I Don't Know If I'd Call That Art

All right, this was not from the last tour, but the one before.  Or before that maybe.  Shit, sometime in the past three years, is that okay?  And yes, it's New Orleans.

Huh...No recollection of this.  I was probably off getting buried alive like that guy in "The Serpent and The Rainbow."  You all remember that movie right?  Yeah...I have no recollection of that movie either.  (Goddamn, what is wrong with that blogger guy?)  So this is what happens when you go to a sports bar in a strange neighborhood alone on a Thursday afternoon and start drinking beer.  The hell else am I gonna do?  We're back from tour and I'm thirsty dammit.

Your job: laugh at Zack's package and think about how much fun that old-man-monkey-drunk is having and how much Zack looks like him.  Hey, why is that monkey allowed to have a bottle on the street and I'm not.  How come when I bring a bottle onto the street the cops tackle me and shove nightsticks in my butt?  Huh?

Notes From The Road - February CA Mini-Tour

Where did I leave off here?  Right, we were in Capistrano Beach and Santa Cruz or something.  For you six or seven people still following our progress on this godawful blog, sorry for leaving you in the dark for a while.  Internet is a precious commodity when rolling around in the van and, honestly, a resource not often mentioned in land management and water conservation discussions.  It's running out everybody; just ask Al Gore who invented it.  Isn't that what that movie was about?  No?  Oh, nevermind.

So anyway, we were in Stockton, Fresno, and Redding at the end of the wee baby tour through the broke-ass state of California.  And here are some stories for you told with my signature blend of cynicism, logic, and disgust.  Starting here with some missing posters.

February 8, Stockton, California.  We had just read an article about how Stockton is now considered the "most miserable city in America."  Yes, that's the actual designation now.  It says it when you drive into town.  "Welcome to Stockton: America's Most Miserable City."  No, not really.  We found this missing poster hanging on a pole by Starbucks.  Not thinking too much about it, I snapped this photo for your pleasure (discomfort?) and went along my jolly way.  Then we went down to the hood, battled cockroaches by the car wash, saw the billboard explaining that there have been 48 murders so far this year, and the "most miserable" city in America seemed a bit more plausible all of a sudden.  The next morning, the same Starbucks, the same pole in the same town square by the same shitty corporate movie theater, old Joe Mendoza's missing poster itself went missing, replaced by this one:

Is this a daily occurrence in Stockton?  But yeah, this time, I left the phone numbers visible, because they are Sheriff's Office numbers and I think Stockton needs your help.  Either people are just dropping like flies out there, or there actually are reptilian shapeshifters out there harvesting human organs for their lizard-man sustenance.  I'm going with the latter.  If you see "Joe" or "Eva," let the Sheriff know.

Well, now that my public service portion is taken care of, let's make fun of people.  Starting with the California government.  Come on, guys.  Your main interstate is I-5 and you can't even keep that one nice.  Really screwing up my writing time with your bumpy ass roads.

Yeah, my heart's just not in it right now.  There was downtown LA next to heroin addict tunnel.  There was Stockton, where apparently people disappear and get killed daily.  Then Fresno, which has a bit of an identity crisis.  Then Redding, which was cool.  I know it sounds pretty absurd to say Redding is cool, but you guys really treated us well.  Thanks for the pig meat, beer, and shows.  No thanks to Robin at the gas station who wouldn't sell us cigarettes because we had Oregon IDs.  Boycott USA Gas.  How ironic that a place called USA Gas will only accept local IDs.  Well, Robin, we're from Oregon so you better get your ass out here and pump our gas for us, because we don't accept out of state self serve pumps for our vehicle.  No?  Fine, I'll just spend my money at the Shell down the street where the toothless tweaker lady has no qualms about it.  Happy?

Santa Cruz and Capistrano Beach - Gooooood Times

We were in beautiful Santa Cruz, California on Friday.  Sergio the Lost Boys saxophone player was a no-show, but there were plenty of other swarthy folks in attendance at the bowling alley we played at.  So, here is the flier for the show.  I found this one sitting crumpled up on a table and I'm not quite sure what it means, but that's what I'm here for, right?  To find strange artifacts and tell you about them.  Or lie to you about them.  Or whatever it is I do when my brain is polluted with liquor.

Someone took the time to circle the band names and then, promptly, cross a couple out for some reason.  Maybe they were keeping a tally of who they liked and didn't like.  We, apparently, were not a big hit with this person, and were debased in the fashion of a "no smoking" sign.  But let me defend myself.  The rumors are untrue.  We don't cause cancer.  Reports of the hazards of exposure to the Sawyer Family are greatly exaggerated and unfounded.  The studies done on the subject have not been rigorously peer reviewed and rumors abound about scientists interpreting their results in a biased way to lend unfavorable impressions about us.  There is no reliable evidence supporting the claim our music is addictive in any way, or harmful to the public health.  This is all I am willing to say in the matter, as my lawyer has advised me.  For more information, contact the law firm of Strickland, Strickland, and Lowenstein, Crow, Oregon.

In related news, we played Coconuts in Capistrano Beach last night.  We were introduced to many of Kyle's old friends and some unsavory folks I would rather not mention.  But I'm gonna anyway, so take that, myself!

Immediately upon arrival, we were greeted by a man who very adamantly, and repeatedly, informed us of his history of guitar playing.  38 years.  38 years he's been playing guitar.  With UFO, and Montrose.  He didn't even take off his golf spikes, see?  38 years.  He's played with UFO.  He's been playing for 38 years.  He didn't even take off his golf spikes.  Well, you see how the conversation went.  ALL NIGHT LONG.  Yes, sir, I remember what you told me twenty minutes ago.  38 years, golf spikes.  Got it.  No, please do not try to help us load our gear.  It is painfully obvious that you have had approximately 36 beers tonight, and I don't really have the money to replace an amp shattered on the concrete like a fumbled pint glass.

Thanks to Coconuts Bar, Zombie Cartel, Victoria, and everyone else who came out.  We had fun, except for the 38 years guy, and that other drunk hippie who tried to sell us wool hats.  Do I look like the kind of guy who'd wear a wool hippie beanie?    

Hey, That Thing Looks Pretty Nice

"LOST GREEN SUITCASE, On 12th and mill Alley with clothes and handmade lazy susan, $50 Reward for returned items, If you have any information please contact Kelsey"

I don't fully understand this person's use of capital letters.  I guess "Alley" is the important part of the proper name now.  Yes, I know, it's a low blow to make fun of grammatical errors, but what else am I going to say about this?  A lost lazy susan in a green suitcase?  Makes you wonder what it's worth.  Oh, right, fifty bucks.

I'm sure some bums found it, searched through it and took what they wanted.  Now they are sitting in the bushes by the river dining in style, spinning that lazy susan around so the whole crew can get bites.  Pinto beans, spin, navy beans, spin, lima beans, spin, black beans, spin, Boone's farm.  It's great because Boone's can be the tasty beverage with supper and the dessert.  Because hobos are really good at multi-tasking.  

Thanks Tara for this one.  Keep looking.

There He Is, The DUI King

Howdy from the road.  The mini California tour has now begun.  We played in Chico, California last night and, after a couple months off, it was pretty good in conjunction with the free Schlitz and Olympia.  Fitting, since this is the stencil on our parking space as we pulled up to the rear of the club.  And the rear is just how we like it...

DUI King?  Well, at least he has a nice parking space.  Maybe it will keep him from driving home and becoming the DUI emperor.  Given that this was near the courthouse, perhaps the DUI king is the cop who ruins everyone's lives in Chico, so much that he gets his own parking space during the day to meet the drunks in court.

Anyway, thanks Chico.  Thanks Kat and Bucket City.  We won't hold it against you that your cat, Mr. Miyagi, sprayed our sleeping bags.  We didn't even feed him to our tour dog, Elvis, because we're consummate professionals.

Sorry I'm not too funny today. Just woke up and internet on the road is a precious, sometimes rare, commodity.  I haven't even finished my coffee yet and it's about time to leave already.  Coming your way Santa Cruz.  I just know that slippery Spanish sax player from the Lost Boys is coming tonight.  please,please,please...

Extra Extra, Sawyer Family Wins a Grammy

Not really!  God, you're gullible.

I don't have a hell of a lot to say about this.  So I'm going to talk about other stuff.  Also, just a quick warning; stay tuned to MISSING because the Sawyer Family is going on the road really soon, and that is when the good stories will come out.  Before I forget them and then try to relate them after the fact, with all of the stretches of the truth I am prone to in my arrogant illusions about myself.  I'm often wearing a cape or something and kicking eight dude's asses at once, flexing like Bruce Lee.  OoooAhhhhh!  HeeYa!  Just punched your face off.  Then I tackled a deer, put it in a choke hold and sold its kidney on the black market.  Don't worry though.  He woke up in the woods with nothing but a headache and a small scar.  Because I'm also an excellent deer surgeon.

Anyway, The Sawyer Family starts a mini-tour with our new agency, Bucket City, Thursday February 3rd.  It's just California for ten days, but don't worry rest of the country.  We'll be there in March or April for the big tour, that is, if the US still exists and is not plunged into an ice age like that Dennis Quaid movie.  I hear it's like that in some places right now, without the Jake Gyllllleehaauulllhhh, or whatever that guys name is.  The fuck kind of name is that anyway?  Here's the dates:

Thursday Feb 3rd - Chico CA, Lost on Main
Friday Feb 4th - Santa Cruz, CA, Coaster's Bowl, across from Lost Boys Amusement Park
Saturday Feb 5th - San Juan Capistrano, CA, Coconuts, that's somewhere between LA and San Diego
Sunday Feb 6th - SUPER BOWL - We didn't get that gig, so I'll be writing and not watching.  Go Samurais (they're a team, right?)
Monday Feb 7th - Redwood Bar, Downtown LA, which is in California I think.
Tuesday Feb 8th - Stockton, CA, Blackwater
Thursday Feb 10th - Fresno, CA, Audie's Olympic (Yeah, I got a bronze in the olympics once.  In javelin)
Saturday Feb 12th - Redding, CA, Bombay's.  I thought it was Mumbai now.  Hmmm....

If I got any of this wrong, then you figure it out.  I'm not a publicist.  Maybe a PUBEicist.  I know, really mature huh?