Last Tango at the New Dodge-Part 1: A Litany of Requests

 From the National Affairs Desk-

   Hey crew, Metro back. I hope everyone had a fun Super Bowl weekend. I broke even at the Sports Desk so whatever, but now that Football Season is over we need to get back to reality. Yes, trains and trucks are flipping over releasing hazardous chemicals into the air, and UFO's are being spotted everywhere, and mass shootings continue to happen, but the last post regarding the New Dodge Lounge was the most clicked post since our retirement show last year which was at... the New Dodge Lounge. All a simulation. I don't mean to discount or slight the latest news cycles, especially the horrific shooting at MSU, but I feel that everyone has gotten their fill, said what's on their mind, and might just want an escape. I have to stress, I don't get paid to write here. We make no money off this. We are too lazy to enable ad's for ad dollars. Nobody buys our music. So, it is time to cash in.

   I, and the JCM, have been contacted by possibly the New Dodge about possibly coming out of retirement and doing a show there. Basically, they might be trying to call our bluff, that isn't a bluff, but plays like a bluff. Here's the deal: Nobody goes to a JCM show for the music. If they dare show their face it is to see what kind of madness occurs. What is the theme going to be? What is the stunt? Who gets the "Augie/Hard Lessons/Carolin Kicked Out of a Show Memorial spot"?

   I have said it before, but the JCM does not draw bodies or social media "likes" (unless it is a Blowout or a Hamfest where we usually do quite well). Many people, many being friends, don't really want to be linked to us by clicking a "like" button, or, gasp, be seen at a show. People have been doxxed and called out for that very reason (Hi former Metro Times writer Callwood!). We are okay with this. For 16 years (!) we have never cared about making this a career. We just wanted eyes, wanted to influence the "scene" (whatever that means), wanted to get people talking, wanted to see how worse it can get. So, it is time to cash in.

   Quick recap- The New Dodge Lounge is under new management. The JCM has never had a bad time at the New Dodge Lounge. My gut feeling is that the new owners may have thought that owning and running a bar/venue in our "beloved enclave" of Hamtramck would be a prosperous endeavor. However, the new owners may not have realized that the local scene has been D.O.A. since around 2016, and lets not use the pandemic as an excuse.

   The new owners, let's be fair here, "entertained" the idea of having the acts playing sell tickets for their own show, and if not, pay a $150 fee to the venue. This is a business model that hasn't been effective since 2007, and even then only for local acts wanting to hop on a bill with a national touring act. I love the New Dodge, but Franz Ferdinand, even 2023 Franz Ferdinand, is not going to be playing the New Dodge. This is covered in full in the previous post. There was some blowback, lil bit, some people resigned, some bands dropped out, and the morons at the Metro Times did a puff piece trying to placate all parties, but instead put out the most vanilla piece of journalism of the year thus far (although Jeff Milo is always waiting in the wings). *Update!!!!

  So the New Dodge, or at least somebody claiming to be from the New Dodge, decided to call our bluff, that isn't a bluff, but plays like a bluff, and invite the JCM to play a show. Now that we are caught up we can get all present day with our response. The JCM is considering it, so much so that we have come up with a list of deman.....errr requests, a "rider", in order for us to play. Before I get to them I want to say one more thing regarding the New Dodge; I dig the place. I also understand if bands want to drop out. However, I do Not agree with anybody calling for a boycott of the venue. Just stop. No. Just stop. That is just stupid and is hurting the bands that are playing there. This isn't 2020; take that nonsense to Chicago or something. That said, it is time to cash in.

JCM's Rider For Playing the New Dodge in 2023

*Disclaimer- It sucks I have to do these disclaimers but the following is 80% satire, 20% truth. If anyone has an issue with anything in it, feel free to e-mail the band at bryanmetro1@hotmail.com and I will remove anything you may have found offensive. The request list is actually a "greatest hits" of some of our favorite subjects, most of whom the new owners won't even recognize, but the Constant Readers might have a laugh. Okay, lets goooooo!

1. We are Not selling tickets.

2. As referenced in the previous post, we need to be buffered by acts that draw actual bodies based on their music. We will bring the smoke but the best JCM business model for...errrr, business they will be depended on for the music. We'll take care of the rest.

3. The JCM must have final sign off on the bill. Also, the bill will need to have a clever title, something like "Revenge of the New Dodge". That one was for free, anything else will need bonus bucks.

4. If we were curating the show, our preferred lineup, one that was curated by JCM core members Bryan Metro and -jr, would be some permutation of Sisters of Your Sunshine Vapor, The Beggars, Duende, Vazum, The Strains, any act with the chick from White Shag in it, Vellows, or the Hourlies.

5. Further lineup deman....requests: Both the Hourlies and Vellows cannot play. It can only be one as they seem to play every show together. Also, if The Strains are included there must be a clause where they agree to drop out a week before the show to drum up word of mouth and a replacement will be added (as long as it is not both The Hourlies and Vellows). Caveman Woodman and Drip Drip can do a pop-up set outside the venue, but we have other ideas for him.

6. The JCM goes on second from last. This is non-negotiable.

7. The show can only be held at or after the end of March due to logistics and scheduling.

8. We would like a space set aside for the Eugene and Hamtramck Music Fest Tax Advice Booth.

9. We would like to take a 15 minute break in between sets for a "What Dat Mouf Do?" vegetable-throating contest hosted by special guest MC Big Chicken.

10. We would like to request Greg Aubrey as the sound guy for the evening, but only if he agrees to give gluten-free explanations of the sound set-up in between sets as long as he doesn't interfere with the "What Dat Mouf Do?" competition mentioned above.

11. We would like space set aside for my personal bootlegger and Wizard, Kentucky Pete to set up his official stolen/bootlegged merch (10% to the venue for risk purposes).

12. We would like for Lee M. or Record Store Kid (only if the Hourlies aren't playing) to work the door checking ID's so nobody sneaks in without paying.

13. This was one of the most requested requests, which makes it a little too obvious: The M & M's. But it has to be included, but with a twist. Instead of having all the brown M & M's removed (this isn't 1968) we would like for every color to be represented equally.

14. Out back, we will need a Hamtramck Steve dunk tank. Moving on.

15. We will have to touch base and mend fences with unknown local hip hop artist 1magine to stage a protest for the show for not including any hip hop acts. But he would have to do it on a day when the venue is closed.

16. We will also need a space for the Lisa James Kissing Booth/Tent/Pavillion. It is preferred that this space not be close to the sound guy area.

17. We will need a section of the venue set aside for a Sheefy McFly art exhibit where you can view/purchase various Keith Haring tribute portraits.

18. There will be a need for food. We will need a BBQ grill with a 10 lb bag of Kingston easy light charcoal for the sidewalk hot dog stand. The stand will be run by Ben Collins and will only serve hot dogs.

Woodman will be the barista but only when he is on break from his sidewalk pop-up. The food is to be provided by Hip in Detroit.

19. We will also need to secure an agreement with the Checkers across the street for bottomless fries for Metro, -jr, and Asian bass player Wang.

20. And just because he needs the work, in addition to working the hot dog stand, Woodman can also host a pumpkin carving pop-up. But outside! Far outside. No knives will be provided.

21. Also outside, but farther down the street, we will need a space for the tambourine player Elizabeth First's abortion clinic/dispensary combo.

22. Back inside, we will need space for the George Morris time out/sleep zone, preferably far away from the stage. George Morris not near a stage plz.

23. We will need a safe space for the Ryan Allen/DJ Marcie Bolan (who hopefully would also spin during the "What Dat Mouf Do?" segments) Booster Booth. It is possible that during the JCM set people may want to leave and maybe go to, like Smalls, which has a proof of vaccination mandate. Oh wait, they don't any more? Weird. What happened/changed? Maybe we can scratch this request then (lose Allen/keep Marcie). I'm sure most of our audience has worse viruses to worry about anyway.

The Ukraine flag was a nice touch. In Vegas we would call that a social media parlay.

24. We will need a space sectioned off for the Queen Kwong Photo Booth. Caveat- Only tasteful photos please. $5 surcharge for a Metro appearance in the photo as he will be hovering around most of the time.  [Promo photo has been REDACTED]

25. We will need a space near the new arcade games for the Sadoffsky E-Girl Booth to discuss video games and pop culture in case you are bored with the music.

24. Finally, none of JSB's 7 bands until proof can be provided that the WAB employs a person of color.

So that about does it for our requests; not entirely unreasonable. Some are negotiable, but others are ironclad. Which are which? One day you may know. I would like to close with three things...

A- One of my favorite moments doing this was around 2017 when I received a direct message from somebody in a local band. I did not know them personally nor follow their band. They said, "You ribbed us, totally ripped us. We have officially made it!" It was sincere, even a little touching. So everything up there is mostly a rib, some harder than others. Deal with it. The most read local music site is talking about you.

B- Support your local artists, even if they hate us, and/or we find them insufferable. Support your local venues as well. Boycotting accomplishes nothing and is a cancer. We don't need the city to become as emaciated as the current print copy of the Metro Times.

C- And the most important thing is to just have fun. It's not that difficult. Actually, that may not be true. People tend to prefer to be miserable these days. If you are one of these people this show is not for you. Actually, it might be. Maybe. Anyway, thanks for reading!

Oh wait! I almost forgot. As I said earlier, I don't make any money from this site, but if you do want to support local art, my debut novel "The Invisible People" is out now and available for sale.

 There are some other books out there by local artists, and by all means seek them out if you want, but if you want to help support the site and this local artist feel free to seek it out at TheBookPatch.com or at this link:    The Invisible People

It is priced reasonably at $13 and the distribution is directly through the publisher. I don't have stacks of books laying around to be shipped out. I do not receive any personal information about anybody who buys it, so don't worry about that either. It is a weird book, fiction, part drama, thriller, comedy but not a comedy, romance, faux-romance, and horror story. Back in 2010 people said I would never come out with a book, but I did after all. Anyway, I'm starting to ramble and the sun is starting to rise. See you soon. Maybe...

From the Iceman Commeth

The Boy Next Door

Dr. Bryan Metro

Fear and Loathing On Paczki Day- What is Happening With New Dodge

 From the National Affairs Desk-

   The sun is starting to rise which is usually my cue to lay down and sleep until 3, but I have been stewing all day because the scum also rises, and I am trying to come up with a lede/lead for this post. Ehhh whatever, let's just jump right into it....

What the hell is going on with the New Dodge Lounge in Hamtramck?

Jump, flash cut, to yesterday afternoon, around 3, and I wake up to multiple messages regarding the Metro Times article regarding the New Dodge Lounge housed in our beloved "enclave" of Hamtramck, MI, USA. I groaned, hit the snooze button, screen a call from Kentucky Pete asking when the hell I am going to post the review of the W.A.S.P. show from last year, but I still couldn't fall back asleep. The thought was racing through my head, "What the hell is going on at the New Dodge?"

Okay, so if you are new to the dance, last year the New Dodge underwent a change of ownership. I don't have every single bit of the logistics but basically the booker left and the owners threw up their hands and decided to sell. This was after a D-list nobody named 1magine tried to shut them down because his hip hop showcase was moved. (Update, the waterhead was never heard from again). The owners said, "Fuck this" and sold, the booker took a leave, and then the JCM stepped in to play the final show, and our final show, under the old ownership of the New Dodge.

Full disclosure- I've never had a bad time at the New Dodge. The location is optimal, very close to a JCM staple, Checkers. We have played there multiple times and were always treated well. The below average sound system actually played to our advantages. But we are retired and the times they are a changin'.

Okay, let's cut to the chase. The current controversy is that the new owners wanted to implement a "pay to play" deal, the death knell of anyone who plays music. Bands weren't happy, employees weren't happy, and I'm not happy because it's Super Bowl weekend, the end of football season, and I am writing.

Anyway, even the corpse of the Metro Times decided to write about it, in the most vanilla way possible. To be fair, they basically did most of the leg work for me so I am going to give the link here. I hate linking to the Metro Times because it gives them ad dollars and actually this site probably gets more hits than them anyway, but take a minute to read this. It comes off as fair on the surface, giving all parties a chance to state their case. But sometimes you need to slide down the surface of things. Here is the link (Metro Times, the check better be in the mail):

Half-assed Article

Okay, done? Yes, very vanilla. After ripping on the New Dodge's "reputation" they gave both sides a chance to state their case. That's fine. I have no problem. The business is to make money. What grabbed my attention was some of the direct, published, quotes, that called it "just a misunderstanding". Or was it? This is the point in the game where you should start paying attention.

The Metro Times, despite being a dying entity, did an okay job on their post. It was fair to both sides (a signature of stellar journalism), but they left out one glaring detail. And that is where I swoop in to pick up the scraps. I have acquired the e-mail that was sent from the New Dodge management. Here, have a look. Lavender Blog Exclusive:

Okay, done? Not very vanilla, and a bit to unpack. Here is my issue: I know for a fact that the Metro Times had a copy of this e-mail before they published. They even cherry-pick and reference it. My issue is that the Metro Times posted a direct quote, published, from the co-owner, and I quote, "We are not a pay to play place." despite having an actual document that says (and I quote), "Bands that are booked for Fri. & Sat. have to commit to selling at least 30 tickets; the absolute minimum". And then, regarding the "off-nights", they say, "Bands pay $150 out of pocket or bring their own speakers/equipment for no charge." And then there's this beaut: "They are welcome to put out a tip jar." Ummmm, what? Gross.

With that out of the way, based on the e-mail, how is that not "pay to play"? Why did the Metro Times, who had the e-mail, not at least inquire about the e-mail to produce a completely fair take? But let's face it, the Metro Times is the equivalent of a tapeworm at this point; skinnier than me.

So, we're back at the start. Where/what is the lede/lead? I think it goes both ways. In the article I referenced above, Paul from The Strains, the band that dropped out of Paczki Day, said, "I want to see local venues succeed". I agree. This is not a New Dodge burial. I want them to thrive. I like the place. But this just seems like Tom Gores buying the Pistons and not knowing what to do with it. It sucks because every venue has their issues. Smalls is going to make bank on Paczki Day and this is after implementing a vaccine pass/negative test mandate that was quietly removed despite being open (backdoor/parking lot) during the lockdown.

I want the New Dodge to succeed and I want the new ownership to realize that you are not going to make any money in Hamtramck unless you live in Dearborn and are well versed in real estate. Your best, and safe, bet is just to break even. Create some memories. Ahhhh okay, we have our lede/lead finally:

The local scene is dead. It sucks (the fact, not the local scene), I know, but there is no way you can swing a pay to play paradigm at this point. It is not 2007. The local scene here has been dead probably since around 2016 when we put the stake in the Metro Times Blowout. It is unfair to expect bands that don't promote themselves outside of Facebook posts to rescue it. There are bands out there that are trying, god bless them, like The Strains, who seem to play every fucking weekend and pollute my timeline, and then there's the Hourlies and Vellows who have a clause that they can only play with each other (no pun), but the reality is this is stagnant. Who is going to rise up? JSB? He's had 7 opportunities to break through. Swing, miss. Ryan Allen has been writing the same song for the past ten years. Woodman is lovable but a novelty regulated to doing pop-up shows, Jack moved out of town, and Jason is working in real estate.

So where does that leave us? Easy answer: The Jesus Chainsaw Massacre. Here is the call to action. New Dodge, by now I know I have your attention. Let's put it to the test. JCM on a Friday or Saturday. We're not selling any tickets. We wouldn't be able to sell 30 anyway, but if you pack the lineup, we will waive our appearance fee, especially since we are retired. It worked out well with the Orbitsuns. We're not selling shit, but what I can offer you is word of mouth. That is what I am giving you here, and that just might be more valuable than a drink ticket.

So to close, Metro Times grow a pair, local acts for god's sake do better, New Dodge sort it out, and for one more time....Best in the Woooorrrld.

From the Iceman Commeth,

The Boy Next Door

Dr. Bryan Metro

The Ultimate Face Turn-In Defense of Queen Kwong

 *The following is an Op-Ed, opinion piece, and if you feel anything should be removed just drop me a line and I'll do it per the rules of Lavender (est. 2015).

From the National Affairs Desk-

So as I wait for the sun to rise I get a message, a link, ominous, a warning, sent my way regarding an ongoing litigation/court case between indie artist Queen Kwong and has-been attention seeker Wes Borland. Because it is an ongoing situation I can't really give my legal insights to it out of respect to the judicial system (and my wallet), but since those rat bastards at Rolling Stone did my work for me and posted everything online before me and I am going to link it right here, then I feel that I can dip my toe in the pool (not that pool), just a taste. Here is the link. Once you are done closing the 50 fucking ads that pop up come back here. I'll be waiting. Let's chat.

Wes Borland Vs. Queen Kwong

All set? Ya got the gist of it? So I'm guessing this is the part you are waiting for. Let's go back to the past...

The Lavender Blog/JCM had a very minor run in with Queen Kwong, the band, back in something like 2016. The posts are currently down undergoing maintenance. As usual, we were a little miffed that this act (which was never from Michigan) was getting all these high caliber bookings, taking spots (and money) from home grown local musicians/bands. The local media was all over them, just absolute fawning. I think the peter puffers at the Metro Times even said they were going to save the Detroit scene, which was later actually used by TMZ. Our argument was logical: Two transplants being declared the saviors of Detroit at the expense of other local bands who were busting their asses at the time. I don't even include the Jesus Chainsaw in that group because A. We've never busted our asses as a band, and B. JCM and "expense" should never be in the same sentence. But we did have a grassroots following. I routinely received messages saying, "Thank you for saying what most of us cannot". This is true. Of course you had the local "star fuckers" who tried to worm their way in bills with them (you know who you are and have to live with it).

So when we found ourselves booked on the same music festival (the name eludes me) as Queen Kwong, and we posted a semi-rude preview of all the acts that may or may not have included some very tastefully shot photos of some of the bands. We were promptly removed. For months, it was the only thing people were even talking about. Meetings were held, threats were made, the festival happened, it was a dud and that was that. Unfortunately, due to this we were officially banned from pretty much everything until we retired as a live act.

Jump, flash, cut to today and Wes Borland and Carrie Callaway are divorced and as I am waiting for the sun to come up this Rolling Stone article comes across my desk. It kind of made me feel a little....icky. I knew that they (let's be honest, she) did a lot of work with rescue animals, a cause that is very near and dear to me. The last few JCM shows/events, all of the money has gone to animal rescue. Coming from a band that has made next to nothing, I like to think that as pretty nice. So when I saw some of the details involving the divorce including the animal rescues, specifically a cat named Daisy. Well now you have made an enemy.

Wes Borland comes across as the type of failed theater kid who has to make up for his marginal talent by dressing up like a complete flake, all the while indulging on the "Jack White Diet". To be fair, I do believe that Queen Kwong's "push" had a lot to do with him. I mean you have acts like the failed drug kids in Jamaican Queens trying to break though when we all knew it would never happen. Why not hitch the wagons to the act with the failed theater kid who has to make up for his marginal talent by dressing up like a complete flake on the Jack White Diet? I called it out in 2016, but today I understand why. The local scene is kind of lame. I don't know what I am trying to say. Just tossing thoughts at the wall waiting for the sun to rise on a day in 2023.

Is Kwong a clout chaser? Maybe. Is Borland a bloated has-been? Possibly. Like I said up there I'm not exactly where is post is meant to go, but the funniest thing in the Rolling Stone link is this quote: "They adversely affect Mr. Borland's public image and reputation that he built over a twenty plus year career."

I'm going to need a minute to finish my laughing.

Okay, I'm back. One thing that I really despise is tone deaf irony and that last statement just really takes the cake. Actually better than any satire written here over the years. So, to close, here is a top ten list of my favorite Limp Bizkit lyrics all of which are at least partially credited to Wes Borland. Not sure if he contributed to them but at least signed off on them to turn a profit. In no order, how could there be?

10. "First one to complain, leaves with a blood stain."

9. "I'm broke and for that you deserve a smackin' for a slackin'"

8. "I crawled up your butt from hell."

7. "Got lost in Boston, looking for a tea party. Met a child molester in Worchester."

6. "Why is everybody always picking on me?" Bwahahahahahahhaha

5. "This is dedicated to you Ben Stiller. You are my favorite motherfucker."

4. "Imma fuck you up, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you up Douche Bag"

3. "Pop off the rock ship, pop pop pop, off the rock ship."

2. "Yeah, kill that motherfucker."

1. "I've been looking for my Mrs. Right, but she don't exist, but chemistry is everything and we're anything but this."

So this ribbonhead is suing her for $5000 and "sanctions" whatever that means, because SHE is ruining his reputation??!! I give up. This is a guy that is pushing 50 that has a band called "Big Dumb Face". Just total tone deaf embarrassment. Just sign to Third Man Records already and do a collaboration called "Mid-Life Crisis".

To be fair, the riff for "Rollin'" is a total banger. Undertaker agrees.

From the Iceman Commeth

The Boy Next Door

Dr. Bryan Metro

The Ice Cream Truck in Winter- A Prologue

 Author's note- I'll be the first to admit that I can't write dialogue from scratch. I accept it. However I will take credit for stealing conversations from friends, even strangers overheard, and fattening them up, adding a little bit of seasoning and claiming them as my own. I've done this for over a decade in my writing, and I'm doing it here. The following is a prologue to a future post about a show review. The writing styles would give you a seizure if you read them back to back because they seem written by two different writers (and maybe they are). So I decided to split it into two parts, a Prologue, and a Gonzo show review. I also never include dedications in my regular posts, but this post is dedicated to Melissa, Elizabeth First, and Kentucky Pete (are you happy now Sis?).

The Ice Cream Truck in Winter

   "Jesus, there it is again. Don't you hear it? Doesn't anybody else hear it?"

   Matt is hysterical, yet nobody says anything. We are all out at the pool at the House By The Beach and it is January and we are dealing with the remnants of something called a "Bomb Cyclone" and it is uncharacteristically cold, especially for the West Coast and we are trying our best to just be comfortable. "We" are myself, Trent who is a DJ and amateur photographer, Matt who is an unemployed homosexual, Scott who works in the film industry, Amy who is Trent's wife, but is currently dating Scott, and occasionally sleeps with me, and also has no job. There is also Oakley, who is our personal trainer and the only black person that we know, and Ribbonhead who I just met and may have already OD'd on the damn patio.

   We are comfortable because of the four giant heaters that Trent's father installed around the patio and pool (which is also heated but no one can dip into). There are also elaborate artificial heat lights suspended above us so that we all can maintain our tans during this brutal winter. At one point Scott mentioned, "Do you realize the hazard of one of those falling into the pool?"

   "That would be the least of our worries. Also, who says 'hazard'?" Trent replies as he writes something into a notebook I have not noticed before.

   There is a line of eight heavy, fur-lined coats hung up near the pool, all stolen by Ribbonhead, in case any of us need to make the sixteen foot walk from the pool to the house in this cruel weather. The extra coat is ominous, a warning. Who is it for? Is there actually someone else here at the house by the beach that nobody knows about. It is a large house and we basically stay at the pool all day. Is this person also trapped here, unable to leave?

   "Jesus Christ, don't any of you hear it?" Matt cries again, and I imagine the set director administering glycerin tears to his face to really nail the point home. Nobody says anything. But I do hear it. It is the ice cream truck again.

   All of us at the House By The Beach are trapped here. There is no possibility of leaving, and for the past few days we can hear an ice cream truck drive by once a day. The reason we can't leave is not part of this story. The reason we can never leave is up to you. It is whatever you want it to be. At one point we actually took time away from watching "The View" to discuss the ice cream truck.

   "Who is driving an ice cream truck in January?"

   "Why is somebody driving an ice cream truck in the winter?"

   "Could they be sick?"

   "Why does it always stop here outside the gates? It fucking lingers, man. Lingers."

   "What if nobody is driving it? Green comet was spotted," Amy says, finally speaking and then swallows a Valium.

   We spend the next 15 minutes watching the trailer of "Maximum Overdrive" whooping and hollering, slapping high fives, and then I have to break up the party...

   "It could be Roddy Hogan," I finally say, getting the joke out of the way so I can continue with this story and Constant Readers would no longer be distracted. (Look it up).

   The ice cream truck finally drifts off and we get back to watching "The View", but it is boring so everybody starts shouting out topics: Dana White, Spike Lee, a transgender dragged for sounding too much like a man, The Munsters but in Washington, famous voice actors, and clones.

   "All of this is boring. I need a story. I need a saga. Metro, tell us a story, one of those zany ones. Flip the writing style," Trent shouts.

   "I dunno. I went to this show with some zany people. I guess I could spin that," I reply, not ready to flip the writing style.

   "Let me guess... 'Me and E First get drunk and then stuff happens.' You're so predictable," Scott says and slaps high five with Trent as Amy glares at me.

   "Nahhh, she's not in this story," I start as we all hear the ice cream truck coming back, "But I'll give it a shot."

   "Can't wait," Trent says, possibly sincerely.

   "Yet you couldn't leave her out," Amy mumbles.

   "Hey guys, do any of you realize that this is the first time the ice cream truck has come back twice in a day?" Matt asks, tears in his eyes maybe, and none of us reply, and then we hear a door open and close. Someone has gotten out. Multiple thoughts and questions run through my mind: What is really in the ice cream truck? What happens when somebody in the outside world stops the ice cream truck in winter? Will it even stop? Does it stop even if nobody is flagging it down? What is on the film reels that Trent keeps in the Darkroom?

   I am shaken by this absolute paradox by my messenger buzzing. I check and see that it is from E First. Before I open it I look to see if Amy is watching. Amy is watching with a look that can only be described as "I told you so" merged with sheer contempt. I ignore Amy and click the message.

   "I fear October/November might not be good for me," the message says and I flinch, which puts a subtle smile on Amy's face. "Oh fuck, she's pregnant," I immediately think and then wait three minutes before replying with a vague, "What do you mean?"

   "I just hate my birthday," she replies, oh thank god.

   "I understand," I reply, "That's actually an obtuse synopsis of my debut novel 'The Invisible People'."

   "I know. I was there," she says, a reminder tinged with a warning.

   "Well hey, there's nothing that says we can't evolve and make the most of it," I counter, and Amy gets up, whispers "Asshole", takes one of the fur coats, and goes into the house.

   "We've never fit in," she says, either a lie or another warning, "Why would we want to now?"

She clicks off.

   This entire exchange has left me exhausted so I turn my attention back to the ice cream truck. The music is still playing but I am positive that someone(thing) has gotten out of it. I scan the pool area. Matt and Oakley are making out, and Scott is working on a film script that is about a fractured, dysfunctional family isolated in a cabin in a forest, but maybe a desert, and the cabin or maybe the area is haunted by a ghost (named Janet) which ultimately brings them all together with help from a medium whose car breaks down because a deranged gas station attendant, this real crazy guy, sabotages it (a possible spin-off). The current title is "The Corrections".

   I turn and notice that Ribbonhead might have actually OD'd which, surprisingly, would be a first at the House By The Beach, and Trent is reading the latest issue of Esquire, the headline "When Did Hollywood Get So Puffy?" Everyone is too lazy, or dead in the case of Ribbonhead, to go to the sentry post to go check on the ice cream truck. Then again, maybe it's too cold.

   All of a sudden the buzzer on the front gate buzzes and some of us jump. The ice cream truck is still playing music but somebody wants something.

   "Metro," Trent says, putting down the Esquire magazine he was pretending to read, "About that story. How about you spin it. And spin it quick. I told you I can't wait."

   "Right on. Got it," I start and then continue because we might be running out of time, "So I get a call from my friend and bootlegging Wizard Kentucky Pete and he says, 'So I have this extra ticket for you if you want it. These guys have been around for 40 years. This could make a good post.'"

"I'll make sure it will be," my reply.

From the Iceman Commeth

The Boy Next Door

Dr. Bryan Metro

The 11th Hour- Metro For Sheriff

    "You have done absolutely nothing!"

   I wake up from a dream, or maybe a nightmare, to this being yelled at me through the JCM plastic cup intercom system by the overwhelmed assistant Sebastian Owl from the other side of the JCMsTown Compound. In the dream I was having, Elizabeth Third, who is the pixie E-Girl cashier from the grocery store that is in love with me, was repeating/crying, "Make up something. Make up something. Make...up...some...thing," but that is for a future post.

   "What are you babbling about?" I ask Owl.

   "Election Day is Tuesday and you have done nothing in regards to your campaign for sheriff of Wayne County," Owl is frantic.

   "Actually, I could be elected sheriff of Wayne, Oakland, Macomb counties, maybe more. I am untrackable. I just roam," I reply.

   "Are you going to do anything about it?"

   "I am going to need a multi-tier platform and I'm going to need some flyers. I'll get started in an hour," I warn, and then cut the string attached to the plastic cup so I won't be bothered anymore.

   The Metro for Sheriff campaign was initially conceived by Elizabeth First, the tambourine player, not to be confused with Elizabeth Third from the dream. That's the next post, the post-Halloween post. First had written my name in as her choice for sheriff during the primaries and it was very touching but then I realized that I really might be able to make a difference. So I decided to run for sheriff after all and now I have a day to make it happen.

   I call Kentucky Pete, who is my primary bootlegging Wizard and Wise Man, and have him come up with a flyer design that I plan on distributing at the post office and grocery store which are basically the only places I go to these days.

   "Meet me at the Walgreens," K Pete says, ominously.

   "Cool, I'll need about thirty. Does that sound right?" I ask.

   "I'm doing this as a favor, but it comes with a cost," he replies ominously.

   I don't know what he means so I click off and head over to Walgreens where K Pete is waiting. We head in and K Pete disappears while I head to the photo area to grab the flyers.

   "What's the name?" the ribbonhead working the counter asks.

   "Metro. Bryan," I reply.

   "Sorry, nothing under that name."

   "Kentucky Pete?" I reply, a question.

   "No, nothing," he replies as I start to panic that we might be at the wrong Walgreens. K Pete is banned from multiple locations. And on that note K Pete arrives at the counter with a basket full of snacks, beer, vitamins, and a knee brace.

   "I have a pick up," he tells the clerk, "The name is under Uncle Jasper."

   Uncle Jasper is an alias that Kentucky Pete, which actually is another alias, uses when he is in the Garden City area. He even has a custom mask for when he gets into the dark territory of the mind. He wore it when we scammed our way into Theater Bizarre and spent the entire night muttering "Uncle Jasper" when he wasn't fumbling for the Fireball.

   "Uncle Jasper. Yep, got it right here," the dweeb says and hands us the package of Metro For Sheriff Flyers.

   "Metro, go ahead and take the flyers. I'll meet you at the car. It's on me. Plus, I have all this stuff to buy and you need to work on your campaign promises. Plus, you have a bad knee. That's why we need this knee brace here," K Pete says and I have no idea where he is going with this, so I take the flyers and head to the car. Less than 40 seconds later K Pete rushes into the car, still with the basket.

   "Let's go! Get out of here now," he shouts.

   "What is the deal man?"

   "The deal is good. I told him that you walked out with the flyers without paying and when they were distracted I walked out with this basket. I boosted all of this stuff," he explains and this is when I notice that he had changed into the Uncle Jasper mask.

   "You don't even need half the shit you have in that basket," I yell, "Vitamins? You don't take vitamins. I don't take vitamins. What's with the fucking vitamins man?"

   "Yeahhhh, I thought about that, but the shelves were stocked. We'll just take them to the CVS a mile over. They know me there. We'll return them for store credit. Campaign funds, my friend. Or should I say, Future Sheriff."

   He had a point. Once we got to a Kroger in possibly one of the worst parts of town I open the flyer package and am floored that K Pete neglected to include my full name.

   "Dude, how are people going to know who to write in? Who is 'B. Metro'? What is that? Is it Barry? Bobby? It could be Bianca, a female! We can't have a female sheriff!"

   "Ooops, don't worry, it's in the bag. You got this," his solitary reply.

   After returning around $50 in stolen vitamins for store credit we use the credit to buy even more beer and Fireball and canvas the store to try to make use of all these "Metro For Sheriff" flyers I am losing interest in.

I drop K Pete off (He doesn't say goodbye) and head over to JCM HQ, the bikini bar to work on my campaign platform. And This......Is......It.....

Metro For Sheriff Campaign Platform

1. A Firing Squad. In order to establish at least some semblance of peace we are going to have to resurrect the Firing Squad. We will need six good shots. No worries, there will be a full background check. We don't need any psychotic Patriots with automatic rifles. We also don't need any green-haired poofs showing up to Firing Squad with squirt guns as some kind of ironic statement. The Firing Squad will need a cool name. The Too Much Fun Club is already taken (and probably inappropriate). Possibly, it could be the Honor Roll. Kentucky Pete suggested "The Majestic Six" which also works. Anyway, Firing Squad.

2. As Sheriff, there will be an immediate investigation into where the surplus funds from the Hamtramck Music Fest (and other local music fests) are actually going to. For far too long we have never had a concrete answer where the money is going and as Sheriff I pledge to make that change. Too many of the people involved are also involved in bankruptcy protection so I think the time is NOW for the details to emerge. As Sheriff, I will make things emerge.

3.a- All local non-prescribed drug sales are to be run and Regulated through the Sheriff's office in coordination with press secretary and Minister of Dope Elizabeth First. If there is any cheapjack Fentanyl detected: Immediate Firing Squad.

3.b- All Jack White drug mules must check in with the Sheriff's office/Minister of Dope.

4. We will enforce an aggressive effort to ensure all GoFundMe's/crowdsourcing projects have complete accountability and proof of where the money went.

5. An executive order to make "What Dat Mouf Do" a monthly event. The Minister of Dope along with Sheriff Metro will be on site to make sure we get a fair cut in the crack sales.

6. A pledge to clean up the real estate fraud in Detroit, specifically Hamtramck, and also look into that Greatest Wrestling Collection goofball Steven Morand who has been fleecing people for years to buy cheap figures.

7.a- Any permutation of "Dude or Muggs" can only play at Cadieux Cafe once a year.

7.b- Any double bill of The Hourlies and Vellows can only play once a year. This can be extended if the Sheriff or Minister of Dope can play tambourine.

8. An inquiry as to why the W.A.B. has been closed in a thriving locale in a post pandemic period. A secondary inquiry will be implemented if they reopen under the nefarious "new management" moniker and still emply next to zero people of color. This investigation will be headed by the Minister of Equality, -jr.

9. YouScan Regulation. Any foreigner playing dumb at a YouScan like they haven't been there before, trying to pass off copied coupons, holding up the line at closing time knowing that the clerk will let them get by for free must provide a recent pay stub, tax return, or proof of employment. If any of the above exceeds the Sheriff. Firing Squad.

10. No more kids helping at the bottle return. One thing the Sheriff hates is walking in to the bottle return with five cans of empty lowjack beer only to see some sweathog with a garbage bag of returns and letting their waterhead kid put them in like it was some type of great life lesson. Enough. Stop. You've all been there. As Sheriff, I promise, no more. Honor Roll.

11. Make an effort to look into racial profiling. What are the Pro's? What are the Con's?

So that's it in regards to my Metro for Sheriff campaign. I hope I provided enough knowledge so that you can make the right choice this Tuesday. 

From the Iceman Commeth,

Bryan Metro For Sheriff

-jr For Minister of Equality

E First For Minister of Dope

Sebastian Owl For Misister of Cleaning Up the Mess

The Great Pumpkin Hunt-JCM Crashes Theater Bizarre

    "I can't hear a single thing out of this damn ear."

   I am shouting at trustworthy, yet exhausted, assistant Sebastian Owl through the JCM'sTown Compound intercom which is basically two cups attached to a string. Actually there are multiple cups, multiple lines, in case I multitask. The entire Compound is littered with cups. Everywhere you walk you Will step on a goddamn cup.

   Back to the story, I have been dealing with a nasty case of temporal arteritis, which is an inflammation of the main artery on the right side of the head which could end up being a stroke or maybe just a miserable day. Whatever.

   "Do you want to go to urgent care?" Owl asks from the intercom/cups on the other side of the Compound, and I still can barely hear.

   "No. Hold on, Kentucky Pete is messaging on the Mojo Wire," I reply and use scissors to cut the string from the intercom so that I am not interrupted again. I click on the Mojo Wire.

   "Hey Metro, it's K Pete."

   "Yes, I know."

   "Theater Bizarre is this weekend and they're asking for volunteers."

   "Theater Bizarre makes my eyes roll," I reply, rolling my eyes.

   "C'mon man," he explains.

   "It is overpriced and filled with people with too much money, who think way too highly of themselves, and who I would never socialize on a personal basis to begin with," I explain.

   "But you get to get in for free, maybe make some money, and just have to work an elevator," he explains.

   "Okay, I'm sold. I'll pick you up around 6," I explain.

I arrive at 5:45 in costume.

   "What are you supposed to be?" K Pete asks.

   "I'm going as the Filth Magnet," I explain.

   "You look like an asshole."

   At this point I notice that Kentucky Pete is not even wearing a costume.

   "Wait, we're supposed to be working this thing and you have no costume!" I yell.

   "They know me. I have a guy on the inside. He gave me the tip on the volunteering gig. He also gave me the design for their new Token system."

   "What token system?" I am sweating in October.

   "Well, this year you need tokens to get into special rooms," he explains...

"Like sex stuff," I ask.

   "Well, special rooms. It's a new system and I have around 50 of these fuckers ready to roll. We just need to pick them up. I also have tickets bootlegged as well in case we get denied. I hope they're right about these volunteer dropouts... Let's roll."

   So we head to his usual Walgreens where he grabs fifty crude facsimile printouts of the tokens that we spend the next 30 minutes taping to cardboard. And then we get stopped by the cashier. Well, great...

   "Sir, your pants are soaked," the clerk says, eyeing K Pete, who leans into me and says, "I have my Firebird in my sock. It's leaking."

   "Jesus man, ditch the fucking flask and lets get out of here," I reply, and K Pete takes out the flask and leaves it on the counter while telling the clerk to "keep it" and we rush out of the store cackling like madmen, and then I realize we have one more stop to make.

   "We need to make another stop," I explain.

   "We're going to be late. What's the deal?" K Pete asks as he takes a pull from a flask of Firebird that I don't know where it came from.

   "The deal is good. We have to pick up Elizabeth Second at this hotel in Lincoln Park," I explain.

   "The tambourine player is coming?" he asks.

   "No, that is Elizabeth First. E First is the tambourine player. This is E Second. She is in town from Vegas and wants some action. She'll get the drugs."

   "But doesn't E First get the drugs?" K Pete is also sweating in October.

   "No! Well, wait, yes she does, but this is Elizabeth Second."

   "Where is Elizabeth First then?"

   

   "I don't know. Disappeared. Happens every other month."

   "So who is this Elizabeth Second?" K Pete is frantic.

   "She's in town from Vegas, don't ask, and can probably score some good shit," I explain.

   "Wait, so she is going to volunteer at the elevators too? We can't have three people running an elevator. Nobody will be able to ride it. This is such a savage scam," K Pete is still frantic.

   "Girls like E Second don't volunteer. We have nothing to worry about. Let's roll."

   We arrive at E Second's hotel but she has already checked out and is currently at Beaumont Hospital in Dearborn because she thought she got sick. We don't ask any questions and scoop her up and head to Masonic.

   "How come you're not wearing a costume?" E Second asks K Pete.

   "I'm going as the 'Kind Neighbor'," he replies, "and what are you going as tonight?"

   "I'm the benevolent shot girl."

   We eventually arrive at Theater Bizarre and somehow make our way to the entrance. K Pete's volunteers scam initially works, but the door guy was not happy.

   "You are the guys that are supposed to be working the elevator? You're late. People are complaining. I had 30 Rock Financial cosplayers bitching at me they can't get to the smoking area."

   "It's okay. We're with the Metro Times," I reply flashing my bootlegged press pass.

   "And I'm with Hour Detroit," K Pete says, same.

   "And Eros Vegas," E Second adds, no credentials, but who is going to ask?

   "Okay, fine, you guys take the elevator gig. Make sure to bring the girl. Here are you passes," the ribbonhead says and we take our passes. "Make sure to bring the girl," he repeats.

   "Of course. Whatever's right," I reply as we make our way to wherever we are supposed to be.

   "Okay, I'm heading to one of the theme rooms. Thanks for the free pass. Do you have any extra of those tokens?" Elizabeth Second asks, and K Pete hands her around twenty, but most of them crude and rushed. And then she's gone. We will never see her again so we start towards the elevators and then things shift again.

   "Can't do it," K Pete mumbles as he takes a swing from yet another Fireball pint, the last one having been confiscated at the entrance.

   "Jesus, where is this coming from?" I ask, frantic, "You ditched the last two at Walgreens and the door!"

   "Can't do it," K Pete repeats ignoring my questions, "I have a fear of elevators. Ever since I was arrested in one. Fairlane. Dearborn."

   I knew this story well. It was probably mid-90's/ Kentucky Pete was at the Fairlane Mall in Dearborn, drunk because why not, already with an aging prostate. He had to piss and decided to do so in the elevator to the second level. At that time the elevator was glass so everybody could see this monster pissing on the door. Needless to say the police were waiting for him and K Pete was arrested. In a cruel twist of fate, at the court hearing, the benches were obviously wood and K Pete accidentally farted during the hearing, interrupting the judge's spiel and the wood amplified the sound and he ate a contempt of court as a result.

   "Can't do it," K Pete says yet again, "Let's get something to eat. I have a bootleg of the menu."

   We eat and K Pete gets up and says that he needs to change into his costume for our gig at the elevators that we are very late for. As he shuffles off I realize that he has zero intention of paying for the tab so after five painful minutes I walk out on the tab and find K Pete in costume as Buckethead. The photo is from the Majestic a decade ago, but I guess he takes this gear everywhere.

   As I approach him I realize that he is urinating into either a bottle or a cup. I couldn't bother to look.

   "What are you doing?" I softly shout.

  "Can't find a single fucking bathroom here."

   "We are late for the elevator gig. Ditch the costume and that swill and let's go."

   "Can't do it. Elevators man," he replies.

   "Then just stand outside the fucker. I'll run the damn elevator," I shout.

   Kentucky Pete agrees and ditches the costume and hands the piss cup to somebody from Rocket Mortgage and ominously says, "Extra stout."

   We get to the elevator where Jeff Milo is working, stepping in, obviously frustrated.

   We excuse him and K Pete immediately leaves.

   "Gotta piss again. Plus need to change into another costume. We're not going to last 20 minutes here."

   He comes back looking like a complete fool. I recognized the costume from when I initially picked him up while he was wandering around the yard.

   "What are you supposed to be? I ask.

   "I'm Uncle Jasper. Call me Jasper."

   "What is Uncle Jasper?" I ask.

   "I made it up. I can't do this elevator thing," he explains and we spend the next five minutes selling off the rest off the bootlegged tokens at a discount (but that much ho ho ho) and after five minutes of people complaining that we are not actually running the elevator we just ditch the entire job and blend in using the fraud tickets and the bootleg press passes. K Pete insists on spending the rest of the night as Uncle Jasper and we grabbed some pics.

Now That is quality Screwjacks!

   After that waste of time, we decided to check out some of the theme rooms which require tokens which aren't a problem of course because we are still sitting on at least 25 of them.

   "Fistitorium. I like the sound of that," K Pete says, as I silently agree, "Maybe that girl we brought in here is in there."

   "It's possible," I reply, "But in reality we will never see her again."

   "Oh."

   So we give Fistitorium a shot and it was okay. The best part was the dumpy girl dressed as Kenny Omega that we ran into while they were complaining about the elevator.

   The Fisitorium room awoke something awful in me as I recalled going to a swingers hotel party in Farmington with one of my ex's and it was just awful. I went in having no intention of participating and was just there to observe and journalize. There was nobody attractive there. My ex saw me scowling and said "Stop scowling. Don't be rude," which I ignored and we went to the pool which was predictably filled with middle-age oatmealheads. And then I insisted we leave, which we did. The Fistitorium was not as bad as that. A few ringers, but whatever. I was getting tired and K Pete had produced yet another Fireball pint which means I'm driving him home. The night was turning dark.

   "Hey man, look at this," K Pete says, awakening me from my daydream. It was a screencap of some girl who lost a mask at this very event. He shows me the cap.

   "Oh Jesus man, that's not you is it?" I ask him, now in full on panic mode.

   "No way, I thought it was you," he replies giggling. 

   "There is a possibility that one of us have this mask," one of us says, who?, nobody knows.

   "No way, we have already burned this thing too much. There is somebody else here that is looking for trouble. Do you want to go back to try the elevator gimmick. They never paid us," K Pete asks.

   "No way. I'm tired. Plus they're on to us and I bet you have that fucking mask. You're just too drunk to realize it.."

   "I thought you did. You're the bandit. Missed opportunities I guess," he says, sliding into that awful introspective mood. But he was right. Neither of us had the mask. That would break the rules. That girl did not deserve to have the mask snatched. Anyway.

   We run into Woodman on our way out.

   "You guys get in for free? Freebees?" he asks.

   "Hey do we look like a record store kid?" K Pete replies.

   "It's what you don't know," I continue.

   "That matters most," K Pete finishes.

And then we left.

From the Iceman Commeth,

The Boy Next Door,

Dr. Bryan Metro

                &

Kentucky Pete

Happy Halloween

   "