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	Wisdumb
	Old School - A ruler across the knuckles (04-16-07) I feel like it was 8th grade. I still feel like it is 8th grade sometimes. I believe the year was 1980. I was feeling pretty cool because I went to my first punk rock show, chaperoned by the paramedic who scraped me off the ground when I broke my leg the 2nd time. He would also serve as chauffer and body guard to get my friend and me through the night unscathed. We arrived at Perkin’s Palace in Pasadena to see the Plasmatics. The same night Black Flag was playing at the Santa Monica Civic Center but we essentially chickened out. In Spanish class that morning, Jennifer Janis announced that she was a Plasmatics fan while Samantha was partial to the Germs. Both girls were hot, and both stayed home that night because the thought of asking them to join us never crossed my mind. But c’mon, we were all 13, you fking perverts! Lance, the non-gay paramedic despite his name, drives an ambulance like a maniac for money. Since no cop would give him a ticket, he drove nearly the same in his little Celica down the streets and freeways of LA with total impunity and disregard for traffic law. Heavy metal from KMET provided the soundtrack from HELL. It was a glorious Beavis and Butthead moment. We get to the place and look at the big line of gnarly punks, thugs, new wavers and metal heads. I take the little boyscout knife out of my pocket and toss it in the planter by our car because “what the fk am I thinking??” We go up to the balcony and watch the movie playing of the band wrecking a bunch of cars in the desert. Bitchin’! Clueless, I wonder if we are going to see a band or just a movie. Luckily the band takes the stage and begins terrorizing. Two massive walls of 4x10 speaker cabinets reach the sky that would make Slayer proud. The crowd goes nuts. The singer posed for playboy and now was belting out lyrics with a big Mohawk, no top and lots of whip-cream, for modesty. In between songs they took a moment to destroy something; chainsaw through a guitar, sledge hammer through a TV, broken potted plants(!) while an old Cadillac sits illegally parked onstage. The mosh pit was not one of those happy circles you see nowadays full of pretty-boys with shaved chests, fresh from the frat house. It was one massive, relentless, churning cauldron of fists, elbows, spit and boots. At one point there was a writhing ball of about 8 guys all pounding on each other. I shook in my balcony seat pondering how they stood between us and our car. At that point, in between songs, Wendy O Williams took out what looked like 3 sticks of dynamite with a big fuse. She lit the fuse and dangled it over the crowd. Luckily no one snatched it from her. She then threw it in the front seat of the Cadillac. The guitarists stood/hid in front of the speaker wall. Lance covered his ears, so we did too. The show was loud, but when that thing went off, it made quite a thump, blowing the cab apart and launching the roof about 3 feet in the air. I suspect some parts were pre-cut, but who gives a $hit!?! When the show ended, we poured out onto the stairs outside and shuffled to our cars. We thought the show was great. It was also very popular with local law enforcement, which showed up in at least 8 squad cars and 2 helicopters. They were clearly concerned with making sure we all got home safe despite the temptation to catalyze a riot where none existed. Feeling pretty hot with a serious gig under my belt, I was excited to be invited to a party at my friend Jason’s house. You know the story; dad’s out of town so it is time to have a keg party with a band. The party started early in the late afternoon as I rode my bike to his house, down the alley in south Manhattan Beach. On the way, some older punk thugs yelled at me to “cut my hair”. I thought “excellent, I must be near!” I pull up to Jason’s house and there are some older dudes I sort of recognize from High School and a bunch of spoiled punks from Palos Verdes. I am a freshman in high school and wanting to go on all the rides. They have a razor out and are aggressively giving free haircuts. Recalling the earlier fashion advice I got on the ride over, I sat right down to show I was a team player. He did a fine job, up until the point where he was technically done, and then proceeded to gouge the back of my head leaving a big bald spot. I figured I got off easy and cruised around. The keg was out back and the band was setting up in a small room downstairs. The name of the band was Con800 and was Fletcher Dragge’s band before Pennywise. It was the real deal. Everyone was pretty amped. They tore through about 6 songs and all hell broke loose. The keg went through the window, hands pulled down bookshelves, fists went through walls, a stout dude went right through a door, leaving a hole Scooby Do- style, the shape of his body. Outside, chunks of the street went through the windows. I was trapped in a corner in the small ‘wet-bar’ downstairs, $hitting in my shorts, totally forgetting my shiny bald spot. This was a premeditated house-wrecking party and I clearly didn’t get the memo. I run outside and some girl grabs my hand and we run for it. Later, we return and see at least 6 cop cars. We go upstairs and help clean up. It is a lost cause, because how do you ‘clean up’ a broken window or a door with a punk rocker shaped hole? This random girl and I walk to my house and say hi to my mom. That went well, I suppose. My brother snickered at my new haircut, while secretly envious. I told my mom we were going back out for a bit more because it still was before 10pm. The girl and I kissed, for about 2 seconds, which directly added to my lifetime kissing achievement record of about a minute and a half. Jason ran away from home for a while but came back because his dad forgave him. I used an ink pen to try to make my new bald spot less visible for school. It didn’t work. I called that girl back to see if she wanted to ‘hang out’ but she said she was sick. I quietly suspected she was lying. more stories >>