Almost Had a Shootout Tonight

We have had some problems in my neighborhood with drug dealers.

The whole city has had a problem with idiots folks from out of town coming in to buy drugs. Police tell me that heroin seems to be the big one of choice these days. The other day some retards kids came in town from the sticks out of town and tried to make a buy, and instead got jacked robbed and shot. Not speaking ill of the dead, but my thought is if you come into the hood an area you don't know and try to buy smack do something illegal and get fucked up shot, you are getting what you deserve.

I have a no-tolerance policy with drug dealers and buyers in my neighborhood that the police know about. I have chased down a few folks - probably most well-known for chasing one down with a sledgehammer in hand. We've also pulled a shotgun on junkies and gone out after dealers and cunts buyers, alike. One of the local officers told me that when he has busted arrested dealers in our area, he has told he is doing them a favor:  to save them from me.

Well - to be fair - to save them from us. Alice is usually the one holding the shotgun...

So tonight I was driving to the corner drive-thru to pick up some beer (new member of the Beer Drinkers Union - Local 32 oz.) and I saw two cars pulled up next to each other just around the corner. Typical buy/hand-off posture. I came to a stop to look at their license plates when one of the guys got out of one car with a baseball bat in his hand. I took off.

Just to go around the block, and pulled the company logo magnets off of the truck to jump back and and tear around the block to catch them. Had my phone out ready to call the cops, too --

As I came around the corner, I saw one car leaving and followed it, accelerating quickly. Within two blocks I was right up behind it - getting the license plate number to call in. But within moments, they know I'm there and they obviously suspect what I'm doing - pulling over to the side of the road on the busy street.

What choice did I have? I went around them and gunned it hard. But they gave chase.

I blasted right around a corner, tires squealing - then quickly shot left while people jumped up on the curb to get out of my way. I gunned it down the quiet, dark block - then, tires screeching in protest, whipped left around another corner before pulling into the drive-thru.

Not the lane to buy, but the parking lot. Then jumped out as the other car pulled up and strode out to ward the street with my hands out in the typical "What you gonna do?" move --


So you think you pretty gangsta? Well I'm pretty gangsta myself. Cunt.


The guy with the bat steps out yelling, "What up?" To which I can yell back, "What up, esse? What you gonna do?" (O yeah. I actually said it. Verbatim.)

And this guy's like, "What you want?" and I replied "What are you doing on my block?"

To which HE replies, "What are you doing on MY block? I live on that corner." And I'm like, "I live on that block, man."

At this point - hopped up for some of the ultra-violence - I suddenly realize all is not as it seems. I throw my hands up and say, "Hold on. Hold on. Let's take a step back here."

By this point he and I are almost nose to nose at the edge of the street, and the other people in the car have now gotten out. I look over and recognize one of them as one of my neighbors. "Oh, hey," I say, "I know you. What's up?" The first guy looks over at my neighbor and says, "Does he live there?" and my neighbor nods.

"Shoot man," the first guy says, "don't roll up on me like that. I almost shot you."

"Are you kidding?" I reply, "I almost shot YOU!"

So my neighbors and I laughed about nearly shooting each other and talked about the problem with drug dealing in our city - and, apparently, our neighborhood - as well as sharing our adventures & experiences. The guy with the bat and I spoke about our mix-ups with drug dealers.

While the police have asked me to stop physically running them off with sledgehammers, they have apparently asked him to stop smashing buyer's cars. We both say that's what they get. He says he's going to start firing warning shots. I promised back up...

So you dealers and junkies: I have some advice for you --

Don't come up on our block, yo.

ADDENDUM: After all this I went through my drive-thru to pick up my beer, and the guys who work there (who know us pretty well) were like, "what's up? we thought there was going to be a fight." And I told them the whole story. The one guy was like, "Man, I grabbed MY gun cause I thought the shit was going down." That was part of the reason I went there - not just because it was well lit. I knew there was back up. 

A Point of Confusion

So let me get this straight:

If I call a company or overall business on their cheating, lying and stealing - I'm wrong. Standing up for fairness and ethics means I'm asking for hand outs, denying these thieves their legal right to make money (even if it is at my expense), and deserving of scorn from both the media and politicians.

And then if I think someone is being removed from their job because they allowed children to be molested and assaulted basically IN THEIR OFFICES and under their watch - because it happened numerous times and they never blew the whistle - I am wrong, because someone's football career is more important than a child's ruined life for some pervert.

So if the accepted morals I was brought up with are wrong... then obviously there is nothing wrong with lying, cheating or anything else... including murder and rape .

And if that is the case, then it's okay for me to do all those things... so no one is safe: no politician, corrupt ceo (I was going to say corrupt politician too, but that's a total oxymoron), or person on the street.

If holding on to some moral compass is going to be illegal, then it just further confirms I am an Outlaw. Screw your 99% I am still a one-percenter.

Not Looking Any Better

Currently watching Captain America: the First Avenger on DVD (from Netflix).

I am cancelling my Netflix account tonight. Just don't use it enough to make it worthwhile.

Often as I have gotten older, I thought of myself (with some solid looking in the mirror) as a rugged older Sean Connery or - at my worst - maybe an Ernest Hemingway... but with more hair (in both cases). I expressed this out loud once. My girlfriend laughed so hard she almost peed herself.


So, instead, I am trying to own up that I might just look like a fat junkie these days. So you KNOW that's not good. 

"What?" you say. "Fat?! Really...?"

Look - whenever you meet someone new, don't you compare them to someone famous, or recognizable to you? Well, they are doing the same thing to you. Sometimes they TELL you who they're thinking of and comparing you, too. I had high hopes of who I might be being compared with... But lately all I have been hearing is that I look like someone specific:

This guy.

Meat Loaf.

Not the newer, slimmed down Meat Loaf who often plays a movie villain, but the 70s era "Bat Out of Hell" singer. At least his voice was amazing. I cannot say the same for myself.

The other problem is how I have been dressing whenever I am not on stage. Here's some examples:

Yesterday morning I didn't put in my contacts - so I was wearing my Versace glasses...

This bears some explanation. I'm not some damn hipster or anything like that, wearing awful glasses, a horrible beard and all kinds of shyte (What? You think hipsters are cool!? Some time in Silver Lake trying to get a decent drink at a bar should fix that for you.). I have always liked wire-framed glasses, and they look good on me, but they're hard to wear on my scoot. I like the glasses worn by my friend Jonny, who works for Motor Trend Magazine -- but I don't know if I can pull the look off. He sure looks good, though.

On easy street... er, pier.

It just boiled down to: when I needed new glasses, the Versace ones were the only ones in the store that looked good on me. That's what I get for glasses shopping at the Glendale Galleria.

Anyway - so yesterday I go to take the kids to school... I put on my glasses, didn't have time to brush out my hair (luckily still kind of braided from the day before) or brush my teeth, wore some Old Navy jeans and an over-sized light blue  Full Throttle Saloon shirt (both of which I slept in the previous two nights) - my boxers (also slept in) is black with orange bats - and a pair of black Crocs. Yeah, you heard me. I threw on a FreakShow Deluxe sweatshirt over this ensemble.

Winning.

So after dropping them both off I went ahead and finally got a shower, and changed my clothes. This time into:

An over-sized Venice Beach Freakshow t-shirt, an old pair of Aeropostale sweat pants (with a hole where the dog bit me once), red plaid boxers and the Crocs once again. Still wearing my glasses, but this time throwing a skeleton hoodie over the top of everything.

I wore THAT outfit until after taking the kids to school today - where I switched (after yet another shower) to some olive green BDU pants, a grey old school Mickey Mouse t-shirt, and a pair of black utility Sketcher's shoes. Skeleton hoodie and glasses still... not up to putting in my contacts. The cold, wet weather just doesn't call for it.

Even when I am "dressed," I just don't know... Maybe I need that show where those two people go through your wardrobe and help you choose a style. OR just stay in my show stuff all the time!

That's style, baby!

Can't Work On a Plane

Flying on an airplane, with Zookeeper playing on the screen.

I find it impossible to work on airplanes.

For whatever personal reason, I just can’t get comfortable to work. I like to try to – in fact, I am trying to write this blog entry while on a plane right now. It’s not going well. The person in front of me just leaned his/her seat back and knocked the computer pretty badly. Ass.

Anyway. . .

I really need to -

OH! Just had a thought. I think FreakShow Deluxe may set a cup of coffee down on a counter at the beginning of each long run of shows – and then it has to stay there until we leave. We photograph it each day for the entire run. Then we compare them over every show…

AND we need to put Motley Crue’s “Kick-Start My Heart” in the FSD set list.

See, that’s what happens… All this wacky stuff keeps getting in my head and keeping my attention –

So, anyway, my point was that I need to start wearing long sleeves when I travel. Why, might you ask?

Cause from doing the pincushion, stapling and messing with flame, fire and sharp pointy things, I must look like a junkie. That’s what people must think when they look at me. Especially after this week of mayhem – shows every day of the week – lots of sticking myself with all kinds of shyte. It’s like I went rounds in a Mortal Kombat video game – all stuck up, bruised and stuff.

Add that to some greasy hair, an unshaved face and still wearing the clothes I slept in… ug. You know what, and it never occurred to me that this is what I look like since I have never done drugs or anything like that. Or spent much time hanging with junkies.

But I have spent SOME time with a few.

So when I saw some pictures of my raggedy-assed self and noticed that I looked just like the pictures of said junkies… Well.

Covering up a bit will help. And a shower, too –