Backstage at MotoBeach

The sky is thinner up here in Mammoth, and my heart tracks to a manic soundtrack as we line up.
The dark loam of the track leads up, up to a point before us that disappears into a brilliant backdrop of crystal blue sky framed by towering pines.
A cloud of blue smoke perfumed by premix gas floats around me as everyone starts revving, edging forward until our front knobbies kiss the starting gate.
Yet in that moment I can only think of how the whine and growl of the big 2 stroke motors sounds like nothing as much as the stinging clarion call of my new obsession, of a humbucked guitar fed through a Marshall half stack.

It is not the roar of engine but the Clash, Complete Control that I hear in my head as the gate drops and we all launch forward.

The long uphill start is answered naturally by a left handed 180 that funnels the riders back to the forest floor.
I brake hard and lean the RM400 toward the inside line, hoping to make up for a midpack start and gain a few positions from the riders riding the outside berm in a higher gear.
But my front wheel catches on a rock no bigger than a clenched fist, the front end collapses left then catches traction again, sending me off the track, off the hill, into the air.
I am weightless for an exquisite moment, the big Suzuki already falling toward the boulders eighteen feet below.
And for the first time in my young life I have the very certain feeling that this is going to hurt.
As I start to fall I imagine my mom, shaking her head in a hospital room, or perhaps beside the fresh dirt piled next to a coffin, sighing one last time-those goddamn motorcycles…..
But it is not my mother’s worried warnings about to be fulfilled that I hear inside my helmet, but the exasperated bark of Joe Strummer scolding me: Oh, oh oh-have we done something wrong?

Later, as the ER doctor was pointing out the various places on my body where orchid hued bruises would soon blossom, I was considering perhaps ending my motocross career.
And by the time he held an x-ray up to the light, tracing a pen along a single lightning bolt shaped crack on my right Scapula, I had already decided to sell the bike and finally purchase that 300 watt Peavey PA system down at Cerritos Music.

I took one last look at the glowing x-ray, a wedge of bone divided like a cartoon heart broken by a long lost love.

It was no big difference, I always thought, the move from motocross to punk rock.
The threat of noise assured, the chance of violence always imminent.
The camaraderie and and good natured ball breaking almost identical, backstage and the pits.
But I found I was better at being in a band, comparatively, and- bonus!– I could do it while drunk too!

Through the next decades when music, jobs….life nibbled away at my days, I always kept a simmering interest in motorcycles.
The amazing advances of 4 stroke motors and suspension, Supercross exploding in the 90s,
The opium smell of Blendzall simmering in the air, the stench of a porta potty with leathers at your ankles and a race starting in three minutes.
To walk the pits and check out bikes, talk shit with the other guys in your class, the tickle of a pebble in the sole of a stiff calf high boot-these are the things that live on in memory.
Familiar as the song that played in the background when you, fumbling, first lost your virginity.

This year’s MotoBeach classic was joined by the RedBull Straight Rhythm race, a single half mile straight motocross track to be built atop the parking lot of Huntington Beach State beach.
As we set up the pits Friday we glance up at the starting gate, thirty feet above our heads.
The lanes are littered with insane triple and quad jumps, a section of whoops jutting up like the armored scales along a dragon’s back.
But it is the wee oval track, mercifully free of jumps or dragons, that draws us old guys back to race.
It is a chance to race around for a few glorious laps on dusty old trail bikes, sure.
But more importantly, it is a day to reconnect with those sweet rituals of race day.
A chance to walk around the pits once again, to suit up in kneepads and boots, attend a confusing riders meeting in the chill of dawn.

Chris and Tbone, fucking Schmidt. They all show up to join me in the pits.
We’ve all hung out in dressing rooms in crumbling theatres, parking lots of roller rinks while punk rock riots raged and nights ended by police brutality.  
Yet we are here together, eating cold pizza and perched on folding chairs, thrilled to be here among MX pros and exotic bikes as if we were about to see The Jam reunite for a single sparkling gig.
To be once again backstage while the headliners fly above us, though sadly in this arena the lads can’t sneak into their dressing rooms to steal their beer.

I see Roger fucking DeCoster in the KTM pits and freeze.
It is like seeing Joe Strummer backstage in the flesh, an icon whose postered image has graced my bedroom wall, covered the bare studs of the garage as we clanged our way through those first awful practices.

I point my phone in his direction, trying to be sly about it, but he seems to sense his photo is being stolen once again.
He scowls toward me and I snap the picture, content to be acknowledged for a moment, even in scorn.

We see the top riders walk past our meager pop up all day.
Webb and Musquin, Barcia.
The names I’ve followed only though the 52 inch Vizio, absolute masters of the track on a Saturday night as I sit in my recliner and can barely stay up past 9.
They look small here, just kids really.
But when they take to the track it is astounding, the sheer speed as they attack the whoops, the grace and precision as they take to the sky.
On the last jump I watch as Ken Roczen casually whips his YZ sideways after an easy heat win.
As the bike twists almost backwards under him he casually points at a fan in the grandstand, 30 feet in the air and feet hovering over the pegs, certain he will land with feline grace on 2 wheels.

I am reminded then of my own last few races back then, when I realized I would never have the otherworldly skill of the professional riders I lined up next to.
Riders who seem to hover a millimeter above the bikes speeding below them, guiding them with sheer will.
I would forever be a mid pack rider, just as this band would never attain the headliner status of our heroes, but remain a good solid support act.
And that’s okay..

It’s enough to just be here, in the pits, or walking with guitar case in hand backstage, and feel part of something grander than can ever be described.

I miscalculated, and entered the vintage aircooled class.
I had pictured other old guys on clapped out pigs, but when I pull to the line I am among hissing Bultacos and Champion framed Kawasaki twins, the riders clad in full leathers, left boots heavy with hotshoe.

But I remind myself I am here on the beach, riding on a track again, and the thrill and pulse of the starting line remains the same.
Just as we have the honor of being allowed on a stage still.
Even if gifted an opening slot by a headlining band who used to listen to us back when they were kids.
The starter twirls the green flag above his head as he paces across the line, pointing at each of us in turn.
I twist the throttle wide open and try to conjure Strummer within my helmet once again.

I start at the back and stay there, passing just a couple of guys who either stall out or slide wide on the blue grooved track.
But I am grinning under that helmet, letting the back end slide out as I jump on the gas, singing a song that only I can hear.
It’s over too fast, of course, and when I pass under the checkered flag I am already regretting taking off the gear and breaking down the pits.
Letting this day go.

As I ride back through the pits I get a few people clapping toward me, just for virtue of being out there I guess.
But then a couple guys point at my jersey and give me the thumbs up, for I have had the gall to wear my own merch today.
Channel 3! Whoo!, yells one guy, pointing out my shirt to the child perched upon his shoulders.
He turns his head up to shout up to his kid, over the roar of motorcycles over the roar of time rushing past us all.

That was a band I used to go see, he yells. They used to be great!

My Dinner with Danzig

Every parent faces this day.
The daughter comes home on a blustery December day, gray but for the gaudy Christmas decorations that graffito the suburban landscape.
She’s maybe 6 or 7, and asks the question you just knew was coming.

Hey Dad-Dad, is there really a Santa Claus?

This is Baby’s first existential crisis, the first questioning of the only reality she has known, a view of an alternate world – colder and darker –  brought forth of recess gossip.
She is about to enter the cynical world, and it will not be long before she sees her first Kardashian or some fucking little bastard offers to show her a penis.


News item:
The original Misfits will be appearing at  Forum in Inglewood CA for their upcoming December 30th concert.
And the shit hits the fan.

We are 138….thousand smackeroos richer that is!

The punks online have become divided, incensed that the band has reunited for another one-off and sold out spectacularly.   Others, not so lucky to have seen them in the grimy clubs way back when, have bought out the room in a day–I mean, c’mon–The Misfits!

I suppose there was a time when you would smile at such news, be it a bemused smirk or facial tell of joy, and then go about the day.  But then along came a little thing I like to call The Internet-catchy, yes?

Have we become so cynical as to put down every small victory for the tribe?  Has social media made it so easy to post up any slight immediate judgement before introspection and digestion?  Be it an indictment on a band’s movements or a misguided defense of right-wing nationalists? Ahem

Yeah yeah, I know it’s hard to ignore the missteps the Misfits have taken, the public squabbles and Kiss-like merchandising.
And it’s just too damn easy to take the piss out of acts that are supposed to be serious or, god forbid, scary.

Is it a defense mechanism against the darkness?
I dunno, but why do you think Elvira has those glorious tits?

Those songs though.
How can you discount the long nights in the van, headlights carving out a tunnel though the moonless night, and everyone singing along whoa-ohs! to the gems we were gifted.
50’s melodies and crashing guitars, the perfect mix to transport yet another boring summer night driving through the tracts into a memory of youth.

And with Danzig, hell–there’s no need to spend precious time trying to decipher these lyrics.
For surely when Westerberg talks about rabbits In the yard, those aren’t rabbits, and there is no yard.

The Misfits want your skull.

Made it to the fuckin’ Fabulous Forum, people!
Home of Showtime, the temple where we once saw Keith Moon come out at a Zeppelin encore and smash Bonham’s kettle drums.

When Cheap Trick finally made it to headliner at the Forum there was a bit of a sting.
The band we first saw at the Whisky was now lost to the masses-but that is a different sort of discontent, isn’t it?
We had to admit an almost parental pride in our boys making it to Inglewood on their own merit, the rest of the world catching up to our great taste.

Who are we to begrudge anyone such an honor?

The long 1983 tour, we sweated through the Southern continent through July and finally made it up to Yankee territory just as the year surrendered to August.
We’d been in the van a month by now, and needed a night of gold star stature to remind us just what the hell we were trying to do here.
And so Kimm had somehow made some calls from Jack Rabid’s place and made arrangements to make a stop before the gig.

We pull up at a regular old NJ suburban pad, and after a polite knock that rattles the screen door, who answers but goddamn Glenn Danzig!

Oh sure, we’d met a few times before, on their West coast jaunts and at the disastrous NY eve show Irving plaza 1981, but now here we are standing in his basement as he rinsed out glasses to serve us tap water!
I dunno why this seemed strange, as we’d accepted the hospitality of a half-dozen punk rock heroes by now. Hell, I could still savor the soothing deliciousness of a pbj Biscuit had made me after a late night gig in Austin.
But I just somehow thought Glenn would live in a haunted castle or at least a trailer on the edge of a graveyard.

We had our waters and chatted a bit, he dug out some EvilLive t-shirts fresh off his screen and we traded merch. Then he yelled goodbye to his Dad upstairs (in a throaty roar, natch) before jumping in the Blue and White with us.

He pointed out local landmarks, (Here’s where Jimmy got clobbered, that there’s where Tammy flipped her Camaro)
And not to get too Springsteen on your asses, but it was pretty great driving through that golden Jersey landscape with Glenn in the van, he guiding us to some cool place to pregame before the show.

We thought he was taking us to some underground dungeon or at least a dive bar with Thriller on the jukebox and AB negative on tap.
But when we pulled into a strip mall parking lot, we got out and discovered ourselves at, of all things, a goddamned video arcade.
And no beer in sight?

Glenn jumped out, looked into the flashing parlor, then back to us to follow.
He was just a kid like us after all.

And yes, that is how we spent the day, late afternoon rolling into darkness, in a bleeping booping video arcade, a stack of patina-ed quarters in hand.
And ya know what? We had a goddamned blast!

I rediscovered my love hate relationship with Centipede as Doug challenged all comers to Ms Pac Man. I think Jackie and Jay took on the local Jr High kids in a fierce air hockey tourney that is still talked about in certain circles as Glenn and Kimm went to the old school pinball gallery.

We were a band that relied-heavily-on drinking in the local flavor before a gig. And by local flavor I mean copious amounts of booze, sometimes to disastrously hilarious result.
Yet here we were reconnected to the inner child that welcomed a night off the bottle.

And when we finally encountered the all new Dragon’s Lair game in the corner, really a ground breaker back then  that incorporated movie graphics in a rather clunky choose-your-path sort of game, we gathered around it and watched: amazed.
I saw Glenn staring at the game, and could imagine his thoughts, the world of fantasy where he roamed, merged with a new technology.  Bringing the experience ever closer to the cinema that he loved.

And at the gig that night, he jumped on stage during the closer of Wetspots, and was promptly dog piled on by the local knuckleheads, keeping him in check, all  in good cheer.
We had found the night that we needed.


Kimm singing along, 1982?



Now, who told you there was no Santa? I’m asking, the old stall tactic that every parent knows.

The kid only shrugs while looking away, a look betraying the shame and burden of understanding.

I could only pick her up and swing her onto my shoulder, and then we stand before the big mirror in the living room.  It’s the spot where I’ve held her since she was just an infant, to show her the reflected world:  non-existent yet identical.

And then, together, we look and look back at once.
Dad and kid, one generation literally sitting atop the other, a man she will some day have to bury.

And then I ask her.

Well, what do you think is better?  To live in a world there is no Santa?
Or to live in a world where Santa Claus will always come on Christmas?

She thinks for a moment, then she smiles.

The CH3 Eye on TV: Glee!

Things have been a little slow here at the CH3 Entertainment desk, so we were intrigued when we received advance copies of the season finale of some show —-Glee!

Have you heard of this one?
Don’t feel bad, me either bub!

Apparently, it’s the story of a bunch of high school kids that are part of a Glee Club.
A Glee Club? What the fuck is that you axe?

You know, a choir……chorus—singing, ya got me? A Glee Club!
Hand me my raccoon coat and Yale flag, ol chum, because I have a feeling we’re in for a pip of a time with this one!

So anyway, this sitcom is about some misfit kids that get together and sing pop songs, and they have high school dramas and some people hate them, and then they win at the end.

Excuse me, but I would like to congratulate the fine folks in Development over at Fox, for their courage to apparently green light every piece of shit that comes across their desks these days!

But far be it from me to bad mouth any show that shows popular music on television.
I hate to go back to my familiar, when I was a kid mantra, but…
When I was a kid, we didn’t have all these chances to see the music on TV!
Oh no.

Back in the day, it was a real treat to see rock and roll on the box!!

Which one's the cute moron and which one's the cynical wit? Remind me again!

You see all these interviews about future stars and that life changing moment: The Beatles on Ed Sullivan!

Pretty cool I guess, although I was more impressed by the little homosexual mouse that Ed had a strange pedio/beastial arrangement with!

....I'll be back later to tuck you in, if ya get my drift!

Oh, we had a lil bit of rockin TV on those measly seven channels available:

See kids? Before he was a lovable dope addled TV dad, Ozzy used to be someone!!

Midnight Special was pretty good too, although you had to sit through goddman Maria Muldaur or Captain and Tenille before they got to Alice Cooper lip-synching Cold Ethel!

But then again, you know you loved it—- all alone on a Friday night, watching Tenille and those lips just millimeters from a phallic mic as you dry-humped the couch, didn’t you ya, ya little perv!

mmm..that's it baby, I'm almost there!

Things got a little better, just before MTV came along and forever changed the way we saw music.
Perhaps the culmination was this inevitable meeting of the 2 most influential musical forces to a young and incubating CH3!!!:

It’s all changed now, of course.

We have 24 hour streaming crap fests of rap music videos, live performances of the Moody Blues on You Tube….. Pay per View of the Eagles shilling their dreaded comeback/farewell tour yet again.

And reality television?
Whoo boy, what the fuck did we ever do before this valuable glimpse at what Gene Simmons does with his spare time!

Gee, what about Eddie Money?
Go ahead and give him a show too, goddamnit, what the hell do I care any more?!

Hello. May I introduce you to an hour of your life you will never get back.

Sorry, what the hell were we talking about?


Hey, here’s a good looking bunch, am I right?
……let’s see, we have the gay kid, the Oriental, the fat chick, the sassy sister and the quad.

What, no Down’s kids or crack whores were available at the time of filming?

Alright, we get it! Diversity, united colors, we’re all beautiful….blah blah

I can’t wait til next season, when I hear they will be introducing two new exciting cast members: the spunky kid with leprosy and a young color blind hamas terrorist!

Oh, but wait til you hear this kid sing Billy Joel!

Ah, but clever writers, these lovable losers are more than they appear!

The geeks are the stars, the queers are the studs, Korean kids are bad at math but good at dancing!
And the kid in the wheelchair is….I shit you not…the MC wit the most skill, spittin mad sixteens like we ain’t heard since Bushwick Bill!

Yo....step off ma dick 'fore I cap yo ass!

Black is white, up is down, cats bitch slap dogs and make them co-sign bad loans….hold me, I’m seeing spots again!!

Don’t these people see the goddamn harm they’re doing to the social fabric?
Oh, they call these kids the outcasts, but they’re really the cool kids, don’t ya see?

Is this how you remember High School? Fuck No.

Without the cruel torture of High School, and its true social strata, where is the sweet revenge to be savored decades later?

The gay kid who goes on to own a whole apartment building in Belmont Shores, the Oriental geek from Math Club now owns the Bio Tech firm housed in those sleek black monoliths off the 405 in Irvine?
No More.

Apparently they’re now happy in High School!

...but I am beautiful inside. Agree or i will eat your fingers!

And the Fat Chick?

If she’s getting all this quality self esteem in High School, where will we ever get the next generation of fag hags and enthusiastic phone sex operators, hmmmm?
In a world where everyone is the cool kid, where is the enemy?

Oh, but the music!
Is that what ya said? The music?!

Listen, If I wanted to see some cut rate Babs and Andy Williams butcher Islands in the Stream, I’d go down to my local Tibbies Music Hall.
At least there I could have a drink and get a decent Sirloin out of the ordeal!

Try to act casual and look seventeen...action!

Gee, the singing, the dancing……. hey! Where the hell do these kids get the budget for these production numbers, huh?
Is that where my precious Lottery dollars are going, goddamnit?

...let's see, with the stunt casting and water effects, this little number cost the school district 45 grand. No big, we'll just pink slip a dozen teachers, k?

We had a brief hope that things would spark up when we caught a glimpse of one kid with an actual mohawk!
We were all but certain that the kids would next break into a heart warming rendition of GG Alin’s I Wanna Fuck the Shit Out of You…..!

Hey we're gettin somewhere!

But no.
Ol’ Mohican just looks mean, and then stares straight into lens and starts singin’ motherfuckin Journey!


Is this what John Lennon came over here, sweating under klieg lights in Cuban heels, and was eventually killed for?
So that a bunch of whiny brats could introduce a new generation to crappy classic rock??

Oh yes.
See, after each episode, the kids flock to Itunes and download these mysterious melodies they’ve just heard.
And then, hey Dad, check out these cool songs I discovered on my program!

Congratulations. You open up the bank statement and discover junior has just purchased the entire Fleetwood Mac back catalogue.

Is this what’s really driving the show, hmmmm?

Why do I get the uneasy feeling this crapfest is really just a thinly disguised version of the ol Columbia House record club scam!

I now own Zep IV and a dozen Toys in the Attics......

Oh, you know–that was where you got to pick out 13 —13!–albums for just a penny each!! whooo !
But then, God help you, if you didn’t keep up with this boiler room operation and decline the next offering, you’d come home to discover Steely Dan’s Aja on your doorstep, and now you’re liable for that piece of shit and shipping—-!

Thank God, we have the always fine Jane Lynch playing Sue Sylvester, the only character we care about—because she’s saying what we’re thinking!!

Now this gentleman we can stand behind!

Yeah, they’re all Losers.
But guess what? We’re the Losers too, people, for watching this load!

Gimmee my dvd of Gummo, will ya, so I can wash the taste out of my mouth!!!

Ya don't sing, do ya kid? Good! Let's keep it that way....

*Watch Glee on Fox TV, Tuesday nights at 10!

Like this at Facebook!

You and Your Blog’s Health…….

Last week we received an email from the fine folks over at WordPress, who apparently host this blog you are currently reading.

I thought we’d finally gone too far with our recent entry on the subtle differences between Japanese and German scat fetishes and had our masthead revoked!

But no.

Filled with strange statistics and bizarre terms, it was a report of this Blog’s status for 2010.
Now, we try not to get too involved in the logistics of this whole webby/intranet thingy–afterall, we saw The Matrix too, brother!

You see, we simply paid a Cambodian exchange student to set all this up online and started typing.
But it seems as though there are people that pay attention to these doings on the web, and no, I don’t mean the federal agents that take note every time you log onto this site.
*(Sorry about all that Anarchyboy13 @ gmail. Your court case is going along nicely though I see!)

These geeks actually keep track of how many times people look in on us, how they got here, what kind of cars they drive, if their fillings are silver or porcelain, blah blah…..

I know, right? Who gives a fuck.
But they went to all the trouble of sending out this report, so let’s take a look, shall we?


The stats helper monkeys at mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:

Healthy blog!

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Wow.

Heh. Did you read that motherfuckers?
The Blog-Health-o-Meter reads “Wow.”

Now, I don’t know exactly what the hell a Blog-Health-o-Meter actually is, though I imagine it looks comparable to a sigmoidoscope complete with a tiny colon probe….

Hmmm.....I see your RSS feed subscriptions are low this quarter....

I’ll take it.

We can’t go arguing with the ol’ Blog-Health-o-Meter, now can we?
Ok, let’s Keep Reading:

Crunchy numbers

Featured image

The average container ship can carry about 4,500 containers. This blog was viewed about 19,000 times in 2010. If each view were a shipping container, your blog would have filled about 4 fully loaded ships.

In 2010, there were 34 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 83 posts. There were 779 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 250mb. That’s about 2 pictures per day.

The busiest day of the year was June 3rd with 185 views. The most popular post that day was To Rebellion: Travel Day to Blackpool.

Nineteen Thousand views for the past year?!

And not one of you bastards can buy a T-shirt from the website? Huh?

I was just as shocked as you, people.
Oh sure, we get a couple of comments written in now and then, but most of the responses are spam from Russian beastiality porn sites.
And Alf’s creditcard is still screwed up from that!

But jeezus!-at 19,000 views, we could start selling some advertising space on this page, get a little scratch going!

Oh, don’t whine you goddamn hippies. It’s nothing we’ve decided on just yet.
But in the meantime, let’s take a little break here and enjoy a word from one of our fine and tasteful sponsors:

Gold Bond. The #1 Anti-Itch cream of aging punkers!

And we’re back!
That wasn’t so bad, now was it?

The report goes on to tell us where you good readers came from.
I was excited about this, as I thought they could actually tell us the locations that people were logging on from.
You know, corporate offices, public libraries, soup kitchens…….

But turns out they just keep track of the other sites that refer people to us?
Is that how this thing works?

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were,,,, and

Some visitors came searching, mostly for true blood, iron maiden eddie, john waters, larry walters, and eddie iron maiden.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.


To Rebellion: Travel Day to Blackpool August 2009
1 comment


San Diego III December 2009


The CH3 Eye on TV: True Blood September 2009


Larry Walters June 2009


The Channel 3 Movie Coming to a Theatre Next Summer! July 2009
1 comment


You mean to tell me the most popular posts were written back in 2009??

There is a post on there, the one about San Diego, that got thousands of hits.
And why?
Because it contained one picture of Eddie from Iron Maiden!!!

Oh, so that’s how it is?
You people didn’t come here to learn about the heroic adventures of a punk band on its feeble yet cheerful last legs, eh?

No, you are here solely because you typed Iron Maiden or True Blood into Google and *poof!* you end up on a site looking at pictures of food and drunken punk rockers?
And then you exit as fast as possible, wondering what the hell kind of virus is gonna pop up now…..oh yeah—we see you!

So I suppose we could just load this page up with a bunch of gossipy drivel and random images and the count would skyrocket, is that it?

Well, we have a little too much integrity for that.
We’re old school punk rockers after all, and I’d like to think we still have our old values intact.

Good day Sir!

In the meantime, here’s a picture of a topless Megan Fox with her tongue sticking out.

Related Tags: Megan Fox, Tongue, Fox's Tongue, Megan tongue, Please Read My Blog


Blue Christmas

News item: Denver Channel 7 News:
DENVER — An atheist group is planning to put three billboards up near the nativity scene at Denver’s City and County Building.
“There should not be a government supported religion. And that’s exactly what this is,” said Marvin Straus, a Boulder-area atheist.
The signs will say, “Stop government support of religion, move this Denver nativity scene to a church.”

Wha tha Fa?
Oh come on now! Are we gonna let some goddamn correctist wackjobs put a stop to our traditional Christmas?

If yer like me, nothing says Christmas is comin like some Chinese made figurines, hand detailed with lead paint by a 8 year old slave, set on some asbestos straw and displayed on your dangerously overheated Korean cd changer. It’s tradition, am I right?

Alright, so maybe the religious hayride is a little too much for you hipsters. But work with me people!

We gotta protect what we know: Christmas as that wacky tacky time of year, when we can relax and enjoy the traditional rituals we’ve known since childhood.

Christmas is the time to start drinking at an inappropriate hour.
To gorge yourself on fatty snacks, leer at the women in the room and tell your superiors exactly what their fuckin problem is!

In other words, Christmas is the time when all of you can act like we here at CH3 do all year long!!

I gotta gun, man....urp...I gotta puke!

And goddamn it, if we’re not careful we’re gonna end up with some politically correct government holiday where there’s no mention of Jesus, no Christmas trees allowed at City Hall, and worst of all!—no booze allowed at the company party!!

This will not do.

I want Christmas…..I want My Christmas!!
I want the Christmas that we all share, formed by too many nights sitting too close to the tv set, breathing in the toxic fumes of a garishly flocked aluminum tree.

I want Christmas to usher in the cheesy old claymation Specials on CBS, where Heat Miser and Snow Miser do a soft shuffle with baby Jesus!

King of Kings! Enjoy it now, before the Jews get hold of ya!!

And the commercials of our youth? Where’d they go?

When I see Santa comin, he’d better damn well be comin down the slopes on the three floating heads of the Norelco Shavemaster, brother!!!

Weee! Next we're gonna shave someone's balls!

I want the Charlie Brown Special, where he goes and buys the worst tree in the world after he and Pigpen burn a Purple Kush fattie behind the gym!

I want the Goddamn Grinch, and not fuckin Jim Carrey either!
I want the cartoon guy, who gives back all the toys, after he and Max pull the all nighter in the meth lab.
Yeah, we know what’s up with those choppers bub!

...who's got a vcr they need fixed?!

And Rudolph!

Oh gee, remember that one? Where he saves the day with his acne, and wasn’t there a gay dentist in there too? What was that about?
And the abominable snowman?!

This shit is just flooding back to me!
And remember when the CocaCola Bear eats Rudolph in the end??
Good Times…..

*burp* That reindeer is a little gamy, no?

So it was with the holiday spirit in mind that we showed up at The Laundry Room to record a track for the elves over at
Blackhole Records for their newest Holiday platter, Cashing in on Christmas VolII!!!!!

Santa looks pretty pervy without his mustache, eh?

And though it is on a balmy 98 degree October evening that we watch Alfie hump the gear in, in our souls it is the middle of Winter Solstice:
Virtual eggnog courses through our veins and the faint ringing in our ears– normally the pesky onset of tinnitus—-
today those distant chimes are sleighbells!!

Load that shit in Vato! I'm feelin productive!

As usual, when we report to the studio we bring along the black velvet Elvis along for good vibes.
Fun Fact: If you look closely, you will see his teardrop has slowly gotten longer over the years.

Do not question this magic---just accept!

Late in the evening, when energy sags and the take count mounts, we put our boy with Uly’s collection—behold the power!!

And fitting it is, for what holiday gem have we chose for this project?
Blue Christmas!!!!!

Yeh, you got it brother, we tackled a mountain this time!!

Oh ho, clever, clever boys! While everyone else chose more traditional carols and comtemporary classics to defile, yer pals here decided to cover the King’s classic.
I mean, who else would think to attempt such a thing???

Heh….turns out there’s a goddamn internet radio station dedicated to nothing but versions of the song!

Revenge of Blue Christmas!

We pulled off a nice take with this one….respectful but rocking, just the thing to kick off the ol’ Christmas cheer, eh?

So friends, I want you to put on the slippers and the ugliest sweater you have.
Light a candle and break out the fudge.
Give the kids a double dose of Benadryl and put em to bed at 7pm!

It’s time to pour a tall one and ring in the holiday season with yer ol buddies at the CH3 manger:

God Bless us Everyone!

Vegan Cooking with CH3

Alright already, we hear ya…..After our recent entry chronicling our ongoing search for the world’s largest Chicken Fried Steak:

Oh My...bring 3 more and 2 to go, please!

And our step by step instructional video on making this bacon-mug-filled-with-nacho-cheese backstage surprise:

We started to get a lot of concerned emails from our readers.
Apparently, a lot of you have become alarmed at this behavior. Something about precariously high cholesterol levels and the well being of any domesticated animals within a fork length of Anthony.

Roasted pork knuckle before meeting Mr. Anthony......
Roasted pork knuckle before meeting Mr. Anthony......

...and after!
...and after!

In fact, our pals over at Anarchy in the Garden started to protest outside our gigs, even going so far as to throw red paint on Alf’s winter mink!

Oh sure--it's Anarchy in the Garden...but Hector says it's a police state in the bedroom!! Hey0!

What–you don’t recall our recent recipe for making these cool Black Flag bars out of peanut butter toast? Huh?

It's not my imagination...I'm having an allergic reaction!!

Fine by us. We’re not like those snooty TV chefs that frown on vegetarian behavior. And yeah, yer right. We gotta start watching our health.
I mean, we gotta stay in shape now that we’re all pushing forty *cough*

So I’m thinking today we should tackle a simpe pasta sauce, made from fresh tomatoes, basil, shallot and green onion.
That’s it.

You’ll really taste the flavors of these fantastic gifts from the garden, and if you’ll follow these simple steps you’ll be amazed by the difference attention to detail makes in your cooking.

Feel the freshness---go on!

Let me say this. You cannot make anything worthwhile with store bought tomatoes. Mealy and tasteless, they are like the shriveled testicles of Jose Canseco.

No, you’ll have to venture to your neighborhood Farmer’s Market.
Hey, why not try the one on Sundays right there on Marina Drive in Long Beach?
Yeah—that’s the one. You always wondered what the hell all those hippies with the canvas bags were doing while you were heading to the round bar at Hof’s for your hangover Bloody Mary’s!
So let’s get that Bloody and go!

mmm...I smell patchouli and birkenstocks!

Now wan’t that better than goddamn Albertson’s, hmmm?
And a big plus—on the way home you get to stop at the outdoor bar at Crab Pot and get a delicious Sam Adams in a 32 oz Mug! Make it 2, we have a lot of hot kitchen comin our way……..

What? I suppose you cook sober, your majesty?!

Alright then. We’re home with a mellow buzz, fresh vegetables in hand and feeling good about Ma Nature. Reward yerself with a pull off the ol Jamesons bottle, yeah?

Hey—this vegetarian business ain’t half bad!! Maybe a lil hackysack later on today if the weather’s nice……

Now just gotta run over to Pavillions to get a touch of olive oil.
Be right back with ya, but in the meantime go ahead and watch this wicked J-video of a cat standing up.
Ha! He thinks he’s people!!!!!

Hey kids-quick change of plans, okay?

Would you look at these beautiful short ribs those suckers had at 1.90 a pound, discounted 20% with club card!!! I had to buy ‘em, don’t ya see?

Oh come on!!! Look at that delicious fat!

Oh, shut the fuck up, Commies. We’ll get to your goddamn goat food another time, kay? But today, let’s put the fire to some beef and get this place smelling good!!!!

Braised Short Ribs on Egg Noodles:

Season Ribs and brown on all sides in your trusty LeCreusset.

shhhh...the babies are giving up their souls!!

Remove and rest, soften your root veg.
I am feeling dizzy.

What, again with the goddamn vegetables?!

Let’s kick things up, as they say, and see what kind of seasoning we have in the ol cupboard, hmm?

...and you were expecting who in the cupboard? Manny Ramirez bobblehead?

Touch of worcestershire,deglaze with a solid red, bring the meat back to the party…..

Alright, everyone back in the pool!

And let’s bring in some more taste: Paprika, Cumin, crushed Pringles.
Before you ask: No, don't try this with a Pogues cd.

Things are bubbling now.
Time for a bay leaf….

…….and what the hell, a Circle Jerks guitar pick for a lil extra zing!

I just want some Skank---well, that and some earthy flavors, hmmmm?

Are you hot? Is it hot in here?

I’m hot.

Ya know what? Hmm? Out of the Veal stock and forgot to get any beef broth at the friggin store.

Oh well. Really, any brown liquid will do in a pinch, so let’s see what we have on hand…..

Be creative: Here I am trying to cut open a bottle of Chivas using the dull side of a knife.

On the plus side, they now have a Wii system set up in the waiting room of Los Alamitos Hospital Emergency room!

Ah, now it’s time to cover things up, set in the oven, and let the magic of slow cooking do the rest. You did preheat to 350, didn’t ya?

I know a lot of cooks like to leave their pizza stones in the oven, to help dissipate cold spots and all that.

Me? I go with the BYO box set…..

Heh...that'll teach ya for leaving us out of your goddamn movie!

And now? Nothing to do but wait for the payoff.

Nice evening still, so might as well go fo a lil stroll down Main St, shall we?

Uh Oh....I know where this is headin....

Later that evening:
Ah geez...and the fuckin OC Register, for God Sake! all our Repubilcan friends are gonna know!

I’ll tell you what the bad part is. It’s not just that you stayed out all night, and woke up on a greenbelt parkbench wearing a lobster bib.

Or even though the Ribs cooked through all the thickened liquid and couldn’t be revived even with more stock and fresh veg….


No, it’s that poor Lucy had to suffer through the night, smelling that beef simmer and the bones roast, the golden marrow finally coaxed out of its shell, butter-like gold.
She had to smell it all night, the poor dear!

Oh, the look I got when I walked in the door….

You are an ass.

Fuckin dogs.

Well, nothing that an early lunch stroll with the dog won’t fix, and guess what?

The special at Walt’s today–Short ribs on a carmelized onion marmelade.

Mmmm...did I tell you it would be worth the time?

Join us next week for Japanese style Teppan cooking ……should be fun!!

The CH3 Year in Review: 2009

Well, that damn Christmas tree is finally out of the house and sits yellowing on the curb, a dehydrated monument to the excess of holidays just past.

The eggnog curdles in the fridge, and if I never again hear Wham!’s Last Christmas played over the CVS Pharmacy PA system, I will count myself a lucky man.

Please. Kill. Me.

And for this, the 50th entry of the Channel 3 Blog, join us as we recap the year that was: 2009 through the bleary eyeballs of yer ol pals in CH3!

The year began as it often does, a trip to Vegas for BYO’s annual Punk Rock Bowling Tournament. We finished a dismal 162 out of 163 in our bracket, though we claim shenanigans as Alf was absent most of his turns. Seems he was trying to ride the animatronic bear in the Laser Bar woods, the scamp!

Just a little pep talk after anthony's second gutter ball....

Late January found us up in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest with our pals in DOA, a couple shows in Seattle and Portland.
The rains were merciful, the Pho sublime, and we learned that PDX International is not a half bad place to watch a Superbowl game.

Kimm has a case of the Seattle Surprise! El Corazon Jan 30

Half time with Springsteen? meh. Bring back the kids from Up with People, that’s what we say!!

Now these fuckers know how to rock the crowd!

February, cruel bitch of a month that it is, does not disappoint with its gray montony. Things are broken up by the first Alex’s gig of the year and the NOFX party…..

Feb 4 NOFX party @ Fonda Theatre, Hollywood

Wrappin up February at Alex's...

The late winter lull was strangely quiet. Hmmm… don’t have much to report on the band front, but perhaps you might enjoy this video of a cat coughing up a hairball: Enjoy!

We welcomed the Vernal Equinox in proper fashion, a trip out to Rosemead!
This post, Spikes in Rosemead was the first in our popular Our Last Gig series, and made an International Media Star of our man Paulie.

...this is what he does in front of the mirror at home. All day long.

A couple warmups for the Summer, and then onto June with a couple shows with the Circle Jerks, at the San Diego and Anaheim House of Blues….Houses of Blue? Blue Horses? —eh, you know…those big corporate clubs where a Vodka Soda costs 12 bucks!

The sounds, the energy...the smell.  Ya had to be there....
Things warm up in the pit....Summer's comin!

The year half over now, and got the devastating news. Old chum Fat Paul passed on. The man will be missed!

July wanes and we are off to Europe.

After a quick Transatlantic flight, and a brief bout of jetlag induced delirium, we are rolling across the Continent.
If you’d care, you can always peruse the 2009 European Diary for the full story.

But trust me, the trip can be summarized nicely by the following images:



Yet more sausage...
Yet more sausage...

Sausage with curry sauce....because we're fuckin nutty that way!!!
Sausage with curry sauce....because we're fuckin nutty that way!!!

We finally lured Ant and Alf back to the States in time for the last shows of the Warped Tour . We set out on this journey with every intention of losing those pesky extra 6 kilos of wurst weight we picked up in Europe, but it was not meant to be!

Gotta go on a diet after this!
Christ! Gotta go on a diet after this!

What a wonderful way to wrap up the Summer with friends and pretend the bitter realities of the darkening sky weren’t just over the horizon!

This is either before the set, or Anthony has just given up!

Alf's view of the wonder he's a little off, hmmm?

One fine Fall day, I think it was late October, the four of us were lying in an open meadow, the patient Earth cooling beneath our backs. Idly chatting, we each picked a cloud and interpreted its shape.

A Pony.
Amputee riding a hermaphroditic elephant.
An Advair inhaler.

By God, I love being in a band!

...and that one looks like the funny smelling Uncle that used to sleep over in Mom's room!

Where were we?
Summer’s over, and the year speeds up toward its own demise. A quick jaunt out to Vegas:

vegas 001
What a world, when yer 3rd billed under Bingo!

And then onto the Holiday season and wrapping things up in proper fashion: Back to Alex’s Bar!

Hijinks, I tells ya...Hijinks!!

The celebrations over now, we all seem relieved that 2009 is over. With every hope that the future holds fluffier towels and colder beer, it’s onto 2010~~!

You know it's gotta be true if it's written on baked goods!

You Lie!

Well, the fellas at CH3 Mission Control were all in a tizzy when they called me on the landline. Seems a tremendous overnight spike in Channel 3 Itunes activity crashed the entire Apple system, caused by ravenous purchases of the old track You Lie!

...we can't explain it, Sir!  Also, we've been selling an unusual amount of Got A Gun XXL tees in Chino Hills!!
...we can't explain it, Sir! Also, we've been selling an unusual amount of Got A Gun XXL tees in Chino Hills!!

Apparently, the overnight downloads of that track funneled enough monies into Posh Boy’s pockets that he is currently in the market for a new villa in Bordeaux.

Wha? Well, a quick log onto the Huffington Post confirmed our suspicions…that scamp Joe Wilson was up to his old tricks!
Apparently, he tried to get a pit going last night during the Healthcare Reform speech by yelling You Lie!!, and then jumping off the Congressional bannister, knocking a beer out of the hand of Representative David Price (D – NC, 4th District).

I just want some Skank! I just want some Skank!
I just want some Skank! I just want some Skank!

Heh–fuckin Joe! We remember when he used to hang out with his crew at the Galaxy Theatre and yell shit at us from the pit…but when ya called him out on it?
Some things never change!
Who the fuck said that, huh?!    Yeh, that's what I thought.....
Who the fuck said that, huh?! Yeh, that's what I thought.....

And now, like clockwork, comes the official apology from Wilson’s office:
“This evening I let my emotions get the best of me when listening to the President’s remarks regarding the coverage of illegal immigrants in the health care bill. While I disagree with the President’s statement, my comments were inappropriate and regrettable. I extend sincere apologies to the President for this lack of civility.”

Oh brother. Apparently even the Republicans are condemning the outbust now too.

I know nothing!
I know nothing!

Yeh, that’s because the Rebuplicans were salivating over Obama’s lowest approval ratings in months due to the Heathcare issues, and then Wilson decides to get all drunk before the gig and ruin it for everyone!!

Whatever. At least it got a little TMZ-style attention to the issue at hand.

And while we applaud Obama’s tackling of the Healthcare issues, just don’t get us started!
It’s well known that CH3 has been championing total Health Service overhaul since the early 80’s, when we proposed going back to a basic Commodities-based valuation of the Nation’s Healthcare.

In other words, a case of Syphyllis is gonna cost ya a basket of eggs, breast enlargement one veal calf..etc!!

Yes, one vasectomy and and Coronary Artery Bypass Graft for the goat, if you please!
Yes, we have vasectomy and and Coronary Artery Bypass Graft, if you please!

Listen, if Joe wanted to man up and take on the Prez, you don’t just namecheck your favorite CH3 song and then go hide by the chicks’ bathrooms! You gotta go for the stage dive like those nutty punkers over in South Korean Paliament, am I right?

Up the Punx!
Up the Punx!

Then they really get things boiling in the pit!!

Gaaa!  I lost my shoe!!
Gaaa! I lost my shoe!!

Click the shiny arrow to hear You Lie by CH3!!

Attn: All Employees Re:Warped Tour

Companywide memo to:
All personnel at the CH3 home office.

Hello staff! Before we begin today’s briefing, a quick attaboy to Phil in accounting, who recently celebrated his 45th year with the organization–way to go Phil. Also, Shelia in HR gave birth to a beautiful 8 pound boy last Wednesday.

Way to go, guys!  Now get back to your fuckin cubicles!!
Way to go, guys! Now get back to your fuckin cubicles!!

As you all know, our next sales campaign will be the Warped Tour, also known as The Van’s Warped Tour, Presented by Monster Energy Drinks and Remax Real Estate Services. We will be sending out the CH3 road team on these final dates.

They look so fresh and shiny here!
They look so fresh and shiny here!

Due to the complaints regarding the travel arrangements for the recent European campaign, we have decided to upgrade to a larger vehicle for this week. The vehicle will be outfitted accordingly for the 5 day journey.

Ant kickin the tires
Ant kickin the tires

The 2009 Sprinter van seats 12, has full air conditioning and internet access, and has both Xbox and DVD player. The following motion picture titles will not be allowed in the vehicle: Any recent Hollywood title containing the words Star, Galactica, Destination, Lord, or Rings. Also, please do not (Alf) bring along any Porn with the words Bone, Gusta or Chupa in the title.

At this time, approved titles for viewing during transport:
Elvis ’68 Comeback Special; Elvis ’68 Comeback Special Limited Edition; Raging Bull.

perfectly ok for the ride...
perfectly ok for the ride...

Travel Day is Wednesday, Aug 20. The satelllite facility will be leaving the Long Beach office approximately 2pm.

Update: Due to dental complications, Ricardo Martinez will not be going on this journey. Filling in as company liason will be Erik “T Bone” Petersson. Do not-repeat-DO NOT reply to this memo with your complaints. This personnel change has already been approved and Erik has promised to keep his shirt buttoned for the majority of the work day.

Day one people--let's pace ourselves!!
Day one people--let's pace ourselves!!

Travel time will be approximately 5 hours to the Mountainview area. Rooms have been reserved at the Pacific Inn.

Hey--there's a fuckin jacuzzi in here!  Come join me Tbone!!
Hey--there's a fuckin jacuzzi in here! Who wants to soak with Tbone?!

Dinner vouchers are good for the local Chevy’s restaurant. Once again: Do not attempt to exchange the vouchers for cannisters of nitrous oxide or sexual favors.

A prayer before meal....
A prayer before meal....

We will be giving away a beautiful set of Mont Blanc pens to any personnel that can guess the number of pork rinds in the jug. Please submit your guess to the box in the east cafeteria, only one guess per day please.

I'd say we're good to go, eh?
I'd say we're good to go, eh?

Okay team, that’s it for the day. We will be keeping everyone up to date on the daily statistics of the tour, please monitor your workstations often. As always, have a CH3 day!

London calling…..collect!

Alright then, got off the flight and in pretty good shape…..didn’t get a wink of sleep with all of the kneecap abuse ….. but discreetly farted the last stubborn remnants of Walt’s Wharf Black Bean soup into the face of seat 35C on the way off the plane..! mmm…revenge!

Ok then, London. I am here a day before the rhythm section. Kimm and I were thinking of just picking up a couple guys over on this side of the pond, but turns out there’s no Home Depot here yet—Hey 0!!!!

Ok Niños, we neeed one drummer, a bassista...and anyone good with kitchen tiles?
Ok Niños, we neeed one drummer, a bassista...and anyone good with kitchen tiles?

The sad state of the economy means Pricelined rooms at Hyde Park Hilton for 50 bucks!! Got checked in and looked longingly at the bed, but the job on day one is to stay awake til midnight and get the ol’ body clock back on track….

Ahhh...but miles to go before we sleep, eh?!
Ahhh...but miles to go before we sleep, eh?!

Well, the job is also to stay away from the Schwarmas they sell outside of every proper pub in this nutty town! Far too early on the week to start losing precious bodily fluids through *ahem* excessive potty breaks!

The key is to keep moving, kid! Quick tube ride, Central line to the Northern, Picadilly then hit the streets to Covent Garden and a quick Extra Cold Guiness at Punch & Judy’s—yeah, I know it’s touristy, so kill me! I hang out at Downtown Disney every Thursday night too, pretending I’m a exchange student from Wisconsin!

mmmm...meat pies and street performers!
mmmm...meat pies and street performers!

Alright, keep it moving, I’m feeling the effects of Mother Earth’s gravity pulling me down! Back into the tube and pop up a short time later in Camden Twn, and into our beloved World’s End to get the wits back….

It's the end of the world and I'm loving it!!
It's the end of the world and I'm loving it!!

Proper nutrition at the World's End and all is right with this crazy blue rock, baby!
Proper nutrition at the World's End and all is right with this crazy blue rock, baby!

Jesus…don’t know if I’m gonna make it! The body just can’t weather the effects of Time and travel like the old days, and that bed and a nice cup of tea is calling louder than last call at Alex’s Bar on a Friday night!!

Keep moving, that’s my motto, which I’m apparently saying aloud to myself at this point. Also, no Schwarmas, no schwarmas, though they are waving the pungent meat bombs under my nose at every stall!!

Hey you!  Come over here and eat some of this meat that's been rotating in the window for a week!!
Hey you! Come over here and eat some of this meat that's been rotating in the window for a week!!

Barstool vespas on Camden matter where I go, can't escape the Mods!
Barstool vespas on Camden matter where I go, can't escape the Mods!

A few more at Hawley Arms, and the jet lag has now morphed into a really nice Dementia…I was later found down by the water talking to a group of bewildered ducks…..

You birds never give pay back anythingdammnit!  I deserve better treatment..Answer me!!!
You birds never give pay back anything dammnit! I deserve better treatment..Answer me!!!

It’s midnight now, and after a fevered tube ride back to Queensway station I finally stumbled my way back up to room 520. It was only then I realized what I was gripping in my trembling hand…Gaaa! Schwarma!!!

Mixed meat, heavy on the sauce, side of Immodium please!!
Mixed meat, heavy on the sauce, side of Immodium please!!

Ah London…same as it ever was. Off to pick up the fellas at Heathrow and onto Dusseldorf now..Cheers!