Killer Weed

by

Scott Colbert

When you kill your best friend, then he ought to stay dead.

If he had, I might have a better than snowball’s chance in hell of surviving. I didn’t pay much attention to him at first; after all he was never right in the head. I can say that, because, we’ve known each other since…well hell I don’t remember not ever knowing him. When I call him my best friend I don’t say it lightly. We’d both been through life’s grinder one too many times, and the shit storms we survived, brought us together. We were survivors, so it was a goddamn shame what I did but there was no choice. The bastard tore off my nut and ate it like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. I’m getting ahead of myself though, let me start at the beginning while I have time.

Like most summer days in Phoenix it was hot as fuck. Even my cat wasn’t demanding to be let out. Any other day, you would have found me at work around that time but I’d gotten suspended for excessive lateness. See, that still doesn’t make sense to me; not that it matters since there’s no job to go to anymore.

I was lying on my couch, half asleep and half listening to Montel kiss Sylvia Browne’s fraudulent ass. “It won’t be like anything else…” I heard her declare in that raspy smoker’s voice.

Looking back, I can say that’s the only thing she got right. Anyway, I’m in that twilight area of awake and sleep when the coffee table begins vibrating. I reach over, knocking the overflowing ashtray over as well as some empty packs of smokes and God knows what else onto a carpet that’d seen better days.

A blinking light. A text message. I mutter some random obscenity, flip open the phone and read the only two words on the screen.

U awake

One contemptuous sigh later I text back

NO.

I’d barely snapped the phone shut when an a familiar knocking came from the front door. Detta, my cat, hightailed it to the bedroom to cower in the corner. I yelled for him to come in while I sat up and pushed my erection back into my boxers.

The door opened slowly. Johnny boy peered in. “You awake?” he asked, stepping inside.

“I’m smoking’ ain’t I?” I said, lighting a Camel to prove my point. This earned me his patented eye roll. Shrugging off his backpack, Johnny boy coiled his too thin frame into the rickety rocking chair he’d built. Sweat trickled down his long face creating a glossy sheen.

“Didn’t wanna wake you up.”

When I caught him looking at my crotch, he glanced away.

“So what’s up?” I asked. Then just to be a prick I added “Besides me.”

Johnny boy smirked. He reached over the right side of the rocker and lifted his back pack as if it had nothing in it. I knew better and would have bet dollars to donuts there’d be some clothes, a day timer, books and whatever secrets he didn’t want anyone to find, including me.

Before he could play show and tell, I smelled the cloying earthy scent of pot. This wasn’t just any weed though; this was some primo shit.

All I could manage was a whispered “Holy fuck.” What he pulled out was not one but two Ziploc freezer bags filled with the greenest pot I’d ever seen. My first thought was luminescent emeralds.

“Stick your nose in that shit.” he said with a grin, tossing a bag over. Fact is, I didn’t need to stick my nose anywhere, the odor was so potent. “My brother Donald got these at work.” Already his fingers were poking and prodding in his bag, searching for the perfect bud.

“Lot of good this’ll do me,” I said, setting the bag aside, which caused Johnny boy to give me a weird look. “I have to go for a piss test tomorrow before I can go back to work…” The annoyance and frustration were getting stronger.

“What the hell? They suspended you for being late all the time, not for smoking a one hitter. Dude, that’s fucked up.”

All I could do was shrug. “I know-HR is full of douche bags, what can I say?” I picked the bag up again and kept turning it over and over. “Keep that one,” he said rolling and then licking the joint closed. “Donald said the shit’s growing like weeds.” He laughed. “Weed growing like weeds, that’s funny.” This was said more to himself than to me, so I didn’t bother correcting him. “You mind?” he asked lighting the joint anyway…

“Guess not.” I stood and stretched enough to pop my back. My hard on had subsided a bit, but still made a tent in my boxers. As I walked past Johnny boy I brushed it against his shoulder, just to watch him tense up. Despite all the years that had gone by, he never could forget the night we got drunk and he begged me to fuck him in the ass. We were barely 18 then and approaching 30 now; yet it still bothered him. Anytime I tried to bring it up he’d either change the subject or just walk away from me.

None of that means a handful of monkey shit now.

I went to the kitchen to make some coffee as Johnny boy created a cloud in my living room. “Want anything to drink?” I called out.

“No man, I’m cooo….” he trailed off before finishing.

“You baked already?”

“No man I ain’t no lightwei…” he trailed again. Detta came charging into the kitchen as soon as she heard me open a cabinet, meowing, and winding herself around my legs. While the Mr. Coffee came to the end of its brewing cycle, I poured some hazelnut creamer and a sweet n low in my favorite mug.

As I reached for the carafe, daggers of ice sliced their way down my back.

“My brother got these from work.” Johnny boy had said. I picked up the glass pot with a trembling hand and managed to pour a full cup despite the palsy shake.

Something wasn’t right. I made my way back to the couch where the zip loc stared up at me. I jerked back, splashing myself, not noticing the heat. Johnny boy’s eyes were a blazing red, barely more than slits. A small strand of drool hung from his upper lip. “Hey Johnny boy,” I said mostly to see if he could hear me.

“Yeah,” he said eyes opening up a bit.

I took a sip. My hands still shook and I couldn’t get them to stop. “Doesn’t your brother work at the graveyard?” I put the mug down as I began to put things together.

The quivering had strengthened.

On TV, Judge Judy replaced Montel..

Johnny boy perked up considerably. He liked nothing better than talking about the cemetery. “Hell yeah,” he said with a bit too much enthusiasm for my taste. He leaned forward, taking a hit then stubbed out the joint on a days emptied beer can. “Been there since he got out of prison.”

“That was like five years ago, he just now found it?” I asked. Sometimes talking with Johnny boy was like doing a puzzle made by a nitwit. When he got in this mode, it was better to listen, and then put things together and hope there were no missing pieces.

“No one ever goes there anymore, it’s closed, you know that,” he reminded me, though I honestly didn’t know it was closed. Being it was on the far west side of town, I very rarely went there outside of the keggers in college. “It’s gotten way overgrown so Donald got told to clean it up. “This,” he nodded in the direction of the baggie, “was growing wild all the way in the back where the crypts are.”

I lit another cigarette with the blue bic Johnny boy had. “There’re crypts back there?” I asked, intrigued.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s the fuckin’ desert, Eddie. Back in the day before bulldozers and shit, they couldn’t dig graves. Ground was too fucking hard. “Johnny boy relit the joint, took a long hit, and let it settle in his lungs, before blowing twin plumes from flared nostrils.

I looked at the bag again. Where I saw emerald green earlier there was now mold ripped from corpses long forgotten about.

“Dude, ” I said, not even trying to hide my disgust, “this was growing around dead people!”

“Donald says they make the best fertilizer.” Johnny boy sucked down the last of the joint, then leaned back with his eyes closed. A stoned grin plastered his face. With a quick kick I knocked the plastic bag off the couch, where it made its new home under the coffee table, with some other garbage and stains. It could stay there until Johnny boy picked it up and took it home for all I cared. I shuddered one time and lay down on the couch. The second hand smoke made me a bit drowsy. Even thoughts of rotted gardeners with sharp pruning shears, dripping blood couldn’t keep unconsciousness at bay.

It was only when Johnny boy began tearing my nut sack with his teeth that the real nightmare began.

The first sensation was of an ice cube being run down my inner thigh, which stirred me a bit. The sound of ripping cloth stirred me even further. The rough clutching at my balls woke me completely. My eyes opened in time to see Johnny boy with my nut sac in his mouth. Then he began whipping his head back and forth like a dog playing tug of war. I kicked him in the face, and as his head jerked back, my scrotum went with it.

I realized I’d probably made a mistake. I saw the skin stretch, heard it rip, saw the blood. I screamed as I clutched and clawed between my legs. Blood flowed down my thighs, over my hands and drenched the couch. Johnny boy held my nut between his teeth as if he’d caught a bullet. With dismay and anguish I watched his teeth sink slowly into the white, pulpy flesh, prolonging my agony as long as possible.

“That’s for fucking me in the ass.” He smiled then, showing red gristle covered teeth. We held eye contact for only a split second; enough for me to see that Johnny boy was history. Sure his eyes were red, but not from the pot; this was a viscous crimson that seeped from ducts and pores. Blue veins pulsed beneath peeling translucent skin.

The stench of decayed flowers and fresh dug graves hit me. I had no time to gag as Johnny boy lunged at me, his fingers digging into my shoulder; deep enough and strong enough to begin shredding my flesh. At least it drew attention away from the pain in my crotch. He slammed me down on the coffee table hard enough to send pieces of it flying. Something in my back popped and I added a new pain to the growing list. The god-awful stench from his mouth filled my nostrils, as he leaned in for another bite. I was able to punch him in throat with my right hand; flesh came away on my knuckles as some of the fluid from his eyes flew onto my forehead. I used my left hand to find something to hit him with. Anything, just to get the stinking grease bag off me. Something rough and sharp, jabbed my palm. I grabbed whatever it was and aimed the sharpness at the base of his neck. The broken table leg sunk in with a sickly wet sound, as blood oozed from around the wood. Johnny let out a sound, not really a scream but enough to make me shit myself just the same. I could only get to my knees as the pain in my groin and shoulder was proving too much. Snot flew from my nose while trying to catch my breath.

Johnny boy lay still, with blood pooling around his neck.

In time I was able to get to my feet and leaned heavily on the TV for balance. “You stupid motherfucker.” I spit at him, still gasping for breath. “Assholes! You and your brother, just stupid fucking assholes!”

Anger can be the angel or devil on your shoulder. This time it was an angel. In spite of the aches, pains and punctures, the anger seemed to sedate my injuries. I took a few tentative steps forward not sure where I was going, only knowing I had to keep moving. The living room made me nauseous as I surveyed the damage. Blood soaked my sofa, carpet and walls.

The baggies.

I stepped over Johnny boys’ body, grabbed the one on the rocker, and strained to reach the one trapped in the aftermath of the table. A nail had torn a hole in the plastic and a couple of small buds escaped. I left them where they were for the moment, and limped my way to the bathroom. As I hit the light switch by the vanity, Detta nearly knocked me over by racing through my feet, yowling all the way. More muttered curses. I grabbed the scissors I used to cut my hair off of the counter and stabbed one of the bags over the toilet. I could have opened the Ziploc, but slashing like that made me feel better. Bud after bud plopped into the bowl like grassy turds. After a few flushes both bags were empty, but my body was full of new and motivating pains. I dropped the bags in the tub, turned on my heel and saw Johnny boy standing in the doorway.

He was pulling out the table leg and I let out a scream out of surprise more than fear. I brandished the scissors and swung it in an overhand arc planting it in his left eye. It didn’t so much pop as deflate, releasing even more vile liquid that had the same smell as the dope. I pushed the blade in further. Not once did he try to stop me. I let go of the handles that were slick with god knew what and Johnny boy crumpled to the floor. What could have been an exhale, sounded more to me like he tried to say “love you…”

I stepped over him, said a silent prayer to an invisible god I had no belief in and stumbled into the vanity sink, with the mirror just daring me to look at my reflection.

I couldn’t. All I had to do was glance down at the blood drying on my legs, chest and stomach. My boxers were nothing more than an elastic band with a bit of fabric hiding the ruin. Everything hurt. I reached for the bottle of vicodin I had left over from an abscessed tooth, and dry swallowed the remaining four bitter pills. I slumped to the floor, in a haze of pain and exhaustion, with no idea how long I’d been leaning against the cabinet beneath the sink when I heard something that returned me to consciousness.

Music.

Loud and jarring.

I ignored Johnny boy for a moment, stood up and slowly made my way into the living room. One of the local anchors with a look of urgency broke into whatever had replaced Judge Judy. I missed the beginning but heard enough to know things were fucked.

“…reports of cannibalism in the metro center area…” I dropped into the rocker and it gave a warning creak.

Cannibalism,

Metro Center area.

Where I lived. My stomach churned. This was my doing. I had flushed the shit. Donald sold some, gave some away, of that I had no doubt. But I flushed that shit.

My big toe nudged one of the buds that’d jumped ship. I bent over to pick it up and noticed several small bites were taken from it.

Over the loud clatter of the a/c and the blaring TV came the sound of sirens. Underlying all this was the low predatory growl of an unearthed animal.

I don’t care who gets to me first.

(This story is the sole property of Scott Colbert and may not be reproduced in any form without prior consent.)

Also, for shits and giggles, another Halloween entry originally appearing on Louise Boehmer’s blog a couple of years ago.

Autumn.

Just writing that word brings me countless joys. Brittle leaves crumbling under foot. A nip in the night air that makes you want to zip your jacket up. Barren trees with their extended, arthritic branches that seem to reach out for you with malevolent intent.

The first fire in a fire place to warm your feet and nourish your soul.

The days shrink, as the night takes control.

And the creatures of dark and blighted imagination take center stage. Thoughts turn to that one day of the year when we embrace our inner monsters. That one twenty four hour slice of madness and mayhem where we face every devil and demon; every ghost and ghoul; every vampire, werewolf, zombie and undead who make their presence known, demanding their due. We do the Monster Mash as Bobby Pickett instructed, we bob for apples in a tin tub of water, we roam candle lit neighborhoods dressed in our soul cleansing costumes in hopes of confusing the real monsters.

If you grew up in my neighborhood (Islip Terrace, NY) you avoided the high school kids who loved egging the younger kids. For those not familiar with this ritual of childhood, it involved older kids throwing raw eggs at the younger kids. Sometimes they took your pillow case full of candy, sometimes not. I suppose it depended on if there were any adults with you or not. Without exception, I remember trick or treating with friends and my sister, well, at least until she got too old to do so anymore. Yes, that’s right, when I made the rounds it was with friends. My Mom or Dad would drive us to the beginning of a block, and wait in the car until we went down one side of the street and up the other until we got back to the car (a ’74 blue Gremlin, but that’s another story). There was no fear of being lured into a stranger’s house never to be seen again, now did we worry about razors in the apples, poison in the candy, or any other deed most foul. Everyone knew everyone in the neighborhood and it was also a more innocent time, I think. In fact, the worst thing that could happen would be missing “It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown” on our floor model Zenith with aluminum foil wrapped around the antenna. Aside from that and rain, the worst thing that could happen was being egged.

One of the last times I remember going out in my frayed, ill fitting pirate skeleton costume provided the biggest scare of my young life. I was with my friend Steve on his side of town (which was merely across the main drag), and it was only the two of us. I could be wrong about that, but it’s how I remember it. I know we were close to the railroad tracks, and Main Street High School, which was maybe a mile or so from my own home. It was pitch black, windy and cold. Some houses had their lights off-you know, the ones who pretended not to be home, even though you could see a tv set flickering inside. Others had plastic pumpkins with a flashlight tucked inside set out at the start of the driveway. A couple had some toilet paper strung like a spider web from trees (not surprisingly the same homes with no lights on), and many had no decorations at all-apparently oblivious to the holiday.

There was one house though, which defied all others. It stood as a testament to the owners love of all things black and orange. There were cotton cobwebs cocooning the dried tree limbs. Two dozen or so real pumpkins lined each side of their driveway, all with a candle planted firmly in the center. Each had a different and equally scary face carved in a crude, demented style. A skeleton hung from one tree, his eyes lighting up as we passed it on the way to the porch. On the porch was one of the biggest pumpkins I’d ever seen, bright orange, and all malevolent glare. There was no candle in this beast. Instead it was overflowing with candy. Not the cheap little boxes of dots, or plastic wrapped sour balls, no sir, here was the granddaddy of all mother lodes. Mini Snickers, 3 Musketeers, and Milky Ways fell from the opening. Steve and I looked at one another, jaws down to the ground.

“We could take the whole thing!” one of us said, with the greedy delight only a sugar deprived preteen could muster.

That’s when we noticed the scarecrow. It sat obscured in a dark corner of the porch, where candlelight couldn’t reach. I already had my hand in the treasure, Steve was getting ready to dig in, when it started to move. Slowly.

At first I thought it was simply a trick of my the eye, combined with the wavering shadows thrown from candle flames, but it continued to stand. Ripped jeans with hay protruding like broken bones, a flannel shirt with the yellow straw poking out. Leather gloves, grimy with dirt and god knows what else-it all came together as the scarecrow began to move in our directions. It’s arms were held out as if it were Karloff’s infamous monster, reaching, stretching, ready to claw at the kid flesh which had defiled it’s trove of chocolate.

“Take one, and only one,” it said in all too human female voice, though to me it sounded like it came from the pits of hell. “I’ll haunt you and chase you forever if you don’t!”

That was all we needed to hear, as we ran screaming down the driveway, flinging our pudgy little bodies to our respective homes as fast as we could. For weeks afterwards, I dreamt of that damn scarecrow, chasing me in my dreams, and trick or treating lost its appeal. I don’t think I ever went again.

That was over 30 years ago, and yet that one moment in time is still etched in my memory as if it happened last night.

I write about it now, to exorcise that childhood demon, and also because when I woke up this morning I found a piece of straw on my pillow.

Well, cloud computing with a caveat-when it relates to music only right now. Sure it’s handy to backup data using drop box or some other service in case my laptop crashes. It keeps me from losing my work, but I don’t always have access to the internet. My broadband connection can be spotty at times, and the 3G on my phone doesn’t always stay connected (nor is there always a wifi spot nearby).

However, Amazon and Google are changing that. When Amazon came out with its cloud service for music a few months ago, I signed up but honestly never did anything with it. Then about two weeks ago Lady Gaga’s album went on sale for 99 cents. I snapped it up and started playing around with it. When I first purchased the album I was given the choice of downloading it to my hard drive or stream it with their cloud service. As a result of my purchase I was also given 20 gigs of space to upload my own music. It’s important to note that at this time Amazon isn’t charging me for that space, as it’s good for a year. (Pricing for it can be found here: https://www.amazon.com/clouddrive/learnmore/ref=sa_menu_acd_lrn2).  After downloading a small program it then scans my drive for music and then uploads it to their servers. I then have my choice of streaming my music to my laptop or to my phone (another download that takes a minute to install).  Any music you purchase from Amazon does not count towards the 20 gig storage; an incentive to buy music from them (aside from them being cheaper than iTunes).  My only problem is any music you purchased in the past from Amazon does count-because you have to upload it to them. I’d gladly get rid of the ability to download the music and keep it in the cloud if it included past purchases.

Google Music Beta works the same way.  The only difference is Google has no music store yet, and given some of the problems they have with negotiating with the record labels, may never have. I love the interface for Google music, much better than the somewhat clunky interface that Amazon has.  Both take the same amount of time to upload music files, which only goes as fast as your connection allows. If you have a lot of music it could take several hours. For the sake of testing I just used one album and it took about 20 minutes. Since Google’s service is in beta, there’s no charges, but I expect that to change in the future. There doesn’t seem to be a limit to the amount you can upload to Google right now, and looking through the website doesn’t provide any info on this (www.music.google.com).

Once you have the music uploaded, and the apps installed the service works beautifully. I had no hiccups or pauses during the streaming and little lag between songs.

There are things I like and dislike about both, and ideally would love to see the two services combined to make one kick ass program. I also want a million dollars too, but none of that will happen.

Here’s the problem with these services and it has nothing to do with them as much as it does with the phone carriers. Streaming does two things: it can eat your battery life (mine went from 100% charge to 80 with about 2 hours of listening) and it eats your bandwidth. With virtually all carriers having some kind of data cap, it makes streaming music-whether from these apps, slacker, pandora or even movies, a very expensive proposition. There are some unlimited data plans on various carriers though they do throttle you after you reach a certain point. That more than anything else is what keeps me from wholeheartedly embracing the idea.

With 4G and LTE being rolled out, all of which have true inlimited capacity-right now-the devices capable of using them, and the areas they’re available are pretty limited.

The success or failure of cloud music isn’t going to be the products themselves, but the inability to even use them as much as we want.

Edited to add: at this time both services are only available in the U.S.

I suppose this will be a rambling, try and catch up on everything type entry-so here we go.

In December I wasn’t feeling well, I was displaying some signs of Diabetes, and since my mother is diabetic, I mentioned them to her. She gave me a glucose testing kit, and after tracking my blood sugar for a couple of weeks, and getting readings over 250-325 I went to the doctor who diagnosed me as type 2 Diabetic.  I’m on medication and it seems to be regulating it very well.

The novella that this blog is named for, Barbed Wire Kisses, was picked up by Skullvines Press and will be out sometime this year! ON the heels of that, my silence from the web has had to do with my writing the follow up to it, entitled, “The Coffiners Son”. It’s a sprawling tale, well over 100,000 words and I’m letting it settle a bit before I go in and hack at it with edits.

Almost a year ago to the day, I sent out the signature sheets for my weird western collection “Dead West” and glad to say I received the completed sheets in the mail today! Expect DW to be out this summer.

In some other Bandersnatch related news, We have some great releases this year! Two more chapbooks from TM Wright; a werewolf western from Eric Red, Dead West, and and an end of the world tale from L.L. Soares and his lovely wife Laura! These will start coming out in June/July of this year.

There will also be a sneak peak of my novella in Dead West, complete with another awesome drawing Noah O’Toole.

The past six months haven’t gone as I planned-though whatever does, but I can only hope the next six months prove to be even more productive-including far more regular updates on the blog.

I write about it now, to exorcise that childhood demon, and also because when I woke up this morning I found a piece of straw on my pillow.

The kit comes with two batteries (the top part of the cig, where the tip glows a cool blue when you inhale), two atomizers, a charger that can be used with a wall outlet or a usb port, a portable charger in the shape of a cigarette pack, and 25 cartridges of various flavors.  It’s as simple as attaching one of the flavor cartridges to the atomizer and affixing it to the battery.  ONce you do that it’s good to go. So far it’s as close as you can get to a real smoke without all the tobacco smoke, chemicals in the tobacco and tar. This is a much smoother way to get the nicotine into my system.

I’ll be blogging more about this as I use it more, and the goal is to keep off the analog cigs and stick strictly with the e-cig. Color me impressed so far however.

With a new dental college just being built not far from me, my Mother took the plunge and offered to pay for me to get them done. After several false starts due to expenses, we were finally get a price point that she could afford, and that I could pay back at a reasonable rate.

For the past few weeks I’ve been going in to get molds made, measurements taken, tooth color chosen, all in preperation for having the teeth I had left, including my wisdom teeth taken out. As some who follow me on twitter know I was having panic attacks about the whole thing. My biggest fear, waking up while they were working on me did come true, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

At 9 AM prompt, on August the 17th, I was escorted my Megan and Andrea to the oral surgery section of the college, where I was met by the oral surgeon in training Dr. Greg. His mentor, instructor Dr. Robertson was there as well. I was seated in a typical dentist chair, in a fairly empty room, and my mind tripped back to The Marathon Man, and Laurence Olivier doing some elective dentistry to Dustin Hoffman. I was given some oxygen, then nitrous oxide and was told that the whole thing wouldn’t last more than 2 hours. With the IV in, I was off to dreamland and ready to wake up all bloody and bandaged.

Well I woke up bloody, but its because they hadn’t finished. It was closing in on four hours when I started coming out of it, and were it not for the fact I was so doped up from the general plus the nitrous oxide I would have freaked. I didn’t though, when I felt something I let them know and before I knew it, I was done and had my dentures in. With a handful of penicillin and oxycodone, I made it through one of things I dreaded the most in my life.

Here’s the end product: http://yfrog.com/j3ibwyj

And then there’s tweets like he’s been posting over the past day or so, where he gets tested for STD’s. Rather than explain it, I’ll ask you to watch it. I asked Wolf for permission to link to it, and he was gracious enough to say yes.

As you can see the video speaks for itself. I wanted to put this up for a number of reasons; 1) it’s a well done little video with an important message to it, but most importantly is number 2. I’m 44, and remember very well exactly the sheer terror gay men had when AIDS was first discussed. Whether it was referred to as GRID, HTLV III, HIV Positive, it meant the same thing a death sentence. Throughout the mid to late ’80s and into the early ’90s  I went to well over 200 funerals for friends and acquaintances who succumbed to AIDS. There was probably an even greater number who contracted other STD’s not to mention Hepatitis C.  Over the past few years I’ve seen a return to unsafe sex practices,  partners not wanting to use condoms, let alone get tested.

It both saddens and angers me. I hate like hell to think that all those men, women and children who died from HIV died needlessly. That no one has learned the lesson of practicing unsafe sex and don’t think about getting tested for anything.

Please, don’t be a statistic, and take Wolf’s video to heart. You can thank him by getting tested and playing safe.

You can also follow Wolf on twitter  @WolfHudsonXXX  and check out his blog at   http://wolfhudsonxxx.blogspot.com

1. Relax – Frankie Goes to Hollywood (1982) This was actually the first song that came to mind when Chris asked the question. I’m not sure why, other than it seems to typify the overblown, overly dramatic dance music that many think of when the ’80s are mentioned. Oh I guess the the theme of the song, having an Orgasm had something to do with it, but it was a great song then and still holds up today. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kV5SJgWoDOs.

2. Abacab – Genesis (1981) The first album of the ’80s by Genesis, saw a much stripped down and poppier release than anything else previously. Gone were the prog rock songs from the Gabriel era, and yet Abacab is one of the last vestiges of the days gone by. I much prefer a live version of this song, as it packs more punch, and it features Phil singing at his screaming best.  In this youtube clip when Phil goes back on the drumkit and plays along with Chester Thompson is nothing short of breathtaking. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dk4OVoJZrBU&feature=related

3. In the Air Tonight – Phil Collins(1982) I might be double dipping here and there, but truly one of the classic songs from that decade was In the Air Tonight; not just for the booming drums, but also for all the urban myths surrounding the lyrics and what they meant. Again another live performance with more stellar drumming from Phil and Chester. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G82VUCzrhQo&feature=related

4. White Wedding Part 1 -Billy Idol (1982) Billy Idol was my first MTV crush. The first time I saw him, and this video, I got a raging hardon that wouldn’t go away. From the platinum blonde hair, to the sneer, and the leather pants, Idol and this song oozes hard, hot sweaty sex. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AAZQaYKZMTI&feature=fvst

5. Script for a Jester’s Tear – Marillion(1983) This is simply one of the best songs by one of the best bands with one of the best singers I’ve ever heard. Anyone who knows me well, knows my absolute unadorned love for the early Marillion music, and Fish, the lead singer (who will make an appearance on the list later) in particular. For me this will always be a song tied to a bad breakup for me in 1990, but back in ’83 it was simply a catharsis I wouldn’t begin to comprehend. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gaBjdLQ0LJ0

6. Like A Virgin – Madonna (1984) Any list wouldn’t be complete without Madonna, and this song represents everything I loved about her in the early days, fun, slightly slutty and way ahead of her time. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgkOCJ9PGkk

7. Wild Boys – Duran Duran(1984) Like Madonna, no list about ’80s music is complete without Duran Duran; however instead of choosing the obvious, it’s The Wild Boys that really desrves to be here. It had everything a horny teenager could want, hot men, leather and hints of bondage. all with a kick ass percussive sound. Aside from that it also reminds me of one of the great loves of my life, Jim S.  who I met because of a  love for DD’s music.  The video is an extended version and well worth watching. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCWyYOOS8FQ&feature=related

8. Bela Lugosi’s Dead – Bahaus(1979) Ok technically not a song from the ’80s but close enough. Bahaus’ classic song is nothing short of what goth truly is, before it got filled with CUre wannabes. It’s sleek, sexy and dangerous. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCWyYOOS8FQ&feature=related

9. Soft Cell – Tainted Love(1981) A remake of a Gloria Jones song from 1964 that went nowhere then, was revived and made not only a staple of ’80s collections, but a classic song period. The first link is for the Soft Cell version and the second is for the original version. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3fCFkl-BFU&feature=fvsr http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NSehtaY6k1U

10. Sex(I’m a…) – Berlin Yet another staple, but also one of the songs that immediately made me want to go out and get laid. As I said to Chris, More people fucked to Berlin in the ’80s than all the other groups combined. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=raq8maAutAE

11. Shock the Monkey – Peter Gabriel(1982) I remember the first time I heard this song. I was on the bus going to school, sitting in the back drooling over Steve M and his surfer boy good looks. I hated it at first. Maybe it was the tinny speakers on the bus that the driver insisted on blaring music from, but it grated on my nerves. Then I saw the video and it all made sense. I think. 28 years later I still love this song and think Gabriel is simply one of the best musicians around. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bo9riZYUpTw

12. Breakaway – Big Pig (1988) Too obscure to even be a one hit wonder, Big Pig was an Australian group of 7 musicians who only used percussion and a synth, plus vocals. The results are simply stunning. My roommate Joe A. turned me onto them and I fell in love immediately. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBCcnazy88U

13. Beds Are Burning – Midnight Oil(1987) Another Australian group, and one of the most politically motivated of the time (moreso even than U2). M.O. made caring about things cool again. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yiq5QK_SBqs&feature=related

14. AEIOU Sometimes Y – Ebn Ozn (1983) One of my favorite electronic bands, their one and only album was a masterpiece, with not one bad song on it (in my opinion) This was their biggest hit. I still know every single word. I’m very happy to say the whole album is available as a download on Amazon. That was long overdue! http://vodpod.com/watch/95181-ebn-ozn-aeiou-somet-y

15. Safety Dance – Men Without Hats (1982) This is one of those songs that everyone thinks of when they think of the ’8o’s music, and who can blame them? It’s a fun, silly little song that forces you to get up and dance. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AjPau5QYtYs

16, Too Shy – Kajagoogoo(1983) Known as much for their hair as their music, Too Shy was an early favorite of mine, and seemed to be played on MTV once an hour. Lead singer Limahl has an incredibly soft and sweet voice, and uses it to full effect here. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FKIs_6qc4cQ

17. Cliche – Fish (1990) Though technically not in the ’80s (well okay not in a year with an eight in it), I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention one of the very best songs from Fish’s debut solo album. Frank Usher’s guitar work is absolutely incredible, in this song that is as romantic as it is fresh and unsappy (if that’s not a word it should be).  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l5avmXNE59U

18. Hold Me Now – Thompson Twins(1983) Not only did lead singer Tom Bailey remind me of my b/f at the time Jim S, but his low seductive voice absolutely sent chills down my spine. The TT’s were one of those great bands that made a CD full of good to great songs that never made you regret picking up their work. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SpZ9gEKBoYI

19. Change – Tears for Fears(1983) Perhaps one of the more original of the new wave groups to come out of the ’80s, T4F  never made a truly bad record. Change came from their first album The Hurting, which also has its most famous song, “Mad World”. I happen to remember Change far better. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZWAqZN-uJo

20. Dance Hall Days – Wang Chung (1984) I fell in love with this song when I first heard it, and it makes a great companion to the next song in the list as well. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V-xpJRwIA-Q

21. Come Dancing – The Kinks(1983) what can you say about seminal rock band The Kinks? They broke barriers with their song about a transvestite Lola in the ’60s and continued to produce classic music for decades. This is one of my absolute favorites from this time period. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gs2kFrGluKs

22. Let’s Dance – David Bowie(1983) I remember the first time I heard this was on our Senior SPring Fling for school. I was on a ferry going to Catalina Island, and I had to dance. I had to. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4d7Wp9kKjA

23. Come On Eileen – Dexy’s Midnight Runners(1982) This song has been stuck in my head for almost 30 years. Now it’s your turn. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oc-P8oDuS0Q

24. Sweet Dreams(are made of this) Eurythmics(1983) What can I say about this one? It certainly played nonstop on my cassette player for a good long time. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qeMFqkcPYcg

25. Sunday Bloody Sunday – U2(1982) No list would be worth it’s salt without a mention of U2. The first song I ever heard from them was this one, and I was so blown away by its raw emotion, and political statement, it still rings with authenticity today. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGwfh8agBc8

As I look at this list, I see a majority of the songs are from 81-84, and I think for me, as I was in high school those years, they certainly define everything musically for me. There are at least 25 more I could have added, but that has to be saved for another time.

About 20 years ago I had a discussion with a friend of mine about my terrible luck with relationships. I went through each and every one of them and finally my friend Steve said, “You know what they all have in common don’t you?”

“Yeah, they were all assholes.”

Steve chuckled, and shook his head. “No, it’s you! You’re the common denominator.”

Now I mention that story because of your continued defense of Nick Pacione. Banning and warning  everyone else, and still letting Pacione have free run is not addressing the problem. He is the common denominator, Matt, not everyone else. Pacione has threatened to hurt, ruin the careers of, called people names, accused them of things they haven’t done-all stuff you ban and warn everyone else about.

Yet you don’t do a goddamned thing about Nick. I’m not the only one who wonders why. Are you trying to drive everyone away from the board until no one is left but you and him? Are you so eager to defend him that you risk your own reputation? Is ruining what was once a great board worth that?

If you’re gullible enough to believe he’s the real victim, then you have no business running a forum. All these headaches that are caused could be done away with if you’d simply ban him like you did once before.  People try and point out what he’s done, how he’s fueled by hate and paranoia but you refuse to see it.

Not only is it time for you to do what you should have done long ago, but you owe each and every person who has to deal with him on the boards an apology for not doing your job as a moderator. If Pacione is an oil spill, you’re BP, and we’re the birds that get covered with his shit.

Time to swallow your pride, admit you’re wrong for allowing him to continue and ban him.