Tuesday Nights at "The Lady"

(Pictured above: The Painted Lady, Hamtramck)

     If you are up on your local history, you'll know that The Painted Lady (formerly Lily's 21) is no stranger to dangerously unique events. Every Tuesday night at "The Lady", there is yet another great week night event simply titled "Pierogi Night". Bartender, Erica Pietrzyk, hand makes several dozen pierogis, some more typical recipes and others take on a little bit of Erica's flare. On the night I went in to check it out, it was the same week as Thanksgiving. The menu does the convincing itself: The Holiday Special, a crowd favorite, contained organic free range turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, green beans, and gravy. A veggie pierogi is usually included on these nights. This time around it was The Crunchy Cousin (Organic Mashed Potatoes made with Tofu Sour Cream, Organic Green Beans and Organic Stuffing.) Because I showed up late, I missed the boat on a pierogi I'm dying to try that goes by the name The Becky (Jalapeño Poppers, Cream Cheese, Cheddar Cheese, and Organic Egg Whites.) Sides include sour cream, tofu sour cream, cranberry sour cream, a basic gravy, and a spicy honey mustard. 

     I had a chance to speak with Erica about Tuesday nights and she had this to say "It was the best accident that ever happened to me. All the Pieorgi are hand made with love. It's labor intensive but worth the effort." When asked if she had a favorite pierogi, she replied "My favorite are the loaded baked potato, aka Spudnik." Without giving out too many details, Erica also spoke of the process "The process is getting high quality meats and vegetables to make nutritionally balanced Polish American food."When asked about the future of Pieorgi night, Erica was right to the point "I hope to grow the company into a co-op to help provide stable employment for many people in Detroit. As of now, there is no end to Pieorgi at the Lady." 

ps. Domestic beers are $2 till 10pm and well drinks are $3 all night long! 

Murder In Clairemont

The city of Clairemont, known for it's nightlife and it's minor league baseball team (The Clairemont Panthers) is in the midst of a summer no 'up and coming' city wants to experience. In the past ten days, human hands wrapped in newspaper have been discovered within close proximity of city hall. This, of course, has not only the police worried but city officials have started to ask for police escort and permits to carry weapons. The citizens of Clairemont have rarely seen violence of this nature, especially when the worst thing that happens there is the occasional bar fight or grand theft (aka kids joy riding.) This city was not prepared to deal with true evil like this and it was clear in their news broadcasts instructing people to go straight home, after work, and lock the doors. Some had taken to buy the good, old fashioned home protection by buying weapons, namely guns. The frenzy really broke loose the night a teenager was shot breaking into someone's garage. After an investigation, it turned out the teen, 19 years old, was trying to steal beer. 

48 hours had passed since the last set of hands were found. Still tense as if it was still happening, the city went on about it's business. One of the cities leading criminal defense lawyers, Albert Grey a graduate of Clairemont college, was in his office when the phone rang. It was the Sgt. Williams. "Mr. Grey. We need you to come downtown, immediately" said Williams in a cold, stern voice that was familiar to Grey. "What's going on Sergeant Williams?" Albert asked with a hint of concern. There was a pause and heavy sigh before the sergeant replied "It would be a good idea if you got down here as quickly as you can, Grey. This is serious!" Without even thinking, he took off like a shot out of his office, ran past his secretary, and out to his car that was parked next to the building he worked in. There in no time flat, Albert bursted into the sergeant's office. "Alright, Sergeant Williams. I would like to know why you called me down here" said Grey as he sat down. The office was filled with other officers from different departments from across the city. "Son, your aunt, our city treasurer, has disappeared. No one has heard from her in two days. You are her only family in the city so we needed to speak with you, in person. Excuse me but given what has happened, we don't have a lot of time." Albert immediately started sobbing. His aunt, Polly Grey, raised him after his parents were shot and killed in a robbery while on vacation in New York. Polly was all he had left in this part of the country. After a few moments, Albert gathered himself. "Alright, gentlemen. My aunt Polly is a creature of habit. She wakes up at the same time, goes to breakfast at the same time, goes to work at the same time, taking the same route. She leaves work at the same time and stops by the same lounge for a scotch and soda with lime, gets home at the same time, and goes to bed at the same time. All we need to do is figure out what the last thing she did was and go from there. Of course, you can count on me to respect your authority but understand that this is my only family here and I would expect you would do the same as I will" said Albert. There was a quick round of applause before the commissioner and mayor walked in. Everyone stood at attention. "Albert, we just want you to know that we are all behind you and want to make sure we find your aunt." There was some discussion before it was decided that crime scene technicians and several officers take Albert to his aunt's place but something didn't sit right with Albert. "Guys, rather than send the whole army in there, why not send me and two other people whom I can make up to look like my cousins and go in there. I mean, what if they are watching the place or something like that?" The sergeant and commissioner agreed that would be the best course of action. Grey and two crime scene techs left for his aunt's house.

After a 15 minute ride across town, Grey arrived with the two crime scene technicians dressed as his cousins. Plain clothes officers canvased the area. Albert went up to the 15th floor with the techs and went into his aunt's apartment. Immediately, it was clear that there was a struggle: things strewn about, knocked over end tables and a lap. The fridge was still open and milk was all over the floor. After looking everything on the counter, Albert came to the conclusion that Polly was in the midst of baking a cake for Albert's 34th birthday coming up. While the technicians searched the kitchen for foreign finger prints, Albert went upstairs to his aunt's office. The filing cabinets had been thrown to the floor with their contents all over the place. After looking through the papers on the floor, Albert came to the conclusion that whom ever did this was looking for something very specific but had no luck finding. This also suggested, to Albert, that the guilty party or parties hadn't really accounted for his aunt having a safe at home. Albert was sifting through papers on the desk when the phone rang. It was 3am, this was not a random call. Albert picked up and said hello. The phone was silent before a deep smoker's voice came crackling over the line. "Grey. You know what this is and what we want. I'll make this very simple: come to pier 13 at midnight, tomorrow night, with what we want or your aunt will end up an after thought in the obituaries." The line went dead. Albert confused and uninterested in having the police fumble this one up, he quietly went into Polly's bedroom and got the document containing vital financial information about the city out of the safe, using a key that his aunt always kept hidden behind the portrait of J.P. Morgan behind her desk. After slipping away from the technicians, Albert went back to his place and prepared to head to the docks by grabbing his .45 and loading it. Albert is no tough guy but no stranger to violence, given his history in dealing with angry mobsters when their bosses get sent to jail. Grey decided he wanted to park away from pier 13 and walk up so he pulled up at pier 24 and walked down, just to check out the area a little bit. It was dead. The only sound in the area was the sound of small waves smacking the anchor posts that hold the dock up. It was cold but not chilly that night, thus explaining Albert's breathing pattern: he wasn't breathing weird cause he was cold. He's scared.  Upon approaching pier 31, Albert only saw one boat at the very end of the pier, some seventy feet away from the dock. Albert crept down the wooden pier and up to the boat. He knocked on the door and the voice from the phone said "We've been expecting you, Grey. The door is unlocked." Grey open the door and walked in. The main room of this boat was occupied with four men in black masks and black robes. One stepped forward and said, in a famous that sound familiar from the telephone call, "Mr. Grey. Welcome. We are the Dark Circle. I believe you have something for us". Albert, nervous but angry, replied "Hang on. Before I hand anything over. I want answers and I want them now. First, I need to know my aunt is alive and safe. Second, what the hell is 'The Dark Circle' and what does it have to do with the city's money?" The menacing figure who spoke first motioned to the adjacent pier. Albert looked out the window to see his aunt, upside down and tied up under the pier. The tide would be coming in before long. She was writhing with pain from the rope she was tied up in but she was alive. "Alright, you have yet to answer my other question. Once you do that, we have a deal. Ok?" said Albert as he stepped away from the window. The dark figures huddled for a minute before the first one that spoke said "We serve all that is and will be darkness. Our dark lord, Satan, is our saviour and we do what he asks of us. Your city's money is dirty with our finger prints for reasons that they are and we want what is owed." Confused, Albert reached in his pocket and pulled out the document in question. As he started to hand over the document, a wave came through that shook up the boat a little bit. As Grey stumbled, he reached out and pulled the mask off the figure that spoke. It was the mayor of Clairemont. Enraged, the mayor and the hooded figures lunged after Albert who jumped through a window on the boat and swam over to the pier where is aunt was hanging. He could hear the men running down the pier as he cut the ropes to free her hands and legs then cut her down. They dove into the water and swam all the way down. After waiting for about two minutes they went back up slowly to find the men and the boat had gone. Albert and Polly climbed up the pier and sat on the edge to catch their breath. Polly asked Albert what had happened after she was kidnapped because the mayor and his evil henchmen had drugged her, heavily, for two days. She said, at some point, "they made me take acid and watch them mutilate a body in a ceremony." As they stood up and started to walk down the pier, Albert noticed a piece of paper with what looked like blood on it. He opened it. "Grey, this isn't over.". That's all it said and it was enough for Polly and Albert to running down the main pier, back to Albert's car. 

Since that night, the mayor was found in what appears to be a gruesome suicide where he removed his own intestine. They found a lot of acid and cocaine in his system at the time of death. There was a note in his pocket. It was addressed to Grey. It said "Think of this as not the end but merely the beginning. We'll see you in hell, Albert."

Bai Mai Thai, Detroit: My "Happy Place"

Speaking in generalities, most good thai restaurants are in strip malls, in an off corner somewhere. A hidden gem, if you will. Bai Mai Thai, tucked in the corner of Layfayette Towers Center, is an oasis of real thai food. Yet another stereotype but fact about most good thai restaurants: they tend to not look like much on the outside but once you enter, the game is totally changed. Now, it doesn't matter what kind of restaurant it is but when the first thing you see when you walk in is a beautiful, long bar with almost every single kind of liquor and brand you can think of smacks you in the face…you're doing it right. A wall that almost runs the length of the bar with picture window separates the hustle and bustle of the bar and people picking up to go orders from the serenity that is the dinning room. Wide, wooden benches in the booths which are a step up from the floor giving the tables a little bit of height and posters of Thailand related things like a boating community trading right in the middle of a river, a candle festival, the king of Thailand Bhumibol Adulyadej, his wife Sirikit, and their only son Maha Vajiralongkorn make up the pretty thai dinning room aesthetic to a T. The lighting is reasonably dim with overhead lights and a small candle at the table and the conversation level, any time I've been in there, is amazingly pleasant. The occasional laugh or clink of a metal fork hitting a plate with a hushed radio station being played over the PA (I just wish they wouldn't play American music over the PA. That would totally complete the experience for me but from a business stand point, not everyone would enjoy it.)

Standard apps like chicken satay, spicy short ribs, tofu tod, curry puffs, and steamed mussels are always a treat. However, the soup in this place is, not to be cliche, TO FUCKING DIE FOR. Oh man. The Tom Yum and the Tom Kha served at Bai Mai Thai are probably the best in the city. I believe they also have a basic 'thai soup' as well which is also amazing. They have two classic 'yum' salads grilled beef and thai which is the same thing as the grilled beef dish but with seafood. They also have a chicken satay salad which you should try at least once, in life. (By the way, a 'yum' is a dish consisting of some sort of meat tossed with fish sauce, dried or fresh chilies, lime juice, and herbs typically served on a bed of fresh salad greens.) Their 'fried rice' section is set with some of the greats like khao pad (chicken with chinese broccoli, tomato, onion, egg, sweet soy sauce, and carrot), a basic seafood fried rice, and pineapple fried rice. There are plenty more on the actual menu but I don't want to ruin some surprises which I know you will enjoy as much as I have. The 'noodles section' is my own personal heaven and, as to not ruin the surprises in store for you and your taste buds, I will only speak of three dishes (two of which are the same, just one is served with wider noodles). Pad Thai and Pad See-Eew (regular size noodles or the wide noodles). While they are both extreme standards in most thai restaurants, this place is killing it! Pad Thai and Pad See-Ew (comes with regular noodles or thick noodles, the thicker noodles will quite obviously fill you up faster.) Their entrees include such golden hits as Pad Ped, Gaeng Dang (chicken curry), Veggie curry (steamed veggies in a curry sauce), Gaeng Paa (a dish from northern Thailand that was traditionally prepared with wild boar but is now typically made with pork or chicken. Also includes pea eggplant, lemongrass, and green pepper corns to name a few), Pad Kra Time Prik Thai (a garlic and pepper chicken dish with mushroom soy sauce and oyster sauce, water chestnuts, and green onion), and Pla Sarm Rod (fried catfish with tomatoes, mushrooms, onions, bell peppers, fresh basil, thai chili with a tamarind sauce). My dessert is usually a martini but for "normal people", their thai custard is also worth a shot.

(Pad See-ew)

As I stated before, I only touched on just some of the things on their menu. To truly get the experience of Bai Mai Thai, you have to go there and loose yourself in their menu and the atmosphere which is easy to fall in love with. Find this place and simply enjoy the moment.

Two Days With Gutrot

     I had the pleasure of spending the weekend with Michigan's nastiest, insanely technical dealers of homegrown death-metal, Gutrot. These guys have been friends of mine since about 2006-7, so I was more than prepared for the amount of vulgarity and debauchery that took place, on the road, between Zach Gibson's house and Louisville, KY.  At least I thought so anyways. Bus call was 5:30 am, thought we got started a little late. By 6 am, we were on the road and almost a cannon of a joint deep when the sleepiness wore off for a minute and then the jokes and stories came out. A lot our time, in the van, was spent smoking and listening to music off of Zach's mp3 player. I spent most of the ride on the same bench as Gutrot's Brian Bourque (vocalist), the band's conceptualist and lyricist. Most of the conversation centered around multiple types of sexual deviation/oddities. These guys were full up on the crudest, most inappropriate jokes I've ever heard or will hear. As we got closer to our destination, Diamond Pub and Billiards, I couldn't tell you if I groaned or laughed more. 

     We arrived at Diamond Pub, an oddly shaped Sports Bar with a music venue attached in the back of the bar. The show in question, the Louisville Death Metal Fest, was a stacked deck of different kinds of bands. Some of the more local and independent bands that played the show had a newer brand of Death Metal to offer (i.e. Cattle Decapitation, Necrophagist, etc), some of the older bands clearly were there to teach us all a lesson. Bands like  Artificial Brain and Malignancy brought the old school flavor. I was reminded of old Cryptopsy, Entombed,  Autopsy, Gorguts, Cannibal Corpse, and some Morbid Angel. There is no reason to lie, I'm very new but very astute in learning about genres that sound interesting, so this was a great learning experience in what I don't know. After some hanging around and drinks, we retreated to a friend's house to catch some sleep. In typical fashion, everyone found a surface of some sort and spread out for the night. The following morning, we found a place to grab some morning snacks. It was this great little spot in town called Nord's Bakery. Now, I don't like doughnuts but they had one with bacon so naturally…my hands were tied. We got back in the fan and slowly started making out our way to Cleveland which was only 2.5 hours away. I recall smoking at least two cannons (joints) with the band then passing out for a little bit (can't get sleep on couches like I used to). Cleveland always seems a little different each time I go there, though I think it's cause each time I go, I see a different side to the city.

     I guess there is a tradition in the band that if they play a show or to see a show in the area of Cleveland, they stop at Happy Dog (Euclid Tavern) for some dogs before the show. $9 gets you a quality dog with toppings that range from chunky peanut butter, to a fried egg, to bourbon pork and beans, to coleslaw, to a pear chutney. I could easily spend all night in this place getting drinks and eating dogs. The show was at a venue called The Foundry a sort of dive-like bar in Lakewood, Ohio (a suburb of Cleveland). The bar which has been under current management for just shy of a year was a bit smaller and seemed almost familiar in that it had elements of other bars I have come to know during my years as a booking agent/promoter. Unlike your standard dive bar, their beer selection was pretty solid. Can't go wrong with any establishment that sells 24oz bottles of anything by Stone Brewing from San Diego. Two locals played, then Malignancy, and then finally Gutrot. As I said before, Death Metal is very new to me. Seeing Malignancy two nights in a row just proved they are one of the best bands in the genre. Such a tight, unforgiving live band. It's rare when you can say the band sounds better live, that their studio albums do them no justice as a band. This is the case with Malignancy and now I'm a fan. In typical show fashion, by the time the last band went on (Gutrot) a lot of people left. This didn't seem to bother the band and it for damn sure didn't bother me. Gutrot is a band that makes what they do look insanely easy per their comfort in the material they play live. Where most people struggle, these guys absolutely do not. The time to load out and hit the road came and just as quick as Gutrot left their mark, we were gone again on the dark road that lead us home. More doobies were smoked after we got on the highway and just about everyone but Chris, who drove home, passed out. It was some time after 3am when we got back. Kirbey, who did most of the driving, Russ, Brian, and I rolled out of the back and said our goodbyes. Chris's gf was out for most of the time that we spent peeling stuff out of the back of the van. Everyone was still very stoned and partially asleep when we finally parted ways. 

     I've known the guys in this band for some years and it was a true honor riding with them. Finding out that they are indeed the most disgusting metal band I've ever dealt with was exactly a surprise as I would come to find out the day after I got back and read some of the lyrics.  Holy fuck. Here's a little taste…

This human waste, absorbs into my face

Aroused and not amazed, better than getting laid

(And that's not the worst lyrics I've seen either)

The Adventures of William Brick, PI: Trouble at Brick Manor

The Adventures of William Brick, PI: Trouble at Brick Manor

It was 4:30am and the city was just about to get up for work. Half of the city, blue collar workers, is about to get up and start the day. Meanwhile, on the city's eastside, two shots ring out at an estate owned by the Brick family, the city's richest family. Police arrive on scene to find a silver plated, pearl handled .45 with one spent bullet and a dead maid, shot at close range in the chest. Frank Brick, the city's richest philanthropist, and Lady Brick were out of the country visiting Lady Brick's family in Wales. Their son, William Brick, a local PI, got the phone call that something had happened at his parent's house and that he should go check it out. The voice on the phone, that clearly belonged to a officer on scene, also said that there were footprints in the flower bed near the kitchen window. "Will, all I can tell you is you need to have a look at these footprints before they disappear". William Brick, a former police officer, raced to the scene. Upon arrival, the chief and captain ordered officers to prevent Brick from entering the property. "Come on, you roughnecks, it's my parent's house. Let me in now!" shouted an angered Brick. Chief Woods approached Brick who was being restrained by two uniform police officers. Before saying anything, the chief sized up Brick and smiled. "Listen here, Brick. You're not on the force anymore and, quite frankly, none of us want you here. You quit and started telling lies about people in the department, including me. No. Not this time, son. Now if you don't leave now, I'll have these officers arrest you, lock you up with some of the gangsters you put away, and throw away the key. Do you understand?". Brick shook the cops lose and walked away. "Don't worry Chief, I won't muss up the scene anymore than your crooked detectives will. I'll be seeing you around!" Brick shouted as he walked down the driveway. Luckily for Will, there was about 3 acres of woods behind his parent's estate. Brick circled around to the back end of the wooded area and quietly crept through the woods. As he approached the clearing of his parent's backyard, he could hear Chief Woods and Cpt. Albridge barking at the officers and detectives, "If Brick gets in this house or gets any evidence, every single one of you will be in deep shit. Understood?" 

Brick watched the detectives check out the foot prints but didn't take a cast or dust the window sill for prints. By their actions, it was clear to William that they were told to not look too hard. As soon as they went in the house, Brick army crawled right up to the back of the house, stood up and started inching his way under two windows, that's when he finally got to the footprints. He pulled out an engraved lighter his father gave him and could clearly see the name that appeared to be the kind of boot the assailant was wearing. With a military style imprint, it didn't surprise Brick much that the name, Marshal, was an army style boot sold only at the local army surplus store, American Joe's. Will also looked for any dirty finger prints on the window sill and glass: nothing. Foot steps from around the side of the house startled Brick and, with no place to go, he ducked under the wood deck he had built with his father the summer before. It was the Chief and Cpt. Albridge. They both lit up a smoke and talked. "Look, Albridge. We need to keep this one away from Brick. He'll ruin us and what we're all trying to do here. Make sure that if Brick is seen snooping around, that he is dealt with..." To Will, this only meant one thing: if he was caught, he's had it. His assumption, based on other corrupt cases, this one is going straight through the glass ceiling. A branch snapped under his foot and both the Captain and Chief turned and looked around. Albridge asked Woods "Where did that come from?" Woods turned to the Albridge and said "How in the fuck am I suppose to know when I'm over here giving you orders? Put a tail on Brick and order a stake out of his home and office. I want to know his every movement, whether it's to buy booze or to do some broad. Got it? Now get going!" The two cops left the backyard. Brick, nervous and shocked, sprinted through the woods and back around to his car. Knowing they were looking for him and probably knew what his car looked like, he stopped by his friend Freddie's house. Freddie, a known mechanic and former gang member, was Brick's 'johnny-on-the-spot' in situations like this. The two met while Brick was an officer, investigating a car theft ring. Brick called on his old friend for a favor. "Freddie, I need a clean car. I can't be seen in the one I have now" said Brick. Freddie chuckled and told him to drop the car off behind The Silver Dollar, a seedy nightclub, with the keys in the ignition and that a fresh car would be waiting for him behind The Golden Dragon, a chinese restaurant that was a front for the Triads. As William pulled up in front of his apartment building, he could see two detectives staked out in front. There was no way he would get in his place without being seen so he drove on to a hotel he used as a safe spot, The Taj Mahal. Will, mildly apprehensive, sat by the window, watching and waiting. In the morning, he looked out into the parking lot of the hotel for any mysterious cars. Nothing. Before leaving his little hotel room, he called American Joe's and asked if they sold Marshal boots. "Yes, sir, we do" said the voice on the phone. "Can you tell me if you have had any police officers in to buy any boots?" asked Brick. The voice on the phone turned out to be Joe, the owner, a vet of quite a few wars, knew almost all of the officers by name. "Yeah, Chief Woods was just in here a few days ago. Normally, he'll have a cup of coffee with me and talk about what's going on but he looked like he was in a big hurry for what I figured to be a major bust of some sort. I only say that cause the boots he purchased are the same boots that SWAT use." Will knew he was on to something pretty serious. He knew, from personal experience, Chiefs never do busts, just the press conferences after for the photo ops. He thanked Joe for his time and got off the phone. After assuring himself no one was waiting for him, he crept outside and was immediately hit on the back of the head with a blackjack. 

Will woke up in a trunk and could hear two voices. "We'll drop him off in the woods somewhere outside of the city with a note saying 'Don't come back' with a bullet taped to the note and hopefully he'll be smart. The Chief said we can shoot him if he tries to escape and just report it as a robbery gone wrong" said one voice. The other, after Brick gained his senses, gathered not only was it a lady but the voice sounded extremely familiar. "I wonder if he knows what's going on. I wonder if he knows who's involved" said the woman. A loud smack came from the car then crying. "Listen here, He might hear you and, on a personal note, I wouldn't get too concerned with what's going on. Just do what you are told. That's it." The woman, obviously hurt, sobbed quietly for another 25 minutes. Brick, also a former mechanic, was able to pick the lock of the trunk from the inside with a pocket knife. He held the trunk closed and waited for his chance. The male accomplice said, in an extremely annoyed tone, "It's time to stop for gas. If you need to use the bathroom, do it now cause we won't be stopping again for another hour." This was Will chance to make a break for it. After both car doors opened and closed, he climbed out and circled around to the back of the gas station where the bathrooms were located. He could hear whistling in the Men's bathroom, so he gently opened and closed the door. Upon entering the bathroom,  he checked the stalls and saw feet. As to not alarm the man too much, he entered the stall next to him and used the bathroom. He heard a knock on the stall door and a voice said "Hey, buddy. Is there any toilet paper over there? Would you mind handing me some?" Will handed the guy some toilet paper and as soon as the guy reached for it, he grabbed his wrist and yanked the guy to the floor and pulled his upper torso into the stall with him. After a few kidney punches and elbows to the head, the man started shouting,"Wha…what the fuck? What the fuck is going on here?" Will flipped the man over to find out it was an officer he served with, Officer Stinson. "So, Stinson. You're dirty too, eh? Thought you might make a few bucks by making your pal disappear, did you? Well, guess what….you fucked with the wrong guy. Before I kick every single one of those yellow teeth down your throat. I want some answers" said Brick as he stood over the shocked officer. "Look, Brick. I was following orders. You know how it is?" exclaimed Stinson. Brick laughed in his face and stood him up with a knife directly under his adam's apple. "Stinson, remind me, after you discussed how you were gonna get rid of me, did you hit that woman you are with?" asked Brick in a menacing voice. Stinson smiled and said "Always the softy, eh Brick?" then spit blood in his face. "Fine" said Brick, just before he slammed the officer's head off the porcelain sink behind them. Brick broke some ribs before telling Stinson, "If you live through this night, know that the next time I see you…I'm going to make YOU disappear. Tell your superiors who did this and I'll send some of those rough customers you used to love to assault so often over to your house to see your wife. Stay the fuck away from me, Stinson. Final warning". Brick broke Stinson's left hand and walked out. An older man standing near the bathroom and asked Brick on his way out "You alright?" Brick, fixing his tie, looked back at the bathroom and said "Yeah, just a piece of shit that wouldn't flush." They both chuckled as Brick walked towards the car. The mysterious woman was in the passenger seat. Brick crept up behind her said and quickly stuck his knife up against her throat. "If you make a sound, that sound will be your last now scoot over so you can drive. Do it slowly but do it right now." The woman got behind the wheel as Brick noticed that the tank was full. "Alright. We're heading back to the city. Do anything crazy and I will hurt you. Try any superhero business to try and catch me off guard and I will hurt you. Do we have a deal?" said Brick. The woman, shocked, said "They are looking for you. I wouldn't go back into the city right now." Brick thought for a moment and said "Ok, we're gonna go to a cabin. I'll give you directions. Deviate from the directions I give you and…" said Brick before the woman in the front seat said "You'll hurt me". They rode in silence before Brick finally said something to the woman behind the wheel. "Alright, lady. What gives? How are you involved?" He looked in the rear view mirror to realize it was an ex of his from when he was on the force. "Maggie? Pull over, now" shouted Brick. She pulled onto the shoulder of the interstate. It was late and there was no traffic out. Brick told Maggie to get out of the car so they could talk, face to face. Brick, not taking any chances, kept his knife open and ready to go. They got out and sat on the trunk of the car. "Ok, start talking" said Brick as he lit up a smoke. Maggie was a tall, beautiful brunette jazz singer he met some years ago, after he joined the force. She dumped him for a con man and disappeared for a couple of years. This was the first time he had seen her since the day he moved out. "Will, I know I owe you an explanation. I also owe you an apology for the way things turned out between us. I am sorry." She started to cry and turned her back to Will. "Maggie, I just can't believe your mixed up in some serious business like what's going on right now. Who exactly is involved in this thing?" asked Brick. "Someone else. Someone you know well, Will. These people don't want to see your face again. They kind of told me and Tony, the guy I'm assuming you either beat up or killed at the gas station, that if we "wanted to, we could" kill you" said Maggie as she reached in her purse. Brick, unaware, turned his back to her to look up at the stars. Maggie cocked a .38 that was in her purse and pointed it at the back of Brick's head. Being an avid .38 carrier, Brick knew that sound but didn't move. "Maggie, I'm happy to see you though. It's been a long time. What have you been doing?" asked Brick as flipped his blade around so it was facing his female companion. Maggie said nothing. Brick threw himself against her and dug the knife into her arm and twisted as hard as he could. She fell to the ground, clutching her arm that was bleeding profusely. This wouldn't look good if a cop drove by, so Brick knocked her unconscious with the butt of the gun and dragged her in the tall grass near the car and continued on to the cabin they were headed to. The cabin, made of solid oak, was handmade by some friend's of the Brick's, lumber tycoons the Tyson's. Brick walked in and poured himself a still gin and tonic. There were photo albums all over the place, so Brick picked up one and looked through it. There were quite a few photos of Brick's parents and a few different galas. However, one caught his eye: it was a policeman's ball and in the picture was his father, the chief, and the captain. In another photo album, Brick found vacation photos. After a few pages he found yet another "red flag". This time it was a fishing trip, per the fish being held up. His Dad, the captain, and the chief. There had to be some sort of connection but it wasn't made clear yet. Will searched the rest of the cabin for other clues, linking his dad and the police. Nothing. The sun was starting to come up, so Brick laid down on the couch and napped for a few hours. 

It was just after 10am when Brick was awakened by sunlight that had come through a skylight. Going back to the city wasn't even an option. There was a diner and bar a few miles away, so Brick went and got some breakfast and the paper. The front page story, that morning, was of course the murder of his parent's maid, Rita Santiago. 'No clues, signs of forced entry', the usual stuff. "Excuse me, are you a Brick?" asked the waitress. "Yes, ma'am. What's your name?" asked Will. The waitress, an older lady, had been working in this diner since Will was on the force. "My name is Susan. I serve your father whenever he's up here, at the cabin. Him and his friends, actually." Brick looked up at the waitress and described the captain and chief. "Yeah, Tom and Mike. Nice guys" said the waitress. Brick was on to something. Things are starting to point towards his father's involvement with the police. Brick ordered a coffee, black, and a western omelet. He ate and went back to the cabin. The only way he's going to be able to make a connection between his father and the police is searching their house, which is almost impossible. Brick laid on the couch and read his father's copy of Art of War when the phone rang. No one knew he was here. Curious still, Brick answered the phone. "Will, it's your father. Thank God, you're safe. I tried your apartment and there was no answer, so I thought maybe you came up to the cabin" said Dr. Brick. "You must have heard what happened. I don't know anything. The police won't let me in the house" said Brick with a hint of hesitation in his voice. He knew he couldn't trust his father. "Listen, your mother and I will be arriving in a few hours. Come pick us up and have dinner at the house. Ok?" asked his father. "Alright, Dad. I'm excited to see you and Mom. How was the trip?" replied Brick. His father talked about quail hunting with a Duke and playing backgammon with a prince from India. Before they got off the phone, Will said to his father "Dad, do you know anything about what happened?" There was a pause then Dr. Brick sighed and said "Rita was a sweet lady. This came as a great shock to your mother and I. That's why we came home: to take care of funeral arrangements for her family. See you at the airport at 5pm, ok son?" Around 4pm, Brick got on the road and immediately noticed a tail. The car following Brick was occupied twice, as far as he could tell anyways. They did nothing but follow him at a distance. Brick pulled up at the airport and got his parent's in the car. As soon as the tail noticed his parent's were in the car, they disappeared. The Brick's pulled up at the house, where two detectives were still staked out. They were about to come after him when one of the detectives noticed his parent's were in the car. "Take it easy, Steve. He's got his parent's with them. Stand down" said Detective Miller to his partner. They watched the family go inside. "Captain, come in, captain. This is Detective Miller." "Go ahead, Miller" said the Captain. "Captain, Brick just walked into his parent's house with his parents, over" replied Miller. "Ok, shit. I guess keep an eye on the house. When he leaves, if he is alone, take him into custody and bring him in on loitering charges. Got that, Miller? Captain, out."

The Bricks all gathered in the study for drinks and to discuss what had been going on since Dr. and Lady Brick had left the country. "Mom, Dad. I need to know everything you know about Rita. Everything." Lady Brick looked at the good doctor and waited. "Son, Rita is someone we rescued from this human trafficking business that's been going on in the city. I met her at a policeman's ball and offered her a job working for us" said Dr. Brick as his sipped his bourbon, neat. Will cleared his throat and said, in the best stern voice he could muster, "Actually, Dad. I wanted to ask you about that. I notice you are friends with the Chief and Captain of the police department." Dr. Brick explained to his son that he had become friends with them through charity work and fundraising. "Dad, I tried coming over here the night Rita was killed and they wouldn't let me in" said Will. "Son, you are trying to expose them. You had to know they weren't going to be excited to see you" said the Doctor. Shocked, Will stood up, and said "Dad, they tried to have someone kill me. Twice." After a brief back and forth, Will and his father ended the conversation by retreating to separate rooms. Once his parents went to sleep, Will went downstairs to his Dad's home office and snooped around. After searching through medical documents, he decided he was almost ready to give up when he noticed the painting behind his father's desk was a little crooked. Will approached the painting and could tell in a bulge on the canvas that something was behind it. Climbing up on his Dad's chair, he lifted the painting to find a safe that was cracked out. Will opened it to find ledgers and receipt books. One ledger said Mexico and the other said South America. His Dad had made visits to other countries and kept track of everything. These ledgers were different. William opened the one that said Mexico and was immediately shocked to see female names and next to them were dollar amounts. Rita's name was in this book next to the number $120. He realized, at that moment, that his father was more than likely financing the human trafficking ring. Then he looked through the South America ledger. Cocaine. Lots of it. Will got a little weak in the knees with disgust, fear, and anger. The lights in the office went on suddenly. It was his father. "So, you figured me out. The issue now is what do we do about this situation. You see, if you find out how high this goes, you'll expose us all and none of us can afford to deal with the shame of being connected to drugs and the buying and selling of human lives" said Dr. Brick as he walked towards his son. "Dad, if you take one more step…I'll plug you. No questions asked. Tell me, are police involved?" asked Brick. "Everyone is, son. Everyone" replied his father. They glared at each other before his father lunged at him. Brick pulled his gun out and shot his father once in the chest. Brick called 911. His father was dead before the ambulance could get there. His mother, in shock, told her son that she too had been threatened if she went to authorities with this information. "He actually put that gun to my head once and told me to take everything to my grave" said his mother as they walked outside. The police were about to arrest Will when he pulled out the ledgers and held them up in front of the Chief and Captain. "You crooked, poor excuses for cops. You're going down!" shouted Brick. The Chief smiled and said "If you take us down, you'll be ruining your father's good name." Will got right in his face and said "Fuck you and fuck him too." Will was questioned about the death of his father then was turned loose when it was determined that he defended himself. 

The following morning., Will was on the front steps of City Hall giving a press conference. In this press conference, will outlined how the police had his parent's maid killed cause she too had found the ledgers and was sick of the abuse and was threatening to go to the FBI. "Who actually shot the maid, Brick?" asked one reporter. "As the Chief who's shoe print was discovered where the murderer found his point of entry. Chief, you wear an 11 and 1/2 size Marshall boot that you have made for you at American Joe's, is that right?" said Brick. The Chief blew up and lunged at Brick but state police swooped in and arrested the Chief. "Hey guys, you want to grab the Captain per his involvement in the cover up and human trafficking business" said Brick as the Captain turned and tried to run. The next morning a warrant for the arrest of Dr. Brick was issued. He has since disappeared.

Tales From A Security Guard

    I couldn't tell you what the first show was that I worked but I knew I didn't like it. This was during an era in Detroit's music history where it seemed like 2/3rds of the rock bands were actually "indie". This meant a lot of local shows that were meant for a dive bar ended up at The Magic Stick. Same 5-6 bands you could see anywhere else for half the price and cheaper drinks. Things were so 'lax there, we pretty much did whatever we wanted so these circumstances with the shows didn't bother us as much. Some shows stood out because they were just fun and other stood out cause crazy shit (i.e. fights or Mayhem) was going on. I could tell you the circumstances in which I got a job at The Majestic Complex: my buddy, Jason Lockwood (RIP), was heading out on a summer long tour with the Koffin Kats and needed someone to cover his shit till he got back. Of course, the assumed idea on our parts was that if I knew how to wear a work shirt (tshirt that said security on it) and stand in one place for 15-25 minutes at a time that I would still have a job there even upon Jason's return. Since Jason was somewhat of a fixture, people were a little confused to see my face. I knew some of the bartenders for a hand full of years but by no means was I super close, yet, with any of these people. Like most bars, it's really just the high school cafeteria set-up: cool kids here, stoners/losers (all three of us) over here, sluts (male and female) over there. It seemed as though straight up nerds were never a part of what was going on. Principals, Zania-Mania (we'll get back to that soon).

    I think the first major event I did security for was The Majestic Complex's attempt at a fest called Fucking Awesome Fest. Great bands, poor planning which is kinda weird cause Black Christmas (Black Iris Booking) is set-up the same way with multiple stages and different kinds of rock bands playing. Fucking Terrible Fest, or so we called it, never really took off. It was pretty exciting to be working there so I didn't really care what they scheduled me for, so long as they told me I was scheduled for shit. They were known for scheduling stuff they changing it and not telling anyone. Fucking Awesome Fest was three days and I remember enjoying myself and meeting a few girls in the process. Not every event there was always fun. For example, a lot of the younger hardcore bands brought a lot of young, dumb kids around. In "tough guy hardcore", everyone thinks or feels as though they are king kong and the rest of us are simply natives to be ripped in half and/or tossed around and eventually destroyed. Often times, it was the youngest kids who wanted to fight and put up a fight while being kicked out. My friend, Jason, taught me what a "meat sled" was at one of these shows: basically you would kick the person's legs out from under them, straddle them, and ride them down the stairs. As barbaric and dangerous as that was, it was effective. Other times, we had to get creative like grabbing people by the throat and dragging them down the stairs (28 stairs to be exact.) 

    Working at "The Stick" was definitely my introduction to violence and self defense but nothing could have prepared me for what was to be known as "Hot Boyz events". This changed everything I knew about gay, black men. Excuse me, thug as fuck gay, black men. In the african-american community, it is very much a taboo to be gay. The term "down low" is often used in describing homosexual activity. There was nothing "down low" about this shit…unless of course you are discussing the multiple double blow jobs we would have to break up in the bathroom. These events could only be held in The Majestic Theatre (the location of Houdini's final performance, also held about 2000 people). About half the crowd was what you might call "flaming" and the other half looked like extras from Boyz In The Hood. I shit you not. The first time around, the production company hosting said events asked the venue to do drink specials, one of which was a pitcher…a fucking pitcher or long island iced tea. Between that and whatever these dudes drank before they got there, we were stepping around puke like they were land mines. The events also had a VIP section on stage, which was fucking ridiculous, but these people wanted to be seen so they paid extra to make sure that happened. The few times I worked these events, I would gladly accept bribes that were sometimes in the excess of $50-100 per person. The VIP section was no different. The first night I worked this event, I was standing on stage, checking out the two straight girls that came when I heard what sounded like a gallon of water hit the stage. No, it was this Deebo looking' motherfucker just spraying the stage down with vomit. Liquor soaked vomit. I say that because I could smell it from 30 feet away. This guy stands up, wipes his mouth off, and continues to drink his pitcher of long island iced tea. This shit was unreal. There were a few times where there would be a show next door in "The Stick" and bands would ask what's going on next door. After telling them, even with uber-macho hardcore and metal bands, you would always get one band guy asking "So can I check it out". One time, I totally caught a band person, near the back of the stage, making out with someone they had just met. It wasn't weird after a while but still so surprising, especially with bands that used the word "fag" in their lyrics. 

    Then there we "Funk Nights". This got interesting and sad all at once. When this "after hours event" became something the general dumbfuck could attend, it stopped being about really solid DJs spinning strictly 7" funk/rare-soul records. It became what we all know as a "shit show". "Funk Night" used to be held at the CAID and was moved, after some legal issues -- someone kept calling the police on them wherever they booked the event, to The Majestic Theatre. A busy night was once 300 people. That turned into 2k+ once people started catching on. The captain of this funky ship, Frank Raines, and the soon to be house band, Will Session, were always the most enjoyable part of the evening. I would be lying if I said the girls and confiscating shit didn't have its perks. Dumb kids, newbies to partying, would try to sneak 5ths of liquor in. One kid even tried stuffing a liter down his pants. Drugs were typical: everything from weed to heroin and a few designer drugs to shake things up. If we confiscated liquor, we always stashed it in the same place so everyone could make a drink. One particular night, I'm pretty sure we had more liquor backstage then one of the bars in the Majestic theatre did. Because not too many of the security guards did anything besides smoke weed, confiscating acid, coke, meth, Molly, ecstasy, and speed always brought a smile to some of our faces. We would have security meetings before and after these events. The meeting after was usually to discuss who got blown and to divvy up the shit we confiscated. That shit was like the New York stock exchange of vices. Deals were made, goods exchanged. It was a very cosmopolitan way to trade the things we could get in trouble for. Everything was thrown on a table and opening bids were made. Even now, I can still remember people arguing over the cocaine (I wasn't one of them, I swear.) FNGs (fucking new guys) would come and go, one time I remember one kid had never worked or even been to a rave and his first night doing security was a dub step event in the theatre. I was there with my then-girlfriend, selling medibles and having drinks. I remember someone walking past with eyes as wide as silver dollars. I was told their were dosed with some mushrooms and it "wasn't sitting well" with him. There were those nights when we would catch kids selling drugs in the bathroom and, being the smartasses that we were, we would confiscate the drugs then sell them back to the kid for double the price then bust all of the people that person sold to then instructed the kid that he owed us money before he left. I believe they call that extortion. For whatever reason, we wouldn't be allowed to cash our checks the following day so combat this issue, especially at sold out shows, we would sneak people in through the back for $10+ more than the cover price or sometimes a flat rate of $20. The night someone was caught doing this, they made $400+, just to give you some frame of reference. A lot of these nights made or broke some one's night. One particular techno event was especially interesting. Besides, busting girls giving dudes rough hand jobs in the crowd and breaking up a fight in the lobby before you entered the event, I found a blackberry. Nothing weird about that, right? Well to find the owner, I turned the phone on and checked the text messages. The very first one I saw seemed like it was from a friend. 'Hey, a friend of mine said they found you on the stairs crying and they said it looked like you pissed yourself. text me back, Chelsea.' There we those kids who would come to these events and having taken drugs at home in the backseats of their friend's cars, these youngin's felt they were ready to be in a large crowd with much louder music blaring. Wrong. The first time I found some kid wandering around the parking lot, beyond fucked up on drugs, calling out his parent's name wouldn't be the last time I saw people lose all sense of reality and revert back to an almost infant like state of being. In one way, I laughed but it another it tore me up inside. Watching people, kids of all things, slowly destroying their minds simply because they wanted to have fun was hard. I remember some nights I would get so upset that if the slightest issue came up, everyone would get kicked out. I had earned that reputation of having an absolute "zero tolerance policy", especially with guys. I eventually moved onto Saint Andrews, where you kinda had to care a little more about how you reacted towards unruly customers. Because I was such a "fan-boy" of some bands that played at the Majestic Complex, even if I wasn't doing the load-in, I was there early to maybe catch a glimpse of a band member or as was the case with Matt Pike from Sleep/High On Fire and Daniel Lanois who, amongst other things, co-wrote songs on U2's legendary Joshua Tree, I would have the chance to sit next to people at one of the two bars I was usually at (Majestic Cafe where most bands ate food or The Garden Bowl where cool people did shots in the middle of the day.) One of those times where it worked out in my favor, Triptykon and 1349 were playing in The Majestic Theatre. They needed loaders but didn't ask any. Naturally I jumped at the chance to do the load-in with their tour manager and certain band members including Tom Warrior who was one of the founding members of the super fucking amazing/legendary Celtic Frost. After the load-in and many thanks, Tom came up to me and shook my hand. It always made the shows better when you had that human experience with bands people. I think one of the greatest catastrophes was the Odd Future show in the Majestic Theatre. While we had people get shot, beat up, robbed, raped, or injured in some unfortunate way, what went down was truly sad. As I understand it, some people had an issue with Odd Future (rumor was most of their shows were ending in fights, brawls, small riots etc). Thankfully enough we live in a day and age where everyone is now a field reporter with video capabilities on their phones. One of the emcees said something that got a rise out of the crowd, so much so that someone threw a bottle on stage. After that, it was pretty much a melee. After several text messages and whatnot, I was informed that a certain manager decided to open doors from the Majestic Cafe into The Majestic Theatre.

    The Theatre wasn't severing glass per the warning that there might be several incidences. The Cafe was serving glass so it was easy to bring the "glass grenades" to the party. All of this is a video on Youtube. Think I'm lying, look it up. Look out for my buddy Ryan chasing a kid off stage and falling into the crowd. Crazy shit.

    There were wholesome moments of being a security guard. The look of joy when you give someone a setlist of their favorite band, arranging meetings, getting friends on stage, etc. Those are the moments that make me glad that I have been a security guard for roughly 10 years.

Break Anchor, Reggie's in Chicago

      

(from l to r: cris, jason, dan, kyle)

      I've been hanging out and riding around with bands since about 1997. It's been an interesting and, often times, strange journey. Break Anchor is a real treat to hang out with and sell merch for. Jason, Cris, Kyle, and Dan are some of the most down to earth dudes out there. Jason and I have known about each other since the Jack Kevorkian and The Suicide Machines days back in the early 90s, so it was kind of nice to finally hang out with a dude I've known for a while. One thing I've learned about traveling with bands is it's never what you imagine. It's not as glamours and wild as some people might think. For somebody like me, it gives me time to think about things outside of work and relationships at home. There is something about the passing landscape that is both thought provoking and mysterious, plain and monotonous. The spots of pine and grassroots farms are terribly interesting, even when driving through midwest states like Ohio and Indiana. This particular trip to Chicago was much like a lot of other ones: meet up between 1-3pm to hit the road and be there by 7pm at the latest. I was running a little late to meet up with Kyle Green, Jason Navarro, and Cris Golan at Golan's house (per my need to get a pint of whiskey and down two Mcdoubles from Mickey D's). We hit the road around 2:15pm and drove for about two and a half hours before we made our first stop (somewhere on the west side of Michigan). Like any decent road-trip of anything length, a good soundtrack makes the driving easier. A couple of newer pop-punk bands and some hip-hop. I was totally unaware of Jason Navarro's love for really solid, older hip-hop. They seating in the van went as such: Our captain for the whole trip, Jason, and Cris sat in front. Kyle Green and I sat in back and discussed favorite strains and concentrates (we're both big fans of Chemdawg). At each stop, Kyle and I got out to take massive, lung crushing hits of wax. We got into Chicago around 6:30-6:45pm. Between using my pen and swigs of shitty whiskey, I was able to rest up for a bit. 

      Break Anchor, is a throw back to that kind of pop-punk one might have found on the early Warped Tour comps and Beer Nuts…but with a bit more of a noticeable edge to their sound. They played with Cut Teeth (from IL), The Queers, and 88 Fingers Louie. 88 Fingers Louie had already loaded on stage and sound checked by the time we got equipment in Reggie's. This bar immediately reminded me of a cross between CBGBs, New Dodge Lounge (per the balconies), and The Shelter: sort of faux dingy rock club where extremely well known acts play from time to time. Everything about this place screamed "home" from the drink specials to the graffiti littered bathrooms. We loaded BA's equipment on stage then I got set up in the smallest merch world I've ever seen. After juggling some shirts and records around, everybody settled in then got a quick dinner. I wanted to sit among normal Chicagoans so I went upstairs to the rooftop bar and had a couple of beers and a shot. Reggie's rooftop or whatever had a typical sports bar vibe with flat screens and sports themed posters. Oddly enough, The Detroit Red Wings were playing that night so I silently cheered for our boys in Red and White for about 25-30 minutes then it was time to head back downstairs for doors. Before they opened doors, I got a spicy beef sub from the pizza place next door, few different kinds of hot peppers and spiced beef. Not bad. 

      This night provided me with a very interesting first: this was the first time I worked a show where there was an actual line waiting to get in. Cut Teeth, a pop-punk/post-hardcore three piece, played first. These guys were super nice and pretty hilarious. I was sandwiched between them and 88 Fingers Louie, which I was glad about cause I kinda don't like Joe Queer and his studio musicians. Most of my time behind the merch table was spent greeting concert goers and chatting with 88 Fingers Louie's driver, David who is involved in hip hop as an MC and DJ. Break Anchor took the stage and offered up one of their best sets I've seen since they started playing as a band. Jason, known for his biting on stage banter, did not fail Chicago in providing them with comments like "What? It's not like I said our hockey team was better…oh wait…" The Queers, who had their bass cab stolen the night before, were rehearsed. I'm not saying they are boring but they don't fuck up and play a lot of the same songs. That being said, I'm always grateful to hear "Granola-head" and "Punk Rock Girls", amongst other crowd favorites. The real treat of the night was 88 Fingers Louie. I remember seeing them way back when, always the opening or side stage band though. They were on quite a few comps back when all I listened to was punk or ska. I really can't say I knew their stuff to recall songs but I think the fact that they were so fucking good was what made recalling songs in the set so hard. I was able to purchase two of their cassettes after the show, Back On The Streets and 88 Fingers Up Your Ass (still in the plastic - less than 400 of either in existence.)

      Like so many shows, when the show is over…it's time to go. Bands and friends climbed into vans and cars and off we went. I passed out about 25 minutes after we left Reggie's and woke up about 10 minutes away from Cris's house where I met up with the boys. It was just like old times. Thanks to the gentlemen of Break Anchor and Reggie's for being nice and the lady who was working in the pizza shop next door for the great suggestion.

The Not So Little Tramp

     

      It was about a year ago, I spent about a month in Sacramento. While I was out there, I discovered a train yard and made plans to visit it as soon as humanly possible. The pack for such a journey is relatively simple: two beers, two joints, a snack (burrito), and a can of paint (I mean if you're going to the yard, what's the point ingoing without paint on your person?) Early one morning, I grabbed the aforementioned items and started my journey. It was an overcast, slightly chilly day which were perfect conditions per random pedestrians or assholes trying to rob anyone who came by. The walk took me, if memory serves me correctly, about an hour and a half there. In that time, it has drizzled a little bit and half of that burrito had been smashed into my face. To get to this yard, I had to go down some steps on the side of this bridge that was right next to Sacramento State that had a nice but almost cookie cutter style campus. Like most yards, there was a fence. In the distance I saw paint on trains, that meant there was a hole or some sort of access point and after walking along the fence for about 15 minutes in mud that was about 6-7 inches deep (and cold), I found the hole. Stepping into the yard is like any time you get into something: joy and, for me, a touch of fear. While walking around the yard, I took pictures of graffiti and the trains. That's when something pretty interesting happened. I climbed into one of the cars, to take a picture, and a older guy came out of the darkness. I nearly pissed myself. Actually, I probably did and just couldn't notice per the dampness from rain. "Hi, my name is Joe" said the elderly man in clothes that were just hanging onto his frail body. "My name is Shawn. I'm sorry. I just wanted to take a picture" I said with a bit of shake from shock of this guy coming out of nowhere. "It's nice to meet you, Shawn. What are you taking a picture of?" he said as he stuck out his hand. His hand was cold and frail like if I squeezed any harder and this guy would've had some broken digits. I showed him and then he told me about some other places I should visit while I'm in town. I offered him the rest of my food and a beer which, like any human being, he graciously accepted. I asked if I could join him and smoke. We sat down on the edge of the car where the door was open. "You're not from here, are you?" he said as I helped him down. "No, sir. I'm from Detroit." As Joe opened his beer, he said "I think I've been there once. That's in Michigan, right?" Watching his first sip of beer was like two people who haven't seen each other in a few years. I could almost hear "Reunited and it feels so good" playing somewhere off in the distance. "Yes, sir" I replied. "Sir? No one has called me that in quite sometime, Shawn. Thank you." Joe looked like he had been through more than any one of us could imagine. If I had to guess his actual age, he would've been about 60 something but his appearance made him look about 80. I pulled out my joint and sparked up. "Damn, is that weed?" he asked. After a bit of a chuckle, I said "Yeah, man. You wanna smoke?" Again, non-homeless people would accept a hit just as quickly a burrito. Coincidence? Not at all.

      Joe and I sat and talked. "You got a lady back in Detroit?" he asked with his mouth full of burrito. "Ah, I like someone but she doesn't like me" I said as I passed him the joint. Joe replied with some truly fucking sage advice "Well, if you go back, get rid of her and find someone that feels the same feelings that you have". We talked a bit more about his life, which he couldn't remember anything before he was 40, per his "god awful drug problem" (heroin). He says he had a family once and a small house somewhere in northern California. When his drug problem got to be too much, his family picked up and left. "I don't really blame them for leaving" he said with a distant look on his face. The conversation continued on for another hour or two. It started raining, so I decided if I started walking and stayed under the trees I wouldn't be too soaked (I was wrong). "Alright, Joe. I gotta hit the road. It was an honor to meet you. Maybe I will bump into you again" I said as I jumped down out of the car. "Shawn, even if our paths don't cross again, just remember this conversation and me. Ok?" I promised him I wouldn't and I never, ever will. To Sir Hobo Joe, cheers!

120 minutes with Little Brother

We asked Detroit native and punk-rock DJ, Little Brother, to put together a 120 minute playlist. This is what we got back….

One Chord Wonders-The Adverts

Action Time Vision-Alternative TV

Taking Too Long-Wipers

The Getback-Noman

White Tar-The Bronx

It's Not Over-Face To Face

 We Are The One-The Avengers

First Time-E-BOYS

She's So Modern-The Boomtown Rats

Boredom-The Buzzcocks

I Hate This Job-Detroit 442

Warsaw-Joy Division

You Drive Me Ape (You Big Gorilla)-The Dickies

Two Tub Man-The Dictators

Mr. Big-The Dils

Life And Limb-Fugazi

Do Anything You Wanna Do-Eddie & The Hot Rods

Your Generation -Generation X

Lexicon Devil-The Germs

Chinese Rocks-The Heartbreakers

Fuse-Inquisition

In The City-The Jam

Don't Dictate-Penetration

Suspect Device-Stiff Little Fingers

"untitled"-The Dewtons

Forty Three-Slo Poke

Heathen Son In The Eyes Of Blood-Hellmouth

The Boys No Good-Lifetime

Devilock-The Misfits

Cashed In-Pulley

In My Eyes-Rage Against the Machine

Love Your Friends-Best Friends!

The Soft Sell-A Wilhelm Scream

Hug Life-Best Friends!

Like good hardcore? Check out Ante Up from Michigan!

Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/Anteup456

Jams can be found here:
http://www.stereokiller.com/anteup456

These guys have been at it for a minute now. If you are tired of soft hardcore that lacks integrity and meaning, this is your band. Like a 18 lb sledgehammer to the back of the head, these guys serve as a reminder of what hardcore show look, feel, and sound like. Please show support to any hardworking bands or artists. If it's one thing I've learned by going to Ante Up's shows is we take care of one another. Cheers and enjoy!

Strains we would like to see….

• Cheesecake - UK Cheese x Strawberry Cough x Strawberry Diesel
• Grand Daddy Diesel - GDP x NY Power Diesel
• Royal Trinity - Royal Kush x Respect OG x Holy Grail
• Sour Patch Kids - Sour OG x Strawberry Cough
• Master Purps - Master Kush x GDP
• Vacation OG - Cannatonic x Northern Lights x OG 18
• Chemdawg Purps - Chemdawg x GDP 
• Sweet Treat - Vanilla Kush x Tangerine Dream OG x Ice Cream
• God OG - God's OG x Holy Grail x CBD God
• Truly Sour OG - True OG x Sour OG
• Juicy Bruce - Bruce Banner #3 x Strawberry Cough x Blueberry Headband x Grape God x Juicy Fruit
• Cookies - Platinum Girl Scout Cookies x Blue Cookies x Animal Cookies x Sin Mint Cookies
• The Headband - SFV Headband x Platinum Headband x Sour Headband x Blueberry Headband
• The father and the son OG - Holy Grail x God's OG x Jesus OG Kush
• The Wreck - Timewreck x Trainwreck
• Quantum Leap - Quantum Kush x Respect OG
• Very Berry - Strawberry Cough x Strawberry Diesel x Blackberry x Blueberry Haze x Blueberry Headband
• Saucy Jack - Jack Frost x Jack Herer x Jack The Ripper x Jacks Cleaner
• Hell-A - LA Woman x LA Confidential x LA Jack

Sour Diesel (sativa)

I'll start by letting you all in on something about this strain: this was the strain I used to medicate when coming up with the original idea for this blog. It's a sativa ("head-high"). This strain plays on your creativity and ability to relax the mind. "Sour D" as it's known in some circles is the meds you want to sneak into a concert or party, per the euphoric/uplifting feeling. At $15/ per gram or $240/ per oz, this strain is not only a joy to smoke but it's also not a pain to buy in bulk. If you look, you can even find some "Sour D" that leans more towards the indica side of the fence. I must warn you that if you go the indica route, clear you schedule for the rest of the evening!

The lineage, at least the one that is widely accepted as the truth, is no fucking joke: original sour diesel (chemdawg, super skunk, and northern lights) crossed with an unknown phenotype of Skunk (rumored to be Skunk, Northern Lights, and Hawaiian). As you might have guessed, this strain is mysterious for the most part. Like GDP, Strawberry Cough, and SFV Kush…there are so many versions of it out there but if you find the true one, it's like finding the actual Holy Grail. With the lineage it has, Sour Diesel has some kind of smell and after taste while smoking. Think very pungent, skunk, gas. To some of you, that's not so pleasant. To others, that smell is like "Fuck. Take my money now so I can go home and bathe in this shit." (I'm of the latter opinion).

Like most good meds, Sour Diesel is used to treat a wide range of depression issues as well as PTSD and Bipolar disorders. As a person who faces setbacks from depression more often than they care to admit, I suggest this strain if you're looking for something to pick you up out of that lonely rut you're in. On top of typical uses for sativas, "Sour D" is great for those with pain issues. A few strain reviews back, I talked about being a stage hand. Back when I was doing it more often, this was the strain I used to combat the wear and tear of a 15 hour day, humping equipment for miles. Barbacks, I know you are out there…this strain is all you!

As always, I would like to thank everyone for their love and support. 2015 is gonna be a big year for all of us! Stay up, stay tuned for more exciting reviews and articles!!!

Taxing pot adds $40 million to Colorado's economy, crime rate down. Way down.

Hey, friends!

This article came across our desk and we just felt it was necessary to share with you. Taxing pot actually helps. Something else this article points out is homicide/crime in general is down. Way down.

Pot tax adds $40 million to Colorado's economy!