All In The Family

“Family is the most important thing in the world.”~ Princess Diana

As I took a gander to the Internet, this amazing article came to me as an unbelievable fact known in history.

But it really did happen.

In Russia, during the 18th Century, a a peasant man by the name of Feodor Vassilyev had fathered 87 total children in his lifetime.

87 children.

Between 1725 and 1765, Vassilyev’s wife gave birth to 69 children. 67 of them survived infancy. That’s 16 pairs of twins, 7 sets of triplets and 4 sets of quadruplets.  Vassilyev also had 18 children with his second wife, who had 6 pairs of twins and 2 sets of triplets. And that is your total of 87 children. At least 82 are said to have survived infancy.

Sadly there is nothing in history known about the two women who gave birth. No names, no personal data, nothing at all. So we’ll never know who they really were.

I cannot imagine what that would be like in today’s time and place. All I know for sure is that this really blows away Nadya Suleman and her giving birth to octuplets. Although having eight at once is a major deal. Vassilyev accomplished eight rather quickly with just two sets out of four total of quadruplets. Vassilyev wins.

And you think YOU have a large family??

18 April 2015: Storming Houston Over Six Minute Century

“We’re trippin’ them Satan’s balls tonight!”~Dr. Froth

My apologies to my subscribers. I nearly forgot to write on this.

After a six month absence in Houston, I was able to make yet another trip to see SIX MINUTE CENTURY. For the birthday celebration of lead singer, Chuck Williams.

After failing miserably in January, being fooled by what Texas appears to call winter weather …. things just seemed odd. Probably because of the fact that it HAD been six months.

I found myself attempting to make it there on my own. No neighbors could help give me a ride to the bus stop, so I didn’t feel like there was much of a choice.

But that hill that found me, nearly killed me. And there were a ton of people around who were just walking by. Nobody offered to help. I started to get angry, but then again, I could see that uncertain area in between being helpful and being presumptuous about the situation. And then when I got on the bus, we ended up getting into a rather unusual fender bender. A Taurus ran through a red light and clipped the corner of a double decker bus. If this vehicle was playing chicken, then they didn’t realize what they were up against.

All but one passenger was okay. That one passenger elected to get off the bus (by his own power) and seek medical attention. The rest of us apparently wanted to carry on towards Houston. The remainder of the trip was fine though.

Once arriving in the afternoon for a change, I didn’t have to wait very long to get picked up to go to the show. There was a number of people there that I hadn’t seen at a Houston show in probably a year or more. And it was great to see my friends again. Once again, making me feel like I have a new home there if I wanted it.

Dr. Froth however, needed to take a side trip to someone’s home to gather up some music gear. And as he was loading it, I looked down at the driver’s seat and saw a paper sitting there. It was the set list for SIX MINUTE CENTURY.

I tried so very hard not to look at it, but I had already seen a few songs. Songs that I would have already figured that they were going to play at the beginning of the show. But deep down I did wonder whether they were going to play “Zero Hour” or not. With great restraint, I was able to resist.

The opening band was Infidel Rising, from Dallas. I was blown away at their talent. From their amazing drummer all the way up to their lead singer’s vocal abilities. I mean… I was just floored!!!

Their drummer had an amazing style of how he played. And I think that everyone there noticed it.

They proclaimed themselves to be prog metal, but I could see them fitting into all sorts of sub-categories. I really do want to give them another chance to make sure. They return to Houston in June, playing with Masqued. How I would love to go!!! 

SIX MINUTE CENTURY took the stage for what was going to be about two hours in length. Something I had never experienced before. The moment that they began to play, something went far back into the wrinkles of my brain and found the pleasure centers as well as memory factors and just bombed the hell out of it. The hair on my arms stood up and my spine went through one hell of a shiver.

This was the band that I remembered. This was the band that I led the charge for. And I was there for it all.

The crowd as well as the band began a silent countdown in their minds to midnight. And at that point, it would be officially Chuck’s birthday. As he kept saying. “I’m 22. Twice (or again)”

Surprisingly enough, the alcohol did not flow as much as it has in Aprils past.

This was a genius idea!

There were a few chants and shouts and a couple of drinks brought to the stage.

They played both of their April 19th tunes. Also noting that the Oklahoma City bombing was already 20 years ago. Time is certainly flying at a speed that nobody really believed possible!

And the party continued on and on and on.

I was actually anticipating someone to start singing the Birthday Song, but nobody attempted it. It was disappointing, actually.

I sure as hell was not going to sing. Had I started that up, people would have insisted I get on stage. And that just wasn’t going to happen.

But I don’t think that Chuck Williams can complain. Or SIX MINUTE CENTURY for that matter.

Towards the end of their set,  I heard the sounds of the helicopter and I knew exactly what that meant.

Chuck Williams stepped up again to the microphone and dedicated the song “Zero Hour” to me.

The band nailed it. They nailed most of the night. “Zero Hour” however, it was just as perfect as one could get it. From an audience point of view.

After that eargasm, Chuck walked closed to the edge of the stage where I was sitting and I shouted “Love you brother!”

Chuck Williams response was reciprocation as he spoke softly but directly into the microphone.

The show was one of their best successes in years. At least since I had started to arrive at shows in Houston back in 2011.

Rob Lowe (right) joins Chuck Williams and the rest of SIX MINUTE CENTURY

Then the big finish was NOT their usual performance of “Perfect Picture” but rather a cover. And this had Robert Lowe joining them all on stage for double vocals on the microphone.

I had never actually heard nor seen Robert Lowe perform live. I had heard some of his other recorded work with bands such as Candlemass and Solitude Aeturnus. But never thought about hearing him sing live.

 

SIX MINUTE CENTURY may be returning to Vintage Pub on Independence Day this year. I have my doubts to make that show. But the Dr. Froth Birthday Extravaganza will be the 29th of August. And that’s the one show that comes with a heavy price to pay upon my head if I miss it. Put there by the House of Froth.

Vintage Pub however seemed to turn on its customers when the music was all said and done.

“Last Call” was announced and they just simply changed the genre of music over from rock and roll and heavy metal to hip hop and R&B……. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, over?

A late spring thunderstorm hit with plenty of thunder and the pouring of rain, and Vintage Pub is screaming at everyone to get the hell out.

There was one waitress that I kept staring at the whole night. I never got close during any time. But at the end of the night, she walked right by and got a close up to see who I was dealing with. The “cool idea” of getting a photograph with her was abandoned. Chances are that I will never see her again.

By the time I had left with Dr. Froth, the rain had stopped. A fresh coat of simple wet was applied to everything.

The following morning, I got ready to check out of the hotel and get on with my travel back home. I left a little early to catch something to eat at the Smokehouse place directly next door. I had failed to notice a few signs though.

It was closed. They had moved to another location. And now instead of my plan of just waiting for under an hour for the bus to arrive. I had to kill over two hours.

Then the bus was late. By almost a full hour.  Other passengers who were waiting were talking about some bicycle ride that was happening from Houston to Austin. It was their theory as to why the bus was late.

It wasn’t a theory, it was fact. With road closures and detours, we simply had a late bus.

By then, my arms and hands began to hurt. Probably from bracing myself from the bus impact the day before. My right hand and wrist blew up like a balloon and pain was radiating all the way up to the elbow. Others who were also there to experience that were talking about being sore in general terms.

By the time the bus had reached the destination, it was able to shave off several minutes of being late. Not many though.

I took off again on my own to try and get home. But that bicycle race was right there. I mean literally the next block over.  Delays and cancellations. It took me an hour and a half to find a functioning city bus stop to climb on board in order to get home. I had been in town for well over TWO hours before I even got home.

Bookmarked by misery, the enjoyment of the show was something to behold. Cannot wait to see what August brings. But some changes on my behalf will have to be made.

Crying Over Spilled Beer

“Don’t cry over spilled milk. It could have been beer.”~ Author Unknown

Last night, I traveled to Waco, Texas because #1- I can and #2- I was invited to attend a show there which headlined the band, P.O.D.

There will be a full blog post about my travels and experiences about that much later.

I wanted to focus on a group of people that I had the unfortunate displeasure to have crossed paths with.

Although as they say, when it becomes a thing of the past and you look upon it then you will just laugh and laugh and laugh.

I ain’t laughing yet….. that much!!!

As I was familiarizing myself with the venue, I had the sorrowful duty to attempt to manage to get myself around as best as I could while dealing with rather THICK carpeting.

I had turned the corner and hadn’t been talking, hadn’t bothered anyone, and I passed up a group of gentlemen.

Suddenly, my arm and chest and all the way down to my hip felt wet and very cold.

These “gentlemen” were a group of friends and were involved in a serious match of horse play when one of them spilled their beer all over me.

Now I realize that they didn’t simply just THROW it on me or DUMP it on me, nevertheless the guy’s glass was empty in a fraction of a second and I was dripping with the contents of that glass.

Suddenly their incessant giggling and immature shenanigans came to a most abrupt end and conclusion. So much so that they pretty much kept to themselves quiet the rest of the night…. even after I had moved.

I looked at my coat sleeve as it dripped of nasty and cheap beer from the forearm to the hand and down the fingers to one side of my lap.

Looking up slowly, I saw three or four faces frozen in shock and in horror. And best of all: fear.

I didn’t say a word. Not even a grunt or a peep. I turned away from them and kept moving on.

The rest of the night, the guilty party continually came up to me after it was all said and done, apologizing, begging for forgiveness, and apologizing some more. I continued to stay quiet. 

Here’s the inside scoop on this story and probably the REAL reason as to why they were so adamant about being sorry and letting me know about how sorry they were:

The photograph of the jacket is called a “BDU” in the military.

I was wearing one. My brother got one for me while he was serving in the Army.

I had my name across it. I had military patches and other insignia up and down the sleeves. It looks legit even though it is not. Because I am not a Colonel, nor enlisted in the United States Army. I do however, like the insignia and symbol of the rank of Colonel.

Eagles, anyone?

These guys convinced themselves without any help of anyone else of the outside world, that a beer had been spilled upon a member of this country’s military veterans.

The next thing I know, they were offering to buy me drinks the rest of the night. They were wanting to take me out to eat. They were willing to purchase expensive band merchandise. They even offered to bring me to the next big show and pay for my ticket. All of this, without my consent or approval.

I honestly believe that these people were fearing some kind of massive retribution on my behalf as a consequence for their immature actions. And they were attempted to mend the wrong with showering me with gifts, to ensure that retribution would not be received.

The sad part is that people are going to believe what they want to believe. It does not matter whether or not you attempt to right their mistakes, they will do and believe what they want. No matter how many times I tried to tell them to just drop it… they insisted. And no matter how many attempts that I gave to explain that I was not in the Army, and that it was just a jacket… they believed what they want.

Am I former military? NO.
Was it okay for them to have done what they did? NO.

So, there’s fault on both sides. And it appears that both sides were stuck with attempts to right the wrong in vain.

Chances are… I’ll never see these guys again. That’s just the way the world works. But I literally had these guys scared to death the entire rest of the night up until the time that I left the venue to return home.

This could be a lesson for people as well.

Of course I could have screamed and cursed and attempted to pick a fight with these guys. I would have been justified in doing so because of what had happened. But I think the best retaliation was to let them stew in their own individual minds about what they were doing and what they did do and what had happened, to punish themselves about it the rest of the night.

Are they thinking about it now-today? I doubt it. But they sure as hell thought about it last night.

Sing What Happens

“I see L.A. as a beautiful blonde with dirty underwear.”~ David Boreanaz

Never in a million years would I think that I would be writing about this subject matter.

I’ll keep it short, and I will also attempt to keep it as clean as possible as it really is NSFW.

However, floating around on Facebook today are several articles about a certain television program that is aired in Japan on certain adult cable channels. A contest called “Sing What Happens.”

Now I really don’t think something like this would EVER been  televised here in the United States of America. But it most certainly does exist in Japan in small and dark corners.

To learn more about this unusual television singing contest is a link below to an article talking about it:

Read at your own risk. [NSFW]

As for me ……. I need a life!
http://elitedaily.com/humor/sng-what-happens-jacked-off-karaoke/1002824/