January 4, 2022
I was looking through my Franklin Daytimer archives for an episode of stress related hyper-active thyroid and I ran across this little tidbit:
The Butthole Surfers In Full Butthole Mode
We were standing over there behind the drummer at stage right. Next up was "The Funk Junkies." Really angry stuff. Many bottles and shoes hitting the stage.
Ah, for the old days when a Slurpee to the face actually meant something.
This just in: Bill Glenn (remember, the kid whose uncle is Bill Compton, the man Compton Terrace was named for) sent me this: "I still have a shirt from this show. We were on stage while the band The Phunk Junkeez we’re playing (my favorite band at the time.) They we’re throwing t-shirts into the crowd and I caught one while we were on stage. To this day it’s still too big for me, but I can’t bring myself to let it go."
"I was riding my cruiser down in West Hollywood
And a girl came driving by and she was looking mighty good. Well, I was eating quaaludes like butthole surfers should. She left me there, right there where I stood."
—The Butthole Surfers, lyrics to self-titled song, one of the few stanzas I dare even quote
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