Here are the new Punk-O-Rama Tour road journals:
11-14-2002: Dear Foes,
Today I am writing y'all from our home on wheels. Some folks call it an RV or Recreational Vehicle. Think about the sheer joy and freedom you experience while roaming our great country aimlessly, stopping at Rip Griffin Truck Stops for supplies, snacks and butt loads of worthless crap. You know the impulse buy type of stuff. For instance Coon Skin Hats!!! That's right your very own Coon Skin Cap can be purchased for a reasonable price, but that is just the beginning. Most of the Truck stops I have had the pleasure of experiencing also sell a wide selection of Native American trinkets, suck as beads, blankets and who can live anther day without a officially licensed Indian tomahawk. Oh yea, and in Florida I have seen at more than one fueling depot, large clam shells with small statues of Jesus standing at attention with that light shining behind him. You know the light that you supposedly see when you are on the operating table and about to die, then don't. Yea, that light, but my point is that you would have to suffer from acute Alzheimer's disease or just be a complete jackass to want to travel the country in an RV. I mean it's if you absolutely have to like we do, but to do travel like a prisoner being transferred to the maximum-security facility upstate seems quite retarded to me. At this point I do have a confession to make, I have purchased not one, buy two of those Indian tomahawks I have mentioned earlier. And you know what I think the make a great gift and or learning tool for a young inquisitive lad yearning to learn about the Wild Wild West. I write about things that bug me. Like driving across the country really fucking sucks if you ask me. I mean hell it would be great if for instance on one side of the road were the Breath taking views of the Pacific or Atlantic Oceans. Or the picturesque tree lined highways or the Sequoia. I love trees, but not as much as that nut job that called herself Butterfly. Remember her, a few years ago she climbed up a giant sequoia and would come down because of the logging industry or I think it might have been to save everyone's favorite owl. You know "The Spotted one" Well I heard she is down from her perch so, but if she wasn't I would be the first to toss a rock or two in her general direction. It would be like went my friend Wayne and I went to the Sequoia's with his family. We were young, like 8th grade or something and had absolutely no interest in camping. At that point in our lives all we wanted to do was skateboard, but you can't skate on the dirt roads of the campground, so we would go hunting. We were young had no weapons suck as cross bows or rifles, so being young and resourceful we used rocks to stalk and kill our prey. The varmints we were hunting in those days were squirrels. They never really threatened us or any of the other campers, but we felt it was our duty because we hear a rumor that they carry the plague. To make a long story short we never killed a single squirrel and I blame that on my Little League coach. So there.
But back to the Punk O Rama Tour... We had a great show at The House of Blues in enchanting Las Vegas Nevada. Over 1000 people turned out to celebrate the tour and the welcome or Nerf Herder to the line up. I got really wasted (as I always do in Vegas) and sang like a street bum who didn't have to beg for money to get his booze. I got it for free from the club. Thank you HOB for a great night and thanks to all the kids I met after the show up by the Tee Shirt Booth. Oh yea this one dude at the show kept calling me the oldest line in the book "A Sell Out" So naturally I asked him," Then why the fuck are you here?" And he replied with," Well there was nothing else to do tonight and I still love your live show!!" You know that is the problem with punkers today, no integrity, period!! I rest my case, dumb sell out people. I often wonder what all these "Sell out haters would be doing if they truly boycotted all punk shows that they deemed to be "Sell Outs" Not that I really care, but whatever. Blah, Blah, Blah.
Ok Off to Mesa AZ. This show was pretty damn cool! Attendance you ask? I'll just say it was over 1350 and that's a pretty good-sized concert eh. One of the bands on the Punk O Rama thing is located in the Mesa area and they are called Authority Zero. The Zero is a great band and an even better bunch of guys. They have this song on the radio in different parts of the country called "One More Minute" Its kind of a mellow grooving number that the kids seem to love. So, hats off to them. Az. is one of my favorite places to play. The turnouts are always great and the energy is non-stop. The show was at a place called Club Rio. I think it is like a dance place normally, but they transformed this house of modern disco into a Kingdom of Punk, wow that sounded really stupid, but I'm too lazy to go back and change it. That is how I write. I never go back and re-read my stuff I just write whatever comes to mind and that is that...end of story.
We hope to see all you Southern Californian's Dec. 29th at The House of Blues in Anaheim and Dec. 14 at the new Soma in San Diego. See you there wankers.
11-04-2002: Alright everybody, I know all of you have been checking hourly for 1208's updated tour journal so now you get it!! I haven't written since Kelowna, Canada and we've been through a hell of a lot. The city of Edmonton was a total blast, even though I don't remember from Guttermouth's set on. Scott and I were drinking Jim Beam like it was water before their set and now I know why I shouldn't drink it. In addition to being blacked out drunk, I proceeded to take the stage with Guttermouth, knocking into their gear and finally I was escorted off the stage. Luckily, everyone was cool with my belligerence and I haven't indulged in Jim Beam since. Calgary was probably one of the more memorable cities in Canada. The city itself is beautiful and really clean. For these shows, Riddlin' Kids and Face to Face were on the bill so there was double the people at least The kids were really into it and the girls were hot there too. Winnipeg was a pretty interesting show. As with most of the dates in Canada, the kids responded great to all of the bands, and as they were going off while Guttermouth was playing, some asshole pulled the fire alarm. The fire department temporarily shut down the show and made everybody vacate the building. Of course, Parks (our bass player) and I hid out backstage, drinking beer and wincing at the fire alarm bell.
After those dates, we headed back to the good old U.S., where nobody likes to go to shows. Come on you guys, get your asses out there and support the scene. There were too many dates on this tour so far that indicate that the U.S. has no love for punk bands. I remember going to watch Guttermouth back in the day and having the coolest time ever. Well guess what you disillusioned party punkers, they still kick ass and so do we. So get out there and buy your fuckin tickets cause your missing out on some good shit. So there.
Anyways, we trudged on through Freeport, Detroit, Cleveland, and Pittsburgh, making the best of the tiny but really cool crowds and got up to Canada again. Ottawa was a really fun show. I met a fine ass chick and Manny(our drummer) stayed after our show and continued drinking heavily throughout the night. Clint from Guttermouth and the guys from Authority Zero bought our poor drummer drinks all night and during the course of the night, he fell down a flight of stairs smashing the side of his face and blackening his eye. It was pretty comical seeing him with a chipmunk face the next day but he wasn't laughing.
Quebec kicked ass. But Montreal was unreal. The show was sold out, like 1500 people and we heard that someone wanted to do an interview with us. Neshawn and I walked across the street from the venue and BOOM!! we're on the set of Musique Plus for a TV interview. It was for a show called 1,2,3 Punk and it was a really cool experience to get that kind of exposure. Then it was back to the good old USA.
All of the dates on the East Coast weren't quite up to punk par, but instead of complaining, I'd rather thank all of the people who came to the shows, although there weren't many of you. New York was fantastic; such a rad city Manny and Parks were stoked because their chicks flew out for a couple shows. We also got to see one of our old friends, a girl named Ruby who lives in New York. It was really cool seeing our friends and we all got to get drunk together every night.
Well, we're on our way to play a Halloween show in Albuquerque, New Mexico and I can already feel the hangover. See you all in a city near you----Alex & 1208
10-28-2002: Dear Readers of this piece of crap, Hello, My name is Mark, but today it might as well be mud pie the magician. At this point you must be asking yourself what do I mean by mud pie the magician. I will be happy to explain, for I am what is called in Montreal and Quebec City a great accommodator and a great animator. I'm not quite sure what those two phrases mean in loosely translated French/English, but I took them both as complements. After 2.5 to 3 weeks on the road you develop a heightened tolerance for liquor and other substances. Ingesting mass quantities of liquor on a daily basis is fine for some parts of the human anatomy, but quite lousy for others, such as the obvious the Liver and secondly the Rectum. Its like this you start the trip eating fast food at least twice a day washing all that unnecessary fat and excess calories down with beer or Jim Beam or Capt. Morgan. The Beer up hear in Canada is really nice, just like the people who server it. Yes folks Canadians as a rule are much friendlier than our fellow Americans. I mean hey, I have lived on the same street for just over ten years now and I still don't know all my neighbors. I'm not saying that every Canadian buddies up with the man, women or child next door or any combination of the three I just mentioned, but I have a hunch that then a more social bunch. But back to my butt for a moment. After the second week of tour you develop a fairly constant leak from your rear. Not a drip, drip drip like a 4 cup hotel coffee maker, but more like ...hmmhow do I explain this without going into to much unnecessary detail? Ok, so I'll just give it to you from my perspective. I know that everybody in this RV/home on wheels is suffering from the same ailment; it's just that some of us are more vocal about these things than others. Just like the majority of the girls I know say they don't break wind, fluff or even fart. We all know it's bullshit and we all know it is also natural. And of coarse farting can be quite amusing, as we all know. So I get up everyday (on the road) at about 12:00 noon. I mean hey we get in very late after the shows each night. Ok, so I get up and me being the efficient working machine that I am have already prepared the coffee pot the night prior so all I have to do is flip the switch and "Poof" I've got 4 cups at my disposal before I even get out of the shower. As some of you will remember from previous tour stories, I have mentioned the faster than normal laxative effect that coffee has on me. So, once I hit the half cup point I'm off the rest area faster than the worlds fastest land animal "The Cheetah" chasing it's first prey of the day. And just like the Cheetah likes to hunt early in the day, I like to crap around the same time, or simply before it gets to hot. So once I have done my business, tidied up around the ol bum, zip up the fly and flush, it is just a few short hours or sometimes even minutes before I have this discomforting feeling of moisture build up in my behind. It is truly alarming to me because as some of you may know I have no séance of smell. When one has lost the sense that tells him if he offends either with his breath, armpits or behind you become overly concerned and sensitive that what is seeping from your butt may stink to high heaven, and when trying to hold conversations with strangers and friends like I do on a daily basis on the road it becomes a major concern. So now that you know a little bit more about me, has this ever happened to you? I say try it. Go on a 3-week fast food beer bender and see how your body holds up under these extreme conditions. The thing is, that I enter the rest room more than 6 times a day just to perform a check wipe. Check Wipe: a precautionary swabbing of the bum to make ensure cleanliness and lack of residue. Well, that's my definition anyhow. But that is just one of the many perils of the life style that I have chosen. Oh I can hear you all now, your life is so tough. No, no I know how good I have it. I get to see the world and sing songs about my complete nonsense. Ty is bugging me as I write you. I don't like to be bothered while I write. I try to stay focused and Ty just wants to make sure I am not writing anything about him. As my Grandmother Ruth Kline "God rest her soul" used to say, and I quote "you are being a nuisance" and yes Mr. William Tyler Smith is being just that. Funny, I have never mentioned my grandparents in any of my writings in the past. I wonder why? They all were very inspirational to me and they had great names. On my Dads side we had Melvin and Bertha Adkins. And on my moms side we had Herman and Ruth Kline. Like I said all very inspirational and I do think about them often. Who would of though that I had this sensitive side to me? Well I am human ya know. Ok, back to what I was originally talking about, my butt. It saddens me to be so concerned with such a small problem. Well, small to you perhaps, but to a man who performs in front of an average of 1000 people a night this mere anthill is a mountain. I have always said they can put a man on the moon, but they can't make permanent bright blue hair dye and the can't come up with a cure for a leaky back side. Even the best OTC (over the counter) drugs plug the hole. Maybe I should consult family of beavers to help me. They seem to be natures dam builders. Sure the ones they make are nothing compared to, say the 8th wonder of the world "The Hoover Dam" but hey, I'm a guy who likes nature as much as the next. As a matter of fact, the other day we saw thousands and thousands of fucking salmon swimming up stream to spawn. It was really quite a site. I don't mean that in the sense that, Yea I get to watch fish fuck. It was more like I was Leonard Nimoi and everyone else around me was watching re-runs of "In Search Of" and this time I was the guy in the no. So my butt leaks, I miss my grandparents and Ty is still being a nuisance. What else can I write about? Yes, Yes I know, The last 2 shows!!!!That's it I am brilliant after all. Well, at least I am to myself, but I just feel smart because I just drank two Molson Exports and had a homemade Bean and Cheese Burrito. I make and eat at least one a day. Dave (the nice man who is selling tee shirts for us) Stocked up on Low Fat Rosarita Refried Beans, tortillas, sharp cheddar cheese and plenty of Tapatio Salsa Picante. Doug, our new friend and sound guy brought one of those George Forman Grills and what you do is heat up the beans in the microwave then add some cheese and salsa. Then the most important part...the rolling of you future meal. Like I said the rolling is crucial, it is a must for the heating process as well as the eating process. There is nothing worse in life the eating a poorly rolled burrito. Have you ever had the unfortunate experience of driving through say, Taco Bell, Del Taco or even some of the odd ball mid west Mexican fast food joints like Taco Time of Taco John's. Let me be the first to tell you that the last two places I mentioned suck big balls. So anyhow, At this point you have all realized the importance of a good roll in reference to a burrito. So after you have practiced and perfected the art of the roll, you the plop it on the pre heated George Forman Grill (I believe it pre-heats to about 180 degrees F) and leave it on for approximately 4 to 5 min. Mr. Forman toasts the burrito in question inside and out to absolute perfection. So far I have been dubbed the master of the grill as far as burritos go anyhow, but whatever. We all have our nitch in life, some of us have found it and some of us have not. Well, not yet anyway. I feel as though I have been blessed. I am now on my 3rd beer and getting tired. I really sat down to write about the last 2 Canadian shows. One thing I will say is that the people of Quebec and Montreal treated us very nicely. We had a completely sold out show in Montreal with a wild ass crowd and a nearly sold out show in Quebec City. I truly love the Eastern part of Canada!!!I can't say enough about that, so I might as well shut the fuck up. Ok, see ya.
9-19-2002: Today is a day like no other day. #1 it is Clint Weinrick's Birthday!!! And as special tribute to my friend, bedmate (I share a bed with him on tour) X-band-mate, current band-mate, X-roommate, lover of tasteless jokes and all around good guy I will attempt to do the Mark Adkins version of this is Clint's life. Well, his life fer as long as I have known him. From what I understand Clint grew was borned and raised in "The Land Of Gracious Living" Also known as Yorba Linda, CA. He is the first son of Mr. Eric and Sandy Weinrick. Our birthday boy has two younger siblings the youngest is a strapping young lad they call Bert. I know that is not his real name, but I can't remember his proper given name right now. The middle child of the Weinrick family is his sister Beth. Beth is the allusive one whom I have never had the privilege of meeting. If I am not mistaken every suburban home has a dog, buy in this case the Weinrick's raised the bar to unbelievable new heights and have not just one, but two K-9 amigos, Natasha and Rockie. Both of whom I'm sure have lovely dispositions and guard the house to the best of their ability as well as befriend the Postman or women. I'm sure that Eric and Sandy have thrown numerous parties for all their children, complete with Piñata's, Pin the Tail on the Burro, the Three legged Race, while washing down the days activities with plenty of ice cream cake and/or ice cream. I'm sure that the Weinrick,s are happy that they were borned in Southern California instead of Nor-Cal as those people call it because I'm sure that eating ice cream is not PC enough for those Nor-Cal children's birthday parties. Imagine having someone else's slightly over-weight, unshaven underarm toting mother serving sherbert instead of the more traditional ice cream and cake. Uh Oh, did I say cake...can you imagine eating cake on your birthday. I heard they put eggs and butter in that crap. Well fuck you all you bad mothers who force your super gay food agendas on your poor poor unsuspecting children. You mothers are the ones who are responsible for making the current generation of kids nothing but a bunch of Pussies. Weareat Lake Shasta, time fore a swim. I promise not to harm any bottom feeding Catfish during my swim. Well, we could not get down to the lake from the place we parked at so Cowboy Curt opted to run through the sprinklers. You know it sure was fun, but something that just pooped into my mind well, not just pooped, but every time we travel through this beautiful tree lined forest known as Whiskeytown Shasta-Trinity National Recreational Area, I think of that nut job who parked herself in a tree for god knows how long to save a tree or something like that. If my memory serves me right this tree crusader went by the name of Butterfly. Hmm, was that name given to her by her parents or was that the name see gravitated toward after reading all that garbage literature printed on recycled papered in indie style coffee house that distance themselves from the corporate giant know as Starbucks. Even though Starbucks has a drug testing policy for it's employees, so you as you know coffee is not that hard to make, but when you are all jacked up 24/7 on weed, most people just can't function or make a quality cup-o --joe. Let me see some doped out hippie make me a 2% low fat-light whip mocha chino at 106 degrees. And is that why most so-called indie style coffee house don't stay in beeswax for long. Just so you know I have not forgotten about Clint's Birthday and will return to the celebration very soon. Tree hugging is a dandy thing to do if you are a complete lunatic or a drug addict. On occasion I turn on the TV news. I am a CNN fan myself, why I don't know. I think it is because we have bootleg satellite TV and my attention span is far to short to learn even half of the 900 plus channels. I do know where CNN is though, so my point is that now as well as then there were and are far more important things to worry about. I mean I have a hunch that the globe would continue spinning properly on it's axis with out that Butterfly person or Butterflies in general. I wonder where she is today. Let me guess, strapped to a gurney in the local looney bin or bent over the bench in her personal rubber room with branches and twigs from the very tree she was trying to salvage crammed neatly up her A-Hole. And as far as my friend Clint's birthday goes...I hope you have a real nice day. Don't tell him, but I have decided to pick up a copy of "Best In Show" on DVD for his gift. I sure hope Wal-Mart has a gift-wrapping department.
Your friend Mark Adkins wrote this
Sat. 19 2002: Today I was instructed by our hard working tour manager/babysitter, for some of us. Not me of course, cuz I am capable of waking up at a prescribed time hosing myself off then even dressing myself in a timely manor. It amazes me how slow some folks can be. Not just like the people in our band who need babysitters like Ty for instance. He, and I know I have written about this before, but why is it the smallest guy in the band takes far longer than anyone else to groom in the morning? Why? Why? Why? I think that is a Discharge song or album or something, but whatever. I remember being in Europe and when you travel in the Old World tis far different than in the States or Australia or Japan or Mexico for that matter. Oh yea, we are playing in San Felipe Mexico for spring break in like March or April. I'll keep you all posted on that one. I think it sounds like the Guttermouth party of the decade. But back to my story of sluggish behavior. Before I do that I have so much trouble writing, well not writing but keeping my mind on one thought or topic. I guess I am pointing out the obvious, but whatever, now you know. So in Europe you travel in a bus, complete with individual bunks and nice little storage places for each person's junk, a little sink to wash your hands and brush your teeth, but no shower. And while traveling through Europe you do not stop for the night in those cozy quaint hotels you see in travel magazines and at the AAA when you are registering your car. So as far as bathing goes you pray that the club you are performing in has a shower. Two would be nice, but they usually have just one and when on the road with more than one band hot water and cleanliness are worth more than DOA's War On 45 on vinyl. Now I'm back to Ty Smith and his problem or should I say problems with being slow and a clean freak. I won't go into the details of the second problem I mentioned, but let's just all agree that it is very serious and terminal. Mr. Smith is a good friend of mine and some of you might find it strange that he is the one member of the band that I identify with more than any other member. But, the fact remains that he take way to long in the shower and when there are 12 other people who need one even if it is just every other day, you would think that he would show just a tiny bit of consideration for the others in the party. But, no He would do this. Guttermouth would pull into a city and we had The Line with us and thank god they were cool or they would have murdered him just as we wanted to on several occasions. We would go up and sound check (you know just to make sure that all the gear is working properly) then he would race to the one cleansing station in the club and spend nearly 30 min. and using every last drop of hot water. He didn't give a shit if you had not bathed in days just as long as His Royal Highness (TY) was squeaky clean. I may sound like the rest of us are being crybabies, but the fact is-we are far from a crusty band and definitely don't want to be. I'll give you this example just so you can relate. Try running 5 or 6 miles or for you ladies do an hour-long aerobics class and not bath. Then do it again the next day and the next. Fact, you start to offend and not just you traveling mates, but the nice people you meet at the shows and all that. I hope this makes you understand where I am coming from and if you still don't get it than please quit reading this and go back to you fascinating life working at Subway. Now Please remember that I just mentioned Subway because I think that I can tie this whole story together in another sentence or two. Well to make matters worse right after we would play little Ty would run like Bruce Jenner winning the decathlon at one of the Olympic Games. I'm not to good with dates, but I do remember that Dwight Stone was the victor in the high jump in the 72 Games. I have a knack for remembering worthless trivia. I'll give you some examples if I can think of some, but latter. Ok, now that Ty is on his second shower of the day while the rest of us smell like a 3-week-old sock he would repeat the after sound check bathing process. Yes 30 more min. and all the hot water. Do you think that it bothered him, I ask? No, not a Goddamn bit. When it comes to being clean it a me me me me me me world for Ty. I don't know if you are aware of this, but Ty is a so. Cal. Transplant. He came from the Mid West. Not that there is anything wrong with that part of the world, cuz there aint. It is just a little slower and not just slower in the séance that I guess a lot of people take long showers, like my pal Ty, but I will now compare Ty Smiths bathing habits to the employees at every single fast food establishment in the entire mid-west. You have all heard the California is the epitemy of life in the fast lane. I think the Eagles did that song wow! And it is a much faster life style and once you get used to it becomes a part of you. I hate people who are not on time or have no concept of doing things in a timely manor. Most of you probably think that I am a slacker or whatever your perception of me is, not that I really give two hunks of poo, but I just thought that I would throw that in. Ok so today we were filling up the gas tank in the RV we are traveling across the Mid-west in. There was a Blimpie sandwich place at the filling station so I figured hey I'd have a bite to eat while we fill up the 85-gallon tank, clean the windows and check the oil. Clint and I walk in the Blimpie and the lady behind the counter was just finishing up pouring a cup of soup which seems like a fairly remedial task to me, but was nice and gave this women the benefit of the doubt that maybe she was handicapped of something, but no, she definitely was not. I was amazed at how slow a human being could move while being pair to do a job. I no about being in the work force. I was and still am to some extent in the Fire Sprinkler Business. I try to work at least one or two days a month just to keep my contacts if I ever choose to go back into it full. Ok, so noticing how slow this person was Clint and I decided to share one sandwich instead of confusing the slug behind the condiments with two. My friends tell me to relax and enjoy this unique lifestyle. The fact is I can't, I am not programmed to run my life in first gear alone. I know I sound like a pompous ass, but fuck you are being paid to work so fucking work. Maybe, just maybe that's why California is the worlds 6th largest economy in the world. I would like to make a plea to all fast food restaurant owners...Please oh please send your employees, future or current to California for some formal training. It would work trust me. Some of these people are so damn slow that I have been forced to resort to some very drastic measures. I have gone to the supermarket and purchased refried beans, cheese and tortillas to roll my own burritos in a fraction of the time that it take to walk in one of those places I have been describing. No offence to Ty (Ilove ya man), but tell your people to pick up the pace. Oh yea the Punk-O-Rama tour is going great.
Sunday 9-22-2002: The time is 2:23pm. I and the other members of Guttermouth, 1208, Gob and Authority Zero...Collectively known as The 2002 Epitaph Punk O Rama Tour are driving along the Bend River up in the great state of Oregon. I really have tons and tons of crap to talk about, but only have like 7 or 800 words to do it in, so here goes nothing. Most of you know that we recently released our latest CD called Gusto. Yes I am shamelessly plugging myself and I should be tooting my own horn because loads of the new songs are going over extremely well as we play live for the first time. It my sound crazy, the New Wave Classic "My Town" is a solid crowd pleasing smash. I mean really how could a song the gay drive a crowd of 1500 plus punkers (well by today's standards anyway) go into an 80's driven, Fred Schneider, B-52's frenzy. I'm totally freaking out on this one and It seems like some of the people at the shows are not coming to beat the living shit out of each other, I mean so are of coarse, but loads (not butt loads) of kids are coming to do the old punk dance "The Pogo" You might remember that stuff, just be-bopping around with your closest mates releasing just as much energy as is you were doing to status-quo slam stuff. Don't get me wrong is still and always will believe in the dance (if you want to call it that) formed in good old Huntington Beach, Ca. called slamming or moshing or what ever club insurance agents are calling it these days to be one of the finest steps going. Ok, enough about fucking dancing and shit like that. Fuck I'm getting kind of cranky right now because A. we ate at Jack In The Box today and to me that is glorified pet chow and typing in a moving RV is a whole other royal pain in the ass, especially when your fingers are covered in Monster Taco grease and the f-ing holding tank in our home on wheels is bone dry. The real point I wanted to get across was to inform you all about a band we played with last night. They were a last minute addition to the bill and were sincerely the best band I have seen in many moons. They were called "Los John el Wei" . Shit, but before I talk about that I'm supposed to be thanking everyone who participated on the video we shot on the 8th on Sept. I will get back to Los John el Wei in a moment, buy first things first. I hate having to suck up to people and the truth is I don't normally do it. I pretty can pretty much find some good in all people except maybe the assholes who work at Wal-Mart in the Mid-West or something, so I guess I just don't want you to thing that I am sucking up. And you know what this column might sound a wee bit jacked up and scatter brained, but that is only because it is. I can't fucking concentrate on the road. All I want to do is eat, sleep tell tasteless toilet humor jokes and play this $89.00 guitar I picked up at that living hell of a store Guitar Center. Not that it is a bad store; I mean hey, they have everything under the musical sun under one roof. It's just the A-holes who hang out there more than just shopping. Seriously, Almost every time I go in there I get a demo of some dudes band who wants to do shows with us. And hey I think that's cool and all and, yes I listen to all of them!!! No kidding, but It's just like sitting on you ass in front of the computer posting messages on band message boards for hours a day. It's a colossal waste of time. Why not go out and play shows in back yards like we did or pass out demos at gigs in your area. Punk is starting get like Tiffany and Debbie Gibson were in the 80's, playing shows at malls to get attention. I don't have much myself, but please people show yourselves some self-respect. I don't know what this has to do with anything at all, but hey it's my column and I'll do as I please. Back to the video thing. The good people at Volcom, namely Mark Gardner, Wooly and shit I'm so bad with names it makes me sick, oh yea Remy, gave us their skate park warehouse for two full days. Above and beyond the call of duty, but the call us family so we call them familia. Fair is fair I guess. But we all had one hell of a day there at Volcom. Some of you might remember out last shoot for the song She's Got The Look, which got tons of airplay in Europe, Australia and New Zealand. Not much here in the states, but hey not a bad run anyhow. Fuck my brain is going in circles right now. Tee gave me 2 Vicoden and A Valium about an hour ago so as you can imagine I'm a bit spun. We had some repeat characters plus, some Guttermouth web site contest winners and a stellar camion from none other than Mr. Greg Hetson of Bad Religion/Circle Jerks fame. The repeats were the ultra hot girls from the dance scenes of the last shoot. Hailey and Marinda are two of the coolest hardest working girls I have ever had the pleasure to work with. Hailey is now a professional model and doing quite well for herself and Marrinda just kills it with amazing attitude and unique look. We all thank you both for your 14 hours of service and dedication. The song we did the video for was Scholarship in Punk. It was all about a BS prom set up with Gutermouth as the band, Hailey as the prom Queen and Greg Hetson as the authoritve principal type. He also joins us on stage and rocks Scott's VB guitar. Our old dear friend and original drummer Time Baulch was on hand as well to act as a chaperone to make sure that no hands were going below the waist during the slow dance parts. Omar Hessian and Andy McDowell showed up ripped the 12-foot half pipe and did a quick prom shot with their dates. In true Guttermouth style we of coarse had many kegs on hand to keep everyone from getting restless on such a long afternoon. I have not seen the final cut yet, but as soon as it is complete I'm sure it will be up on the Guttermouth as well as the Epitaph web sites. Oh yea our friend Andy all the Epitaph E-cards directed and his trusty companion Nigel was the Art Director. None of this would have been possible without them. I know I'm way over my limit on words and I'm about to fall face first onto the computer keys, thanks to Ty and his mixture of pills, so fuck it I'm not even going to re-read this piece. If it reads like a 4 year old wrote this...well it is.