TOOL, SCREECH AND OTHER OBSERVATIONS...

Well, saw Tool.

That's kinda underselling the experience. We saw Tool from the front row. I wasn't really sure what front row tickets felt like and thanks to the wonderful people at the label, I got to experience that. Here's the thing, when you get too close to the stage, firstly, earplugs are not necessary, they're essential. And secondly, as it relates to the audio setup which Tool employs, when you're on the front row, you can't hear a lick of the vocals. I told the troops that I didn't really care about the vocals because I didn't know the words anyway, but feeling entitled to every seat in the house (because our tickets entitled us to the best), we moved back a few rows and it fixed the audio problem. It didn't, however, fix the fan problem. Man, I've never seen a more rabid fan base in my life. I mean, it was intense. After the show, when we were existing the arena, this dude behind us (for no explanable reason) just lets out this curdling grunt and holler. I suppose he was so pumped that he just saw Tool that the experience was worthy of a animalistic yell. I've never been that excited after a show.

Angry Tim was schooling me on the fans at a Tool show. He said they could generally be split into three different types. First, you have your metal head. See below right.


It's older metal heads and younger metal heads. You got Iron Maiden fans and you have Norwegian death metal fans alike, joining hands and rocking their brains out. Normally, they're not as happy as the guy we see above. The older ones usually wear tight-fitting jeans and have some sort of conditioned curl in their hair. The younger ones drag their knuckles and, like the fella behind us, scream uncontrollably. I feel safest, however, around this group. That says alot about our next two.

Then, you have (as Angry Tim describes it), the "kid who just crawled out of their parent's basement."

The one you see here is also an Insane Clown Posse fan. They like to play dress-up and act unruly. You can find them vandalizing dumpsters, terrorizing their little brothers and kicking holes in vending machines. A few key visible characteristics about these fellas. You'll spot them by their pants that have cuffs with the dimensions of a waste size (and lots of zippers!) and the colorful, clown hats. They like to look menacing, but no one's really afraid of them. This fan, however, is deathly afraid of reality and responsibility. That's why they still live in the basement. And I'd be more afraid of them if they wore that garb with the face paint to, let's say, the bank or a toy store, but they ain't having it. This is how they go to concerts and that's the only time they feel comfortable wearing it. Oh yeah, these dudes buy mad product too. They can be suckered into the purchase of anything. They're the driving force behind Tool's astronomical first week of 550,000 units moved.

Then, you have the frat boy.

He follows the trends. Tool is an outlet for his aggression. Also in his arsenal of music is Snoop Doggy Dogg, Pantera and the Forrest Gump soundtrack. If you made him choose between Tool and women, he'd choose women everytime. He really just fills the seats out at a show like the one in Oklahoma City. These fellas are the reason that Tool tours because they can sell them a ticket and eight $6.00 beers. And they'll get a cut of that concession. Oh yeah, the beer's not real in OKC, but don't tell anyone because there'd be a massive uprising.

So there you go. And speaking of tools. What's up with Screech? Saw a clip of him on his new show, Celebrity Fit Club. The dude went straight butthole. I mean, the dude was completely out of line--mouthing off at Harvey the Drill Sargeant, insulting the cast (including Cledus T. Judd, Warren G, the gay fella from the "Tonight Show," Marsha Brady, Da Brat and others), and dude gained five pounds between weigh-ins. Whatta winner this dude is. I told my wife that he probably lacked a good family foundation during his time on the show and was not equipped to recognize the difference between Screech and his life outside of the show so he grew up to be a very mean Screech that lashes out at people because no one will date him. And Lisa Turtle now doesn't feel sorry for him, she hates him. It's too bad. He'd be the life of the party if he wasn't such a cold-hearted moron. And his standup sucks.

Roundhouse's first season of the summer is dragging to an end. We got whooped twice by the same team which would prove their supremacy in our league, but we probably scrapped together enough wins to make it into the tourney. We're 6-3 in the league with one game left. I'd like our chances better if we were 7-2, but we went flat for three straight games proving you can't sleep in this league. It's a good league though and the competition is more equal to our skill level. The umps still suck, though, and their bad calls can decide a game--something I've witnessed on both the winning side and the losing side about six times this year.

Yanks and Sox are battling it out these next two days in the World's Largest Toilet Bowl. Yanks won last night, 6-2. Still, we're maintaining a 9.5 game lead on 'em. I could care less about having the best record in baseball, just so long as we're ahead of the Yanks. I'll take my chances with the rest of the AL East this year, from what I've seen so far. I'll probably be eating those words come September.

I wonder now, if Johnny Damon ever regrets his decision to leave the Sox. Eh, probably not. I bet the money is medication enough. Good for him.

Tucker's taken to humping Jackson wildly. I've been asked to shame his sexuality and let the dude know, "This will not be tolerated." My lovely wife brokedown last night and said, "It's not about his sexuality, it's about being the alpha dog." From my observation, I don't think Jax cares that much. In fact, it looked like he didn't mind it at all. I suppose we need to worry as much about Jax. We'll get it fixed before our first dinner party, though. We need to be able to ensure our guests that this is a hump-free zone. And it will be.

The "Bachelor" is finally over. I'll never listen to anyone insult my choice of television viewing again after watching segments of this sad network bowel movement. It was horrible. Every show seemed to last two hours it was only a ploy to sell more advertising. At least, with C.O.P.S. you can say that the material speaks for itself and they're not trying to juice advertisers to buy more spots. Quality sells itself and in thirty minutes, you'll find more entertainment then in an entire season of the "Bachelor." I don't know if I'm happier that it's over or that it's over. Probably that it's over.

Speaking of over, I'm out. Time to go to work and make that bacon.