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Get well, Casz 

Not too long ago, if your sorry-ass band needed a sorry-ass bar to play in front of more sorry-asses guzzling Cream Ale, you needed to look no further than Friends And Players (corner of South Clinton and Goodman). And the only reason your rock 'n' roll racket ever made it in the door in the first place was because of Casz (James Comunale). Casz recently had a serious motorcycle wreck. He has been in a coma since. He needs your prayers and perhaps, from those from F&P's sordid past, a visit. Call Strong Memorial Hospital for details. We're rootin' for you, daddy-o.

            I recently flew with L.A. director/photo-great Mark Miremont to San Francisco to cover the second annual Teas-o-rama burlesque convention for Swank magazine. Feather boas, pasties, bumping, grinding, jazz, about 300 beautiful women, and me. What else can I say?

            Caught new local sensations The Billy Picture by accident when members of The Witnesses failed to appear at the Bug Jar. The Billy Picture kicks ass. Go see 'em.

            The Dave Wakeling's English Beat show brought back Aqua Net memories of a time when radio was still cool and the only date I could get was with Rosie and her five sisters. Gee, I wonder what she's doing now. Anyhow, Wakeling's voice was tremendous and full of soul. It appears he was only able to hire half a band, though. A giant behind a turntable, a synthesizer, and a disc drive rounded out the human element. It was robo-ska. Picture a skankin' Steve Austin.

            I am not at all down with contemporary colloquialisms. I come from an era when crack was a wise remark and bitches and hos were held in slightly higher regard as dames or dolls. Well, just imagine my surprise when I let "It's all good" slip last week. I'm not sure in what context, but I'm pretty disgusted with myself. Oh, and I somehow ended up eating at Denny's twice this week.

            Went and saw Spacetrucker, American Acid, Bee Eater, and The Veins at The Club @ Water Street. What a bitchin' venue. We've got plenty of hard and heavy in this here town. Before the show, I was slingin' drinks at The Auditorium Center for The Vagina Monologues, so I missed the first two acts (my vagina was disappointed). Spacetrucker rocked smooth and melodious, while The Veins were just a beautiful wall of sound and fury.

            "And our beards have all grown longer over night." It was at this show I decided to grow a moustache. I think I'll shave it off though, as no one will kiss me except for my sister's dog and Todd Dentico.


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