We made it to the show in Philly yesterday, and even more miraculously… made it back home early this morning. Was it fun? Well, the show itself was great, but everything else was fairly shit-spangled. If this doesn’t earn me a bunch of “true fan” points, I don’t know what will. And we all know how useful those true fan points are.

All weekend I was obsessively checking the weather websites, hoping to get some good news about the snowstorm that was threatening to derail the whole operation. And it looked like it was turning in our favor by Sunday morning. The “event” had been drastically downgraded to 1 to 3 inches almost everywhere. The one outlier? Accuweather. They were still saying BAD TIMES FOR JEFF KAY. I’m pretty sure that’s how they reported it. So, there was no consensus, and even if there was… could you trust it? I think not.

But my son and I took off around 3 pm, and it was snowing almost immediately. I had a bad feeling, but I wasn’t going to be dissuaded. I’ve been waiting 35 years to see these guys. Why today, though?? Why is this shit happening at the exact time I need to be driving? It feels like it’s being done on purpose somehow. What’s going on?! It was what’s known as a wintry mix all the way to Philadelphia. It didn’t cause me any major problems, but it was enough to keep the deep, deep concern a-simmerin’.

We arrived way early but checked out the venue and parking options. And there didn’t seem to be any of the latter. The neighborhood looked sketchy, and I didn’t want to be hoofing it for blocks at 11 pm. Ya know? I had no idea what we were going to do about that, but didn’t want to just keep driving round and round in snow ‘n’ sleet, so we went off in search of a place to have dinner. And we ended up inside an episode of The Wire. I mean… just straight up ghetto. Fantastic!

After a few minutes of hangin’ with Bubbles and Stringer Bell, I told the boy to just punch Jim’s Steaks into Google Maps, and we’d eat there. At least that’s in an area where there’s only a 30% chance of death and robbery. Sheesh. So, we drove over there, through that shit mix, and I was getting nervous because it was starting to stick on the roads. What’s it going to be like at 11? This is complete bullshit.

South Street was nearly abandoned, because of the weather, but Jim’s was fairly busy. I parked on the street, CERTAIN I’d return to a parking ticket. The kiosks were all reading OUT OF ORDER for some reason, so I couldn’t pay if I’d wanted to. And the sidewalks were as slick as cat shit on a marble floor. But dinner was fantastic, as usual. Jim’s is my favorite cheesesteak. I don’t call myself an expert, of course. But I know enough to have an opinion. Here’s the boy sitting in front of our sandwiches.

There was no parking ticket waiting for me, which was a surprise. Oh, I’ve been to Philly many times… And while we drove back to the bizarre venue, I could feel the streets getting slushy and slick. Dammit! And then we got into an argument while looking for a place to park. We ended up on a public lot blocks away, which is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. But whatever. The guy there could barely speak English and was shouting, “You pay later! I be here! We settle up then!!”

So we hoofed it over to that freaky mausoleum building through a driving rain/ice pellet onslaught. And by the time we got there I was soaked all the way through. My shoes were 100% saturated, and it was like I’d just climbed out of a lake. Again: bullshit.

And I’ve been to many, many rock shows, and have never seen a place this small. Well, maybe bars. But this was no bar, this was a concert venue that looked like it might hold 150 people at full capacity. But it wasn’t at full capacity on Sunday night. I’d guess there were 75 people there. It was crazy. It felt like a private party with one of the coolest bands in the world playing later in the evening.

While the opening act performed, I noticed that Bid — lead singer of The Monochrome Set — was standing right behind us watching the show. It was surreal. It really did feel like a party. The openers, by the way, were The Jetbeats, and they were great. Reminded me of The Smithereens.

Then The Monochrome Set started setting up their own equipment. Bid was out there putting drinks on the monitors, and getting everything situated. No roadies… these guys travel light. And they were amazing! They did all the songs I’d hoped for and were utterly fantastic. I snapped the photo above, it’s not stolen from the web for a change. I noticed there were quite a few other dads there with sons. I wasn’t the only one. We have to pass this stuff on, it’s an obligation. This stuff is important! It’s the Monochrome Set! There’s some kind of crazy magic in that music.

So, that was a complete grand slam. But the ride home SUCKED IT. It was a true sphincter-clencher sustained across several hours. The turnpike was plowed in some sections, and not in others. And on the unplowed parts, cars were sliding around and it was scary. I’m not even sure my anus has ever fully released. Sweet sainted mother of Stuart Goddard! One to three inches my big riffled ass! Accuweather was the most accurate, and they were the ones I didn’t want to believe. It was horrific. Bad times for Jeff Kay, indeed.

But… as I finally pulled into our driveway at 2 am, I realized I was happy I’d done it. I wasn’t so sure 20 minutes or two hours earlier… Where do I collect my true fan points?

I hope you notice I didn’t talk too much about the music itself. I’ve been doing this long enough to know that that’s a non-starter. I’ll just go on and on about it at work and spare you guys here. No need to thank me.

By the way, I have the new podcast back, but don’t have time to post it before work. I’ll upload it tonight when I get home. UPDATE: It’s up!

See you guys again on Thursday!

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I don’t think this is anything new, but I’m now definitely in the “screw it… who needs the hassle?” stage of my life. I think it kicked in around age 33. That’s just an estimate, but I think it’s accurate. Prior to that, I was up for almost anything, at any time. And I mocked and judged people who seemed to prefer just staying at home and watching Beverly Hills 90210, or whatever. But I’m that guy now. Oh, that guy has arrived. However… I’m not so far removed from my previous life that I don’t remember my point of view back then. And it’s enough to make me feel guilty — as if I needed one more reason.

Anyway, this Monochrome Set show in Philly on Sunday night… There are giant hassles built into doing anything in Philadelphia. Ya know? And they’re always enough to tempt me to just say funk dat, and stay home. They include, but are not limited to:

• The two hour drive down there.
• Infuriating traffic on “the Schuylkill.”
• Finding a place to park that doesn’t require a three block hike through a crime-ridden neighborhood.
• The total cost of the endeavor.
• And the drive back during the middle of the night.

The show itself is almost always fun, but all the shit you have to endure to experience it is enough to say screw it, unless you really, really want to see the band. And in this case, I do. I’m willing to endure all the above and more. However…

Now there’s supposed to be a substantial amount of snow, starting Sunday afternoon and continuing into the night. Fantastic! I’ve been wanting to see this band for 35 years, and the universe is stacking the deck against me. The universe craves a funk dat for some reason. And I don’t think that’s even debatable. The universe is one spiteful motherfucker.

So now I’m considering driving down to Philly on Sunday during the early afternoon and getting a hotel room. If I leave around 1, I can probably miss the local snow. And the hotel room will stop me from having to drive back during some kind of crazy weather event on the Pennsylvania Turnpike after dark. But this plan adds some new bullet-points to the long list of aggravations:

• Additional cost.
• Where am I going to leave my car? Do those downtown hotels have parking?
• How am I going to get to the venue and back? Uber, I guess?
• Will I be able to get back in time to go to work on Monday?
• Will I still have to worry about the roads the next day?

There are probably others I haven’t even considered yet. But if I miss this show I’ll beat myself up for the rest of my life. But man… the urge to say funk dat is strong.

Stay tuned for updates. Hopefully, the “event” gets downgraded or forgotten by Saturday afternoon. We’ll see.

I posted a new podcast episode for patrons today. It’s right here. And this is the summary:

In this one I tell you about my efforts (I’m hoarding the efforts!), exciting and extremely vague news for $8 patrons, some disturbing news I just learned that could threaten my upcoming night of rock ‘n’ roll, concern about an impending appointment with our tax accountant, and one of the most amazing, perfectly executed TV shows I’ve ever seen. Also, the Totally Out Of Context Quote Of The Week. Thanks for listening, and thanks for the support!

I don’t have a Question, not really. But I’m curious about your personal Funk Dat threshold. Is it on a hair-trigger at this point, or are you still an anything goes kinda person? Please tell us about it. Have you noticed a degradation in your willingness to endure aggravations as I have? Use the comments.

And I’m calling it a day, my friends.

If you guys have Questions you’d like to have ME answer in a future episode of the podcast, you can leave those in the comments, as well. Or email them to me, whatever. I’ll give you a shoutout on the world famous Jeff Kay Show. Man, that’s prestige…

Have a great weekend, boys and girls.

I’ll be back on Monday, or maybe Tuesday. Ugh. I’m experiencing rock ‘n’ roll anxiety.

Now playing in the bunker
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In just a few weeks Toney and I will be DRIVING (ugh!) to Myrtle Beach, and staying at a so-called retro motel. In fact, it’s the one above. It was built in 1963, and over the past few years, somebody has poured millions o’ dollars into it to bring it back to like-new condition. All the rooms are completely refurbished and the outside is supposedly exactly like it was in ’63. Its grand re-opening was in September 2018, so it’s new. And old. You know what I’m saying… I love that kind of stuff, and we booked this trip on a whim. Possibly while drinking. Should be interesting.

The driving part concerns me. It’s a long, long ride. Longer than I feel comfortable with, to tell you the truth. But when you add airfare and a rental car… it starts to add up to a substantial number of dollars. The drive down will probably be OK because there will be a payoff at the end. But the ride back? Absolute, pure hell. I can already feel the Phantom Ass Syndrome settling in. But we’re going to look around the area while we’re down there, for a possible “retirement” location. So, we’ll have all that to discuss. Not sure we can wring eleven hours out of it, but we can give it a shot.

And in August we’re driving to Cincinnati for a Reds vs. Cardinals game. It’s Johnny Bench bobblehead night (ha!), and I sprang for the $20 add-on wristband which will entitle us to all-you-can-eat stadium food. Oh, it’s going to be a wonderful evening of baseball and high gluttony ‘neath the stars. I’ve never been to Great American Ballpark, and it opened in 2003. I still think of it as the “new” stadium. Oh well. I went to the “old” stadium many, many times. Looking forward to this one, big time!

Toney isn’t much of a baseball fan, but she loves tennis. And while we’re in Cincy we’ll also be attending the Western & Southern Open. It’s the same players who compete at the US Open, Wimbledon, etc. But it’s in Cincinnati. I’ve never been to a professional tennis tournament, so it’ll be cool. Hopefully, we’ll get to see Roger Federer, or Serena Williams, or somebody else I kinda-sorta recognize. Regardless, it’ll be interesting.

And, of course, we’ll be visiting Skyline Chili while we’re there, as well as the Reds Hall of Fame, and staying at a hotel in the heart of a million restaurants and bars. Should be fun! And unusual.

We’ve just begun talking about a semi-quick trip to Cleveland (more Ohio!?) with the boys to visit the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame. Maybe in May. Those plans are still in their infancy, and I’m not sure if they’ll pan out. I’ve been there, but nobody else in the family has. Toney wants to do something that includes the younglings this summer, and they’re all about the rock n roll. We’ll see. I’m not so sure about that one yet. Is it worthy of the drive?

But speaking of rock music, the younger boy and I are going to Philadelphia on Sunday to see a fairly (and unfairly) obscure British band called The Monochrome Set. I’ve been a fan of them since the early 1980s, and they rarely come to the United States. I’m flipping out, man! They are one of those bands I thought I’d NEVER get to see. Here’s a short video of them performing just a couple of weeks ago. I was going to try to embed it here, but it caused me problems, so fukkit. And by the way, their third album is one of my favorites of all time. You know, in case you were wondering. Check out this on-the-money review of it.

There have also been some preliminary discussions about me and Steve seeing Nick Lowe perform near Philly in April, but it’s not settled law at this point. And I might be attending a show with the older boy: the Claypool Lennon Delirium. Also, not confirmed.

So, there you go. Those are our weird summer travel plans. What do you have for Summer ’19? We didn’t travel at all for ten years, so all this still makes me slightly uneasy. It feels like it’s going to come back and bite us somehow. I don’t know a carefree lifestyle. I’m not at all familiar with that concept… Anyway, if you have any plans, please share. Use the comments.

And I posted a new podcast episode yesterday, literally seconds before Monday turned into Tuesday. But I made it! You can check it out here, or wherever you get podcasts. Here’s the summary:

In this one I tell you about my one goal for the weekend and how it turned out, the older boy’s chance encounter with the member of a famous jam band, a controversial stand I took at Cracker Barrel on Saturday night, the younger boy’s utter disgust at my eating habits, my opinion of the new Sheetz taco 3 packs, my purchase of baseball tickets with a $20 all-you-can-eat add-on, and The Whistle Dick of the Week! I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for listening!

I’ll see you guys again on Thursday.

Have a great week!

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Support us by doing your shopping on Amazon! In Canada? Here’s your link. Thank you, guys!

I haven’t watched The Breakfast Club in many years, and can’t remember a lot of details about it. But I do know I liked it. And that’s the way it goes, at this point. I often remember few particulars about old movies or TV shows, but still recall my initial feelings about them. And often those “feelings” are from 1985 or whatever, and are therefore questionable at best. Are you familiar with this concept? Your original emotional reaction is all that remains? Please tell me I’m not the only one?

Anyway, the mythology surrounding the film states that all the high school “types” are represented. I’m not so sure about that, but let’s go with it. I guess they’re roughly (from left to right):

The wild stoner
The jock
The eccentric weirdo
The perfect person
The smart-ass nerd

It feels like there are a few missing, right? How about The generic? Might seem a tad harsh, but you know what I mean. There were some generics around. What other ones are missing?

And, inevitably… I’d like to know which Breakfast Club “type” you believe you were. I was, without a doubt, the smart-ass nerd. Except I didn’t have a cool haircut and khaki pants like Anthony Michael Hall. I mean, check it out… Not sure why that picture is so grainy. It looks like it was scanned on the world’s first scanner. In any case, I certainly fit into the smart-ass nerd category. I mean, if it weren’t for the biting sarcastic remark, I would’ve had to shop for a new type, and I can’t have that. I might’ve been able to embrace The eccentric weirdo, but can’t see myself in any of the other categories. The generic, I guess. But what high schooler wants to be there?

Also, I have a secondary question for y’all. Imagine if the 17-year-old you could view a video summary of your 2019 life. What would 17 think about it?

In my case, there would be plenty of negatives. The Jiffy Pop haired gentleman above would have a hard time understanding how I got to be so goddamn portly, for instance, and would not be open to explanations. And he’d be confused about the fact that I live in Northeastern Pennsylvania. Hell, the 2019 me is confused about that one! And the way I make a living would probably be a disappointment. When I was 17 I had romantic notions on top of romantic notions. My current position would not fit into any of that.

However, 17 would be somewhat impressed that I was able to put together some semblance of a normal adult life. (He’d have no way of knowing that Toney is the brains behind the operation.) I can remember that he was confused about how any of that was possible. I’d look at my parents, and be baffled by it all. There seemed to be so many moving parts: a marriage, real jobs, a house, kids, cars, bills that needed to be paid… How does any of that happen?? I couldn’t see myself ever getting there.

And he’d probably be pleased that I’m reasonably happy, and have a wife and two healthy kids. And that I still have the capacity for the biting sarcastic remark, but have gotten better at picking my spots, if you know what I mean. And he’d love that I’m still on the prowl for great obscure music and that I’m kinda-sorta writing and doing a podcast. He’d be a little disappointed that it’s just a hobby, but he’d be glad that I hadn’t abandoned all that stuff completely.

I imagine 17 me would give 2019 me a B-. And that’s fair, I guess. Maybe a little generous… but I’m trying to be positive.

What do you have on this? Would 17 you be happy with 2019 you? And what about the Breakfast Club thing? Did you fit into any of the five categories the late, great John Hughes identified in the film? Please tell us about it in the comments. And by the way, it appears The Breakfast Club is streaming at Netflix. I might have to watch it again soon.

And I need to call it a day here, my friends.

Yesterday I posted a new podcast episode for patrons. I feel like I’m on some kind of roll with this thing. The new installments are not very focused, but I’ve been pretty happy with them. And that’s a rare emotion. Here’s your link. And here’s your summary:

In this one I tell you about living in a laminated world, the joys of being a regular somewhere, the pain of getting my tax info together, our close relationship with the IRS, my failed attempt to work for a high-powered carrot company, and my thoughts on a very real product described as “butthole chocolates.” I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for the support!

I’ll see you guys again on Monday.

Have yourselves a fine, fine weekend!

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I had one of those early morning “special projects” at work on Sunday. They happen every once in a while, and I dread ’em with a vigorous passion, my friends. Not because of the project itself — we’ve got that shit down to a science — but because of the early morning aspect of it all. Here’s what happened this past Saturday night/Sunday morning, and it was a fairly standard turn of events:

• Went to bed at 10, feeling drowsy and confident that I might get a few hours of genuine sleep.
• Almost immediately dozed off.
• Jerked awake at 11:11 for no known reason.
• Wallowed and thrashed for the next two or three hours, in a low-grade panic, and got myself thoroughly wound-up in the sheets like Fat Tut.
• Finally fell asleep again, seemingly minutes before the alarm went off.
• Walked around all day in a bizarre haze, feeling like I was having an out-of-body experience.
• Got home, free fell into a chair, stared straight ahead and drooled like I’d been lobotomized. Until Toney ordered me upstairs for a nap, which I resisted because I’m not the napping type.
• Came downstairs four hours later, watched Beachfront Bargain Hunt, and drank several IPAs.

It’s extremely disruptive to my otherwise unproductive day. And I still don’t feel 100% today. Oh well. We’re good for three months, or so. The downside? Those three months will pass in what’ll feel like four weeks. Another part of the tradition is everybody shouting a few days in advance: “Are you serious?! Didn’t we just do that??” Ah, it’s the circle of life.

I just went out to pick up some cheesesteaks from Nickie’s Fabulous Hoagies, which is indeed fabulous. And I learned that Sirius/XM has launched a Kiss Army channel (Ch. 30). Heh. I turned it on, and they were playing some kind of alternative version of “Detroit Rock City.” It sounds like it could be a fun channel, but I suspect I won’t be able to stomach more than ten minutes at a time. I mean… the 70s stuff is not very good, but somehow enjoyable. But when they get into the 80s… yeah, it’s time to seek other musical opportunities. Holy shitfingers!

Those channels devoted to one artist are frustrating. Like the Beatles Channel, for instance. They’re always playing artists the Beatles supposedly loved (??), and deep cuts from Ringo solo albums, and things like that. It feels like actual Beatles music is only about 50% of what they play. And the Tom Petty Channel plays a shitload of live recordings. I’m sorry, but I’m not all that interested in the 6/15/86 Des Moines, Iowa version of “The Waiting.”

But Sirius/XM thoughtfully provides you with many, many channels to jump to. ‘Cause none of them, with the possible exception of Little Steven’s Underground Garage, can keep me listening for more than 15 or 20 minutes at a time. Who’s with me on this? Can you remain on one Sirius/XM music station for extended periods?

My automatic “turn it!” prompts include, but are not limited to:

First Wave: Depeche Mode, Frankie Goes To Hollywood, Siouxsie and the Banshees.
Classic Rewind: Pink Floyd, The Doors, U2.

Except for Underground Garage, those are the two channels I listen to the most. I’m good for about 15 minutes on each. UG is by far my favorite. It’s genuinely interesting and good, until they go off on a long blues jag. I need upbeat stuff when I’m driving, thank you very much. Not some mournful tune about how a man couldn’t hold back the charm, a lifelong curse, and ended up destroying a beautiful marriage or somesuch. Is that every blues song? Probably not.

Anyway, I’ll check out the Kiss Channel, until they take it down. They put these things up for a month or two. Like the Billy Joel Channel, or the Rod Stewart Channel. It all sounds good in theory, but in real life… not so much. I think there’s a Springsteen Channel on there, and maybe a Grateful Dead? I like Bruce, but only from the 70s. And I don’t need a lot of the live stuff. Ya know?

They should have a power pop channel. I could curate that bastard. It would be the best driving channel of them all. Give me a call, Sirius/XM. I work cheap.

We’re supposed to get hammered with snow again tomorrow. And some ice, as well. That’s awesome. But the pitchers and catchers report this week, so spring is near. On paper, anyway; the warm weather comes a little later up here. But it’s not too far away, right? My newest podcast episode ended up being a bit baseball-heavy, but not in a baseball nerd kind of way… I don’t want to discourage anyone from listening. Believe me, it’s all about my frustrations. Check it out if you’re so inclined. Right here, or wherever you get podcasts. This is the summary:

In this one I tell you about the time I almost died due to unbridled hick fury, a classic rock guessing game, the man who repeatedly mispronounced the word saga, the final chapter (hopefully) of our dishwasher adventure, a new Johnny Bench documentary I watched on Saturday, my gut-wrenching Johnny Bench Night story from 1983 that still makes me twitch and grimace, and a small sign that I might still be semi-human. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for listening!

And speaking of podcasts, I have another one I’d like to recommend: No Redeeming Qualities. One of the hosts edits and produces my show, and does a damn fine job of it. He and a friend host NRQ and it’s genuinely funny. I mentioned their Wheels of Justice episode recently, and would like to recommend it again. I also have a story to tell about their program, which I’ll share in the near future. In the meantime, check ’em out. They’re funny and smart.

Which podcasts are you listening to these days? In addition to NRQ, I’m still on Marc Maron, sometimes Carolla, a weekly Reds podcast called Redleg Nation, Tom Scharpling’s The Best Show, and Rhett Miller’s new program called Wheels Off. And that’s about all I have time for these days. Four or five years ago I’d rip through twice as many shows, but not anymore. Do you listen to any podcasts? Tell us about it, won’t you?

I’m off today, and it’s glorious. It’s been nothing but coffee, cheesesteak, and disgraceful shitsackery all day long. Just the way I like it. I might go upstairs now and crack open the Kindle, read a few chapters of a kickass book I’m reading. Or maybe go out for an hour or so. We’ll see how it goes. All options are on the table. It’s glorious, I tell you!

Have a great week, my friends!

I’ll see you again on Thursday.

Now playing in the bunker
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