yukon jerk

now that everyone has had a chance to take in the train-wreck of a performance i gave during tit patrol's otherwise fantastic show at The Depot in york, pa, i would like to make the following excuse/explanation. During a conversation with the bartender about the legality of over-serving patrons, i must have consumed at least 10 shots of Yukon Jack--the finest of Canadian whiskey liquors. This is in addition to the 5 or so shots i enjoyed while bowling my ass off to christian hip-hop and crazy disco lights. pepper in a multitude of beers throughout our day and you've got the whole story. I have been drunk on stage before. anyone who has seen tit patrol can attest to that. at one time i had developed a now disproven theory that 64 ounces of malt liquor was the appropriate, nay necessary, ammount of beer to drink before stepping on stage. This night was an entirely different animal. For those of you unfamiliar with yukon jack, allow me to enlighten you.

The back of the bottle offers this description: “Yukon Jack is a taste born of hoary nights, when lonely men struggled to keep their fires lit and cabins warm, boldly flavorful yet surprisingly smooth, there is no spirit like Yukon Jack.” And boy are they right! this self professed "black sheep of canadian whiskeys" is not to be trifiled with. Its taste can roughly be approximated as a mix of Lord Calvert canadian whiskey mixed with licorice and a dash of cough syrup. very interesting. it's the Moxie of spirits. It is also important to note here that it clocks in at a very healthy 100 proof.

it's effects are similar to any other alcohol-- feelings of invincibility, a percieved excellence on the dance floor, crotch grabbing and, apparently, off key caterwalling. Yukon jack, however, offers something that most intoxicating beverages don't--speed and sneakinness. I remember everything until getting onto that stage. were it not for the videos i would remeber only launching myself off stage during space robots and asking todd when we were going to play a song we had played several minutes prior. i have seen yukon jack turn stalwart young men into blithering, stumbling, pugilistic dimwits. i have seen yukon jack almost singlehandedly destroy not just one night of an otherwise happy relationship, but entire weeks! property and reputations destroyed! i tangled with this monster and got off lite with only a passably-bad performance and a wicked back ache. it could have been much, much worse.

oh, yukon jack, how i love thee. it's an abusive relationship, there is no doubt about that. But isn't a characteristic of most abusive relationships the tendency of the battered, bruised and embarassed spouse to keep coming back expecting a different result? well, here i am. lemme have it!

grant patrol

p.s.- yukon jack reps who may be reading this--i am actively seeking corporate sponsorship. i will continue to enjoy your product regardless, but who doesn't want a free t-shirt?

p.p.s.- bar owners who feature yukon jack in their establishments--tit patrol is actively booking shows and this inebriate singer wants to hurl himself to your floor! (not hurl on your floor. that i will do my best to avoid) www.myspace.com/titpatrolmur. hit us up!

i'm irish, aparently!

though i have always been under the impression that i am not irish, i've always been a fan of celebrating st. patrick's day primarily due to my dear friend st. kevin murphy's complete and utter irishness (though i prefer his polishness!). this year, however, is different! i no longer have to be lumped in with other fair-weather irish folk/special occasion drinkers. i have recently discovered that i do have a little irish in me; and not in that dirty way that that some micks (i can say that now) might allude to sexual intercourse. apparently, and my family members who may be reading this can correct me if i'm wrong, my great-great grandfather, the grandfather of margaret robinson, was fresh off the boat from ireland when he met and married a cherokee indian woman, thus beginning half of my wonderful family! so, safe in the knowledge that i am of irish heritage, however slight it may be, i am on may way to drink irish whiskey with jillian and rob willis, kevin murphy, patrick sheilds, brian mackey, and whatever other uber-irish name i can stumble upon!

erin go braless, ladies!

grant mcpatrol

it's so easy to fall in sludge!

this is a public service announcement! be sure to type carefully while surfing around the interslice. Just moments ago, while attempting to visit danny's blog, i did what i normally do to accomplish such a task: i typed the address into the address bar and hit return. little did i know that due to my careless typing i was headed towards a most unexpected website!

type in rdanthology.blogspot.com and you will arrive at danny's blog and be bombarded by RBI scores, pictures of a few most-excellent bands and cheerleading squads.

type in rdanthology.blogpot.com, however, and you will arrive at an extremely fundamentalist christian bible website!

i know what you're thinking: "grant! how did you escape their fiendish bible thumping ways and escape with your ideology intact?!" well, due to years of internet pornography viewing , i am pretty much entirely desensitized to internet propaganda ( this is also, i imagine, the reason for my avoidance of "favorites" and history-saving options provided by web browsers. both of which would have helped me avoid this entire hornet's nest!). a less jaded viewer may not be so lucky. so unless you are a seasoned virtupervert, please type with care!

the wastoid's got a basstoid!

hey, yall!

i took a break (roughly 20 mins) to drink some brown liquor and play my new bass, so i figured i'd come back and write about that!

i recently purchased a peavey frankenstein bass from ebay, and i couldn't be more pleased! it plays well and it looks sweet. it also allows me to practice as much as i want without impinging on anyone else's practice schedule. suffice to say that wastoid basslines will be expressed with utmost authority! if only i could convince a certiain tit patrol bass player to teach me how to really play the damn thing...

anyway, here's what it looks like. it cobbled together from a p-bass body and a peavey neck. good ole' peavey!


come check out Hot Toddy and the Wilmington Wastoids on St. Patty's Day @ the Spot! you know Murph will be there, and you know he'll be doing something nuts! one st. patty's day i saw him buy a keg, pass out, and have his pants fall down all before 11 o'clock! go king mur!

son of sniglet?

So, as danny mentioned in his most recent post of his most-prolific blog, tit patrol played a most excellent show last night on paper mill rd--almost directly across the street from one of our previous epicenters of debauchery. he did a fine job of covering the night's acts, so i'll avoid redundancy by simply saying that without the kick-ass performances of The Impatients, Ba-durr!, Tragic Johnson, and the support of the raucus crowd, the evening could not have been as excellent as it was.

he did touch on one point, however, that i feel needs some expanding.

On HBO's 1980 series Not Necessarily News, comedian Rich Hall developed a bit in which he created new words to express situations which, although common, do not have words specific to themselves. He dubbed these "sniglets". I propose that there ought to be a word, a sniglet, if you will, to describe the feeling, nay the instinctual reaction, that accompanies being moshed upon by an obnoxious schlub when no other moshing is occuring. It is a feeling which Jason Mewes, while playing Jay, the popular movie character, very accurately exemplifies when he is tapped on the shoulder and, instinctively, spins around with his fist cocked--ready to smite the offender's stupid face. (i'll add here that though i am not generally a violent person, i do often feel like Daniel-San in the middle of The Karate Kid III when he fucks up that dude's nose because he has been brain washed by the tutelidge of the insidious Cobra-Kai. That's why i asked todd to hold onto my 40oz!)

that being said, i am asking my readers (i know who you are, all (maybe) four of you!) to please suggest some new words that we can use to describe this feeling! keep in mind it does not have to be restricted to the realm of moshing; that is simply the action which gave rise to my mission. any suprising confrontation that seems to demand swift and decisive action is fair game! might i suggest: debeardestration, geddoffamybackatizing, dejerkafying, or antibummeration. though most of those may be better applied to other situations. but, like i said, the ball is in your court!

p.s.-i know moshing, and outright fighting (shut the fuck up, alex), pretty much always rule, but please, moshers and fighters, be mindful of context and situation lest you be debeardestrated! if you have any questions about how to destroy a crowd appropriately, just ask my friends Tragic Johnson--they know what the fuck is up!