Ghoulection 2012: Transmission Three

Maybe I should’ve shut my stinkin’ trap about how smooth things had been going. Breaky brakey!

We had a four score of fun in Lincoln, NE. Lincoln was particularly fun watching all the whitest ever Ed Hardy wearing douche bags go out on the Friday night pub crawl. We got to watch one get arrested and taken down after trying to cold cock his friend and then resist arrest. It’s fun when you get to cheer for the cops beating the shit out of some one, and oh so rare.

We rocked out in Boulder, CO. Grand Junction was grand. We were all a bit zoned out from some night drives as we rolled into Flagstaff early. It was about time that we got the rebuilt transmission checked out at another AAMCO. BAH!!!!

The trailer was dropped and the van went up on the lift. And then it sat there. We watched across the street from a diner as the van was not let back down. This is a bad sign. Turns out, the front rotors needed replacing and some coolant tubing was leaking that was missed when we had the rebuild done in New Jersey. This free van of ours was costing us a lot of money.

The staff was friendly and took us and our trailer to the show over at the Orpheum Theater. They said they’d have the van done by five o’clock, and indeed they did. It cost us a bunch, but we hope, we pray, this is it. The show in Flagstaff was great and we saw a lot of friends out in force for that one.

For this tour we’ve upped our game a bit, taking notes from Every Time I Die and Gwar on the last tour. We’ve incorporated wireless systems into our rigs. This is hardly punk, but when you’ve got a robot and a proto-human fighting on your stage while trying to play, having the ability to nimbly get around becomes paramount.

That’s my new, and more expensive than my own amplifier, wireless unit. My Sansamp Bass DDI sits atop it. The wireless receiver is part of the Sennheiser ew172 G3 wireless pack made for guitar and bass. I was looking into the previous model, a G2, but it turns out that it doesn’t carry the full note frequency below 40Hz. That’s theoretically detrimental to my bass. Tuned to D standard, my lowest note is 36Hz. The G3 goes down to 25Hz. It also has infinitely more transmitting frequencies available than its predecessor. I can’t say I’m stoked on investing so much on something made after 1980, but we really needed it for these kinds of shows. I can bounce around stage so much easier these days.

We drove all night yet again to San Diego. Heading into California I was excited, until I was stopped at three different checkpoints along Interstate 8, the most fascist of American interstates. The border guards took especial delight in asking me why my face was covered in red dye. Try explaining shock rock to a guy looking for trucks full of Mexicans. It was all worth it to get to some California air and sunshine and play an awesome sold out show at the House of Blues. I even got to pull apart a fight between some dick bag and the lady security guard he was hitting! Reminds me of all those old blues houses along the delta, alright, right along with the nine dollar beers.

Apropos of little is this awesome picture of Sean at our friend Doug’s house in San Diego. Coolest house ever, with a coffin entertainment center, multiple skeletons in the wall, and secret compartments everywhere.

We made our way to Ventura the next day and more much needed California sunshine and weather. We hit the beach, looking kinda like the gang that Frankie and Annette were going to have to expel in order to save the Big Kahuna hut along the shore that all the kids did the twist at.

The show was loads of fun with lots more friends coming out again. Joel from Toxic Holocaust sang a ditty with Municipal Waste, which gave time for Tony to drive onto stage on a pink scooter with a pink sparkly helmet in an attempt to emulate Judas Priest. I think even Rob Halford would’ve said, “That looks a little gay.” But what fun!

Another night drive, and we showed up to the Senator theater in Chico, CA. Hippies abounded. Fuck hippies. Good god, there was more burnouts here than in an Oakland sideshow. The show itself was a lot of fun, though. The kids raged and we got great back stage seats to see GWAR. We’re still a little desperate for cashola, though I didn’t have any idea how much until the band tried to auction me off.

Luckily, Ross Sewage is not an in demand product round those parts. Halfway through our tour, we head home for a night in a city we all left our hearts in… and a few hearts we dug up along the way.

Doktor Ross Sewage

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