, I catch a glimpse of them in the viewfinder...

Again, he pulled away too fast.

We try three more times with no luck of a "in action" shot.

To their (horror) credit, they never stopped until they were done.

They walked out to another Standing O.

They smiled.

I felt like we were a band doing porno background music...

(I may change the band slogan from "Working all day, rocking all nite" to "Overtime: Music to fuck to.")

PART THREE

So...

You'd think that was the high point of the night.

You'd be wrong.

Not five minutes after they finish up, while we're packing up, we hear a holler at the bar. Everyone (most of the crowd is still there laughing about the live sex show) turns to see this Haitian woman punch her boyfriend (a 50-ish, thin, white guy) in the mouth.

WHOA!

She proceeds to KEEP punching him. He's trying to calm her down. She's yelling "You're MY man! God dammit, you're MY motherfuckingman!"

The bartender yells for her to take it outside.

She grabs her boyfriend's shirt and tosses him into the bathroom door.

As he's getting up, she pounces on him and tosses him down the corridor.

Again, as he's getting up, she gets to him, and slams him into the wall. She then fired off three punches to the top of his head. "YOU'RE MY FUCKING MAN!!!"

She throws him out the door.

Everyone is following them, absently saying for someone to call the cops.

In the parking lot, she hauls off and clocks him one that drops him like a ton of bricks. The bartenders come up and try to calm her down. She is now screaming and cursing them and hollering.

The boyfriend gets off the ground and slowly calms her down.

They then get into their Lufthansa mini-van and drive away.

Then the cops show up.

Of course.

I see the porno couple and they're leaving.

Me: "I'd say have a good night, but I think it's already been good enough to you both."

The bartender says to me: "You know, I figured the couple fucking in the bathroom would be the high point of the night..."

So there's our Friday night gig...

Happy Birthday Rob!

2002-09-27T01:22:00.000-04:00

Today is my friend Rob Matsushita's birthday!

Please click on the link in the title of this and check out the review of his latest play, Orange Murder Suit.

I swear, it almost, ALMOST makes me wish I lived in Madison.

But then I wake up and realize, hey, I'm not a Brewers fan...

Seriously, happy birthday Rob! Wishing you lots of love and happiness in the coming year!

BTW, if you don't know who Rob is, he is a playwrite from Madison, Wisconsin by way of Montclair, New Jersey. He and I were friends in high school and have re-connected thanks to this wonderful thing that Al Gore invented, the internet.

If you haven't read Rob's work, I suggest you go RIGHT NOW to the above link and check out his stuff. I'm not only his friend, but a huge fan of his. The boy can flat out write.

Fat Bastards Go Home...

2002-09-24T12:18:00.000-04:00

Okay, I was hanging out over at FARK, checking on the latest updates. (Making sure to avoid all those ones marked boobies... Koff! Koff!)

And I found the link attached to the title of this post.

"New Law Seeks To Reduce Obesity."

So I say to myself, "What the fuck...?" and open that puppy up.

Sure enough, it seems that New York's Governor, George Pataki, has signed something called the Obesity Prevention Act. What it is turns out to be a document (perhaps a decree?) asking the New York Health Department to find ways to help New Yorkers reduce their obesity and get healthier.

The American Obesity Association (Or as the Italians call it, the Oh, Ay, Oh...) claims that the cost of fat people to the American Health System comes to about $100 million dollars a year. Obesity is also the second highest form or preventable death (next to perennial winner, smokin).

Folks, as you know, I am fighting my own fight with obesity, one that I've been losing for 32 years, but have currently turned the tide on for almost a month.

But I just can't resist.

You want to cure obesity? Take all the fat folk and ship them to Ethiopia. Then, help out with world hunger and take all the Ethiopians and bring them here. Eventually, the shit will start evening out.

Or how about a mandatory gag be placed on fat people's mouths for like 23.5 hours a day, let them take it out to eat once a day, and then only under armed supervision.

Or how about we up the health budget for the next three years to allow every overweight person to get a stomach stapling, as well as the psychiatric help to stop eating so damned much?

I guess the government is upset they can't get scientists to cure cancer, AIDS, malaria, anthrax, etc. So they wanted them to shoot for something with a higher rate of return.

Well, whatever.

All I can say is, Governor Pataki. I work in your fine state, and I am a Fat Bastard.

What'cha gonna do for me now?

Got a twinkie?

Just kidding...

How about a government subsidized handout?

I mean, even Atkins allows Government Cheese.

He Killed 16 Czechoslovakians, And He's An Interior Decorator...

2002-09-15T11:22:00.000-04:00

Folks, I have been waiting for today for 16 months.

16 very LOOOONNNNNGGGGG months.

That's how long it has been since last we saw The Sopranos, with Uncle Junior singing us out right after Meadow took off across the street from Tony.

Now tonight, 9 PM EST, on HBO, the Sopranos return in all their (occasionally) gory glory.

Now now it's time for questions to be answered.

Who will buy the farm this year? What will happen to Ralphie in regards to Jackie Jr.? Will Dr. Melfi's rape come up again? Will Gloria resurface to make thing difficult for Tony? And what about that Czech in the Pine Barrens?

All I know is I am eagerly anticipating tonight's episode!

And on a side note...

My friend and UE's own Rob Matsushita debuted his new play, Orange Murder Suit, last night.

I say we all offer him a congratulatory note and wish his show the best of luck and nothing but sold out dates!

And to my old friend, you continue to impress me with the level and excellence of your writing. I know one day I'll be going to see one of your shows on Broadway.

Congrats, Rob!

The Rumor Mill

2002-09-12T15:32:00.000-04:00

I love rumors about rock stars. I feed off of them some times. Here are three that I have heard recently.

Again, these are RUMORS, and nothing is SUBSTANTIATED.

1. Earlier this year, Roger Waters (formerly of Pink Floyd) happened upon his former band mate and current Floyd, Nick Mason in Barbados. They had dinner together.

Recently, Waters has been quoted as saying he would be open to the possibility of working with Floyd again. After all, they have come to an agreement to release "In THe Flesh" and "Echoes" in the past few years.

The rumor is that Waters long anticipated solo album (the follow-up to 1991's amazing "Amused To Death") is now becoming a Pink Floyd album, with a final tour to follow.

If this is true, I would be happier than you could possibly imagine.

2. Rumor has it that Robert Plant is pushing to reform Led Zeppelin and hit the road. Problem is, John Paul Jones is still miffed from several years back when Plant and Jimmy Page got together and never called their former bass player/keyboardist. This could happen, but it would likely take a bit of crow-eating on Plant's part.

3. Rumor has it that Van Halen's next lead singer... May be Sammy Hagar! Michael Anthony, still a close friend to Hagar, has supposedly been trying to push Eddie & Alex back with their former frontman. Sammy has publicly gotten over his anger at the brothers VH, so who knows. Again, this would be welcome news, as all I keep hearing about David Lee Roth is how bad his voice has gotten (again) and the complete and total asshole he has become.

So there you have it. Probably, all three are just hype and rumors, but if you're a fan of any of them like I am, you are hoping they are true.

9/11

2002-09-11T15:22:00.000-04:00

I write this from my computer at home, middle of the day, September 11th, 2002.

Shouldn't I be at work?

Yes I should. I took the day off.

Because I am sad? Because I am ready to burst into tears? Because I wish to honor the dead?

Partly... But mostly I am home because of fear.

Fear which has lived inside me as a kind of cancer that eats away at me from time to time. It rears it's head every morning I get on that Midtown Direct train into New York and wonder if I'll actually make it to Penn Station alive. It claws at me every day as the train enters the tunnel to go across the river, as I wonder if someone will blow up the train and I'll die in a flood of twisted metal, concrete and the river. It eats me up as I walk through Penn Station, wondering what would happen if someone crashed a plane into Madison Square Garden above me. I walk out onto 32nd Street and look at all the tall building around me and can see airplanes hitting them. I go into the subways and wonder if we'd be killed if someone were to detonate a nuclear device above us. I look suspiciously at all the helicopters that fly around the city, always NYPD choppers. I work at a Gentleman's club that has some of the oldest money in America as members. Surely, it COULD be a target. And right across the street, one of the richest (congregation-wise) synagogues in New York, which has had security for the last year, surely that would be a target as well.

I have this undercurrent of fear that eats at me the entire time I go to and am at work. Some days are better than others, some days worse. But the thought is always there.

It has made me appreciate my life a bit more, savor the things I love, hold my wife a little closer, a little longer. It makes me wonder why we are so hated that someone would consider killing themselves as a great and holy act if it involved hurting us.

When did America become the bad guys?

Ahhh, but that is just another stupid American question, now isn't it?

We've been the enemies for years, only we don't see it like that. We stand for freedom and democracy, and liberty and justice. How COULD we be the bad guys? Why don't others want to be like us? Why AREN'T they like us? Can't they see that this system is best?

Or so most Americans have been trained to think.

It all comes down to perception. We perceive things from the only vantage point we have, that of the wealthy (by the world's standards), lazy, fat, callous American, desensitized to violence, compassion and empathy.

We can't see the Bosnians point of view. Or the I.R.A.'s or the Sandinistas or the Czechnians or the South Africans or the Saudis or the Israelis or even the Al-Quaidas. We have no idea what their vantage point is. And we don't care either.

Henry Rollins once said that if someone was saying something he didn't agree with, he wouldn't boo and yell and tell him to shut up. He would sit and listen to him so he would know where the opposition stood, and why he, himself, was actually opposed to them.

Imagine that, a punk rocker actually more intelligent than most Americans out there, whose only concern is not what others think, but all about; "Me me me me me."

A perfect example of our callousness of our country is all the people around America who are "just over 9/11 and all." People in Chicago and Detroit, Miami and Los Angeles, Dallas and Seattle.

You know, those NOT living in New York/New Jersey or Washington D.C.

Yeah, well, I'm sick of it too, but I HAVE TO live with it on a day in and day out basis. I can't change the channel and forget about it. It stares me right in the face every damned day I go to New York City to go to work. It stares at me in the form of something lacking in the skyline. Two somethings, actually.

SOME of the people who don't live in an attacked area just don't get it.

I often wonder how people in Chicago would feel if the Sears Tower was attacked. Or Wrigley Field. Or the people in San Francisco if the Golden Gate were brought down. In L.A. if Hollywood were bombed. In St. Louis if the Arches tumbled, or the Space Needle in Seattle, or the refurbished downtown of Cleveland, or the Indy racetrack in Indianapolis. Imagine if you lived there and one day an airplane flew into them. And the wreckage lasted for more than a year, and everyday you had to drive past it, this place where thousands lost their lives. Maybe people you know. Maybe some you love. This ain't a test, this is the real deal.

WE in New York don't WANT to see this over and over. We're sick of being sad and angry and crying. But it doesn't go away for us like it does some other people. People who don't live where it happened, they can forget easier than we can.

Because outside of New York and Washington, no one really knows how it feels for it to happen TO YOU. It may as well have been Israel, or Bosnia, or Ireland to some.

It's the callousness I can't stand. It's the complete and utter lack of fucking empathy.

It's the; "God, I am just so SICK of 9/11 already..."

Guess what, so am I. And so are 9 million other New Yorkers and about six million other New Jerseyans and a couple of million in D.C. But we can't do ANYTHING about being sick of it. Because every fucking day it stares us right in the God-damned face. We CAN'T ignore it, we CAN'T change the channel and there's just NOTHING we can do about it...

This callousness and lack of empathy and compassion and whole "Well, it's all about me me me me me me me" attitude is part of the reason this happened to us. America is a nation of spoiled, ill-mannered, ill-tempered, forgetful and ignorant people who wouldn't know real fucking opression if it bit them on the ass.

"Oh, our civil rights! Oh, our Constitution. Oh, I can't get afford this or that anymore."

We, as a country need to go fuck ourselves.

Imagine if you couldn't have an opinion and state it. Imagine if your land was taken from you. Imagine if you were sold into slavery. Imagine if you couldn't afford to eat, let alone buy a new car this year. Imagine if your wife had to prostitute herself to buy formula for your child. Imagine if your traditions were smashed and your culture was taken away from you. Imagine if death really DID seem like a better alternative.

THAT'S fucking oppression. Not what these whiny mother fuckers call oppression.

But on the other hand, we have been raised with a certain expectation. We have been raised free, with the rights afforded to American citizens. So why SHOULD we give up ANY of out civil rights and liberties? We already HAD a Revolutionary War, we already HAD a Civil War, we already HAD civil rights movement.

We saw what happened in Nazi Germany and Communist Russia. We saw the Stasi and the SS and the KGB. We don't want this to happen here. NIMBY. Not In My Back Yard.

But now, we have this tragedy one year ago today. And some of us, because of this, are willing to sacrifice some of these liberties and rights for the feeling of safety.

Well, let me introduce you to the feelings of two other Americans...

"They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." - Benjamin Franklin

"Those who desire to give up freedom in order to gain security will not have, nor do they deserve, either one" - President Thomas Jefferson

Get it?

We shouldn't have to be keeping an eye on our neighbors (as suggested by the T.I.P.S. program) or imprisoning people without trials, under the banner of just "suspicion".

This is not the America ANYONE envisioned.

You say Jefferson and Franklin are outdated, they are not from modern times. How could they know what it's like to watch the Twin Towers fall?

No, but they also lived through the Revolutionary War. When their very lives and way of living hung in the balance for YEARS of fighting. They saw their share of fellow patriots die. They put their own necks on the line by signing the Declaration of Independence. They understood and accepted this as risks worth taking.

So why can't we? Have we gotten too comfortable in our lives? Perhaps. Have we taken advantage of the system and it's gains for so long, we forgot that there is a cost for freedom? You betcha.

So then, going back to my original point, why am I at home instead of at work? Why don't I take these risks as I am preaching to the rest for us?

Because I am afraid, but not only of terrorists. I am afraid of assholes like Timothy McVeigh who might see today as a great opportunity to show the world their OWN agenda and take out a few other Americans while they're at it. Because I have grown up in a world of Columbine and Waco and Oklahoma City and McDonald's shootings and Rodney King riots and Charles Manson and Reagan being shot and the Pope being shot, Mandela being imprisoned and Biko being killed and I.R.A. bombings and Hale Bop Comet suicides and Sadat being assassinated and car bombings and Idi Amin and Pol Pot and Vietnam and Starkweather and Dahmer and DiFrisco and the Unabomber.

Don't know who DiFrisco is? He's the guy who killed my father.

I have watched all of this in my lifetime, I have read the stories of JFK and MLK and RFK and about Hitler and Stalin and Lenin and FDR.

And I know, seeing those towers come down, seeing the Pentagon attacked, I KNOW that anyone with an agenda can do WHATEVER the hell they want. To whoever they want. Whenever they want.

You see, I mentioned Henry Rollins' words before, and they are intelligent and true. But now, people are coming after us and not even giving a reason. There is no debate, there is no exchange, there is no "Say goodbye, Mr. Bond..."

They are just out to kill.

So here's how I look at it... An attack can happen at any time, from anywhere. But today, the odds are up, because the idiots out there might wanna make a statement. (As McVeigh did by blowing up that building in Oklahoma City on the 2nd anniversary of Waco's burning...)

And me, I like to play the odds.

And today, the odds are decidedly stacked against us. Tomorrow, I'll be fine. I'll be back on that train, trying not to think too much of scary things, and I'll be back at my desk, typing away on my PC.

But today, yeah, I'm gonna pay a little tribute, yeah, I'm gonna sit and watch hours of tv and probably cry a bit, but I'm gonna be home, with my wife.

Where I think, today, I belong.

Peace. Compassion. Empathy. Love.

"And now abides faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love." - St. Paul

"Everything Is Gonna Be All Right." - Bob Marley

The Real Superman

2002-09-10T14:13:00.000-04:00

The following was taken from an AP report. It is simply too cool to not share with you all...

NEW YORK (AP) - Christopher Reeve has regained some movement and sensation in his hands and feet, seven years after a horse-riding accident that left him paralyzed from the neck down.

The "Superman" star also can breathe on his own for 90 minutes at a time, according to an article in the Sept. 23 issue of People magazine.

"To be able to feel the just lightest touch is really a gift," Reeve said.

The actor has received treatment for the past three years through the "activity-based recovery program" that his doctor, John McDonald, created. The therapy consists of electrical muscle stimulation combined with repetitive motion exercises.

The results: Reeve can move the fingers on his left hand and the toes on both feet. He can feel a pin prick on most parts of his body and can tell the difference between hot and cold, and sharp and dull.

"No one who has suffered an injury as severe as Chris', and failed to have any initial recovery, has regained the amount of motor and sensory function he has," said McDonald, the medical director of the Spinal Cord Injury Program at Washington University School of Medicine in St. Louis.

Reeve had hoped to walk again by his 50th birthday, Sept. 25. But he says he's still encouraged, even though he won't reach that goal.

"The fact is that even if your body doesn't work the way it used to, the heart and the mind and the spirit are not diminished," he told the magazine. "It's as simple as that."

Reeve documents his progress in a new book, "Nothing is Impossible: Reflections on a New Life," and in an ABC program airing Sept. 18.

What's the difference with these two pictures? The picture on the right is a real hero...

Best wishes to Mr. Reeve and his family on his continued recovery. I too now believe you will walk again.

Peace.

Discuss Amongst Yourselves... Sad Songs

2002-09-09T10:49:00.000-04:00

I have decided to continue a conversation that started with Bronwyn on Friday and continued with UE yesterday. Only here I am going to expand my own list. Why? This is my site, and I pay for it. Quite simply, I'll do what I like here... =o)

So what I figure I'll do is list some of my favorite sad songs and then let you all write in with your own, and whether you agree or disagree with mine.

1. "Still Looking For A Way To Say Goodbye" - Richie Havens - Okay, you wanna just be DEVASTATED by a song, look no further than this. This was on the soundtrack to the movie "Wired" and I suggest it to anyone who can deal with emotions.

2. "When The Tigers Broke Free" - Pink Floyd (Echoes) - Roger Water's railing at the heavens over the death of his father in World War II. Both one of the saddest and the angriest songs I have EVER heard.

3. "1,000 Oceans" - Tori Amos (To Venus And Back) - The song Tori wrote about her miscarriage... You don't get much sadder than this, folks.

4. "Little Did She Know (She Kissed A Hero)" - Kristy Jackson - Released soon after the 9/11 attacks last year. A song written from to the wives of the men who tried to retake Flight 93. Chilling.

5. "7 O'Clock News / Silent Night" - Simon And Garfunkel (Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme) - A somber Silent Night played by the duo while the Christmas version of the 7 O'Clock news slowly gets louder, discussing Vietnam, Charles Starkweather and Lenny Bruce's fatal OD... This puts a lot of life into perspective. It is played in my home EVERY Christmas. Sobering thought.

6. "Where've You Been?" - Kathy Mattea - About a married couple as they get older. Ends up with them in the hospital at the same time... This WAS my grandparents lives... I just can't...

7. "Nobody's Hero" - Rush (Counterparts) - A song about the reality of AIDS and tolerance. It just chokes me up every time I hear it...

8. "Empty Garden (Hey Hey Johnny)" - Elton John - Amazing how one insect can ruin so much grain... Indeed. And I keep calling, "Hey, hey Johnny..."

9. "Silent All These Years" - Tori Amos (Little Earthquakes) - The oppressed girl in the bad relationship finally stands up for herself. Years go by and I choke on my tears until finally there is nothing left...

10. "Night Shift" - The Commodores - A tribute to two fallen friends, Jackie Wilson and Marvin Gaye. And if you love them like I do, you feel the pain as well... To silence thos incredible voices forever...

11. "Helplessly Hoping" - CSNY - Wow, just a hauntingly beautiful song. The harmonies are as close to perfect as you can get.

12. "Safe And Sound" - Sheryl Crow (C'mon, C'mon) - To me, this is the theme song for all the rescue workers at ground zero, who worked for months, hour upon hour, risking their lives to try and find somebody, ANYBODY in there... Feel like I could have saved you...

13. "Imagine" - John Lennon or Neil Young - Lennon's version because I danced with my mother at my wedding to it, in tribute to my father. Neil Young's because of his playing it at the tribute to heroes after 9/11.

14. "The Needle And The Damage Done" - Neil Young - Neil's guitarist had been fired for being completely wasted on drugs all the time. Neil gave him money to get a bus home, he ended up buying the herion shot that would kill him. This haunted Neil for years.

15. "The Hurricane" - Bob Dylan - When you know the story, or you see the movie, this song makes you terribly sad for Reuben Carter, and at the same time pissed off that this happened to him.

16. "The Ghost Of Tom Joad" - Bruce Springsteen - Wherever you see a man struggling to be free, just look in their eyes ma, and you'll see me... A quote from the "Grapes Of Wrath" a great book and movie.

17. "Into The Fire" - Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band (The Rising) - A song directly about the firefighters who lost their lives on 9/11 by fearlessly running into the flames while everyone else was trying to get out.

I wanna hear some sad songs for you. Even if they are only personally sad (Like "Leader Of The Band" always gets me because of my dad having been a musician, and I followed in his footsteps...)

So what say you?

Fat Bastard

2002-09-05T10:59:00.000-04:00

Okay folks, total honesty time here. Brutal honesty.

I, your ever loveable Potch, am a fat bastard.

(The crowd gasps in surprise!)

No, it's true. I am hefty, obese, porky, pudgy, plump, flabby, round, extra large and when I sit around the house, I sit AROUND the house.

Ha fucking ha.

I've heard them all. Hell, I tell them all to beat some of the fuckheads out there to the punch, to not give them the satisfaction of seeing what a bad putdown artist I am.

In general, my family and friends have been amazingly supportive. They never bring up my weight, they "don't go there."

But, I have to.

I am 31 years old, I am 6 feet tall and I weigh about 350 lbs. Talk about tons O' fun, huh? (See, I can't stop myself...)

Six years ago, I weighed 270 lbs., what I weighed when I graduated High School. (No Rob reference, hold yer booze, folks... Wait, I just did... Drink...)

I have put on 80 lbs. in six years due to both a diet of junk food and soda and a complete and total lack of exercise.

The state I am in right now? Well, let's see...

1. It is September and I have used all of my sick and personal day already. (all but one due to being ill)

2. My left heel hurts CONSTANTLY, and especially bad when I get out of bed.

3. My lower back always hurts.

4. I get winded going up even a small flight of stairs.

5. I finish dinner and IMMEDIATELY grab a snack... ALL the time.

6. I don't look good in dress clothes anymore.

7. I have acid reflux so bad that often I have to run to the bathroom two or three times a night because food is coming back up while I sleep.

8. My snoring (always bad) is now accompanied by Cheyne Stoking, where you actually STOP BREATHING while you sleep. I also have sleep apnea.

Now, I look forward to having children someday soon. In fact, according to the loose "plan" my wife and I made a few year back, I could be a father this time next year. I doubt it, but we could. And let me tell you, I want kids real bad.

But, how can I expect to chase a child around all day when I can't even run anymore? God forbid the kid is in danger, and I can't save them? Because I'm too fat?

Fuck that noise.

This is something that has been coming for a long time, but much quicker lately. Actually, what really got me scared was three things.

1. This obesity special on The Discovery Channel. It had those 700 lbs. bed-ridden people on it. I am terrified of this happening to me, especially since moving has begun to hurt these days...

2. The Blues Traveler Behind The Music where John Popper says that he was having chest pains for about 3 months, then blacked out at a show. When they checked him out, they found one of the arteries to his heart was 95% blocked. "It's as close to a heart attack you can come without having one."

3. Cardinals pitcher Darryl Kile's death. The autopsy showed that three of this arteries were almost completely clogged! An athlete! A picture of health!

So I got scared. Fuck, I AM scared. I have abused the shit out of myself for many years now. Who knows how much damage I have done to myself? Hopefully nothing too serious, but I don't know.

So I have decided to stop it all, cold. I am weaning myself off soda (I have switched to all diet for now, but within weeks, I want that to be none), I have replaced breakfast with a Slim Fast shake, I am NOT binge eating, I am NOT snacking. I AM drinking lots of water. I AM exercising (brisk walking 30-40 minutes a day).

I have had ENOUGH already!

I am sick of being sick!

I want to be able to buy normal clothes. To run with my children. To play softball again.

And I will. My goal is 300 or less by Christmas. I WILL do it. Not because I should. Because I have to.

I have to change my life or I risk dying young. And dying when you're not really sick is really sick, you know? Really!

So thank you to all who have thrown any support my way, this won't be easy, but nothing worth having is easy.

All I ask is please don't offer me any cake or cookies. I am done with them, no matter how much I may want them.

Broken Axl

2002-08-30T11:54:00.000-04:00

I'll preface this by saying that I detest MTV. I can't stand the corporate golem that it has become, having more shows (having nothing to do with music) than music itself, single-handedly bullying the music business and our teens with their expendable cash into whatever trend they decide upon. They have brought on the current litany of "Style over substance" acts out there. I mean, when a musical genius like Ani DiFranco gets ignored in favor of N'Stync and the Backdoor Boys, popular music is in shambles.

But there I was, watching this hated channel last night.

Okay, It had as much to do with being brought up ON MTV as anything as to why I still subject myself to this crap year in and year out.

Last night, MTV had thier Annual Video Music Awards. Sadly, I watched all 4 hours of it (Pre and Post show).

Now, my problems with the evening began during the red-carpet preshow. They had this pre-pubescent moron Gideon Yugo (Yeah, I know it's Yago, but he's as disposable as the Yugo, so...) interviewing The Strokes and Moby. He asked the singer of the Strokes one question and before he was done answering, Gideon cut him off and asked Moby a question. Moby, in his typical "I'm not really comfortable with fame" schtick, took FOREVER to answer, and Yago decided to ask him more questions. Eventually, the Strokes tired of being ignored and actually went to answer FOR the chrome-domed one. A bad, bad job of interviewing, completely ignoring a whole band to talk to a much less charismatic single person. I rolled my eyes and dug in.

I knew it was gonna be a long night...

The show opened with Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street band in from of the Museum of Natural History playing "The Rising". They played it fine, but the mix was bad and you couldn't heard the guitar or the bass, let alone Clarence's sax solo at the end.

Then they cut back to Radio City Music Hall to Jimmy Fallon (who I simply CAN NOT stomach) dressed as Eminem-dressed-as-Robin and rapping new words (relevant to the show) to Em's "Without Me". Cute. Then he also went on to spoof The Dave Matthews Band's "Everyday," Avril Lavigne's "Complicated," a song by Nelly, the White Stripe's "Fell In Love With A Girl," and Enrique Iglesias' "Hero" (which, I admit, I howled with laughter as he donned that stupid wool cap and a HUGE beauty mark....). He finished up by "going to church" with a gospel choir, with a little help from James Brown.

Now... This all would have been a little bit better had... He LIP SYNCHED... He spent the whole medley gasping for breath and barely able to get the words out, and usually he was saying them so breathlessly, you couldn't understand a word he said.

Look, Jimmy... People criticize REAL singers for lip-synching because it's Cheesy. YOU'RE NOT a real singer... No one would have faulted you for pre-recording the bit and then lip-synching. (The only people who might fault you would be Ellen DeGeneres and Billy Crystal and Whoopi Goldberg, who all have done the exact same thing you did last night, and all did it WAAAAY better.)

Then Brittney Spears comes out in a leather bondage outfit that probably had thousands of middle aged men whipping it out and spanking it... Until Michael Jackson comes out and causes a sudden case of blue-balls for all of them.

Just a sad note... Mikey's face just keeps disappearing. Last night was his 44th birthday and he looks like a 44 year old corpse. I'm renaming him Skeletor.

Well, no big surprises in the award themselves. Pretty much, if you performed and were nominated for ANYTHING, you won. (Typical MTV ploy, "Hey, if you preform, you'll win an award...")

The acts were...

Well...

Pink was pretty damned good doing her latest single, "Like A Pill". She also looked AWESOME! Check it out...

Nas, Ja Rule and Ashanti (God, three of the biggest musical whores out there... Was the a song they WEREN'T on this year?) were... Ehhh...

Shakira was pretty decent doing "Objection." (That girl can freaking MOVE... DAMN!)

P. Diddy came out and did a... Medley? No, a medley is a group of songs that all go into each other, without stopping... Puffy did like six songs... PIECES of six songs... He had help from a large group of dancers, Busta Rhymes, Usher and a little white kid in catchers equipment... No, I don't get it either...

Then there was the Hives and the Vines in a "punk off."

Okay, I like the songs I have heard from these bands. BUT... They ARE SOOOOOO NOT punk. They are more like the rebirth of New Wave.

As for their performance... What they lacked in talent and quality and tightness, they made up for with their angst and energy. But personally, I can't understand why you had these two bands play and have the Strokes sit in the audience...

I guess because the Strokes would have likely blown them off the stage.

In the uncomfortable moments of the night: Triumph the Insult Comic Dog ragging on Moby while sitting on his shoulder, then trying to talk to Eminem who tells him, "I've done my camera time..." Wow... That was... Blatant...

Then Sammy Hagar and David Lee Roth both talking over each other and throwing slight insults at each other... And Dave asking Sammy what his favorite Linkin Park song was, Sammy saying, "I don't know any..." And then having to give them the award they were presenting...

Or Christina Aguilera having to give an award to Eminem (who has trashed her in song)... His only acknowledgement of her presence when he said "Thanks" when she gave him the award...

Or when Jimmy Fallon told ANY jokes... (There was simply no laughter...) For example, telling everyone that there had been an emergency backstage, that Fat Joe had eaten an Olsen twin... Then they cut to Joe sitting there, not even cracking a smile... Look, from what I can tell, Fat Joe is a pretty decent guy. Why bust on him?

Or, after Michael Jackson get the "Artist Of The Millenium" award (read as "simply a ploy to get more star power on our sorry excuse for a show"), Jimmy walks out with the same award and says they're giving them out for free backstage... Then saying, "Hey, Michael looks good for 44, but I think he's had some work done..."

I can't stand MJ as much as anyone, but what did Jimmy Fallon ever do that can warrant his slamming Mikey like that? Try that after you have a career, dumbass.

Or the fact that Mikey was there, and so was his ex, Lisa Marie Presley-Cage...

And then, Eminem calling Moby a "little Moby girl," while accepting an award. As the crowd started booing, he looked at the crowd and said, "Keep it up, I got no problem punching a man with glasses..."

Some would call this career suicide, for Em, it was another day at the office.

Then, there was the big moment of the night, the big surprise for us all...

Guns N' Posers... Uhh, Roses...

Man, I loved these guys when I was 18! I thought they were gonna be the next Led Zeppelin (provided they didn't OD first...)

But... This WASN'T GNR... This was the ultimate GNR cover band. This was the latest incarnation of Boston. This was Floyd going out without Waters. This was all those old time rockers going out with only one member of the band left.

Only worse than all of them...

They replaced Slash and Izzy with three guitarists. On, Buckethead, is SUPPUSED to be phenomenal. He did nothing to impress me at all. He just stood the with a rain slicker, a white mask, and a KFC bucket on his head. Check out the new fashion!

Another guitarist looked like a reject from Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson, and the third, a reject from the New York Dolls.

And then there was Axl...

Axl... Axl... Axl...

How the mighty have fallen...

Wow!

He's put on considerable weight, he's has plastic surgery, he has braided hair...

AND HE CAN NOT SING ANYMORE!!! I couldn't even tell you how many times his voice cracked, went off key or just gave out...

And he's running all over the stage, huffing and puffing like Jimmy Fallon did. Obviously out of shape, voice in tatters, I can't BELIEVE after ten years of nothing, THIS is what he chooses as his comeback.

Not no mentioned the terrible segues from "Welcome To The Jungle," to some never heard before song, to the ending of "Paradise City."

Axl wasn't ready, the BAND wasn't ready. It was terrible. It was a sad, sad joke.

And I feel justified in saying this because I sawthe real fucking thing at Giants stadium (with Faith No More and Metallica) back in `92. No comparision.

Then all the idiots working for MTV are all creaming themselves with, "OHMYGODGUNSNROSESISBACKTHATWASSOFUCKINGAWESOME!!!"

Kiss ass corporate fools. I would have LOVED just one guy to stand up and say, "I saw'em ten years ago... Sorry to see how bad they've become..."

Iann Robinson and Gideon Yugo couldn't stop sucking Axl's ass as they cooed (yes, actually cooed like little girls) over the performance.

You know what... I say this every year, and every year I was wrong, but I am done. Through. I can not stomach another show like this one. Easily, the WORST VMA's EVER. I mean, when even Anthony Kiedis is unfunny and uncool looking, you know SOMETHING is wrong...

Growing Pains

2002-08-27T13:25:00.000-04:00

I wrote the following as a reply to something Wil posted over on WWDN. Above is the link for the article I am referring to.

Welcome to thirty, Wheaton!

That glorious age of life reassessment, questions and the search for answers.

It's called growing up. =o)

It sounds to me like you've gone through what about 95% of artists of any kind go through, the big "realization" that you've peaked.

(Now, I say this sincerely hoping that you HAVEN'T and that Wesley Crusher, Borg Queen will one day be a major motion picture for you)

It's that realization that ballplayers have that they're never gonna be Derek Jeter or Terry Bradshaw or Larry Bird or Wayne Gretzsky.

Or the artist who realizes that they are never gonna be Andy Warhol, or the writer who will never be Poe or even Stephen King, the musician who will never be Bob Dylan or Public Enemy.

Or the actor who realizes he will never be Tom Cruise.

Then it all boils down to one thing. How much do you love it?

And in most cases, I think you'll find people making the same decisions you did.

Family matters more. Friends.

So you look to be able to make money, ANY amount of money doing something you love. Just to justify it.

Ball players go to the minors, or coach.

Artists teach art. Writers freelance articles, or maybe write just for themselves and their friends.

Or, perhaps, like a friend of ours, they become a playwright.

Me, I'm a musician. I gave up on the dream of "making it" about three years ago.

But, now I play almost every weekend in a mostly cover band. I make pretty decent money doing this. It is helping to support my family while my wife is interning this year.

You (quite rightly) took an acting gig to help support your family. You're making money doing something you love.

Now, some people (mostly, those who haven't gotten to 30 yet, I assume) might say, "Hey Wheaton, you sold out, you bitch!"

Hell, I've had people say that to me about being in a cover band.

But you know what?

Fuck'em.

If they don't want you to sell out, tell THEM to paying your frikkin' bills.

You're doing something you enjoy and you're getting PAID to do it. This is a dream to most people! Anyone with a problem with you doing so, is probably jealous.

And real quick, I've noticed something about the big "realization..."

It has an odd way of making things happen.

In the last two years, my band has recorded two cds (one covers and one all original), gotten gigs in Hoboken (the hottest town for bands to play in in Jersey), AND been played on the radio.

I decided to "grow up" and stop chasing the brass ring, and oddly enough, in a small way, it instead rolled right on up to me.

I may never be a big rock star, but I am already further along than I ever dreamed.

Maybe, in making the same decision, the same will happen to you, Wil.

Anyway you slice it, you got a pretty loyal bunch of us who will come on out and see whatever you DO appear in.

Peace, dude!

You Just DON'T Get Much Rarer Than This

2002-08-27T12:23:00.000-04:00

Okay folks, Potch here caught a rarity the other day. In fact, it may have been a once in a lifetime occurrance of the odd.

And it happened right here in lovely New York City.

Friday afternoon, I was on the N train heading downtown To Penn Station to go home. The ride was unevenful until the train stopped at 42nd Street and a gentleman got on the car.

An albino.

Okay, not so rare. Nothing freaky. But not quite an everyday occurrance. You tend to notice these things, like you notice someone missing a limb or having a very bad hair day. You're not being mean, or bigoted, it's just something outside the norm, so you notice it.

So this albino gets on the car. But not just any albino, but a negro albino. I had never seen this before and admit I probably stared a little too long. I diverted my attention elsewhere and forgot about it. The car stopped at 34th Street and I got out and headed upstairs and out onto 34th itself.

And there I saw another albino.

And i said to myself, well, this is pretty freaky, maybe it's the same guy.

But it wasn't, this albino was an Asian.

So, in the span of about three minutes, I saw two albinos (rare in and of itself), but neither were causcasian (even rarer) and I've never seen an albino before that wasn't a caucasian.

So how odd it that?

No real point to the story, just wondering if anything like this has happened to anyone else before?

Friends

2002-08-22T14:16:00.000-04:00

Okay, I got inspiration to write this article from reading this essay by my buddy Roughy. And, since I've only been a member of the UE crew since late April, I found out about by reading this top 10 list by my buddy Rob Matsushita, playwright from Wisconsin. Whines a lot.

(Hey, I took that line from his own damned website, okay?)

I really like the guy. He's one of the most genuinely hilarious people I have ever met. Turns out he's a pretty damned fantastic writer as well. And, oddly enough, I have more good memories of him from high school (even though we only went to HS together for that year-and-a-half that I lived in Montclair) than I do from some guys I went to Kindergarten through eighth grade with. I always just called him Rob, but now think of him as Bobby The Mat, sometimes... Or Matsu...

In short, I haven't seen him in fifteen years, but I talk more to him online than I do most people in person. He's good people.

I had four other friends I'll mention from that short time in Montclair.

1. Chris Baker - He and Rob were like the Dynamic Duo. Together, they were fall-down, piss yourself funny. Alone, each was pretty damned hilarious as well.
2. Vinnie Maffuci - The most popular kid in school, even as a freshman it seemed. Everybody knew and liked Vinnie.
3. Damon Weber - Drum prodigy. Seemed okay...
4. Scott Geller - From the rich neighborhood. Didn't have much in common. My first friend in Montclair, and quickly my first ex-friend in Montclair..

When I moved back to Maplewood, going to Columbia high school, I had a circle of friends. Some old, some new. There was:

1. Blair Tilley - My best friend.
2. Fred Zilliox - My other best friend, and my oldest friend.
3. Rich Jones - Our drinking buddy and general card.
4. T.J. Donohue - An old friend who became a best friend in high school.
5. Brad Goodwin - A new friend, through T.J.
6. Josh Burke - Another new friend.

I called us the Magnificent Seven.

Which is pretty funny, because by high school standards, every guy I just mentioned, excepting Vinnie, was a "loser".

We were not the most fashionable, we didn't play sports (well Josh was on the swim team, but...), we weren't all the most hygienic, outgoing, sane, wealthy, etc.

Most of us came from good homes and loving families. Most of us had been loners at one time.

We took comfort in each other by being friends. We'd make fun of the popular kids.

And each other.

Hell, we had the material, God knows we heard it from enough other people.

Now, here's something for you to chew on, swallow, pass through your lower intestine and crap out.

I still have contact with all but three of them. And would count five of them among my closest friends.

Now.

Thirteen years after I have graduated.

At age Thirty-one.

I still have five of my closest friends from high school among my closest friends now.

Who does that?

My best friends are still Blair and Fred.

Blair I have known since seventh grade. We have called him through the years: Atomic Furball, Chewie, R & R, Blur, Hair, and Vest of Hair. He plays bass guitar in our band, Overtime. His mother let me live at his house for junior & senior year, so I wouldn't have to switch schools again when my mom moved for the fourth time in 2 years. He has helped me on almost every move I have had to do, he always is there to listen to me whine, he gave me a floppy drive when mine broke down. GAVE.

And, though most see him as quiet, He is one of the more insightful people I know. Invariably, he has this ability to cut through the bullshit and tell it like it is. You know, the side you're too stubborn, stupid or blind to see.

Fred, I have known since Kindergarten. He is the guy I like to call The Concert Dude, or Derf (Fred backwards). He used to be afraid to go out at night, even when he got his license. He would have to do homework or work for his Eagle scout badge. Then, we got him out a few times, introduced him to my little friend, Bud (Weiser), and he became a party animal. He has an encyclopedia-like mind when it comes to music, possibly due to his 1000+ cds and 700+ concerts. He has also helped out with almost every move I have ever had. He is a funny guy.

And I'll admit, at 6'5", he's a big guy, and maybe he doesn't look like Brad Pitt, but he is one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet. He's loyal and devoted to his family and friends.

T.J. I have known since about second grade. T.J. has been called: Thomas, Teej, T-Bird, Tom, Uncle Milty, Doc Graybo & Milt. We always got along, I think, because we are a lot alike. We both are overweight, always have been, both with dark hair and brown eyes. We both read, like the Yankees, played D & D, like movies, are interested in sci-fi, like classic rock, and play instruments. T.J. was the drummer in our first band, Time Rider, and stuck with us through The Vigilante Cowboys, Tempest, The Milttones and was the drummer in Overtime for three years.

T.J. and I always could find something to talk about; sports, TV, movies, Star Wars, Star Trek, anything. I would have to say, to this day, T.J. is the easiest friend to converse with that I have. We almost have to be pulled apart by our wives when we get going.

Then there is Brad. Brad has always been called... Brad. He's the normal one. He actually looks like he doesn't fit in with us (possibly due to his thinness). I always kind of wondered why Brad was stuck hanging out with us, I mean he's blonde, blue eyed, came from a wealthier family than all of us, but he still hung out with us.

And I realized, it was because he liked us. Because in us, he found real friendship. And likewise.

And that's kind of my whole point.

We were called "losers" in high school. All of us.

Hell, we even took to calling ourselves that for a while, like a badge... Or a letter. An "L" on the forehead.

But how much are we really losers? I can say right now, that I can count Blair, Fred, T.J., Rob & Brad as good, close friends... (Okay, well I haven't seen Rob in a long time as he lives in fucking Wisconsin, but...)

I am glad that I found Rob on the internet a few years ago. He was someone I was truly sorry to say I lost touch with.

I also, thanks to the web, have been found by another old friend, Mike Lacey. Mike is one of the more unique personalities you'll EVER meet. You certainly never forget him. Check out the link to see his website, and you'll understand. (I keep trying to talk him into his own blog for the site, but...)

Then there's Danny Wade, Overtime's drummer and a friend since second grade. (Funny, I met both of the drummers I would play with the most in my life in second grade...) Danny is a no nonsense guy who will tell it like it is and not beat around the bush. He is one of the most focused, dedicated and loyal people I know. He also has a knack for mimicry and he keeps us in stitches by imitating... Well... Us...

Then there's Tom Gesior, a guy I've been friends with since first grade who recently popped back into my life. We used to have these monster pillow fights in my house. And I'm not talking like a girls slumber party pillow fight, either. He had this light pillow that he would swing fast as lightning and hit me like thirty times with before I could raise my arm to strike. And what did I strike with? I had four pillows sewed together into one fifteen pound monster of a pillow. I'd hit him once to his thirty hits, but my hits would take him off his feet and make him airborne...

He wants a rematch now... =o)

Then there's Darren O'Rourke, the Road Manager for Overtime. I'm still getting to know Darren, but I can say this... The man knows how to have a good time. Also, being the only single guy in the band, we kind of live vicariously through his... Uhh... Exploits. "There I was, strapped to the hood of a Chevy Impala, motor oil all over my pecker when she mounted me..." WHOA! =o)

Then there's Rusty from Rockerdown, who gave me my first opportunity to branch out with my writing. Rusty's a pretty cool guy with musical tastes similar to mine and a penchant for brushes with the law...

And Roughy and T-Dawg over at UE, for adding me on as a reviewer. Roughy, the guy who runs UE and is always willing to chime in with a well thought out opinion (Except when he called me an Uber-Patriot... I just don't get that...) and T-Dawg, the man behind the scenes working his tail off to keep UE up and running.

And all the great new people I have met and became friends with on those two great sites, like: Pope Buck I who is a close friend of Rob's who is pretty damned funny himself, Kendoka a great young lady who can do a killer Pincess Leia impression and thwack tummy with her Kendo, the lovely Miss Bronwyn (how cool of a name is that?), Mr Spock who is a very cool, well spoken... Lady, Shredder who is always up for a good round of paint ball with William Farking Shatner, Shell a great lady who I play six degrees of separation with via e-mail, the ever opinionated (yet loveable) Bobbo, frequest commentor JsC, TJ another on going for frequent commentator miles, Vickie who I recently found out shares with me a love of the band STYX, and, perhaps the strangest of them all, for me, Media Yenta, who I actually went to Montclair High School with, but who I didn't know back then.

And, lest we forget, television's own Wil Wheaton.

My circle of online friends...

So there they all are, my friends.

Oh, and one more...

Sheila Potcher, my wife.

My reason for waking up every morning and not saying, "Fuck it, I'm going back to bed..." My confidant, my shoulder to cry on, my gossip sharer, my truly better half.

She makes me smile just walking in a room, and eases my mind just talking to me. She's good at what I am not and is a great teacher. (Anyone who ever saw what a mess my room was in the old days can attest to that...)

So there it is; me, a loser in high school (who always wore jeans and ripped red tee-shirts... Look out ladies, I'm en Fuego!) who got the homecoming queen and class valedictorian all in one shot.

And I shagged her rotten, baby! Yeah!

To all my friends, thank you all for your patience, understanding, compassion, humor, stubbornness and friendship. I can only hope that you feel the same way about me that I do about you, for without you all, life would be that much emptier, that much sadder, that much quieter and that much lonelier.

Peace.

Potch's Rant On The Death Penalty (Courtesy Of Rockerdown)

2002-08-12T22:20:00.000-04:00

This is taken, verbatim, from my rant on the death penalty over at Rockerdown

Folks, let me preface this debate between Rusty and I by saying that we all come from very different backgrounds, and each of us forms our view of the world through only our own eyes. My life experiences are different than Rusty's, that is why we have different opinions on things.

One of them is regarding the death penalty, so I decided to post here my view, with a rebuttal by Rusty.

I am for the death penalty. Rusty is not.

And both of us have legitimate reasons for having these opinions. Here's mine.

Let me start by saying that I don't think anyone can truly have a real opinion on the death penalty until someone you know has been: a) murdered, b) convicted of murder or is facing a trial for murder.

That being said, I believe Rusty and I both qualify to have what I have just deemed as real opinions. (Not to say Joe Somebody can't have his own real opinion, but I would say he just doesn't truly understand it, from either side)

When I was 15 years old, I got a call one Tuesday night in August of 1986. The person on the other line asked for my mother. I put her on and went back to my room.

Three minutes later, she ran in my room and told me to get dressed, we were going to University Hospital in Newark. My father had been shot.

That was all we had. Didn't know if it was a robbery, and argument, where he was shot, how bad he was, if he was still alive. Nothing.

We flew to the hospital as fast as possible, arriving about a half an hour after the call.

I pray you never have to have a half an hour like that in your lives.

We arrived at the hospital and Ricky Barth, a Maplewood police office who I have known my entire life met us at the door. When he asked us to sit down, I knew that my worst fears were true.

My father was dead.

Six gunshot wounds. Three pointblank to the head, one to the arm, two to the chest.

He survived almost an hour after this all happened. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. Every cop on the Maplewood force (who all knew my father, a local pizzeria owner) was at the scene as fast as possible. He was found in a pool of blood by his delivery guy, Andy, who had gone through high school with my dad. They knew each other twenty years.

His body was in a trauma room if I wanted to see him.

I said no, as the visual could be no worse than what was going through my head at that moment.

We were asked to go to Police HQ. On the way home, was actually (stupidly) passed the pizzeria (I guess out of habit.)

There was a large pool of blood on the floor where my father had lain.

When I walked out of the hospital, I wanted vengeance. I wanted to hunt down the person who did this to my father and kill them, personally.

And all I kept asking, over and over again, was why?

Why did this happen to me and my family?

Within a year, I found out all...

My father was doing as well as dealing drugs from a guy who was in prison.

Hello first role model of my life, your image of superman is shattered forever.

The guy in prison knew that my father knew the entire Maplewood Police force. He was unsure if my father was legit, and was afraid of being turned in. So he turned to a guy who was about to get out. He was a coke-head who wanted a fix. The dealer hired him for $2,500 to kill my father.

So he did. He walked in that August night, ordered a pizza, had a slice, waited for the delivery guy to leave, then shot my dad three times with a silenced pistol. He then walked over to him and shot him three times in the head to finish the job.

He then ran out the back door. Andy returned in a few minutes and found my dad.

They had no leads.

Until a guy in the Bronx gets picked up for armed robbery. He is a repeat offender and about to go back to jail for the long term stretch. He tries to plea bargain his way out.

"What's worse, if you kill somebody for someone or if you hire someone to kill someone?"

The cops told him hire.

He agreed to bring them to a place where a murder was committed the year before.

He brought them to Jack's Pizza... MY pizzeria.

The Maplewood cops were present and almost shit a brick. No leads, and here the guy was giving them everything.

Turns out, he was hired to kill my father by this guy in prison. The cops give him a one shot offer of trying to nail the guy in prison.

He refuses for whatever reason.

So the is immediately incarcerated and the trial comes. He pleads guilty and waives his right to a jury.

Meaning the judge has two choices: Life with no payroll or Death Penalty.

He chooses death.

A year later, the decision is reversed because even though he admitted to the crime, they had no evidence.

Two months later, he was back on death row when the Maplewood Police presented a half eaten slice of pizza which matched his dental records. He left it behind after shooting my dad.

He is currently one of thirteen men on New Jersey's death row. He is on death row with Jesse Timmendequas, the sick fucker who killed Megan Kanka, for which Megan's Law was established about known pedophiles.

When the day comes for his execution, I will probably be asked if I wish to attend.

Part of me wanted to pull the switch.

Part of me, which watched my mother-in-law die of cancer, never wants to witness another life being extinguished again.

But I do know this. I do want him to die. I am very much a believer in and eye for an eye. He took away my father, so he should lose his life. I am especially strong-minded about this because the fucker ADMITTED it.

I don't care if he finds God. My father will never the chance to.

I don't care if his mother has no other children. I have no other father.

I don't care if he's a model prisoner. My father had no chance to see me graduate, teach me to drive, go to baseball games, see me married, or to ever see my children, to be in a band with...

This guy, no matter what he has become, has taken all of this away from me. I don't care if he feels bad or guilty or even if he wants to kill himself.

I will feel bad about this for the rest of my god-damned life, okay! Every time something happens in my life, I have to live with the fact that my father is not there to share it with me. And it is all because of him. He pulled the trigger. Not once, but six fucking times, okay! He stood over him, having already shot him three times and put three more bullets in him.

Pre-meditated murder? Death Penalty.

How do you think I feel seeing this guy in the paper, seeing his age, and realizing he is now older than my father was when he killed him?

You have no idea how that eats you up inside.

And my tax dollars are feeding this sick son of a bitch and keeping him safe and sound.

Until the day my tax dollars go to the electric company to juice the twisted fuck. That is a tax bill I will smile to pay.

Because then all debts will have been paid.

Until then, I just wait, much like him.

I can go out and about, travel to another country, procreate, play in my band, write to all of you.

He can sit in a maximum security prison, be let out of his cell once a day for an hour.

But until his court mandated, State of New Jersey Supreme Court ordered execution is carried out, I feel like I am the one in prison, his very being mocking me.

Last week, they had victims of horrible crimes on Oprah. My wife called me in to watch it.

When a woman whose daughter was murdered said she forgave the killer, I started screaming at the screen, it made my blood boil.

But I calmed down and realized, truly, if they decided to forgive him, then that was their decision, much as mine is not to do so. And I have to, by my own criteria, support their belief.

Because they have been there.

I have one alternative that I have come up with. An alternative to the death penalty, which I came up with when Susan Smith admitted to the world she drove her two children into a lake to let them die.

Take anyone who has been convicted of murder and put them in solitary for the rest of their lives. Line the walls with Plexiglass. Behind the Plexiglass, put pictures of the victim alive, dead, and of their family. Make them spend the rest of their lives in that room, with nothing else to look at but those pictures.

But it's inhumane, the bleeding hearted say.

It was pretty fucking inhumane to kill somebody in the first place, wouldn't you say?

Where has America gotten this notion that we must be above everything, that we must turn the other cheek and always take the high road? In countries like Pakistan, where if you are caught stealing, they cut off your hand, there is little crime. Okay, bad example, what are you really gonna steal in Pakistan?

But why does everything have to pander to the "morally high road?"

Someone murders someone and they do seven years? SEVEN FUCKING YEARS with cable TV and books and food and shelter for ending another person's existence? Pre-meditated?

But a guy selling pot can do 20-40 years?

Some folks (read that as politicians) need to get their heads out of their collective asses.

So there it is. My whole rant on why I believe in the death penalty.

Please don't bother telling me I am wrong. You're not gonna change my mind.

Besides, I was raised, by my dear, departed daddy, to be a pacifist. I never believed in the death penalty until this all changed my outlook.

I will leave you with this thought... I wondered aloud to my wife one day, "How do you think John Lennon would have reacted to 9/11?"

"I think he might have found a reason to fight."

Precisely. Your outlook can change in a heartbeat, depending on your experience. I pray you never have to find out your true feeling like I did.

Peace.

Edward S. Potcher

2002-08-12T12:46:00.000-04:00

My father was killed 16 years ago today.

Later I'll be posting a rant I wrote recently about the death penalty.

But for now, I just wanted to acknowledge my dad, Eddie Potcher. Tell you a little good about him...

My dad gave me two of my life's passions, my love of the New York Yankees and the guitar.

My dad was a Yankee fan as a kid in the 50's & 60's. In the mid-60's, when the Yankees were starting to suck majorly, he started rooting for the Mets. He was rooting for them in 1969 when they won the World Series, and still in 1973 when they made it to the World Series again, but lost to the three-peating A's.

Then george Steinbrenner bought the Yankees from CBS. And he started spending money and making intelligent trades for the Yankees. And dad started rooting for them again. By 1976, when the Yankees had made the World Series for the first time in twelve years, dad was rooting for them again.

So was I. I was five for that fall classic. I had rooted (with dad) for the Mets, but switched (again, with dad) to the Yankees.

And with the Yankees I have stayed for over 26 years now. I am a die-hard.

Allow me to print this poem I wrote to my father in 1996, ten years after he had died.

To My Father (The Day After)

It didn't hit me for about an hour
As to what was missing last night
The one person I'd have forsaken my friends for
That's you, dad.
You gave me my love for many things
Music and writing and a good pizza
But none so gripping as this one
And none make me happier.
And for the last few eeks I've been wrapped up
Wanting this so badly for my own desires
That it wasn't until afterwards
That I thought about you.
I'm sorry.
When I did think of you, I pushed it away, quick
I was too busy celebrating
And I didn't want to get melancholy
Thinking about the firt, last & only time you took me
(Coincidentally in the last for celebration).
How did you put up with me,
A hyper seven year old whose love was just blossoming?
And then followed years of talk
And not much action.
And finally, ten years ago, you died.
And a big regret is never going again.
But I feel, sometimes, like you're there with me
And smiling sometimes
And throwing your hands up in disgust
(As I did last winter)
And sometimes I feel your spirit
Inside of me it seems,
And it's like we both are rooting, together.

But I am getting long winded
And maybe you have things to do
But dad if you can hear me up there
THE YANKEES WON IT ALL!

And I wish you were here to enjoy it with me.

Say hi to Babe and Lou and the Mick and Thurman for me.

And maybe, someday,
Come visit me in my dreams
And we'll talk about the Yankees
Just like old times.

I miss you and I love you.

Your son...

That's what I like to think about when I remember my dad. His two great gifts he has given to me, which have shaped my entire life.

My father was not a saint. Far from it. But he left me with some amazing gifts that I treasure everyday, in a sort of tribute to him.

Some son-of-a-bitch may have taken you physically away from me, dad, but every time I watch a game, or listen to a game, or play my guitar, it is from my heart in honor of you. And yeah, I wish like hell you were here to watch and listen and play along with me...

But I know, in someway, you always are.

I miss you dad. Thanks for everything.

A Blast From My C64 Past

2002-08-02T10:20:00.000-04:00

When I was a kid, I guess about 13, the Commodore 64 was all the rage. So, being any normal American kid, I pestered the shit out of my parents and got one for Christmas.

Ahh, good times... Good times...

So anyway, because the thing was slower than shit through a snail, I pretty much stopped using it. I mean, they didn't buy me the disc drive, but the tape player for it... So I had to load everything for like a half an hour to do anything...

So I got impatient and gave it up and went back to my Atari... You know, back when it was just an Atari... Not a 2600, 5200 or 7800... Just a freaking Atari...

Then, in 1985, I moved to Montclair in the summer. In September, I started at Montclair High School and slowly but surely started to make some friends.

There was Scotty Geller, Damon Weber (a drummer who I jammed with a few times), Vinnie Maffucci (the coolest kid in school), Chris Baker and Rob Matsushita.

Rob, it turned out, also owned a C64. But he had the DISC DRIVE... And games!

So we used to hang out and play video games together, when we weren't almost getting arrested with Baker or talking comic books with Baker or singing "My Girl" with... Uh... Baker... Okay, so it was pretty much always Rob, Baker & me...

So, he had this one game that we both were pretty much addicted to, called Alter Ego. He also was undoubtedly cool enough to lend me his disc drive and said game for what should have been a weekend, but I'm sure (knowing what a freking doofus I was) had to have been longer than that...

So, now, fifteen years after last seeing Rob (and making the video I posted here...) we were talking a few weeks back about C64 emulators and trying to find Alter Ego again. Which we were successful with. However, the game ran off of DOS and had problems and was slow as hell. But it was still cool.

Well, I was on Rob's blog the other day and was shooting through his links list. I came across Misty Mills' site. So I check it out. She has a blog on there. Cool!

The very first entry is this: A new, updated, web based version of Alter Ego!

So, all you mother beetches out there, go and check it out, pronto!

Family Can Be Fun

2002-07-29T15:09:00.000-04:00

Okay, maybe I'm just getting sappy here... Maybe it's age mellowing me... But I had a couple of run-ins with family (both my own and my wife's) in the last few days, and I had a really good time!

This past Sunday, we went up to Washingtonville, New York to my wife's Uncle Bob's Surprise 75th Birthday Party.

Now, Washingtonville is a beautiful little town in southern New York state. Sheila's cousins Rue and Alice both live there, as well as her Aunt Carol and Uncle Bob only one town over. The town is known for once having the oldest winery in the country (until a fire several years ago) as well as being the hardest hit hometown as far as loss of civil servant lives at the World Trade Center catastrophe.

I love going up there. It's quiet, it's clean. Lots of farms and fields and trees, my kind of outdoors. (I am SOOO not a beach guy...)

So we all go to Alice's house and wait for Uncle Bob to show up. Now, unbeknownst to him, his son, Robert, who hasn't been up here in about six years, was there with his wife and kids, up from Hotlanta.

It has been so long since he has been up here, I have never met him. And I've been with my wife eight years now.

So this all turned out to be a great party. Everybody sitting around and talking, having a good time. The weather was perfect so most of us congregated to the back deck to drink beer and bullshit. Good food, good drink, good weather and good company. A better Sunday you couldn't ask for.

Now this past Thursday, I had my cousin Emma Jean and her husband Joe and their daughter Tina over. Tina was going to F.I.T. here in New York City, so I would ride the train out with her. Thursday, she went with me to my stop, Maplewood, and I drove up back to my apartment. Her parents showed up right about when Sheila got home from school.

I fired up the grill and made a great shish-kebob dinner with rice and corn-on-the-cob. Then the girls all went inside, joined by another cousin of mine, Michele, who lives a block away. Joe and I sat out on the patio for an hour or two just shooting the breeze.

In general, another good time.

So why do I tell you this? Simple. How many times do you find yourself or someone you know bitching about your family? God knows I do enough of that myself. Well, then what's wrong with simply telling you about a couple of good family experiences I had?

Nothing.

Besides. My blog. My stories.

=o)