Sexy AND Smart!

After several weeks, TOMMY TUBULAR, last-minute winner of the sexiness poll, finally cracked the code, solving the TOMMY trivia crossword puzzle that had everyone else stumped! For this triumph, he wins an all-expense paid trip to Taylorville this Friday night. And we'll bring him back too!

New Brat Pack Instrument

Jesse VanHalen has a new keyboard idea that I think you're all going to love.

I think the picture is pretty self-explanatory.

Say What?

Tommy G's is now a hot spot! You can stick your kids over in the germphobe's nightmare next door and sit around all day blogging and tipping your bartender, and then when we show up for the St. Patrick's Day extravaganza, we'll bring our laptops and IM each other whenever one of us goofs (Hello McFly!) or thinks the others should look up (Fight!) That's not just gnarly, it's bitchin.

Now It's a Triple Dog Dare

Some would have given up hope by now. Bass players and their stupid union have way too much power. As if it wasn't enough for them to control all three branches of government and to get away with concealing hundreds of TOMMY's sexiness votes (yeah, pollhost called to report this suspicious activity), now they attempt to bully those of us playing in the higher frequencies. What has the world come to? The phone is ringing off the hook with people crying about how tonight they won't get to see the Jungle Party Love a Lot Care Bear AKA Guido Menudo, and how uncool the rest of us are for not being fully credentialled taco joke tellers. And now Sixteen Kendells, clearly an agent of the union, has taken to dropping little hints that he has somehow assisted New Wave Dave in asserting his superiority at Daddio's. Hey Kendells, I didn't get an MA in crypticology for nothing! But you don't have to worry, Joliet Jen and Dennis Myspace and Matt Myspace Plus Honeys, the non-bass playing segment of this band has plenty of ego strength, computer hacking skills, and sexy threads. We will not be intimidated tonight. We will kick to the gods of rock more gloriously than ever. And we will turn those bossy bass players all the way down in our monitors and do just fine without them!

C'mon, New Wave, I Double Dog Dare You!

Okay, New Wave Dave, you've made your point. You can win the sexiness survey anytime you want, whether it's by commandeering a hundred computers, hacking pollhost.com, bribing the wireless gang down at Espresso to vote for you, or hoodwinking TOMMY TUBULAR devotees into using those funky paper ballots and then saying they don't count because you're scared of papercuts. Go ahead! Everyone knows that in a contest of who rocks hardest, even such very dirty tricks will not help you!

Why Bass Players Need a Union

More secret spy photos from our Christmas party (these taken by the party crasher with her special third eye implant camera) show an early attempt to organize and the tragic results. I'm in the background doing my best to bust the nascent union, trying to confuse Menudo and New Wave with praise for their vocal performances. There's Larry laughing behind their backs, and since everyone knows that all sound engineers are bass players, I can only figure him for a potential scab. Later, Sixteen Kendells, who claims to know so much about bass players and their unique occupational hazards and fears of inadequacy, suggested Larry hit the road after he said something very rude about guitarists.

Cheesecake baby

word has it that some sax-player-recruiting' no-good-keyboard-playin' robot requested homemade cheesecake last night. He is (as usual) too late, but...because he's so damn adorable, I thought I'd comply (so here's your picture JVH)...if Lynndi calls me, I'll give the recipe...

Lynndi in Charge

I know I probably shouldn't be publishing this photograph, but I thinks it's important that you - the Brat Pack fans, know the truth behind this band.

Lynndi Lauper rules with an iron fist. And she's not afraid to use it to keep everybody in line. Just look at poor Tommy Tubular - he talked about only giving 105% effort before the show at S2X instead of the Brat Pack's customary 110%.

Needless to say, he gave 112% effort that night. Way to go Lynndi!

Proof That We Aren't Lip Synching

Once when we played in Rock Island, some guys brought that question. Maybe they were tricked by our magical 20th century electronic equipment - you know, how could we rock so hard without megaphones? Or maybe they couldn't believe our dead on performances, such as forgetting the words to Material Girl in just exactly the same spots Madonna goofed on her hit single. Perhaps they figured five people as sexy as we are (refer to sidebar survey) and with such terrific dance moves could only be professional models and therefore not likely to carry a tune. Fortunately for us, as we venture to the Quad Cities this weekend, I have compelling photographic evidence from the last gig there. It demonstrates that we are, in fact, a hologram, and therefore could not be lipsynching.

What If I Am Injured by the Second "T" in "Hott"?

Due to the recent Bass Players Union takeover of this blog, and owing to their excessive display of forbidden linguistic oddities such as "booty" and "hott," of which they are apparently fully credentialled users, I am beginning to fear for my safety, not to mention job security. What if their subsonic ultraglam wavelength shakes that extra "t" loose, and it smashes me in the forehead like a flying headstock? The Brat Pack had many a fabulous chick singer before me (that's Madawna on the left and Gloria Newton John on the right), and I'm sure they'll carry on without me, but you better pray they don't cut corners by doing drag again.

Lovingly, Madawna Shared Sweet Rhymes

Madawna was the first of many fabulous chick singers in The Brat Pack. She continues to watch over us, making sure we stay 100% romantic for this holy holiday. Today she sent along several enchanting entries from a Washington Post competition. We adore you too, baby!


Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss
But I only slept with you, because I was pissed.
*************************

I thought that I could love no other
Until, that is, I met your brother.
**************************

Roses are red, violets are blue,
sugar is sweet, and so are you.
But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead,
the sugar bowl's empty and so is your head.
**************************

Of loving beauty you float with grace,
If only you could hide your face.
****************************

Kind, intelligent, loving and hot,
This describes everything you are not.
******************************

I want to feel your sweet embrace,
But don't take that paper bag off of your face.
*******************************

I love your smile, your face, and your eyes --
Damn, I'm good at telling lies!
************************************

My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife --
Marrying you screwed up my life.
************************************

I see your face when I am dreaming,
That's why I always wake up screaming.
*************************************

My love, you take my breath away --
What have you stepped in to smell this way?
*************************************

My feelings for you no words can tell,
Except for maybe "Go To Hell."
*************************************

What inspired this amorous rhyme? --
Two parts vodka, one part lime!

Tasty Treats

Jessie Van Halen, a.k.a. Jessco White, suggested to me recently that the brat pack may be looking for a head chef, and that, moreover, I, Jaybriel, might fit the bill. He is under the mistaken impression that I am the same person as the writer of the blog Better than the Rest(aurant), found here: http://eatingcheznous.blogspot.com . I encourage him to check his facts First

Mr Van Halen, or is it White, is clearly wishing he could eat my famous 7-layer nachos, purchased serruptitiously from the T.B. on University avenue. Are they endangered. I think so.

New Wave Dave's Night Off

What does New Wave Dave do on his many nights off from the Brat Pack? I'm glad you asked! Here is a short list of his important duties as back up Brat Pack bass player:

• Rewatch all movies starring one of the Cory's
• Clean, press, and organize the band's parachute pants collection
• Test new 80's props for durability, flexibility, and fun-ability
• Master the facial expressions of Anthony Michael Hall
• Write petition to bring back New Coke
• Do 80 push-ups and 80 sit-ups
• Relax with a good issue of Tiger Beat
  

Oh Why Did the Grammies Have to Suck So Bad?

Prince without a Revolution? Aerosmith with no Run DMC? Sting on his own, no Police protection? It's enough to make a man act like the Easter Bunny. As if this wasn't confusing enough, I didn't notice a single appearance by Flock of Seagulls, AC/DC, the GoGos, Bon Jovi, Blondie, or Devo. Were they backstage gagged and bound by all those bodybuilder divas? They didn't even have the ghost of Michael Jackson there to judge a moonwalk contest. On the upside, there was a pretty convincing Madonna impersonator, and some guys who looked a little like U2 won something or at least acted like they did.

Like DJ Katy Said It Would Be

That's DJ Katy squashed somewhere among us at S2X in Cool City. She told us we'd do it, she told the audience we'd do it, so we altered the space/time continuum and set up at http://myspace.com/bratpack80. New Wave Dave was the mastermind, but he's not evil enough to poison the guys who already claimed "bratpack" and "thebratpack" over there. Don't worry - there's time, and I'm on the case. We already have friends and fair-weather friends and friends of friends and friends who act like they don't recognize us when they see us in public and friends who make us not need enemies. But we couldn't let the world's hottest DJ down, right?

I Told You GI Joe Was Trouble

Didn't I warn you that GI Joe is always ready to drop trou? Even after Sixteen Kendells hauled him off the Tommy G's stage this weekend, he snuck right back on just in time to slip out of the shiny silver Brat Pack Dancer pants and show off his stylin' briefs. He wasn't even drunk or anything!


Here's more proof of his bad influence. With the tiny spy camera hidden in my corsage at our Christmas Party, I snapped these photos of Joe telling TOMMY how funny it would be to smash a beer bottle over the mouse's head once they lured it in with promises of rock stardom and cheese. Poor TOMMY - everyone's trying to spoil his image. I wouldn't be surprised to learn it was Joe who slipped me the mickey (careful, that's a pun) that made me think TOM was a Willy Wonka toy.

What the Sharp Dressed Man is Wearing Down Under

Separated at Birth!

I really was the real Madonna all along!

Separated at Birth?

One is a tennis star from the 80s, and the other is New Wave Dave disguised as that very same tennis star from the 80s. See if you can figure out who is who!

Separated at Birth?

Sometimes when we're playing, I look over at TOMMY and think he's really a Willy Wonka Action Figurine. Who could blame me?

Separated at Birth?

Okay, who would you trust with your most fragile calculations - Josh or Al?

Separated at Birth?

One of these pictures is Guido at an ISU gig, and the other is the Jungle Party Love-A-Lot Care Bear. Even in person it's hard to tell the difference, since when you rub their tummies, they both squeek, "I love you! How about a hug?"

Separated at Birth?

I give up. You tell me which one is the Jessbot 3000 and which is Lieutenant Commander Data of the Starship Enterprise.

Separated at Birth?

Electric Larry and Something from Fraggle Rock. You have to look really carefully to see any difference. It's spooky.

pinky pie please

a pac-butt is one thing, but what could possibly compare with a strategically placed little pony tat? Sunny daze on your cheek, rainbow bright on a thigh..minty...pinky pie...the tantalizing possibilities are endless... ah the dreams of '80s glory and little pink play things...

Pac Man Ass Tatoo

What could be more 80's than to get a Pac Man ass tatoo? Free Brat Pack show admission to anyone sharing their Pacbutt with the band.

-New Wave

Ligers

What hath man wrought?? And, more importantly, why is Nicholas Cage feeding this liger with a baby bottle? And why does this hideous hybrid keep growing?

What secrets do Nicholas and his friend with the horn tatoo have in store for us? Is this part of a plan to take over the world? Will Nicholas, his friend, their dreadlocked lady-friend and the liger be at the next brat pack show? Count on it.

The Esteemed Bass Player Union and You, the Brat Pack Fan

It's not easy being New Wave Dave. The demands on my time as a bass player in the Brat Pack are unending. Keeping the beat, cueing everyone where to come in on songs, preparing props, telling Electric Larry how to run his PA, preventing the JesseBot from playing too many notes - it can all take it's toll. Can you imagine asking just one Bassist to do all of this, night after night, year after year?

Well, neither can the Bass Players Union, which is why late in 2004 they intervened to establish a 2 bass miniumum in the Brat Pack. This provides not just for a safe and fair work environment for Guido Menudo and New Wave Dave, but it also assures you, the Brat Pack fan, that you will receive only the highest quality low end rumblings, brown sounds, and high quality plastic giveaways at every Brat Pack show.

What is the Bass Players Union, you might ask? I'm happy to tell you - it is an esteemed organization that has existed for centuries, promoting the 3 key values of bass - Volume, Volume, Volume. There can never be too much bass in a band or in a mix - just ask Electric Larry.

And in the Brat Pack, the Union has expanded its codes and bylaws to include distribution of fabulous props and giveaways as part of the acceptable range of job duties. Can you imagine Josh of Seagulls trying to calculate how many lai's to give out in Bloomington vs. Springfield? Or Tommy Tubular trying to decide between wrap around sunglasses and ones with dollar signs for eyes? It's an awesome responsibilty, and one that Menudo and New Wave take very seriously.

To summarize, here are some of the benefits of having 2 Union Bass Players in the Brat Pack:

* Increases band sexiness by 600%
* 2 sets of amazing stage moves to dazzle crowds with
* Mind boggling arpeggios and ingenious chord substitutions now a regular part of "Jesse's Girl"
* More souvenir photo ops with handsome devil for star struck Brat Pack fans
* Less chance to get stuck with a souvenir photo of yourself with a drummer or keyboard player
* More opportunities to block view of Josh of Seagulls while he is singing Billy Joel
* Guido Menudo now has time to lick ALL props before giving to audience
* Still no bass solos or bass vocals

Science Update

On my way back from the mall, I stopped by Josh Of Seagulls' secret laboratory to see how he's doing on the gyroscopic burrito redistribution report. He wanted me to let everyone know he's fine and that we shouldn't worry about him because he's got some support from prestigious foundations and is making great progress. I told him what Jaybriel said about trends in top secret basement laboratory research.

Manthers, Mermaids and Ape-men

Where oh where is Lynndi??? It's been hours since she posted a tasty tid-bit to read. We're dying here already.

Until she's back, check out the danger posed by manimals here:

http://www.salon.com/ent/video_dog/politics/2006/02/01/manimals/index.html

Jaybriel

The Trouble with GI Joe

Everyone says we're really lucky when we can have GI Joe on a gig. They ask, "What could possibly go wrong with Joe around? He's a top-flight, first-rate crew member. He keeps Larry occupied (i.e., not showing off his salsa dance skills to the ladies) by killing the power at random points in the show. He's right there at the bar whenever you need refreshment and even risks his own life making sure every drink is tasty, free of poison, and not overly full. He takes off his pants after being told only once. He keeps the waitresses out of your way while you're humping gear. He's a fun-loving, great looking guy, a tremendously talented musician, and a fabulous driver. So how come you can't bring Joe all the time?"

The trouble with GI Joe is he makes us look fat.

A Written Warning

Watch it, Lauper. I am everywhere.

The Falconer Speaks

All right everyone, now just settle down. I'm here to make sure this whole thing doesn't go south, and I'm just the man to do it. I've been reading some of the blog entries, and have decided we need some rules. I know if this blog is left unchecked it will become a kind of Brat Pack rocket ship flying out of control into some sort of rift in space and time... a space gash, of sorts. Now, if you must question why it is I who get to make the rules, then you obviously don't belong on this blog, so please leave now.......... Is it all clear? Ok, now I shall now outline the laws of the 80's in so far as they apply to blogging, which we all know was invented in '86. First of all, it's got to be funky. If it ain't funky then it sucks. The funkier the better. On a scale of 1 to 10, it should be funk-teen. Numero dos: Please refrain from smoking cigarettes while logged onto this blog, us non-smoking folks appreciate it. Ahem. The third rule is not really a rule - don't fabricate or exaggerate anything on this site, we have to keep it real, people. Lastly, all references to me, TOMMY TUBULAR, shall be done in capital letters. This also includes my aliases: THE FALCONER, T. ALAN FALCONER, TOMMY TWO BEERS, THE CRUSHER, TOMMY G, CAKEY G, NAUGHTY ROCKSTAR, THE BEAST FROM THE EAST, BRODY RON JOHNSTONSENSON, and TOMMY KNOCKERS. I just made that last one up. So much for keeping it real.

HA HA HA BRAT PACK! CHIX ARE BURNING UP THE BLOG!

Well, lookee here!

Smellen beat New Wave to the punch with her profile, Joliet Jen is prowling the cyberwebs while Tommy and Josh practice cryonics, and one of our former lead singers is getting the new Mac with Pentium so she can make Jesse Van Halen look bad! The other former lead singer checked in to announce she'll soon travel the world in search of superior quality footwear, and she doesn't have to share it! And I heard a rumor at the mall last night that the Brat Pack Dancers are connected to the Sasquatch comments.

So who cares that the Board of Directors paid too much for silly focus groups and now won't hear Jen's appeal? She got her hi-tops before the links disappeared anyway. And who cares if the Jessbot never runs as smoothly as it did before it was hacked and forced to eat all the peanut butter fudge? Not us. We know how to fix everything with safety pins and duct tape and a thesaurus. And what's it to us if Guido's undies aren't as shiny as they ought to be? We've got therapists and okay insurance, so we'll get over it in time. Hey, we're not even going to worry about the missing burrito anymore - we just don't need the hassle. Brat Pack Chicks rock no matter what misfortune befalls us. As long as we have Larry.

Has Anyone Seen Guido's Package?

What's Missing! I check the web site, and on the first page is a photo of Guido Menudo. I looked long and hard at the photo, but I have to admit, no package. This might be a photoshop trick but I'm starting to wonder about him. Any ideas?

It's An 80s Moral Imperative

Happy Monday, Brat Pack and friends (sic). I hope you slept well because I sure didn't. I kept thinking about how bad it would be to forget to remind ourselves about the top secret bload oath we took in the dressing room at S2X this weekend. New Wave Dave has a Brat Pack related email address, but I can't remember it, so I'm going to have to drive over to Tommy's house and throw rocks at his windows to wake him to ask him the new email address so that I can then post it HERE so that you can send begging letters to New Wave Dave or Diamond Dave or Artsy Fartsy Dave or whatever he is today. Plead, cajole, and threaten the guy to infiltrate myspace.com. DJ Katy said we'd be on there, and I am not willing to cross the sexiest DJ on earth by making her look like a liar.

Then call Guido and ask him to run over to Josh's house to have him call Larry to see if he would be willing to spend his lunch hour driving around Tommy's house honking the horn and running his truck up into the yard in order to wake Tommy up so he can create his profile and see what a mess I've made of things. Tommy is going to be hopping mad when finds out the Jessbot's security was compromised and that the hacker got peanut butter fudge all over Jaybriel's new computer. I am almost finished with the new Jesse Van Halen settings, and the Jessbot 3000 is about 87% recalibrated. The new lube is working like a charm (thanks, Larry!) So tell Tom all of that. I'm going to bed.

We Finally Won Something!

WOW.
This is incredible! We are totally honored to announce that, thanks to an average of 4,932,108 hits per day and our consistently blazing political discourse, we have been named The Best New Blog of January 29, 2006 by the Commission to Distract People from Important Junk Like Having Dinner or Getting Some Sleep. I just got done talking on the phone with the Commissioner about all of our social security numbers and street addresses and the like, and he said our check's in the mail! This is just overwhelming.

Will Josh Ever Find the Burrito?

This weekend was very difficult for us.

Yeah, sure there were all those delicious, hot Pinch Penny Pub pizzas, the most talented audience EVER (I can't say which, but you know who you are,) uneventful drives to and fro, superb crew-manship (Ateri and Sixteen Kendalls,) few technical problems, minimal loss of blood, a blindingly sexy DJ, enough duct tape for all, well-controlled facial hair, and pleasant conversation. But one night, after we were all loaded out and ready to hit the road, our very own innocent Josh of Seagulls was pulled into such unexpected suffering and woe that we ALL now require a period of cleansing. Please keep us in your prayers.

Josh had paused by the loaded van, calculating pi as he typically does in moments of repose, when a young man emerged as a phantom from the fog, approaching with heart and soul outstretched. Their eyes locked for what seemed an eternity, until the man could shake off his alcoholic stupor for a second and string together the words that will haunt Josh, and every life Josh's life ever touches, forever: "Dude, did you see a, like, huge burrito fall outta my pocket when I ran by here before?"