Lotsa Stuff Going On In My Life. Honest.

The Bad Boys of Rock & Roll

By Ken Socrateez

Last friday night down at the Rec Center hall was one for the record books. My uncle, Timmy Tunes and his band of hard-jamming madmen got together for their one hundreth show and the entire town turned out for what ended up being the social gathering of the century here in Cawker City. Everybody who was anybody was there, especially a certain cow-tipping madman who had pen in hand to record the momentous occaision. Also on hand was the mayor's cousin, Allen "The Gallon" Whendt, who was his usual outrageous self and had everyone laughing with his High Water High Step routine and that weird birthmark on his forehead. Many of the town celebrities showed up including Denny Duncan, who owns the gun shop and the cable company and says that he might show highlights of the concert on his weekly local-access show, That Darn Denny Duncan!. Also sighted amidst the throng: Stampy McLouvre, the stamp collecting drunk, Myrna Touttee, who brought a couple of neat items from her taxidermy collection, and a couple guys from GWAR. The place was packed and yours truly had a front row sea when the shindig really started.

The band took the stage at about 7:15, giving everyone a good long time to get all hyped up on the potent atmosphere and the jug of Sprite and Schnapps making the rounds. The warm-up act, Glen Babcock and his Tonka Toy Revue had gotten boo'ed off the stage when they wouldn't take requests for stuff from their first album, which everyone agrees was their only good one. So when Timmy and the guys got up there and busted out their Casios, it was like heaven had come down to earth and was slapping us upside the head. With a loud "Woop, woop!" and a skykicking leap they busted into some mad free form new wave improv the likes of which Thomas Dolby had never even dreamed of. Girls in the audience started to pass out and a bunch of squirrels came diving out of the rafters and made for the doors, scaring the living poop out of Mrs. Hatteblanc, the coat check lady.

Things got really out of control when special guest guitarist Clive "Panty Sniffer" Schmidt took the stage to a thunderous round of applause and wild hooting. To have an ex-member of The Log Floaters and Steamy Waterfowl sit in for a set really shows just how legendary Timmy and his boys are. Not just in Kansas, either, but on a national level, obviously. People in the audience were freaking out when they launched into a 24 minute version of "Noodle Party" that had the roof shaking. I was so juiced I got up to do some stage diving and while the crowd had me hoisted up someone grabbed hold of my privates. It hurt like hell but also felt good in a way that I'm still trying to come to terms with, frankly. The music was total bliss though, and the crowd was swaying as one during the big synth solo and people were weeping openly. It was so intense that no one realized that it was past 11 until Sherriff Cordonbleu busted into the hall and truned a firehose on everyone. It was the one night that people sort of regretted having voted for a town curfew.

Anyway, there were only a few beatings and just one strip search and we all dispersed quietly. We were drenched but deep down we were happy, having participated in a night of Dionysian madness, a glory-filled evening of crazed abandon that the gods themselves could look down upon and feel jealous.

For that I thank you, Uncle Timmy. We all do.