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Hello Dear Readers | PJ Newman

Your Action News Boy here regaling you with more tough gritty news from the front!

Dateline: Tacoma
So last night’s buzz was this morning’s buzz as well. Same 2 channels, those darn wireless. I moved them from Ampland to FOH and all is well.
Last night ended with 2 hot dogs and a couple of Red Hooks from the AM/PM next to the hotel. Kelly smuggled me in a taste of some VERY NICE SCOTCH. Kelly is a good man, a fair man, a man who will trade his booze for my pills. Breakfasted at the Market Cafe, down the street from where we wasted half of last Sunday. Inexpensive, cozy and GREAT COFFEE.
FUCK! CLOWNS! The place is lousy with clowns, but back to them in a moment.
Sound guy boner #1. Whilst previewing (Do you preview audio? I guess you Audition audio) a CD for the next act, I guess there is the slightest possibility of a chance that I might not have removed said CD feed from the monitors. Ooops! Fuck ’em! I got hate mail from the flutes because they thought they were not adequately represented in the overall mix the other night. Maybe they’re right, but since I didn’t mic anything, it’s a moot point. Also, if there had been Seahawks Gals waiting for me, I might be more inclined to listen to their idle gaseous emissions. (Note: Superb Customer Service chip seems to have fried. Film at Eleven)

There they are! Bastards! Clowns! First off, that damn McGruff the Crime Dog was snooping around when I arrived this morning, but I threw him off of the scent. Then there was, in no particular order, a giant Lemon flavored Jelly Belly, a huge Hershey’s Hug and Kiss, a Punk Snowman and those DAMNED CLOWNS! I have many questions and theories on Wild & Captive Clown Breeding programs, but I won’t bore you with those now, as this is a fast paced war journal, not Scientific American or Popular Mechanics.

Last night, speaking of the Seahawk Gals, quite a bit of TALENT (if you know what I mean). Question: what’s the age of consent in Tacoma? It’s not for me; it’s for some of the idiot video guys. They wanted to know. Actually, they didn’t want to know or didn’t seem to care, but I had to hold them back from what could only be described A FLOCK OF 12 YEAR OLDS! Something about all of those images flickering in your eyes that must send these poor brave video folk over the edge.
Did I mention how disappointed I was in not having a quartet of Seahawk Gals for my
needs last night?
Speaking of flickering images, I’m happy they went with Halide lighting here. Fluorescents would’ve sent me into a murderous rage soon after load in.

Clowns again. This time there were 3 or 4 of them sitting at a table between the stage and mix position. I couldn’t hear what they were saying from where I was, but I’m sure they were up to no good. A few minutes ago, 2 took advantage of a photo op to pick the pocket and purse of an unsuspecting blonde w/ 2 kids.

Quick time out. Through the act that just did their thing, I ran into someone I used to work with at American Music years ago. So we’re talking about people we’ve seen lately and Eric mentions the name of a guy who ran with my older brother in high school 30 years ago. He goes on to say that he plays music with him, and furthermore that he’ll be here today. Sure enough, there’s Kevin Almeida, whom I haven’t seen for over 20 years! Wow!

Back to blog. Second to last band is showing no intention of yielding the stage and the Biopsy Twins are nowhere to be seen.

End of 1st half of Saturday.

I’m afraid to leave the premises because of what happened last night. Found a bowl of chili (or dog food w/ beans). Not bad. There were sandwiches earlier, but the volunteers are starting to look at me menacingly when I stop in for supplies. Why am I bringing a thermos when everybody else is ok with a paper cup? Do I really need that chocolate chip cookie? No, I don’t need it, but it’s there and it’ll take some of the volunteers a while to gum through it.
More cutesters tonight and in my age range. Stevie, I’d appreciate if you’d pay better attention to my rider in the future. I know it’s an ugly word, Pimp is, but you are contractually obligated to supply me with women when I work for you. I’d do the same for you.
The after-auction band (satellite stage) is starting to make noise. Did anyone bother to tell them about the room’s characters? Probably not. They’ll figure it out. Or not. I think they’re called Mid Life Crisis and all of their gear is Peavey. Stacks and stacks of it. Also, I talked to one of the bands performing tomorrow afternoon. They want 5 vocal mics, 3 DI’s and a whole bunch of instrument mics. I’ll let Ken-boy enlighten them.
See, the Customer Service chip is failing and by tomorrow I’ll be as good as new.

7:00 PM
Doors opened 1/2 hour ago.
Deli tray and some sort of noodley soupy thing. I’m disappointed in catering this year.
Techs are sitting in our holding cell. Me, Alex, Steve Baker, Kelly K and someone with a mustache.
A patron just walked by and asked if we were the brains of the operation. Either he came pre-lubed or is a cheap date. Look at the above mentioned names. We don’t have half a brain between us.
Good talent pool tonight. Some of the throw backs apparently dressed themselves.

Done. Back to my luxurious accommodations. Really, it’s not half bad. Half bad. Half bad.
Finishing this off and going around the corner to see if the locals are cannibals as rumored.
I’m looking forwards to the end of hostilities’ scratch that’ festivities tomorrow. I miss my dog, especially after watching 2 get auctioned. That is REALLY NOT THE WAY TO CHOOSE A PET. It’s nice and cute and criminal. If you want a dog or cat, ADOPT ONE FROM A SHELTER.
Enough upper case for me.
I won’t see you for load out Monday. My detox and debriefing begins when I wake up Monday.

Thanks again for the opportunity to serve.