on the record #5

queens of the stone age - lullabies to paralyze

i stole this off the internet the other day…i was all like “i’m takin’ this shit…what,” and the computer was all scared. ha ha…you should have seen it. fuckin’ faggot-ass computer. i pulled my guns and shit…what the fuck was it gonna do. yeah...you know…i'm a beast, yo. hell to the motherfuckin’ yeah!

so i burned it then taped it…i like to play my records on my old boombox. it helps me keep up my street cred. henceforth i got all loaded cuz it was the afternoon and took my boombox and went and sat in the grass to groove on the new rawk. there was a cop car in the parking lot, and a k-9 was in the back.

i’ve often wondered if the dogs were trained for specific purposes…i mean, are certain cop dogs drug dogs as opposed to, like, the type of dog that they sic on the fugitives? or are the dogs multi-purpose…meaning they can sniff out the ya-yo and the dude hiding in your backyard under the plastic baby pool? that seems like the logical route…you want the dog that can pull double duty, right?

exactly.

so i push play to get the new queens rollin’ on my stereo…lannegan opens up with some slow, waltzy, folksy number. sounds like french quarter back alley dumpster sludge heroin. it’s not that bad, but who the fuck decided to open up the record with this number…i mean, look at the openers from the past: regular john, feel good hit of the summer, millionaire…apparently the k-9 shared my perplexiosityiousness, because he picked his ears up and cocked his head to the side. the back window was cracked and i went [makes that sound that gets a dog’s attention]. the dog yelped a coupla times then cocked its retarded head to the side again, and held it there with a kind of confused anticipation until the song ended.

for a moment, it was strangely serene.

the clicks of sticks that open “medication” got the k-9’s attention, and while the bass rumblings below the feedback might be a gram less drug-addled since oliveri split / got the boot, it still felt dangerous. by the time the fuckin’ gee-tars blew the doors off the motherfucker, the cop dog was going bananas in the backseat, gnashing its teeth, and licking the window.

the cop came running back to his car to check on the dog, which had gone completely ape-shit, running back and forth in the backseat and rocking the car. he wanted to know what i had been up to, and he sweared to “fucking christ" that he was gonna open up the back door and let the dog loose. he muttered something about never seeing the beast in such a state, and sure enough, when he lifted the handle, the dog made a bee-line for me.

at least i thought it was me. he actually ran right for the radio, stopping momentarily to sniff the radio’s ass, then circling wildly and yelping.

“you sure you ain’t been smoking any drugs?” the cop asked. “are there any drugs hidden in that radio?”

i just shrugged my shoulders and shook my head. the cop moved in to stop the dog and regain some semblance of control, but i stepped in front of him and waved an open palm slowly from left to right.

“the dog is causing no harm,” i said.

“the dog is causing no harm,” he said.

“let him go for a while,” i said.

“i’m gonna let him go for a while,” he said.

“you don’t mind if i drink a beer,” i said.

“no…go ahead.”

the k-9 continued to circle and yelp…and by the time “little sister” made it onto the box, the dog apparently had enough. it tried to hump my boombox, and when that effort proved futile, it lifted it’s leg and took a piss on the speakers.

i don’t know about you or your mammy, but that’s a punk rock show of approval if i ever saw one.