My Family – Train Show in York, PA – Friday – Part 1

I’m selling off your favorite stuff, dude. The jokes you used to make about me at your funeral blowing out your 260E Pre War O Gauge set on Ebay is happening! This isn’t vengeance. I’m helping my sister because I work in a sales job that allows me a flexible schedule. Janice needs this stuff away because we don’t know what to do with it. We miss you. We miss your voice, and your smile. We miss mom too. Let’s not leave her out of this.

Advertisements

Friday begins with me sitting in the lobby. Asians are gone. They must have found rooms for them all. Today is key. We’re here on day two and we need to hit it hard today.  Janice is on point as always and rolls into the lobby on time. It’s 8:30 and we need to get to the fairgrounds by 9:00am. Gotta get it done today. It’s critical. We don’t want to haul these trains back home with nothing to show for it but grinding failure. I know we’re both worried, but today’s a new day, and the sales guy in me is positive as usual. We’ll do what we have to do to move the product.

We hop in the SUV and head to the show. I hate this part of the country. Just lines of strip malls and zero culture. This place must have been something at one time.

Read more here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/York,_Pennsylvania

Apparently they have some decent history but I didn’t like that “Unchallenged Ku Klux Klan rallies” part. If for some reason I was banished to this purgatory I know within a month I would stuff a pistol in my mouth and eat a bullet just so I wouldn’t miss.

I love my father, but the audience that collects toy trains is for the most part a sick looking bunch. But he and his brither were true elegant collectors of the art and nostalgia that is toy trains. They would rip on all of these monsters just as hard as me and my sister are going to today and tomorrow.

We get to the hall before 9am and pull the sheets off the trains on our tables. But here’s the worst part. Before the show officially starts, everybody has to stop what they’re doing, and they make some announcements. Then they play the National Anthem. But they did that shit yesterday. It was painful enough to stand there with my hat off and my hand over my heart surrounded by these God-fearing, flag waving sheep and play along. but today they played this horrible sanctimonious defecation:

 

I just want to get a breakfast sandwich and start my fucking day here. But here I am standing around a bunch of redneck, inbred, nigger hating, Trump loving, fat, ignorant, fucking imbeciles and I have to act like I love America with the rest of you shits and all the shitty racist kids you’re going to make. This is a song that is just a huge pile of lies and when I put that gun in my mouth and pull the trigger the only thing that would make me happy that when the bullet exits my head taking everything with it that I am, that somehow by some miracle Lee Greenwood is standing behind me, and it hits him square in the fucking forehead for writing this steaming pile of feces.

I hate this place. My mission is to separate the targets from their cash, move the product and go.

I love this country, don’t get me wrong. But it’s a fucking toy show, not a Presidential Inauguration! Oh wait, that was a fucking joke too.

So that puppet show ends and I can finally get a shitty breakfast sandwich. I know by now I may have lost some followers but I don’t really don’t give a shit, but that’s what’s up people. It’s awful here. I don’t belong here. But we’re on a mission and I am the right person for this job. It needs to be done. Love and guilt and nostalgia aside, we don’t want to load 31 sets of trains back in the car and go home. We need to sell some stuff today.

I’m hanging at the table with Janice. It’s early. Will we get some nibbles? 9:30 comes and Jan sells a train. Small fish. $50. Then a dude comes by 15 minutes later and wants her O Gauge Comet. He says he’s been looking for it for 10 years. It’s a lovely little toy that looks like it’s been restored. The whole set is wrapped in newspaper and bagged up and sent to another family for $450. I watch as the man carries away a piece of my father’s history without his permission, but I know this puppy is going to a loving family and today that is all that matters. He’ll surprise his family and friends with this lovely little toy train and have a story to tell, and for this moment as my sister and I stand by and watch dad’s beautiful birds fly away, we can only smile. It’s going to a good home. It’ll run around the Christmas tree for the first time in forever. That’s what it was made for. To chug and puff and delight those around it.

Take it home, Sir.

I think of my father. All of his teachings and words, and ideas and all that is good, bad and wonderful inside of me as I stand here blowing out his train collection. I don’t know what Janice is feeling, but I know we’re both troubled. But we’re having a great time while doing it.

When do you get to hang out with your sister at middle age and go to what basically is a flea market and go sell a bunch of stuff for thousands of dollars? It’s surreal and elegant in the same moment. But as siblings, we’re close. Closer than we realized. Our lives have taken different directions, but like I always say, you can’t stop rock and roll, and Janice and I have a very rich history. Our family is strong and honest. We don’t need to be together all of the time to be close. This proves we were raised right. We can all be apart for long periods of time but when we come together we are money. That’s good parenting. All of my best friends are that way. I can not see them for years and when we hang, it’s right back to when we were kids again. That’s the real deal. Everybody wants that but not every family can achieve it. Some don’t even know what it is.

I’ve been around families and they don’t get it. You notice it mosly at the dinner table. The contrived conversation. It just never feels real. I noticed this when I was married to my ex. The whole conversation just sounded like a scripted dialogue over a shitty movie. What that means is that Dad is hiding something and you have all of these kids and the whole marriage is a sham. Yea. My In laws. I knew it. My Dad knew it. We discussed it but never told anybody. But that’s my ex in laws. Fuck them for now. Their great but their not in this story.

I can stand between three tables of my dad’s favorite stuff and make my sister laugh. I feel like that’s why I’m here more than to sell these lost antiquities. I could say I know how much she loved my father but that would be a fucking lie. Because no one on Earth will even know that.  That belongs to them. I don’t know that. My Mother doesn’t even get it. I understand all of the moving parts of this family because I have always stood on the outside. So the clarity is automatic. Funny… cast out but you get to see everything. I’m the only boy so Dad is going to tell me all of the shit he did and make me swear I never tell my sisters, but by telling me that shit it’s out there. You were a great dad but we all have feet of clay. We’re all even in the end. I’m going to end up where you are. Tell me everything. I’m you’re son. I love you. You have given me SO much. More than you can imagine. You’re the greatest man I’ve ever met and you used to hit me.

I’m selling off your favorite stuff, dude. The jokes you used to make about me at your funeral blowing out your 260E Pre War O Gauge set on Ebay is happening! This isn’t vengeance. I’m helping my sister because I work in a sales job that allows me a flexible schedule. Janice needs this stuff away because we don’t know what to do with it. We miss you. We miss your voice, and your smile. We miss mom too. Let’s not leave her out of this.

Remember the old 8mm film from before we were born that you guys made? It was an elegant home movie of mom pulling a box out from under the bed at Christmas and just pulling endless goodies out of it.  You guys were loving and playful back then. I like that couple. That’s a great film. I love that you had the movie camera and you did something cool with it. You were always a cool filmmaker. I’ll write about all of that at another time but I love that you made a fun surprise christmas movie with your wife. You loved her. I loved her. I miss her. She was amazing. She was tough and patient and tolerant and a good mom to me and my sisters.

But my sister and I am here in a place I would never want to go to voluntarily moving your most beloved possessions and you don’t even have a voice to help us do it. I know you want us to do it. But we could sure use your help, dad. This is your history. Your mythology. Janice and I are systematically dismantling and getting rid of all of your favorite stuff. I’m sorry, dad.

We loved you. We miss you. It’s hard for the senior members to go and do this to your stuff. I wouldn’t like it. If my daughter Lorelei let my 1979 Ibanez Iceman go for $200 I may rise from the grave and come after her in the afterlife. (I know she’s afraid of ghosts) But we have to deal with this.

But dad… This is just stuff.  You loved your trains. But the best part of your life was just what you said it was. Meeting Mom. Your kids and your books. You always told me that. Over and over again.

I know you suffered. I know you better than anybody. You love Jan, but I’m your son and I know I get all of the good and bad. I’m fine with that. I’ve had plenty of my own. I love you forever and forgive you as I hope my own daughter will forgive me for my feet of clay.

I was writing this tome to document an adventure that I got to have with my sister I never saw this coming. It’s a welcome surprise. I was praying the trip to York wouldn’t just be a transaction. I just want to understand more and go forward and be a better person.

Dad, don’t worry. We’re fine. I forgive you and you’re dead so I can’t worry if you forgive me. I just hope that you weren’t too disappointed in me. I tried my best and always tried to be true to myself.  I know I’ve made mistakes in my life when it came to matters of the heart. mine cost me $125K in child support, but at least you always told me your stuff and I really know you and what happened in your life to make you who you are.

I know you know that I’m more like mom’s side of the family. I appreciate all that you’ve done for me and I’m going to go forward in life and follow your message. The one you never got to fulfill.

“Go through life and hurt as little people as possible.”

Living it. Your grand-daughter Lorelei is away from her mother and has lived with me since half way through her senior year. She just got a raise at her job.

I know you liked Michelle. She moved to San Francisco and married her high school sweetheart.

“That never works.”

“You can’t say that, Dad. You’re dead.”

“Yea, I know, but that shit never works.”

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

My Family – Train Show in York, PA – Thursday – Part 3

It doesn’t matter what we ate or drank, it’s the time spent together and the words exchanged and the feelings felt and the shared experience of this one of a kind journey that will mark me forever.

So here we are on day one of this journey and we haven’t sold anything yet. We know our product is good but we haven’t had any offers yet.  But I’ve noticed that every time I leave the table to go to the bathroom or get something to eat or smoke a cig, a bunch of old dudes swarm our tables.

“Janice, I notice whenever I leave the table, a bunch of old guys come prowling around looking at the trains and chatting with you.”

“So?”

“Well maybe tomorrow we raise the hem on your skirt, or maybe put on a little lipstick, or open another button…”

“Are you pimping me out?”

“Do you want to sell these trains, or have to pack them all up and cart them back to the shore house?”

By this time she is laughing hysterically to the point of crying. I’ve always been able to make my family laugh and today is no different.

I’m learning more about toy trains than I ever knew before. One guy told me that the new toy trains have loads of electronics in them, so they’re nearly impossible to repair if something fails in the unit. In the old days, you could open the toy and repair the mechanics in a simple way.

During the afternoon this black guy stops by and checks out our trains. He’s especially taken by this set of Marx we have. It’s really a cute set of trains. It’s all in the original box. It even has the transformer and track. He tells me about when he was growing up the only toy trains his parents could afford were Marx. The Lionel and American Flyer were too expensive.

Now I get it. That’s why there are hardly any black people here at the this gigantic train show. African-Americans couldn’t afford train sets for their kids because they were too expensive. And when these toys were built black people didn’t have the opportunities they do now. They couldn’t justify spending $50 on a toy for their kid when they could get him five decent toys for them for that price. The Marx train sets were more affordable back then so that’s what they bought.

Interesting.

There are a lot of characters at York. This one particularly notorious one is a guy named Bo. He’s really rich and has tons of trains. He’s got like ten tables here at the show! He plays it like he doesn’t know stuff but he’s super shrewd and can’t be trusted. He comes over and looks at all of our trains and sees what he likes but acts like he’s unwilling to pay that much for any given train set. He’s knows exactly what they’re worth. He’s been in the business of train collecting for decades. My dad didn’t like him and neither does Janice. I think they just didn’t trust the guy. He just seems full of himself. Sort of a blowhard.

He starts telling me how much he liked my father and all to get into my good graces. He starts telling me a story about a friend who in 1975 bought a beautiful lithograph for $700. He later sold it for $2500 a few years later, but I guess missed owning it so he bought it back for $2700. Then Bo buys it from him for $3200 and decides to hold onto it for a while. Then many years later he sells it to some Wall Street broker, for $25,000!

I reckon he’s a guy who when he isn’t talking about himself, and trying to swindle trains away from hapless sellers, he likes to tell stories that involve money.

He continues to tell me he arrived earlier in the week and hung out with some of his friends. He said apparently one of his cronies, a guy that was around 70 had a stent near his heart. Apparently Bo doesn’t know what a stent is because he’s describing it to me and he’s getting it completely wrong.

The guy didn’t tell anybody he had a stent, and he went to dinner with Bo and the boys on Monday and after that the stent collapses and the dude dropped dead. Not really a good opening story when you meet someone for the first time.

Bo goes back to whatever hole he slivered out of, or maybe just back to his 10 tables full of trains. Some other guy (One of the good guys) comes over and puts his arm around Janice and says “Bo won’t try to steal from you, but he can be a ruthless wheeler-dealer. So beware.”

Janice knows Bo is a snake in the grass that will find a way to get what he wants at this show, but we’ll do what we can to fend him off.

Like I said before, there are several other halls on site that are full of dealers and trains, but for some reason they all close at 5pm, but the one we’re in stays open until 6pm. So once 5pm arrives, our hall is flooded with people from the other halls.

We get a sudden flurry of activity and start blowing out sets of trains. The blood scent is in the air, and people are giving us fistfuls of cold hard cash. It’s the strong close we desperately needed at the end of a somewhat abysmal first day out here.

We wrap it all up at 6pm and drive back to the hotel. I notice there’s a hot Puerto Rican girl working the front desk. All of the people who I’ve seen here looks so awful and old and fat, that she is a site for my sore phicklephilly eyes. She’s the first attractive woman I’ve seen all day. (Except for my sister because I know she’s going to read this!)

We check in and I see our hotel has a bar and grill so that’s clutch. We go to our respective rooms and we agree to freshen up and meet in an hour for dinner. Being on my feet and selling has taken a toll on me and I need to just chill for a bit.

My room is beautiful. Cool air conditioning is on and the room is tight. King sized bed, clean bathroom, and flat screen TV. I get a bucket of ice down the hall and fix myself a vodka club. I don’t have cable and don’t watch TV really, so I enjoy watching Nat Geo for an hour while I unwind and sip.

In a while I change and head downstairs to dinner with sis. We hit the hotel dining room. Food was okay. Janice said her asparagus were cold. We had some really great conversations about dad. It was all very heartfelt and I know the only person in the world that could fulfill this mission with me is my closest blood relative sitting across from me. I really admire Jan so much. More than she knows. She’s been through so much pain in this final odyssey, and hopefully this will give us all some more closure in the wake of our father’s death.  As guilty as we both feel selling off his beloved collectibles, we know they were HIS trains. He loved them. We kept what we loved, but there is just so much, it’s just a part of the estate that should be put in the hands of the living who love these trains. So maybe these toys actually get a second life.

It doesn’t matter what we ate or drank, it’s the time spent together and the words exchanged and the feelings felt and the shared experience of this one of a kind journey that will mark me forever.

After dinner we step outside of the hotel lobby and I have a smoke. Some Kenny Rogers type dude is just standing out there playing guitar. Where the hell am I? I miss the city. I can’t be away from Philly for very long. I need to get through this and get back to my city soon.

What was strange, was when we first came out here we noticed that the lobby was full of about 60 Asian people. I have no idea where they came from or why they were all camped out in the lobby. Maybe there was some other convention going on in town, but there was a busload of them in the lobby.

Jan heads up to her room for the night. I tell her I’m going to linger at the snack bar to check it out. I see the latin beauty is still working. She smiles at me and says hello. I need this. I don’t give a shit about the snacks. She’s a snack to me. I interact with lovely women everyday in Philly. In this wasteland of ugly I need a little fix before bed.

I introduce myself and she tells me her name is Angelica. (Of course it is. She’s an angel!) She says she’s only been working at the hotel for four days! I tell her that it was a wonderful hire on the part of the hotel. Angelica is like an ice-cold beer on a hot day in this godforsaken place.

At this point I wish she could give me some room service.

After some small talk with baby, I retire to my room because I’m a gentleman.

Tomorrow is another day of selling!

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly               Facebook: phicklephilly

My Family – Train Show in York, PA – Thursday – Part 2

My father loved Lionel trains. Lionel made the best toy trains. Then there was American Flyer. Their trains were okay, but just looked cheaper. Then there was Marx trains and they were even cheaper still. Lionel made the good stuff.

I know this’ll be a spectacular journey.  We arrive in York at the fairgrounds on time. There are some fields around, but we’ll be in one of several very large halls. There’s plenty of security and law enforcement out and about. I feel good about this because we’re hauling thousands of dollars in antiques into this hall and there’ll easily be millions of dollars in antique trains in this one hall alone.

Check it out: http://easterntca.com/

My sister hands me a badge I need to wear to get access to the show. It has her husband’s name on it. It’s paid for so I don’t care, I’m just here to help move these trains.

Janice parks and heads inside to look for the dude that hooked us up with the three tables, and where our tables will be. (Lenny)  I start to unload the containers and place them on the hand truck. I balance a good stack and roll it inside. I stop and say hello to Lenny and his wife and their chatting with my sister. Lenny shows me where our tables are and I dump the boxes on the floor (Not dump…gingerly place) and head back outside with the hand truck to get more. I’m assuming I’m the hired muscle for this trip. I’m kidding… Janice has put this whole operation together and literally has done everything to make this mission happen.

I get everything in and we start to unpack it. We meet the guys in the booth over from us. I suppose we should all be on good terms because we’re going to be spending the next three days as neighbors at this show. Janice introduces me by my real name, and the one dude asks why she calls me that if my badge says “Tim”. She tells him that’s her husband’s legit badge but he couldn’t come because of work, and I jumped in to help at the last-minute in the clutch. (Bold faced lie. We planned this a month ago.) The badge is paid for and I’m her brother. Close enough right?

This fucker waits until we get everything unpacked and set up on our three tables. The tablecloths, the 31 sets of trains set up. Everything in place. It’s a shitload of trains.

That’s when this piece of shit gets up in my face and tells me that if I don’t march right over to the main office immediately and pay for my own badge he’ll report me and we’ll have to pack up all of our shit and get out. And I’m like… what a cunt. But being the civilized man I am, I thanked him for helping out and spelling out the rules to me and to please direct me to where I should go to take care of that right away. What I really wanted to do, was throat punch this fucker and hide his body under our table. But again, we’re here to sell some trains, and I don’t want Janice feeling stressed. I’m a good diplomat and I’ve dealt with the likes of “walking piles of shit” like this before. I want to have a good time while I’m here and I don’t want any problems.

Once I step out of the building and start to walk across the field I can feel that this is going to be a good three days. I’m not even upset about that clown at all. I’m actually feeling kind of hungry, and this is a chance for me to eat.

The place is a sprawling property. There are several halls all with different things going on in them. I ask a couple of people where I go to get a registration badge and they direct me accordingly. Apparently “Sheriff Know It All” was wrong about where to go to get a badge. I am directed by some nice ladies in one of the buildings and I pay and show my ID and they make me a new one with my name on it. This whole process has taken about a half hour. But I got up way early today, and I don’t eat that much when I am traveling, and I’ve been cooped up in a car for the last two hours.

On the way back to our hall I decide to stop at one of the many vendors. I buy a hotdog and soda. It’s a lovely day. I need this fuel to get me through the long day ahead selling trains. I finish eating and light a cig as I walk back across the grass to the hall we’re in.

I wonder where all the black people are? I really haven’t seen any since I got here. I live in Philly and we have plenty but I haven’t seen any here. I wonder about this for a bit not knowing that the answer will reveal itself later today.

I get back to our table and my sister is sitting there and a bunch of old dudes are hanging out looking at our trains. They’re chatting with Janice and I’m hoping we sell some stuff.

Janice is super pissed at the douchebag next door to us. I tell her I’ve encountered worse and to let it go. Just because he’s alone and has a little dick he’ll always act like an asshole who will probably never get laid again if he doesn’t pay for it. We’ll just play nice and move forward.

Having never been to the biggest train show on the east coast, I didn’t know what to expect going into it. There is an enormous following connected to collecting toy trains. But who’s here selling stuff? Anybody that’s around my sister Janice and my age are probably the kids of the guy who collected toy trains and are simply liquidating an estate.

Most of the people here are mostly old men. Old guys collect toy trains from a bygone era. But here’s the thing. The people interested in these collectibles is slowly dying off. Once they’re all dead, this event will shrink to probably just one hall instead of five. I already heard several times that each year the attendance is going down. People are simply dying off and fewer people are collecting toy trains.

My father loved Lionel trains. Lionel made the best toy trains. Then there was American Flyer. Their trains were okay, but just looked cheaper. Then there was Marx trains and they were even cheaper still. Lionel made the good stuff.

It’s like when I was growing up. Mattel made the best toys. Their stuff was just superior to everything else. Hasbro? Kenner? Marx? Mostly crap toys. Lego and Tonka were pretty solid though. Same with the trains back in the day.

Let’s hope we sell some of this stuff today.

Tune in tomorrow for the continued saga.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly      Facebook: phicklephilly

My Family – Train Show in York, PA – Thursday – Part 1

Janice is the type of person that if shit’s going down, she’ll hold it all together for everybody and be fully prepared. Like, if there was a zombie insurrection, she’d have all the weapons, the transportation, the place we’re going to hide mapped out, and she’d even bring sandwiches in case anybody got hungry from killing the undead all morning.

I’m taking a break from the usual dating stories this week. I wanted to tell the story of when my sister and I went to the biggest toy train show on the east coast to sell off our collection of antiques. I loved writing this almost as much as I loved spending a few days with my sister. Her birthday is next week so this is my gift to her. Happy Birthday, Jan!

 

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this ever, but my parents have passed away. Lost Mom four years ago, and Dad two years ago. My father was a huge toy train collector.  His collection was brilliant. I’d say it was even nicer than the collection at the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad museum in Baltimore, Maryland.

But since Dad has passed, we’re stuck with all of these sets of trains that we don’t know what to do with. We kept the sets that had intrinsic value to us, but we’re going to sell the rest. What am I going to do with a bunch of toy trains? My daughter Lorelei isn’t interested in them, and neither am I. It was my father’s thing. It was fun running the trains around the tree at Christmas when I was a kid, but once we got our toys, we didn’t touch them again.

I have three sisters. Janice, April, and Gabrielle.  Jan is 18 months older than me, April is 4 years younger, and Gabbie is 8 years younger. So Janice has been the Matriarch of the family for several years. She’s a school teacher, and is very organized. She’s the type of person that if shit’s going down, she’ll hold it all together for everybody and be fully prepared. Like, if there was a zombie insurrection, she’d have all the weapons, the transportation, the place we’re going to hide mapped out, and she’d even bring sandwiches in case anybody got hungry from killing the undead all morning.

She’s really that good.

Janice goes to our house at the shore. She packs up 31 sets of antique trains. There are many more sets, but these are just the antique trains. (The really old ones) She brings a price guide and finds the current value of each set and prices it into a range where we could sell them based on their value and condition. I will just say, all of my dad’s stuff is nice. He never bought any “rats” as he called them. Rats are beat up old trains that are not in good shape. Like comic book collectors, most people want stuff that’s really nice.

She asks me if I can go with her to the biggest train show on the east coast to try to sell some of the trains. I leap at the opportunity. She knows I have mad selling skills and will blow out as many sets as possible, and we’ll make a nice chunk of change.  Plus, with someone else there with her, it just makes the day better.

Many years ago, Janice would go to York with my father. My Uncle would go with them as well. It was like a big party. They’d get a table and buy and sell trains. My dad and my uncle loved toy trains. Janice loved my dad and was instrumental in helping him acquire some of his collection. I never went to York until this final trip. I had no reason to. I would have been bored out of my mind, and besides, I had zero interest in toy trains. (However, I loved my late Uncle. He was my dad’s brother and was one of the coolest, funniest, and smartest men I’ve ever met.)

The show runs for 3 days. A friend of the family and fellow train collector, hooked us up with three tables, so we can fit a load of trains on them at the show. Janice has thought of everything. She wraps all of the trains in paper and packs them into big plastic containers for easy transport. Her husband loaded it all into his SUV and even included a hand truck so it would be easy to roll all the boxes into the hall when we got to the fairgrounds in York.

Janice lives an hour or so away from me in New Jersey. The SUV was packed the night before. She wants to be in York by 9:00am. She leaves her place around 6am and then drives up to Philly and picks me up at 7:00am. So she’s already been up for hours by the time she reaches my place.

She texts me that she hit a bunch of morning traffic coming up Route 42 in Jersey.  This adds another 25 minutes to her trip, but the show doesn’t start until 10am. We’ve got some wiggle room. By the time she gets to my place it’s 7:30. Her vehicle is packed with so much stuff I have to jam my suitcase behind my seat. There was literally nowhere else to stick it.

I’m happy to see her. Janice lets me know that we can stop anytime I need to and she has snacks. (Prepared for my usual travel anxiety!) I tell her I’m all good, and off we go to York!

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly                 Facebook: phicklephilly

Tales of Rock – Metallica Turned Down Les Claypool Because of what?

Les strolled into the audition wearing skater pants and two different-colored shoes, and sporting a blond mohawk.

Metallica have enjoyed a storied career of playing amazing metal that graduated into boring dad rock, and part of the reason for their success is that they have always been very business-minded. Too business-minded for the crazy antics of iconic Primus bassist (and the guy who sings the South Park theme) Les Claypool, at least, who once upon a time was a hair’s breadth away from becoming the band’s newest member.

When Metallica was looking for a new bassist after the tragic death of Cliff Burton, guitarist Kirk Hammett suggested his old high school buddy Claypool try out for the vacant position.

But when Claypool was approached, he wasn’t really all that interested. Claypool later claimed to have had no idea just how big Metallica actually was, despite the fact that this took place in 1986, the year Metallica’s album Master Of Puppets was released (AKA the year that everyone knew who Metallica was). But to the legendary bassist, the group was simply his “buddy Kirk’s band,” which might be why he showed up to the audition dressed like an at-risk teen, strolling in wearing skater pants and two different-colored shoes, and sporting a blond mohawk. Although for Claypool, this was a conservative “job interview” outfit.

While Claypool showed up looking like he was really into Pac-Man and NOFX, Metallica’s boys were decked out in black and taking this session as seriously as an anti-piracy lawsuit. Claypool claimed that vibe was too much for him, and that he just didn’t gel with the band. However, Metallica’s frontman James Hetfield gave a much kinder reason for Claypool’s failed audition: Claypool was just too good. Either way, Claypool’s style certainly didn’t mesh with Metallica’s, and we were forever robbed of one of the most bizarre metal albums ever recorded.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

 

Confusion reigns in the house of Jad!! — Sensuality, Sex & Something else

Dear readers…when I began writing this blog I had just recently embarked on a journey of incredible discovery…the discovery that chocolate is NOT better than sex. My goal has always been to provide an open, honest, witty, lighthearted insight into what goes on in the mind of a slightly quirky, fun loving, batshit crazy, sexually tense woman who just […]

via Confusion reigns in the house of Jad!! — Sensuality, Sex & Something else

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish Monday through Friday at 8am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

Alice – 2012 to Present – Brunch

I wait by the door and after a few minutes, a dainty hand reaches out the door and hands me her dress.

I was already having a good weekend. My friend Alice texted me and asked if I wanted to join her for brunch on Saturday. (See: Alice – 2012 to Present – The Cute Recruiter) I was basically rolling out of bed and her timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

Can I just say that I’m honored at 55 to be texted by an attractive 25 year old girl to go hang out and have brunch. She was making six figs in her early twenties as an IT recruiter for several companies. She got me my job at the liquor magazine to sell advertising. She made money from my hire. Alice is a deadly recruiter. That’s why she owns her own company now at 25.  She’s got the investors and they are seriously growing. She’s a good human being. She’s taken her licks and learned some lessons but she continues to go forward and kill it. I love and admire her for that. So like I said, I’m honored to have drinks with her at Locust Rendezvous and play quizzo, and eat wings and drink beer, or have brunch with this wonderful young lady.

Seriously, what 55-year-old single man is THE choice to have brunch with a beautiful 25-year-old girl?

Be an honorable man and a father and you’ll reap what you sow in this life with all of the people in your life. Young and old, male and female.

Balance.

I’m just happy to be surrounded by good hard-working stable people who are building businesses like myself and going forth in their lives.

Thank you Alice, for your continued friendship. You’re keeping me young!

Oh… One more thing. Did I mention Alice has gotten an apartment in the city. She’s broken away from the suburbs and moved downtown. She can walk to work! She’s in the city! I love it. She isn’t so good at navigating Philly yet, but we’ll help her. She’s been great at navigating everything else in her life so far, so I know she’ll be fine.

We met at Marathon on 19th and Spruce. Basically two blocks from my house. It wasn’t raining at the time so of course I left my umbrella home. The place wasn’t crowded or too noisy so I was happy. I forgot that Alice had broken her foot playing softball and watched as she hobbled in walking on her air cast.

Service was on point and the food was good. Alice went on about her latest relationships. For a girl who is CEO of a recruitment firm she sure meets a lot of men. Her latest is an artist that is pretty well-known in the city. From what she’s told me, he seems very nice. She did tell me that she recently learned that he has a 7-year-old son. She also told me this guy she’s seeing smokes cigarettes. Normally, that’s a deal breaker for Alice, but she really likes him, and he says he wants to quit.

They all say that.

“You know how much I hate smoking!”

“Yes, Alice. You’ve made it abundantly clear to me on many, many occasions.” I groan.

We also discuss how her former friend and employee, Keila has been a piece of shit to her. Alice says that in their last exchange, Keila was so mean. I told her to block her on all social media and on her phone. Keila is a crazy asshole that karma is going to eventually come back around and get her for the evil she has committed against Alice. Fucking ungrateful whelps! She’s get hers. (See: Keila – 2012 to 2017 – The Gaza Stripper)

Alice says that she already has cut her off for good.

After brunch Alice tells me she wants to go tanning. We start walking towards the salon, but it starts raining. We stop at the restaurant, Parc to stand under one of their awnings. I ask one of the servers if he has a plastic bag. Alice is worried her cast will get wet and she doesn’t want that to happen.

They guy hands me a big trash bag. I rip it in half and fashion a little booty out of the lower part of the bag. I wrap it around the cast and then tuck it into it. Now she looks like a homeless cripple in a blue dress.

We make it over to the salon, and she slowly climbs the steps. (There are 30 steps to the salon) When she finally get there I introduce her to Achilles, who is working today. Her dress is soaked. I send her back to one of the lay down beds in the back. I wait by the door and after a few minutes, a dainty hand reaches out the door and hands me the wet dress. The door closes and I walk to the laundry room and throw it in the dryer.

I know when her session will finish. (12 minutes later) Which is just long enough time for her blue dress to be completely dry. I grab it from the dryer and walk back to her room.

“Alice. I got your dress. It’s all dry.”

“Awesome. Thanks!” The little hand pops out from around the door and grabs the garment.

After that she went her way and I had to get to Suburban Station to meet up with a Cherie.

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly                            Facebook: phicklephilly