Curse Of The Deuce

Due to my recent travails, you would expect ole Wheelgun Bob's blog output to suffer. Two things to say about that: 1. Don't worry about me 'cause I'm sporting a serious pair. 2. My blog output wasn't great to begin with. As a matter of fact, I will endeavor to increase my online wordsmithing since my constitution is too delicate to go back to work just yet and I need the therapy. In other words – you, my dear readers, will be the beneficiaries of my unfortunate condition.

Despite my doctor's strenuous objections, I decided that I should try and play my band's October 5th show if it's still available. So I left a message for our drummer Rodger (A.K.A. “Country” Ben Redl) concerning potential practices for the gig. He returned my call the next day and said that Jupiter 2 could still play the show but we would need a different drummer. I thought what Rodger meant was that he had wised up and quit the band (as he has done before). But the real reason he can't play is just that – he can't play. And I don't mean lack-of-skill can't play either. Seems Rodge came out on the wrong end of a scooter vs. truck smack down.

I let Rodger know in no uncertain terms that having a smashed left arm and right hand is a pussy excuse for not being able to drum. I mean the fucker could still keep time with his kick drum, couldn't he? All that other shit he does is superfluous anyway. I'm sure I could fill in any gaps with my gorgeous guitar renderings or Tom could extend his theremin stylings. Or we could add some eefing and hamboning. It's all about ambient music design in our band anyway.

Rodger did make a good point. There is definitely a Jupiter 2 curse. First our lead singer Tom almost croaks from a heart attack, I have my One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest moment and now Rodger can't even wipe his own ass let alone perform a simple flam or paradiddle. What's next? Good thing we don't need to fly on any airplanes.