The cable guy was supposed to show up on Friday, but didn’t. I’ve had enough of that company.

I have cable now, though. Don’t ask questions and no one will get hurt.

On Saturday night, I had some friends over to my place to hang (or “rock”) out. The girls there kept telling me I was “cuddly, like a teddy bear” and trying to hug me. I have been hearing this since high school. Otherwise known as “15 years”, or “too damn long”. The award for being the 10,000th girl to tell me that was a sarcastic roll of the eyes. I know, they could have said I was creepy looking and reminded them of their uncle who is in jail, or they could have told me that looking at me made them want to hit me, like my friend Skank. Yes, it could have been worse. Being told by a woman that you remind them of a teddy bear is a dubious honor at best; most girls don’t have sex with teddy bears, and the ones that do usually have daddy issues and very confused teddy bears. In fact, I would imagine that the teddy bear gets laid the least of any animal in the stuffed animal kingdom. He’s probably the funny one that all of the stuffed animal girls want to be friends with while the stuffed lion is out hunting for stuffed gazelles like a real man.

So I guess being compared to a teddy bear is a compliment, but it falls along the lines of being told you have the largest penis in Japan, or are the best smelling person at a Phish concert.

Which brings me to another bummer. Phish is no longer a band. I’m not what you would consider a “Phish Phan”, or a “Phucking Philthy hippie”, but I do enjoy knowing that there are successful bands out there that write complex music that requires skill to play, and Phish was one of them. In fact, the name of this diary was taken from one of the bandmembers’ side projects. A little band called Pork Tornado. You can tell me you hate Phish, but you can’t tell me Phish sucks, because they don’t (you can, however, tell me that Pork Tornado sucks, and I will believe you). I get tired of listening to them “grooving” the same song for nine hours, but they can play. Those sorts of things are probably better when you do drugs, so I wouldn’t know.

Side note: I just finished a cup of coffee and threw my mug in the garbage for some reason. It’s 5:09 a.m., and I am already at work, so I’ll call it today’s first mulligan.

Anyhow, you know how you always see bands covering music like Blink 182 and 3 doors down and stroke 9 and all of the injection-molded recording company turds they can manufacture? See, the secret seems to lie not in writing good music or skillfully playing an instrument, but simply in having a number in the name of your band. Who would have thought it was that easy? The reason amateur bands can cover that music is because that music is about as complex and inspired as a stale broccoli fart. My grandmother could be taught to play most of that stuff in a week, and she’s dead.

My favorite band in Atlanta, The Ballyhoo Orchestra is one of those rare bands that can write and perform actual good music and make it look easy. They have even been known to cover a Phish tune and make the crowd go nuts. The good part about it is that the audience isn’t a bunch of stoners asking for some of your water. They play at bars around town and the occasional music fest, and seeing them become more popular is sort of bittersweet as the crowds grow. Doesn’t matter, they deserve success for trying something original and being good at it. If you live in the Atlanta area, you should come out and see them. Find me there and I’ll buy you a drink. They are playing on Saturday, June 19 at the Taco Mac in Dunwoody (heh. I said “Dun”), and Wednesday, June 23 at the Brandy House on Roswell Road. If it helps you cope with the fact that they are actually good, you can call them Ballyhoo Orchestra 47, or replace all of the o’s with zeros. Whatever it takes.

Still don’t believe me? Well, through the miracle of the internet, you can listen to their music ABSOLUTELY FREE OF CHARGE- Simply click here and your ears will thank you.

So even though my car is broken, my computer is shot, my back hurts, and a bunch of other stuff is bad right now, there is a ray of hope. As if to offset the talent that was lost in the music industry by the breakup of Phish, Creed broke up last Friday. That day will henceforth be known as “The Greatest Day in Recorded History”. I’m sure another band equally as lame will take their place, but I think the breakup happened one of two ways:

Scenario 1- The Passion of the Stapp.

Creed guy who thinks he is Jesus- “hey guys, okay, gather round and hold hands, time for a band meeting.”

Guitarist- “Come on, Scott, I was just learning a new chord. That’ll make three.”

Creed guy who thinks he is Jesus- “YOU WILL REFER TO ME AS JESUS OR EDDIE VEDDER, OR BE DESTROYED BY MY GLORIOUS IMAGE REFLECTED BY THE OIL IN MY HAIR!”

Guitarist- “Sorry sco—err…Jesus Vedder…”

Creed guy who thinks he is Jesus- “Okay, guys, as you know, we rocked for Christ in a mainstream sort of way until I took his place, and now I think it is time for me to move on to a solo career. Think of it as ‘The Passion of the Stapp’”.

Drummer- “That’s AWESOME. You are so smart and good looking, Jesus. Much better looking and funnier than the old Jesus. Let’s go and start writing. I just learned a new fill. That makes two things I can do with drumsticks now.”

Creed guy who thinks he is Jesus- “Listen, drummer. I’m going solo, maybe on a spoken word tour to youth ministries around the world. It is the only way I can get my message out there and maybe get laid…for Christ.”

Guitarist- “Yeah, drummer, the only reason you are here is because you kiss Scott’s ass all the time.”

*a blinding light shoots from Scott’s flared nostrils as he strikes a Christ pose and the guitarist turns inside out, causing him considerable pain*

Creed guy who thinks he is Jesus- “ANYBODY ELSE WANT SOME STAPP? LET’S GET THE NAME RIGHT!”

Guitarist- “gaahhhbbbllllluuuurp…sppkkkeeeee.”

*guitarist dies of injuries suffered as a result of being turned inside out*

Drummer- “b-but…I love you, Jesus.”

Creed guy who thinks he is Jesus- “I know you do. I do too. Everyone does. But it is time for me to go out and write shitty music by myself now. I must go. It is foretold in the bible, I’m pretty sure. In Paraplegics 9:12 or something.”

*drummer stabs self in eye with drumstick*

Creed guy who thinks he is Jesus- “Looks like now you can do three things with drumsticks. See you later.”

Scenario 2- Reality rears its head.

Creed guy who thinks he is Jesus- “hey guys, okay, gather round and hold hands, time for a band meeting.”

Drummer- “What’s up? Do you need another bottled water to pour over your sexy body? Need me to take off my shirt for any reason?”

Creed guy who thinks he is Jesus- “No thanks, drummer. This is serious. I have been doing some praying about this, and some research because I didn’t quite believe what God told me. It turns out we suck. We, as a band, suck out loud. There are websites and publications and whole industries devoted entirely to us sucking. We’re like the mullet of rock.”

Drummer- “come on…they’re just jealous of our rockitude.”

Creed guy who thinks he is Jesus- “I am afraid not, drummer. Other bands that don’t actually suck don’t have websites making fun of them. Have you ever seen a ‘Jane’s Addiction Sucks’ tee shirt? No. Do you think people call Maynard from Tool ‘Gaynard’? No. He could kill you by thinking about you. That is how completely badass he is. I think his parents were a wolverine and a machine gun. Maybe there’s something to this whole ‘talent’ thing.”

Drummer- *singing* “w-with arms-s wide op-pen…under the star light…(sob) I’ll s-show you everything…” (sob)

Creed guy who thinks he is Jesus- “Don’t. Just stop. That song sucks. It sucked when we wrote it. The only way it could suck with more authority is if we added a line about ‘riding the wings of an eagle’ to it.”

Drummer- “I need a hug. Where’s the guitarist?”

Creed guy who thinks he is Jesus- “I killed him in the first scenario, dumbass.”

*drummer stabs other eye with drumstick*

What will the future hold? I’m hoping for a Jonestown-style mass suicide of despondent Creed fans, but I’m sure a Creed 56 is already in the works (because adding a number to their name will magically make them less horrible). The economic backlash from the breakup of Phish should have no net effect, as sales of soap are projected to increase enough to offset the drop in sales of sandals and stupid hemp necklaces. Sell your stocks in patchouli, and buy Irish Spring.

So, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that Creed was to music what the Nazis were to the Jews. That is a worn out comparison and a bit harsh even for Creed. Let’s just say that Creed is as relevant to music as teddy bears are to sex.

Did you hear that?

That was the sound of the loop closing.

See you at the Ballyhoo show.

Trackback URI |