Permanent Historical Record: 2/3/08
When Being A Musician Carried Political Clout...
There was a time when, if you were a political leader and also a musician, it meant instant bad-assification, the equivalent of banging Jessica Alba AND snorting coke off of Lindsay Lohan's ass while you were signing the secret orders to bomb the fuck out of Turdistan. Not only were you the decider but also you were hip enough to have some soul. You signed that order while listening to Hell's Bells and flashing the devil's horns. Shit, JFK only associated with musicians and he was too cool a president to be allowed to live. Imagine if Madonna had sung "Happy Birthday" to Bill Clinton? Would there have been any doubt that he not only was the leader of the free world, but also that instead of being nearly impeached for a blow job by an intern, his interns should have expressly printed on their resumes their oral skills as a requisite for the job? Actually instead of interns, he should have had fluffers ready at every stop, even one sitting hidden in the podium as he spoke to the press. Today, the Marilyn Monroe thing of JFK's time would be the equivalent of Angelina Jolie making eyes at Bush at a correspondent's dinner. DNA doesn't care what you think of Bush, if it was clear that tang like Angelina was strutting for George, even Hillary would cut him some slack.
However, despot, tyrant, or leader of the free world, it's not enough to simply play an instrument. You have to play the right one. Would we consider Nero the crazy motherfucker we do if he had been known for playing piccolo? While Rome burned, he screeched away on that fiddle made of gold, y'know, the one Charlie Daniel's sang about. Hardcore. Ghengis Khan played drums made out of the skins of his enemies. You don't think that shit wouldn't cause you to re-evaluate your diplomatic strategy as his hordes approached your borders? Even if that weren't true (DNA can't say, he made it up just a second ago) it still proves DNA's point: For a moment when you thought what DNA said was accurate, everything you already knew about Ghengis Khan being a bad motherfucker was amped up to 11. There is a synergy between the life and death power controlled by political leaders and the creative power controlled by musicians. At least there used to be.
Vince, an old friend of DNA, pointed out to him the following in a recent email:
Ok DNA,
I was watching CNN or MSNBC last week when all our Presidential Candidates were down in South Carolina whoring for votes.
So how does this relate to DNA... Well Mike Huckabee, is up on stage with a young local band ripping out Lynyrd Skynrd, Stevie Ray Vaughn among others.. and I thought to my self, "what does DNA think about this". Why does Huck feel the need to show us that, does it make him more electable..
It occured to me that we already elected a Jazz playing saxaphonist, who went on to be a blow job getting impeached saxaphonist..
Is playing the bass inherently cooler than the sax, what does that say about Huckabee as a possible President. Is it relevant that all the tunes he played that day, at least the ones I heard, were by dead guys who fell out of the sky.
Anyway kind of chuckled to myself and thought I'm sure DNA has an opinion on this..
Maybe not.. Maybe so.
Well, Vince,
Clinton and Huckabee are both products of their times, their state, and unfortunately, are the heralds of the death of the poet-king, the Athenian ideal, the death of the concept of the political leader made more awesome because he was a musician. Now it's a calling card for commonality. "Ah'm laik yew, I laiked Chubby Checker when Ah wuz uh kid, too. Saxuhfone wuz cool, and the chicks digged it." It's a fact that playing an instrument in Arkansas takes the place of your GED, and qualifies you to teach in Arkansas' public school system, so they have a different social pressure to play something, anything, down there. Arkansans have a higher than average per capita rate of people opting to be professional musicians. Everybody there knows that you are 5 times more likely to get lucky with someone who is not a family member at a Methodist church lock-in if you are the guitar-playing youth music minister. Paid and laid, in Jesus' name, Hey man! You might be thinking that DNA is going on an express elevator ride to hell for that kind of talk, and DNA would agree, if every word of the previous little lock-in vignette was not the straight dope.
Like the preacher's daughter DNA knew named "Angel." As virtuous as a stripper named "Chastity." Again, straight truth from the heartland. Anyway, since both Clinton and Huckabee are literate, and had to join the Skynyrd Militia if they were to keep Neil Young from touring in the South again, it's no surprise that they learned to play instruments. What is sad, is unlike previous maniacal despots whose musicianship accentuated their penchant for mass murder, these guys parleyed their potential into mass....appeal.
But, DNA knows why Vince asked his question. DNA is a bass player from way back, and bass players share in a fraternity that is not known among other musicians. It's fraternity in which membership depends on being not quite as bad-ass as the lead guitarist, not quite as charismatic as the lead singer, not quite as pretty as the keyboard player, and not quite as rhythmic as the drummer. In short, bass players tend to require a level of consistent professional failure that does not translate well into political office. At least Bill was gonna get laid playing the sax. Mike probably is the guy that said, "Sure, you guys can store your stuff at my house," and that's how he got in the band. This is actually true. When he formed a band in Arkansas, Capitol Offense, they practiced in the basement of the Governor's mansion.
Vince got me thinking about the position most guys who would call themselves "bass players" are in when they are 42. That wasn't very pleasant. And, DNA got to thinking about all the bass player jokes he has heard. And, about other famous political people who were musicians. So, without further ado, here is the internet research portion of this blog, filled with jokes, musically inclined politicians, and a final word or two. Some of the jokes were blatantly stolen from here. Some of the political facts were ripped off from here.
How do you confuse a bass player? Put one of his strings out of tune, but don't tell him which one.
What's the definition of a bass player? Halfway between a drummer and a musician.
How do you know the band is over? The bass player says, "Hey guys, I wrote a song I'd like us to try..."
What's the difference between a bass player and a large pizza? A large pizza can feed a family of four.
John Quincy Adams played the flute. Yes, he was totally gay. Thomas Jefferson played the violin, which normally is the antidote for jungle fever.
Ross Perot plays the accordian. DNA can't make this shit up. Nerd birth control, the accordian. Apparently, Ross hung the accordian straps from his ears.
A dad takes his son to bass guitar lessons. After the first lesson, dad asks the boy what he learned. His boy said, "I learned the first five notes on the "E" string." Dad took him to his lesson the next week. After the lesson, he asked his boy what he had learned. His boy said, "I learned the first five notes on the "A" string." His dad went to take him to his third lesson the next week, but his boy said, "Sorry dad, I can't make it." His dad asked, "Why?" and his boy said, "I've got a gig tonight."
Condoleeza Rice played the piano. She was a pianist. If you are a juvenile dork or retarded, you are laughing right now. Pianist.
Abraham motherfucking Lincoln played an AXE!
What do you call a bass player without a girlfriend? Homeless.
How do you make a bass player play quieter? Put sheet music in front of him.
How can you tell if a bass player is at your door? He knocks out of time and comes in too early.
Yeah those jokes are all pretty old and tired, but so are most bass players, like Mike Huckabee, our bass playing presidential candidate. DNA went to his band's myspace page. It's the only myspace band page DNA has been to which does not feature music from the band. DNA guesses that Huckabee is like the kid who bought Rock Band for his PS3 so he could have some friends. "I'll be the bass player," he says, not knowing exactly what the bass player does, but ensuring that those three other cool kids will not construct some reason to be elsewhere.
On the other hand, DNA kind of respects Huckabee for playing bass. He sure as hell ain't playing it because its cool. He must really love it. In fact, it's got to be a power trip all its own to be the Governor of a state and also be a bass player in a band full of politically appointed guys who work for you, guys whose future you hold in your hands. Instead of the guitarist ignoring the suggestion of the bass player to turn down, the guitarist would say, "Yeah, good idea, Huck." Huck says, "Maybe we could play some more Skynyrd?" and all the guys say, "that's just what we were thinking!" Maybe there's a bit of Ghengis in Huckabee after all.
DNA would be in a band called Ghengis Huckabee in a heartbeat.
Permanent Historical Record: 2/6/08
Another Bass Joke...
Most of the bass jokes DNA reported above were old, and have been around in one form or another for some time. Here's one of his own DNA thought of today:
Definition of a bass player: The third or fourth best guitarist in the band.
Let's see, more bass jokes: How about
Billy Sheehan? Duff McKagan? Kip Winger?
Those were cheap shots. DNA is really sorry----that anybody took pictures of them. DNA thinks that either they were posing for Tiger Beat or Cream. However, DNA chose each one of these guys because they all have played some bass that DNA would rather not admit to liking. Billy Sheehan is a gifted bass player. Kip Winger was way more talented than his rock and roll band would let him be, and "She's Only 17" is exactly why America is fucked up sexually. A 20 something year old guy talking about fucking your 17 year old daughter, and everybody is cool with it. That's the power of rock. Finally, Duff McKagan. He was in two cool bands---Velvet Revolver and The Cult (for a little while). Oh, and he was in Guns and Roses---a band in which he fit the punchline to DNA's joke about being the third best guitarist. Also DNA chose these guys because, it never fails, when a bass player tries to look cool, they look queer, stoned, or like a stalker. They don't grow hair well, and tend to either handle what little spotlight they get poorly, or fade away and write new age music.
Here, I'll prove it:
Bass players are sad.
Permanent Historical Record: 2/14/08
It's Valentine's Day, so why don't you shut up, m'kay?
This week has been weird for DNA. First, he actually likes his statistics class. Second, he so thoroughly enjoyed geeking out playing D&D he is copying ALL of the old notes from years ago into a readable format (you have no idea how many pages it will be---maybe hundreds). Third, a horrible ice storm has hit the area and until now, that is, right now, DNA and family has been without power, heat, lights, internet, you know, the essentials. Removing power, when it is cold, when it really is a necessity, makes you realize how contrived your world really is, and how dependent we have become on amenities like continuous electricity. But also, it makes you realize, that if you had to, you could, and if you knew you weren't going to have it, you would, readjust your life accordingly.
On Monday night, about 11 pm, after the house had been without power for several hours, and the temperature was noticeably cool, we began to hear it: unearthly cracks echoing through constant click of sleet and ice. Trees began to break, snapping under the weight of about an inch of collected ice on all of the branches. Here's a picture:
It's not a picture of our ice storm, or our town, but it is a picture of AN ice storm. DNA just searched for the first "ice storm" picture that wasn't a huge f'ing jpg, so you would get the idea. It was pretty much like this, even with coyotes, no bullshit.
There's something about the primeval forces at work, the grinding of our artificial system to control our environment to a stop, which brings out, or more correctly, allows for the re-emergence of, creatures that usually operate at the periphery. Then you see it, like we did: A grizzled coyote, with ice hanging in clumps from its fur, eyes gleaming at you, clearly thinking, "Now this is more like it. You aren't so much in control now, are you? Kind of like how it was about 10,000 years ago, when you huddled at the base of a mile high glacier, and we took your babies at will?"
Or, maybe it was looking for some tasty trash to root through.
Anyway, it was surreal, like a slow-motion tornado, as tree after tree snapped in a cadence like the cracking bones of osteoporotic octogenarians performing Swan Lake.
Let that sink in for a second: Old people writhing on the floor of the nursing home, screaming, "Help me, Jesus, Lord, help me!" as they crumpled to the ground after flailing and failing to keep their balance as an orderly spun them into pirouettes like a dozen antique plates on sticks, and a stunned Activities Director, later, in front of the board of trustees, says, "I honestly thought it would be good for them."
After power was out for two days, it didn't seem quite so fun as that anymore. We were able to pack up the kids and the dog, and the practically frozen hermit crab (fuck the cats---they had to stay) and went to a hotel.
We came back tonight, after we heard and saw that the power was restored. We picked up right where we left off watching a movie we had rented, and along about one hour into it, after we joked about how the movie was cursed, and it was the movie which caused the power outage (the movie was cursed--it was "The Gameplan," which starred the Rock---what was that? Oh, that was the sound of your opinion of DNA's taste hitting the floor like an open container of chocolate pudding? Sue me, the kids liked it!)the power went off again. "Oh great!" we all said. DNA said, "I knew this would happen," accusatorily to his wife. "Do we still have those hotel rooms?" She said, "No, I already told them we weren't staying there tonight." "But didn't we already pay for them?" (we had to, to hold them for tonight---we had the option of getting our money back as long as we called before noon---but, guess what, we had no power at noon, so we had to buy the rooms---but then our power came back on, and we would rather stay at home--the hotel wasn't that nice) "Yes, but I gave the keys back." "Well, fuck, that ain't cool. I knew this was going to happen." Here's a tip from ol' DNA: You want to piss your wife off faster than anything? Imply by the tone of your voice that things completely beyond her control are her fault, and not only that, that her bad decisions means that we're even more completely fucked. Then, all the kids started in: "I can't stand another cold night!" "You mean we can't go back to the hotel?" "Mom, why didn't you hold the room?" "I feel cold!" If lasers could have shot from her eyes, there would be holes through my head and my dick. After some frantic moments finding our candles again, she called the hotel, only to be told that despite our paying for the rooms, they were already booked solid, because we had told them earlier today that we would not be needing them. DNA yelled at his wife, "Oh, that's perfect. They can't do that. We paid for those rooms!" Here's another tip: Yell at your wife and make her feel like somebody else's corporate bullshit decision was her fault.
Then, the power came back on. In less than two minutes, we had become like the coyote. Wolfish in nature, backbiting, waiting in the cold for civilation to fail. She said, "I am not very happy with you right now," meaning DNA. DNA said, "Y'know, it's not like I'm the only one who blames someone when shit goes wrong," and then our son, Spazz, jr. said, "Yeah Mom, you're like the pot calling the kettle black." Final tip for all you dads out there: It just isn't a good idea to be wrong, and then make your wrong look better by throwing in your wife's face the fact that she has done exactly what you just did. It didn't help that Spazz jr. was cheering from the peanut gallery.
Like most men, DNA is generally slow on the uptake, and only then realized that he basically said that his wife caused the power outage, our problem with the hotel, and it was her fault that our kids would freeze. So DNA said as sweetly as he could, "She can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and never never ever let me forget I'm a man." He even did a little dance as he sang, knowing that if acted like enough of a dork, she wouldn't stay mad. DNA said, "Hey, baby, you know it's Valentine's Day?" She said, "Why don't you just shut up, m'kay?" But she said it in the sweetest way.
Permanent Historical Record: 2/20/08
Another Sign Of The Apocalypse...DNA Plays Again!!!
Next week, DNA has to go to Chicago for a week for conventions, presentations, speaking engagements, etc., and as usual, when he does these things, he always looks up Mr. Kamikaze so DNA can commiserate with him about the good old days.
This time, when DNA called, Mr. Kamikaze said that BV, the honorary fourth member of the DNA Vibrators (you didn't know there was an honorary fourth member---tsk, tsk. And you call yourself a fan). Well, BV, of the Nightsoil Coolies, of Monster Truck, and of many great bands, is getting a band together to play a show up in Chicago this coming Wednesday night. It's a special show, a to-play-you-have-to-be-invited kind of gig, and BV goes way back with the man who is putting it on. So, Mr. Kamikaze and BV wanted DNA to join them at Schuba's in Chicago on Belmont and Southport for a night of Streisand versus Violence. Yes, you heard it. Each of the bands that play will play a song by Babs and a song about violence, and we all will be better for it. So, if you were a fan of the original Nightsoil Coolies, or if you remember us from back when you were in college, or if you like Barbara Streisand or violence, please come out and enjoy the show. DNA guarantees it will rock. And when was the last time you got a guarantee of rocking on a Wednesday night that didn't cost you $50 bucks and a bad smell on your breath the next morning?
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