DEFENDING GOOD TIMES THIRD TOUR BLOG

Nuggets, Speak Easies, and Ribs
Denver. A dark, wet city. The rain was falling en masse as we rode the Rockies. The venue Bar Bar was situated in the center of a pentagram. That night we sacrificed Ian’s virgin butt and devoured the meat of pigs in order to ensure a most righteous night of rocking. The dark lords heeded our call. MALAKAI started the night off with grim thunderous brutality. They were followed by WARHAWK who delivered a good straight up rock set and a Thin Lizzy cover to boot in our honor. Too bad we hate that band. Up next was us. We untapped the Rockies and added four bad asses to it’s mana pool. ICONOCAUST followed next and were stacked high in the metal realm. The Dark Lords once again granted us a mighty night of pure phantasmic pancreatic poop. It’s a good thing.

I Think I’m Going To Go Downstairs And, House Some Food
Lincoln, Nebraska. Home of the corn husker, which I think is some sort of sex thing, but we never found out for sure. Ian is their hometown hero and they welcomed him and the rest of Gypsy as nothing less. Good lord, they bought us a lot of drinks. And a bottle of Jack. The kids really dug into the tunes and showed us a bad ass time. And we came up with a new term: Dropping A Ron. If something expensive falls out of your hand while drunk on a balcony and it’s not yours you have officially Dropped A Ron. Not to be confused with Dropping An Ian, which is just taking a shit, whether off a balcony or otherwise.

This Mead Taste Awfully Pungent, Don’tcha Know, Bobby?
It was a little ghetto in St. Paul. The cashier at Jimmy John’s scared me when she yelled at me because she didn’t make my sandwich. But that had nothing to do with the awesome show we played that night. WITCHDEN was some heavy ass shit. RED DESERT closed out the night with some seriously rocking tunes. It was like being on a heated snake ridden highway to Havana blasting shotguns out the top of your convertible. We partied in the parking lot, then in the van on the way to Metal Bob’s house where I got an air mattress and Ian slept in a crib.

This Is The Best Christian Rock Band Ever… FOR ME TO POOP ON!
College towns are weird. Everyone in Madison is in their workout gear running around at night with iPod headphones in their faces like they’re not going to get raped. Some of them have 30 packs of Keystone on their shoulder. Aren’t these kids supposed to be looking over letters or working on their sums? However, cheese curds are fucking awesome. The green room downstairs was pretty rad because they had a TV that we watched the best of Triumph on while waiting to play. The Annex is a pretty cool venue. They found a really old photo to make a flyer that only had two current members in it so I deleted the myspace the next day. They’re fighting me tooth and nails to stay relevant like when M.C. Hammer signed to Death Row and went “gangsta”, but I’m not putting up with that bull shit. I know a dead duck when I step on one.

A Pizza, A Ticket, and A Flat Chested Mennonite Named Papi
THUNDERUNDERUS ruled. WIZARD CASTLE ruled. Check out both of those bands. They’re from Chicago just like Trouble and the Smashed Pumpkins. Chicago kids are totally out of control, too. Like a pack of wild red haired weasels chasing a cheese coated Oreo as it rolls down the sidewalk. Be careful out there. It’s anarchy.