Archive for August, 2010

Learning curves

Posted in Drunk, Food, Smokin D with tags on 26/08/2010 by gayparis

Remember that letter of complaint I wrote to the cafe? (in the Smokin’ D does food section)

There was an article in the paper this week. Their rent has been increased. They can no longer afford to pay themselves a wage. Their business has declined so much since they opened in January that they are now facing the very real possibility of closing.

I think there is a lesson to be learned here, everybody:

Smokin’ D knows best. Always.

They obviously didn’t take any of my advice on board. Maybe I should take them up on my offer of helping them lock their doors?


Call Him Mr Outlaw

Posted in Gay Paris, sydney band, WH with tags , , , on 25/08/2010 by gayparis

Alright, y’all.
Now, a lot of folk been wondering how we stay in such fabulous shape when we obviously live a life of rock n’ soul excess… well, here is the secret.
Now, I’m not talking about working on our fundamentals (I’d rather excercise my funkadelics); you gotta work on your ups, your crossover and most importantly, your trash talk.
That said, some folk can just bring it.
Call him Mr. Outlaw.

BRISBANE PT II – Furious Vengeance

Posted in Blues, Gay Paris, god, live music, Southern Horror, Swamp Rock, Sydney, sydney band, Tour, WH with tags , , , on 24/08/2010 by gayparis

Last we were up there, God tried to stop us with rain, now we return with unholy fire to help our horrible friends, The Smokestack Orchestra launch their album. When is ours coming you ask? Fuck, I have it right here and it is great. Much better than The Smokestack Orchestra’s (I feel safe in saying this never having heard their record, even though I do not doubt their skills or artistry, you know that when you are laying all your money on the table, bet big and drink everyone elses drinks).
Bring money.
Buy us gifts.

The Only Good Abbott Is RZA

Posted in Berserker Of God, Blues, devil, Drunk, Gay Paris, god, Politics, Southern Horror, Sydney, sydney band, WH with tags , , on 17/08/2010 by gayparis


Ah, the Catholic Church – is that wine or blood on your vestments? Really, they both wash out, right? Not like the taste that a certain Mr. Abbott is leaving in my mouth, hell, bring ME the wine, Australia, let’s commiserate that for some reason, a lot of people over here think that this dude is a viable leader for the nation – the only Abbott I have any time for is one Robert Diggs aka Bobby Digital, The Abbott, The RZA!
When Tony gets with a tight ass clique and goes all out, dropping pearls of wisdom over Kung-fu samples, maybe I’ll give him the time of day – but not my vote.
I know that we have a freedom of religion and speech here, but don’t we have a little something like Separation Between Church & State? Nah, not good enough for T.A. (shit, T& A should equal tits and ass, not terribly antiquated). Compulsory Christian Studies for school students in State schools? Righteous? Well, as a matter of my own interest, this would have been dope, but the compulsory aspect makes it seem like dude is trying to create some kind of holy empire – what next, Australia re-does the Crusades? Well, at least beards and shaved heads will be back in, as well as rapine and murder in the name of YWHW.
Really, dude calls his homeboy, one Jesuit priest and to paraphrase, is all; “word life, son, I gotta go for this PM thing, drop some knowledge to Hashem for me,”
And such is the hubris of his one time mentor (and apparently greatest male influence in TA’s life) that it is inferred that the great man(?) of Heaven can’t say no to his mortal servants? Makes sense, right?
If we’re going to be expected to believe these ghost stories, please, assholes, make them consistent.
If dude is going to run so much game about the benefits of his chosen faith ( free will, it makes you morally culpable, remember that shit), then why is Money letting on that the ‘poor will always be with us’ and that there is little that the government can do for the homeless – yes, we have the poor and homeless, it’s a tough situation, let’s give it up. Christian mercy. What makes it worse is that dude is quoting Jesus. Now, I don’t have to believe in water walking and wine based thaumaturgy (though I would dearly love to witness these miracles), to believe in the more merciful qualities put forward in the new testament. Abbott is using the merciful words of J the C to defend a less than humane view on the housing crisis in Australia. This isn’t the dark ages, we have enough money to go to war, we have enough money to give government sponsorship to sporting events that equate to international masturbation and jingoism promoting competition – so why not help these cats out?
With the multiple causes of homelessness being a huge factor in the moving from not having a house to being part of a ‘homeless culture,’ dudes like Abbott throw out shit like “it’s a choice…” Luckily we have a choice too – Don’t vote for this dude.
Let’s abandon medical research that can save lives, let’s all marry and have 2 or 3 kids (sorry, gay people, you’re not included and in a few years, we’ll probably see you in shock therapy or some other medieval shit) – oh and don’t worry, when you’re married and it turns out your spouse is a violent drunk or habitual practitioner of adultery, you’ll only have to wait five years to apply for a divorce. Solid.
Really, I don’t love Gillard, but in a two party preferred system, I know that I’d prefer a soulless atheist with no fashion sense than a bible thumping asshole.

Stay cool
Much Love


Posted in Uncategorized on 09/08/2010 by gayparis

Take 4 beers and a bottle of sparkling wine, mix well.

Like A Virgin

Posted in Drunk, fantasy, live music, Nerd, Southern Horror, Swamp Rock, Sydney, sydney band, WH with tags on 07/08/2010 by gayparis


How dat ass was won


Gimme dat

Shit n’ tarnation, sure has been a long time since I was up on this thang, what with one thing and another. To start with, I’ve been taking to most technology with a +3 Hammer of late, if you know what I mean, that’s a feather in your funky little bonnet, baby.
When the smoke and whiskey breath finally cleared after the Beards tour, we were left feeling a little superior, after all, Slim and me obviously had the best beards out (well, that is a perfect use of past tense as right now, we have children’s beards, shame us and spit at our feet if you see us on the street, though I’ve taken to a veil and wearing a long golden tail to disguise myself, but now you know, so bring bright lances and give me a dragon’s funeral).
Strange thing – for some reason, Karnivool asked us to play three nights with ’em at The Metro in Sydney and you know us, any excuse to get liquored up and half nude in public, off we went.
We rounded up quite the team for this little outing into having the kind of stage to match our obvious more rock than thou skills (shit, they even let us smoke in the stairwell and switched some beers from VB to Becks for me, though with the amount of whiskey I was packin, what the fuck was the need?).
Big ups to Georgeous George, the soundguy and Dr. Jono Barwick, who cured my worst hangover ever with a Little Creatures Ale. You sweet SOB. I hope his daughters are as arousing as he is.
The thing about playing to Karnivool’s crowd that made it so easy to get half nekkid and ‘rapey’ was that they had no idea what was going on – either did we. I made a connection with some sweet ladies and was feeling damn good about it until I realised that they were definitely the kind of women who could get me put in gaol for a long time. Shit, I’d love the quiet time so I could write the great avant-fantasy novel of our generation, but child molestation just ain’t my bag.
After three nights of riding a burning steam train through what was otherwise a lesson in soundscapes and excessive lighting – minus a guitar, a pair of trousers, a hat and a shit load of dignity, we were laid to rest…
Of course we still had one last show booked before going on a writing hiatus (even though the first album isn’t even out yet, assholes) and that was to be with our hottest lover brothers, The Snowdroppers – but what do you know? The bastards hit the road with the north coast’s favourite ‘rockers’, Grinspoon. Good choice, fuckwits.
So next thing I know, we’re jumping off the bill too (hey, note to bookers – putting us on with crusty/homophobic/sexist/racist acts will get you a roylal fuckover by us, gleaming scepters in and out the metaphysical ass until it’s a weird cross between OZ season 2 and a Richard Miller novel. Read Squed. Do it.)
Same venue (Spectrum) the next night. Oh, are we pricks? Yeah. You should have seen my replacement trousers.
I feel bad for anyone who wasn’t there. I feel worse for the people that were; me resplendent and erotic, unreachable from my one foot tall stage, crotch apparently stuffed with a cucumber – it wasn’t but who am I to argue with the people?
The only real problem with the gig was that Slim, Blacktooth and D forgot themselves – this is The WH Show and I am unhappy to say that they all recieved a sound thrashing the next day for stepping out of line. Slim said that he was sorry, but I could tell that he was lying to me, his moustache dripping with beer foam and legs performing a weird shuffle that I later recognized as the same hypnotic stomp he had been using the night before; bastard! Using his powers on his own husband/leader!
In album news, we have a venue and line ups booked in Sydney so far, the line-ups will include most of the good bands in Australia. I mean GOOD not popular. Oh and if you’re thinking of sleeping with me at a show, bring money, I’m broke.