We weren't going to do this again, because the last guy was a disaster, but because Colby's been such a flake lately, Margo decided we needed to bring someone else in to help us out with the website and blog.

So we'd like to introduce Marty Rabinowicz, this summer's intern. He'll be making things hum behind the scenes, in more ways than one.

Written by Girth McDürchstein

I took the contract to Feinstein. The band had absolutely no complaints about the deal (in fact, the phrases "thank fucking God" and "holy fuck why didn't you sign already" were tossed around liberally), but I figured I should take it to a lawyer to make sure Mildew wasn't trying to fuck us in some way.

Feinstein checked it out as thoroughly as he usually does, and he said it was fine—"nothing objectionable," he said. "In fact, it's a suspiciously good offer, all things considered."

Read More of "Mildon't" »

Written by Girth McDürchstein

He mentioned it, so I finally got around to checking out Colby's blog. It's fucking terrifying. After this, I hope I don't hear from him.

Written by Girth McDürchstein

Dean Charleston had a smarmy look about him—skin so deeply tanned it had begun to develop premature wrinkles, teeth so blinding white I would have needed sunglasses if I hadn't already been wearing my mirrored aviators, hair so greasy you could plant a flag in it. He sat at the end of the conference table with some other A&R people—one go-getting blow-combed junior-executive wannabe, the other a bored-looking goth chick—when I walked into the room.

"Girth," he said. In person, his voice oozed game-show host affability that I hadn't heard when I spoke with him on the phone.

"Mr. Charleston," I said, shaking his hand. I extended my hand to the others, who looked at me like I had offered them a shit sandwich. I withdrew my hand and sat.

Read More of "Mildew Meeting" »

Written by Girth McDürchstein

Getting back wasn't too bad. To our surprise, we got most of the deposit back for the van, despite driving it through several cornfields and streams during our unfortunate mushroom tripping in Kansas. The flight was only 15 minutes late leaving Cincinnati, but it got into LAX early.

After touring the snowy, then rainy Midwest, I was happy to get back to the sun-dappled majesty of Southern California.Click image for a larger view

Huh.

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Written by Girth McDürchstein

"It's glorious," I gasped as I stared up at the beautiful old stage of the Dayton Ecumenical Youth Theatre.

Turning to Margo, I said, "You know what we could do?"

She thought for a moment, then scowled. "No."

"Come on," I said. "It'd be perfect."

"We don't have the money," she said. "Remember?"

"I'll look backstage and see what kind of props, costumes, and set dressings they have just lying around," I said. "It's feasible."

"Where are we going to get actors on such short notice?"

"We'll act, just like we used to."

"Okay, then," Margo said. "Where are we going to get musicians on such short notice?"

I sighed. Margo had just dashed my dreams of doing a fully staged rendition of Girth McDürchstein's 'The Hedge' for the first time in four years (you'll remember, my attempt in celebration of The Hedge's fifth anniversary didn't go well).

Read More of "Tour Blog: Dayton — 'The Hedge' Redux" »

Written by Girth McDürchstein

"I've fucking had it!" I screamed. "I quit, man! Fuck this bullshit band, and fuck you!"

I punctuated those last two words by pounding my index and middle fingers into Girth's chest. He had a stunned, slackjawed look on his face, an expressed that made me want to feel bad for him, but when I thought about all the fucking lies and the bullshit, it made me want to yell "fuck you" all over again!

Read More of "Tour Blog: Columbus — Family Ties" »

Written by Mikey Parker

This morning, I got up early and went down the street to get a cup of coffee. The weather was nice—not too cold like it's been lately. So down at the coffee shop, I found myself stuck in a line. I hate waiting in lines, waiting for all them people to stand around figuring out what they want, like they haven't been standing in line for 10 minutes waiting for other people to decide, time they could have spent looking at the menu board and making a decision. All I want is a damn cup of coffee—no donuts, no scones, none of that shit. Just coffee. And I have wait endlessly.

Read More of "Tour Blog: Cleveland — American Splendor" »

Written by Girth McDürchstein

I was bummed when we got into Fort Wayne yesterday morning and I saw this on the front page:

Click image for a larger view

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Written by Girth McDürchstein

From the moment I saw the bastard impostors, I knew something bad had happened. I didn't know what, exactly. I just knew, off the bat, that it wasn't Girth. Plenty of folks have tried to impersonate Girth over the years—he's a favorite of those standup comics who claim to find the metal scene ridiculous even as they desperately try to impersonate and impress with their own, shall we say, limited musical skills. They get the voice or the mannerisms, sometimes even both, but there's something about his swagger—maybe you have to be married to understand. I could tell if a man walked in the room dressed identically—hell, cloned or whatever these mad scientist assholes were up to—and know from the way he walks that he's not my Girthy.

Read More of "Tour Blog: Traverse City, Part 2 — Infiltrated" »

Written by Margo Atwater