Black Black Love of our Lord
I celebrated our Dark Lord's holiday by heading down to Rooster's Roadhouse in Alameda to check out Black Stigma, a five-piece Acalanes band opening a metal fest to honor Satan. I chatted nicely with the boys for a few minutes before the show but quickly made my exit so they could get their evil on away from teaching influences and headed for the bar to order an Arrogant Bastard draft from what looked like an escapee from the Philipino leper society. She called me hun and the night was on. After our boys' first song, the audience filled with tattooed metal boys with weedwhacker hair slabs began chanting at the sixteen year olds and then finally after a moment's silence, one dreadlocked cretan screamed, "Are you dudes in high school?" The lead singer from my sophomore English class quickly responded, "Yes, we are all in high school, and this week is Finals." The blazingly hot metalettes standing next to me at the bar swooned, and continued to make rude gestures and to utter suggestive coos about things they'd like to do to said 16 year old boy that had me outraged, proud, and jealous. He continued to ramble about the band's incompetence, their ignorance of any one in the decidedly white trash establishment, and the number of cds they had for sale. My breast swelled. They finished their four song set to "fuck yeas" and "you guys are sick" and I made my way for the exit. I paid my deserved compliments to the band and heard this from the swirling haired bassist: "Dude, you made my night. Thanks for coming, dude." I've never felt more like a dad in my life. If this is the apocalypse, pour me a milkshake. All the right people, obviously and as always, celebrate the juju. Long live the mark of OUR beautiful beast!