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Absolutely smashing concerto Saturday past in the gorgeous NJ shore town of
Keansburg. 'pon arrival, we noticed a dress code stating "No gang colors,
pants must be worn at waistline height". Hmmmm. The Wallybloodcripangels
usually dress in black, but always bring a few magenta smocks along to
thwart such a happenstance. Part 2 however, was troubling....many of us
haven't seen our waist fer years.

On a side note; tis amusing to ponder the fathomlessly idiotic speeches of
politicos belching for "education reform" when referring to an overachieving
generation of nonfunctional illiterates so accomplished they cant figure out
their own pants. Absolutely hopeless, but apparently preferable to pretend
otherwise. "Fashion victims", you respond? Aint we all.

Enter the club and whoa!.....coool place! Lotsa parking, big room, state of
the art PA, nice people and the toilet reporter was gushing in the stalls!

Song 2 of set 1 finds our squarbling protagonist leaping from the stage and
gathering a type 2 ankle sprain. Damn. Left foot's turning blue and still
got 32 songs to go. Much beer was imbibed and twas truly a pleasure to
actually hear the vocals for a change (tho some may disagree).

College freshman memories were rekindled during intermission as the
irrepressible Dan Defonza screamed convincingly into the unconscious
soundman's face whilst his effervescent bride, the former Lady Ramona
Murkley, gazed on supportingly thru a doe-eyed mist of unlubricated luv
often observed in Melissa Gilbert films.

Before summoning the coroner, the venue's owner stumbled by mentioning, "Oh
yeah, he swallowed abuncha pills." No quincying required, as St. Defonza
brought the dead back to life and the show proceeded gimpily. Avoiding all
DUI checkpoints whilst speeding back ta Brooklyn (Custard Wally does *not*
condone DUI, but frequently does so nevertheless), the goys were winding
down and having a quick post-show chat during the 3:30 AM unloading.

Fortuna hadn't finished wif us yet, howevah: A staggering drunk approached
yer humble narrators, seeking to bum a cigarette. When politely informed
that nonsmokers we, he cracked wise a bit, referring to our mothers'
southwestern portals. A succinct decking by Onan the roadie and subsequent
f.o.b. delivery of several old school smacks to the effete young ponce
proceeded beatingly. As the bi-partisan sprinted his escape, closely
followed by his very own shoes hurled speedingly towards shampooless bean,
we couldn't help but think: The perfect end to a fine evening of tasteful
music, we are truly blessed to have such a life.

Maybe we shoulda killed him, but why bother? The ciggies'll get him soon
enuff while providing handsome dividends to fellow Altria shareholders.

We digress.....summoned by The Don for an early Monday show.

DON PEDRO'S.....MONDAY, OCTOBER 20th....8:30 - 9:00ish.

What more can be said about Don Pedro's? We luv this place and will be
blasting thru a few new and obscure tunes.

As an afterfart, the abovementioned collegiate chum, Dan Defonza, is a
brilliant guitarist and gifted singer/songwriter in his own petard! You can
check him out at:


Toilet Report: Cunsistent. Always quite clean and fit for an Ann Coulter
coffeetinkle, or Sarah Palin's moosepatty boom-booms.


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