Out of the Blue and into the Black (494)



The article below is taken from the Sunday, January 20th 2007 edition of the Philadelphia Inquirer.

Punkius Pilot Found Dead in Phila. Apartment

Doomis Malone, Inquirer Music Critic

Punkius Pilot, March 2006

PHILADELPHIA, Penn.  Punkius Pilot, bassist and original member of the rock band BEARFACE, was found dead in the basement of his Manayunk apartment on the 4000 block of Dexter Street early Saturday afternoon.  Doctors have yet to determine a cause of death, but substance abuse seems likely.  Several empty bottles of MD 20/20 (a brand of fortified wine) were found in the basement of the apartment, along with sleeping pills, prescription allergy medicine, and a half eaten Chipotle burrito.  Pilot had a reputation for grinding down prescription pills into a powder to season his burritos, as seen in the documentary "BEARFACE: Give me my Ass Back."  BEARFACE drummer, Glam Bodacious, found the body at approximately 12:30 PM Saturday afternoon after finding the musician's front door wide open.  Finding Pilot's body has clearly sent Bodacious into a state of delusion. "At first I was devastated," explained Bodacious to reporters on Saturday evening.  "But then I remembered that if we just play 'Thriller' at midnight he'll rise from the dead and things should basically be back to normal." 

Despite the optimistic outlook of Bodacious, BEARFACE's future is surely uncertain.  While Pilot was not a driving creative force behind the band's music, he embodied the look and attitude of their legion of fans.  His death could not be more untimely, as the band's first studio album "The Right to BEAR FACE" had just climbed to number one on Billboard's top 100 albums of 2006 in the previous month. 

Pilot did sign a will while on tour last summer outlining his preferred funeral arrangements.  However, the city of Philadelphia has denied Pilot's band mates permission to place his head on a pike and display it atop the Ben Franklin Bridge, as was his final wish.  As friends and family determine the best way to pay their final respects, funeral arrangements are temporarily on hold.

What's in Your Head? (497)

Zombies.  Zombies are in your head, most likely eating your brains.  Quite honestly, I'm perfectly fine with that.  I don't consider myself to be a zombie aficionado.  If you consider yourself one, please say this out loud.  If you're not ashamed of what you just said, please stop reading this.  However, like I said I'm not an expert on the subject, but I don't see the downside to having my brain eaten by a zombie.  In any zombie movie I've ever seen, there is usually a small pack of norms running away from the zombies so they can continue the human race.  They spend their entire non-zombie existence in fear.  They have to fend off the zombies with their tanks, and their bombs, and their bombs, and their guns, but ultimately, most of them die.  When they do die at the hands of a zombie, they then usually turn into a zombie.  So, the question I am posing is this: Would you rather

A. Run around terrified avoiding zombies at every turn, or
B. Chase around norms with your zombie buds, eating brains and high fiving.

I'd choose the latter.  Wouldn't you much rather be the lion than the gazelle?  Therefore, I've decided that in the event of a zombie attack, I'm getting my brains eaten immediately and will play the rest of the battle out on team zombie.

So, now you're saying, "I have principals, one of which is that I am against eating other people".  That's admirable, but honestly you probably would only have to eat your friends' brains for maybe a few months.  After a while, we'd probably run out of people, and everyone would be zombies.  After that I imagine we would just start eating animals, which is what we do anyway.  You're a vegetarian you say?  If so, then you have some major issues to work out before you even have time to worry about zombies. 

This Might Bump Me into a Higher Tax Bracket (500 Days)

Like most people, I often lie awake at night wondering what I would do if I had billions of dollars and no need to work.  Once I get past the easy decisions, such as where I would live and who I would have killed, I start to think about more pressing issues.  Murphy once told me that if you're rich you can be eccentric.  This is not a luxury afforded to the middle class.  If you make just enough to pay the bills and display your excrement in a jar on your mantle, you're not eccentric, you're just weird.  I've decided that this is something I would surely take advantage of.  At the moment, I'm leaning toward opening several local, poorly named businesses in areas where they would surely fail.  So far I've come up with the following:

1. Trail of Beers Gastropub located on a Native American Reservation
2. Crepe of the Nan King in China Town
3. The West Bank in Brooklyn

I would spare no expense to assure that each business was superior to any competitor in its area.  It would be too easy for groups to boycott the businesses if the product being produced wasn't exceptional.  I have no doubt that you'd often hear, "I know the Japanese ravaged our women and children, but god damn this is one hell of a crepe!"  Likewise, I don't care how anti-Palestinian you are, you're not passing up 6% interest on your savings account at the West Bank. 

Sure, I could use my money to build schools or shoe the children with no shoes on their feet (whatever the hell that means), but I've earned my money, probably, and I'll be damned if I don't exercise my right to make people uncomfortable.

Gotta Start it with a Positive Jam (501 Days)

Around this time eight years ago, I remember waking up with a terrible hangover, complete with all the normal symptoms associated with a typical night of heavy drinking.  I especially remember this particular hangover because of the intense dry mouth that it brought about.  Although I would have much rather gone back to sleep, I forced myself out of bed to head downstairs for a glass of water.  It was nearly 10AM, so I knew there was no chance of anyone else in the house being awake.  I tried to walk quietly down the stairs bracing myself with one arm against the wall.  Before I even got to the living room, the smell of stale beer from the dozens of half empty red solo cups scattered all over the floor hit me, and I immediately felt the need to get sick.  I probably could have vomited all over the floor without it being noticed for several weeks.  However, vomiting meant buying bagels for the house, and I did not feel like driving my car.  After catching my breath and forcing the contents of my stomach back to a more appropriate area, I made my way to the kitchen and unglued my feet from the floor one step at a time before I made it to the fridge.  Once I had filled one of the remaining empty red solo cups with water several times, I decided I would eat something, so I checked the freezer for something microwavable.  When I opened the freezer my view of the frozen food was blocked by a pair of women's boots.  Without thinking, I moved the boots, grabbed a breakfast hot pocket, and put the boots back in the freezer.  After I ate, I went back to bed and slept until about noon.

In 501 days I will be 30.  I would imagine that by that point in my life, finding boots in my freezer may initially surprise me.  I don't know how I feel about that.  Since I have not been writing as much as I'd like to, and because at some point within the next few years there may be a little Barlich, which I hear slightly cuts into one's free time, I've decided start this blog while I still can.  I don't have a definitive topic that I intend to cover, but I'd like to mainly concentrate on ideas and experiences that were generated in my twenties before they're over.  Let the count down begin...