RED FANG

Chicago, IL. 11/11/11 What the hell did happen in Chicago? It must have been a good one because I have no photos or memory of anything. Milwaukee, WI. 11/12/11 What in Paul’s bunion did John do to make the photo look like this? Does he have a “Gary Busey’s brain” setting on that thing or what? Wait! We were trying to figure out why our green room looked as if Keith Richards’ interior decorator got hold of some bad E: Maybe the entire club was cloaked in Timothy Leary’s ghost. On mushrooms. Sauget,IL. 11/13/11 I wish that we were a crappy art rock band so that I could just put up this photo I took of the power plant behind the club and write a poem about the bands dark brooding feelings. All the while twirling the end of my scarf with my fingerless glove clad, imported cigarette-clutching fingers. You would be able to feel the angst we harbored towards our parents for not getting us leather seats in the Lexus we got for high school graduation in every line. It would be deep! But on the ...

This was one hell of a weekend and there is a lot to cover to I’m going to keep it short and sweet in an attempt to not bore the living crap outta you. About three months ago our friend Luke from Kuma’s called up and wanted to know if the boys would be interested in playing the fifth annual Kuma’s birthday bash. A full day event of taking in all things rock, meat, and barley? Done. Flying to a show was a first for us and the rest of us were a little scared since John doesn’t do well on planes. The was a minute were we thought we might have to get all B.A. Baracus on his ass and slip him a roofie in his milk, but it turns out a couple cocktails in the airport bar set him straight. Carry picked us up at the airport and we rallied across town to catch up with J.J. who was so happy to see us he broke into Riverdance. Woke up the next morning, headed to Kuma’s and immediately dove head first into a burger. Look at that damn thing. You have to be part python just to get your mouth around it...

Woke up to yet another nine-hour drive. At least we had Iowa 80 to look forward to. Iowa 80 is the self-proclaimed “biggest truck stop in the world” and I’m not going to be the one that argues that fact. The place even has a station where you can get your own custom patches made. What? You want a car trailer with a 70’s Pinto predominately strutting its stuff on the front? Done: John and I were going to get patches made, we had the font, roses, and skulls all picked out. His was going to say “Something Awesome” and mine was going to say “Coyle’s Bitch” (you know, all little something for the pretty lady back home) but they were going to take a half hour. We didn’t have that much time to burn. Bummer. It was our first night meeting up with the Valient Thor boys and we were happier than a hippie hugging a tree about it. They tore the roof off the Double Door, as expected. After the show it was off to Cary’s house. Again. And once again he got a thrill out of pouring some crazy liquor do...

It’s weird that after only three times through Chicago is starting to feel like a home away from home. The boys and girls at Reggie’s took great care of us, and saw a lot of familiar faces. Thanks to everyone who came out. Okay enough of the ass kissin’, let’s get to the dirt. After the show we hijacked Cyrus out of the Saviours van and headed across town to meet up with our buddy Cary who you might remember from here . He was just shutting his bar down and we walked in just in time to watch him kick out a well-dressed man in his late fifties who had brought in his own Busch tall boy. I knew things were going to get weird from there. He poured enough tequila down our throats to kill a Chihuahua and we headed to a bar by his house to do some more damage. By the time we finally made back to Cary’s house the only thing I could think about was eating the greasiest food I could find. He pointed me in the direction of Loraine’s Dinner, which I could have sworn he said was one block to the ri...

If all the other dates on this tour shit the bed, there will always be Chicago. For starters we stayed with John's old friend Cary (I hope I spelled that right): Cary is one of the those guys who felt like a long time friend after knowing him for two minutes . Our first introduction was after I was heckled out of the driver's seat, due to my inability to parallel park. Cary, who had been watching the whole thing, started laughing at me before I even had a chance to shake his hand. I knew we were going to hit if off right away. Within five minutes of entering Cary's apartment Bryan got all Ben Kenobi on Sherman: As we loaded in the snow started falling, making the already thirteen degree weather even more awesome. Luckily the wind was blowing a mellow 400 m.p.h. If you were facing into the wind it was damn near impossible to see. At one point, trying to make it to the van, I walked into a parked car. Not my best moment. All that pales in comparison to the fact that, next mon...