The Calabrese Thunder Express is Coming for YOU!

October 11th to October 21st, we'll be blasting our way through the greater east-coast are in our "Dayglo Necros LIVE!" tour, 2012!

Starring Jimmy Calabrese as "The Italian Tiger," Bobby Calabrese as "The Martial Artist Guitarist" and Davey Calabrese as "Davey Calabrese."  Special, live appearances of Space-Bob, an adoring audience and a lot of strange sweat!  If you love us at all, please do what you can to help spread the word.  Tell your freinds, warn your enemies, mark your calenders with an old pirate dagger, complete with an "X marks the spot" X.  And as long as I'm making arbitrary demands, I would also like for you to wear a costume to the show.  Any superhero will do, as long as your wearing uncomfortable spandex and a cape.

Just go to the show, man.  Just go.

BECAUSE THIS IS THE LAST TIME WE WILL BE IN YOUR AREA THIS WILL BE THE END OF CALABRESE.

Alright, no.  In fact, not only are we going strong, but we already have some pretty exciting tour news for early next year, which we're really looking forward to and eagerly waiting to announce.  But, yeah, if I can spare to spill any beans, it would be that we'll finally be making the rounds up the west coast and through the middle of the ol' USA.  Not a whole lotta east coast areas.  So these current October shows are, like, really good and perfect for you people from New Yawk and Bahston and Chicawgo.  God, you guys sure do talk weird.

See you on the road, Universe!

ANIME EXPLOSION.

!!!

The best part of the Internet is expressing every inconsequential, boring and trivial filler you're currently thinking about at any given time.  Opinions are expressed, views are blogged, no one gives a shit.  Like, seriously.  When was the last time you read something on the Internet that changed your life?  When was the last time you posted about anime and was sent a twenty pound box full of burnt DVDs?  OH JUST TODAY THAT HAPPENED TO ME FUCK YEAH.

Joshua Byrd sent this to the Calabrese Manor, specifically addressed to me, specifically because he knew I don't have a life.  I suppose the Internet is good for something after all!

What you're about to see is movie madness, a sonic load of the ultimate collection of wasted time.  It's everything I've ever dreamed of -- a carton the size of a nightstand packed with movies, movies, MOVIES.  All I mentioned was that I was getting deep into the seedy underworld of violent and robo-oriented anime, and to my surprise, I was given it all (and more) in the perfect Halloween/early Christmas present.  This really is the best thing to have come into my life right.  Because I like surprise boxes.  That are just for me.  Jammed with mind-rotting films and television.

Too bad this is overwhelming as fuck.

No, really.  It is.  Because look at that.  Underneath the first layer of scattered DVDs lies three more rows of neatly and tightly packed DVDs.  I gave up after the fifty mark, but it's safe to say there's at least thirty-thousand discs inside this thing.

Essentially, Joshua did what I've always wanted to do -- own every single movie ever.  Admittedly, the idea sounds outrageous,  but once you start laying out a battle plan...things start to come into focus a bit more.  The impossible now seems vaguely possible.  How?  Well, thanks to Netflix, you can have a steady stream of movies sent to your front door on a near-daily basis.  All that would be required of you is that upon the arrival of these DVDs, you were to instantly burn them to another disc, send back the DVDs as quickly as you can and do it all over again the next door.  Or whenever they arrive.  Not sure how this shit works.

BUT this is what Joshua did, and this is what I've always wanted to do!  If you were to keep it up for years...dare I say you could own a solid portion of most of the movies ever made?  Or at least movies that have been released in the US.  Or at least in one, specific genre.  Fine, you'll definitely own more movies than all of your friends combined.  And that's about it.

But hey, it's a valiant effort in over-consumption.  I love the idea, even if it's offensively idiotic.

I fully intend to watch this box full of anime.  No, that's a lie.  I fully intend to watch all the best stuff.  I already asked what were some of the highlights hidden among the rubble, which were then promptly picked out and put away until further notice.

Each one is labeled and in order, which is such a nice touch that I hate to admit that during their journey from Joshua's house to mine, they dissolved into a scattered mess of plastic and frustration.  I wouldn't have it any other way.

Thanks, Josh!

Ancient Calabrese Artifacts Number 32: Old Dungeons and Dragons Pewter Figurines.

This is a good one.  A real good one.  It's even better because to get at it the ancient Calabrese artifact, you have to go through a used and dusty fanny pack.

Calling a fanny pack "used" is disgusting and equally confusing, so I apologize.  I'd also like to apologize for running through this quickly.  I think the whole "fanny pack scandal" put me in a weird mood.

So.

What's in that fanny pack?  You didn't read the title of this post, did you?  Please tell me you didn't.  YOU'RE RUINING MY LIFE YOU RUIN EVERYTHING.

Let's take a peek!

I think some of that dust got into my mouth.  I'm too young to die!

Dungeons and Dragons pewter figurines!  These are D&D, right?

Got these from my own closet after a week of spring cleaning, which was originally stored away in my older brother's closet.  In the past, I've yammered on and on about the pure glory and magic that is an Older Brother's Closet, and today will be no different.

Growing up, there is nothing more sacred than the hidden treasures within these dark walls.  Once you've garnered enough bravery to breach the initial bedroom's entrance, you're free to roam inside this magic kingdom.  Dig deep, my friends, push past the clothing and sneakers and schoolbooks and you'll find what you've always been looking for:

Really cool fucking shit.

Broken skateboard parts.  Comic books with gratuitous violence.  Actual weaponry.

Alright, they were rubber ninja stars, but you know what I'm saying.

Unless you don't.  You don't?  What I'm saying = everything in that closest was awesome.  Even if you didn't understand it, even if you actually quite feared it -- it was still unbelievably sacred and raw.  Like a dead kid on the side of the road next to the railroad tracks.  You will never be the same again.

What were these rated on the Cool Scale?  About a 7 out of 10.  At this point in my life, D&D was pretty gnarly.  Trolls, witches and the occasional frog with a pocketknife were the weirdest things I could imagine, so it was all I could do to expose myself to this nonsense as much as I could.  The manuals alone would be fascinating, along with the toy line and, God Almighty, the Fortress of Fangs.  These unpainted gems held a specific charm, too, though.  They were tiny.  And came in a box with foam divider pockets to keep things safe.  Worked for me.

I'm tellin' ya, kids toys back in 80's were THE BEST.  It seemed that everything that led up to that point was...alright.  As soon as whatever the hell happened to make it happen, all "boy toys" hitting toy shelves were monstrous, evil and nearly dabbling in the occult.  It seemed like everything either featured a demon with a gun, or a gun that turned into a demon.  It's possible that "He-Man and the Masters of the Universe" paved the way, and everyone latched onto the idea as quickly as possible, but it felt like that whatever you bought, it was covered in slime or featured a back story where the main character was in allegiance with Satan.  Or dated Satan back in college.   Whatever you wanted.

Movies catered to this idea.  Everything that made it big in the theaters and then as a line of toys was, I swear, about some really fucked up monster.  Or featured a fucked up monster.  Just think about it.  Then think about how that will never happen again.  Then cry in the shower.

Hell, even something as seemingly innocent and moralistically sound like GI Joe was a bunch of war-mongering terrorists.  And that's totally alright, because that's so fuckin' cool!  The lead terrorist wore a royal blue hood and talked like a snake!  You can't beat that!

So, anyway.

If there's one thing I go nuts on, it's that specific moment in time where all these memories stemmed from, where this endless nostalgia begins.  Later, the Ninja Turtles and everything else super-neon-extreme would usher in a new era of action figures, and although I would enjoy this decade, it just wasn't the same.  There wasn't any robed devils.  Just a lot of sharks in the street and motorcycle mice from Mars.

It's this specific time of being a bad kid and sneaking into my brother's wicked-sweet closet.  It's this longing for secret treasures.  Which, today, is a handful of little, unpainted figurines and shit.

These are my favorite of the bunch:

"Oh!" says the guy with toast strapped to his chest.  I think he's so upset because in act of trying to look tough, he cut deep into his left hand with this broadsword maneuver.  Now he's stuck in that position so no one will think any thing's the matter.  Because, naturally, they will mock and tease him for hurting his hand.  It's a tough life.

This is one Bad-Ass dude, as evidenced by the jutting lower teeth and helmet/hat made from a skull.  You'd want a lot of these types of guys, I'm sure.  But don't listen to me.  I have no idea how to play Dungeons and Dragons.

Witches, to me, were always pretty scary.  Pulled back hair, sunken eyes and the skin was always paper thin and vein-y.  And the idea that they would suck out your guts and poop into your heart.  Or something evil to that effect.

Did you just...?  Did you just hit yourself in the head with that mace?

Good, good times.  So good that I'm forced to stuff them back into their fanny-pack home and store them under my bed for the rest of my life.

Oh, nostalgia.

DragonCon, 2012!

So, here we are.  Weeks after our trip to Atlanta, GA for the loud, chaotic world of DragonCon.

First off, it took us a day to drive down there.  A day.  We were invited a month or so before the actual event, so we couldn't book shows to play leading up to the big bopper.  It would have helped with the pounding boredom and insane task of driving non-stop, but I'm not complaining.  Really.  DragonCon is well worth any sort of trouble.  I just wanted to let you know how hardcore we are.

A full day of driving.

Now, here we are.  The initial buzz has worn off, as well as any remaining "con-crud" inhabiting my body, so it's with great honor that I finally present to you...DragonCon, 2012!  If you made it this year, you know.  You just know.  You understand what it's all about.  But if you've never set foot inside a circus of comic books, cosplay and really big swords...here ya go.

Our booth was settled in the main hotel (this behemoth of a con spans across multiple hotels) and was open twenty-four hours a day.  For whatever reason, the bands were the only ones with this never ending schedule of hocking, selling and shilling, so you're kinda fucked if you're into that "sleep" thing.

Most guys pack up for the night and re-open in morning.  Unfortunately, we're not like most guys and have a truckload of merch.  We've been down this road before, so it was with a sadness in our hearts and a constant flow of overpriced, hotel coffee in our hands, we knew what we had to do -- stay awake for an entire Goddamn weekend.

We took turns throughout the day, and our dad stayed up through the night while we slept for a few hours.  Our hotel wasn't easy to get to, so it was all kinda in vain.  By the time we got to the place, we essentially just turned around and headed back.

Man, the first night we all stayed up, straight from the van and into the con.  I thought I was dying, my insides hurt, my brain was fried, etc.  But it was worth it.  I think.

And yes, people dress up.  IT'S THE BEST PART.  That's Jimmy and I with He-Man.  Just go ahead and say it.

"That He-Man's portly as all get out."

"He-Man?  More like 'He-Manatee.'"

"By the power of Twinkies, ho!"

There?  Feel good about yourself?  Can we move on now?

Most of the day I was super stoked and excited to shoot TONS of photos of us with anyone who dressed up as that guy from that sci-fi show or that anime no one's ever heard of.  These people are my favorite part of conventions.  It's just so much fun.  Sadly, the thrill was gone after any caffeine wore off, hence, lack of any of these photos.  I feel like I missed so much, but it's hard to care when you just don't care, ya know?

Fortunately, I had enough sense to take a photo with the "Kali-Ma Guy."  He even went the extra mile and pulled out a fake heart from my chest.  I then made a Diarrhea Face and it got weird.

One of the cooler parts of DragonCon is the artist gallery, where people sell anything that constitutes as art.  If you've ever wanted a centerpiece in your home that borders on confusing, tacky and brilliant, this is the place for you.  

BUT THE COOLER PART is all the comic book artists, and artists in general, who are there to shake hands, sign your shit and potentially be on the "Calabrese Artist Hit List."  These people are prime for the picking, and we buttered up quite a few associates.  We met Dave Baker, who we've always had our eye on for art, and who was really stoked on the idea for some possible collaboration.  I think the free CD helped.  

There's a guy who goes around drawing people, apparently for free.  I assume for tips, but I also assume that  Davey didn't bother.  Davey hates tipping.  Maybe that's why the guy drew him with lazy eyes and a beak.

This girl was great.  It's such a rad thing to meet fans, but it's even better when your fans are fans of other great music.  That sounds wrong and full of myself, I know.  It's, well...she like The Cramps, Subhumans, so on and so forth.  I like those bands, too.  They're the sensai and I'm the young student.  When someone likes us, too, it makes me feel legit, like we're finally leveling out with the top dogs.  Or something.  I'll shut up now.

Really, the only other photo with cosplay nuts.

Not necessarily because of these guys, but seeing everyone dressed as superheros, crime fighters and comic book villains, I realized how much I want to wear spandex.  I realized I never have, and if I don't act fast, I don't think I ever will.  It looks so free and comfortable and weird.  And I really wanna do it, some way, somehow.  Am I closet cosplayer?

And, of course, the show:

Thanks to everyone who came out to see us play, said hello and kept us occupied and entertained.  It was a hell of a task to pull off, but we did it.  We did it 'cause it's fun, exciting and because of any woman who dresses as Catwoman.  Good gravy.

Rock and roll commandos, man.  Get on it.

Shower Curtains.

Yes.

Yes.

They always say it's "the little things in life," and I stand firm behind this sentiment.

Currently, my shower curtain is unbelievably disgusting.  You know how it gets that white, soap-scum looking film?  And it ceases to deflect water in favor of being slippery and gross and kinda more yellow than white?  YOU KNOW YOU KNOW.

There's nothing better than a brand new shower curtain liner.  They're cheap, they brighten up your life and they smell like a plastic action figure the size of a doghouse.  I usually stock up on two or three, but two or three are never enough.  I like to feel secure in clean shower curtains.

I wouldn't say I'm a neat freak.  Or a clean freak.  Or a freak in general, for that matter.  But there are certain things in normal household living that just grate on me.  The feel of crumbs under your bare feet on te kitchen floor, a sink loaded with dirty dishes, weird smudges on windows, couch cushions that aren't properly aligned, fucking dust everywhere, etc.

Well, hell.  I guess I am a clean freak.

Looks magnificent.  The other one is in the trash, the new one has turned my bathroom into a paradise.  The little things, man.  I swear.

But it doesn't feel right.  This doesn't feel right for my blog.

Oh, better.  Much better.

Oh, and DragonCon?  I'll get around to it.  Every time I think I wanna delve deep into the landscapes of a skewed memory, I get caught up in something else.  Mainly anime.  Did I mention I'm obsessed with anime now?

Don't worry, I'm not one of those guys.  The "anime crowd," if you will.  Nerdy, frumpy and the skin color of Cheetos.  I'm well aware of the giant library of celluloid I'd have to blow through to become an expert in the genre, so I've picked a few key staple to get me going.  Which is anything from the 80's, so long as that 80's stuff is about giant robotic violence.

God, it's such a beautiful thing.  I'm not sure how I got into it (again) but here I am.  DragonCon's endless vendors hocking the junk sure didn't help my cause, either.  And I only say "again" because this is my second bout into the genre.

When I was younger, I had a friend who was really into the stuff.  He knew all the shops to visit, all the videos to watch, all the Japanese soda to drink.  I had no idea what to expect, but since he was my only friend in middle school...I was right there with him.  And, boy howdy, what a trip.

The art is astounding, insane and neurotic.  I never saw anything like it!  So foreign, unique and loaded with animated boobs!  Battles hypnotize, the constant action is nearly mind-numbing.  I felt really...weird when I watched it.  But a good kind of weird.  I still get that weird feeling.  And ff I could somehow manage to write a record that made the listener feel what I feel while watching "Akira," I'd be set for life.  My music = possibly seizure inducing.  What's so wrong with that?

But yeah.  Stick with me.  DragonCon recap comin' up next!

Creeping Crud.

Just got back from our trip to Atlanta, GA for the yearly explosion of costumes, vendors sweaty armpits known as DragonCon. It was a long haul to Atlanta and an even longer haul back (I already read my only book) but, as any convention with cute girls in superhero costumes goes, it was well worth the trouble. We stood by our table for three straight days, played a show at precisely midnight and just took in all the sights and sounds of a wonderfully chaotic convention.

I love it. I love the absolute surrender to order and normalcy. You wanna dress as the dude from "Firefly?" What about Harley Quinn from Batman? A piece of pizza? A Fembot from "Austin Powers?"  A pimp version of Boba Fett? Starfox? Contestants from the Nickelodeon show "GUTS?"

GO FOR IT THERE IS NOW LAW THERE IS NO ORDER.

I'm gonna cut this short. Because. BECAUSE. If there's two things I don't like, it would have to be reiterating the same thing in different words (I'm gonna beef this one up in a later blog) and the thousands of disease-filled freaks touching, rubbing and either accidentally or purposely groping you. I'm not a germ-freak. Far from it. Unfortunately, my body suffers in this lack of giving a shit. 'Cause I came back with something nasty. I'm harboring a blast of juices and snot, a sore throat and a pounding head. I went to DragonCon and all I got was a case of the creeping crud.

So I'll have to finish this one up later.  With pictures and stuff.  And, of course, complaints.  What am I even doing here if I ain't complaining?

I blame it all on this guy:

More to come.

I'm gonna lay down on the floor now.