At first, Garfunkel thought it might be the lame playlist of the oldish, inked up, bartender with dyed overcompensating jet black hair who perfectly mouthed the words to Seger’s “You’ll Acomp’ny Me.” But exiting the restroom, he saw that the music was emanating from a digital jukebox embedded in the wall. Though he died a little inside, Garfunkel was able to will himself through his trillionth listen of  “Hotel California” and “Go Your Own Way,” but it was more than he could take when “We Built This City,” by Starship, came into the mix.

His complaints about the music to his wife and friends were met with exasperated eye rolls and his wife running her finger across her lips for him to zip it. Garfunkel, however, was beyond annoyed—stealing his eyes, he said to himself: What would Henry Rollins do? What would Richard Hell do? What would Paul Westerberg do? When Westerberg entered his mind, he instantly knew what the moment called for—a really stupid and juvenile gesture on his part.

On a faux trip to the restroom, he loaded all the cash he had, a twenty, a ten, a five, and two ones, into the jukebox, and was absolutely giddy as he dialed up “Gary’s Got A Boner,” by Westerberg’s former band The Replacements, thirty-seven times. Once past Eddie Money’s “Two Tickets To Paradise” and“Renegade” by Styx, the glorious stupidness of “Gary’s Got A Boner” filled the air. Garfunkel returned to his seat and looked out at the bar like an exalted fifth grader who shot a spitball in his teacher’s hair and got away with it.

By the third spin, just past Bob Stinson’s face-melting guitar solo, Garfunkle’s wife caught on, punched him in the arm, and said, “You ruin everything!” He just smiled, still surveying the room, as the half-witted, silly verses started to piss off the entire restaurant/bar:

Forget about the lights, girls, and the cars
They never helped somebody so far
Grab a hold, gonna hold
You’re gonna stick it to her
You’re gonna stick it to her

By about the tenth spin, after fielding numerous complaints, the overcompensating bartender and other staff members stood in front of the jukebox, hitting the “delete” and “reset” buttons on the touch screen to no avail—Gary and his boner played on and on. By about the twentieth spin from the back room, you could hear the rumble of people singing the chorus:

Gary got a boner
‘Cause Gary’s got a boner
Gary’s got a boner
Gary’s got a boner no, no, oh, oh, oh

Being that it was South Buffalo, by about the twenty-fifth spin, some of the Irish patrons in the restaurant were whipping out their unimpressive junk. When this started to happen, restaurant patrons, all white-faced, quickly settled their accounts and left. Garfunkel was incredibly pleased with himself and this turn of events.

Driving home later after seeing the Steely Dan cover band Bad Sneakers at the Caz, Garfunkel’s wife again punched him in the arm and said, “All through “My Old School,” “Pretzel Logic” and everything else, the only thing running through my head was Gary and his stupid fucking boner, you asshole.” 

It was the cherry on the top of an immensely gratifying night for Garfunkel.
  

The post Music Snob Pisses Off Bar Playing “Gary’s Got A Boner” By The Replacements Thirty-Seven Times In A Row appeared first on buffalomud.com.

Said the President, “These kids are major losers. They all came here today with their lunatic left, DEI mindset, thinking they would just be given eggs instead of having to do the hard work of finding them. Sure, I had Little Marco crawling around on the ground finding eggs for me, and Stephen Miller upended all the fast and shifty brown and black kids, but I can tell you this, when it comes to coloring and egg rolls (both at the White House and Number One Kitchen), it’s all about winning, and I am the winningest, winner in the history of our country. No one has ever won like me, your favorite president.”

“Also, a lot of people are saying I should ship all those loser kids like Riley and Grayson and Zoey, who cried like little bitches after I beat them, off to the El Salvador prisons. Like Mike Pence, they couldn’t be counted on to fight for our country when things got tough. I can tell you this, I would’ve liked to have shipped off these weak assed kids, but we grifted something like $200K from corporate sponsors, and it wouldn’t be a good business to send these little losers to the El Salvador gulag, since I’ll need to shake these sponsors down again in the very near future.”

Future egg rolls are expected to be rebranded as “The Donald Trump Egg Roll.” The event will feature golden eggs and a golden trophy embossed with the president’s image. 

Details to follow as the president is again expected to spend the day haranguing another major loser, Fed Chairman Jerome Powell, and thus evaporate trillions more from Americans’ bank accounts.  

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Punk716 is a cover band playing old-school punk standards by the Sex Pistols and The Clash, newer punk by Green Day and Social Distortion, and punked-up versions of Elvis and Little Richard songs. While the band is still finding itself, they are admirably filling a vacant space in the pub music scene dominated by bands that endlessly vomit up “Don’t Stop Believing” and “Sweet Caroline” ad-nauseam. UNCLE, all-fucking-ready with those tunes. This fresh idea has led to support for the possible reinstatement of the “Bad Ronald” moniker. 

Particular high notes in the Punk716 set were covers of Elvis,’ “Burning Love” and Little Richard’s “The Girl Can’t Help It.” The version of the Little Richard tune is a cover of a cover done by the Trenton, NJ, garage rock band The Swingin’ Neckbreakers. Punk716 didn’t quite hit the ferocity button like the Neckbreakers, but it’s cerainly not out of reach for this upstart band. 

The Rock-n-Roll Board of Governors will convene this weekend at the Chelsea Hotel, 223 West 23rd Street, New York City, to discuss the matter over vodka martinis and numerous eight-balls at the very table where David Bowie and Lou Reed made out in 1973. Word on the street is split over reinstating the “Bad Ronald” name. Those in favor do so with the caveat—play deeper cuts by bands like the Buzzcocks and Oingo Boingo—the latter being the Uriah Heep of the early 80s. Others who are still opposed say we’re getting ahead of ourselves, pointing out the diminutive, and possibly hairless front man needs to create a more punk persona before he can be bestowed with the “Bad Ronald” handle again.

Here are some other perspecives on the Just Ronald/Bad Ronald debate:

Tom McDonnell (Dog Ears Bookstore)—How about we step back from this Just Ronald/Bad Ronald thing and find a middle ground? While we untangle this let’s call him—“Slightly Intimidating Ronald.”  

Iggy Pop (legendary punk front man)—Dude needs to lose the shirt and eat some broken glass.  

Maria Genero (former TV weather anchor)—You can’t front a punk band without getting spit on. I’d like to spit on that kid. I don’t care what his name is. I just want to spit on him. 

Aunt Edna (Ronald’s aunt)—Oh Ronald, you were such a nice boy with so much potential. Now you’re mixed up in this punk rock suff. Why couldn’t you stick to playing nice music like Bob Seger and Frank Zappa?  

Tim Watts (long-time friend)—Ron, I don’t care about your stupid name, When. Are. You. Going. To. Pay. That. Fifty. Back. To. Me. Motherfucker? 

Movement To Demote Local Drummer “Bad Ronald” To “Just Ronald” Growing

Lack Of Response Further Proof “Just Ronald” Demotion Warranted

Woman Narrowly Escapes Night Out With Local Drummer “Bad Ronald”

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The auction and liquidation of Infowars were necessary to satisfy a $1.5 billion judgment against the site’s founder, Alex Jones. Jones peddled the conspiracy theory that the Obama administration staged the 2012 mass shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School as a ploy to enact sweeping gun legislation. Jones also alleged that the families of the victims were complicit in the plot and the slaughtered children and staff were actors and are still alive. 

Upon inspection of the shed, Buffalo Mud publisher P.A. Kane found items that you’d expect a conspiracy gasbag like Alex Jones to have—emergency survival gear, tin foil hats, supplements and brain force drops, Ayn Rand books and lots of files with labels like how they turned the frogs gay, proof of reptilian overlords, Trump’s mushroom dick. 

But what really struck Kane and the Buffalo Mud team was the extensive collection of Hustler magazines dating back to the publications inception in the early 1970s. All the best issues featuring spreads by Asia Consent, Jenny Talia, Sigourney Beaver, Tasha Salad, and a curiously worn copy highlighting Amanda Pörq. Plus the erudite articles: “How Much Waxing of the Carrott is Too Much?” “ STDs You Can Live With,” “Why She’d Rather Watch Hockey Than Fuck You.”

Kane immediately posted pictures of items on Facebook marketplace, where they were to be sold to the highest bidder, with the proceeds benefiting the Sandy Hook Relief Fund. 

However, as Kane exited the shed after posting the items, from a hole in the ground some fifty yards from the structure, a dirty and shirtless Alex Jones charged him, screaming, “NOT MY HUSTLERS, YOU ELITIST DEMON SPAWN. NOT MY AMADA PÖRQ.” 

Skilled in karate, Kane quickly neutralized the disgraced conspiracy theorist and contacted the authorities. EMTs administered a shut-the-fuck-up tranquilizer to Jones and took him away. At last report, he had been admitted to a Houston hospital where he was twitching and shaking and occasionally yelling out: “PÖRQ…I NEED AMANDA PÖRQ…I NEED AMANDA PÖRQ…PÖRQ…”

Look for liquidated items on the Facebook marketplace.

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