Thursday, July 25, 2013

Annals of Late Capitalism (An Occasional Series)

The ultimate compilation album.

Actually, that's Robert Klein, of course. From his 1974 comedy LP Mind Over Matter.

You're welcome.

[h/t BG]


Anonymous said...


The hyenas have left the building.

Hot dogs and donuts no longer chase each other through the Lincoln Tunnel.

Vickie Rock

buzzbabyjesus said...

IMHO this similar sketch, "40 Great Unclaimed Melodies" by the Firesign Theater, from their 1972 album, "Not Insane", is not only way funnier, but more original.

steve simels said...

I'd forgotten that one.

"The Duke's Duet" from Il Schizophreno.....

Anonymous said...

The Firesign Theatre....even their fails were remarkable. On the West Coast they began toying with my mind circa 1966. Their radio show Oz moved from station to station from obscure FM KPFK to the hippest AM-er KRLA to powerhouse FM undergrounder KMET, then back to KPFK.

Loved those guys. Grew up with them so to speak. Their parodies of local advertisements were hilarious, but maybe lost to those who didn't live on the West Coast.

They actually did real advertisements for a SoCal VW dealer which were kind of indescribable. What was the car dealer thinking?

They used to play the Ash Grove a lot. And The Magic Mushroom (Drug Central) where they did live broadcasts.

I still spin Everything You Know Is Wrong on occasion. A little blue moss never hurt anyone. I'll take it over a Bear Whiz anytime.

Vickie Rock

buzzbabyjesus said...


Those really give context to Ralph Spoilport!

I'm quite fond of "Boom Dot Bust" from 1999.

I grew up listening to those guys.
I even owned their "Big Book Of Plays".

When I was out surfing with my friends we'd recreate our favorite scenes. I used to do a mean Rocky Rococo.

Great Stuff!.

Anonymous said...

More Sugar!!!

I admit I took a lot of drugs in those days. Some people say that drugs ruin your memory. Not mine.

The right drugs carve everlasting ripples in the canyons of your mind. I used to love hallucinogens and bennies as an imprinting combo. Listening to Firesign triggers a lot of insane times in my past.

I guess I'm a Firehead to a degree, but probably less than you. I've never checked out their newer stuff. Yet.

With regard to Rocky Rococo, I ran into men who spoke and looked like Joel Cairo twice when I was tripping my brains out. You can only imagine how it destroyed my composure. I even wonder if it could have been the same guy.

Neither one of them was wearing pickle-on-a-rope, but the resemblance to Mr. Lowenstein was uncanny. Morocco Mole couldn't have done a better job. The effect was shattering.

One of these sightings took place at the Mt. Baldy Lodge where he was a bartender. The other as a desk clerk at the Hyatt in Hollywood before a Crimson show at the Whisky. I'd go into detail but it would be more sex and drugs than rock 'n' roll. So...I'll give in to the pajama people and brain police.

Speaking of surfing, I was at Huntington today for the US open event. Probably will go manana too. Maybe the whole weekend. What was your fave surf spot? I always loved it in and around San Clemente / Dana Point/San Onofre.

Still surfing. It gets in your blood. I love the water. Keeps you alive and healthy.

With regard to Ralph Williams, I really miss those days of the late, late shows on TV with the incessant commercials. There was a certain charm to them.

Vickie Rock

buzzbabyjesus said...

I'm famous among my friends for my memory, so obviously the drugs didn't ruin it. Best trip? Mushrooms and acid together.
I grew up in Huntington Beach. I ranged from Seal Beach to San Oceanside.
I only surfed the HB pier at night when it was less crowded, otherwise I could often be found at the power plant or Brookhurst.
I surfed Cotton's with jeeps on the beach because Nixon was home.
In the summer of '75 I became a lifeguard and was invited up to the Gaviota Area where I spent the next five summers working El Capitan, Refugio, and Gaviota State Beaches.
How I ended up in New Jersey is a long strange trip. Contrary to what I grew up believing, there are waves on the east coast.

Anonymous said...

Was the surfing any good out Santa Barbara way?

I own a property near Beach and Yorktown in HB.

When I was real small my family lived in Bellflower/Artesia. My dad used to pack up the neighborhood kids in his DeSoto and take us to the Seal Beach every afternoon. We always fought over who got to ride in the trunk. Ha ha. Those were freer times.

Ever eat at Walt's Wharf in Seal Beach near the pier?

Did you ever go to the Golden Bear when it still stood. I've got a couple of bricks for mementos along with some pretty cool pix. I loved that place. It's a damn shame they didn't save it.

I also used to do a lot of underage drinking at Neptune's Locker on the HB pier.

Occasionally go to Perq's when I like the band playing.

Got a monthly beach house twice a year out Balboa/Newport way with a few other girls. Great times.

Vickie Rock

buzzbabyjesus said...

Santa Barbara surf can be great, but it's difficult unless you're a local. The Hollister Ranch is famous for this.

My house was near Bushard and Indianapolis. I lived there 20 years.

Yes to Walt's Wharf.

I remember The Golden Bear well. I saw Jerry Garcia, among others there.

I'm willing to bet we know someone in common.

Anonymous said...

BBJ: Wow! You lived really close to the beach. Must have been nice. For me, going to the beach involved a little planning.

In the 1990's I used to hit the beach at least three days a week, often mixing it with business. I had an accountant in Costa Mesa and I also used to go to a couple record distributors in the area.

When CD's started to seriously hit, I decided to get a wholesale license in order to support my habit. I only had about fifty customers but they had money, were music maniacs and bought tons of CD's. Not unlike myself. Getting the discs wholesale and selling to others shaved my cost of CD's down to a pittance.

At the time, the biggest one-stop in the area was Abbey Road which was run by a guy named Bruce Ogilvie. They were on Edinger and Ritchey in Santa Ana. The building was visible from the 55 Freeway.

There was also a power tool place near it. They had a huge inflatable drill in front of the building so people would notice from the freeway. However, it never seemed to have enough air in it. Me and Sandy used to goof on it and called it the droopy drill. It could never get it fully up.

I took our Astro Van on these trips and usually brought Sandy and/or my kids along. Plus the surf and boogie boards and other beach stuff.

I'd go to Abbey Road twice a week and on one of these days I'd also go to another distributor in Costa Mesa. They were called Phantom and handled legal import product. It was near the corner of 17th and Placentia - just a stone's throw from the beach and my accountant. So yeah a little biz with the pleasure.

I don't know if it was a common term, but we used to call the power plant location at HB "Stack Side."

We only surfed if it looked worth it. But I was most familiar with the Balboa/Newport/Huntington area.

That place used to rock in the late Sixties and through the Seventies. Surf City was party city too. And no one seemed to care. Police had a much more tolerant attitude then.

Do you remember when the Tower Records in Costa Mesa was a skating rink? I was a badass roller skater but kinda lost interest around the time I lost my cherry.I guess that's typical.

Used to eat at Mi Casa a lot. Also Rusty Pelican and Five Crowns. Was never into the Reuben E. Lee that much. When I was in Laguna we'd get burgers at Husky Boy's. This is when they were still good.

We often book Room 404 at the Laguna Riviera when we want a romantic getaway. It's a big suite with a private deck and terrific view of the surf. It has a full kitchen too. I love that place. I have so many terrific memories there. I get horny just thinkin' about it. The sound of the crashing waves is so sexy and inspiring.

With re: to Golden Bear: I saw Jerry there too. He was with Merl Saunders. I’m thinking 1974. I went a few nights. I think he played nearly a week-long engagement. I dug that band. Saw countless others there too.

Walt’s Wharf: We used to love to go there and sit upstairs. We’d order a couple of the large appetizer plates and drink expensive wine.

There was a clothing store across the street which sold O.P. shorts. I often got my husband O.P.’s there when we went to lunch or dinner.

Hubby has a great pair of legs and he never wears undies. The short O.P.’s don’t do a very good job of containing him. Purrfect.

I bought myself some too. A woman’s form in a pair O.P. shorts is delish, especially since we wear them a little higher on the waist. Those suckers definitely do not pass the “fingertip test” in any sense of the word.

Vickie Rock

buzzbabyjesus said...

I saw Jerry with Merle Saunders at the Golden Bear in 1974. We could have seen the same show. My only complaint was the sax player was too loud. "Saxophones are alright if you like New York" (spot the reference).
It used to be fairly easy to sneak in the back door. I remember seeing The Sons Of Champlin that way, but seems to me I got kicked out for being underage.
Prime rib at The Five Crowns was the bomb, as I recall.
Liqourice Pizza on Harbor Blvd was one of my main record stores. Also Music Market at Adams and Harbor Blvd. Earth River Records in Newport. In the early '80's I was turned onto a shop in Downey, by the Blasters, that had all the oldies on 45's.
I rode my bike to the beach, surfboard under my arm.
I used to go to the Quicksilver factory in Costa Mesa and buy seconds. It was right by the Sea Suit factory where I'd check the dumpster for big scraps of neoprene. We wore our wetsuits until they fell completely apart.

James Brown at the Coach House:
It was probably at his career nadir. The house was full, but not packed. He tore it up. I ended up dancing with a cute black girl right in front of him. He wasn't any further than 4 feet from us.
Since the stage was slightly raised I got a 20 minute shower of James Brown sweat.

Anonymous said...

Yes. I love the Sons of Champlin. Mainly for their concerts. What a great band! Whenever they come I try to see them. You just KNOW Bill Champlin was only in Chicago for the money. What a waste of his talent.

Sometime in the 1990's I made the mistake of talking to Bill Champlin's biggest fan. It was at the Wherehouse in Studio City. Man was this lady obsessed. Thirty seconds after I started talking to her, I knew I made a big mistake. Stupider yet, I gave her my phone number.

All she ever talked about was Bill Champlin and the Sons. I'd get calls from her saying she was depressed because the radio never played Bill's stuff. She was depressed all the time. It got too weird so I blocked her on my phone.

Every time I went to a show I did my best to avoid her. It made the experience less enjoyable to constantly have to be looking around for approaching lunatics. I'd give her name, but that wouldn't be very nice.

I haven't seen her at shows lately so either she moved or died. The Sons used to play third bill and blow the headliners away back in the late Sixties/Seventies. Nice guys too.

Saw them in the small bar at Humphrey's in San Diego a few years back. Great show.

Five Crowns: My dad used to take the family there. They hired very gorgeous well endowed women to wear those low cut renaissance fair waitress outfits. I'm pretty sure that's why he liked the place so much. He was definitely a boob man.

I love the shit out of my dad but he used to encourage me to enter wet T-shirt contests whenever we traveled as a family and encountered one. I never did. And he was serious. I guess he was proud. But I was pretty young and embarrassed.

Yeah, I'm a Prime Rib/Filet Mignon type of girl. Cue Jo Jo Gunne's "Red Meat." But I'm always up for a little surf and turf too.:-)

I didn't shop the Licorice Pizza at the beach. But I used to frequent the ones in Hollywood and West Covina. Patti Smith did a short parking lot show at the Hollywood location before her 1978 Santa Monica Civic show. Boy do I have some stories about that show and the day of.

I got to know the manager of the Licorice Pizza in West Covina. She was super cool. She was dating some guy who ran a ticket agency a few doors down. Since we were friends, she took care of me when I needed concert tix.

Later she and the guy who managed the Wherehouse in Pomona teamed up and opened a their own store in Chino called Primo Records. Their prices were ridiculously cheap and they sold bootlegs. Business was booming.

However, they were forced to close within six months. It was found out that they were back-dooring their inventory out of their previous corporate store locations with a little help from their friends. They both got arrested.

A twenty minute shower of James Brown sweat? Was it cold? Did that black girl you danced with have European features?

The most profuse sweater I ever saw was Lance Loud when he was in the Mumps. I saw them open for Van Halen at the Whisky circa 1977. At that point, the Mumps were actually pretty good live. I haven't seen anything online by them that compares. Lance would fling his head and buckets of sweat were coming off of him. The beads of sweat looked really cool in the spotlight and smoke. But yeah, we were wearing it.

You must be a pretty good surfer with all that experience. I'm pretty fair. I think Sandy is a little better, but not much. I never wore a wetsuit until much later. And then only about half the time I surfed.

Ever go to Hawaii? I have some old friends who moved to Kauai. That shit scares me when it gets good. Had a really bad wipe out there which freaked me out on surfing for a while.

Vickie Rock

Anonymous said...

Was quite the deadhead till they went to Arista Records. They lost their luster after that IMO. That's what got me into taping.

Saw them from 1968 to 1974 pretty regularly for their San Diego to Santa Barbara shows. Got a gazillion stories about that stuff.

The Hollywood Palladium shows with the NRPS in 1971 and 1972 were pretty memorable and famous. One of the guys taping was named Rob. Me and Sandy were standing nearby. Sandy and I had taken a couple of rainbows and had some pretty good Lebanese which we were sharing with the taper.

He taped the NRPS portion of the show too. If you listen real hard you can hear me talking to some clueless chick who asked me who their pedal steel player was. It's between songs somewhere. I kindly told her that it was Jerry Garcia. Then I had to further explain that he was the lead guitar and vocalist for the Dead.

I sound extremely mellow and loving to say the least. Obviously she was a newbie. You gotta really listen but its between songs during the NRPS set.

Also Sandy keeps shouting out "Only Daddy That'll Walk the Line." It's a crack up. They actually did it a bit later. Likely because of her persistent requests.

I don't recall Jerry & Merl having a sax player when I saw them. At least not at the Golden Bear. I know it was 1974 because it was just before I left to go to Michigan in the Fall.

Jerry did play in Laguna Beach with a sax player in 1975. That was the Legion of Mary line-up. Maybe Fiero was guesting with him for the ahow you saw.


Vickie Rock

buzzbabyjesus said...

It was definitely 1974 with Merle Saunders, and thinking about it, I'm guessing the sax player was sitting in, and that's why he was intrusive.

I don't remember much about the girl, I was there to see James Brown, after all. We never spoke, just danced for the last 20 minutes of the last set, and, of course I was lit.

I've put in my 10,000 hours of surfing, and on a good day I'm competent, but just when I think I'm okay, I'll randomly have a day where I don't get it together and get skunked. Back to square one.

I can't imagine encouraging my daughter to enter a wet t-shirt contest. She'd be mortified.

Anonymous said...

Yeah, surfing is that way. Probably more so than any other sport. It's kind of a transcendental thing. Sometimes the swami just isn't with you.

Guess you probably heard that there were riots at HB US Open thing yesterday. I went earlier in the week. The crowds just keep getting scummier and scummier. I was planning on going more days but was so put off by the jerks who attended that I didn't want to endure the finals. Modest Mouse was pretty good though.

Don't get the wrong impression about my dad, he's the best. My parents are only eighteen years older than I am. And they are super cool for people who grew up in the Fifties. Very multi-dimensional and ahead of their time.

buzzbabyjesus said...

When your Dad was encouraging you to enter wet t-shirt contests was an entirely different world than now.
Obviously you're an open, positive human being.

Anonymous said...

Yeah, the whole wet t-shirt thing has changed over the years. It used to be fairly innocent in the beginning.

It only involved soaking T-shirts. Girls that entered actually had the assets and some class. Of course it always was a cattle call of sorts, but when it went mainstream, it became totally skanked out and completely unsexy.

My family used to go to the Colorado River as often as we could in the Sixties and Seventies. We all loved it there. My dad had a ski boat and water skiing was a blast.

The River was a place where you could run wild. Seriously. There were no laws and no limits. It was the wild west on the water. The posers hadn’t started showing up yet.

By the late Sixties the whole bra-less thing was making a comeback. I enjoyed the liberation on a daily basis. I had a pretty nice pair of Carly Simon's years before No Secrets.

I used to water ski in a T-shirt and bikini bottoms. So, myself and lots of other girls at the river were literally walking around in wet T-shirts most of the day.

I can't remember whether it was Palm Springs or Parker Arizona where I saw my first wet T-shirt contest. I'm thinking 1969-1970. Like I said, it was just a natural progression from the way most girls were walking around a good portion of the day, anyway.

In those early days, the girls who entered the contest had Playboy Bunny bods. Anyone who didn't would be ashamed to enter. Nowadays any old bottom feeder sluts participate. It’s tough to find anything halfway to ten anymore and none of them have a bit of class.

My uncle dated a Playboy Bunny for a few years. She lived in the Inland Empire and went to the river with us a few times. Understandably, she won one of the contests. She was a total fox from her hair to her toenails. But many of the other girls were equally hot.

Her name was Nancy. And it wasn’t an “everyone knew her as Nancy” kind of thing. She was a class act. She had gorgeous auburn hair and was older than my uncle by a few years. I hung out with her a bit too.

We’d go club hopping in Hollywood. For a while she was like a big sister to me. Because of her status, she had access to some of the more private clubs in the area. Between the two of us, I’m not who corrupted the other more. I was super precocious. But from a legal and technical standpoint, she was the one contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Further proof that age is nothing but a number.

At any rate, that's the caliber of women who entered contests in those days. You had to have a pretty righteous set and everything else to even dare get up there. So, I guess my dad encouraging me to compete was pretty flattering.

I don’t remember there being any specific age requirement, but I was pretty young. Pre-driver’s license age. These early wet T contests were quite spontaneous, impromptu affairs. I don’t remember seeing anything even remotely officially sanctioned until the Sundance Saloon opened up in Parker in 1972. One way or another, dad obviously thought I could have been a contender.

Back then there wasn't a lot of overwrought posing and unsexy contorting going on. It was basically, get 'em wet, line 'em up, check ‘em out and voice your choice.

The women presented themselves with some dignity. That's definitely not the case now.

Vickie Rock

buzzbabyjesus said...

That's what I meant by an entirely different world.
I'm glad you came on the scene.
You're a blast.

Anonymous said...

Years later, when I was thirty and had two toddlers, my dealer boyfriend convinced me to finally take the plunge. It was the one and only time I did it. It’s not the kind of thing a girl like me wants to do, to say the least. I considered it stooping pretty low.

How did he get me to do it? He promised me a new Z28 IROC if I won. Knowing me, he was positive I wouldn’t do it under any circumstances. But, to his surprise, I called his bluff. IROC’s had just debuted at that time. I’m a car freak. I get it from my dad who trusted me driving his tricked out cars from the time I was fourteen.

Shit, I guess it’s true. Everyone has their price. But put in perspective, how base was what I did? My blouse never came off. It was just titillation.:-)

By that time wet T-shirt contests had turned into repulsive skankfests. Not as bad as today but well on their way. Luckily I was wearing a white gauzy button up blouse which was perfect for the occasion. I took my skirt and bra off and walked up in my blouse and undies.

I checked out the competition and they were all really substandard tacky sluts. I felt sorry for them and the obnoxious way they behaved. Is this what they thought men wanted? They looked and acted like revolting idiots up there.

Except for one, who showed some elan. She was quite voluptuous, but her boobs were ridiculously huge. She probably had to go to Twin Peaks for her bras. If the voters wanted well shaped knockers the size of bowling balls and a great body to go along with it, I was in trouble.

When the time came for me to get soaked, I used my past modeling experience to give the guys all the angles and a confident strut. I took a brief glance down and my blouse was perfect. My hard nipples poked wondrously against the sheer fabric. I carried myself like a cross between Sophia Loren and Rory Flynn.

I did not caress myself with my tongue hanging out. I did not make repulsive pelvic thrusts, like most of the others. I never flashed my boobs like them either. I just walked out with a confidant look that said you can look but you’re never gonna touch. It was classic prick tease. Always leave ‘em wanting more.

Fortunately they preferred my 100% natural orbs over “Mother Juggs'” amazing wonders. Mine were young and perky and had just the right amount of “more than a handful.” I’d like to think I won because I have a winning smile and twinkling eyes. Probably not, but it couldn’t have hurt.

Art triumphed over gluttony - Beauty over the grotesque - Class over unrefinement. This particular event even provided a trophy and a pretty creative one at that. It wasn’t something I ever put on display. It’s packed away in the garage somewhere for my kids to discover and laugh about when I die.

But the bottom line was that I was on my way to the Chevrolet showroom!!!! I couldn’t wait to get behind the wheel. I wanted to take it to my dad’s and make him drool.

Because of the type of “business” we were in we bought cars all the time, for ourselves and our runners. My guy had a dealer’s license to buy at auctions. But this was a new car.

Unbelievably we had to go to four dealers before we found one that accepted cash. At each one, my baby let me grind the salesman down to rock bottom price. Cleavage and superior intellect help. They figured they’d make it up on payments. But at the end of the haggling I whipped out cash.

Then they started to stutter and tell me that I didn’t really want to do that. But I did. Unfortunately the first three dealers wouldn’t take our cash money. You know things are fucked up when businesses would rather take a check or credit card than cash. We wanted to leave as thin a paper trail as possible.

Ultimately, at the fourth dealer, we succeeded. The sales manager said I really scored. He licked his wounds as he took our money. Back in 1985 I got a beautiful black Camaro Z28 Iroc-Z with all the extras for 8,000 dollars. I loved that car. And honey, I earned it.

Vickie Rock

Gotta run. Thanks for compliment