A Eulogy, Opening Day, and Rank Needs Money

From the Sports Desk- Some true, some fiction, all commentay/satire

"Baby, baby, baby you're out of time.
I said baby, baby, baby you're out of time
You are all left out
Out of there without a doubt.
Cause baby, baby, baby you're out of time"- The Rolling Stones (1966)

Boy, those lyrics sure sound definite. I gave my opinion on the concept of "definite" a few posts back. That is, I think its bullshit. The only things that are "definite" are death and boycotting a restaurant after a bad meal (Roast, I'm looking at you). Anyway, I just started and am already on a tangent. Where did that come from? This post was outlined as a eulogy for pop culture and sports, along with my Tigers Opening Day fun, capped off with a medical update. So lets kick out the jams.

The death of pop culture/entertainment/sports started long before Covid-19. From 2017 through 2019 I found myself going to the theater less and less. The quality of movies, especially movies that interested me was at a nadir. I didn't even bother with music, and all books had to focus on an agenda and not the important things like character and story. Sports became a turn-off because of the absurd contracts, high ticket prices, owner corruption, "superteams", and player scandals. It just wasn't fun anymore. There was little entertainment aside from that you made yourself; backyard shows for birds, highly intoxicated (the band, not the birds, I think), going to the grocery store mildly intoxicated, and watching old JCM shows at 3am, out of beer, with an M-80 in my mouth, its wick covered in water, just to see if it would light. Then Covid-19 hit harder than bad Chinese takeout on one's stomach.

Now, pop culture, film, and music depend completely on streaming services. There are too many to keep track of, and a new one every week. To be fair, music has depended on this for over a decade now no matter how many Record Store Days there are. The, already declining, theater experience is currently non-existent, which Asian Bass Player Vinnie predicted a year ago (One more dollar in the bet pool; you are up $4), although drive-in's are making a comeback, which is cool. The tentpole movies keep getting pushed back, hoping for re-openings. Who knows, we may never see Tenet, Wonder Woman 2, or Halloween Kills (awful title) on the big screen at all. Yowie Wowie!

Sports are even worse. Baseball and basketball are back with shortened seasons and no fans/tailgating allowed, although bars and restaurants will be open in some cities, Detroit being one. College seasons are kaput. Football is the only one that will have fans starting in September, which means we'll all be dead by January. In addition, every pro athlete seems to have turned into a bandwagon-jumping, insufferable, preacherman. The pitchers mounds and basketball courts have "black lives matter" printed on them, which is cool even if they're decades tardy. The first game of the year saw both the Yankees and Nationals take a knee in a sign of unity, which is cool, but about as dated as a 1980's Rolling Stones song. They should switch it up and let each team have 45 seconds to loot the opposing team's equipment room; practicing social distancing of course. I also have to wonder if the mass kneeling would have happened if there were fans in the stands. How would the broadcasters handle the possible boos? I also wonder where all the people who would have been at the game watched it. Ratings were up so "at home" would be a good guess, but as I referenced earlier, you have to wonder how many went to the bar for opening weekend. We'll all be dead before football even starts. One neat thing is that the NBA is letting players customize their jerseys with names of the deceased, slogans such as "No justice, no peace" and "4X the safe level of Fentanyl". You can even customize your own through their shop site, although they rejected my "Free Hong Kong" and "Tunde Ate My Nachos" requests. And through all of this, still nobody is talking about hockey...

All of this can be applied on a local level as well. The local film industry dried up years ago due to the infamous "We can do it ourselves!" Detroit Inferiority Complex. As for sports, the Tigers and Lions can be lumped up above and the Pistons season is over, ho ho ho. I did see that die hard Tigers nut Woodman made the drive to Cincy for the first Tigers game, presumably watching through the gates or at a pub. I didn't see any masks though. Still, I would trust a drunk caveman over a media whore like Fauci who looks like he should be running Heaven's Gate 2.0 (and who knows, maybe he is muahahahaha).

As for the local music scene, that's been dead for years anyway. In the present day there are no shows to say you will be going to that you will no show. You know who you are. Everybody reading ha ha. Right now its all basement live streams, the latest shitty new song, and podcasts. Which reminds me, what happened with that one podcast that had a GoFundMe set up for thousands of dollars? Due to XXXXX [Redacted] reasons, I can't name names, but if the coney dog is to Detroit then the Coronavirus is to....well, you get it. More importantly, Where Did All The Money Go?

Oh wait, there actually was a local show this past weekend, the first since the shutdown. It was called the Detroit Music Weekend 2020. There was not a lot of hype about it, but this is Detroit after all. Here is/was the link:
Detroit Music Weekend 2020
Of course all of the artists are painfully dull no-names who represent nothing of what Detroit music means to me (What a dickish statement). Here is their flyer:

Hey wait! They totally ripped off the Detroit Music Award logo from the year JCM won. I have mine framed.

To their credit, they did take great effort in social distancing, which is cool. Did this event actually happen? I decided to get in on the fun (and fun coupons) by bringing out the tried and true "Down on His Luck Troubadour" gimmick. I was dropped off close to the venue, but not too close so that I didn't scare anyone away from the event due to my hazmat suit. My driver, Fuzz, dropped me off and went to play the "dollar bill trick" with the neighboring lots. It took me a while to find a stranger to use my phone to do me up. My go-to line was "I don't have That Bug, but if its a Bug you want there's a really nice alley right over there."

I ended up making $11.13. They should just re-open local shows, a surefire way to keep people at home; bring back Blowout. Okay, jump, flash, cut to my Tigers Home Opener, two days later.

I passed on the bar for multiple reasons (27 days!), and decided to have it at the Compound. I had the meat and extras ready to roll way before first pitch.

For those curious, the blue/black plate is my special marinade, a tab of acid. Who gets it, steak or burger, steak or burger? Next up was to fire up the grill. Fire it up. Fire it up.

My editor advised me to put the explosive on the ground as the grill was unstable (not the only one) and I could set the Compound, or at least a car, on fire.

At last, it was time to eat and the game hadn't even started. Afterwards, I felt like a good ole' Dixie Pig, but at least I didn't catch The Bug (unless you count salmonella).

To wrap things up, a brief medical update. The future two weeks promise more bloodwork, a visit with the Gastro-Doc, two visits with rehab (even though I will be drink free for over a month by that time), and a MRI. Something wicked is on my liver. It has been called a cyst, tumor, a spot, a dark spot (dark spots matter), and, most recently, a lesion. I find "lesion" the scariest. I've never had an MRI before, but 45 minutes in a tube, surrounded by noise seems like the perfect time to take my last hit of acid.
   So that's it for now. I wrote way more than I wanted to, but what else am I gonna do? Start a podcast? Gimmie my money. Cash Me now! Because baby, baby, baby you're (almost) out of time.

As I Remain,
Jefferson Rank (is Bryan Metro)

Sick Boy, Complainers, A Priest, and Restaurant Week

More boredom from outside the Compound. Having just put down a book, still sitting in a chair in the yard, feet propped up to ease the pain, feeling the need to actually DO something.

It is Day 21 of no drinking and I have to admit, there is little redeeming about it aside from the fact that I have accomplished it with little effort which is the way to go (this applies to everything in life really). I'd like to say that I'm bouncing around, full of energy, with a new outlook on life, but that's really just in the movies. My days are spent reading, watching the news, spending hours coordinating doctors appointments then complaining about all the time I lost doing so, cooking (one positive is that I am eating more), and lottery scratch off tickets. While doing one the other day I thought what I would do if I won $5000 a week for life. That depressed me even more. Its not like I can go anywhere and even if there were options like something exotic I would pass. I get bored with exotic, sitting waterfront, under a palm tree. That does not interest me. I'm interested in the human condition and that would be ripe right now with all the protests along with the upcoming election (and more protests) with every waterhead in the country losing their minds. Once again, thanks to the virus, all goosed up with nothing to do; probably punishment for all the years complaining about the same bands playing every week/Fest. Hell I would take a George Morris Gypsy Chorus show right now. Couldn't be as bad as drowning in your own lung mucus right? Don't answer that. Now don't be misunderstood, none of the above is meant to complain, just to give insight to the walls closing in and the newness of sobriety (dull, overrated, easier than expected). If you want to see real complaining just go to Facebook. Good lord. I don't really go to others' pages anymore but members of the Honor Roll still send me screenshots to try and get that Bryan Metro lockbox open. Every post I see is somebody complaining; very depressing. Its not just complaining actually, but parlayed with looking for handouts. Take these gems from Deastro from earlier this month. Now would be a good time to repost the Blog policy that if anybody finds anything offensive or not accurate please message and request that they be taken down and I will gladly comply. On to the whining:

Posts like these make me stay as far away from the internet as possible. You can see it on the local and national level. FYI, I have Medicaid and have seen over ten doctors this past year, none of whom were in Taylor, not that there is anything wrong with Taylor, as implied in Robo-Twerp's post. If not being able to buy weed is a major issue earmarked for the entire internet to know then your life is actually pretty good. I can't vouch for the pain part but I assume there is a squatter in a loft a few blocks over who would wave cash fees for....lets forget about that. In all seriousness there are websites where one can look up/recommend medical facilities that accept your insurance. I realize that we probably have different Medicaid providers with me winning the DMA over Deastro, but that's what I did The internet research not the DMA; WAIT, both). Blow up the internet (tee hee, how quaint) that way. Jeeeeeze.

Another popular gimmick is setting up a GoFundMe so one can quit their job because they hate their boss (Racism! Sexism!). You would be surprised at how many of these there are.

Looks like XXXXXX XXXXXXX [Redacted] was a true trailblazer. Other things I've noticed are people posting the same opinion/memes (meaning they reach the same 40 people, irony that is over their heads). They all have similar messages of stopping hate and coming together. I believe there's even a hot phrase checklist out there with items like " stopping systemic racism and "inclusivity", things anyone with a brain can get behind. Unfortunately, these posts devolve into going on a racist, hate-filled diatribe. I'd give you some examples, but, well, y'know. These people probably have no idea what "unity" even means, but I bet they have decent pot. Barring health issues, I'd still like to attend a protest or two. I don't care what issue its for, so basically I'll fit right in.

Speaking of health stuff (back to boredom), the fluid has returned to my stomach and surrounding areas making me look seven months pregnant, or Hip in Detroit during Restaurant Week; ALL of Restaurant Week, the whole fucking week. I never bothered with Restaurant Week (RIP) because half of the restaurants would be closed within the year anyway. I digress. So, I have three more obstacles before being cleared (if I avoid the virus at all these non-Taylor hospitals). This week is the big one. Liver specialist at Henry Ford Main, the place I was born, making this a return to the scene of the crime. I guess when I was in the ER they found a cyst on my liver (or an undigested Sweet-Tart or Gobstopper). I will put on my mean, yet apathetic, face and tell the Doc that the last person who crossed me caused me to kidnap a priest and drive to a graveyard and place made-up voodoo symbols on random graves using chicken bones I'd been saving for months.
   "What are those? he nervously asked. One of us had already pissed themselves.
   "Chicken bones, padre. Now bless them," followed by the infamous, "Are you prepared to go to court?" Out of the three remaining check boxes, the liver one seems most likely to croak me, so it comes first.

Next up is the Gastro-Doc to try to figure out what to do about the stomach, fluid, hernia, etc. That is, if I'm not locked up or catatonic. Finally, is the official rehab which shouldn't take too long, could be fun, and starts after the 28th day of not drinking, the unofficial mark of alcohol completely being out of one's system. Hopefully I'll be in the clear by Labor Day (RIP Labor Day Fest). Right now I can't even carry a gallon of milk. Once again, not complaining, just trying to look on the bright side. I don't have to carry the milk. My occupation on my tax forms is freelance writer (ie: a bum). Did I even do my taxes this year? What's next? Everybody stay safe and keep drinking. Drink a lot. Too much! Build a campfire in your neighbor's garage. Then drink more. I could use the company in the hospital. And if something goes terribly wrong, know I was ready for it, it never got weird, and don't forget the chicken bones. I should be fine though. God wouldn't want me sending angry missives from the relocated National Affairs Desk in purgatory. Talk to you soon. Keep the screenshots coming!

As I Remain,
Jefferson Rank (is Bryan Metro)

The Death of Fun and the Birth of Fear

*As always, 90% fact, 10% fiction
Well, it has come to this.....my first sober Lavender Blog post. Because of this fact I cannot with clear conscience sign off as Bryan Metro, thus betraying the persona I took so long to cultivate, so I have created the sober persona: Jefferson Rank. Make sense? Who cares?

Anyway, lets get to the meat. As -jr said in a previous post, I have been in and out of the doctors for the past few weeks.  Here is a brief health timeline: Metro, E First, and Vinnie filmed a JCM Concert For Covid at the Compound that has yet to be posted. I am a mess throughout the thing. You can see when the hernia actually takes place as I attempt to sit down and fail.  The clip should be below




That week I
went to see the doc and he sent me to another doc who sent me to another doc who said it was a hernia. They could do surgery except there was mystery fluid in my stomach and outer stomach so the risk of the surgery not "taking" was high. The pain was so bad I went to the ER on Tues. Day 1. At some point it was decided that I stop drinking and since I have final say, I agreed. A part of me was curious what 2020 would look like from the vantage of a square, boring, shmuck.

The Rehab Diaries- The following may contain semi-graphic material but not really.
Tues. Day 1
i was mentally unprepared to completely stop drinking when I got to the ER. I immediately was zapped with an IV and five blood panels. I was moved to a private room (thank god), but that meant I had to be admitted something I had never done and something else I was not mentally equipped for.
   "I have a bad heart," I try to explain. I also explained my impressive drinking habit I had formed (every day for over a decade and a half).
   "Would you like some Ativan?" the nurse offers.
   "Well why didn't you say so?" I gush. Bing boom; another IV. Out. Shadowlands.

Wed. Day 2
I wake up to discover that I had pissed the bed. I didn't bother telling anyone; just put more sheets on it. The pj's had to go though and since I wasn't expecting to be admitted I had no change of clothes. I buzz the nurse in and tell her that I am starting to feel the Fear.
   "Perhaps some Ativan," a fine solution. My room was outside of the nurses' station so I grab some nurse's slacks. However, when getting into bed the pants split and I soil myself. Now we have a problem with the piss pj's in a corner. So I waddle back to grab a second pair of slacks. A nurse, a different one asks if I need anything.
   "Getting jittery," I improvise.
   "Ativan?" as expected.
   "Great idea! Let me clean up and meet me in five."
As I am scrubbing down a voice says, "Housekeeping".
   "Fuck off, I am not to be disturbed. Bad heart."
Soon I am being carted off for some silly tests and I am zonked out of my mind. When we get back the bed has been made (oh shit) but the pj's are still in the corner, a shameful secret between myself and housekeeping. I tell them I have no idea how I got here and it is starting to get to me. More drugs. Shadowlands.

Thurs. Day 3
The big day where the fluid in my sides is to be drained. I tell the nurse about my nerves going into this and she suggested Ativan. Since the IV was being used to administer a vitamin drip (ha ha), they gave me two high powered shots (I couldn't eat or drink a pill due to today's procedure, not that it would have mattered). We went down to surgery where I was stabbed in the side and a tube inserted. They turned me on my side and ended up with 2 and a half blender-sized jugs of brown fluid. Upon returning to my room I informed the nurse of my fear of infection. New IV, antibiotics. Ativan. The rest of the night I hallucinated that I was at a party at a house and I was the only person in the guest room. Everybody outside the room was too loud and I only got 15 minute intervals of sleep. More loud laughter. One of the party guests comes in my room to take my blood pressure and attach something to my IV. I begin to ask......Shadowlands.

Fri. Day 4
I wake up to two more blood tests. I tell them that I have had enough and I want out.
   "Would you like some Ativan?"
   "I want out. I can't take it anymore. Yes to the Ativan.".
It was at this point I convinced myself that they had no intention of letting me leave. They may have wanted a gland from my neck, a chunk of my frontal lobe, more mystery fluid. We know its not my liver at least. Fucking cults. As I get up to go to my private bathroom I fall straight to the ground. I had lost all control of my legs. At one point I could only walk backwards. Was I carrying Rosemary's Baby? The Doc feared that I may have had a stroke in my sleep during the party last night but that was discounted because both sides were affected. I had to have an escort for the rest of my stay (fucking cults). One instance, was when I had to go to the bathroom and they had to be in there with me. They held me up and I pissed all over the floor while mumbling "Got to get out". They take me back to my bed where I was anticipating stir ups, or at least straps. They said they were working on my papers and hooked me up to a new IV (I didn't even ask) and gave me Ativan in pill form (I could now eat/drink, not that it mattered), and got me a walker. Minutes later I was released, hobbling down the hall, feeling so much better mentally and physically than when I went in.

Epilogue
The ordeal is far from done. It was embarrassing using the walker at Kroger as the handicap generally scare me and I didn't want to see any children crying at the freak in a mohawk with a walker. I should have worn a garbage bag. The 4th of July was laid back with grilling. I spent $50 on fireworks and barely shot any off. The day after I was back in the ER, but for what I honestly can't remember. I remember them putting an IV into my left vein which promptly exploded due to wear and tear. More blood needed so they went to the right arm which also exploded, even worse, sending blood bruises all the way to the wrist. Wait, I just remembered what the visit was for: hand muscle paralysis.  They didn't admit me.
As for the rest of the health side, I still have to see a Gastro-Doc for the stomach fluid and a liver doc which is a lost cause because we all know that's fucked. Right now I'm doing stay at home detox and haven't had a drink in over two weeks. And man, it is boring. And I have hobbies: writing (more on that at the end), hundreds of books (most 1st ed./signed), puzzles, cats. Next up will be at least two weeks of rehab which should be a hoot. How many times will I hear a story of a spouse leaving because of drink? Do a shot everytime! When I tell them I'm a writer I bet they ask me to read some of my stuff. I'll bring the most vile, horrific posts I can find. When its completed I'll probably get a certificate.

You may wonder why I am doing all of this. Well, because I promised some people. Plus, I'm doing it for me. Borrrrring. Let's rephrase that. I'm doing it to see if I can do it. I've said before that my book has been written and anything else is a bonus. I have no problem going to that loud party in the other room that I 'dreamt'. I'm sure I can complete this and when I do I promise not to be one of those sanctimonious poofs saying, "Don't do that. Do what I did. Life is so much clearer, better". God, those people bug me. I've never tried to lay my orders/beliefs on anybody and I wont start now.

As for the writing, well, there is none. I've already covered Covid-19 in a humorous and serious manner, the advertising juggernaut that is Black Lives Matter is something I should stay away from, I could cover the election, but so is everybody else, and the only unique slant would be from Bryan Metro who is currently in a lockbox. Finality is a concept I don't believe in unless it concerns death or bad restaurant food. One positive coming  from the Covid virus is that it accomplished what the JCM couldn't, that being breaking up the cliquey monotony that was the local music scene. I would gladly take depressing virus updates over the pathetic flyers of the same bands playing the same venues. Everyone has resorted to livestreaming from their basements to an audience of nobody. So basically the same as if they were playing live. Thank you my pretty flower bud parasites. (That was sarcasm. Everybody stay safe and if you know somebody with it, I offer my prayers). Even the always affable Woodman posted a depressing statement saying how sad he was that Jack White and Craig Brown didn't invite him to shoot off fireworks at Hamtramck Field. I also saw that this year's Dally in the Alley was cancelled. I'll call that Karma for the years JCM was passed over in favor of talentless, tick-riddled hippies living rent free in an abandoned loft sucking on Fentanyl freezie pops. I would, however, like to attend a protest though. That could be fun and I'm sure I'll have plenty of opportunities ("Excuse me did you know they guy who drew a hand cannon on the police?" "He was always such a good boy"). On second thought, that could get boring.

Okay, that last bit contained a bit of vintage meanness, but not enough to justify a Bryan Metro byline. Hopefully Born Evil will be around to post mediocre song links and pop culture/political fire while I torture the poor souls assigned to my Group in rehab. Maybe there is still some fun out there. It may no longer drop on the National Affairs Desk, I may have to go out and find it. Stay safe out there. Until then,

As I Remain,
Jefferson Rank (is Bryan Metro)

Mandy

Drunk as a skunk, I was watching this late Saturday night. Movies like this I have to wait for the son and the wife to fall asleep. Honestly, for the first half I was bored out of my skull. Once they lit the bitch on fire in a bag and Nic Cage goes insane, that's when I really tuned in. Chainsaw fights, bikers filled with nails, a Manson-esque cult...all while using the same tropes as Spring Breakers (melding of scenes, call backs to previous parts with no reasoning, etc....). I wouldn't mind giving it another go sans the brown bottle (Jackson Rankus style). So yeah check out Mandy.


-jr

-jr's Spicy Picks

Click the picture above to take you to the top 50 I've been listening to lately. It will be updated weekly, probably on Mondays.

In other news, what is going on at the MOCAD? Seems like it's a fun place to work.

-jr

The Swirl of the Toilet Called Life Continues

Follow me down the drain.......

Metro is in and out of hospitals. Trying to get meds sorted. Trying to get back to 85%. Trying to get back.

The world is a crazy place right now isn't it kids? It's all of a sudden not fashionable to be a white male or a white anything. At least that is what the paid journalists would like you to think. The beat goes on.

Who would have thought Kanye West would be the lesser of three bad decisions?

Is Covid the plague that will end us? Is it all hype? Live in fear.

Friends of Dennis Wilson, local Detroit surf/psych rock n' rollers have finally uploaded the breadth of their catalogue to Spotify, ITunes, etc. and they just released a new EP called the "DreamDrive EP". FODW and Black Lodge are probably my two favorite Detroit bands other than all of my own.

That's all for now jagoffs. Extreme Rules Horror Show is the Sunday. Livetweet? Review on Monday? Neither due to laziness/drunkedness? Stay tuned....

-jr