Des (A.K.A) “Chief Maniac” and “The World Tour Of Hotel Bathrooms.” Volume 1

"Des, Get Back In The Fuckin' Bathroom Now!!"

“Des, Get Back In The Fuckin’ Bathroom Now!!”

Well, when we talk of “Chief Maniac”, we speak in “Glowing terms.” The terms of the rules regarding “Chief Maniac” and the “World Tour Of Hotel Bathrooms..” are as follows…We had to lock up Des (That will be the abbreviated “Monikor”, to ensure that his identity remains private.) Basically, it is the story of a punk lead man, so fuckin’ foul, evil, offensive and destructive, that the only way the band, “The Doomed Planet” could tour, was to lock Des in the fuckin’ hotel bathroom pre and post-show to ensure that Televisions were not” Smashed”, and hotel furniture not “Plundered” or hotel phones weren’t “Ripped to shreds.” Also make fuckin’ sure Des does not have access to hookers or bald caps or extra jackets to smuggle in contraban or Extra Caffeine…we kept that “Fuckers” Coffee quota mega low for a damn good reason.

Now, “Ungentle” and “Doomed” readers, by the start of the tour, Des was usually already in a Psychosis similar to a snarling “G.G. Allin” or a raging and cackling “David Yow.” We had to lock this “Fucker” in the hotel bathrooms, to avoid the destruction and embarrasement, and, of course, “Crippling” hotel bills, and the unwanted run-ins with “John-Q Law.” We would mash anti-psychotics and hide them expertely under pepperoni pizza slices, stir in valium or ativan into his “Ginger Ale Quota”, and just hope that That “Fucker” wouldn’t rip off the shower door, defile hotel linens, or tunnel his way into room 308 next door.

We couldn’t really just give Des “Clothing priveleges” or even “Socks and underwear priveleges.” Well, of fuckin’ course not. Des would routinely sneak mashed up books of matches and firecrackers and just set his “tighty whities” Aflame…”BBQ-ed socks and underwear anyone??” I remember we used to tell Des we were in Europe, when we were actually in fuckin’ “Toledo.” Besides, he wouldn’t know the fuckin’ difference…It was all a blur of “Level 9 Hotel Bathroom Meltdowns”, and psychiatric meds fed via whatever god damn way we could get them into his system. I remember the infamous “Chicago fiasco” of 2004. Well, let’s just say that Des went on a rampage and managed to sneak out into the night after a ripper show, he phoned a “Pizza Guy” then paid him 50 bones to let him wear the uniform, and off he went. By, the time we found him the next day, he had gone and spent the tour gas budget on booze, strippers and had a half sleeve tattoo of a giant serpent on his left arm.

Well, well, well, let me just say, as the drummer, that Des is just Des. We have to continually medicate him and keep him under control. Or, under control enough to get him onstage and back into a fuckin’ cab, then safely home for the night in the hotel bathroom. Now things like hotel soap, handtowels and shampoo, we just right those particular items off completely.

Of course, we never notify Des when we hit “Europe”. “Europe” seems to feed his “Hedonism” and “Destructive Lunacy”. For example, in “France”, a mecca for liberty and the arts, we can’t let Des catch wind of it. Too many “Leftists” and “Free-spirits” to send Des into an anarchistic frenzy of booze, spray paint and mayhem. Of course, Des, due to his “French blood”, has a raging fondness for “Les Femmes Francaises.”

In the French punk scene, all the young “Punker” “Up and Comers”, are assigned to the infamous “Pee-pants patrol.” the “Pee-pants patrol” are a group of young and aspiring deviants who have to earn the respect and brotherhood of the old and cranky “Punk Rock Veterans” on the scene. The sole job of the “Pee-pants Patrol”, is to just piss their pants. When the cops are watching or “Government Goon Squads”, we just radio in a “Mandatory Pants Pissing.” It is “100% legal”, and our only way to voice our anarchistic discord with the “Powers That Be.” Bien Oui!!!

These young vigilantees are keep under close watch in one of our “Squats” or “Hyperbolic Anarchist Bunkers”. Here’s how it works… “Sock priveleges”, “Shoe priveleges” and “Full clothing and leather jacket priveleges” aren’t just handed out. These privileges have to be earned. These out of control French possee are issued sock and hat priveleges only once they cease hiding matches and crumbled up wads of gum, and “Anarchist pamphlelts” in their socks. We even had one doomed member named “Le Phantom sparker” who took 4 years to get his “Sock and clothing priveleges!!!” He continually set fire to his shoes and socks, and applyed bald caps and layered socks expertly hiding lighters in his socks, to set his only wordly possessions ablaze. He was, of course, revered for this commitement to being an anarchist.

If Des ever caught wind of the fact that we were in “France”, we would defintely have to put extra “Ativan” and “Zyprexa” into his ginger ale, and mash the epival into his sushi and pizza, and elegantley slide his chow under the fuckin’ hotel bathroom door. We pretty much have moderately medicating Des down to a science, just like “Zee Germans.” “Germany”, as a “Dutchman”, Is like that total psycho older bother that you respect, but have to keep your eye on.

So, “Eastern europe” went ok for us as a band, except for a “Level 9 Meltdown”, when Des realized he wasn’t being let outta the fuckin’ hotel bathroom to view the infamous castle in “Transylvania” once occupied by “Vlad the Impaler” or as he is known “Dracula” or “Count Dracula” or I once referred to him affectionately as “Drac.” I remember, after I had finished screaming at that stupid tourist vessel called the “Harbour Hopper”, asking “Dracula” to turn off the fuckin’ sun. I yelled out loud, “Drac” buddy, Turn Off The Fucking Sun, I am fuckin’ sweatin’ through punk tees at an astounding fuckin’ rate, and I fuckin’ hate laundry detail. Especially when my “Ginger Ale Quota” is mega low.

Fuckin’ “Eastern europe” was fine, and we had Des so fuckin’ well medicated during our encore night at “L’artiste Zero” in Paris that he sleep like a baby. A baby that is 36 and rips hotel rugs up with pen knives and thinks it is terribly funny to order female escorts, then send them to get pizza and beer. “Scandinavia”, whole other kettle of fish. Des, managed to exit the hotel bathrooms 3 or 4 times. And, the infamous “Ravensburg Hotel” in “Oslo, Norway” “Tunneling fiasco” of August 2012…”FUCK WHAT A TOTAL NIGHTMARE.”

Des, tried, somewhat succesfully in “France” to join the infmaous “Pee-Pants Patrol.” By the time we left “Europe” the band was totally broke as joke, mainly due to the “Oslo Tunneling Fiasco.” After Des failed to consume out “Zyprexa Infused Ginger Ale” he went and ever so gently remooved the bathroom sink and tunneled his way from the band’s “Room 308” all the fuckin’ way into “Room 310.” We were off to do a radio\TV promo in downtown “Oslo.” That “Crazy Fucker” just flushed the fuckin’ ginger ale and consummed tap water, before ripping it outta the fucking wall. Well, it was “Punk as Fuck”, I will attest to that fact. We thought he had his morning quota of “Hyperbolic Psychiatric meds.” No such fuckin’ luck. The hotel bill was “Astro-fuckin’-nomical. So, I wish we had of left Des with the fuckin’ “Pee-Pants Patrol” in fuckin’ “France.”

…Quebec and Maritime tour Coming in Vol 2

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