...and how it can happen
so in retrospect, the bastard's christmas went off without a hitch. we all piled out to staten island and it was traffic free for the eve and we went our separate ways on the day. all in all, i need to hit the gym and that's what the bastard has learned about the holidays over and over again, "you ate too much, go to the gym stupid". however, it didn't start off so good for me. on the 23rd the bastard had a black cloud over himself and it came home with him and began to taunt him while he was buying crap at target. one asks oneself, how do you have a nervous breakdown while buying pants? well it comes in all shapes and sizes in this world and i was feeling some pre christmas ogita. so i decided to take matters into my own hands and called the mofo up.
you see, the mofo comes up from purgatory for two reasons. the second is to collect his christmas loot from the rents. the first is to document the yearly christmas event which is the no redeeming social value christmas show on film. i've been friends with most of this band since it's inception and for the last 16 years dean thrilla and co. have been pushing the envelope of bad taste and entertainment for the new york hardcore scene. it's been a long time since i've seen these chuckleheads in action and i believe age has made them more messed up than the time they came out in surgical costumes or the time dean came out in a tutu. anyway, i call the mofo and ask him if they've gone on yet and he says, i haven't left the house yet. he doesn't go on until midnight. so i hitch a ride and we go in.
it's funny when you you go to one of these shows because it's like going to any genre show. when the faithful come out in droves, it looks like a museum of that genre in motion. there were skinheads that dressed like it was 1981 all over again. m1 flight jackets and doc marten boots were everywhere and the effin tattoos (but more on that later). but the other funny bit is seeing folks from back in the days and having them glad to see you. that's a change of pace. i haven't been to cbgb in a real long time and i could swear that it got cleaner since the last time i was there and the roaches were teh size of horses. oh well, i guess nothing ever stays gold ponyboy. anyway, the mfo is usually the guy to take the photos and then he takes the film down to fortress purgatorio and develops it himself but, he needs to work props for this show. so the bastard gets drafted into photo duty. i take my place on this rickety tower and mayhem ensues.
now as we can see here. thrilla is wearing a dress. but actually it's his wife's favorite dress. and he was worried she'd be pissed about it so he did apologize mid show when one of the straps got torn up. oh, and beer got spilled on it. alot of beer.
no redeeming has no shortage of mascots at their shows. last time i went, our friend zsolt would sit in a lawn chair in his underwear and sing backgrounds but he went at ghetto claus and distributed cigarettes to the crowd. this guy here is the hardcore chicken. it seems that the san diego padres former mascot has taken a bit of a tumble. earlier in the evening i was introduced to mack, who would be wearing the suit that night as he IS the hardcore chicken. but the bastard was introduced to him as, "this is mack, the living legend". and apparently this is why.
all in all, the black cloud had passed in a flurry of concern over whether i was going to get knocked off of that rickety platform i was taking pictures on or not. it was a good show. it's nice to run into old friends and it ain't bad to get props from folks on the stage for showing up. apparently it ain't everyday that i show up in places. as the evening was winding down, soemone approached zsolt to praise his ghetto claus act and he came with a gigantic burrito that we immediately had to have. so the bastard must give a big shout out to the only pushcart out on the street at 2:30 in the morning. thanks to "gifts from atlantis"(seriously, that's the name of the pushcart) for the biggest burrito i ever had for breakfast.
ho
ho
ho
—the bastard
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