Dairy of a Madman » Cowboys From Hell

Current Terror Alert:

terror alert banana

My Many Flavored Cuts:

12924_rob_gonsalves_04

Moon and Indiana Snow

city_in_distance

My fellow sides of beef:

Bitter Old Punk - Slinging the liquor to all who will tip, and even some who won't, because corporate policy demands it.
Boobs, Injuries, and Dr. Pepper - Southern Haha. Oh, like it matters. Look -- boobs!
Cadet Spiff's Deep Space Log - Richard, you ignorant slut. You know how I know you're a nerd?...
Clublife - I sometimes work as a bouncer. I'll bet this guy could kick my ass, too.
Defective Yeti - Seattle's not such a bad place after all. Maybe the rain makes you funny.
Devin Townsend - Go. Listen. Learn to love. Stop asking so many damned questions.
Dooce - The fairy godmother of the blog world.
Falling Sky - It's Jon, my favorite British person. There's real flavor here.
Jason Mulgrew - It never fails: I'm having a bipolar day, and someone bipolar makes me laugh. Fucker.
Monalicious - Boston will never seem cold to me as long as this woman's there.
Pretty Helmet - Elizabeth in the Ham
Something Positive - One of the best cartoons ever. Funny, mean, and touching, usually within a single word.
The Broken English - Highly recommended in the fight against chlamydia. Not for children over three foot eight, or lactating women.
The Sneeze - Home of 'Steve, Don't Eat It!' Enough said.
Wade on Birmingham - Someday, Wade will be under Birmingham. Or over it.
Wade un Birmingham - Non-Birmingham, presumably non-American Idol, non-boring, non-badly written
Waiting with Bated Breath - Not just for kids, Trix tastes great and is less filling.
Warren Ellis - Writer of stuff. Crotchety. Smokes a lot, so we like him.

TODAY'S DEEP THOUGHT:

Why do people in ship mutinies always ask for 'better treatment'? I'd ask for a pinball machine, because with all that rocking back and forth you'd probably be able to get a lot of free games.

CURRENTLY QUEUED

Irreversible

Moonlighting: Seasons 1 & 2: Disc 1

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Cowboys From Hell

7 June 2006 | This is Idiocy

The truest joy of being a rock star is not playing the music you love for money, or punishing your liver with a zealous vengeance (and being encouraged to do so), or even wearing a cheap cowboy hat onstage while you cover Ozzy Osbourne and Metallica and make jokes about Michael Hutchence’s affinity for leather belts.

No, the absolute peak of your life as a performing musician comes when you take a live instrument (amp cranked to a painful volume that is further enhanced with a serious distortion pedal) pound out the final notes of whatever song you happen to be playing (note: must be bombastic and drawn out; the more retarded and METAL the better — in this case, “For Whom the Bell Tolls”by Metallica, done up all hellbilly style), remove said instrument from your body, and procede to use your instrument to put a divot in the concrete floor of the club you’re playing.

Hendrix and Townsend had it right. Smashing your guitar, while somewhat hazardous to anyone standing in front of you, is brilliant fun.

If only I had been allowed to set things on fire, the night would have been complete.

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