I like going to concerts. I’ve been fortunate in my lifetime to see a bunch of shows that have absolutely kicked ass. However, I have a hard time imagining people getting all pumped up to attend Barbra Streisand. I mean…is it REALLY going to be that different from listening to her shitty music on an eight-track?
Here’s the thing: when music sucks on your CD player, it sucks 300 times harder live. That’s just the way it is. Those of you who read my blog regularly know that I’m not exactly the most even-tempered, live-and-let-live dude under the sun. I like to think that’s why you keep checking back here. (Hey, I wonder if that crazy, foul-mouthed Jew has finally flipped out and shot someone.) You can only imagine what I’m like when I’m drunk and attending a show.
Heckling is a fine art. You want to make sure that you’re relentless, being heard by the band, and obliterating all lines of decency and common courtesy. Hey, it’s what I do. If a band or performer is smart, they won’t even acknowledge me. If they do, it’s all downhill from there.
Generally, I have respect for musicians…however my patience, respect, (and occasionally bladder control) are all severely impaired by alcohol. As is my ability to make sense. Here are some of the lines I’ve used to heckle:
“You sing like Shatner!”
“Yanni rocks harder than you!”
“Go back to Russia!”
Honestly, I don’t even know where the last one comes from. I’m sure it made sense to me at the time.
However, I was thinking recently about one particularly sucky band and whether it’s worth it to actually attend strictly for heckling purposes. The situation is this:
I went to high school with an absolute cunt of a girl. And I don’t say that word lightly. There are perhaps three or four women on the planet that I reserve that term for. This girl was a cunt: rich, snotty, always talking down to people…just a spoiled, stupid bitch. Let’s call her “Misty.” She’s actually the niece of someone famous...At any rate; it came to my attention a few years back that she’s in a band with her sister. I found out this way:
Ring. Ring.
Me: Hello?
Random whore from high school who I don’t speak to: Hey, Ehren! How are you?
Me: Um…who is this?
Girl: It’s [insert uppity-white girl name here].
Me: ok? What the hell do you want?
Girl: Well, remember Misty? She’s in a band and guess what?
Me: They got shot by Suge Knight?
Girl: They’re playing in our hometown! I was thinking that we could round up some people and support them!
Me: OK, do you even remember who I am? I HATE that bitch! What have I ever done to convince you that she isn’t someone I pray gets raped? Are you PSYCHOTIC? Can you remember a single instance when she was even tolerant towards me?
Girl: Ummm…wow…ok…
Me: Tell you what, let me see if I can find Buddy Holly’s travel agent. I’ll set the two of them up.
So I’ve learned that this terrible person is fronting a band that will be playing at a school festival (sounds like they’re shooting right to the middle. Ooooo…High Schools! How’d they ever get that gig?). It’s the type of place where families sit on blankets, sip lemonade and get their face painted. The only question is: am I THAT dedicated to making a chick from High School cry? Because I’m seriously considering breaking out rotten fruit.
The only drawback to my plan (other than the possible jail time for disturbing the peace, and depending how worked up I get, public nudity) is that it would mean letting my high school know that I’m still alive. See after I got that call, I found out that my parents had been keeping the place up-to-date with my personal information. I went home and told them:
“Listen, if anyone else calls about me; tell them I was killed in a tragic ballooning accident. Tell them my dying wish was that they carve me a memorial statue.”
I was thinking that maybe I’d change my story to, ‘Ehren’s a 9 time World Kickboxing Champion. He’s dedicated his life to walking the earth and righting that which is wrong.’
That ought to make for an interesting snippet in the alumni bulletin.
3 comments:
For some of you that have read E’s latest blog and thought he was a bit too mean on this girl, I am here to assure you dear reader this girl is a cunt. I only have two people that I would ever dare call them that word and she is one of them. I’ll give you an example, she once told my girlfriend at the time to break up with me cuz I was to poor. She makes Ann Coulter seem like an angle compared to her. When I get rich enough I will set up an award show call the biggest Cunt of the year and it will go to her every year, even if she dies it will still go to her, cuz she’s probably driving Satan up the wall.
Last weekend I got yelled at by some bozos at a shitty coverband show. They were rocking their hardest covers of lame-ass new rock band when I started yelling for Iron Maiden, even singing "Run to the hills" right at them. Obviously I was drunk. It was a massive street party, check out www.grandave.com for more info, anyways, next thing you know, some clownshoes next to me started bitching to me that I was ruining the show for them. Like shitty covers of Plush and those stupid bands Bush and like, Creed sorta rock were good to begin with. Fuck them...Another time, I was at a Brother Ali show with a friend. In between songs, B Ali was introducing the next one, my friend Bri decides now was the time to remind the brother that we "paid good money to see you rap, not talk fucker." It was if the entire crowd turned to us and Brother Ali started squaking right back. I escorted my drunk friend back to the upstairs bar and away from the stage.
Ok, I really, really hate the word cunt. For some reason used in this context and explained by iz it made me laugh for the first time. She sounds like she fits the profile.
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