June 28th I had the pleasure of attending a concert here in town. Normally, I wouldn't attend such foolishness, as it's just not in my things-to-do list anymore, but my good friend Jim Heiderscheit suggested I check it out as it would be a pretty kickass show. If you know me at all, you'll know I was skeptical, as usual. I was wrong, also as usual. He was right.
I had my concert-going days back in the 1980s, and they were good. Damn good. My first concert...Twisted Sister. That was 1986. This is 2011. Most of the bands I listen to are either retired, broken up beyond repair, or dead. It's a fact of life. Bands come and bands go. Sad, but true. Sure, there are still a few of them around, but most of them have changed so much over the years that I just don't get what I used to out of them (don't EVEN get me started about Metallica).
Tuesday night was different. It wasn't thousands of people screaming their heads off, getting drunk and passing the doobies around in the stands, stopping just short of a drunken riot. This was a smaller venue, and it fit the bands that played there very well, in my opinion.
Yeah, it was loud. Really loud and my ears paid for it, I'm sure. It was hot and there was no air conditioning. But that was ok. It was rock music the way rock music is supposed to be played. Loud, gritty, sweaty, and IN YOUR FACE. I was right up on the stage with the rest of the guys there who probably weren't much older than my own children. They were jumping around, dancing, banging their head, and after a while, by God, so was I.
The three guys with guitars kicked ass...seriously. The vocals, the keyboard player, my buddy Jim on drums (he was tight, man...lemme tell you what)...these guys have their shit together. They covered "Just What I Needed" by The Cars. Ho. Lee. SHIT. I was blown away. Srsly blown away. You have NO idea.
I felt like I was 16 again...it was awesome. Just plain awesome.
You'll see a couple videos I shot of them playing below; the footage isn't theater quality, but who cares? It's rock and roll music...it's not supposed to be pretty. It's all what you make it.
Thanks for reading (and listening), all.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
Brats, Beers, and Keys
Over the years I have had many different 'careers'. I've been a paperboy, a bouncer for an 'adult entertainment' service, a burger flipper, part of a pit crew, a boot maker, and many, many others; some I won't mention here because I don't want to taint my well-polished image. I'm all about the people, you know.
One of the most interesting and just plain cool jobs I had was a promoter and organizer of autograph shows with professional athletes. This was something my business partner and I did on the side as we also had a retail store to run at the same time. We would bring in athletes to our city to sign autographs at a venue, and we had an awesome time doing it. Because the majority of the athletes we brought in were either current or retired Green Bay Packers (some Hall of Famers as well), we spent the majority of our time 'planning' at a local sports bar that was devoted to sports memorabilia, primarily...you guessed it...Green Bay Packer ephemera. My partner was also a legacy, in Animal House terms, because his grandfather was on a championship team back in the 1940s, so football was in his blood.
Our days were pretty simple for the most part...meet at the 'office' for lunch, which was 99 times out of a hundred a bowl of beer cheese soup, a couple brats, and a few beers (a few...yeah, right), followed by a few rounds of Golden Tee golf (which my golfing partner and I took first place in the first year there was a league in my city...we were pretty happy about that). Generally, it was a given that we would spend several hours 'planning' our work in the 'office', and we were usually happier when we were done than we were when we began.
My partner had this old beat-up Ford F-something with a 3-speed on the column; it wasn't pretty but it got us where we needed to go, and it actually ran pretty well given its condition. Still had the old aluminum keys before they started making them out of brass or whatever it is they make them out of nowadays. One day when we were ready to leave, my buddy went to the drivers' side of the truck which was nearest the curb, and I to the passenger side, which was on the street. Not just any old street, mind you. A two-lane, northbound street which is one of the top five busiest streets in town. There are speed limits posted, but people usually drive at least ten over, traffic permitting. My buddy opened his door with the key, and for reasons unknown to me and every other person on the planet except him, instead of reaching over and opening my door from the inside like anyone else would have done, he decides to toss the keys to me without telling me first (because apparently I was just supposed to know that was the plan), sliding them across the top of the cab, hoping I'll see them in time and catch them.
I didn't.
The keys went over my head, and landed about three feet away from me, in the lane of traffic. I started to step and bend over to pick them up, and something told me to look before I got to where I was going. I turned my head to the right, and HOLY CRAP there was a vehicle coming right at me, not even bothering to slow down any. Naturally, I jumped back against my buddy's truck, and I heard
<clink>
And then I did
O.O
It all happened so fast that I can barely remember what kind of vehicle it was. But what I DO remember...very vividly...is the sound car keys make when they're stuck in someone's front tire hitting the pavement repeatedly at 30 mph. All I could do was stand and stare with my mouth open and my eyes as big as quarters. Our keys were going down the road in someone's front tire and there wasn't a goddamn thing I could do about it. I stood and stared some more, and my buddy gets out and comes around to see what's going on. I pointed...and pointed some more. Then I picked my jaw up off the ground and started to tell him what happened. He told me to quit fuckin' around and give him the keys. I said "DUDE...someone ran them over. They're going north right now. I'm serious as a heart attack."
His jaw was then on the ground as well. We stood and stared at each other, mouths wide open, as if we were watching the Titanic sink to her watery grave. A few minutes later, we composed ourselves to walk down the street, he on one side and I on the other, to see if the keys had worked themselves out and were waiting to be found. They didn't, and they weren't. A half mile later we walked back to call a locksmith to come make us a new key.
Fast forward three days later.
We're in the 'office' doing some 'planning', enjoying our lunch (both solid and liquid) and this guy walks in and sits down about four stools away from us next to a friend of his. We didn't think anything of it, he was just another guy in 'planning' mode. A few minutes later, I hear the man's voice elevate, and he says, "You'll NEVER guess what happened to me three days ago. I got home from work and had a goddamn flat tire. Some asshole jammed a car key in my front tire...and those tires are only two months old!!"
I turn to my buddy with almost a crazed look on my face and and in a loud, semi-drunken whisper I said "DUDE!!!! LISTEN TO THAT GUY!!!" My buddy goes over and asks the man if he still had the key that was in his tire. The man says, "Yeah, I saved 'em just in case." My buddy starts telling the guy what had happened, offered to pay for the tire, and pretty soon the whole place was in bottle-induced hysterics and we called off 'work' early that day to celebrate the reunion of my buddy and his keys.
One of the most interesting and just plain cool jobs I had was a promoter and organizer of autograph shows with professional athletes. This was something my business partner and I did on the side as we also had a retail store to run at the same time. We would bring in athletes to our city to sign autographs at a venue, and we had an awesome time doing it. Because the majority of the athletes we brought in were either current or retired Green Bay Packers (some Hall of Famers as well), we spent the majority of our time 'planning' at a local sports bar that was devoted to sports memorabilia, primarily...you guessed it...Green Bay Packer ephemera. My partner was also a legacy, in Animal House terms, because his grandfather was on a championship team back in the 1940s, so football was in his blood.
Our days were pretty simple for the most part...meet at the 'office' for lunch, which was 99 times out of a hundred a bowl of beer cheese soup, a couple brats, and a few beers (a few...yeah, right), followed by a few rounds of Golden Tee golf (which my golfing partner and I took first place in the first year there was a league in my city...we were pretty happy about that). Generally, it was a given that we would spend several hours 'planning' our work in the 'office', and we were usually happier when we were done than we were when we began.
My partner had this old beat-up Ford F-something with a 3-speed on the column; it wasn't pretty but it got us where we needed to go, and it actually ran pretty well given its condition. Still had the old aluminum keys before they started making them out of brass or whatever it is they make them out of nowadays. One day when we were ready to leave, my buddy went to the drivers' side of the truck which was nearest the curb, and I to the passenger side, which was on the street. Not just any old street, mind you. A two-lane, northbound street which is one of the top five busiest streets in town. There are speed limits posted, but people usually drive at least ten over, traffic permitting. My buddy opened his door with the key, and for reasons unknown to me and every other person on the planet except him, instead of reaching over and opening my door from the inside like anyone else would have done, he decides to toss the keys to me without telling me first (because apparently I was just supposed to know that was the plan), sliding them across the top of the cab, hoping I'll see them in time and catch them.
I didn't.
The keys went over my head, and landed about three feet away from me, in the lane of traffic. I started to step and bend over to pick them up, and something told me to look before I got to where I was going. I turned my head to the right, and HOLY CRAP there was a vehicle coming right at me, not even bothering to slow down any. Naturally, I jumped back against my buddy's truck, and I heard
<clink>
And then I did
O.O
It all happened so fast that I can barely remember what kind of vehicle it was. But what I DO remember...very vividly...is the sound car keys make when they're stuck in someone's front tire hitting the pavement repeatedly at 30 mph. All I could do was stand and stare with my mouth open and my eyes as big as quarters. Our keys were going down the road in someone's front tire and there wasn't a goddamn thing I could do about it. I stood and stared some more, and my buddy gets out and comes around to see what's going on. I pointed...and pointed some more. Then I picked my jaw up off the ground and started to tell him what happened. He told me to quit fuckin' around and give him the keys. I said "DUDE...someone ran them over. They're going north right now. I'm serious as a heart attack."
His jaw was then on the ground as well. We stood and stared at each other, mouths wide open, as if we were watching the Titanic sink to her watery grave. A few minutes later, we composed ourselves to walk down the street, he on one side and I on the other, to see if the keys had worked themselves out and were waiting to be found. They didn't, and they weren't. A half mile later we walked back to call a locksmith to come make us a new key.
Fast forward three days later.
We're in the 'office' doing some 'planning', enjoying our lunch (both solid and liquid) and this guy walks in and sits down about four stools away from us next to a friend of his. We didn't think anything of it, he was just another guy in 'planning' mode. A few minutes later, I hear the man's voice elevate, and he says, "You'll NEVER guess what happened to me three days ago. I got home from work and had a goddamn flat tire. Some asshole jammed a car key in my front tire...and those tires are only two months old!!"
I turn to my buddy with almost a crazed look on my face and and in a loud, semi-drunken whisper I said "DUDE!!!! LISTEN TO THAT GUY!!!" My buddy goes over and asks the man if he still had the key that was in his tire. The man says, "Yeah, I saved 'em just in case." My buddy starts telling the guy what had happened, offered to pay for the tire, and pretty soon the whole place was in bottle-induced hysterics and we called off 'work' early that day to celebrate the reunion of my buddy and his keys.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
The Bear
It's been brought to my attention more than once that I have had experiences in my life that others may want to read about. It's also been suggested that I write an actual book, but that's too much like work. The time has come to document some of these experiences. Hence, the blog begins.
I was thinking about what my first post would be whilst doing some dishes, and in light of the recent holiday, Fathers' Day, I decided to share an experience I had with my dad when I was young. My dad, SFC Gene Stetter (ret), was the greatest man alive. He hunted, he fished, and he knew everything about everything. When he passed away he left me two things...his hairline and his potty mouth. He taught me how to shoot a gun, use a fish pole, build things out of stained glass (that will be a future story) and the Lord only knows how many other things.
When I was about eight years old, we were on a family vacation up in northern Wisconsin, somewhere near Hayward. There's a lot to do up there if you take the time to find it. Some of the best fishing in the world is in that area, and I've had the chance to experience it many times. Northern pike, muskellunge, and many other fish fell to our fishing expertise over the years.
Something else that there were plenty of up north are bears. Bears, in my opinion, are the coolest animals alive. They are my favorite animal to watch and I can spend hours upon hours on YouTube watching videos of bears doing anything from dancing to fishing to fighting other bears. They're just cool. But anyways...back to the story. One of the local attractions up north was this dump where the bears would go to scavenge for food after dark. People would come from all over to watch the bears, bringing loaves of bread and fish they'd caught to toss out for the bears to eat. There were never any grizzlies or kodiaks or any of the bigger bear species there, just your basic black bears that were just as cool. When you're eight years old and sitting in the truck with your old man tossing hot dogs to a bear, you're on cloud nine.
After we had thrown out a few hot dogs and pieces of bread to the one bear that was there after the rest had left, my old man looks at me and says, "I bet if you take a hot dog and walk up to that bear real nice and slow and don't scare him, he'll take it right out of our hand."
o.O (internet WTF eyes)
I looked at my old man like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears or something, and it felt like he was asking me to take the One Ring into the fiery depths of Mordor or some epic task of that nature. My eyes got as big as quarters, and I pretty much told him he was nuts, however an eight-year-old would say that back in 1981. He assured me that nothing would happen, and not wanting to act like a sissy in front of my old man, I reluctantly took the hot dog (I think it was an Oscar Meyer) and opened the passenger door on his F-150 verrrrrry slowly. I stepped out onto the ground with one foot, and I felt fear setting in. My old man did too, because he said to me "He's more afraid of you than you are of him, so don't let him know you're afraid." Yeah...thanks, Dad. I'll remember that when he's eating my face and laughing about it later with the other bears.
I started of walking towards the bear, which was only about 20 yards from me but felt like an endless mile. I readied the hot dog...arm straight out, one eye closed, head cocked to one side not wanting to look, and my tongue was hanging out like that infamous Michael Jordan picture. I stepped slowly but steadily closer to the bear, and then...he saw me. His big head turned to me, and he started sniffing the air, sensing that there was something edible heading his way. To him, it was the hot dog, but to me it could have been...well, me, for all I knew. Then he turned his body to me and strolled over to me nice and easy. I froze like a deer in headlights...I couldn't have moved even if I had wanted to. The bear was within six feet from me and I looked right at him...and he looked at me.
I was certain this was it...I had mentally prepared myself to be eaten momentarily, and as my hand was shaking uncontrollably, the bear walked up and ate the hot dog right from my hand like I would eat a corn dog. Just grabbed it and walked away...that was it.
I was still frozen...totally unable to move. I then heard my old man tell me to back up slowly and come back to the truck. I did exactly that and to my surprise, I wasn't eaten. I wasn't made into bear food before my very eyes. I still had all my limbs and I hadn't wet my pants. Success =).
I got into the truck and looked at my old man...he just looked at me with the face that says "I told you so, silly...". That was by far the highlight of my summer...not many things I've done to date have been anywhere near as cool.
Thanks for reading...there will be much more in the future.
I was thinking about what my first post would be whilst doing some dishes, and in light of the recent holiday, Fathers' Day, I decided to share an experience I had with my dad when I was young. My dad, SFC Gene Stetter (ret), was the greatest man alive. He hunted, he fished, and he knew everything about everything. When he passed away he left me two things...his hairline and his potty mouth. He taught me how to shoot a gun, use a fish pole, build things out of stained glass (that will be a future story) and the Lord only knows how many other things.
When I was about eight years old, we were on a family vacation up in northern Wisconsin, somewhere near Hayward. There's a lot to do up there if you take the time to find it. Some of the best fishing in the world is in that area, and I've had the chance to experience it many times. Northern pike, muskellunge, and many other fish fell to our fishing expertise over the years.
Something else that there were plenty of up north are bears. Bears, in my opinion, are the coolest animals alive. They are my favorite animal to watch and I can spend hours upon hours on YouTube watching videos of bears doing anything from dancing to fishing to fighting other bears. They're just cool. But anyways...back to the story. One of the local attractions up north was this dump where the bears would go to scavenge for food after dark. People would come from all over to watch the bears, bringing loaves of bread and fish they'd caught to toss out for the bears to eat. There were never any grizzlies or kodiaks or any of the bigger bear species there, just your basic black bears that were just as cool. When you're eight years old and sitting in the truck with your old man tossing hot dogs to a bear, you're on cloud nine.
After we had thrown out a few hot dogs and pieces of bread to the one bear that was there after the rest had left, my old man looks at me and says, "I bet if you take a hot dog and walk up to that bear real nice and slow and don't scare him, he'll take it right out of our hand."
o.O (internet WTF eyes)
I looked at my old man like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears or something, and it felt like he was asking me to take the One Ring into the fiery depths of Mordor or some epic task of that nature. My eyes got as big as quarters, and I pretty much told him he was nuts, however an eight-year-old would say that back in 1981. He assured me that nothing would happen, and not wanting to act like a sissy in front of my old man, I reluctantly took the hot dog (I think it was an Oscar Meyer) and opened the passenger door on his F-150 verrrrrry slowly. I stepped out onto the ground with one foot, and I felt fear setting in. My old man did too, because he said to me "He's more afraid of you than you are of him, so don't let him know you're afraid." Yeah...thanks, Dad. I'll remember that when he's eating my face and laughing about it later with the other bears.
I started of walking towards the bear, which was only about 20 yards from me but felt like an endless mile. I readied the hot dog...arm straight out, one eye closed, head cocked to one side not wanting to look, and my tongue was hanging out like that infamous Michael Jordan picture. I stepped slowly but steadily closer to the bear, and then...he saw me. His big head turned to me, and he started sniffing the air, sensing that there was something edible heading his way. To him, it was the hot dog, but to me it could have been...well, me, for all I knew. Then he turned his body to me and strolled over to me nice and easy. I froze like a deer in headlights...I couldn't have moved even if I had wanted to. The bear was within six feet from me and I looked right at him...and he looked at me.
I was certain this was it...I had mentally prepared myself to be eaten momentarily, and as my hand was shaking uncontrollably, the bear walked up and ate the hot dog right from my hand like I would eat a corn dog. Just grabbed it and walked away...that was it.
I was still frozen...totally unable to move. I then heard my old man tell me to back up slowly and come back to the truck. I did exactly that and to my surprise, I wasn't eaten. I wasn't made into bear food before my very eyes. I still had all my limbs and I hadn't wet my pants. Success =).
I got into the truck and looked at my old man...he just looked at me with the face that says "I told you so, silly...". That was by far the highlight of my summer...not many things I've done to date have been anywhere near as cool.
Thanks for reading...there will be much more in the future.
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