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 angry readers 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 municipal appearances and toss a custard pie into [redacted's] face. The plan would have failed anyway because the Whiner Club ......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...

Epilogue-
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
JAG
-jr
Vinnie Rawsonville
Melissa Misfit
Kentucky Pete

Altered Photographs

Eat Shit Franz Ferdinand

-jr

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.

https://www.expeditionsoapcompany.com/COVID19?fbclid=IwAR36hHgZELQLnsL2VxbQn8nY5aOsco6f95j743e9WCzcfHTJt53Mn_HR5s4

From the Iceman Commeth,
Bryan Metro

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 angry readers or 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

Pin-Ups

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.




-jr

Keep any eye out tonight

Wineheads in Coronatown. The Closing of the Sports Desk.

THEY TOOK THE BAR! THE WHOLE FUCKING BAR!- Animal House (1978)

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

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

A Public Apology

From the National Affairs Desk-

Hey all, Metro here. I would like to take this moment to apologize for not doing my traditional Hamtramck Music Fest preview of each band. My only real coverage of this year's event was me asking where the money was going this year, a few posts back. They have since corrected it and once again it is going to the schools. You're welcome for readers who care about things like that.

As for me I have been hunkered down in the JCMsTown Compound after 3 separate doctor visits last week. This would have actually given me the time to preview the acts playing the Fest, but I just didn't have it in me. This year's Fest has the least amount of buzz I have ever seen, so why bother? I did consider breaking out the Hazmat suit to get my money's worth and covering the Fest itself, but there is nobody I want to see. We are at rock bottom as a music community and it is all just boring. Like this post. Everybody stay healthy. Sorry.

In crowdsourcing news I do not endorse:
Sheefy is asking all white people to give a dollar to his cashme because of Black History Month. Fuck off. Just another example of begging in the year 2020. I thought he was banking by fake selling art. Guess not. Anyway I would look into it if cashme allowed for the "dollar bill trick".

Even worse are the Amino Acids who have a half-assed GoFundMe set up to scrap together a record that nobody is asking for. However, they are asking for $3500. Fuck off. Four grown adults playing lame space characters can't get 3k together to put out a record that'll end up in the red anyway. Yeah fly me to the moon and sign me up. Losers.  I'm not including either link because your money can be used for better things than an artist living in the land of hyperbole or a group of hasbeens who can't even put forth an effort into a semi-decent GoFundMe page....



From the Iceman Commeth,
Bryan Metro

The Coronavirus and Super Bowl Weekend

*This post is dedicated to Melissa, Outrageous Jean, and Elizabeth First, the three who encourage me the most to be as creative and chaotic as possible (as well as clocking out sooner than later; no wellness check needed, tis a joke), along with C and T, and Kentucky Pete, and Pops, who put up with my erratic behavior and 3am ramblings. Love you all.

*The following is satire, fiction, non-fiction (you decide what is real), social commentary and hopefully entertaining! It pained me having to type that...

Hey all Metro here. I was originally going to do this post in the Johnny Press persona but when you want something done, its best to do it right. I woke up Saturday, the day before the Big Game, not in Vegas unlike the dream I was having. My message feed was polluted by multiple texts from my contact from the suburbs, Fat Fuck Chris, asking if I was concerned about the Coronavirus outbreak, if I was going to cover the Coronavirus outbreak, and who was going to win the Super Bowl.
   "Dammit man, can't you see two hours and at least two beers before I can answer anything like that," I yelled into the phone and then replied, "Maybe, Yes, and San Francisco (ooops)". I then hopped online and ordered the cheapest fucking hazmat suit available. It didn't even come with a mask so I had my friend Outrageous Jean take me to multiple Cvs's. They were all sold out. Finally I found a box of 20 at a Walgreens. The clerk asked if I found everything I needed.
   "This is serious business. Here take one of these!" I stuttered at the check out (I have no memory of this happening. It was told to me later). After leaving the store and confusing the clerk with a $5 tip I came up with a "Man of the People" three question survey to ask random people regarding the virus over the next few days.

First up was the cemetery to visit my Pops. I figured a leopard print shawl, American Flag, and cool drink would be appropriate.

I decided to practice my interview skills with Dad.
Subject- Robert Sr. (Forever 64)-
Metro- "On a scale of 1-10 how worried are you about the Coronavirus?"
Robert Sr.- …………...
Metro- "Are you taking any precautions regarding the Coronavirus?"
Robert Sr.- …………...
Metro- "Are you familiar with the Hamtramck Music Fest?"
Robert Sr. (?)- "Who?"
I was stunned with the response and fell over and then saw the owl in the willow tree. But was it really? Did the owl say it? My glance turned to the fence where a bright cardinal was perched on. I knew who it was but still asked, "What's the score here?" The cardinal looked down at the fresh snow where something had written "This Is It". It was time to go.

Next up was Millers Bar in Dearborn, a personal favorite, for a burger and cool drink. Since there was a high probability of other people being there I donned one of my protective masks as the hazmat suit is not set to arrive until Monday unless the mailman contracts the fucking flu. After making my usual order of a burger and fries and two beers at the same time I conducted my first interview with Susan, the server.
Susan (32)-
Metro- "On a scale of 1-10 how worried are you about the Coronavirus?"
Susan- "We don't have menus."
Metro- "I understand. I'm a fan. Are you taking any precautions regarding the Super Flu?"
Susan- "Fries or rings?"
Metro- "Fries. Are you familiar with the Hamtramck Music Fest?"
Susan- "What? No."
By the time the food had arrived I was ravenous which led to me attempting to eat while forgetting my protective mask was still on. After the shouting (much of it mine) ended I ate quick and rushed out to find a bed.

Super Bowl Sunday-
I woke up realizing that four of the twenty protective masks had been already lost or destroyed. I decided to go to the bar to watch the Big Game. Due to the disaster at Millers the day before along with the hazmat suit yet to arrive, I was very paranoid. To ease my fears I brought a plastic grocery bag to tie around my head along with another protective mask (which was later lost).

After the first "What the fuck?" from the table next to me, along with the suffocation episode, I realized I had to split and quick. After reaching the car which was quite easy to find considering I had wrapped it in bubble wrap that morning, I raced back to the compound to catch the rest of the game. I managed to catch the full thing before things turned dark with my Fat Albert shirt, empty wine, various beer, and protective mask. I wasn't even able to unplug the Christmas tree which has yet to be retired.

Oh, my interview from the bar:
Alice (29)-
Metro- "On a scale of 1-10 how worried are you about the Coronavirus?"
Alice- "Probably 3."
Metro- (Giggling) "Ok I guess."
Alice- "Wait, okay, 5."
Metro- "Are you taking any precautions regarding the Coronavirus?"
Alice- "Drink pure water."
Metro- "Sound strategy. Are you familiar with the Hamtramck Music Fest?"
Alice- "No."

The Next Day-
I ran to grab the baseball bat when I heard the pounding at the door but was relieved to see it was just my hazmat suit being delivered. It was time to continue with the survey. I spent about 15 minutes with a roll of scotch tape trying to alter my appearance to look more Asian but gave up because I couldn't see shit.

The first stop was the movie theater, a suitable public place. I was singing "Lets go to the movies, lets go to the show," but it was muffled due to the protective mask (which was later lost). At the cinema I bought a ticket for "Little Women" and interviewed Bethany while forgetting to wear my Johnny Press hat to make sure she realized I was a journalist.

Bethany (26)-
Metro- "On a scale of 1-10 how worried are you about the Coronavirus?"
Bethany- "Well, a lot of people come through here. So about a 5."
Metro- (Doing my best Wayne Gale impersonation) "That's scary stuff. Are you taking any precautions regarding this Super Flu. Its bigger than AIDS dammit!"
Bethany- "I wash my hands a lot."
Metro- "Are you familiar with the Hamtramck Music Fest?"
Beth- "No."
Once in the theater I waited for the first poignant, serious moment in "Little Women" to erupt in a laughing fit followed by a serious method acting coughing episode which cleared out the theater. I had no interest in the rest of the movie so I left and headed to CVS, but not before the theater alerted security. It was a non issue because it was mall security and they saw I was a real nut job.

By this point at CVS I realized that I needed to be a paying customer or else management or even security would be all over me so I filled my cart with as much Airborne and cold medicine as possible which combined with the hazmat suit should have been enough to ease the fears of other shoppers yet they all vacated the aisle.

 I did manage to snag Karen for a quick hot take.
Karen (?)-
Metro- "On a scale of 1-10 how worried are you about the Coronavirus?"
Karen- "Please stay away."

(Writer's note- This is my favorite pic of the photo essay despite not putting the hazmat hood up.)

Well off to Meijer I guess. It worked out because I was running out of beer.

 I wanted to use the Johnny Press hat disguise again because there were cameras everywhere but I think I left it at the movie theater. It was uneventful mostly, but I did manage to chat with Crabby Rich in line.


Crabby Rich-
Metro- "On a scale of 1-10 how worried are you about the Coronavirus/"
Rich- "About 8 now that I see you."
Metro- "I'm safe. Are you taking any precautions regarding the Reaper?"
Rich- "Yeah, leaving this store."
Metro- "I can dig it. The spirits will be moaning tonight my friend. Are you familiar with the Hamtramck Music Fest?"
Rich- "What is this man?"

Jump, flash cut to Kroger. By this time I was hyperventilating inside of the hazmat suit so I gave it to a homeless guy (after doing the dollar bill trick) telling him that this is more valuable than any dollar. The derelict went into a coughing thing which caused me to bail, and fast. While at Kroger I went to stock up on cat food but then heard somebody sneeze behind me. Realizing the hazmat suit was long gone I immediately dropped into a barrel roll position. Thankfully I was wearing my uncle's military jacket.

 He had served in Korea....oh fucking shit. I don't have a map but Korea has to be close to China. I sprint to the closest, terrified, father of two raving, "This jacket has been to Korea. It needs to be scrubbed. Where can I have this done, man?" The children started crying and I ran. A confused employee asked if I needed any help. After another laughing fit......
Carl (65)-
Metro- "On a scale of 1-10 how worried are you about the Coronavirus?
Carl- "I'd say 2. Its all overseas."
Metro- "Good point. Fuck em. Are you taking any precautions regarding this plague?"
Carl- "I just come in to work."
Metro; "I love you. Are you familiar with the Hamtramck Music Fest?"
Carl- "Nah."

The last stop was the casino, ill-advised yet required. The hazmat suit would have been a great visual but it had already been given to the bum. Thankfully I had my disguise bin and grabbed the Ric Flair robe to avoid drawing attention to myself and because I was planning on betting on red

I eventually made it to the table games which did not last long.
Doug (44)- (Pit Boss/Employee)
Metro- "On a scale of 1-10 how worried are you about the Coronavirus?"
Doug- "People are uncomfortable."
Metro- "Right on. Great! Are you taking any precautions regarding the Super Flu?"
Doug- "Please leave the gaming area."
Metro- "Are you familiar with the Hamtramck Music Fest?"
Doug- "Is that who you are with?"
Metro- "No…...wait! Yes? (framed as a question). Yes. We are powered by the people for the people, and by god man, say what you will about me as a journalist, I am a man of the people. My name is Eugene. REPEAT IT AFTER ME! WHAT IS THE NAME?"

After being escorted out I sat in the car for a while. After crying, or maybe laughing, I went back to the compound to review the tape recorder and edit and type this. The tape recorder was useless; completely unusable with me muttering things like "Look at her skin. Has to be infected," or "We're in deep shit. They have infiltrated the catering department." At one point I had a five minute loop of me synchronizing "Doff It" with the slot machine blips. If I had kept the hazmat suit I would probably would have been in a different type of car. Instead, I am back at the Compound editing and typing this post with cool drink and trying to ignore the tickle at the back of my throat.


Postscript-
I know there are some who will find this post funny (or at least absurd), and many who will find it tasteless or ill-timed (no pun intended), so let me pull back the curtain and explain. Since the beginning I always intended to shock, but the goal was Never to be offensive (there's a difference). Many of my exploits can be seen as offensive, but never if you looked below the surface of things. I polled a few people regarding this post. Two relatives and one trusted friend said it was a bad idea. They all said "Bad idea". Others said it was interesting and funny. My relative had a decent counter argument, "Yeah because they're not doing it." I can dig that. Decent point, but I like the chaotic nature of this idea, and nobody else is doing anything like it around here. I think bringing a pressure cooker into Ferndale Public Library for a Blowout weeks after the Boston Marathon is far worse than this. That was not meant to make light of that horrific tragedy. Instead of nails and shrapnel I filled it with CD samplers of local bands playing the fest. That was the punchline, and a punchline that still exists to this day.
The cemetery sequence in this post could be seen as disrespectful to my Pops or the cemetery as a whole, but I don't see it that way. Pops never read this blog, but he was aware of my antics (he once bailed me out of jail after an incident at a softball game. I was not charged). He sometimes offered ideas. I used only a few, but I used some. I think he would find it funny to finally be included as a character in a post. Actually, he would probably say "I don't give a fuck," a good a mantra as any. As for the timing of the post regarding the Coronavirus. On the surface it could be seen as poor timing and/or insensitive, but below the surface is a main character who is bumbling (lil bit), enchanted by the media (sometimes), a drunk (Okay yeah, so sue me....NO! Wait!), and paranoid (lil bit). It is a commentary on paranoia, not on the flu. I have no obligation to explain myself and my ideas, but this time I wanted to. This was near the top of the posts I've had the most fun writing. I hope at least it was an entertaining escape for you. And if it wasn't.....I don't give a fuck.

From the Iceman Commeth,
Bryan Metro

Metro Escapes Detroit

"It will be a miracle if this goes off as planned..."

Hey all, Metro here. This was the first line of what was to be in my journal of adventures, but it was the only thing I wrote. Sorry, I'm in LiveJournal mode. I will try to make this as Milo-less as possible. Emphasis on "try". Don't worry, I tie it into the local scene.

I didn't think I would survive last week. On Tuesday me and Born Evil were to cover the first ever WWE night at the Wings game (Carmella, who shook my hand, was a peach in person). Then up at 4am on Wednesday to catch a 9:45am flight. The next four days were to be spent in Orlando for a wedding (I was in the bridal party as the Man of Honor). Then fly back the day after the reception (never a good idea).

Leading up to this death race I spent most of my time in bed worrying about the worst that could happen: The panic attack or seizure from not having a drink during the ceremony, engine failure on the plane, the hijacker with time management issues who waited until after the engine failure, the ominous call from the doctor back in Michigan saying "We need to see you as soon as possible", the raving madman wielding a baton at an Indian couple at the baggage claim, the father who vanished from the plane mid-flight, the fear when the stewardess says "The life vests are under your seats but you won't need them", the frustration at having forgotten to tape all of this week's Patty Winters Shows, terror at the realization you forgot the Xanax and more importantly, extra boxers, and you are in the middle seat and already starting to smell, and the worry about receiving additional court information. Just kidding on that last one, ha ha.

Medium-size story short- It went off fine, as planned which was a relief and also slightly disappointing in a weird way. Of course there were a few hiccups: Being pulled aside by TSA because I worse my wedding suit to save money and some brat behind me yelled "Its the Joker" (the suit was Lavender, duhhhh, with a green shirt and orange tie). There was also the vomiting in the hotel room after the reception, not because of too much drink, but because of a coughing fit. After cleaning the trash can like a true gent I lined it with a towel and put an index card on top simply saying "I'm back" in blood red lipstick that appeared out of nowhere.

There were also a lot of positive moments as well but the Constant Readers don't want to hear about that because that's personal and part of a different project. Switching to essay mode, I took two things away from this whirlwind week.
One- While in Florida I experienced a catharsis of sorts. For four days I had no laptop, no internet, no Facebook, and a bare bones burner phone in case I got lost/went missing. After Day 1 it was like I was out of detox. I felt great. I was no longer inundated with posts about the neighbor with a basement full of bones, how to reduce your debt, the catastrophic box office of the latest Ghostbusters...I mean Terminator movie, the economy, the plane whose engine had failed, and additional court information. Just kidding on that last one, ha ha. But it really was a cleansing feeling. Not once did I feel a panic attack coming on, but that could have been the constant beer being fed to me with the day usually starting with a voice saying "Here, Number 1". You should try it (minus the beer if you wish). Just disappear, even if it's here. Also, value your friends. I don't mean to sound like I'm lecturing. I don't want to be "that guy" who's now straight edge and feels the need to tell everybody how great it is as they all internally roll their eyes (nothing against sobriety, but it can be insufferable and pandering). I digress. Value your close one's. I don't have a bunch of friends (surprised?) but that's by design. So many people are boring (segue in 10...9....8...), but the friends I have mean so much and never take them for granted. This past week I reconnected with old friend Kevin Owens along with making a new one in Negasonic Teenage Warhead.

Two- When I got back to Michigan I was surrounded by a sense of emptiness. Don't get me wrong, I was happy to be home as my vacation quota is around four days before I completely lose it and roam. But after getting home, as The Writer, I need to write to make myself "level", and I saw that there was nothing at all (locally) to write about. I know its nearing the end of the year and things are lean, but wowie zowie, this is the worst I've seen it. The first thing I saw was a Hip In Detroit interview with Divorced Ryan Allen where he compared himself to Kurt Cobain and I spent the next two hours in the bathroom crying (no wellness check needed). What I am saying/asking is if there are any hot (local) topics that none of the local pussy journalists will touch, message or e-mail me. I made a promise to keep writing so give me something to work with: the sex scandal between ????, the record release show that's actually worth going to, the GoFundMe's that are worth contributing to, not the cash grabs like Electric Six or some revolting blob asking for money. Give me something to work with. Everything is so boring. Thus, I gift you with my most boring post of the year. Lets work together. I'll be your mirror.


I'm Back
Bryan Metro

Jack White's Baseball Bat and Summertime (Mild NSFW)

Hey all, Metro here and this post is a little bit of light and dark. It is a combination of the usual opinion and fiction and back to reality. I will admit it is a typical 2019 Metro post that is scattershot and follows the script of local stuff coverage with laughs that some of the Constant Readers enjoy along with some fiction and gore which some readers like and wrapping it up in that blue bow with real important things (which nobody cares about). I was also going to include a pop culture list but held off so I have something else to write. I will start off with this nugget that came across my desk today. I am writing on Saturday July 27th, 2019.

You obviously saw my post about the circle jerk sandlot baseball game sponsored/organized/cliqued by Jack White and Third Man Records. I spoke to a few who attended and they had a good time which is cool and there was no negative energy which is cool and donations were taken to benefit the park, Hamtramck Stadium, which is very cool. Now comes the swerve (you knew it was coming). There is now an auction set up for a limited amount of bats (50) signed by White  I immediately rolled my eyes at the starting bid of a predictable, yet still pretentious, $333.00. As of this writing on Saturday to be published Monday the 29th (Hi Robby Sr.!), the auction had zero bids and zero watches. I made a mental note that it was set up on July 24th and there were still zero bids (nor any social media promotion). In fact this post may be the first you are hearing about this which doesn't surprise me considering the quality of local scene reporting these days. Of course the first thing I noticed was that there was no contact information. Who is running this auction? Who set up the page? The verbiage on the page...oh wait, here is the actual link that has been active for days that I just saw on Saturday:   Buy My Bat!
Here is a photo of members of the team holding some of the bats, but not the bats you are bidding on because those were mass produced (or bought and painted) way before the game.

Smash cut back to the verbiage saying that a "portion" of the sales will benefit the field, the obvious angle. Actually it will go to the "Friends of Historic Hamtramck Stadium", which I didn't know even existed. You know where this is going.... I would feel more comfortable giving my hard earned minimum bid of $333.00 (ugh again) knowing what "portion" of the total fee is going to the field, and yes I understand that there are costs involved but these people have the money for it. A "portion"...spare me. Where's the rest going? Ben Blackwell's Weight Watchers account? We'll never know but its another example of the local music inferiority/martyr syndrome and now we switch to fiction for a bit before switching back to facts. Fiction:

                                                                  Summertime

My name is Patricia and I love my city, especially in the summertime (its my favorite season). I work two jobs, both of which don't pay the most but it helps pay the bills at least and sometimes I am able to go out and have some fun, see some bands, local art, the latest indie at Cinema Detroit or the blockbuster at the Bel Air (so I can watch people because that's what I really do). Detroit has always been a part of my life dating back to my birthday in 1985 and I have so many memories here. This is my town. I remember my first show at the Gold Dollar (I was underage but nobody cared), I remember riding the Boblo Boat for the last time in the summer of 1993 but don't remember any of the rides but I had fun just watching people (because that's what I really do). I remember bragging to friends outside of Wayne State's Old Main about my experience at the very first Metro Times Blowout and waiting for their reactions, watching them (because that's what I do), wondering if they realize it would have been impossible, and then making a decision that they were no longer my friends and one of them stopped showing up to the Economics class and I never saw her again. Nobody knows what happened to her (but what do you think?). It was summer and there were secrets and I was in the city and I think it was around 1999 and

"Summertime. And the living is easy. Fish are jumping and the cotton is high."

I'm much older now (but not really, I'm only 34) and I still love this town, especially all of the new stores and venues and restaurants and history and sometimes I like to just sit at Campus Martius sometimes on lunch break, from a job I do nothing at, watching everybody, families, happy people, the occasional bum, but they seem happy too. It makes me feel good to see everybody happy and makes me forget about attending the first ever Blowout. I'm just glad to see people happy. I've kept watch.

"Your daddy's rich, and your mamma's good looking. So hush little baby, don't you cry."

I receive a text message from Bryan Metro, a former co-worker, not exactly hot but charismatic which sometimes matters, and he jokingly sent me a link to an auction for a signed Jack White baseball bat from that circle jerk game the other week and I called somebody I knew who was involved in the play, I mean game, and they got me a baseball bat for free (I wasn't the only one) so now I have a new, unused baseball bat, and I think tonight is a great day to check out of work early and play some ball.

"One of these mornings you're going to rise up swinging. Then you'll spread your wings and you'll fly to the sky."

On Sunday, July 14th I decided to head out to people watch, maybe catch a show, eat out of an overrated food truck and I had already been to Eternal Tattoos to get my "Ms. 45 Home runs" ink on my thigh that no one will ever see and I had the Jack signed bat with me at the session and I still do and it is July and I see a young girl, probably 16 being followed by a man, probably around 32 and I am watching them.

"But till that morning, there's a'nothing that can harm you with daddy and mamma standing by."

The man eventually forced her into an alley and attempted to assault her. The demographic of the criminal doesn't matter and it would be a story that would bore you. This may turn into an attempted rape/murder and

"One of these mornings, you're going to rise up swinging. Then you'll spread your wings and fly to the sky."

It was then when I used the Jack White signed baseball bat to crack his fucking leg in two which was followed by the obvious strikes to his head. At this point the derelict, Marcus, actually started asking me for a job. I hit him again just for fun, shared a laugh with the (now empty) space where the victim was a minute ago, and then hit him again just for fun. After making sure the victim was gone I made him suck on the Jack White signed baseball bat for about two minutes longer than necessary but really, who cares and then I maced his face, not long enough to blind him but enough to make him look like he was crying (he already was by that point). I then whispered "I know where you live and its nowhere anymore," as he continued fussing. I then inserted a tire gauge up his ass for a final laugh and it didn't work and I don't know where it came from.

"But till that morning, there's a'nothing that can harm you. With daddy and mamma standing by."

It's now July 18th and I took another half day at the office not that it mattered to anyone because nobody knows when I'm there, so I'm just walking around town, Hamtramck, the usual, and the sun is already down and I'm humming Christmas carols just loud enough so people can hear me, notice, question, move on, and I see a limping man, around 32, and I circle the block to get a better look because he is so fucking slow and he has an eyepatch and I recognize him from my intervention a few days ago and now he's trying to break into a house. I immediately clipped him is his (poorly) bandaged leg (materials most likely stolen from the Jos. Campau CVS), and when he saw me he started crying for real this time (I had left the mace in the car). Of course he started babbling, whining, begging (again), probably sounding like his intended victims. He mentioned his broken leg which was a cue to hit it again hoping to rupture all the pins or splints there and then got depressed because he probably didn't have any. To cheer myself up I hit him in the head again, aiming for the eyepatch, and then made him suck on the Jack White signed baseball bat again for old times sake and way too long this time and then I hit him again with it officially sending into lucid zone, still crying, and he turned to me and said, "You know my mother is going to say that I was a good person," and then I chuckled and said, "I do know that, I've seen this story before. I'm not going to let you become a headline or a Twitter trend. I'm just going to let you drift into the purgatory of becoming a stereotype", and then I went back to the car and came back (the stupid bastard barely made an effort to move) and maced him again just because.

                                              Summertime and the living is easy

                                                *End of Fiction Back to Real.

Hey all, Metro back. The previous was a work of fiction. However the events described did happen. They happened this month. Received a little local coverage, but not a lot. Unfortunately a local girl at the age of 34 named Patricia, a watcher, part-time vigilante, and owner of a Jack White signed baseball bat was not there. That part didn't happen. I have to stress the previous section was fiction and did not include demographics, but these assaults happened this month, and that other month, and at that one Blowout.
 Oh here are the links because this really happened:
Don't walk alone.......
And I'm the one being sued.

Just keep in mind that nobody is actively caring about these incidents because it corrupts/fractures the narrative (I saw zero posts about it on my social media feed; they had to be sent to me), nor did anybody during the Blowout abduction/assault, but oh my lord did you see the latest tweet from so and so and we should just focus on baseball, local fields that really aren't used, and just remember to blink.

It's Summertime but the Iceman Commeth,
Bryan Metro

The First Chapter/Act of Metro's Screenplay "Piss Bag"

Hey all, Metro here.  With the success of "A Quiet Place" and "Bird Box"  I have decided to rip off/write a screenplay/novel called "Piss Bag".  And as a bonus to the Constant Readers here is the first chapter!!



It all started in the summer. At first it was only covered by TMZ and Reddit and most of society laughed it off, but as more and more people died everybody started to take notice.

My name is Ben, and I am currently trapped in a bathroom at MidCi in Sherman Oaks, Ca, along with my wife, an African American named April, her daughter from a previous relationship Roont (bi-racial), our son Logan, and our adopted Asian daughter Finn.  We have no idea how long we have before TIME RUNS OUT!

When the mainstream media finally caught on they called it "The Nose Pop", and it started that summer. At first it was a few deaths here and there, but then it started to gain traction. Famous scientists from around the globe concluded that the fatality epidemic was being caused by a neurological reaction to foul smells. This is when the panic began. Thousands lost their lives by trying to be proactive and plugging their noses which resulted in a multitude of asphyxiation deaths that CNN termed "The Suicides". My family tried to maintain life as usual, but every now and then whenever I passed a dumpster or an Indian restaurant, the boils would start popping up on my arms.

Yet still, I refused to give in to this mysterious, unexplained plot point epidemic. And because of this is why I am stuck in this bathroom now.  It was my mistake refusing to acknowledge an obvious MacGuffan and took my family to get pizza at MidCis.

Everything was going great until the asshole next to us orders one of those custom jobs with next to everything on it. Almost immediately, the entire restaurant erupts into mass chaos.  The businessman at the window table cut off his tongue with a fountain pen.  Nicky, that Italian greaseball and everybody's favorite regular, had his stomach cave in as he was rushing to the door. With Nicky's 350 lbs blocking our only exit I realized we had to work fast. The couple to the left of us started to disrobe for one last time before their hands fell off. I noticed that our daughter Roo's hair had begun falling out so we had to act quick. So I gathered the family, along with a few other survivors: Tully, the transgender artist, Betty, the lesbian who lives next door, Randy, the failed musician, Outrageous Mike, the model, Trent, who lives in that house near the beach, and Zoro, who we call Zoro because nobody knows his real name but he is Mexican.

So here we are. A stalemate. Stuck inside of a bathroom. Right now I can hear the screaming outside.  Thankfully it only lasts for a few minutes and the screams are replaced by the sounds of chewing. I went to comfort my wife April but she was on her phone with her broker. I was sure the kids would need their father figure, but they were pre-occupied with some game on their tablets.

Tully, the tranny, was the first to crack. He turned on all the water faucets and started to scream for help. Already knowing that smell can kill you, I immediately questioned whether sound can as well, so I choked Tully until he stopped moving, and just to be sure, I removed his eyes in case sight can doom us.

By this point, I was three beers in at the restaurant along with the six I had before we left.  Thankfully, we are trapped in a bathroom, waiting it out.  I go back to April, who is finally off her goddamn phone, to tell her that I have to go take care of "Hungry Harry" and will be back once I relieve myself. I make sure to check on the rest of the survivors as well.  Tully has passed away most likely due to the smell ingestion before getting into the bathroom.  That would be my best guess. I then receive the coldest chill of my life when I reach the urinal, with my equipment already out, "Hungry Harry" ready to spurt.  My worst fear has come true.... A Piss Bag.

So that's it!  The first chapter of the soon to be hit movie and my next book.  What happens next? How long can the characters last? When is too much for the Piss Bag and it breaks? Jeeze, this screenwriting stuff is easy!

From the Iceman Commeth,
Bryan Metro

Ok, I'll say it. Sugarman Rodriguez Fucking Sucks

I swear 2016/2017 must be the year(s) of the local music scene being a joke (actually it goes farther back probably to 2008 when I fronted a band, sold out numerous Blowouts/festivals, won a Detroit Music Award, etc.).

I saw just now that Sucksto Rodriguez aka Sleepy...I mean Sugarman has two shows scheduled this Saturday April 22nd, one at the Crofoot and one at the Old Miami.  I have been monitoring the event sites and numerous people have said they have tickets and if the shows are really happening.  ZERO response from either venues.  Now my band has sold out both venues in the past and they are good people, but I really think that nobody knows whats going on.....which is typical from Rodriguez. 

A many few of my music journalist friends have said that he is impossible to work with and actually charges money for photos and interviews (when he isn't shielded by his PR crew....that's what an Oscar Nom gets these days).  And typically with scam artists these days, he is charging $30-35 for the Crofoot show and $20 for the Old Miami show.....

This is a "man of the people"???  Has the Old Miami charged $20 for anything????

Ok, in a nutshell, Rodriguez sucks.  Allow me to elaborate if you care to read.....

The geezer has thrown his hat in the Detroit mayor race before and actually HAS DONE IT AGAIN! in 2017.!!??!!

Lets be honest and non-PC here.  The dude has been milking the South Africa gimmick for 5 years now, although I think its just his "handlers" who prop him up for shows, and who are probably the real criminals here, and here's a throwback.... the dude had no idea his music was being used without his permission, yet some want him to be Mayor????  This city never fails to impress.

I have never heard a Rodriguez song in my life, and I do keep tabs on music and film.  To be honest, I actually feel bad for the guy.  All these leeches and scabs using the "easy" narrative to line their pockets. 

And that will happen April 22nd at both the Crofoot and Old Miami.  Depending where you decide to go, have a good one!

Have I ever lied to you....
Bryan Metro 

Queen Kwong (local music scene) is a joke...

This scene is a joke.

So here's the story and I'll spin it quick:

L.A. band with a self-indulged frontwoman who takes nude pics to try to "get over the hump" which fails (but hey I'm not judging), and then hooks up with a 90's relic from Limp Bisquit and it finally gains some steam.

They decide to "move" to Michigan and is a featured act at the "largest local music festival investigated by the IRS" the Hamtramck Music Festival.  They had a few supporting shows before the Fest but after the Fest.....absolutely nothing.  Way to go Michigan.

Next up is a UK tour financed by Wes Borland's Visa followed by a "new record" which nobody will be able to name a song from.

They're like a tick.....chomp down on a local music fest (advertised as volunteered but were they paid????) and then disappear.

So Queen Kwong....fuck off.  Age is going to hit you hard...

So make a t-shirt about that, airhead...

There are absolutely ZERO local music writers who give a shit anymore. I understand the need to be positive about local music, but just ignoring all the bullshit going around is inexcusable. If you call yourself a "music journalist" and turn a blind eye to the terrible stuff that is going around and just co-opting press releases and sugar coating everything.....well fuck. And to you, I say, Fuck you too. There's no opinion anymore. You're welcome.

Oh, and just to reiterate how much of a joke this is.  I hope every act that played the "largest local music festival being investigated by the IRS" takes a good look at this pic.

Great job EVERYONE!

Follow the Buzzards
Bryan Metro

Fapdate

It's the eve of the first day of October and I'm waivering on whether or not I'm going to do the daily movie review. Noone cares except our sycophants. I take a look at Facebook for the first time in a long time. The self promotion monsters that are my friends disgust me. Noone cares except our sycophants. What is the point of creating all this music, media, and art?  If fame is the game we're in the wrong city.  If it's an ego boost, doesn't that get old after a certain age or after the 800th performance to a room with maybe 20 people you are directly or Inderectly acquainted with?  All the back patting and ass kissing is just a giant suckfest that makes me shudder whenever witnessed. The only time we made a worthwhile monetary return was when we knew nobody, hated everybody, and mercilessly preached our opinion on this inconsequential purple blog with yellow arial font.  Hip in detroit is just the worst. Anyone that says otherwise is full of shit. The new metro times double wide is pretty close in suckitude.  Everything is shit. Everything is an upvote on reddit, a like on Facebook, a repost on tumblr.  Everyone wants the reacharound but they don't want to take it up the ass to get there.  I hate all of you. Your music is subpar if not unlistenable. You can hardly frame a complete sentence.  I'm not saying we're any better. The human centipede of ass kissing is pathetic. But hey, noone cares except our sycophants.

Dash -

Kelly Oxford Quote of the Day

Okay thousands of readers, I am creating a new segment on the Lavender blog because there is a parasite out there worse than any scrutiny for any local bands.  Bitch's name: Kelly Oxford.  She has a book coming out titled, "I Went on Internet While My Husband Made Money" and she is imploring her sycophant twitter followers to buy it.  She's basically Chelsea Handler Coke Zero.  So I figured I would start up a weekly column called "Kelly Oxford Quote of the Day".  This is an actual quote from her.  I will let you decide if it is condescending, introspective, or just plain dumb and out of her element.

Kelly Oxford Quote of the Day:  "It’s a very long process. Now I understand this whole idea of movies being a labor of love. I used to hear about movies taking eight years to get made and wonder, “Why does it take so long?” Now I understand why."

Ladies and gentlemen....Kelly Oxford.


From the Iceman Commeth,
Bryan Metro

Moving Forward

Hey Slurries,
It's been quite the busy week over here at the JCM Lavender HQ.  So far we've bitched about Bleached, outed the Jamaican Queens, and Deastro'ed CJonst.  So where does that leave us?
Well, now that we're getting back into the swing of things, I am pleased to say that we will now be doing daily updates instead of the normal monthly one's.  What type of content can you look forward to?  You tell us! 
Want more free new music downloads from the Checker's label?  You got it!
How about some more chapter previews of my debut novel, "The Invisible People"?  I can do that!  Hmmm, does some more fraud exposing, hypocrite announcing, truth seeking sound good to you?  Sounds good to me! 
Our most popular period during the Lavender's five year history was when I was running the daily pop culture lists.  Want some more of those?  Survey says, Yep! 
Or perhaps you would be interested in us making fun of someone that is physically different from us.  Too easy! 
The fact is, you never know whats around the corner so keep your eyes open..

From the Iceman Commeth,
Bryan Metro

well we made the news (in Tuscon)***updated***

***if you would like to send your discontent to hitler aka Randy Pullen, click here


"Yada Yada Politics
Tucson's and Arizona's Political Mud Puddle
State GOP chair no fan of ‘Los Faggots’
by Mark B. Evans on Jun.30, 2010, under Politics

Sound Strike Rings Hollow
Phoenix, AZ – As various artists, musicians and entertainers jump on the boycott bandwagon to protest Arizona’s new immigration law, Arizona Republican Party Chairman Randy Pullen questioned the motives of an industry who also suffers from those who ignore the laws of the land.

“So often we hear celebrities weigh in on political issues of which they lack a fundamental understanding of the issue,” said Chairman Pullen. “While they are certainly entitled to express their opinion, I would expect that they would at least have one that is consistent. Musicians and artists justifiably complain about copyright infringement and those who willfully ignore the law when it comes to stealing intellectual property. Is it beyond reason to expect citizens and foreign visitors to abide by federal law when it comes to immigration policy?”

According to various news reports, a group of entertainers have joined together to boycott Arizona in protest of SB 1070. Whether or not the artists actually had scheduled shows in Arizona remains unclear and unreported.

“It’s surprising that these people are so out of touch with the overwhelming numbers of Americans that support the bill,” continued the Chairman. “With such high-profile acts such as the Jesus Chainsaw Massacre, Los Faggots and Anti-Flag, I’ll be surprised if all our concert halls and entertainment venues don’t immediately close their doors.

“I would argue that our situation is similar to having someone sneak into their concert without a ticket,” said the Chairman. “I’m curious if these artists sing a different tune when it comes to security at their shows. Nowadays, concert security search people more thoroughly than Border Patrol. Seems a bit hypocritical to me.

“I respect their right to oppose the federal law that will now be enforced in Arizona,” said Pullen. “But with nearly two dozen of other states considering implementing the measure, where they are going to play? Canceling non-existent shows in Arizona is one thing, butbacking out of real gigs? Now that would be sending a message to the fans who support your livelihood.”


Political High Horse

Review of my bandmate's friend's breasts, and the Stella show 12/06/08

This weekend was alright. After not sleeping I found myself at my apartment awaiting JR so that we could predrink (5 Hours!) before the show. He brought my Xmas gift early, a 5 CD changer with MP3 port! I listened to the radio all day Sunday. But I'm getting ahead of myself. We showshoed to Ann Arbor and met up with Peter Mantos of Roll the Dice/Fiberglass fame fresh from Cincy, and their friend Suzanne. We ate a bottle of wine (6 Hours now), and I tried not to get caught staring at Suzanne's breasts. Seriously, she had possibly the best breasts I've seen all year. Even layered with December/Michigan clothing, they just would not quit. 

 We hiked to the Stella show, and found out it was sold out so Suzanne couldn't get in. (JR, Peter, & myself had pre-ordered tickets.) I contemplated giving her JR's ticket but it was he who bought them so she left to continue drinking (bummer). The Stella show was a blast and the parts I caught while not daydreaming about this girl's breasts were hilarious. They had music, skits, videos, audience participation; everything. We got to hang out with them afterwards, and it was all good. We went downstairs after the show to the 8 Ball and met up with Suzy. I believe the Friendly Foes were sitting in the booth behind us. After an hour or so, I was completely blitzed, probably due to the large amount of alcohol I had consumed along with my anti-anxiety medicine. I got into a funk. I wanted to go dancing or karaoking, but everyone was burrowed in the 8 Ball like ticks. I got (needlessly) frustrated and went upstairs. I caught a few songs from the Friendly Foes ( boring), and then went back downstairs. Everyone hadn't changed their opinion so I went back upstairs. Charlie Slick was playing. I actually was intrigued to see this because I haven't seen him live before, and the photos I've seen paint it as quite the fun live act. Maybe it was my near overdose, but I was underwhelmed. Same old, same old naggy electro pop "Yeahhhh Michigan" short people music except with a fan. This guy played with Crystal Castles??!! I think I bought gummie bears from this guy at the Emagine the other day. Next.

 
So by this time, I was completely out of it, and seeing the confetti brought back bad memories so I left to go to the Heidelberg to see Tokyo Sexwhale and Inkface. The camera crew setting up for some documentary couldn't tell me which way to go so I merged with two girls who walked me there and all I could think about was how cold it was. I came in at the tail end of Sexwhale's show and was not surprised to see that the Classics kids had already started setting up near the back, and were already bleeding one of the members of The Go and in the corner was a pile of clothes and what looked to be pink and grey ribbons of skin. I said my hellos (The Classics kids were a couple years ahead of me at school). Oddly enough, I had no trouble finding my way back to the Pig which now seemed to be on fire. I saw JR, Peter, and Ann walking to the car as people were racing from the burning building screaming, melting. One of the Classics kids, Henry, was running after a couple wielding an ancient looking Satterle's bone saw (28.5 cm) with detachable blade (20cm). It looked like he was wearing one of the Dirtbombs' old guitarists which would have taken way longer to stich together than the time it took me to go to the Heidelberg and back and this made me think, "He must've had the bodysuit for a few days now." I stopped to chat with Michael Ian Black from Stella who was sucking on what looked to be an ear like it was an orange. I guess the Classics kids stopped here before hitting the Heidelberg. I trudged through the snow (and confetti) and we ended up back at Ann's place.
(The following segment has been removed via the better judgement of BM as it would have definitely been wayyyyy too much)
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It looked like she had a glass vial in her hand and I asked to see her face. She shook her head and left the room. I stumbled into the living room where JR, Peter, Ann, and some of the Classics kids were trying to get the CD player to work. Bunny was eating a NerdsRope but I knew it probably was the spine of a small animal, possibly a ferrit, dipped in candy, as she has been known to partake in such delicacies.
I don't remember getting home, but on Sunday I had a hangover for the first time in 'who knows when'. I shook the remaining confetti from my winter coat and thought, "This weekend was alright."


From the Iceman Commeth
BM