Listen To This Now!!!!

Wednesday, June 24, 2020

Return of Born Evil

Metro is out for the foreseeable future, possibly forever. Do I shoulder the blog with my shitty writing and 8th grade grammar? Fill it with inane reviews of wrestling and movies? Devolve into unmitigated and unsubstantiated vitriol towards those undeserving? Stock tips? We will see.

Until then, here is some newness:
I started a tumblr some time ago (does anyone use tumblr anymore besides Grimes and Molly Soda?). It's very simple and to the point. Behold, Cool Spins

In other news, Jonathan Weier of local forgotten band The Dead Bodies, has a Hamtramck-centered Facebook Zoom Call In Live Radio Show just about every night at 7pm. It's humorous and entertaining and grows zanier with each and every episode. Here is a link

How is that for overwhelming positivity? What do you think? Will Covid spike again through the midwest? Will the country helter skelter into a race war? Was Charles Manson a prophet?


*Hey all Metro here. It is generally against blog policy to hop on a post, but since I'm going away for a bit and because I was writing a post, it would be poetic to end it with a collab with an original Honor Roll member. Plus its only fitting I check out with one last jab at the Metro Times. This came across the (closed) National Affairs Desk. Metro Times is eliminating comments. Here is the poorly worded link from the failed Editor in Chief:  Derp Derp Pussies

The Metro Times has long established itself as the worst journalistic entity in town, even worse than The Freep. So no more comments despite me, and others, ridiculing them for over a decade. Their reasoning is weak/slight and ironic because after they stated their case they went into a boring, predictable political diatribe of a select few's opinions that kaboshes their entire reasoning. So your opinion is no longer wanted, but theirs are a-okay. Editor in Chief (lol) Lee Devito should have been replaced years ago and the fact they are bleeding money only proves that. The fact that position has seen so much turnover through the years just shows that the head honchos don't even care anymore. So that's it, one final love letter to the Metro Times.


Monday, June 15, 2020

The Closing of the National Affairs Desk

Hey all Metro here. On Saturday I went to dine in at Ruth Chris Steakhouse and ended up running up a $138 tab, well worth it. I even shaved the beard and went for the iconic "Fall of Bryan Metro" LP look (with a touch of The Fiend).

 The location I chose was chosen because it was close and also it was the same location that my dad went to when he retired. The symbolism doesn't end there. I made the decision to go there for a reason. Everything I do is calculated. And with that I am announcing my retirement from writing original content for the Lavender Blog.

There are a surplus of reasons why I am hanging it up but the main ones are there is nothing to write about anymore along with some possible serious health issues. Of course I could write about Black Lives Matter, zzzzzzzz, or the Covid Virus again, zzzzzzzz, but these topics are everywhere on tv, though by less skilled journalists, so its pointless. Also, there is nothing to write about locally because its all Livestream today. Well, aside from Electric Six who is doing a Livestream from Hamtramck (hmmm wonder where that with be, cough, Smalls), and actually charging for it. The greed with them is actually really sad. Scumbags. I digress...

I want to take this time to thank all the Constant Readers for tuning in over these 12 fun years. Whether you appreciated it for its over the top satire and insults, or hated it but couldn't look away, I really mean it. I still have two pieces in the can, but they were written last month and should see the light. One is a Concert For Covid and the other a Concert for Leos Coney, but both need to be heavily edited. So keep your eyes open for those, but for now I say goodbye, it has been fun, and your band sucks.

From the Iceman Goeth,
Bryan Robby Metro

Thursday, May 14, 2020

Drunks and Delinquents in SE Michigan

Hey you savages, Metro here with a quick update. It has been a whirlwind of a week, but the fact I'm still writing should tell you everything you need to know (for the haters). That's all I can say about that. Its no secret that I am a professional drinker and by proxy have around $100 in returns due to the no-return policy. While I would love to CashMe that loot, the JCM have decided to set up a pick-up with all monies going to the Detroit Animal Care and Control for use to build a new kitty room. If any other alcoholics are out there, there are other organizations also doing a pick-up including the boy scouts if you like em young. The pick up is scheduled for this evening and I have the baseball bat and sidearm ready in case the driver is a raving, sneezing lunatic.

As I said, this update will be brief but I am excited to hop on the remote "concert" bandwagon which will be filmed this weekend and posted next week. This will be the first JCM performance since our retirement in 2018. Another $100 of empties should be involved. As always, we won't take ourselves too seriously and definitely don't want to make a mockery of current events, just want to entertain, make some laughs, and never be boring. We're still here, and we're coming.

From the Iceman Commeth
Bryan Metro

Tuesday, May 5, 2020

A Love Letter (Apology)

Hey all Metro here. I would like to take some time to apologize. I apologize to anyone I may have offended or caused stress. That was never my intention. I just wanted to run an entertaining blog. This is a blanket apology to anyone I gave a headache to, and I can revise it if it warrants specific people. I've probably offended pretty much everyone, and for that I am sorry.

Also, its Spring so I have taken down most of the previous posts for summer editing, dead links, ill-advised posts, etc. I've kept the recent, mostly fiction, posts up, along with the Pin Ups album, and will work hard to produce new content as the editing process continues.

Once again, I apologize to all if something I said was mean. Hope everybody stays safe, be well, eat lots of steak. I'll see you soon.

As I remain, Selah
Robert Staroscik/Bryan Metro

Monday, May 4, 2020

Plunged Into Poverty, Rammed Through the Looking Glass

Its May and the weirdness has been extended. Last week, Governor Funbags extended the stay at home rules until the end of May. And is being sued for it. Now believe me, I can sympathize with being sued for something one believes in. In the last post I spoke about the Paradox of the stay at home mandate, that being the concept being excessive, yet necessary. I don't think my opinion (those are still legal right?) has changed. Indeed, the cases and deaths have tapered off, the high water mark may have been reached, despite the news/media stressing about over 100 deaths the past 24 hours along with some raging psychotic rubbing his nose on a store employee and a security guard shot and killed because his wife was told to wear a mask. Guess the demographics there on that last one. Ho ho ho, just kidding. Fear and Ratings in Wayne County. I could grab a photographer and get you 100 non-corona deaths in Detroit by 3 o'clock. That is the "excessive" point of view. The "necessary" flip side is that if we ease off too early there is the risk of a spike in cases. That damn Paradox. If I had to choose, I fall into the "just extend it" party, by only by a hair, because of the safety of others. I don't claim to be invulnerable, but the one thing I insist on is that I can't be croaked except when I give the word (great fucking line; no jinxies; spoiler alert). I can't wait until I can get a good steak, or see a bad Star Wars movie in a theater, or fly in an airplane with a bunch of total assholes. I miss that. But I also don't want to worry about the health of my senior family members or neighbors. That damn Paradox.

I am down to 125lbs, which is still UFC/MMA cut-weight in case I wanted a new career because being (the best/only) local freelance writer/journalist has dried up and I am indigent with not a penny to my name. I don't want this to be a sob story, though. I don't, nor ever will, have a Paypal or CashMe. I remain ever grateful for my friends and family supporting me in being gainfully unemployed. By the way, did you see that Electric 6 is hawking a Paypal "in these tough times"? Oh, fuck off. And lets not even get into those lazy pig fuckers [redacted times 7]. Alright, I'm getting off the tracks here. The reason for this post is the positive feedback for my first Coronavirus photo blog (Coronavirus and the Super Bowl). Quite a few wanted a Part 2. Sequels usually tend to suck, but I'll give it a shot. It'll suck.

Yesterday, I had Mexican carry out from a recently re-opened restaurant along with my first Summer Shandy of 2020 (I've had five since). It was among the top 3 highlights of 2020, along with Elizabeth First's visit with cool drink, good talk, and [redacted], and the Boneyard match at WrestleMania between The Undertaker and AJ Styles. My mom sent my cats a birthday card with a scratch-off. Won $50. Instead of using it for cat treats I said "Fuck it", and decided to leave the JCMsTown Compound for the first time in forever and meet the people, document the current climate, and get a steak that I will grill myself. The danger is high, and my life is at risk, but it is a gorgeous day, and I am going to grill, dammit. I could do carry out, but I like my food hot and my drink cool. Delivery is out of the question as the driver could be a double agent, FBI probably, mapping out the Compound. After all, a member of the Hamtramck Music Fest committee tossed out the idea that I should be reported to Homeland Security in 2017. Ironically, that same member was sacked from his own Fest soon after by other members of the committee, ho ho ho. Great job Tony Liggs. Tip of the ole cap. Whatever, lets leave the Compound and go see what a Sunday in May, the year of our lord, 2020 is like.

The first part of my plan was to equip myself in military gear, secure the hazmat suit along with a lavender face mask and high powered lavender plumber's gloves. I then grabbed the burner, porno  laptop, and made a phone call.

I contacted a freelance sign language expert named Cynthia because, based on all recent news footage, everybody in the country is fucking deaf and I needed to have all the bases covered (no disrespect to the deaf Constant Readers; I know a few and they are the nicest people, despite a reason to be raging hyenas). Once Cynthia the Signer arrived I had my driver jump start the car. It was at this point that I discovered that Cynthia the Signer was also deaf. This was off to a great start so I just fed her a bunch of acid and whiskey and read a book to her. At this point it was time to move as the driver finally got the car started and Cynthia the Signer was far away from peaking. Time to go to Kroger you monsters.

I waffled on the hazmat suit at first because it could cause a panic combined with a deaf sign language professional high on acid, but ultimately went for it at first. It was difficult getting to the cart area because Cynthia kept wandering around signing at people, possibly drooling. She will need some of the cool drink I brought along.

Cynthia eventually wandered into the Kroger gas station so I decided to let them deal with that menace. By this time I was completely wild and wanted to see what was to happen inside the store, the real story, what's the score here? But first I needed another drink. So I wandered into the employee outdoor break area mumbling that I knew the coach, I mean manager, and that I couldn't breathe in this goddamn thing. The proles fled as I tried to relax, my photog yelling something about the police.

We entered the store with Cynthia the signer finally catching up and lecturing a crop of oranges, the peak emerging.

Despite the cars in the parking lot the produce area was eerily empty.

I made my way to the meat area to get my steaks. They didn't have much of a selection but that didn't stop Cynthia the signer to grab a package of round steak and suck the blood out of it. I realized that it might be time to cut Cynthia loose. I tossed a chicken breast to distract the sign language expert on acid and raced to the checkouts. Unfortunately I ran into Crabby Rich wearing his new Space Force shirt. He wanted to talk about the next WWE pay per view but I had to get out quick because I could hear Cynthia yelling incoherently from the meat section, so we decided on a photo shoot (my photog was back from drinking in the car).

I quickly paid for my steaks but not quick enough as Cynthia the signer caught up and was now signing in a foreign language, Chinese maybe, and chewing on an uncooked chicken breast. I told management that she has a bad heart and fed her some Ativan to calm this creature down. We got out of the supermarket just as the police were arriving. On the way back to the Compound we ditched Cynthia at a bar that was closed. Once back at the Compound I started my steaks. Finally. I also came up with my next post: a play off the live stream shows that keep bugging me online. It'll be fun. Got a quick start...

To end this, the steaks were great and I ended the afternoon (we all know the evening was not an option) with cool drink at the National Affairs Desk that lasted 15 minutes. Stay tuned for the live show muthas.

I Remain,
Bryan Metro

The Honor Role
Cynthia the Signer
AJ Styles
The Undertaker
E First
Tony Liggs

Wednesday, April 22, 2020

The Freak Also Rises

*Author's Note- This site is an entertainment site mixed with a dash of social commentary and music. As always, if anything is incorrect or (gasp) offensive I will remove it, silently curse you, and apologize. The following may or may not have happened. Its pure freedom of the reader. Its whatever you want it to be. All still legal right? And now...

This past Sunday an attempt was made on my life. No, it wasn't the plaintiff gang hopped up on lattes and rabid after clicking foul, rage-inducing internet posts (that last line has been copyrighted by Metro LLC). No, this savage threat came from within the inner circle.

It was late in the afternoon and I was just waking up. Three beers later I received a phone call from the JCM's no-good scag baron of a tambourine player, Elizabeth First, saying she was outside. My first thought was, "How did she find me? Was it that whore Susanna Dean that told her?" The reason for the visit was to deliver me a care package with the evil intent of ending me. I did not realize this at the time, but I did verify that we had a conversation regarding a visit the night before, both drunk/buzzed, that I forgot. At the time I didn't even give my location because I chalked it up to late night drunk talk. I then realized that I gave the location last year when we plotted for her to come to one of my court appearances and toss a custard pie into [redacted's] face. The plan would have failed anyway because the Whiner Club has failed to show up at a single......ah fuck it, oh well, whatever, nevermind. I decided to exit the Compound and confront this beast.

We maintained the six foot social distancing rules (despite her already violating it by making a non-essential visit), (Spoiler alert-It was essential; more on that in the coda). I was on the porch and her sitting on the sidewalk. After seconds, that turned to me on the porch with a vodka and Coke and a case of PBR and her on the sidewalk with a quart of vodka and some other soda, looking like a princess in need, giving much more than she received. I was tempted to put the [redacted] down and lets go downtown to the neighborhood disco. But they're all closed. So we just settled in, a rare breed of battle-hardened vampires, after a decade still breaking rules. The neighbors were....curious.
   We caught up with current events like social distancing, the virus, etc. Honestly, at this point, I was disgusted for even participating in it. We then had a polite and rational dialogue where I said the restriction rules were both excessive yet necessary; the perfect paradox. You have one front saying their rights are being taken away (much like my litigation with the First Amendment Freak Speech) and are fueled by government propaganda. And on the other front we have those with a more medical/scientific approach and fully subscribe to the sanctions, also fueled by government propaganda; the ultimate of ironies. The left, right, laughers, screamers all end up as lemmings. Fear, and to some degree, religion are the "go-to's" for keeping everybody in line, and that is how it always has been. Its like the whole world has turned Catholic with the mantra, "No fun until its too late, and then you die." Fuck that. I decided to lighten the mood by discussing steaks and my frustration by not being able to grill a steak. The ones I have tried have been okay to good, but not up to my standards. The devil woman said she would grill me a steak when we go up north to blow up trees and cottages. I digress, back to the attempt on my life.

I should have seen it coming but was just happy to finally see a friend. The vodka and Coke was Stage One. I stay away from hard drink and can't have caffeine because of a bad heart, Angina Pectoris, I think. You would have to ask my doctor, though he has stopped returning my calls.

Next up was the case of PBR. Now what follows could have resulted in a stroke or a brain bubble, but that pales in comparison to what a single can of PBR does to a man's stomach. Fuck it, I slammed three to start with no worries about pissing out of my ass.
   Next up the fact that Nazi traitor managed to get me out of the Compound. I have extreme allergies and everything is blooming out there. This is going to croak me. Here I am spending 30 minutes outside taking it all in with a brain embolism looming.
   Finally, after I was about to sic the dogs on her she gave me an envelope with [redacted]. I put my empty cup (six feet away), hoping for a refill, but she took it as the cue to leave, that vile Marxist.

Back inside the sun went down and I cut up and fried six cubed potatoes in anticipation of watching the live stream of this year's Detroit Music Awards while on [redacted]. Of course, Detroit fucks up harder and there was a 45 minute delay. By this time it was too late. I couldn't deal with Ancient Jill Jack claiming another DMA as I waited for this to take hold. The vibes started to kick in as I felt sorry for Jill as this yearly night is the vindication....of a catalogue of nothingness. I watched a Muggs video after they won and scrambled to find a calendar. To be fair, the song was good and they are good guys, although that could be the vodka, PBR, and [redacted] talking. I forgot to nominate ourselves this year and I am sure "Altered Photos" would have won. The link is one post back. Besides, we've already won so fuck it.

The care package was kicking in and I was feeling mellow (as promised) so I retreated to the bedroom office and the National Affairs Desk. I was staring at a wall with no music and the horrid, toxic news playing outside at the Sports Desk, and things began to shift. Pounding drums outside the window at 3am and crows trying to get into the room. Horrific black wings fluttering under the door, the cats were howling, cats on the roof. I saw my late father but he was older and thinner, but after a minute I realized I had gotten off the bed and was looking in the mirror, such a cruel prank. I noticed a red dot on my wrist. Too bright to be melanoma but it had tentacles that attacked my neck. THEY ARE IN MY MOUTH! The Slide had arrived and all the explosives were in the garage. No way to get past the crows and ghosts. I saw the sun rise and then set; no sleep needed. I haven't done that since 200?. And now...

The day (?) after had the anticipated body buzz (as promised). I felt old even though I've always been a Pro. I probably have bruises on my ass from sitting in bed for 14 hours. I messaged my Satanic percussionist to find out if the [redacted] was zapped with a chaser. It was not. I'm just getting old. It sucks. My criminal derelict of a tambo player then messaged with, "I hope it helped with your boredom," which actually is more profound than anything I wrote above; an act of kindness meant to kill me. Or, an act to kill me meant to be an act of kindness. Again, the perfect paradox. I think we know the true intention despite the satire above.
   My advocate/roommate was disappointed with me and sarcastically said, "Why not write about it?" Both of these demons were right. It has been months since I've had anything to sink my teeth into but this one little blip, bloop, charged me up. I have always kept to myself but once this silly virus got out it framed my outlook a tad into me missing my friends. That is why E First's visit on Sunday was such a catharsis, despite her attempt on my life. You can miss some people on purpose, but when you Have to, then it starts to sting. I have never missed any friends on purpose, but am miserable now that I have to. In closing, thanks to all on the Honor Roll. And as always, I'll see you in hell. Selah!

From the Iceman Commeth,
Bryan Metro

The Honor Roll:
Elizabeth First
Vinnie Rawsonville
Melissa Misfit
Kentucky Pete

Sunday, April 19, 2020

Altered Photographs

Eat Shit Franz Ferdinand


Thursday, April 16, 2020

Leaving Fat City

Hey all, Metro here. I am very proud (but not gloating) that the JCM Collective has donated a substantial amount to provide soap and cleansing materials to local hospitals. Out of pocket. No Go Fund Me scams or anything like that. Just genuine concern for the community, no rewards. For over two years I have seen pigs and pig fuckers asking, no begging, for Cash-Me's, "reparations", and Pay Pal's and it disgusted me. I pointed these swine-fuckers out and am now in a non-ending litigation because I decided to point this lazy money scam out. These swine have been begging for money while barely holding a restaurant job (quite the challenge) for years and these days call for a final "Fuck You"! I'm probably in a worse financial state than these bubba's yet they still ask for money like the swine they are. I'm looking at you Asia (that was a Corona reference). This post is not meant to pat my back, but to say you can still help out others in tough times, something the pigs have never done, ever. Here is the link if you care to donate to the hospital relief efforts. If you don't want to just give it to a bogus, non-taxed, Cash Me.

Here is the link/org the JCM gave money to. Use it as you will or find another, or just stay safe.

From the Iceman Commeth,
Bryan Metro

Tuesday, April 14, 2020

Welcome to Fat City

From the National Affairs Desk

"Strange days have found us. Strange days have tracked us down. They're going to destroy, our casual joys."- The Doors
"Strange days indeed. Most peculiar mama."- John Lennon
"The walls are closing in again, oh well."- Queens of the Stone Age

Ah indeed, nobody did tell me there would be days like these. Unless you count the national media which is about as useful as a cherry bomb attached to a grenade tossed into a non-essential fireworks warehouse. I stopped paying attention to the media years ago when I finally realized that true, non-agenda, journalism was dead. I actually should have realized that back in 1978. Sure, there is the full spectrum out there, from the bigots at Fox News to homosexuals like Anderson Cooper who looks like he is talking to a mirror instead of a camera (That sentence was satire. Fox News has no bigots and Anderson Cooper is not a homosexual). It is all too boring yet fearful at the same time. With this self-quarantine/social distancing getting old quick (even though I invented it years ago), I needed to get out of the JCMsTown Compound to get the real story. I needed to see it with my own eyes and convey it in writing, with no agenda.

The streets were light, but not exactly Walking Dead bare. It reminded me of the last time I was at the Hamtramck Labor Day Fest, except there was no Dancing Mayor. Now that I think about it, I didn't see her at the Labor Day Fest either. I did see a few people jogging or walking dogs and they all socially distanced themselves. It probably helped that I was wearing a lavender bandana and high powered lavender rubber gloves (I left the hand cannon at the Compound). The first stop was the local liquor store. All of the Arab employees were fitted with facemasks and gloves. It was jarring. Men were playing Keno and women buying expensive wine. It was if Caligula was right after all. I mumbled, "This is serious business, man," to the clerk before getting my scratch-off tickets. I asked if it had been like this all day and he just shrugged his shoulders, no words. I tossed him one of my lucky coins and said it would help him more than "those damn masks", and ran out yelling, "See you in hell"! He never even picked up the coin.

The next stop was a Kroger to buy supplies for family. I figured that any parasite couldn't sustain itself in my system, so why not me? Unfortunately, I am banned from this Kroger, but fortunately I had a driver (in addition to already having a six pack in me with two more on my lap in the car). I was advised to stay in the car and "not get arrested or cause a scene". So I sat in silence watching people come and go, nearly all of them wearing masks or bandanas. I cracked open one of the beers after seeing the woman mother in full mask and glove regalia pushing her unprotected baby in the store. For a moment I was transported back to downriver. I started to feel the panic cresting. It was then when the altercation happened.

By this time I was around seven beers past legally drunk and saw a large black man, bigger than Tunde, loading his groceries into his SUV and wearing a mask. Then another black guy, skinnier (think Skeefy before the weight gain), who wasn't wearing a mask and had no groceries, walks by and asks what he is so scared about. I was confused by this because of the drink but this was actually happening. The large man politely said to keep your distance but the antagonist mocked him and dramatically kept stepping forward. I cringed, fearing for the worst, and after scanning the parking lot for the "Cheaters" camera crew, opened the window and yelled "You fucking savage. Leave the man alone. Scram bubba. I know the chief of police here and he lives right around the corner." All of this noise while waving a (now empty) beer can which is better than an unloaded 9mm, but only by a hair. The mentally ill stalker wandered off and the nice guy just shook his head and gave a thumbs up. Once again, no words. Weeks ago, my Asian bass player predicted that it would come to situations like this; a grain of sand foul encounter on a random street corner that could be happening any/everywhere. Strange days indeed.

The Coronavirus has affected every aspect of our lives, from basic daily life, to entertainment, to jobs, to blogging, to health care to, well, everything. Just a few days ago that parking lot fever dream happened and I was terrified. But do I need to be? Should I? What's next? It depends on who you listen to, if at all (see the 1st paragraph). With everybody secluded in their houses living in a Culture of Fear, the media has quite the advantage. I'm sure streaming services are doing banana business with theaters shutting down and I'm sure the Netflix boardroom has been on a streaming 24 hour orgasm that AMC theaters may never re-open. As for traditional media, those favored by people like my mom, they have no option but to watch. Their ratings were bottoming out last year. Today the memo is "Fear, fear, fear. Watch more. Who has it now?" Yes, I fully admit this is a severe, cynical point of view and honestly hope that people are doing the right thing. As with everything, it is a difficult balancing act. I will say that this is a fascinating, interesting, sad time in our history......Oh god now I'm starting to sound like Jeff Milo (Just the last sentence though. Milo would never post an indictment of the media like that as he is a slave to them). Jump cut- Transition:

With all of this free time (ho, ho, ho) as an excuse, finally, for being lazy and unemployed I should be posting more but the well has run dry. Aside from National Affairs, and with the Sports Desk being shut down, there really is nothing to write about anymore, at least in the local sense. Then again, it was boring even before the Super Flu. So I've taken to writing letters. They are all over the Compound and usually only one to two pages. After I am croaked by Asia Mock's goons stomping me outside of a coffee shop I hope they are compiled and published, a final Fuck You.

In March I cracked a tooth eating Sweet Tarts and it was unbearable. I couldn't talk but found an emergency dentist to see me (normal dentist procedures had already been suspended). I wrote them a letter to explain my "dire" situation. They found it hilarious and nothing they had ever seen and made a copy and posted it on the wall. For fun, here is the letter. As always with my work, 90% truth, 10% fiction.

"HELLO DOC!           JCMsTown Compound 3/30/2020
My name is Robby and I may have the worst mouth you've seen this year. For years (decade?) I have neglected my teeth and it has finally caught up with me.
The Story:
First off, I have to state I suffer from extreme anxiety and have a prescription(s) for this along with cool drink (ho, ho, ho) when needed. I do NOT take recreational drugs despite my better judgement even though my appearance would suggest otherwise, and you haven't even seen the teeth yet. That being said, please be gentile or say nothing at all when examining me. I would turn into a raving banshee. Ah, back to
The Story:
I don't think I've been to a dentist in at least a decade. I don't remember the name of the last one but they are probably retired or dead, if they're lucky, at this time. I most likely have gum disease, gingivitus, missing fillings, needs fillings, Covid-19 (scratch that last one), dissolving gums, bleeding gums, and will most likely lose most of my teeth within this decade. I understand and accept that, and today is the first step in salvaging anything.
The Reason:
A few days ago I was binging on Sweet Tarts and part of my back right molar broke off. The one in front of it was obliterated in 2007, but that time was due to a box of Nerds at a coney island. The coney tooth is a dead zone right now. No root canal needed. I burned the nerves out years ago with whiskey and Vicodin. The reason for this visit is because of the jagged shard of a tooth slicing up my tongue. I can't talk/eat (hence this letter) and have trouble drinking, the true crime in this charade. I promise I am not a "meth-head" or slumming with the White Horse. I'm an honest local writer/journalist (best in town) just needing some help. I would be fine if you sandblasted it to dust, or maybe a temporary filling. I understand the tongue is already damaged, but will heal, as it is one of the quickest body parts to heal. As a new patient, I would be receptive to follow up visits to check off the really bad stuff. Hopefully my insurance will be squared off by then as I have no intention of paying any medical bills otherwise. I am working on a novel "The Invisible People" that I hope to sell to Viking or Random House which would allow me credit on your end. But for now, this is an emergency which means you have to help me. We'll take care of money after the book deal goes through. Lets stick with the busted tooth/tongue. If I'm a lost cause I understand, but it was worth a shot.
As for that Sweet Tarts box, I still have it and plan on filling it with explosives in the backyard. Bruce, the neighbor's dog, will not be happy. Nor will the neighbors. But if there's anything worth doing, it's worth doing right.
Res Ipsa Loquitor
Robert Jr. 3/30/20"

Epilogue- They sandblasted the tooth with a diamond cut bonesaw and then used a temporary filling. As soon as I got home I applied for a dental degree. The temp filling fell out after four minutes so I just resumed drinking. I will try to write more original content so try to keep reading.

I wanted this piece to be a genuine take on current times, not doom and gloom, and not "We will get through this together.....but stay apart". Both have their merits (I guess), but a lot just sounds like memo-sent sound bites; even the commercials have been infected; fucking carpet commercials using the Virus as a selling point. It all seems a just a little slimy (and I've been around since 1978) so I get it. People making money, people losing money. I "get" and advocate all of the safe measures, but at the end of the day, just Be Yourself.
Also, take the time to look back this post and sample the Rarities album that Born Evil posted. Till next time, stay safe, be well, sound bites, doff the top for those stuck at home, and I'll see you in hell.

With absolutely no choice but to carry the banner, alone or otherwise, I remain,
Bryan Metro

Thursday, April 9, 2020


Tried to post on here last night, but google security was giving me a hell of a time.  Anyways, here's a new album.  Some old tracks, some unreleased tracks, a new mix.  It's been awhile, let me see that smile.


Wednesday, April 8, 2020

Friday, March 13, 2020

Wineheads in Coronatown. The Closing of the Sports Desk.


Hey all, Metro here. I'm at the National/Global Affairs Desk trying to consolidate hundreds of transmissions regarding March in the Year of Our Lord 2020 into a semi-readable essay which will most likely turn out to be unreadable.
Earlier today I wept as I cleaned up and closed the Sports Desk muttering "Where were you when the fun stopped?". After hanging up a "Help Wanted" sign I took old Betty out back to be put down.

The neighbors were understandably tense. Here was a raving lunatic waving a sidearm and yelling at a laptop. It didn't help that most of them had never seen me as I rarely leave the bedroom office/National Affairs Desk. Thankfully one neighbor verified seeing me mow the grass last summer and the bored looking police officer was satisfied. The neighbor thankfully left out the open beer in my leather Michigan Bell work belt as I raced across the yard trying to mow down a squirrel like a modern day Lawnmower Man. Back to the present. I ditched the hand cannon in a neighbor's mailbox with a note saying "Ho ho ho. Don't need anymore. Now I have a machine gun." I explained to the police that the neighborhood was misinformed and confused and that I never had a Glock or 9mm and it was just a Twix bar, king size, that I later ate. The explanation was good enough. Just another day in 2020. ca

Where were you when the fun stopped?

A few weeks ago I did a semi-funny photo shoot in a hazmat suit and facemask (They were still available then. I have about 12 left if anyone is interested). The post was about how people were reacting to the Coronavirus. In the post I went to pharmacies, supermarkets, bars, restaurants, bars, even the casino. Well karma can be a bitch so feel free to blame all of this on me. I only got one day's use out of the hazmat suit, although I have one more idea for it. But that is for a future post.

Since that photo blog the world has turned upside down and even I have come down with the flu. As of now it is not the Coronavirus but it is one of the more dangerous strains of the standard flu. All local band need not worry as I would not come to your show anyway. I have tried to self-quarantine (aside from the laptop/explosion episode from today). I even went back to retrieve the sharpshooter from the neighbor's mailbox because I didn't wipe it down. I did leave the machine gun note just to confuse them.

Now I am huddled cover(19)ed in blankets watching the news and surfing the Net on my Backup Backdoor Betty laptop. Three weeks ago I was joking about the reaction, but today they have my attention. In the span of 48 hours Eddie Murphy and Nick Nolte......In the span of Another 48 hours Eddie Murphy and Nick Nolte....After Hours I was going to make a Tom Hanks joke but I got it confused with Night Shift. Anyway, the following has happened:
-NBA cancels the season with multiple players testing positive for the Bug. Pretty big. Commissioner Nosferatu Silver unafraid as he is a creature of the night.
-NCAA cancels March Madness. Pretty huge as Vegas turns into Sodom.
-NHL suspends season. Must be serious if hockey is on lockdown.
-Tom Hanks and wife confirmed with Virus. Unconfirmed Hanks quote, "I thought Philadelphia was rough.
-MLB postpones opening days. Pretty big. The Houston Astros say "Thank god".
-DIA and DSO suspend events. Semi-big but none of you savages were going anyway.
-MLS soccer suspended. Sort of big, just not here.
-Most schools closed. Smart move; real talk.
-Pro golf (PGA) events cancelled. Pussies.
-New York, Boston, and Detroit St. Pattys Day Parades cancelled. Somebody call in a wellness check on Woodman.
-Blake Shelton concert zapped. Chatters in Westland will be packed.
-Detroit WWE Smackdown cancelled. I had the hazmat suit ready. If there's any time for the Undertaker to come to town its now.
-WrestleMania likely to be moved/postponed. Actually convenient because it gives Undertaker a head start on his entrance.
-November's presidential election postponed as Trump named permanent Commander in Chief until further notice. (That one was a joke, but can't you see it happening?)

That is one hell of a list and all of them within the past few days. What's next? I just wish we would have known about this pandemic back in December so the Hamtramck Music Fest could have been cancelled. Sorry, another joke. Aside from the bands playing nobody paid for a wristband.

In all seriousness, we are living in an interesting time; uncharted waters. Vultures will be hovering once things get level, if they do at all. As for now, be safe, be well, stay away from local music. I said earlier "Where were you when the fun stopped?", but now I think the fun is just getting started. Just as long as they don't take the bar; the Whole Fucking Bar!

From the Iceman Commeth,
Bryan Metro

Friday, February 28, 2020

Fear and Loathing and Pigs at the Hamtramck Music Fest

From the National Affairs Desk-

Hey all, Metro here. I'm trying my best to provide as much coverage of the 2020 HMF while dealing with the flu (not that one). We all knew that this year's Hamtramck Music Fest was going to be a flop with the weather being the obvious scapegoat (though that never stopped peak Blowouts). This has kind of flown under the radar, but it definitely needs to be mentioned. A few hours ago the official HamFest Facebook posted this....

It caught my eye. What was the reason? Fears of the SuperFlu? Power/equipment issues? Bands dropping out? What will the bands booked be doing? Will they hop on other bills? Just go home? These are all questions any local music fan who gives a shit would be asking themselves. Thankfully, I have the answers. First off, here is the original lineup:

I got down to the bottom of things quick. The HMF statement is misleading and practically insulting to the acts playing. The show is NOT cancelled. The same lineup will be playing tonight. It has not been cancelled. Once again it has not been cancelled. Wristbands are no longer required for entry, but the show is NOT cancelled. As the best local journalist I found out why also. You can get the scoop by donating to my cashme app #bestintheworld.  Just kidding. The reason Kelly's pulled out of the Fest is a "falling out". I didn't want to pry any more because I already got what I needed.

So in conclusion, the "programming" has NOT been cancelled. It is now free and I would love to see Kelly's packed tonight with organic support of local acts which will still be playing. Shame on you Hamtramck Music Fest for being petty and trying to ruin yet another local business.

From the Iceman Commeth,
Bryan Metro