drinkdrankdrunk: "Service To The School" by The Midnight Rider

i’m going to my curriculum vitae for the next entry, and i fear it won’t be nearly as exciting as my road trip to illinois with the women of color . . . i believe i already described the inner workings of the shady state finish strong committee in an earlier paragraph--the committee was comprised of faculty/staff/students and was designed to raise campus morale after the announcement that the school would be closing . . . the chair of the committee was the chief human resources douche, and the lesbian nun was always arguing that we needed to better control the flow of free whipped cream to the students on national donut day . . . i spent the majority of my time hitting on the 21-year-old, virginal soccer goalie, but the other buffers managed to cockblock me at every turn . . . i only have one story from my time on the institutional effectiveness committee, but it’s a good one . . . what was the committee’s function?--i really don’t know . . . the committee itself was formed during a time when shady state was in the process of switching regional accreditors and every faculty member was obliged to be on as many committees as possible . . . i volunteered for this particular committee because a wise man told me that we wouldn’t do anything (and he was correct) . . . the committee was comprised of five online instructors from across the united states and me . . . i did, however, know the chair because she had worked her way up the ladder from local peon to vice president of marketing . . . how does a 23-year-old, business school graduate from western illinois become vice president of a major company in less than 3 years?--she wore a miniskirt to every meeting and encouraged the men in the audience to look for the wet spot . . . i don’t mean to imply that josey wasn’t a kool chick because she was--she could drink like a fish, and i smoked doobies with her on several occasions . . . she was hot-as-hell, and she used it to her advantage, and i spent the majority of my time at the meetings fantasizing about what she was wearing in kalifornia . . . did i mention that everyone else on the committee was female and that i usually called in from under the covers of my bed at home?--yeah, dude, i think you know where this is going . . . anyway, what was this committee’s function?--i think we were supposed to proofread reports from other committees and then make comments . . . i never proofread anything and hardly ever spoke other than to announce at the beginning of every meeting that it was “cold in iowa, and i wished i were in kalifornia” . . . at one particular meeting, some old crone had been rambling on for 7-8 minutes and stopped to ask josey a question--and there was no reply for over a minute and the old crone kept repeating: “josey? . . . josey? . . . are you there, josey?” . . . finally, after another 3-4 minutes, josey got on the line and apologized to the group for “having to go to the bathroom”--and i was immediately rock hard picturing josey with her panties around her ankles sitting on the toilet in kalifornia . . . i covered the speaker of the phone and just spunked all over myself as the other ladies on the committee giggled about josey having been in the bathroom . . . MY SPOO SHOT UP 10-12 INCHES INTO THE AIR AND TO THIS DAY, IT WAS THE MOST PRODUCTIVE THAT I’VE EVER BEEN AT A MEETING . . . i fear my other committee work is gonna be anti-climactic compared to what i accomplished during my time on the institutional effectiveness committee, but i might as well give you a rundown of the rest:  my experience with the communication committee was horrible, albeit boring . . . once again i was on a committee with 5 female, online instructors that i had never met . . . this time, however, i was already a lame duck (shady state had announced the campus closure in june, and my term began in july), and i was even more proud to do absolutely nothing . . . the committee’s main function was to write a corporate newsletter which almost always explained the function of the faculty senate . . . the nasty hags on the committee all still had their jobs and therefore did battle every month for who got the credit for doing the fluff piece on the asshole-of-the-month senator . . . they never asked me to do anything, but that didn’t stop some nasty/old cunt from oklahoma sarcastically exclaiming “way to be proactive” or “good job” at me every so often . . . my term expired early (when i lost my job in june 2016), and the fucking cunts sent out a corporate e-mail thanking me for my “exceptional service to the shady state community”--yeah, dude, and they say i’m the dumbass . . . i was on three english search committees . . . on the first, we hired this smoking-hot mfa from michigan who turned out to be batshit crazy . . . she would storm out of meetings, have screaming matches with the vice president, and quit in the middle of the semester right after signing her contract for the following year--more on her later . . . the second search committee wasn’t really a competition because we pushed through swede hansen’s ringer after the hot chick quit in may--we still got paid though . . . adrian adonis (the pretty boy who fucked his student) was the third new hire of my tenure . . . he wasn’t our first choice because at the end of his interview, he asked if he could “take students to the movies”, and dean hansen didn’t like that . . . i personally voted for another hot chick, but she was smart enough to decline our offer whereas adrian adonis immediately accepted . . . the handbook revision committee only met one time, but it was a nice resume-filler . . . at the time, swede hansen was the dean’s assistant and helped review the liberal arts faculty’s yearly assessments . . . the swede went over my responses and informed me that i wasn’t on the handbook revision committee--i reminded him that the committee only met once and that we sat across the table from each other, but he still didn’t believe me (and that was the moment when i came to realize that the swede was a piece-of-shit) . . . lawyers, police officers, and professional people from all over the community came to shady state in the winter of 2008 hoping to become adjunct faculty members . . . business was booming, and they all obviously wanted a piece of the corporate pie/payout . . . as part of the adjunct faculty interview committee, i would come in on the weekends and ask predetermined interview questions and then report back with my findings . . . when i told my dad what my duties entailed, he thought i was bullshitting him . . . i directed a play at the local middle school in spring 2009 as part of the shady state afterschool program--and while that might sound like fun, little kids don’t respect/listen to me at all (nor do i want them to) . . . the kids were always wild, and some housefrau was always in the corner watching everything i said/did . . . the play sucked too--it was a total failure, but i still got a plaque from the local chamber of commerce for community participation . . . the last item on my vita says that i was an “organizer/sponsor of the shady state computers-for-kids program” in the fall of 2006 (back-in-the-day before every employee fart was documented for assessment) . . . and while there certainly was a computers-for-kids program, it was part of my friend nootie’s job responsibilities at a school district in virginia . . . sometimes when i call him at work, i’ll tell his secretary that i’m “chris from the iowa computers-for-kids program”

The Midnight Rider prefers to remain mysterious.  You could visit his website, but he won't say where it is.  You could read his books, but he won't say what they are.  You could email him, but I'm pretty sure spam@gofuckyourself.gov is not a real email address.  In a world where everyone is repping their Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, sex tapes, line of clothing, new microbrew, virus panic vaccine status, and overall brand, I find that refreshing.  I am happy to have The Rider ride on drinkdrankdrunk.

New Single!: Run Of The Mill Punk Rock Song

wredfright · Run Of The Mill Punk Rock Song

I went and saw a friend of mine's band play this summer.  It was a punk show, and some touring bands were on the bill.  You could pick out whom they were because they were all wearing facemasks.  It's pretty obvious the masks don't work to prevent transmission of respiratory viruses at this point, no matter what the "experts" say, by just cross-referencing case rates and mask mandates, but at this point the people wearing them are doing some sort of hygiene theater/religious ritual, so logic need not apply.  The oddest thing of seeing punk rockers believe the government when it was clear the government was full of shit was that the punk rockers all took off the masks to perform.  So apparently, the punk rockers not only believe the government's nonsense, but they believe their own nonsense as well, thinking that maybe the virus will be polite and not infect them when they're playing as opposed to when they're off-stage walking around at the show.  Even if you believed masks worked, why would you take the mask off in the same social setting?  And, if you don't believe masks work, why would you wear one when no one was making you wear one?

It was baffling.  When I was younger, punk rockers, despite the occasional lunkhead among them, tended to be brighter types who critically thought and called authority figures on their jive.  Today's punk rockers appear to be pretty dumb and just parrot the views of authority figures if it's the right sort of authority figure.  If that's the state of the subculture, then maybe it's time for punks to go the way of the zoot-suiters and beatniks.

Musically, it's the usual guitar, bass as keyboard, vocals, and drums, with singing through a harmonica being the odd musical aspect this time.  It was fun making this song, but I miss the old days when punk rock was cool.  Oh, well, there's always the Pistol tv show . . .  

Lyrics are below:

The punk band brought their own muzzles.
That they think they're still rebellious is quite a puzzle.
When the subculture is a half-century old, maybe it's time for a new one of your own.
Instead, today's punks are like yesterday's hippies, and all they do is just bitch and moan.
They're always lecturing me about how I'm going to give them a disease
and questioning those who question authority and anyone who just does as they please.
Roll over G.G. Allin and tell The Ramones the news.
What passes for punk today is a real snooze.

It's a run of the mill punk rock song.
But we're still going to sing along.

Here's your colour by numbers songbook.
Here's some anarchist Mad Libs for lyrics--take a look.
Don't forget the hair dye and Democratic Party talking points.
You'll need something to yap about when you're bored drinking forties and smoking joints.
And make sure you don't miss the reunion tour.
There's only one original member left, but who's keeping score?
And remember to buy the limited edition debut album reissue on colored vinyl.
Maybe you can use it to fill in the space you used to have your spine in.

Trust fund kids impersonate the American working class,
and the oldies radio station now plays The Clash.
Teens wear t-shirts of bands that broke up before their parents were born,
and this hand-me-down pop culture gets ever more torn and worn.
I guess an upper middle-class white person has to look strange to survive in the inner city,
but, you know, underneath the nose ring and tattoos, you're almost pretty.
I think if you were in a real riot, girl, you wouldn't think it was so much fun.
The new wave is old now; it can barely walk, much less run.

Jello Biafra turned down money from Levi's, but he'll shill for Big Pharma for free.
At least Johnny Rotten still pisses the right people off by loving Trump, I see.
Hey, let's support senior citizens who want to act like they're 17.
Try to do something original, and you'll get treated like the punks did in the 1970s.
And even Black Flag couldn't afford the cost of gas today.
So let's not get in the van.  We'll watch a punk documentary on Netflix, at home we stay.
I don't know what the government's done since Vietnam and Watergate to become so trusted,
but punks supporting a shitty status quo just makes me disgusted.

Thanks to The Tinnitist for his support of "Political Party B.Y.O.B."!

For more Wred Fright music, listen to the Yeast? 7"!

New Recording!: "Political Party B.Y.O.B."

wredfright · Political Party B.Y.O.B.

This is one of the last songs I wrote before I stopped writing songs for a few years.  It's just about the silliness of politics.  It probably works better as a Woody Guthrie one guy with an acoustic guitar song, but I had fun adding drums and otherwise fleshing out this version.  It was in the set until recently, but finally got the boot because there were too many new songs I liked playing better.  Like any good politician though, I could see it worm its way back into office (i.e., the set) especially in election season.

Thanks to The Tinnitist for including "AM Radio Song" on a recent playlist!

If you want to hear more music, then listen to the first Yeast? 7", which has been patiently waiting for a spin on your turntable since 1994!

New Recording!: "AM Radio Song"

wredfright · AM Radio Song

This is another old GoGoBots song that is still fun to play.  I worked the overnight shift at my local AM radio station years ago and developed a fondness for the strange mix of oldies and mellow new songs that the typical AM radio station used to play before the AM dial was devoured by talk radio.  I thought it would be fun to write my own version of an AM radio song, poppy in the music but with atypical, almost subversive lyrics.  I wrote about the Marxist concept of the surplus value, wherein a worker does not get the full value that her or his labor created because of course capitalism needs its share in order to get a return on capital.  The Marxists don't really know how to create a better system, but they certainly understand how capitalism works.  In short, no matter how much money you make at work, your boss or employer is always making more money from you and where does that money come from?  From not giving you the entire share of the wealth you've created.  You can call it exploitation, but it can also be considered the price of making money.  In the song, the singer is alienated but still needs to pay the bills, and the songs on the AM radio soothe away the pains of the workday.  For the rerecording, I added some keyboard, keyboard drums, and extra vocals to the usual vocals, guitar, bass as keyboard, and drums.

Thanks to The Tinnitist for including "Alger Hisses" on a recent playlist!

If you want to hear more music, then listen to the first Yeast? 7", which has been patiently waiting for a spin on your turntable since 1994!

New Recording!: "Alger Hisses"

wredfright · Alger Hisses

This is another old GoGoBots tune.  I wrote it after buying Alger Hiss's autobiography at one of those discount bookstores that used to pop up in failing malls and strip malls before the mall or strip mall failed completely.  Hiss was an American bureaucrat who was accused of spying for The Soviet Union during the McCarthy Red Scare of the 1950s.  Hiss maintained his innocence, even when he was sent to prison.  The whole affair is filled with bizarre details such as hiding film rolls in a pumpkin.  It provided the fodder for this song.  Musically, it's the usual guitar, keyboard as bass, drums, vocals, and some fun hissing in the background.

Thanks to The Tinnitist for including "OH, Jeff (4 May 1970)" on a recent playlist!

 If you want to hear more music, then listen to the first Yeast? 7", which has been patiently waiting for a spin on your turntable since 1994!      

New Recording!: "OH, Jeff (4 May 1970)"

wredfright · OH, Jeff (4 May 1970)

"OH, Jeff (4 May 1970)" is an old GoGoBots tune.   I wrote it after reading and researching about the shootings at Kent State University in 1970.  One of the murdered college students was Jeff Miller, who was a rock drummer.   He'd be a senior citizen today if the Ohio National Guard hadn't murdered him.  Feeling some kinship to Miller, I wrote this song about him.  For this rerecording, I used the actual audio of the gunfire and played with some digital effects. The choruses sound kind of spooky as a result. Otherwise, it's the usual vocals, guitar, keyboard as bass, and drums. 

If you want to hear more music, then listen to the first Yeast? 7", which has been patiently waiting for a spin on your turntable since 1994!     

New Recording!: "A Kiss, A Cheek"

wredfright · A Kiss, A Cheek

"A Kiss, A Cheek" is an old solo tune.  It first appeared on the Let's Get Killed vinyl compilation album, which was sort of the high water mark of the Kent, Ohio USA underground scene of the turn of the century, right before The Black Keys figured out how to make that approach to music palatable to classic rock radio and made a bunch of money doing so.  For this rerecording, I filled out the song with more sound than just vocals and guitar, though arguably it's the type of song that sounds best just with guitar and vocals.  Nevertheless, here's some whistling, keyboard as bass, accordion (or maybe just the keyboard doing a drone--I don't remember), and lots of drums.  Lyrically, the song is the same as ever, with the speaker (er, singer) being puzzled that people would have an all-powerful god, but then still think that god needed some help from them in the form of a sacrifice or something.  If your imaginary friend is all-powerful, then take a break, dude (and those atheists still wearing facemasks that do nothing to prevent the spread of viruses shouldn't feel much superior--you also believe in nonsense; science is a journey, not a destination).

A shoutout to The Tinnitist for including "Mary Black Mary Black Mary Black" on a recent playlist.  Thanks again!

If you want to hear more music, then listen to the first Yeast? 7", which has been patiently waiting for a spin on your turntable since 1994!    

drinkdrankdrunk: "Share Your Sparkle" by The Midnight Rider

it is january 2016, and i haven’t written anything since august 2015 . . . i realize that i ended the last paragraph by bragging about how easy my job is, but it’s kinda hard to enjoy your final year when one could be fired for failing to fill out a form or by not attending a corporate webinar--i guess that’s corporate america though . . . during the course of the fall semester, cashpoint laid off all non-essential personnel including the administrative assistants, financial aid staff, admissions staff, librarian, and postmistress . . . their modus operandi usually entailed a tuesday dinner followed by friday layoffs at 5pm pst (and this is iowa) . . . lil hitler (my boss’s secretary) and the sexy grandma (my friend) went in the last round, but lil hitler was so lost that she came into work for another 3 weeks before human resources finally had to tell her not to come in anymore . . . there were rumors of a faculty layoff in november (and i got in trouble for gossiping), but it would seem as if the final 30 professors will make it through until the end (along with roughly 280 students--down 700 from just three years ago) . . . you could say that the final 280 are ripe for the plucking, but that’s another story for another time (like this summer when i’ll have no job and no prospects other than going home and changing my parents’ diapers) . . . anyway, i took copious notes on our faculty workshop this week, so i might as well break it down for you . . . the vice president for academic affairs opened the meeting by announcing that cashpoint had been sold to a real estate company for 1.5 million . . . the vpaa then confessed that he had no idea who the mystery owners were or why the grounds were sold for roughly 18.5 million less than they were worth . . . he said that our offices would need to be cleaned out by the last day of may and that we should “focus on taking care of ourselves and each other” . . . i was itching to ask where i should dump my garbage after cashpoint folded, but i assumed that that would hurt some old lady’s feelings and i held my tongue . . . the public relations officer was next, and he announced that the mission of the finish strong committee (of which i am a member) was to “SHARE OUR SPARKLE until the end”--and his voice was cracking, and there were audible sighs from the crowd . . . the human resources officer was next, and she had some good news for us----the computer lady had gotten a job at a chiropractic office in davenport (good riddance for an ugly tattletale), and the sexy service learning chick had taken a job with a furniture company (she is sexy, but happily-married and a born-again christian, so who gives a shit) . . . for the next 45 minutes, the (cocky) athletic director argued with the born-again christian members of the biology department over make-up testing procedures for lame-duck athletes (whose sole purpose for being here in the spring is to play their respective sports one more season) . . . before the lunch break, the pr director asked me if i would organize a bags/cornhole tournament for the spring--of course i said “yes,” but i was thinking: “what a fine use for my phd” . . . after lunch, the career services lady gave a presentation entitled “backpacks to briefcases”--the suits in kalifornia want us to attend resume workshops in the spring where the faculty will be taught “dinner etiquette” and receive “fashion tutorials” along with other horseshit they think will help us get another job in academia--it was one part tedious and two parts embarrassing . . . after the career services lady (who is dumb-as-a-rock) announced that there would also be “mental health sessions,” lil’ frank burns chimed in that a “session of sexual harassment could be beneficial as well” . . . the faculty forum was next, and we spent roughly 30 minutes on who would replace the toner in the copy machines since all the administrative assistants had been fired--someone-in-the-back suggested that we throw them out the windows in may, but hot lips houlihan reminded the room that the copiers were now the property of the new owners . . . a member of the faculty welfare committee announced that the online adjuncts hated us because they were sure that the campus faculty were in line to steal their jobs . . . he also told a funny story about teaching online and sending his scheduler (the online official that assigns online instructors classes) a christmas card every year even though he hated her guts . . . over the past few months, cashpoint has offered the campus faculty the opportunity to train to teach online--the implication is that we would be hired on as full-time with benefits, but conventional wisdom is that for every one huckster who got a good teaching gig, there would be 100 others working for slave wages . . . roughly 75% of the professors in my college volunteered, but i obviously want to get the fuck out of here . . . the afternoon workshop (a.l.i.c.e training to prevent school shootings) was perhaps the most ridiculous of all, especially since the biggest criminal in the room was the head of campus security--lebrick is a sawed-off, little-prick-of-an-ex-soldier who was on his way to being kicked out of the marine corp for embezzling money from toys-for-tots (for buying, among other things, a purebred hunting dog) before he resigned his commission . . . he was also up-on-charges of sexual harassment for asking the women that he was supposed to be interviewing out on dates . . . like i don’t mind some of the older security guards (hell, we even have “mash” code names to track the deans), but listening to lebrick rattle off the names of school shooters made me realize what a fanboy-waste he truly was (and always remember that the lesson of reno 911 is that cops/criminals are essentially white trash) . . . anyway, after a slideshow of rent-a-cop pinups like adam lanza and seung-hui cho, lebrick broke the faculty into three groups, and we were sent to our respective rooms and told to prepare for an active shooter . . . my group consisted of 5 female professors and 2 male vietnam vets/professors and when the “lockdown” command came over the walkie-talkie, the two vets immediately removed their belts and lashed the ends to a table and to the front door . . . and then we waited for over an hour--there were bangs-at-the-door and cries-for-help, but the vietnam vets refused to let any of us move . . . i took out my iphone and tried to videotape the absurdity for posterity (or facebook), but there was ultimately nothing to videotape (except the granny panties of a 54-year-old ed professor) . . . i finally got on the walkie-talkie and announced that “sister butch was the active shooter and that everyone should remain calm” . . . the faculty was supposed to return to the classroom for a debriefing after the final “all clear” was announced, but i waited until orly (the near-sighted-security-guard-who-walks-with-a-limp) turned his back and snuck out through a girls’ dorm . . . in the old days, i would have tried to gank a pair of panties on my way out, but in the winter of my 49th year, i really just wanted to go home and sleep until spring

The Midnight Rider prefers to remain mysterious.  You could visit his website, but he won't say where it is.  You could read his books, but he won't say what they are.  You could email him, but I'm pretty sure spam@gofuckyourself.gov is not a real email address.  In a world where everyone is repping their Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, sex tapes, line of clothing, new microbrew, virus panic vaccine status, and overall brand, I find that refreshing.  I am happy to have The Rider ride on drinkdrankdrunk.