The hall of douchebags…

I’ve been way too damned amused by this site lately. It’s been a rough week. I’m getting ready to move to a new place, work’s been tough and Fracas has been busy with shows. So scouring the hall of douchebags has provided me with much needed guffaws in the last few days.

What really cracked me up was running across poor old Scott Spiezio’s band in the hall. Dude, stick to baseball.

Then there’s stuff like this. Ouch.

The thing about the hall of douchebags is that I get totally engrossed in it. I’m amazed at the massive unoriginality that people are capable of. Soooo many pictures of bands posing in front of brick walls, or railroad tracks, or in lavatories. It truly boggles the mind. Some of these folks have obviously also never been introduced to the concept of the mirror. I found myself looking at some of the pics and saying “does your mother know you go out looking like that?”

The whole thing really speaks to the dire state of popular music today. Everything is just a retread. On some level that’s ok. Originality for it’s own sake is pretty unremarkable. If you do what you do well then it doesn’t really matter if it’s your own idea or a refinement / extension of something someone else came up with. But there really are some things you just ought to stay the fuck away from. Posing in front of brick walls for promo pics, for example. Chuck Berry riffs sort of need to be retired. Oh, and mohawks totally need to be banned from punk rock shows. Kids, you look like clowns. I’m serious.

Last night Fracas played at the worst club in the Northern California. The only thing good about the place is that they do all-ages shows. Playing to kids is almost always better than playing to grown-ups. Adults refuse to enjoy themselves most of the time, for fear that they’ll look foolish. Kids have no such hangups, as clearly demonstrated by the vast numbers of dimwits sporting mohawks at last night’s show. Maybe it’s just me. I thought that look was ridiculous when I was 15. 22 years later it’s beyond stupid. Please stop.

Ok, I’m going to own up to something. I own a studded belt. I even wear it sometimes. Why? I have no idea. Probably seemed cool when I bought it. It isn’t. Not even remotely. Doesn’t make me look tougher. Doesn’t improve my bass or guitar playing. Does a barely adequate job of holding up my trousers. Why do I own such a thing? These too must be banned from the scene. Oh, and while we’re at it, let’s ban those belts with little bondage hoops on them. In fact, let’s ban all bondage gear of any kind. If you must own this stuff, use it for what it was designed for – restraining yourself or the person you’re about to do the nasty with in an attempt to make your sex life slightly more interesting. Next time I see someone in bondage gear at a show I may have to chain them to a post or something. That’ll learn ’em.

Oh, and fat guys in stove-pipe pants. These just have to go. Exactly what are you guys hoping to achieve by making your legs taper sharply at the ankles? Want to make sure we’re keenly aware of the fact that your thighs are the size of buffalos?

All lip, eyebrow, labrum, tongue, cheek piercings… take ’em out now. One nostril pierced is cute on some folks, and pierce your ears any which way you like, but those other piercings, well, frankly, yuck! And if you do the ring through the septum deal you’re just a choad. Who deliberately makes themselves look like the family hog?

Liberty spikes must also be brought to an end. If a mohawk makes you look like a clown, spikes make you look like the he-man, super clown. Likewise any sort of deliberately smudged makeup. If your makeup gets smudged while you’re making out with that super hot guy or gal in the alley, well, hey, that’s understandable. If you smudge it before you leave the house to make you look like you were making out with that super hot guy or gal in the alley you’re a choad. If you do it to look like a junkie you’re a weiner.

Now get off’n my lawn you kids, or I’ll fill yer behinds with rock salt!

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