What the fuck, America?Seriously, can we pause here for a fucking second?
Where did it all take a wrong turn?
The above is Bill Bramanti of South Chicago Heights, Illinois. Pictured with him is his Pabst Blue Ribbon coffin. He plans to be buried in it. I guess he's not a Budweiser guy. Or a good taste guy for that matter. By the way, is it just the perspective of the picture or is there an Oompa Loompa dress as a doctor, tending bar in the background?
If so, THAT'S awesome and this guy rules, therefore negating my entire rant that's about to happen!
But back to business at hand...where did it all go south? Where did we decided pride was over-rated?
Ok, fine, I've had my hand in it too...I mean I've done my share of drinking...maybe a bit more than my share at one point. And I used to have quite a fine collection of Iron Maiden, Metallica, and Slayer t-shirts back in the day, that would proudly adorn my overweight upper body as I drove around in my 1977 Chevy Suburban with 40s on it. I've been in mosh pits while watching Danzig perform, after downing a pint of Jagermeister on the way to the show, and then closed off my evening by hitting the Taco Bell drive thru and ordering 3 Mexi-Melts with no pico sauce and a Burrito Supreme. Then the next morning woke up pissed remembering that I didn't have enough money with me the night before to buy the "oh so badass..."God Don't Like It" Danzig t-shirt.
What? Are you fucking nuts, it would have TOTALLY complimented my Slayer "Reign In Blood" shirt that read "Do You Want To Die" on the back!
You CLEARLY have no fashion sense!
That was me once upon a time.
Today at the age of 37, I go to the YMCA to....huh?...oh fuck you with your Village People shit!
I go there to work out! See, I've been trying to slim down AND I've recently learned that my triglycerides are a bit high, so there!
I eat sushi and drink fancy cups of coffee that no one DARES simply call "Small, Medium, or Large", they are "Grande", "Venti"...or "Half Note" and "Full Note".
Ok, in all honesty the place with the "half note" shit was even too much for me to deal with.
I mean, there IS a line.
But my point in all this is that over time, I've adapted and evolved, and that even in my worst moments of driving around in that Suburban, blasting "Angel Of Death", and staring at guys through my mirrored Aviator shades (who were then at the stage of life I am in now) with utter disdain and a splash of sympathy for their "sell-out" status...even then...EVEN THEN, I never ONCE thought it would be awesome to be buried in a Jagermeister bottle.
And you know what the worst part of all of this is?
The Joe of 2008 thinks Mr. Bramanti is a complete fucktard.
But the Joe of 1988 that still lives somewhere in here deep down, wants to salute him.
I think I need therapy.
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