Garbage Memo – October 2, 1981 – Dag Nabbit

MUST COLLECT THOUGHTS. Kind of hard when it's forty degrees outside and pissing down cold damn rain and THOSE ASSHOLE BANKERS ARE TORMENTING A POOR HORSE NOT TO MENTION THE WAGON. (no pity for the bankers and the glamor-girl tellers who usually drive around in BLUCAMEROS but today are riding around in an antique buggy pulled by a horse with ICE forming on his/her wings)

Now, last night. Yes. Another one of those magical nights at jb's when energy destroyed boredom for a few hours, despite high admission prices and obnoxious bar-help and a FAMOUS band that no-one really seemed to care for. F-MODELS opened up for the db's with Iggy drunk and Bill running around worrying about this and that but mostly probably that Johnny Phlegm was there and would draw more attention than the band.

“No, Johnny, please don't dance. We must take great care that YOU DON'T SPOIL OUR IMAGE!” But Iggy don't care, he's up there doing OK and we're all having FUN and Klingon Kinkus comes up to Phlegm (who so far has not really been standing out in the crowd, but just slamming a bit with everyone else) and it looks for a minute that Johnny might get booted out, but no, it's only a warning.

In retrospect, the Model's set was the strongest of the night, despite a few drunken clinkers, but fuck-hell, we was getting warmed up for the db's and the BUNNY CONTEST! Hoo Ha! Well, anyway the set was over and this DJ Jim Gibbs (related to Andy, maybe?) gets up and was not as big of a jerk as I was afraid he might be. (I strongly dislike MC's at concerts, and after all, this was just a Thursday night at JB's, db's or no db's.) But this cat was really fun and OK and got the bunny contest off to a good start.

The whole thing was rigged, by the way. We needed more beer, and had agreed with some girls we knew to split the two-pitcher prize with them. Actually, the name for the bunny was their idea and it wasn't bad. See, the bunny had a real deformed face with eyes and nose spread out all over its head, and it looked like it had been in a plane wreck, and they named it BUNNY HOLLY. Real good. So Randy and Brad and me are up there DRUNK as all hell, trying to make the contest look real.

“See, we were going to have you all write your choices on slips of paper, but that's FUCKED, so instead, just yell it out at the top of your lungs, and we'll figure it out.”

So everybody starts yelling, and I actually did hear “Bunny Holly” and Randy jumps down and says, “What's that? Bunny Holly? Bunny Holly? Great.” So we all quickly agreed on this, and went to the bar to collect the prize. The bartender tried to give me a hard time, asked me who had given the OK for the prize. “The QUEEN OF PARIS FRANCE” I told him and collected the pitchers. What a scam. The beer flowed freely that night. All became real plastered and friendly, but I don't remember too much of the db's set. They tell me it was OK, but if they were a local band, they wouldn't have knocked anyone over. It might have been a bad night for them, or maybe they OD'd on Vegetarian Lasagna or something. I don't know, nor do I care. A fun night is a fun night, and it don't matter who's playing or why, it's the fucking PEOPLE and their attitudes that can't be weighed down by any amount of bullshit. You just laugh in the face of Assholeism.