NAME: Jack Rabid, aka Overworked and Underpaid.
Drums, anything involving mental organization, and writing impassioned reviews about music artists far too few give a damn about, just cause he's really stubborn that way.
Rock and roll heaven. Where the music is always live and full of real spirit, and nobody gives a damn how important or good looking you are. Unless, of course, you've genuinely got something to say...
Amassing data, digging deeper, spreading the disease, standing back and laughing at the trouble mere information can cause when the truth finally sees light.
The David Bowie LP Dave Stein insisited he listen to repeatedly in 1977. It was a slippery slope from there to the Sex Pistols and then the (early) Bad Brains, really! And the crazy but rewarding, creative life that follows. He still recommends it.
Gentlemen, we must all hang together, or we shall assuredly all hang separately...
Ben Franklin on the signing of the Declaration of Independence, 1776, though some scholars now question whether he really said it. It's good anyway.
Maybe in the punk days, the guy I was talking to may have had a toilet seat around his head, but at least we were talking, exchanging information...
Joe Strummer, The Clash, may he R.I.P.
At least I'm trying! What the fuck have you done?
Ian MacKaye, Minor Threat
Can You Help a fellow American that's down on his luck?
Humphrey Bogart to Bugs Bunny
Aw damn. Somebody go back and get a shitload of dimes...
Slim Pickens in Blazing Saddles, confronted by the dummy toll booth (too much of life is like this, although it's always funny...).