MarcO

An Ode To Greggers by Marc Olszewski There was once was a boy named Greg Who was not hatched from an egg Pops mounted his lady And shared his man gravy And now there is a boy named Greg. There is a man and his name is Risko He cannot be found at the disco He drinks and he smokes and tokes and tokes and tokes this is the man they call Risko. These days we call him Greggers He once made a woman preggers He's tall and he's sweet With two hands and two feet G-R-E-G are his letters. Let's drink to this beautiful cunt That 50-drinkin, shin kickin' runt To say it may be crude Downright vile and rude But fuÇk it - Let's drink to this beautiful cunt!

fuck Steely Dan, I'm putting Neil on.....

rock journalism was an invaluable tool for me, growing up and trying to find my way through the rock and roll maze.

Rolling Stone is excellent for current affairs coverage. The entertainment side of things, not so much. I think music journalism is an artform in and of itself, albeit a much abused and maligned one. I'll never, ever tire of people ragging on their local music journalist for panning a show or a cd they love. It's as predictable as the turn of the seasons, and possibly more entertaining. "Let's write him a letter pointing out the single factual error that slipped through - that hack!" Oh, let's not. A review is a review is a review. An article is something else. So often, music press just reads like an extension of a bands PR office, unfortunately. The bands have product to sell and the press have issues to sell. I scratch your back, you scratch mine, unfortunately. Only the independent-minded writer can have any respectability at all, and as Luke has pointed out, that can be a lonely road to travel, with not much material gain.

Slowpoke Something opened up the gates again, I cant control it, so I rushed right in. Here comes a mommy and a little girl, Saw open drawers from around the world. I got some medals hanging on my chest, Ive seen some good ones, but I missed the rest. Lady luck dont you turn on me, Im just a student of your history, Im just a student of your history. Slowpoke Im gonna run with you, Wear all your clothes and do what you do. Slowpoke we got some things to find, When I was faster, I was always behind, When I was faster, I was always behind. Something pushed back the curtain again, The stage is deeper and the crowd is in. The song is gentle, but the song is now. Somethings missing, but something is found, Somethings missing, but something is found, Somethings missing, but something is found. Slowpoke Im gonna run with you, Wear all your clothes and do what you do. Slowpoke we got some things to find, When I was faster, I was always behind. When I was faster, When I was faster, I was always behind, When I was faster...... (from CSNY's occasionally awful "Looking Forward" cd)

I am honoured. And old, apparently.

geeks.

oh, you are not the only one my friend! a great album indeed!

geek.

great job Luke. You're a talented and effective writer.

when they announced it earlier this year, they made it clear it was a reluctant release that was just to fulfill part of their RCA contract, something they HAD to do. To their credit, they decided to accentuate it by asking fans what individual live versions of tunes they could throw on there.

it's among the best "rock" biographies out there. it is excellent! enjoy!

TIME OFF FOR GOOD BEHAVIOR My brother went to prison He's in Kingston doin' time He got seven years for sellin' What I've been smokin' all my life Time off for good behavior But the boy don't feel too good Locked behind those steel bars I don't know if he should Yeh a few years ago they called me Back home to get a big award They also called my brother But they made him say "My Lord" They locked me up in a Hall of Fame And threw away the keys But when they put my brother away It really did somethin' to me Now I'm guilty as hell for sayin' "Boy you better go back home" You know you'll get a fair shake there We're running all alone When he called me up from the border With the Mounties on his tail I said go back to Canada We can raise the bail Now I get these letters From a cell with no TV He says he's outside one hour And inside twenty three Time off for good behavior But the boy don't feel too good Locked behind those steel bars I don't know if he should Now I'm guilty as hell for sayin' "Boy you better go back home" You know you'll get a fair shake there We're running all alone When he called me up from the border With the Mounties on his tail I said go back to Canada We can raise the bail My brother went to prison He's in Kingston doin' time He got seven years for sellin' What I've been smokin' all my life (unreleased)

Ordinary People lyrics by Neil Young -------- In a dusty town a clock struck high noon, two men stood face to face. One wore black and one wore white, but of fear there wasn't a trace. Two hundred years later two hot rods drag through the very same place, And a half a million people Moved in to pick up the pace, a factory full of people. Makin' parts to go to outer space, a train load of people. They were aimin' for another place, out of town people. There's a man in the window with a big cigar, says everything's for sale. The house and the boat and the railroad car, the owner's gotta go to jail. He acquired these things from a life of crime, now he's selling them to raise his bail. He was rippin' off the people. Sellin' guns to the underground, tryin' to help the people. Lose their ass for a piece of ground, rippin' off the people. Skimmin' the top when there was no one around, tryin' to help the people. He was dealing antiques in a hardware store but he sure had a lot to hide. He had a backroom full of the guns of war and a ton of ammunition besides. Well, he walked with a cane, kept a bolt on the door with five pit bulls inside, Just a warning to the people Who might try to break in at night, protection from the people. Selling safety in the darkest night, tryin' to help the people. Get the drugs to the street all right, ordinary people. Well, it's hard to say where a man goes wrong, might be here and it might be there. What starts out weak might get too strong, if you can't tell foul from fair. But it's hard to judge from an angry throng of hands stretched into the air, The vigilante people. Takin' law into their own hands, conscientious people. Crackin' down on the druglord's land, government people. Confiscatin' all the dealer's land, patch-of-ground people. Down at the factory, they're puttin' new windows in. The vandals made a mess of things, and the homeless just walked right in. Well, they worked here once, and they live here now, but they might work here again, They're ordinary people. And they're livin' in a nightmare, hard workin' people. And they don't know how they go there, ordinary people. And they think that you don't care, hard workin' people. Down on the assembly line, they keep puttin' the same thing out. But the people today, they just ain't buyin', nobody can figure it out. Well, they try like hell to build a quality end, they're workin' hard without a doubt, They're ordinary people. And the dollar's what it's all about, hard workin' people. But the customers are walkin' out, Lee Iacocca people. Yeah, they look but they just don't buy, hard workin' people. Two out of work models and a fashion slave try to dance away the Michelob night. The bartender poured himself another drink, while two drunks sat watchin' the fight. The champ went down, then he got up again, and then he went out like a light, He was fightin' for the people. But his timing wasn't right, for Las Vegas people Who came to see a Las Vegas fight, high rollin' people. Takin' limos though the neon night, fightin' for the people. And then a new Rolls Royce and a company car they went flyin' down the street. Each one tryin' to make it to the gate before employees manned the fleet. The trucks full of products for the modern home, set to roll out into the street Of downtown people. Tryin' to make their way to work, nose-to-the-stone people. Some are saints, and some are jerks, hard workin' people. Stoppin' for a drink on the way to work, alcoholic people. Yeah Yeah, they're takin' it one day, one day at a time. Out on the railroad track, they're cleanin' up number nine. They're scrubbin' the boiler down, well, she really is lookin' fine. Awe, she's lookin' so good, they're gonna bring her back on line, Ordinary people. They're gonna bring the good things back, nose-to-the stone people. Put the business back on track, ordinary people. I got faith in the regular kind, hard workin' people, Patch-of-ground people. (unreleased)

Hitchhiker If I was a hitchhiker on the road and I had to count on you But you needed me to ease the load And for conversation too Or would you just drive on through. You didn't see me in Toronto When I first tried out some hash Smoked some then and I'll do it again If I only had some cash Only had some cash. Then I tried amphetamines And my head was in a glass Taped underneath the speedometer wires Of my '48 Buick's dash. But I knew that wouldn't last. Then came California Where I first saw open water In the land of opportunity I knew I was getting hotter I knew I was getting hotter. But the neon lights And the endless nights The neon lights And the endless nights The neon lights And the endless nights The neon lights And the endless nights They took me by surprise The doctor gave me valium But I still couldn't close my eyes I still couldn't close my eyes. Then came paranoia And it ran away with me I couldn't sign my autograph Or appear on TV Or see or be seen See or be seen Or see or be seen. Living in the country Sounded good to me Smoking grass while the summer lasts In a real organic scene Where everything was green Everything was green. Then we had a kid and we split apart I was living on the road A little cocaine went a long long way To ease that different load But my head did explode My head did explode. I wish I was an Aztec Or a runner in Peru I would build such beautiful buildings To house the chosen few Like an Inca from Peru. If I was a hitchhiker on the road and I had to count on you But you needed me to ease the load And for conversation too Or would you just drive on would you just drive on would you just drive on through. Or would you just drive on would you just drive on would you just drive on through. (unreleased)

Maybe you were drunk? Aloha' date=' Brad[/quote'] unfortunately, no.

When your ankle swells up, so does my heart. that's how much I dig you. dude to dude, nothing "fancy". yaknowwadimean

ah fuck what was I thinking? I'm sorry Greg.

No I'm NOT!!

I'm sorry I lashed out at you like that Greg.

I WROTE YOU A POEM DAMNIT!!! A DIRTY POEM!!!!!!

how bout now???

Hey Greg did I win yet??

mitten.

I love Ringo!