And I’m losing the hearing in my right ear. Not a helluva lot of fun. I can’t lie in bed and watch the tube without craning my head into uncomfortable positions. I have to keep my speakers and headphones unbalanced.

I blame it all on a Jesus Lizard show many moons ago. I’ve never been so blown away and so deafened by a band. Rock and roll, man - it’s a bitch.

So - turn up your speakers really loud. Make one slightly louder in my honor.

For your listening pleasure:

In a sadly related story, apparently David Yow was hospitalized with a collapsed lung recently. Get better, man. The world needs more puking, cursing, stripping half-pint inebriants.

On top of being part of one of the best and most under-rated bands in the history of music (not just punk) Gibby Haynes has put some pen and paint to paper and canvas - and to good effect.

It might not be everyone’s taste, but I really like the colors and psychedelic arrangements - sort of like watching the Butthole Surfers on paper…

Click it and dig it…

They’re without Glen Danzig, and honestly, without him, it’s just not The Misfits I grew up with. Jerry Only is appropriately named, it turns out - as he’s the only original Misfit still touring with the group.

I remember the first time I heard “Legacy of Brutality,” way the hell back in the eighties. Oddly, I was introduced to the Misfits about the same time they called it quits and migrated into Samhain, which I could go on and on about, too.

But - and here’s the point of my post - they were horror and gore and zombies before all that was cool. It was a shock, and it was weird and people stared when you walked around all ghoulish and leather and black. Now, it’s almost to the point of being passè.

Now, Marilyn Manson and Nine Inch Nails and Type O Negative have made the horror/glam/goth thing easy. You can buy the shirts in the mall - Hot Topic is essentially a store dedicated to selling the clothes that took years to break in back in the day. We had to make our own shirts, buy our boots at surplus stores and wear our pants out by skating or falling down drunk.

Now you can buy them. Kind of weird.

I’m not saying that it’s any better or worse - it’s just different. The old weird has become the new eccentric. The old eccentric is now just normal. Society has changed - punk has not. I pray that it never does. The ethos still exists, and you see it a lot on the internet. People doing their own thing and not giving a damn about who sees it and who cares.

It’s still an art, it’s still a thought, it’s still a way of life. Punk is alive and well - it’s just a little weirder and a little harder to find.

But, The Misfits are touring. The Misfits are in Asheville. 20 years too late, maybe…

These cats are from Sweden, and they’ve made a couple of the most listenable and aggressive albums in the past few years. They’re fixing to come out with a new one, and I’m waiting with bated breath.

So, for your consideration, I submit “Hate to Say I Told You So” from Vidi, Vidi, Vicious:

They rock, they’re ugly, they’re sweaty and they’re snotty. I miss that kind of shit. More anger-fueled and high energy music needed to come save the world.

They’re on tour, but they’re kicking it with stadium shows and with Maroon 5 (who can suck salty balls) and the closest they’re coming is Columbia. I won’t be seeing them this time, but the live show is wicked.

Like a shot of meth - or so I hear.

But - they’re still around and still making great music. They’re at the Orange Peel in a couple of weeks. I won’t go. I’ll regret it in a couple of months, but like I’ve said before - I am very old. And tired. And lazy.

They’re latest single - with a cool video:

You’ve got the angst, mixed with the art, mixed with the fun. Fugazi is (or was) rock at it’s finest.

Found this little gem on YouTube - a funny sort of mash-up of Robot Chicken and Fugazi. Très funny!

God, I wish we had the internet when I was younger. But then again, I would have never left my room…

I submit that today’s mainstream “punk” is no more punk than Stevie Wonder. Quite probably - much less.

The immediacy is missing. The anger and hate is missing. The fun is kind of gone, too. It’s become pop music. And pop music with 3 chords is not even good pop music.

So, yeah - I’m saying today’s punk, by and large, is not punk. I’m an elitist and a bit of a purist. An asshole, too.

But, hey - if you dig it, that’s cool. I dig a lot of crap, too…

Or so I thought.

We’d raise hell and shout and break things and act like we were tough. Listen to music way too loud and do things into all hours of the night.

Looking back, it was all sort of this funny haze of country nights under the stars, coolers full of Coors and a bunch of us acting like idiots. We were punk as hell - but only as punk as you could be in Western North Carolina. Kind of redneck-punk, I guess. We spent just as much time around the cows and cicadas as we did in the Spider’s Web or Chesterfield Mill or Fine Arts.

But, there was always the straight man. The one that kept us out of real trouble. The one that made sure we didn’t wake up the grown-ups. The one that made sure we always made it back alive. He knows who he is and what I’m talking about, and I really have never taken the time to say thanks.

We gave him more than his share of hell, and he took it with aplomb. He deserved to have more fun - and I feel like we let him take care of all us at his expense. He deserved better friends.

But - here’s to you, Steve. Thanks for it all. You’re the man.

But, we used to drink a pot or two of java, fire up the VCR and pop in some great titles. Toxic Avenger (and all the Troma flicks,) anything with Bruce Campbell in it, anything with blood on the cover or the promise of zombie boobs. We’d occasionally throw in the science fiction picture, but mostly, it was horror and gore.

I miss the campiness, the fun of sitting around glued to the flickering tube at 4 in the morning, watching dismemberments, reanimations and normally inanimate objects coming to life and killing hundreds of scantily clad college girls.

Oddly, it kept us out of trouble, our bloodlust. Sure, we screwed around and did things illegal or immoral, but in a weird way, the movies kept us grounded. Let out some of that teen angst with every thrust of a machete in those grainy movies.

I miss hanging out and laughing and chilling out until the wee hours. Such simple times. I think that’s what I miss. Simplicity and no real stress. Punk was simple. Still is. Maybe that’s why it still appeals to me in my old age. Simple…

I wax pathetic again. One of our faves, for your viewing pleasure:

Manny, Moe and Jack

I wish I could find “Bowling with Bedrock Barney,” but alas…

I remember MTV airing Punks and Poseurs and what a bonanza it was. Dickies, GBH, Afflicted, Whipping Boy. Awesome. We actually wore the VHS tape out, but we also dubbed it onto beta (yeah - BETA!) and made audio cassettes, too. Amazing how loud you could listen to a tape that was so warbly and bad.

But, it still stands - one of the best things MTV ever did. Now, only a memory in the caffeine-addled brain of an aspiring millionaire graphic design guru. Still punk after all these years.

Well, sort of. Not really - but I like to pretend.

This did excite me just a little:

Although, in some ways, a movie about punk is pretty un-punk. Hmm. Now I’m all dizzy. That’s a lot to think about. I should lay down.