Full Credits

Stats & Data

March 16, 2008


there are a few reasons why my band wont make it in our current incarnation. one...our drummer got deported. two...bass player is a flake (aren't they all?). three...we don't care what you think about our music. but even with all that, we still fucking rule. anyone reading this should check out a demo video our bass player made on youtube here is the url:


it's awesome and i have euro-fag hair. fucking brilliant. now on to blog entry...

so the last couple days have been a blur of pneumonia and pot that i prefer not to think much about, but since it involves an unwarranted trip to a holding cell in a harlem police precinct i guess i can drudge up the memories. i was coming home from work on a day when i wasn't supposed to be there anyway (hi, my name is dante hicks...i'm a tool) and i see one of the guys that lives in my building getting what looks like mugged, at the end of my block. so i run over shouting his name hoping that they guys messing with him will just leave. instead they turn to confront me. as soon as i make eye contact with the man who looks at me first i realize these guys are cops and my buddy is getting tossed for drugs (this happens a lot to the people who live in my building). well, now i'm getting tossed for drugs as well. they find none on me or my friend, but that's never the end of it. as usual they ask each of us to open the front door with out master keys. neither of us have them as i have given mine to my girl and mi amigo...well, i can't speak for his stupidity, so i won't. so we both end up in cuffs heading to the holding cell in the closest station (thankfully just a couple blocks away). holding isn't so bad in new york. you sometimes meet cool people. this time i met these two awesome she-males. usually, though, i just squat in the corner and pretend to be shitting myself for however long i'm in there...this tactic is only effective, however, if you are willing to take it all the way. the illusion of insanity is totally lost if you suddenly stand up and go use the toilet like a civilized person after hours and hours of squatting in the corner grunting and farting. but anyway, i digress. so i'm in holding and i'm talking to these two cute trannys and suddenly i remember...the police never full on searched me before sending me in to holding. (in fact, the only reason i don't still have my jacket is because both the cops and i knew that someone would kick the shit out of me for it...it's a badass coat). this means that i am about to have one of the best nights in jail i've ever had. i have an ace up my sleeve...or in my pants, rather. i tell the trannys to keep a look out as i reach into my pants. and there tucked between my ballsac and my penis, is a dimebag. and i said, let us be high...and it was good. it was as if, for one tiny moment, my little fist was uncomfortably jammed up the asshole of the law

stay sober...unless you're alive