Welfare Cheats to Treatment Bound

 

The official Welfare Cheats guitar

When i was a kid, me and some of my good friends started a band called Welfare Cheats. We couldn't really play at all (well, our guitar player could play), but the rest of us had no clue. Except we were punk fucking rock.

It was in response to reagan (back than of course, everything was). I was selling my hepatitis tainted  blood (until they caught on) for beer money and stealing student funds from our school to buy more beer. Some of this beer was used to put out the fire in my engine when my ('68 Plymouth Fury) car blew up driving home from a Minutemen / Husker Du show during a snowstorm.

Our music can best be described as a bass,  2 guitars, and a broken down drum set all tuned to different keys (because we didn't know how to tune them) and noise that would make Sonic Youth vomit.  Hey, Punk Fucking Rawk.

We never quite got any gigs, but our graffiti was in every club in NYC- from CBGB's to the Dive to the Peppermint Lounge to severe damage we did at Danceteria and an especially particularly heinous nite at Limelite- where we did things that I still can't admit in print to doing. We even got written up in various local rock newspapers.

I miss those guys- we did more with attitude and energy than any band ever- considering we never got any real gigs.

But, it did get some of us knee deep in females a few times and into alot of shows for free. It's too bad we were never able to get our shit together and do something - we certainly had some connections from our friends in local NYHC bands like ISM.

Maybe that's why I'm still chasing this stuff. I got a new band (Post Caterwaul Of Sound) in the works... and the direction of the band is definitely looking "old school"- (influences of the Ramones/Clash/Misfits/Dead Boys/Replacements/Johnny Thunders/Stooges, MC5) rather than the "shock hard rock" of my previous band. It will be nice to sing songs that I am not ashamed of the lyrics for.

But the day's still young... we'll see what happens.

 

The Product

Today is the holiest day of the year for the USA- Black Friday- the day where the orgy of capitalist consumption is consummated in a desperate attempt to lure the masses to BUY, BUY, BUY. Stores opened at midnite to hook the suckers into buying crap they dont need. 

I saw one moron has been camping with her tots since last week to be first on line to by a TV. If you have to live outside and involve your kids in this nonsense... perhaps you have other issues to address that are more important than a TV!

As The Nomad clan has bigger issues on what to spend our money on (for starters- food and our mortgage) struggling, the decision on what to buy is easy-  NOTHING!!!!!!

A Thanksgiving Prayer

Thanksgiving Prayer

For John Dillinger, In hope he is still alive

Thanks for the wild turkey and the Passenger Pigeons, destined to be shit out through wholesome American guts

thanks for a Continent to despoil and poison --

thanks for Indians to provide a modicum of challenge and danger --

thanks for vast herds of bison to kill and skin, leaving the carcass to rot --

thanks for bounties on wolves and coyotes --

thanks for the AMERICAN DREAM to vulgarize and falsify until the bare lies shine through --

thanks for the KKK, for nigger-killing lawmen feeling their notches, for decent church-going women with their mean, pinched, bitter, evil faces --

thanks for "Kill a Queer for Christ" stickers --

thanks for laboratory AIDS --

thanks for Prohibition and the War Against Drugs --

thanks for a country where nobody is allowed to mind his own business --

thanks for a nation of finks -- yes,

thanks for all the memories... all right, let's see your arms... you always were a headache and you always were a bore --

thanks for the last and greatest betrayal of the last and greatest of human dreams.

-----William S. Burroughs-----

Tolling for the outcast, burnin’ constantly at stake...

Motherfucker had it right in 1964- and nothing's changed.

Chimes Of Freedom

Far between sundown’s finish an’ midnight’s broken toll
We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing
As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds
Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing

Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight
Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight
An’ for each an’ ev’ry underdog soldier in the night
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing

In the city’s melted furnace, unexpectedly we watched
With faces hidden while the walls were tightening
As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowin’ rain
Dissolved into the bells of the lightning
Tolling for the rebel, tolling for the rake
Tolling for the luckless, the abandoned an’ forsaked
Tolling for the outcast, burnin’ constantly at stake
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing

Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail
The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder
That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze
Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder
Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind
Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind
An’ the unpawned painter behind beyond his rightful time
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing

Through the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales
For the disrobed faceless forms of no position
Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts
All down in taken-for-granted situations
Tolling for the deaf an’ blind, tolling for the mute
Tolling for the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute
For the misdemeanor outlaw, chased an’ cheated by pursuit
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing

Even though a cloud’s white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
An’ the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
An’ for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing

Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing

Zero Percenter

"If there has to be a bloodbath, then let's get it over with."
--Ronald Reagan (Governor of California), cited in the San Francisco Chronicle, early morning edition, May 15, 1969


"But when you talk about destruction, don't you know that you can count me out (in)"
--John Lennon

 "I don't want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member" 
 --Groucho Marx


I've been bouncing back and forth occaisionally into the Occupy Wall Street foray over the past couple of months... most recently the other day. OWS is certainly my ballywick. Afterall, I'm a New Yorker, been burned by the economy, and struggling to keep up with payments on my bills. The bereft middle class... once "middle" middle class and not plummeting towards the bottom. Plus, my punk rock dissident background certainly makes me exhibit 1-A for this movement.

Except... I don't feel part of it. I don't know if it's the drum circles, my age or just the daily hassle of trying to keep the Nomad's heads above the rising red tide. Christ, I wanna see the redistribution of wealth (especially if it means I can get some). And I'm all for hanging the bankers and fuckers that have helped make this "too big too fail" scam a reality. But from what I am seeing at OWS, I do know this... about 40% of the folks down there are legit. The other 60% are assholes. Yeah, assholes. The types that are co-opting this movement by just being violent troublemakers. Scenesters, hipsters and douchebags. They'd be protesting free beer, clean air or whatever else they could.

I fully understand why the NYPD mobilized and got rid of the tents and generators. You've pretty much got a bunch of people who decided to move-in to a privately owned park permanently with no motivation for any sort of hygiene or public responsibility. And they spend the day making it hard for their working brethren to get back and forth to their cubicle hells. What if they moved across the street from YOUR house or job. Add to this NO ONE taking ownership or control and a whole lot of combustible dynamics (not the least of which were gallons of kerosene and gasoline for generators). Plus inherent violence (yeah- for real) and you've got the makings of an incendiary holocaust down there. Anarchy is a wonderful concept- until someone loses an eye.

I know in a lot of cities the police and "authorities" have been completely out of control, but here in New York,  the City and the NYPD have shown remarkable restraint down at "Liberty Park". They are faced everyday with the lower elements deliberately provoking them into reactions. Mayor Bloomberg has been a great leader through this... showing maturity and consideration.

It's a shame that so many of the demonstrators fail to understand that (and refuse to emulate it).

Mistakes Were Made

Apropos of nothing persnaps, but the following toonage has been resonating a little close to home lately.

Some of the anger I have been feeling towards others has dissipated. My understanding of matters has calmed me down. Never forgive, never forget fer sure, but I'm trying to grow beyond the rancor.

Pulpy blood stained knuckles are cool when yer 18, when yer double that age... not so much.

Self awareness is not very fun.

Man, it's tough being a grown-up.

Whistlin' Past The Graveyard

I hit another birthday today. I've decided to take my age into my own hands and have deducted a few rings off the old tree trunk. I certainly feel a fuckload younger than my chronometer, so what the hell. Besides, anytime anyone guesses my age, they go about 10 years younger than I am. I figure this won't deter the grim reaper, but I've been playin' with the houses money since I was about 20 anyway.

A quick check finds me far in the red with regard to where my financial prospects were supposed to be. As my income has reduced by about 70% (thanks to the economy) over the past 2 years, the struggle to keep up the payments, etc is a neverending nightmare. Healthwise, I'm about as good as can be expected, given the lack of exercise I get lately. Lookswise- let's just move on. From the long haired moron of my youth to the shaved head misanthrope I've become. And I still have my music- the man can't take that away!


The important thing of course is family. After 20 plus years, Missus Nomad and I (the aughts version of Sid and Nancy/ Kurt and Courtney/ Keef and Anita) are still going semi strong- despite the usual speed bumps. Marriage ain't what I thought it would be, but we still love each other (at least I think we do). The kids are (thank the lord) healthy and good natured... and so far don't seem to be falling into the traps that so many stumble into (yours truly included).

I have been adament about not wanting any gifts from mi familia. I got everything I want already.

Woo Woo Woo (You Know It)

Nazz Jr is big time into Professional Wrestling (WWE for the most part). Being that he's 13, I am OK with that. What scares me is the amount of adults that take the shit seriously. Especially with regard to action figures. Nazz Jr shows me these websites that have fans putting thousands of dollars into collecting figures (and even doing movies with the figures).

Being a worldly kid, Nazz Jr has long known about the "scripted" nature (in other words...IT'S FAKE!!!) of wrestling and can laugh along with the storylines. He likes the guys that can both wrestle AND do promo's (ie talk) for the most part: CM Punk, Cody Rhodes (the new Dr. Doom version), Booker T and for nostalgia's sake, the ancient Rick Flair. He eschews the "conventional" ie John Cena and Alberto Del Rio (the latest manufactured "superstar".)

CM Punk (yeah- he's really into Punk and being straight edge) has been the most interesting character lately. He's been doing a shtick with a focus on calling out the bullshit around him (they call it the "reality era"), but it's now becoming the conspiracy era, with corporate shenanigans getting alot of play; and after a couple of months in the spotlite, his star is fading again.

But the guy we both really dig is Zack Ryder. Aside from being from our hometown, he's a total underground goofball (his character is sorta vacant brained Long Island trash). He's also propelled himself into the spotlite by naming himself "Internet Champion". By judicious use of great videos, Ryder has propelled the WWE into the social media age and become the "peoples champion".


Every Monday nite we're watching RAW on the tube...Once again, it's spending time with your kids that's the best thing of all.