bad sandwich chronicles

Once you start hanging out with people who have little kids, (and unless you’re some sort of weirdo, at some point you will), you’ll notice the following: the kids will be acting like fucking monsters, and the parent will inevitably say something along the lines of “yeah, it sucks. She’s going through a real shitty phase right now.” This is fair. Kids develop quickly, both physically and mentally, and so it stands to reason that their personalities change at a similarly rapid pace. My son used to go through phases where he would only let his mom put him to bed or feed him or get him in and out of his car seat, then he’d go through a phase where he’d only let me do those things. Phases exist. It’s not just a way to explain away a shitty kid without admitting how shitty your kid actually is. All kids go through shitty phases. They do.

BUT! You almost NEVER hear a parent say “oh yeah, little Rudy is going through a really good phase right now,” because parents, when assessing their lil’ angels, tend to think of bad phases as aberrations, and moreover, that the kid’s default setting is good.  I know that parents rarely mention ‘good phases,’ because I do all the time and every time I do, other parents laugh incredulously and say things like “good phase? Oh man…” as though I’m joking. But I’m not. The way I see it, if you can write off a kid’s bad behavior as a shitty, petulant phase, you have to admit and recognize that the good bits are phases too. At the end of the day, a kid’s entire development is just a series of phases. That’s it. There’s no underlying current of any kind at all. It’s phases. And recognizing that actually makes things much easier, because, since you can be confident that this phase will pass, you can appreciate the great ones for the beautiful, sweet, fleeting moments they are, and you can also deal with the bad ones in much the same way you deal with February winter, tax season, your parents’ extended stay at your house, finals etc. You just have to hunker down and get through that shit. And you will (unless you die, in which case, fuck it! You’re out….but that’s a whole other story).

The thing is, the ‘this too shall pass’ theory doesn’t just apply to kids and their shitty, capricious moods. One thing I’ve learned after 5.5 years of being a parent, is that (duh) childhood is just a weird microcosm of life, and that this entire thing we’re doing here, whether we’re Michael Jordan or the janitor in my office building with the hoop earing, is no more than a series of phases. Life is phases, a moving sea, nothing is permanent, nothing is fixed, up is down, etc. Everything. All of it.

Of course, this all seems pretty obvious when it’s written down. “Nothing is permanent, huh? No shit, Watson. We all die.” Yeah, but it’s not always so easy to see in the practice of being alive. Example: 2 years ago, I discovered I’d somehow become a stay at home dad who was very lost. I’d never had much of a real job and my resume was essentially “1993-present: drank beer in a van.” The band I was in was inactive, being audited by the IRS, and generally seemed pretty done, my friends were all moving out of Chicago, I had no money, no prospects and I had absolutely no idea what to do. The one shitty job I HAD been able to get, bartending at a shitty sports bar, had fired me out of the blue just a week before my second kid was born. My wife and I were both super stressed as new parents, and, though she was always cool about it, my lack of earning potential was a major bummer for both of us. I saw no way out of my situation. I was ashamed of myself and even briefly thought that maybe it would be best if I just took off until I got my shit together and could be a contributing member of my household. This was a pretty stupid idea, born in desperation, and I quickly realized that if I bailed, there would be no one to watch the kids while my wife was at work, so I’d be doing way more harm than good, which, looking back, duh.

The point is, I was so stuck that I was having crazy, irrational panic thoughts. I was frozen and there was literally no possible way to change anything. But it’s been 2 years and, hey, fuck me! Pretty much everything HAS changed somehow. My kids are old enough that they can sleep through the night and fix themselves breakfast and get themselves ready for school, so we’ve got some sanity in our lives. The band I play in has the opportunity to work with one of my favorite labels, and we’re about to put out a record that I’m very confident is pretty cool. Beyond that, I have a great, satisfying job working with awesome people and generally shit is really great. I literally have no complaints right now.

BUT, this too shall pass. This shit’s a phase. Just like those dark times, which seemed endless, came to an end, this will also come to an end. Maybe it’ll be because things get even better, or maybe I’ll get smooshed by a bus or come down with a bad disease, or I’ll lose my voice and never be able to sing again. Or maybe I’ll lose my job or my wife will fall in love with the guy from the pet store or my kids will start doing krokodil…I don’t know, man. Anything can happen and it’s ONLY because I know how fleeting all this stuff is that I feel like I’m able to really appreciate it in the moment.

SO, here’s the upshot of all this: If shit’s rough, it will pass. If shit’s great, it’ll pass. Cling to your happy moments and recognize them for what they are, even if it’s just sitting in a chair with a dog on your lap, watching wheel of fortune. Because that shit won’t last forever. Neither will sadness and pain, unless you really, truly are the kind of person who clings to that shit. And if that’s your scene, if you’re the kind of person who’s not happy unless you’re not happy, well, then in a weird way, you’re stoked. You’re either happy (bummer) or miserable (yay!).

I don’t know. I like you guys. I’m stoked to be here. Thanks for reading. Xooxxox

I don’t know much about shit, and rock and roll is definitely none of my business. In fact, Rock and roll is like self-actualization. I have no idea what it is, but I do know what it ain’t. And here’s a list. It’s by no means definitive, and like everything, there are exceptions to all these. With that in mind, here’s some shit that ain’t rock and roll:

Kids on album covers

Being a mom or dad is not particularly rock and roll. It’s a great thing to be, and being a parent doesn’t instantly make you un-rock and roll, but at the heart of it, rock and roll is insurgent youth music and, like it or not, dads, you’re the physical manifestation thing that rock and roll is pushing back against. That being said, having kids is cool, and the act of making kids is very, very rock and roll. SOOOO, this is where shit gets tricky. Oh, is your kid holding a beer? Did you dangle a cigarette from his lips? Neato. Wouldn’t that be a rad album cover, guys?! No. No it wouldn’t be a rad album cover, you dorky old dad. No one, save maybe your own parents, think pictures of your kid are even one one thousandth as cool as you do, so take your enthusiasm for that wacky picture of your daughter in the toilet, divide it by a thousand, and that’s a pretty generous take on what we’re all seeing. That shit belongs in a scrapbook, and there’s nothing rock and roll about scrapbooking.

Pets

Similar to children, but often given more of a pass because they’re not so overtly wimpy, quit with the songs about your fucking pets. Oh, did your cat die? Sad. Very sad. Have a kitty funeral and bury him in the yard and lovingly gather up the scratching post and all that and set it by the dumpster with a wistful sigh. That’s dead pets. Don’t write a fucking song about dead pets. It’s a cloying and desperate bid for emotional resonance. It’s the day-to-day version of writing a song about the holocaust or 9-11. Also, (and I don’t believe this needs to be touched on at all), don’t write a song from the perspective of live pets. Pet thoughts aren’t rock and roll. They aren’t. Pet thoughts are like “food food sleep lick the sticky spot on the floor food I’m shitting etc”. “But what about the weakerthans and jets to brazil (and whoever else)?” Uh, those aren’t exactly the most ‘rockin’ bands, dudes. Plus, those particular songs, even by Jets/weakerthans standards, are pretty dickless. I GUESS if Varg from Burzum had some wolves or something, that could be a cool exception. I dunno. Proceed with caution here, folks. (ed note: I am a big fan of both the Weakerthans and Jets to Brazil, so save it, nerds)

Sticking pills in your ass

Once, I was on tour with this band who came across a bunch of cool pills. I think they were percocets or something, butt that’s not the point. The point is, these dudes told me that they were going to stick the pills in their asses because “that’s the only way to truly get 100% of the effects of the pills.” I’m sorry, but there’s just nothing rock and roll about a bunch of dudes sitting backstage with their ankles over their heads stuffing pills up their asses. There just isn’t.

Any bullshit sentimentality

We touched on this in the ‘dead pets’ section, but generally, keep it to yourself. Yes, an emotional outburst can be awesome. You can wail in despair. You can (to briefly go back and defend a band I lightly weezed before) scream something like “you keep fucking up my life” like Blake from Jets to Brazil does at the end of ‘I typed for miles’ and it can be resonant as shit, as long as you’re not wallowing in that kind of gross sentimentality the rest of the time. You need to have a sense of humor that exists in your entire body of work before you are allowed to temporarily abandon it for flat out sentimentality and have that moment of soul-baring achieve the desired effect. Now, before you all start thinking I’ve lost my mind, there’s a big difference between being funny and having a sense of humor. Being funny is hard and it’s very overt and it often overshadows anything else that’s going on. Having a sense of humor just means you’re not dead serious and lame. Bleakness can have a sense of humor. Anger can have a sense of humor. Sadness can have a sense of humor. In order for anything to have true emotional resonance, it needs to have a sense of humor, so it can show the full humanity of whatever emotion it’s conveying. Just like you need a pinpoint of light to see how black something really is. If you’re operating without humor, chances are about 100% that your band is wack and you stink to be around. Also, chances are like 85% that you’ve worn pantyhose on your arms at some point.

Shushing motherfuckers

If you’re at a comedy show, you have to be quiet. That’s the thing. Comedy is about timing and if you’re talking, you’re fucking the flow up for the comedian, who you’re ostensibly there to see. If you wanna talk, go to a bar or go to a fucking rock show. If you’re at a rock show and someone on stage tells you to be quiet because what they’re saying or doing is so very very important, you don’t have to listen to them because jesus fucking Christ is that lame. Here’s the rule of thumb: music is a visceral experience and you (‘you’ are in the band now, btw) should be able to hold peoples’ attention with your songcraft, your skill and your gigantic pile of speakers. If there’s some dick gabbing in the middle of an attentive audience, the audience will shut him or her up themselves (I’ve witnessed it many times). If you find that people generally just aren’t paying attention, however, it’s not really their fault. Sorry. You should be better at songs.

Picking on people weaker than you

This is the shittiest thing you can do in any situation. Don’t do it. If you pick on people who are weaker than you, you are an asshole of the lamest order. Well, it was great when MCA did that verse in Professor Booty where he dissed the dork from 3^rd Bass, BUT, that was a kick ass exception to this otherwise hard and fast rule. Never pick on someone weaker than you. Not in rock and roll. Not in your office. Not at the bar. Not in the street. Never. Never. God. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Using the name of your genre in your song

Singing about “rock and roll” or “punk” is pretty dorky and if you’re gonna pull it off, you’d better be black in the 50’s or fourteen, respectively. The exception to this is metal, because there’s nothing quite so metal as when Manowar sings that they’re the kings of metal. Hard to argue that shit, bros.

Religion/lack thereof

Ugh. Keep your religion out of rock and roll. Conversely, do you hate religion? Good. Whuppity doo. That opinion used to be insurgent. In fact, ‘Halie Selassie Up Your Ass’ by Propagandhi is the only song I ever turned down in my room, because the repeated entreaty to ‘fuck religion’ seemed WAAAAY more out there to me, way more likely to bum out my mom than even 2 Live Crew singing ‘nibble on my dick like a rat does cheese,’ but these days, yawn. Everyone gets it. You’re kind of picking on the weak with this one, because let’s face it: if there’s a god, he’s such a fucking asshole that you KNOW he’s gonna laugh his ass off right in the face of everyone that wasted their Sundays in church and listening to Matisyahu while we were all getting high and having fun and listening to Judas Priest. Imagine that. You spend your life worshiping someone who’s so transparently an asshole, only to die and realize that, lo and behold, he’s an asshole. Oh, you don’t think god’s an asshole? Explain to me why people in Africa are covered in flies and eating dirt while people shoot at them and rape their kids while I’m over here looking at blue jeans online (and do it without making god sound like an asshole). See? But still, nothing rock and roll about Jesus either. Sorry Jesus.

Begging

Don’t beg. Don’t beg for love or forgiveness or fans or for people to come to the front of the stage or for people to dance or for anything. It’s lame. What are you, six? Get it yourself. You want love? Be nice, or fuck, write a kickass song that makes people love you. You want forgiveness, act like someone who deserves to be forgiven. You want people to come up and dance? Be a better band. Don’t beg. Begging is for babies, who, as we’ve already discussed, aren’t rock and roll at all. Well, begging is also for hobos, who, ironically are pretty much the most rock and roll people ever. Okay. That blows this whole theory, I guess. I don’t know. Like I said before, rock and roll is none of my business.

Happy thanksgiving once again.