You Thought We Were Stupid LAST Weekend

We're about to prove there's more to the Brat Pack than dressing up like silly green unrelated-to-the-occasion characters! Yeah, we're older and wiser now and will never screw up like that again.

We Have A Winner!

It's official! The polls have closed, and your votes on what is undoubtedly our world's most critical issue have been counted, some twice. By a landslide, Walkin on Sunshine is considered to have the juiciest of all bass solos, with a solid majority of 55% (32 votes.) TOM's mysterious supporters have hinted that they like it best because it takes the least time away from important guitar stuff. Apparently Bang on the Drum is dull and boring, earning only 21% of votes (12), with Head Over Heels not able to claim much of a lead (24% or 14 votes,) and that only thanks to Guido discovering how to vote multiple times.

How We Got Ready for St. Patrick's Day

In preparation for the huge green binge of the next two days, New Wave Dave did a lot of research on how the saint who led away Ireland's snakes came to be honored by so much beer and whiskey. Did he also drive out the monkeys and the elephants and the kangaroos, leaving nothing but potatoes and leprechauns and little pots of gold? Whatever, thanks a lot Pat! After cleaning up the sulfur explosion in his top secret basement laboratory, Josh of Seagulls synchronized a fleet of laptops for our massive instant message party at Tommy G's (now a hotspot). We've had the Jessbot on a charger since Sunday, following reports that his persistently low battery was upsetting female fans. TOMMY TUBULAR has been making out with the Blarney Stone in order to preserve his reputation as the most persuasive debater on earth. Menudo's on a secret mission, to be revealed next weekend at the Copper Dragon. And I spent the whole week at the Old School Dance Party Hip Hop Boot Camp, only to be suspended for letting a guest star show up with her hair a mess - no fair! - but at least I'll get to hang out with Guido. If he calls.

Get a Comb

We might at first be tempted to turn to the Blondie papers for guidance in how to deal with repeated instances of egregious hygiene. As it happens, the fault does truly lie with our own Lynndi Lauper who bears responsibility for the actions of all subcontracted guest appearances. If a hairstyle is too much to ask, then a brush may be useful. If no brush, comb, pick, or set of fingers can perform the magic we seek, Ms. Lauper may find herself with the weekend off too.

Think Donnie Brasco

Guido says he needs the weekend off to be with someone very special, someone from out of town with beautiful blonde hair. According to TOMMY, blondes are becoming extinct; he read it somewhere or saw it on TV, so it must be true. Anyway, I'm getting suspicious of Guido's time off, since you can barely recognize him in disguises like this one, and weird things happen right after his mysterious vacations. The last time, I got a phone call from Blockbuster about late movies. The time before that, nasty letters from the library about overdue new wave magazines. And pretty regularly, Big Brother just happens to show up at Guido-free gigs to issue double-tickets for fighting for our right to party AND for partying like it's 1999. I suggest everyone watch what they say around sweet sweet Mr. Menudo.

Irish or Not, Here We Come

So what if it's lederhosen?

So what if we're a delicious smoothie of German, English, Greek, Mexican, Sicilian, Puerto Rican, etc., and only one part Authentic Dubliner?

All we need is a whip, some green stuff, and the will to rock, and we'll be kissing the Blarney Stone as lovingly as the next guy.

Just Around the Corner

Behold!
The Shame and the Glory!

The greatest drinking holiday of them all approaches. It's enough to turn The Brat Pack green.

Where in the World is TOMMY TUBULAR?

In a recent comment, Jesse Van Halen brought up a very real concern, namely that TOMMY TUBULAR seems to have been sucked through the lampshade and into a parallel universe, never to be heard from again. If you can help us find him, you will be rewarded with RAWK forever.

Most Awesome Crossword Winner Ever!

Jeff Hintz, Quality Assurance Technician (is that the guy who makes sure stuff isn't crumbling or does he take complaints?), is so smart that he solved the St. Patrick's Day Crossword Puzzle with his eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back. And he solved it faster than anyone has ever solved one of our mind-benders! For this triumph, he will receive an UNOPENED (yeah, Larry, you heard right) copy of Carmen Electra's Aerobic Striptease DVD #1!

Go Lampshade!

This Saturday, TOMMY was either delayed at Menard's or abducted by aliens and then deposited in a subtle condition (in truth, he was the only Packer sexy AND smart enough to attend the 150th Mardi Gras.) Then, all of a sudden, Mister T Washington made a rare and fabulous appearance up front with the guy in the dress! Booties were shook.

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