while I am out dropping names...

while I am out dropping names of people I knew who never knew me
I started to think of some other people and some other events

somewhere in the train of thought my ideas got derailed
I drifted back into a daydream of my high school adolescent life
in that day dream I thought of jay amernick and his brother danny
how they grew up to write for the nanny
and how jay and I were friends for a year and friends never again
how jay was a rip off artist
always stealing other people's jokes, stealing other people's "schtick", and stealing other people's anecdotes

stealing another person's anecdote
telling that story from your perspective and making yourself the protagonist is an amazing skill


sure danny was funny enough to lace my Chef Boy Ardee Beef Raviolli with SKOAL on that snow day where we all gathered at Jay's to watch Road Warrior or maybe A Clockwork Orange
it was funny enough that I am sure that Norm Vanderslyes will still call me SKOAL WADZ on every fifth meeting
but it was not so much jay and danny's rise to fame in writing for the nanny
it was more a flashback to the thought of a concept called "frontline"

frontline was like a friendly form of slam dancing that took place at house parties
parties that were in people's living room or maybe their basement
there was not the room for a stage
so there was no stage diving
we removed our shoes and jumped around in our socks like toddlers in a moon bounce
there was not the desire to injure each other
although any time you get boys together there may be an exchange of testosterone

what makes this memory more interesting was that the Washington Post Article mentioned in a previous post had my brother doing an electronic walk down memory lane where he pulled up this one entry blog on BMO: Bloody Mannquin Orchestra

I remember that talent show
I remember it well
I forget whose guitar was jammed in the hydrolic lift as the stage lowered during BMO's awesome free form COOL AS SHIT
but... I seem to recall that BMO got into the talent show by playing their also classic WHAT TIME IS IT which lacked the clapping machine of COOL AS SHIT but contained the repeating recording of the message of the women's voice from when someone called the time



Alex said...

Hey bub, I came upon your blog from your post on the BMO page. I haven't seen you in a while and glad to know you're still out there. It's also remarkable that your last post is about Jay, because for some reason I was just discussing him with someone else you know. He came up because we were reminiscing about a show that took place at my house when my parents were out, and Second G, for which he drummed, was one of the bands that played there.

gwadzilla said...


I wonder if my recollection of those song is anywhere near accurate

if I recall correctly Alex played Sax and Guitar

that was many years ago

to bring it gwadzilla full circle
in the mid 80s alex was a bicycle messenger
then again
who wasn't

gwadzilla said...

I wonder what jay amerneck is up to now

last i heard other than this nanny stuff
was that he went the way of the frat in college
which is pretty sad for someone who once listened to punk

and apparently
when someone asked him about his frat association
he responded

"frat? you wouldn't call your country a cunt"

a joke that I am sure he overheard from across the room and stole for his own

which apparently worked out quite well for him

Alex said...

Well, just in case you didn't recognize the eye in my blog avatar, I am the same Alex... I think I last ran into you at an art exhibit on Florida Avenue around the corner from the new 930 Club, maybe 2-3 years ago.

gwadzilla said...

hello alex
I will drop you an email from your blog
I deduced from the BMO and the Alex name which alex it was...

am I right in thinking that you and jenny are married?

tell her I say hello

I saw her at Rob Hardesty's wedding last year
where her brother and I were in the wedding


google is an amazing thing

and of course the Internet

in our day all we had was word of mouth and spray paint on the wall