Such a Zero



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          I looked up the word “stupid” in the dictionary and found a picture of you.  You’re just another piece of driftwood floating along a sea of losers.  You’ve got nothing, such a zero.  Pathetic.  The word has such a harsh bite, but as they say, if the shoe fits.  I simply see you as sad.  Frequently people talk about “unrealized potential.”  They’re not talking about you.  I feel for your mother.  She’s too kind and protective of you to show her true feelings.  Instead, she cries at night in bed alone.

          I read your poor, inadequate screenplays and witness your constant failing attempts to break into Hollywood.  What can I say?  A bad joke!  Bottom line, you simply don’t have the talent.  Maybe you know this, maybe you don’t.  It doesn’t really matter.  You’ll drown either way.  I can’t stand the way you constantly ask me to read your mediocre work.  You always want my feedback.  What an annoyance.  I never knew friendship could be such a burden.

          Ya’ know how some people have mojo and some people don’t?  Guess which category you fall into.  It’s no secret they know you well at Kinko’s.  You’re on a name to name basis with many of the clerks.  They say hello when you arrive.  You reply back politely.  You get the “screenwriter’s discount,” still the charges build up rather quickly.  Ten cents here, ten cents there, again and again, wasted money!

Guess what happens when you send your screenplays out to the agencies.  I often wonder if you know where your scripts end up because, honestly, you seem ignorant to reality.  Check the trash can, the fireplace, the garbage heap at the city dump.  “We don’t accept unsolicited material.”  Don’t you know what that means?  Get a clue!  Even facing all this adversity you keep at it, you keep on keepin’ on.  Like Churchill said, “Never, never, never give up!”  But Churchill never met you.  He might have changed his tune.  Once in a while you, “take a meeting” or “do lunch.”  Your efforts are always meaningless and unproductive.  Deals are never closed because people don’t want to associate themselves with you.  You’re a thief of others’ time.  Wake up! 



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          You don’t even dress the part.  A loyal Top Ramen consumer, you sport second hand rags that disqualify you immediately, before you have the opportunity to utter word one.  You can’t hang with the heavies, this is the big time!  You’re strictly minor leagues, a sucker and a chump.  In this town, they do judge books by their covers and yours reads rather boring.  As soon as you show your face, doors slam.  People regret ever having taken your phone call.  You don’t have a warm glowing aura of success, that intangible amorphous quality that attracts.  Instead, you’re coated in mud, emitting the stench of a rabid skunk.

          You’re standing in front of a brick wall, slamming your head against it, one, two, three times, continuously nonstop.  Skin is broken, blood starts flowing, but somehow you still don’t get it.  You seem oblivious to the pain even after you’ve cracked your skull and gray brain matter begins to leak out.  Everyone sees it but you, but nobody wants to tell you for fear of hurting your feelings.   Look at you!  No connections, you forever remain the outsider, desperate for a break, always denied access to the club.  You wonder why, you look for a reason.  Sometimes I think you’re blind.

          You probably never heard the one about Stevie Nicks’ assistant.  Back in the day, Stevie snorted so much coke she fucked up and mangled the inside of her nose until she couldn’t snort any more.  What to do?  I mean, talk about a serious predicament!  So, how did Stevie solve her dilemma?  She had her assistant blow the powder up her ass with a straw.  When I think of Stevie Nicks’ assistant, I think of you. 

Andy Behrman’s “ELECTROBOY” Documents Bipolar Madness

Originally published in 2002, Electroboy documents Andy Behrman’s downward spiral into a bipolar psychosis.  Behrman was born in January 1962, not far from New York City.  Being bipolar myself, I identified closely with his descriptions of various horrible depressions, ecstatic manias, obsessive compulsive and suicidal thinking. 

Behrman attended Wesleyan University and upon graduation went to live in NYC, hoping to start an independent film company.  When that opportunity failed, he went to work for Georgio Armani.  Armani was celebrating his first American flagship store in the heart of Manhattan.  In a world of chaos Andy played a key role in helping to ensure the store opened on time.  He served as a jack of all trades assisting VIPs from around the world or sometimes just going out to pick up lunch.



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However, the whole time Behrman was blitzed out of his mind with delusional thoughts dominating his brain.  The bipolar disease had taken over his thought process.  Soon he became a fully nude male performer at a homosexual dive, eventually lapsing into prostitution, becoming a whore himself.  Behrman welcomed every opportunity to do drugs.  Hey, wanna smoke some coke?  Great, bring it on!

PR was always Behrman’s first love, in one form or another, schmoozing at parties and art openings, creating street buzz out of thin air. One day he was scheduled to interview the non-artist Mark Kostabi, notorious for having other people paint his paintings for him, adding nothing more than merely his signature.  Behrman knew Kostabi was the flavor of the month “it” artist and wound up staying on to work in the bizarre “Kostabi World” which put him smack in the middle of the big money international art scene.

Except Behrman got a little too greedy.  He and a co-worker started forging fake Kostabis to be sold in Japan under the radar so nobody would notice.  Behrman loved taking flights to Berlin, flying by the seat of his pants, with no thought of any consequences.  Well, their plan failed and after a trial that made a scandal in the NYC papers, Behrman was sentenced to five months incarceration at a minimum security penitentiary.



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            All the while, Andy was juggling various shrinks, multiple mis-diagnosis, and tons of pills every day.  Eventually things got so terrible, the depression, fear and paranoia, it seemed there would be no end to the misery.  Finally, in a last ditch attempt to avoid suicide, Behrman turned to ECT (electroconvulsive therapy).  Behrman had nineteen(!) ECT sessions and now apparently lives mania free in the Upper West Side of Manhattan.

Learn more at www.electroboy.com

Kapuscinski’s “IMPERIUM” exposes Kolyma – Uncle Joe’s Arctic Gulag Death Camp

            Writer/renegade/death defying journalist, Ryszard Kapuscinski took the former Soviet Union by storm, transcribing his adventures in the smart, approachable, and definitely hardcore book, Imperium (1994).  That’s how RK refers to the former Soviet Union, as more than just a mere country, but as the colossal Imperium.  RK made it his mission to travel as far and wide across the Imperium as he could. 

            Starting Imperium are true stories about how RK, as a child, barely avoided being deported to the gulag from Pinsk, Poland, in 1939.  Fast forwarding to1958, RK relates adventures from his trip on the Trans-Siberian railway.  He made a point of personally experiencing almost every city/territory/province/village/mountain range/river/encampment in existence.  He writes of Argun, Unda, Chaychar, Chingan, Ilchuri, Dzagdy, Kilkok, Tungir, Bukachacha, Georgia, Azerbaijan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Kyrgystan, Uzbekistan, Chelyabinsk, Novosibirsk, and Krasnoyarsk, to name just a few.  Oh, and Moscow too.  Some people he encountered were Buryats, Kamchadals, Tunguses, Aynovs, Orochans, and Koryats.  Got the picture?



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            Kapusinski’s writing is a pleasure to read.  I never thought I’d be interested in a book on Russian history today (although I enjoyed Russian history in college), but RK, by relating his adventures through his grand, lyrical and brutal prose, has a way of making it fresh and new all over again.  He writes with incredible narrative power and evokes spectacularly the essence of Soviet life.  I definitely recommend RK’s Imperium.

            There is so much I could write about Imperium, but my favorite part was RK’s trek out to North Eastern Siberia (1989-1991) to see the former Kolyma death camp.  Stalin’s constant purges (1930s, 1940s) ensured Kolyma always remained full, even though many of the prisoners already at the camp were dying every day.  The lives of the prisoners were pure hell, reminiscent of those at Auschwitz, minus the gas chambers and ovens.

            The slave laborers had to deal with the following:  

            COLD – Clothed in wretched and thin rags it was common for prisoners to freeze to death in the minus thirty degree environment. 

            HUNGER – Often times, meals consisted of a crust of bread the entire day.

            HARD LABOR – Hungry and frozen, prisoners were constantly pushed past the point of endurance, digging ice, carting it off in wheelbarrows, crushing rocks and ice, and chopping down the forest.

            LACK OF SLEEP – Prisoners were afforded only a few bits at a time in icy barracks, on hard boards.

            FILTH – Prisoners were not allowed to wash and therefore were constantly covered in a dirt crust and sweat, stinking unbearably.

            VERMIN - Prisoners were constantly fighting off swarms of bedbugs, mosquitos, and terrible Siberian flies.

            GUARD SADISM – Prisoners were shouted at, punched in the face, beaten, kicked and even murdered for the most minor infractions.

            TERROR OF CRIMINALS – Violent criminal prisoners were constantly taking advantage of the rest of the prisoner population.

            FEELING OF INJUSTICE – The sheer psychological terror of simply being at Kolyma.

            HOMESICKNESS & FEAR – Scared prisoners felt that any day could be their last for any of the above reasons.  Sometimes sentences stretched to 25 years, absolutely crushing any hope of getting out alive. 

            All in all, over 3,000,000 died at Kolyma, so just sit down, shut up, and be thankful Uncle Joe isn’t your travel agent. 

J.K.’s Scrumpy is Hardcore Hard Cider

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“He that drinks his cyder alone, let him catch his horse alone” - Benjamin Franklin.

          Coming out of the Koan Family Almar Orchard in Michigan is delicious J.K.’s Scrumpy Hard Cider.  Scrumpy has been grown, pressed and fermented in Michigan since the 1860s.  Distributed in a twenty-two ounce bottle, the cider is the same traditional recipe that saved the family farm during the Great Depression.  Scrumpy is USDA organic and unfiltered, also gluten free with no sulfites added.  There can be slight variations in taste from batch to batch, just as nature makes no two apples alike.  However the ingredients still remain simple, only juice and yeast. 

          I found Scrumpy for sale at the restaurant supply store SURFAS in Culver City (8777 W. Washington Blvd.).  What’s not to love about Scrumpy?  The price, $8/bottle.  That’s a little pricey for me to become a regular nightly Scrumpy drinker, but make no mistake, this stuff is good, real good, gulping it cold, the sweet/bitter taste and then the slight kick at the end as it slides down your throat.  Scrumpy is 6% ALC/VOL.  I imagine it’s pretty easy to become addicted to Scrumpy, so be careful.  It’s no wonder the family orchards have been around for over 150 years.  With a product as fresh and thirst quenching as an ice cold Scrumpy, they couldn’t lose. 

Lots of interesting info can be found at http://www.organicscrumpy.com/

"Under and Alone” Rides Deep Into Heart of Savage Mongol Nation

We are Mongol Raiders / We’re raiders of the night / We’re dirty sons of bitches / We’d rather fuck and fight / HOOAH! / We castrate the sheriffs with a dirty piece of glass / And shove our rusty Buck knives up their fuckin’ ass / HOOAH! / Hidy Hidy Christ Almighty / Who the fuck are we? / Shit Fuck Cunt Suck / Mongols M.C. / HOOAH!

Such is the Mongols OMG (Outlaw Motorcycle Gang) fight song. 

“Under and Alone” is the story of William Queen, the undercover ATF agent who, over a two year period, infiltrated and became a “full patch” member of the Mongols under the alias “Billy St. John,” in the largest most widespread operation ever taken against an OMG.

Just like traditional Cosa Nostra, The Mongols have a hierarchy of national officers, a constitution, bylaws, and monthly dues.  Just like FBI Undercover Agent Joe Pistone infiltrated the Mafia under the alias “Donnie Brasco,” ATF officer William Queen lived life on the razor’s edge.  Assignments just don’t get any more dangerous than his operation.  The background check on Billy St. John was extremely extensive, as the Mongols have numerous lawyers, private dicks, and corrupt cops on their payroll.  In light of all that scrutiny, not only did Billy St. John succeed in becoming a full patch member of The Mongols Club (after rising through the ranks as a “hanger on” and then a “prospect”) they named Billy Secretary/Treasurer of the San Fernando Valley Chapter.  Billy was often in positions where he had to drug up or gang rape or he might be killed, it’s amazing how Billy responded to direct orders to do drugs by other members of the gang.



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The Mongols OMG is the most savage in the world.  They hang scalps from trees.  Although they might not boast as many fully patched members when compared to other OMGs, the Mongols have never lost a fight, not even to The Hells Angels.  Originally the Angels forbid other OMGs from wearing the “California lower rocker” on their leather jackets, but after a twenty year war, the Mongols defeated the Angels through a series of deadly brawls, thus earning themselves the right. 

The Mongols motto is, “Respect Few, Fear None.”  Their lifestyle includes rampant drug dealing, gang rape, gun running, assault and battery, larceny, extortion, blackmail, numerous bike thefts, prostitution and various other criminal conspiracies.  The Mongols took their name from Ghengis Khan’s band of savages, no surprise.  Welcome to the world of “one percenters.” 

 What’s a one percenter you ask?  A one percenter is a badass who you want to stay as far away from as possible.  The term “one percenter” was born out of the 1947 Hollister, CA, motorcycle riot that inspired the film, “The Wild One” starring Marlon Brando.  As a result, motorcycle riders and even the American Motorcycle Association denounced the bikers who were ruining the reputation of “99%” of average American riders.  The OMGs were delighted having been singled out and have worn a 1% patch on their jackets ever since.

               Once while I was working the door at a strip club, two Mongols walked in.  One was a big burly white guy with a moustache, the other a wrinkly older Latino, both covered in tattoos.  I didn’t even think to ask them for money.  I just told them, “Enjoy the show,” and let them stroll right in, no doubt the safe and prudent move.

 “Under and Alone” will introduce you to characters like Evel, Crazy Craig, Little Dave, Rocky, Rancid, Domingo, and the most savage of them all, the swastika tattooed Red Dog.  Red Dog once told Billy, “If you turn out to be a problem, I’ll cut your motherfuckin’ throat.”  The Mongols are always drunk and smashed on crank and coke.  My favorite story of an OMG is when a certain member’s “ol’ lady” showed disrespect, she was crucified with a hammer and nails to a tree and hours later when she was let down, she crafted a necklace of the nails and wore it with a sense of new pride and devotion.

When Mongols go on a run one hundred strong, they truly live beyond the law.  “Under and Alone” is a real page turner, if you can devote a little time, you might be able to read it over the weekend.  I won’t ruin the end for you, but trust me, it’s intense.  HOOAH!

"Rise Above" CD Produced by Rollins to Benefit WM3

Check out this list of vocalists performing Black Flag songs backed by the Rollins Band.

WM3 Finally Released!

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Big congrats to the WM3 on their new found freedom!  We all know their incarceration was a travesty based on the chaos resulting from a stupid “Satanic Panic.” Of course the WM3’s convictions were falsely based and blind to the facts, now hopefully the truth of their innocence will spread like wildfire.  For more info about the case check www.wm3.org.  And remember, everyone needs to own the WM3 fundraising CD that Rollins produced way back in 2002.  The appropriately named Rise Above contains a wide variety of all-star vocalists covering a multitude of Black Flag songs.  

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