April 28, 2008
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Well today I had my first gig. That’s right, I got to perform the funeral songs that I wrote live in front a full audience at a funeral. Oh sure, there maybe have only been 11 people there (and that includes the corpse) but a gig is a gig, right? I got there and some dope dressed up like a minister yammered on for what seemed like forever about God this and heaven that and how the dead dude had come to accept his demise and got himself right with the lord. I guess he had died of some sort of blueberry infection or maybe it was a car accident or perhaps even choking on one of those new gold $1 coins, I don’t know I really don’t pay attention to details. The important part was that he was dead and the family responded to my internet ad giving me my first gig. Haven’t seen the ad? How the hell could you miss it, I did some mass promotion it was popping up everywhere and in all sorts of emails. Shit, I guess I probably should have advertised on some porn sites, I know people use those. Anywho, here is the ad:
“Have you recently lost a loved one? Is the pain more than you could bare? Or maybe your close relative just died and you are about to CAAAAA-CHING!!!! Hit the jackpot! Either way, let Unkee Mike’s Timely Funeral Songs say how you feel in a way that you never can. Not dead yet but planning on dying sometime soon? Why pay some over priced bitch ass lawyer tons of money to express how you feel. Just say it in song to everybody who pretended enough to care about you to show up to your funeral. With Unkee Mike’s Timely Funeral Songs, you get the time and semi-loving care that you think you deserve. Order now and we’ll throw in our internet only special: The Final Fuck You! a song dedicated to the person you hated the most in your life. Unkee Mike’s Timely Funeral Songs: Because your family shouldn’t have to worry about entertainment at a time like this.”
Isn’t it a great ad? See, I knew you would like it. So this family contacted as soon as their dad died, even before the coroner had a chance to violate his dead body. They were also very excited that they had the honor of being my first gig. They wanted a small service but that didn’t stop people from trying to get in. Hundreds of people were banging on the doors of the church trying to get in. Tickets for my first gig or “funeral session” as its being called on the internet, were going for over $500 on StubHub. Still, the family stood strong and refused to let any of them in. Besides, it didn’t matter to me as I found a way to have a live feed so that it could be streamed live on the internet and on closed circuit tv across the country.After the deacon priest minister dude did his thing, it was my turn to shine. They announced my name and I went up there with my back up band, The Pallbearers. Since there were no hills in the area, we started off with “Now He Burns”. Well, I guess the dead dude’s son hadn’t heard my stuff. At first I thought he was crying out of sadness but I quickly found out it was due to rage. The lit candle he throw at me confirmed his rage. No need to worry though, I was able to dodge it and it only took out my bass player. I turned around to start the next verse and next thing I know his son tackled me. Normally I don’t mind being tackled, except that I fell backward and knocked into the priest dude who was trying to get hammered on the sacramental wine. The wine went flying out of his hands and into the coffin, landing on the corpse’s head, spilling down into his shirt. This was a big problem, I mean, after all, nothing gets wine out of a dress shirt as it stains like a motherfucker. By now the family was in complete hysterics, people screaming and yelling and crying, except for his 21 year old niece. In the midsts of all the chaos, she was getting double fucked by the drummer and one of the alter boys. It was really quite the scene.
Things were really getting out of control when out of nowhere the Hells Angels showed up. What were the Hells Angels doing there? Well they were playing bingo in the church’s gymnasium and you know the Hell’s Angels, they are never ones to miss out on a good funeral fracas. They came racing in to save the day, breaking up the fight. Oh and they robbed the corpse blind in the process.
So that’s the end of my first gig. I certainly hope things get better from here. I certainly don’t want to get a reputation. I mean, having only 11 people at your first gig can be a lot to overcome especially if two of the eleven are dead (the Hells Angels beat the son to death).
Comments (3)
I wrote this comment in response to your comment on my blog, but that was before I read this entry. Just KNOW I will have a funeral song, to the tune of “Down on Grandpa’s Farm” from one of the Barney DVD’s soon.
Here’s the serious comment I wrote:
That’s absolutely my take on it, Bubba. Hell exists, but nobody ever goes there. Because if they did, the total redemptive value of Jesus would be for naught. Jesus said, “In my Father’s kingdom there are many mansions.” Maybe that means Judas, Hitler, Bush, etc., get studio apartments, while the great saints get villas with spas and lots of rooms with great views. Just as I refuse to accept the idea that a loving God could create a man or woman homosexual, only to condemn that person to hell for being what He created them as being, So, too, do I refuse to accept that anyone has never, ever done some good in his/her life.
I mean, consider Judas. If there had been no Judas, would there have been a crucifixion and redemption? No.
I think so much of what we Catholics have been taught is bullshit and logically inconsistent within the theology of the Catholic Church as to be ludicrous. And I don’t say this on my own authority. I say it on the authority of the great Catholic theologians that the Church has tried to surpress.
I’m convinced Benedict, XVI, John Paul I, Paul VI, and Pius XII, are/were gay. I don’t care, except insofar as B16 condemns gays. The other recent gay popes didn’t. As far as I know, the straight ones [John, XXIII and John Paul, II] never seriously brought it up. Actually, B16 doesn’t condemn gays right out. He only condemns gays acting gay. That’s a subtle distinction, and I attribute that to the growing acceptance of homosexuality as a valid orientation all over the [European] world.
I don’t know where this is going, but it’s got to end sometime. And this might be a good place to do that.
Here’s the funeral song for Grandpa, based on the song “We’re on Our Way” from a Barney DVD. My granddaughter and I (and my wife) sing this often when we’re on our way to visit Liza’s Great-grandmother. The words are different, obviously.
Down on Grandpa’s Farm
We’re on our way,
We’re on our way,
We’re on our way to Grandpa’s farm,
We’re on our way,
We’re on our way,
We’re on our way to Grandpa’s farm.
Down on Grandpa’s farm, there’s a really big stench,
Down on Grandpa’s farm, there’s a really big stench,
The stench that makes us say “pee-hew.”
The stench that makes us say “pee-hew.”
We’re on our way,
We’re on our way,
We’re on our way to Grandpa’s farm,
We’re on our way,
We’re on our way,
We’re on our way to Grandpa’s farm.
Down on Grandpa’s farm, there is a withered old man.
Down on Grandpa’s farm, there is a withered old man.
He makes us gag and wretch.
He makes us gag and wretch.
We’re on our way,
We’re on our way,
We’re on our way to Grandpa’s farm,
We’re on our way,
We’re on our way,
We’re on our way to Grandpa’s farm.
Down on Grandpa’s farm, there is a really deep hole.
Down on Grandpa’s farm, there is a really deep hole.
Get him in that hole at once.
Get him in that hole at once.
We’re on our way,
We’re on our way,
To home from Grandpa’s farm.
We’re on our way,
We’re on our way,
We’re on our way home from Grandpa’s farm.
His farts smelled better than him,
His farts smelled better than him.
Bye, Grandpa, I love you.
I’m sorry the format of that song didn’t translate the way I wrote it. I wrote in in Word, and I guess you can’t post Word format to Xanga. That’s bad.