Peacocks and Blackhawks

I’ve got this thing about having my shades and windows open……closed dark rooms remind me of freebase and mtv…so…I wake here every morning to a specific auditory sequence…first..the morning call to prayers ..I have tried to incorporate this into my touring routine with my band the jackmormons..but nobody wants to wake at 5am ( assuming they have actually gone to bed ) with me screaming at them about the new sharia rules in Arabic…..they’ve been down that road before and it never ends well.. Second…the peacocks start complaining ..beautiful bird with the same soothing musical properties as Jenny Conlee Serbian/ Bartok accordion riffs at the end of a five day ayahuasca binge ….and thirdly …the American Blackhawk helicopters ( that adorably fly in pairs like macaws) ..headed to ” work”… Word is there’s a lot of ” work” here in the mountains…the Taliban announced their spring offensive and say what you will..these guys stick to the plan…you look at these choppers as apogee of American battle technology…and think about the Taliban going up against them with….I dunno….’85 vintage Russian Kaleshnakovs and ..er…swords…..big points for massive cajones These guys crawl out of a cave or a foxhole and a guy in a Doha absinth bar …calls in a drone strike on his iPad…and suddenly it’s raining hellfire missiles on your morning constitutional ..before you can say ” who wants chai?”
So. Asalam Allahlaikum…squawk squawk squawk…chop chop chop chop…..needless to say..I’m awake.
I’m conflicted as to where to start here…my kidnapping or my taco truck? There’s a local expat who just got a massive book deal based on his kidnapping and escape from the well they threw him in…shackled and starved..and wet…a horror story of bad hospitality and constant mumblety peg games involving daggers and his head ….in the end the captors went out for tea and this ridiculously awesome afghan ice cream ( drenched in rose water and pistachios….I’m thinking this shit is reason enough alone that everybody since Alexander the Great has tried to occupy this place)…leaving him alone to rappel( climb..scramble?) out of said well..souvenir shackles in hand ..and a lecture circuit agent booking him in the five figures….granted this makes everybody a tad jealous….still, to the man…everyone I’ve talked is calling bullshit…the word is he holed up with back to back Lost/ The Wire box sets and did a twenty day master cleanse…and called it good. So …I’m in…I have a excellent tale of midnight rides in a trunk (who would have thought in a gazillion years that those 1980s Russian Latas would ever become vintage “have to haves” among the trendier Kabul kidnappers) many days forced to listen to The Doors, Mega Death…and some Dave Mathews hands across the water Urdu tribute disc…being fed nothing but vegan dal and soap scraps…and practicing bikram in a goat shed with a naked French Algerian named Brutus ..ruff times..tho the orchestrated break out by the Moroccan burka riot girl Vespa gang..was worth the ink alone……. I’ll be at Powells books in portland doing a reading soon…Alfred Howard and Willy Vlautin take note
Still…this shit is pretty old hat in this neighborhood….so..you tend to sit around post hair ripping after failing miserably trying to teach ” master of puppets ” chunk kunks and hammer pulls to kids who think reggae is a sour fruit paste for hippie antiquarians ( they could be right) and the proper Freddie Mercury pout to the kid who actually gets the whole ” star” thing and rolls in a hour late asking for the number for Jon my agent ., thinking about.”what does this town need? ”
My friend Humayun and I were driving around town. A typical cruise..shoot some photos of Michael Lewis and Robin( check her awesome band Arc Iris) dancing on burnt out Russian tanks..picking up sim cards and more frikken ice cream..avoiding the machine gun nests..or in Humayun’s case..playing chicken with them and the taxis with British side steering wheels on American side roads….(anyone of those American pro gun fucktards should take about twenty minutes here..stare down a teenager with a Duct taped kalesh while shopping for mangos and pepto ..and then shut the fuck up) ..go by the blown to shit palace of the king…beat away 20 street kids literally hanging off your car because jerry thought it was good karma to hand one kid a 20AF note..( there is something to be said about giving Humayuns money away) and then a race around the roundabout with six truck loads of afghan security forces ..probably protecting the new French superstar of the kidnapping lecture circuit ( or the vice presidential candidate ,whose claim to fame is executing his enemies by rolling over them in tanks…sweetheart!) scowling at you whilst staring thoughtfully at their spanking new American M1 …and you get a little hungry
So we are opening a chain of taco trucks. Choloban. Get it? East LA cholo meets Taliban ( hysterically cool right?) Lamb and chicken tacos with smoked tomato chutney and fresh mint and chili washed down with ice cold Thumbs Up sodas from India and and fresh squeezed pomegranate juice …what with the whole zeta cartel presence and smack for limes initiative …we have the neccesary serranos and achiote for the most insane biryani/ arroz con chivo …we r starting with 3 trucks….well one old mujahideen troop carrier ..and two converted DHL delivery vans…we are embracing the tribal gang vibe…so ” it’s not just a taco…it’s a vato jihadi fashionista lifestyle ” You pull up a plastic chair..give the woman in a full metal turquoise burka a few alms..while listing to our awesome mariachis …a donkey cart here ( I’m not making this up) is called a Karachi ..and the Pakistanis are known to be the best rockers in the hood ..plus they have ISI security training …so….wait for it….. El Karachi Mariachis …( you had to see that coming ) we are securing visas for a couple of my brother Michael’s Ensenada pescaderos’ wives to come immediately with 3 pallets of masa…to teach the kids the art of tortilla making…( tho trust me here…if anybody in this town offers you a fish taco…you should fucking run..it’s a long way to the sea and I’ve seen what’s going into the Kabul river and eating the fresh catch would be a serious miscalculation) So it’s on. Choloban.( It’s On Choloban…being yet another excellent shirt concept ) We r taking investor portfolios now…meet us on chicken street between 3 and 5 pm. Bring cash..a bunch of it…and baby wipes….
Gotta run..the Ramble West drone is shooting ( no pun intended ) the reinactment of my goat bikram captivity……more soon.
It’s On Choloban ! Salam.


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Kabulquerque

Looking out that little window on the exit door by the bathroom on the Turkish air 330…..one is struck by the endless expanse of white meets brown endlessness and more endless endlessness .huge snowy peaks and big rivers of brown spring run off thru valley after valley of brown landscape…the packed 3am flight to Kabul lands …..and suddenly you realize something is wrong..perhaps you just slept 16 instead five hours…because you’ve been here…and it’s not the Hindu Kush…..thru some trick of the gods or Will Kiburz we’ re in New Mexico…a heavily armed ..possibly under siege …and Starbucks shortaged..NM…but here nevertheless…..this was a lot of trouble to get to Albuquerque
I know this place… Brown rocks and dirt..surrounded by huge mountains…armed gangs of brown guys..on beige dusty streets..high altitude desert vibe…local natives in traditional garb….mud caked houses and beat up cars and blacked out windows on SUVs…I’m looking around for the RC Gorman prints and Eric Mcfadden posters…but weirdly there’s not a stylized coyote or manzanita bush to be found.. ..and then people start speaking ….Oye Esse… Bienvenido’s de Albuquerque is not what I’m hearing..replace the cholla with razor wire …Michael Lewis is allahwa’alaikuming everybody….we r indeed here in Kabul
There was a lot of pre game hype and worry and fear and at moments darkeness about this trip…at one point in Istanbul we were receiving intelligence from off grid Kurdish Rainbow Family (KRF) and the Phish lot nitrous mafia (PNM) that was pretty much..” Go ahead and go…but your gonna die” even the ex military Turkish high end cotton towel vendor guy was laughing about us going somewhere where in his words ….everyone dreams of killing us.. And indeed there was quite a bit of sitting in a Moda ( Istanbul..Asian side Williamsburg ) coffee place soul searching as to if this was worth me not seeing my kids again and Michael soiling his vintage kitty print footsie pjs ..tough decisions ..but ..we were gonna look like douchebags if we raised all that money and came home with Black Sea tans ..and a large Paris credit card bill…and had never showed the stones to get on the plane to AF …plus for me ..I’ve been on a endless mission to go anywhere my well traveled parents haven’t been …and there’s not much out there ..Chad, Detroit and Kabul…a short list…so you know…I really needed to get here …
Places are never what you think they are going to be…there’s that weird thing where you’ve spent a lifetime looking at news
feeds and magazine articles and you land somewhere and it’s all familiar..I felt that a lot in Saigon…but once you smell it and hear it and feel whatever vibe…it’s completely different than your expectations… About five minutes after getting the car with Humayun ( who looks likes a cross between Navden Andrews from Lost and a famous Pakistani cricketer ) I seriously chilled out
Humayun is ( with his partner Robin) a founder of the rockschoolkabul and a place here called the Venue .once you get thru the metal gates in the mud looking Dari tagged walls…you get into a courtyard of pomegranate and mulberry trees ..and a very cool venue….and instantly…all the holy shit …my next video will be my beheading on BBC world news worries go away….there are bigger ..and frankly more pressing issues here….a crisis I understand and can feel in my bones as I’ve been down this road…. How r we going to get enough avocados to make guacamole for 25 people?
This is when the shit gets serious ..and one needs to stand and fucking deliver …so off we go…you can feel the urgency in everyone’s breathing….into town..in Kabul …we r on a mission …you can tell Mark Wahlberg …I know right where he’s fucking at dude
Then there’s the whole thing about the limes
As you kids at home probably have heard…there’s this whole crisis about lime shortages due to Mexican cartel shenanigans with lime producers in Mexico resulting in $5 a lb limes in portland Whole Foods…in some circles this is eclipsing global warming and gay marriage as the issue of the day ( at least in my alberta street n portland neighborhood )…so allow me to drop some massive insider intel here. If I never see the Grammys maybe this will get me a Pulitzer ..( glen greenwald take note)
There is a shortage of limes in the US ..because…wait for it….the Zeta and Sinaloa cartels are moving into the Pashtun.in a smack for citrus deal with the Taliban ….large shipments of non organic ( Taliban dont give a fuck about Monsanto ) limes ( along with unsellable fuerte avos) are being traded for the Jerry Garcia memorial stamped afghan pershz…it’s a win win for these guys……the cartels can get away from that nasty ass black tar ..into the $800 a gram manna …and the fundamentalists get fresh and tasty guacamole…..plus there’s a rumor ..( unnamed local source) ..that a few local imams are at this moment declaring that agave distilled spirits are indeed halal ..and not in violation of the local dietary rules ..this is massive….all those frikken bottles of Pepe Lopez now have a home…the Taliban spring offensive has been changed to a cinco de mayo sombrero dance …Certain factions have rebranded as Los Lobos Del Norte and I shit you not…there is an al pastor taco truck out in front of the Yemeni embassy ….. And the local DJs are spinning a mash up of Nusrat Fatah Ali khan-Mana-Manu Chou …breaking fucking bad indeed …so even tho we are supposed to be teaching kids to play System of a Down tunes today…we are all going out for blue corn enchiladas and a tecate… Esta todo bien aqui….welcome to kabulquerque

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Halawesome

6am...the calls to prayer woke me and apperantly every chicken in my
sultanhamet hood,both are morning sounds I never tire of.. Sitting on the
roof of my inexpensive hotel..Blue Mosque ,Sophia Hagia .the
Bosphorus,Europe and Asia laid out before me..along with pickles and salad
and eggs and a huge ass stack of halewe ..I would put this view at this
moment up with any view of anything anywhere I've seen....Istanbul
I'm one of those people that regularly falls in love with a city and spends
considerable amounts of my imagination daydreaming about living wherever I'm
visiting...after last nights trip by tram up to Taksim Square...shopping and
coffee and riots and ice cream and burkas and goth metal-electronic - pouty
ballad rockers- and this drum bass and violin thing..and a lot..I mean a lot
of armored... police vehicles ...clearly the most life threatening thing
being these fucking violins....looking like a mashup of Beirut  meets the
Ravel in Barcelona .....I have developed a mean aversion to Turkish delight
and did I mention these violins that actually make me miss the mandolin..an
instrument I have been known to use for kindling.....then  there's the thing
about tissue...you travel the world and poor people everywhere have
something they are selling for pennies on the street..chiclettes in
Mexico.tiger balm in Nepal, sage sticks at American hippie fests and tranny
blowjobs in Bangkok ..here in Istanbul..it's packets of tissue..like
everybody is suddenly going to sneeze or shit their pants......and of course
the black tar heroin coffee...you chew it..but unlike chewing tobacco you
swallow it ..to the same effect..of gagging and unclear stimulant
reward....put this shit in your mouth with a creme de menthe Turkish
delight..and one is reminded of injecting a placidyl/ dilaudid
combo..complete with a blood and burnt spoon taste ..and a decidedly non
stimulating gag reaction that I suppose makes one nostalgic for injectable
80s pharmaceuticals .  Big times..no wonder these robo-cop Byzantine warrior
pigs are so edgy ...sometimes one looks at third world riot police with
skeptacism ...these gentlemen however..look like they can feed you your
balls which they would relish serving you ..in a preparation presented by
the sword ice cream guy ...all the more reason for heavy respect for these
kids coming out to riot...it makes one consider our Occupy movement or Tea
Party movements..well...a tad toothless ...these kids don't sit quietly
while getting gassed in the face...nobody's fucking around here.....tho
there does seem to be some dedicated truce time for everyone to enjoy a beer
or coffee or sing along to the nasty ass violins
I have been enjoying this amazing place with a couple good friends ..here
for only the Istanbul portion is my good friend James Patrick Dalton..or
JPAT....Jpat was actually born on a New Jersey yacht ..with Loggins and
Messina Vahevalah Onward Sailor playing for his birth..he has since gone on
to become a global troubadour....that guy on the Stockholm -Helsinki cruise
playing the blues harp and singing van morrison that you can't decide
whether to stab him and throw him overboard or muss up his hair and give him
a big wet schnapps drenched kiss...having attempted both..I can attest the
kiss actually has its feel good properties...and he has that, as they say in
shanghai ( according to him) the "face" and respect that apparently one gets
from showing up to a five star restaurant in a nice shirt ripped jeans and
flip flops...tho even the Chinese had to threaten him with a shot to the
head or deportation if he ventured even one more blow on the ole blues
harp...Jpat and I have now been in a number of countries..cementing my
hatred of the blues and awe of his ice cream sword skills
Another major character in my life is my friend Michael Lewis...we are
leaving for Afghanistan in ( edited for ambiguity purposes)hours and are
thinking of Istanbul as our pre jihadi -Mohammed Atti ..get it while you can
moment ...if you can call sugar and cigarettes and bead shopping an
equivalent to Miami strip clubs and scotch...which you can't..don't bother.
..traveling with Michael always opens those particular doors that are closed
to all but ..aging Jewish looking bald gay men and their younger..." No
really I love him for who he is...it's not about the money "  dark handsome
fashionista boy friends...and tho it's true Michael can do things with a
kaftan that only certain select and illegal porn sites can provide insight
into...the fact that he's not gay comes as a even more brutal disappointment
to hopeful woman who face his rejection.....the
apostasy-homoaesthetic-culture club dandy- rumour/vibe aside.....there's a
lot of things that make him an excellent travel companion..and we've been
quite a few places together... He doesn't play either blues harp or
violin..he knows the appropriate colored Cambodian Khmer scarf for every
occasion....he can say thank you in 200 languages..he packs serious
heat..and unbeknownst to most is a psychotic albeit perfectly attired
ruthless killer ( official afghan internet monitors and Taliban sympathizers
..please take note). Plus..plus,,, he can tie my bow tie for warranted
occasions ..sadly... Due to his tasteful and restrained guitar playing with
my band the jackmormons..he's more hated by jackmormon fans then me..which.
Trust me here...is a hell of a thing ....anyway...good friends .good
times..you get the picture...plus our friend John joined us for a Friday
dinner in a tower lighthouse thing in the middle of the Bosphorus...the
story being it was built by a sultan to protect his daughter from assassins
and Jpat/Michael type suitors...sadly ending how most of these stories
do...with tragic asp bite..and trying too hard restaurant ..that serves a
questionable version of Steak a la Sultan...for the occasion john showed up
on a cruise ship..a sailing city...weirdly..he's the only passenger..he
needs the gym access...and all was good until he ( we think mistakenly )
handed a little tissue selling gypsy girl a 500 euro note instead of a five
euro note....having seen a spider monkey ripped apart alive by a pack of
pasotes in the OSA...I can tell you ,,this child's death at the hands of the
other tissue urchins...was far and away the most brutal death of its
type....john was quickly whisked away by Sardinian Navy Seals..( his
"people") ..and is now getting some " quiet time " somewhere off the
Crimea..where ..he has a couple " meetings" with a bunch of guys named Vlad
...tragic...but exciting never the less..wouldn't you say?
The moment is here for us to head to the airport...lessons learned ...never
eat from a " row of restaurants "  never eat anything with the word Sultan
in it...do not pinch the beautiful dark Fabio bikram teacher and ask if he's
real...the woman in the full metal burkas do not think you're funny...never
let Jpat sing " Danny Boy " at your wake...don't mistake the words tear gas
and Chanel...do not refer to a police officer in a Muslim country as a
pig...regardless of the ruff cavity search..accept the humiliating laughter
when you tell Turks your going to Afghanistan ..don't let them mix yours and
michaels laundry unless you want to show up in a war zone with pink bikini
briefs and chartreuse polo shirts.....I'm sure I'm forgetting something
here...but Kempler is  on the phone trying to finalize my will and keeps
telling me all publishing shall revert to Junior upon my untimely death
..and Junior keeps texting " are you there yet???"   My son Judah said
..when I told him I was worried about the safety of his Mars Mission
ambitions...." Aw dad...you'll be in heaven long before I get to
Mars...apparently he's at home at this moment. Wearing his space suit and
repeatedly texting.." Hey dad..are you there yet? " ....hmmmmm...ok....rides
here.  Salam.   J

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OOAAII [curse of the long pig]

its a popular legend among the locals…OOAAII [pronounced oh oh ah ah ee ee] arrived in Hana at the exact time the prophecies said he would…dinner time to be exact..at the “rastatudes”pizza night…a rainbow of toppings , a suggested conch shell donation and..unfortunately..a ukulele jam… he bore no gifts ..he had no song to sing..he wore no clothes except a large peacock feather headdress, in a place many thousands of miles from the nearest peacock. he was a large man…the color of coconut shells. he was in excellent humor and was well fed,rumors of a diet of long pig followed him around the island…but you know the haters..always dropping long pig rumors… he spoke very little…but when the boys hit into the uke jams…OO would dance..
it was the dance of the 7 veils,the dance of the moons of jupiter,a tongan salsa,a fijian watutsi, Pele and Moana could barely keep up…..and when the skull drummers started cracking skulls..OO would do the “butter churn” churning the butter…mowing the grass..it was fucking pandemonium..it was the dance of war…it was the dance of peace..but one thing was very clear..above the cacophony of cracked skulls and ukeleles ,of virgins being thrown into the crater..of screaming rainbow dysyntary victims….it was indeed…the dance of love
..and they loved him..’the gods call me OOAAII” he said…”but you my good people ,can call me bobby” so they called him Bobby OO they loved him and they danced. he traveled around the island like a crack addled sufi..whirling and churning and mowing..the princesses were throwing themselves at him ..the princes were throwing themselves at him..it was a orgy of dance and sweat and fire…the road to Hana littered with the fallen ..the exhausted smiles of countless acolytes . ..there were not enough wet wipes for everyone..so they lay helpless in puddles of love and papaya juice…but they were happy..they drank of the rainbows and danced some more..the entire island of maui..in rythym..in time…the gods were smiling..the whales were breaching..everyone was churning the butter..and there was peace
after 40 days of non stop dancing… bobby OO looked around ..”brothers and sisters ” he cried.’you are the beautiful chosen children..and we shall always dance together in the rainbow light” “.then very solemnly he said ” but we cannot dance on light alone…i am fucking starving!…where can i get a taco?”
and they realized.. Bobby OO was a mexican..so they cracked his skull and ate him. the curse of the long pig.
when asked to sum up hawaii in a word…my word would be poi have you had it? if so, you know what i’m talking about….if not….its sticky,exotic and very good for you..still……um…perhaps you should try it.. i admit, i was pretty nervous about my wife going to maui for the first time. they are actually hiring teachers there. and its got all the rainboworganicrawfoodyogawhalesandgodsandsunandmorerainbows thing she loves. i have a weird relationship with the place..granted, no one would tell you my aura is “rainbow” i’m not talking good gay here…i am talking rainbow..like on the license plates…and though i have spent some hours sitting at the edge of a pinapple field waiting for tommy greenleafs “fed exes” {back when we lived with the gay royalty refugees from indonesia and the pleiades,who turned into owls at night..i could not make this up] i have always had a ruff connection. for starters i dont really like the hawaiians…can i say this?? am i racist?.maybe…tough shit…its true…i can assure you they dont like me..in the excellent book “overthrow” by stephan kinzer, it talks about the trickery and military threats that led to the queen Liliuokalani capitulating and handing over the islands to the US . a nasty sad story. i would however, point out..the Maoris.in New Zealand having been given the same option..fought the musket wars..for 35 years….only losing to the brits because in the spirirt of good warmanship..they waited for the british boats to let the brits reload..seriously…just saying.
then theres the prices..look..i lived in manhatten awhile..i get high prices..but after coming from countries that the average monthly income is 60 dollars..maui is retarded.
Mana’s is the long time very cool organic hippie market in paia if you spend $150 dollars you get a groovy manas tote bag…i can assure you..your second bag of groceries will be the groovy tote bag..its insane . most of the people i know who really have it going on in hawaii.[and they really have it going on] are pretty well off…its an amazing place to raise kids. and it must be said .there are more beautiful women with yoga mats walking alone down deserted roads than anywhere in america..plus.. it is indeed absolutely fucking stunningly beautiful…but…..you know…so is telluride..and i have alot of the same feelings about telluride.
so .it was indeed a treat for bobbyOO to have the jmos “con familia” for a 4 show run on maui and for me..as i have said before..there is nothing in my work that compares to playing with junior and steve at ear splitting volumes..it makes me really happy..regardless of how fucking jet lagged i am… reentry to the US is always weird…but coming into hawaii..is like landing in a purgatory designed by an artistically astute fertility god who surfs like a badass…all in all..pretty damn cool
it was also the last breath for the jmos before we head into record release world..Happy Book..our new double disc, release is set for the 20th of this month. i would imagine its going to be long year of promoting ..and i think and hope..this record is deserving of a listen. that said…its ..you know ..the jackmormons..both our fans will buy one..everybody else will eat molly and call out for north -nica -north ..and i’m only talking about stage right….still..i am pretty proud of the record. at the end of the day tho a career of mauis and tulums and such isnt so bad….i am currantly on a richmond to baltimore train.its fucking snowing ,maui already seems along way away…thanks to all who came out..and barring the whole mr sherm and the centipede argriculture inspection fiasco.[again..denied entry]..it was a sucess…if you listen carefully to the western winds blowing off the oregon coast during a winter storm, you can hear the stomping and churnng and mowing…or you can order the steamed mussels..and hold the shells up to your ears..same same….churning the butter baby…mahalo…goodnight noises everywhere
mr jerry

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So Sorry Mr Jerry..You Are Now In Tokyo

there is a character in William Gibsons excellent “Pattern Recognition” that says, jet lag is your soul catching up with you. so as of this writing..5am at bobbys in maui..i am a little unclear my soul made it out of the hipster blue lucky 7 smoking lounge at Narita. the ticket said taipei – honolulu..nothing was mentioned about japan..and .well..so sorry..please leave the plane..see you in 4 hours…last time i saw my soul it was trying on next years prada sunglasses and waving mr sherms credit card.
so..its done…mr franks wild ride….typical wild ride syndrome…seems like a year seems like a day… land in america… shiity food..check…mean armed cops..check..fat fat children ..check…aloha mother fucker…tell us again what you were doing in cambodia?. and why you smell like banana, spiders and mailbu rum? nice to be home…ish.
i dont think anyone wants to hear how exhausted i am …when i first ran this trip up the flagpole with my wife…it was a couple weeks in southeast asia..late birthday mid life crisis..write a couple songs.slurp some pho..embrace the accordian…i am a very lucky man shes still talking to me.
this was an exercise in many things , domestic responsibility not being one of them. it turned into the type of thing that makes {insert sean connerys accent here} an adventure. no plan..no money..no clue. thru the grace of my friends i was able to go..without justin and sherm and frank and teri i would not have been able to do this trip..these people made it happen for me.and i am very grateful. i have never had hit records, huge shows ,nice cars[high profile drug problems perhaps}...but i am blessed with amazing people in my life.
this trip was alot of things..but mr frank said it best..after he said "mr jerry this is your lesson in humiliation"..he said 'this is about learning about ourselves" and indeed ,this has proven to be true. every watermelon since 1961? i had no idea.
justin ,sherm and i ..didnt know each other that well..this was a hell of a way to bro down..and it could have gone seriously wrong. mr frank and i are both anime cabaret versions of alpha males..and have been known to butt heads..and that could have gone seriously wrong. instead ..it seemed the point was the exercise in learning to roll with it...i thought i knew a thing or 2 about rolling with it...but when you have a handfull of tarantulas and no pepto..and all those bills in your pocket equal 3 dollars...you lean on your friends..and hopefully they can lean on you. people came in and out at the exact right time,clark and duane and joe and ellen and carison and becca and sal and ali and kraig and mr sam...everyone in their own way made this trip happen its important to me that people reading this know...i pretty much get thru the day because i have been fortunate enough to have caring compassionate loving people around me...left to my own devices i am a ADD addled watermelon stacker who couldn't stack his way out of a paper bag... and they are not afraid to put me in my place..mr sherm coined it again.. aggressive passive..sums me up.
the last show was killer...WTF was in a hipster soho'ish neighborhood nippon chic..quaint and cool..ali rubbed some weird ointment on his taser scars and kicked the shit out of it...mr frank besides crying all the way thru ten killer fairies...had figured out how to bring his brand of international criminal polka to every tune with grace and melody...it was cool then it was over..
" Lets go to southeast asia and hop in a tuk tuk with mr frank and play shows...dude it will be fucking awesome" rarely does that kind of idea come to fruition[there are good reasons for this] and dude ,we dropped some serious durian..if you know what i mean..NMF…well…besides the american consulate having to apologize in every country for mr sherm…[we are really sorry about the elephants and mr sherm promises to send the pussy trumpets back immediately..oh..and the dead snakes in KL myhome2 .. room 27?.um..we suggest bleach}..tho even they understand “learning to love again”…here i am digressing ….again..i cant get the hang of returning to the point…the point being…its unclear what the point was…we said we would do it….its all on film,…people stepped the fuck up to the plate..we did it..
thank you
so…here at bobbys….haiku..maui…wide awake…spent the evening at woodrows listening to old songs and starting to write more…suns coming up. theres a big rainbow in front of me….my son judah and my wife teri will be here soon.i am beyond excited….i feel like its xmas morning, tho its going to be hard to explain the dragons in flagrante delicto tattoo on my fat belly…we will work thru it
next adventure starts……now
goodnight noises everywhere……………mr jerry

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Pussy Needle and the Motorcycle Emptiness

sit on the back of Suzuki 420 Collision …doing 80 KPH..during sukimvet rush hour traffic.with a yaba smoking 15 year old driver ,who will be reincarnated manana..talking on a burner ..while looking for your stupid expensive hotel..while you contemplate the nature of sex blogging ..hit a pink taxi..turn into pink mist …yippi ki yay
welcome to bangkok cowboy..
lets talk about sex…shall we?
mr justin,mr carison and mr joe…were intrigued..and a little frightened by the menu and yet…..
“god damn it mr ellen..we have a table we need to order something” said mr joe
clearly..we were not going to get those wicked awesome shrimp cakes in plastic bag with chili cilantro and fish sauce it says right there…in bold type pussy menu
pussy ping pong,pussy razor,pussy banana,firecracker pussy,pussy calligraphy,man pussy,pussy singing,pussy trumpets playing a Whitney Houston memorial medley…and dude…i do not want to fucking know the what, why or how of ..pussy needle i recall reading about this in a brad rosen short story…the elephant pussy needle..and that was hard to shake..
“what’ll it be mr justin?”
‘a cigarette mr jerry and a photo pass”
‘ can we all agree ,mr carison needs to quit shrieking and climb out from under the table?.bad things have happened there and i don’t think they’re using sanitary wipes”
‘management has requested that mr joe cut it with the jackal laugh..its scaring the girls…they are currently pulling a rope of razors out of their ‘work station”..and startling them is not fucking cool’
‘i think mr becca needs to throw more water on mr sherm…he’s mumbling about cupid and love pong balls…and…oh..nasty …did that banana just land in your drink?
“500 baht for a glass of ice??…no i dont want to tip the banana girl 1000 baht!!!!?
” carison…do not come out from under the table…no matter what”
“yea joe…shes cute..and sure shes “different”from the rest…if for no other reason than shes hung like a fucking horse”
“somebody needs to get mr ellen out of the “bathroom”..its….just …not safe ”
” dude…wasn’t that chick a “friend of juniors” back in 99?..wait…is that junior?”
and lastly….”mr justin…you need to wipe the banana off your face…and no…shes not going to play “porch song” no matter how many of the green ones you throw her way”.
ok….want to swear off sex for a liftime?..go to patpong…and see the upstairs show…
i am an entertainer…i get it…learn a skill…do it front of people for money and hand claps..wipe off the razor blades..crawl home..dont look in the mirror…and back to work the next night
if you ever wanted fodder for a convincing argument against prostitution[tho it was unclear these women were indeed available for take out...these poor girls are the up country..heavy set .un-models...and they are fucking miserable] hang out on patpong at 2 in the morning and watch these girls and boys and inbetweens go home…they are exhausted..they are poor.they look degraded..and tho i know about getting old in a young persons profession…at least i dont have 15 drunk old fat australians yelling at me to put 5 sparklers in my ass while doing a choreographed dance to ‘paradise city” [alabama doesn't count}.
your asking ..."why the fuck would you go to such a place?..becuase its there..because its bangkok..because when your in cambodia you see angkor wat..and when your in bangkok for the first time you see this..and hopefully for you..you never see it again.
we could talk int the wee hours about the pros and cons of the sex trade here...i am talking about the over 18 legal sex trade..and it is indeed legal...there are 2.8 million sex workers in thailand..they are recognized by the buddah..who also recognizes men..women and those who fall under "both" some of these girls go home to thier village and buy a house and a car and a water buffalo and are the most eligable women in town...some of them them are sold by thier parents..i suppose you could ask them ...in the end...its money..there is a sub class of women here who work " weekends.putting themselves thru school..saving for a car.or a dowry ...its acceptable..and regardless of what we may think..its done and often with pride
remember when we were all running around getting nike and Jcrew to shut down their sweatshops..well we did it...add 200,000 women to the sex industry...nice job "concerned liberal american"[i include myself here]…
a fun detective series to read .. Bangkok 8…actually delivers a pretty good insight in to this issue..everyone here has read it…and i am not the writer to astutely comment..nor am i [unbelievably] a patron..the Lord and thousands of other people know i have alot of bad habits…but hookers was never my thing…i tell myself ,thats why i got in a band..so wouldnt have to sit with the aussie 50 plus punters or mr carl and pretend the girls “like me” i am insanely lucky..a smart beautiful wife..adorable children..and ..if it hasn’t been mentioned before..i actually wrote “boom boom boom’
still…there are plenty of lonely people out there who need someone to be nice to them,talk to them..and ultimately fuck them..and if your politically correct ass doesnt understand that…then you have a narrow view of humanity…its whats for dinner in most countries…americans just leave the illicit fucking to republicans and football coaches..and then support a 5 billion dollar a year porn industry that..trust me…is alot more insidious and horrific than this.
plus…its a whitney Houston memorial medley for christs sake[christ being another historical figure not unfamiliar with the pussy menu.]
so…as i cant really comment on the red shirt vs yellow shirts battles..or the army rounding up 3000 yaba dealers and quietly executing them..or the floods…this is one of the main talking points….tho i do think its a bit extreme that mr carison signed up for ‘classes”
its about over here…mr justin left first,covered in sticky fruit something or other..his camera having been confiscated by the trumpet girl…carison needed to get to “aspen” and will return for “classes” shortly…we played at a awesome place last night..a “Bandido” [yea..those bandidos] club house..with the most awesome proprietor Pok…motorcycle emptiness…we were lucky as mr ali..carries a french and algerian passport..so…when the iranians start throwing grenades[actually not one person believes this..the guy was wearing a mossad shirt for fucks sake]..and your name is ali…from algeria..going to meet mr frank and mr jerry…see my facebook photo..there are issues..theres going to be questions and cattle prods…hes ok..tho he and mr sherm seem to hug and cry alot…mr joe is still as far as i know pulling razor blades out of his ass..and mr ellen and mr becca are shopping for lidocaine suppositories …stay tuned on that one…
chop chop plays our last asia show at the WTF club mr skinner holding the camera…it may be awhile before anyone sees mr sherm….hes been asked to come down for questioning again..i should have mentioned that the shirt he borrowed from me says “hezzabollah…representing since 1986″..that combined with his recent order of “dancing bears and snake in sauce” at yet another “menu palace…suffice to say ..it could take awhile..hes asking for someone to ship him his “stabilizer meds” fedfuckingex….ok…show time…i think i;m going with the taxi..
goodnight noises everywhere…… mr jerry bangkok

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It Could Go No Other Way

mr Sam has that look again,
‘so sorry mr jerry…but the elephant rides have been canceled and we must leave immediately ”
‘what do you mean canceled Mr Sam? we are ready to film my version of Tall Boy while i ride Effie the Elephant ” the kids are excited”
“again…so very sorry..but we must leave now”
” what the fuck? why mr samurai?
“sooooooooo sorry …it is Mr Sherm..he cannot be near the elephants”
“huh?”
“mr jerry…it is very dangerous…it is Valentines day…we must leave NOW!!!!!”

ok…back story here:
a little known fact in cambodia..when you have a friend in jail you can “swap” him for another person…providing that person is a predatory sexual deviant. faced with the crushing faluire of Mr Joe to extract Mr Sherm from the tombs of PP , we had to move quickly.
“predatory sexual deviant ” said mr Justin…” of fucking course…Mr Carl!!”
with in minutes of mr Justins phone call…mr Carls “good friends”the police…swooped down on the Shanghai bar..pulling mr carl out by his ears. mr carl not seeming to get it..looked at the jaw hanging locals and said ‘dont sweat it baby..its for the movie”
so sorry mr carl… your not Polanski champ…those girls you say love you..are 12 and you pay them…diseased old alcoholic yaba sex…is not the “new black”….um..i digress.
the long short is we freed Mr Sherm!!! the russians and fat old sexpats and pho cookers were dancing in the streets…everyone relieved and jubuliant about mr Blue Shirt Sherm being out among the living again . there was unforunatly unforeseen consequences.. and it may take years of “group therapy” to help mister Sherm look at the world with his previous “happy place” outlook
a note to his friends and family back home:
1.”be my Valentine ” means something very different here
2.never put out bowls of candy hearts
3.never allow mr Sherm to see pictures of Cupid or any other arrow toting cherubs
4.that cute mimed “i heart you ” thingy…dont do that…ever
Sherm is going to need to learn how to “love ” again…and this will take years
the elephants have an innate sense of these things ,at at this moment they are frightened and angry. and frankly a tad embarrassed….Tall Boy ..will have to wait.
we are in Siem Reap…its Sihanoukville…but with no beach..oh…and Angkor Wat. as of this writing we are leaving in 2 hours for Bangkok..the news its full of reports of bombings and potential bombings in the neighborhood mr Frank wants to meet in..so of course we are going, as Mr Frank famously says..”it could go no other way”
Cambodia..we have fallen in love with this place..and very grateful to be able to see it now…like all cool places it is changing rapidly,and to be sure ,it wont be the same…more power to the Khmer people as they get their game on and can watch foriegn dollars roll in…they deserve every penny
the last few days have been unreal and beautiful…a couple great gigs…the Equinox club was the first real mash up of a crowd and a decent PA system..Mr Frank was on point..Mr Ali…”bring it like jihad” el doumbek awesomeness..really cool show…topped off with the arrival of the mr joe and mr ellen kempler tears were shed..Mr joes incessant laughing will be remembered by generations of cambodians as the laugh of the jackal god[weird as there are no jackals here] , all the local kids are sporting his particular shade of silver nail polish…cultural throw down indeed [and possible interpol warrants]
the Foreign Correspondents Club..was the actualization of “it could go no other way” the PA? er…plugged in backwards to the microwave would be understating…we asked for help..and received huge plates of “frog with ingredients” and thats what it sounded like..ultimately resulting in us moving to the floor and sans sound system having one of the best shows of the tour
however …the next days “tuk tuk sessions” where we ..mr frank mr ali and mr jerry climbed into said tuk tuk..with mr justin filming..mr sal and mr sherm riding along side on the back of”very excited to get paid so much” motos,filming and recording…blessedly,with mr ali’s encyclopedic knowledge of the seedy allys of phnom penh ..it was nothing short of magic…and i hate when people call music magic…its not magic..its work and sweat and hopefully good songs…still there was a enclosed ally that the tuk tuk couldnt go down..we walked in with our instruments.set up in front of the one working shop light..and played…really intense..really ..i felt as far away from the things i know as an american, as i have been on this trip..another world entirely for me. 20 to 30 children.crawling all over us..clapping and singing along to “revolution” and “road home” and trust me on this…it was actual” for real’ magic..i would say the most rewarding and intense musical experience of my life…period. thank you cambodia
the rest of our time has included a Herculean effort on mr chicken fingers part to eat..everyfuckingthing the beef fried in big black ants,the fried tarantulas,stuff we told him was food but…wasn’t. we [mr sherm,justin,joe,ellen,carison,becca,sam mook,me] field-tripped to angkor wat .theres a reason lonely planet calls it the number one thing to see on earth..plus there are monkeys.and a personal plus..lots of jackmormon fans [see picture below}...we were talking with mr sam about cambodia being the most advanced kingdom on the planet at one pint...what happened?.'we got to be too polite ..mr jerry" and that may be true..when you spend your time perfecting your interpersonal respect skills and subtle beautiful dancing...the rock throwers tend to descend and kick your castle over... a quandary to be sure
i am writing this now from bangkok... leaving cambodia was difficult..we saw alot in this month and keep talking about how it would be an amazing place to live... like anywhere in the middle of a resurgence...the possibilities are endless..the people are excited and hopeful about their futures...and the food..well...ask mr justin about the tarantula-slim jim juxtaposition
a huge thanks and toyotatacomabarakobama [said as fast as you can] to mr sam bee,. without his insight and perfect english ,we would have missed half of this stuff see you in the cosmic oil office mr sam thank you…
ok..bangkok…very different blog…so goodnight noises everywhere mr jerry
ps…..i just realized i capped the first half and not the second..there will be explaining to do when i see mr brad ..but basically too lazy to go back and uncap.or recap..as it were

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Brother Number 1

Imagine…if you will. It’s 1970 in California. The revolution is happening. Under duress from the Weather Underground, The Black Panthers, SDS and, a popular uprising… the California National Gaurd is being backed into a corner. California is on its own… let’s assume the same issues are affecting Washington and no federal assistance to the state of California is forth coming,
Ronald Reagan (an ally of Washington and ruling from SF) is currently Governor For Life and ordering the NG to open fire on California civilians. Pandemonium is ensuing. (again..this is imagination time).
Charlie Manson is in Veneta, Oregon, hunkered down with a shit ton of Owsley acid, methamphetamine and the Oregon Country Fair Family… the OCFF,who in this scenario have guns… shipped into Coos Bay by the Chinese.
The OCFF manifesto (remarkably similar to the one later adopted by Pol Pot) is one of a Back to the Earth utopian society. No Western medicine..no teachings of “the man”, or teachers, no religion…priests, gurus, or believers of any faith, no elite bourgeois, no money, no republicans…no conservative thinking at all and, when push came to shove no democrats, or US constitutionalists, no foreigners…and really…for real…nobody over 30 in charge…except Charlie (Brother Number 1) Kesey (Brother Number 2) and, the fat guitar player from the Dead (Brother Number 3…technically a Mexican…but loved by the “people” ) and Sonny Barger (Brother Number 4). There are also a few advisers…ex Trotskyites, Stalinists, Maoists…agrarian Marxist reformers…who promise to leave :-). The dream is to clean the homeland…Oregon and NoCAL as far as Santa Cruz, of all soiled peoples and start fresh…a new utopian life…one with the earth..free of the poison of modernization and evil and…”man it’s gonna be groovy”. “brothers and sisters living in harmony, working together for the greater good, unencumbered by the “man”, “free love..no hassles”.
Up until now…Charlie and the OCFF have been a little known mostly rumored about bunch of hillbilly hippie freaks in the wilds of Oregon…then Reagan starts shooting.
Charlie announces “The Sweep”. The OCFF is about to march south..collecting the Rainbow Warrior Brothers and Sisters from Humboldt, Mendicino, Sonoma and Marin counties..and drive Reagan and his National Front..I mean guards…into the East Bay.
The people of Northern California are elated…joining the OCFF in mass…and indeed Reagan and his staff and immediate family are evacuating SF on a US helicopter while the triumphant OCFF are riding across the Golden Gate in captured tanks, hippie school buses with 50 calibers mounted on top, bicycles and each other’s backs. “it’s fucking beautiful bro”.
Charlie announces they must clear the city to sort the OCFF from the enemy…and in 72 hours, San Francisco is empty. People have been loaded on trucks and sent to rehabilitation camps in the east Vacaville Yuba City etc… The schools are emptied. Teachers…shot…doctors and patients in hospitals…shot…former California government workers…all of them and their families shot…the artists and musicians…shot…the press…shot…in short, known enemies of the people don’t make it to the trucks…
Charlie decrees. “it’s better to kill an innocent then to allow a potential enemy to live” also “to kill you is no loss, to keep you is no gain”
The “kids” 10 to 29 years old are immediately conscripted into the OCFF army and many are assigned the job of rounding up their families and neighbors. Everyone else goes to the camps…high schools have been designated for “information gathering”. The point is to separate the farmers from the urban elite…unfortunately…all the San Franciscans are urban peoples and can’t farm). You go in to Vacaville High..sorry bro…you don’t leave..they take your photo and you sign a confession under unimaginable torture and..yep…you’re shot.
You’ve avoided the high school…but you still head to the camps..bad news…they have run out of bullets…so…with clubs and saws and knifes and hammers you are executed…by hand…the natural way….your babies are taken from you, in front of you…they are swung by their feet against a tree..(they kill the babies…because Charlie doesn’t want them to grow up and seek revenge) then they hit you with whatever heavy thing they have…or slit your throat…kicking you into a pit…if you’re not dead yet..they pour DDT and lye over you…it ensures you’re dead and keeps the smell down. They’ve hooked up speakers to the “Magic Tree”, they are playing songs of the revolution full blast 24/7 in this case…Pig Pen era Dead jams…literally to cover the sound of the screaming
This goes on for 3 years…3 million people are liquidated… This does not include the people who starve, due to faulty tofu production…or those who couldn’t be healed by Wavy Gravy (Brother Number 6) and his cadre of “tree healers”
No foreign nation comes to the rescue …
As my friend Mr. Sam said…” we all prayed to god…and god didn’t come” .
Finally, neighboring Mexico ( in reality Vietnam ) invades and drives the OCFF back into the hills and occupies California for the next 12 years…importing 3 million Mexicans in the process to inhabit the empty SF if you lived…there’s a Mexican guy in your house…and he does not need a fucking green card…because he was the only one who bothered to save your sorry ass.
Charlie and the rest of the OCFF commanders live to ripe old ages.
California has lost an entire generation of people and have hundreds of thousands of ex. OCFF child soldiers who killed their families and neighbors and need to be assimilated into the community and…life resumes. The Buddha said life is suffering…you know this to be true
The End
Post script: this is not that far off base…the US created the vacuum for Pol Pot to fill, by funding and abating the overthrow of King Sihanouk. Because he supported Ho Chi Minh.
I urge you to read the real history…again…Careful of the Sweep.
Don’t forget to by the new record Happy Book forthcoming in march

God Didn’t Come. The Jerry fun blog photos

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Asalam O Alikum Baby

“dude…are you getting this? We are very very fucking late. One more time..take I85. South.to city center…freedom parkway..jimmy carter expressway….get off on N Highland drive..claro Mr Sherm?”
” Mr Jerry….I keep telling you….we are NOT in ATL”
” what are you talking about Mr Sherm? Of course were in fucking Atlanta. . Malls ,traffic ,hills ‘ forests of condos,,endless freeways,sticky hot death air,funny accents,brown people…..where else could we be?listen to me god damn it…I am a SEASONED TRAVELER!!!!!”
” Mr Jerry…..put on your glasses..look at the signs…it’s not English..it’s Malay ..that’s not the Buck Head Four Seasons…it’s a mosque …take the watermelon out of your ass and smell the curry…we are in Kuala Lumpur”
Mr Jerry grunts in understanding
“Mr Jerry…try to get a grip…they cane people here!”
And it’s true…Mr Sherm as usual is correct…we are in Kuala Lumpur and the clock is running out for open mike night,at Bees bar…located in Mall #1036. We have been here for 48 hours and I am still convinced most of the time that we are indeed in Atlanta ..or a hilly version of Miami. ..or anywhere but southeast Asia…we have been in a Mall since we arrived…the airport is a mall…our hotel..the ” My Home Hotel”. With its uniform white boxes..er…rooms..pay extra for towels ,a fan , toilet paper..( that’s not true,,,no toilet paper) …is ..you guessed it,..In a mall
Not surprisingly..there has been some tension in the Chop Chop ranks.
” where the fuck are we Mr Frank?…and what did we ever do to you to deserve detention in little white mall boxes?”
There was over gesculationg.and foot stomping ..a massive loss of face by Mr Jerry for screaming in a Hindu version of a Starbucks…ending in Mr Frank packing his bags
” sayonara watermelon man…your on your own…dick”
Even tho Mr Justin unwisely tried to ” capture the moment” cooler heads prevailed…mostly..
Mr Sal’s “inner child and anger management” work ,combined with the Italian propensity to cry at everything….soothed the ruffled feathers..and we all retired to yet another mall coffee establishment..to hug and apologize and sing some songs together…Mr Sal’s heartbreaking rendition of ” bridge over troubled water” brought everyone ..including the al -Qaeda operatives at the next table to tears…it was a moment…something’s you just can’t “unfeel”.
KL….this is one of the bigger cultural mash ups I have been to…the city is basically 3 groups. The Malay ..primarily Muslim ..subject to sharia law( as in…you fuck up..we cane you). The Chinese( most of the money). And the Hindus ( a lot of the labor). All of these people packed into what can only be described as some Florizona version of urban growth endless..freeways,malls condos,..and construction..Chinese have the concrete..hence the money.and whoever is installing all this AC..well..all I can say is Kaching …we have,however been trying to buy an inflatable pool for days..negative ..Mr Frank says the only inflatables are the little blue pills at the Chinese brothel pill kiosk…Mr Frank has been places I hope to never go..and has an encyclopedic knowledge of all the gum under the table..or..he knows i guy who knows…some things you can’t un-inflate.

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The above photos giving you some idea…we are in a business center…meaning 20 city blocks of shops with office space above them..no one lives here..we are 30 minutes from downtown..and it’s packed..every restaurant,Starbucks..Allah-bucks,Ganesh-bucks…and on and on…there is one of these centers every 2 klicks. There’s a ton of money here…expats and rubber and palm oil and forestry and fishing and textiles . Still…like in Phoenix ,you constantly ask yourself..what the fuck does everyone do? Where are they all going,in these endless traffic jams..well.. They work at the malls dude.And like Phoenix you get the impression they are working hard in malls to able to shop at other malls..and tho it can’t be true..it seems half of them are driving the 2012 BMW SUVs. I was hanging out with some local guys I met…drinking ” milk tea”, last night…and tho they pay high taxes and the government can be restrictive when it wants to be…the general feeling is everyone can make money…the futures wide open. Oh yea…and they also have health care..for everyone. Just saying.
We took a band field trip yesterday…there’s some photos here of a small red Chinese temple(?) that the prostitutes pray at ..the table next door sells Viagra…you’ll notice..it’s not a tourist attraction…pretty conservative here. We all had a quick snack at Petsmores graham crackers ,marshmallows,choclate and the pet of your choice..the hamster was delicious…then everyone lit incense and burned fake money and prayed at the oldest Chinese temple in Malaysia…except Mr Justin..and a awkward moment.of his ” getting the story on film” from people half way into the ” shake the can of sticks and read your future dice roll” .interruptions by farangs( white people) bringing three generations of curses down upon ones family…” sorry dude…um…you can have my Panic laminate” didn’t seem to be the soothingest of balms…
In the spirit of the Mr theme…Mr Carison and Mr Becca have arrived..we all think it’s amazing that Mr Carison passed the finger photo thingy at airport security..fortunately..they have never heard of Mississippi here. Not sure how well she would weather the whole caning process. Speaking of which …. We just got the call ..Mr Sherm is again in some trouble with the authorities. There is a shade of blue he fancies.( photos forthcoming)..a mid eighties Miami vice ish electric Destin Florida water blue… Who knew?,.that the wearing of this blue announces ones highly illegal sexual preferences and is considered the Malay version of..Suicide by Cop. Though the screaming in the background while we listened to Mr Sherms begging for a lawyer was disconcerting, we trust Mr Joe will work it out…um…….wait…..actually…I am not sure how the whole Baltimore Jew lawyer thing is going to fly in sharia courts……20 swacks from the cane? ..really?……ow…that’s going to fucking hurt. Mr Frank says not to worry..it’s good for the film..Mr Justin agrees and is working on a “photo pass”
Let it be said….Mr Sherms willingness to take one for the team,knows no limits.
Ok…one more show here in KL..tonight at Laundry Bar…not to be confused with the old Alphabet City heroin depot, Laundry Mat…..I don’t think . Then back to Phnom Penh tomorrow. With Mr Sherm in tow. Inshallah.
If anyone wants to school me in punctuation spell check via email. Please do so..Mr Brad is perturbed Also..there’s a lot of photos here …it’s a big city.
Thanks for tuning in…goodnight noises everywhere. Asalam o Alaikum. Peace be upon you. Mr Jerry

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The Watermelon Stacker

So…..I look at Mr Sherm,and ask in all seriousness. ” Mr Sherm…just how big of a dick do you think I am?”
Mr Sherm considers thoughtfully for a minute as is his wont and replies ,
” well Mr Jerry ,by what increments are we measuring here? What’s the yardstick?”
I think about it…feet? Vespas? yards? salt? gallons? No…..
“watermelons” I reply .
“Hmmmm” says Mr Sherm “watermelons?…are they sliced? stacked? In the field?”
“stacked Mr Sherm”
” well..I dunno Mr Jerry…I’m not much of a watermelon stacker”
” uh Mr Sherm….your not much of a ” walk up the stairs-er” either…but I think you can figure it out”
Mr Sherm doesn’t hesitate a fucking nano second,
” every watermelon
ever stacked since 1961 Mr Jerry..all of them ”
” wow” says Mr Justin… ” you really are a dick, Mr Jerry”

And so it goes…..good times in the Jewel of the Orient

We are all currently on a Air Asia flight from HCMC to Kuala Lumpur. Mr’s Frank,Sal ,Justin ,Sherm and me….the fucking “watermelon man”.
We raced to the airport at some ungodly hour for Mr Justin to watch the super bowl. Mr Clark ran into us in his new Haute Mao threads..all the fellas were excited for some sports or beer or something..alas. No super bowl…. “Vietnamese Idol” however was a lot of fun for the lads. The choreographed medley of Justin Beiber songs performed by the Peoples Marxist Revolutionary Lady Boy Brigade was particularly touching. Safe to say we all ” get it ” now. Ultimately, the entire airport was pretty pleased to hear the Giants crushed New England…one true thing, everywhere you go In this world..everyone ..in this case Viets,Chinese, Hindus,Muslims,ex-pats..everyone…collectively ..HATES BOSTON….everyone.knows; Bostonians have stacked a lot of watermelons ..if you know what I mean…and I think you do. Dicksaroo Ruback
The whole Saigon thing has been pretty incredible. Saturday was the first gig at Cafe Thi. We had been in the night before and watched a band of ..I dunno ..everyone from around the world in one band band…they had a dreadlock Filipino guy playing a Cajon…which means box in Spanish and is indeed..a box…that sounds like a drum…Wally lays some claim to knowing his way around one…anyway…the guys name is Janel and he beats the shit out of the thing and manages to make French guys groove. So we invited him to play with us…lucky for us he said yes…he’s a monster. Chop Chop con Cajon….really cool and for the totally hammered Chinese hippies and old Vietnamese rock stars and drunk ” save the whatever” chicks who frequent Thi…the Ras-mojo-polka- mariachi – angry bald guy version of Ho Chi Minh was a slam dunk..join us wont you? Hey daddy-daddy,hey daddy daddy,hey daddy daddy Ho …NMF !!!!! Followed by a feast at Les Bu’u featuring the house special..( I couldn’t make this shit up). Steamed pig brains in clam and ginger..and frog baked in its own house…sadly we passed on the grilled ox penis…I do not think it was same dish that was so popular at Rawhide in Chelsea in 1983 …maybe? There was a sign advertising the “Supper Bol Sunday” so as Mr Frank pointed out…the post revolutionary year of the dragon ninja sirens ,who frequent Les Bu’u are..indeed…. Supper Models.
Our last day was beautiful..between Mr Justin giving the 5 year olds photography lessons.at the main market (to peels of laughter from the surrounding parents) to some amazing street food. ( another Mr Chicken Fingers coup ..actually eating the fingers of the chicken). Then we filmed an impromptu show in the Gleefully Spilling the Blood of the Americans theme park. Another rousing version of Ho Chi Minh..not sure those park kids were “getting it” , cell phones were being furiously dialed and we are lucky the secret police didn’t show up…
Then a last minute booking at Yoko. Saigons “it” live bar…again with Janel. Really great..Mr Frank has been nailing it…an Arab a Mexican and a Filipino walk into a bar…..and the Vietnamese cover band wipes the floor with them ,with a cover of Celine Dion ” I really need your…..something or other” The post show thankfully did not include another Russian bar ,Russians being like Bostonians and er…pit bulls. Instead. Mr Janel took us out to one of those street cafes..in tow were his” coolest kids in Saigon” friends..and we had a really really amazing meal ,including the fried tofu with thousand year old egg and a lovely time was had by all. Sometimes your sitting there and you realize.this is the stuff you,ll remember 10 years later..a nice moment…..so we bid adue to Mr Clark and Duane until PP…and we will be trying to figure out how to finagle a work visa for Mr Janel. Saigon is everything you’ve heard said. understandable why everybody with an army has tried to own it. Even more understandable why the Vietnamese have fought so hard and successfully to keep it. Plans are already underway to bring the Jmos here . ..Ho Chi Minh..with a little dubstep could be the “fooking massive ( say with a thick Cockney accent ).
We just landed in KL…another big huge hot city…Mr Frank has booked
us at the Red Roof Inn…next to TGIF…he says there’s an awesome mojito happy hour…and 80′s karaoke at the Wang Chung Cougar Palace……chilling stuff ,that.
Thanks for tuning in…goodnight noises everywhere. Mr Jerry
PS…re michael ,brad and teri. Totally understood ..but…I do not know how to spell check punctuation…I’d ask Mr Sherm.but he’s busy, stacking god damn watermelons and giggling hysterically ,smug bastard.

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