Punk is Dad, Vol. V

Oi.

My best friend, BP, has always been reliable when it comes to informing Kimmel (one of my best friends from high school and college) and I informed on when and where noteworthy bands are passing through our neck of the woods. We've made it a habit to check out certain acts - most notably Rancid and The Bouncing Souls - whenever they pass through Chicago, Detroit, or Grand Rapids.  I'm glad he stays on top of this sorta thing 'cause I sure as hell don't.

During the winter, BP discovered that Social Distortion - a pioneering punk band that came out in the early '80s but really hit their stride as a punk-ish rock band in the '90s - was coming to Grand Rapids on July 5th. My 27th Birthday. We all agreed that, while Social D isn't one of our all-time favorites by any means, they're still awesome and for a mere $50 we could check out one of the most essential bands of the genre (and cross that off the ol' Bucket List.) Kind of a no-brainer.

They had asked me in the weeks leading up to this if there was anything in particular that I wanted to do beforehand, considering it was my birthday and everything. I only had two stipulations: 1.) I wanted to shop at a record store on my birthday, because that's become a tradition of mine over the course of the last five or six years, and 2.) I wanted to have dinner at one of Grand Rapids' big breweries (they have a ton of good ones down there.) Both of these were obviously easy to do (and well-received.)

I drove down to BP's Rockford in the early afternoon, and after catching up with him and his fam for a bit, we saddled up and headed downtown to rendezvous with Kimme at the record store for some pre-dinner shopping. 

I'll cut out the intro talk and just let the following pics and video do the talking - enjoy. . .

Kimmel was supposed to meet us at BP's, but - surprise, surprise - he was running late. This shouldn't come as a shocker to anyone, honestly - the dude was late to his own wedding. He had taken his family, who were in town with him visiting extended family at some local campground not too far away, and they wanted to take their two, young boys to some local aquarium to kill some time. This took longer than originally expected, but he was at least able to meet us at the record store at the agreed-upon time. Progress, folks.

Kimmel walks his son, Hank, back to the car (he had taken him around the side of some building to piss in an alleyway - seriously - because the kid couldn't hold it any longer.) After he got his son strapped back into a car seat - and BP and I had said hi to Kat and the boys - they took off and we headed into Vertigo Records, probably the nicest record store in Grand Rapids.

They have an insane amount of good music here. New stuff, rare stuff, stuff from genres you don't usually see well-represented elsewhere (punk, metal, alternative, indie, etc.) Their vintage prices aren't the greatest, as they don't have a lot of the old classic rock stuff cluttering the shelves like they do at, say, Radio Wasteland back home, but it's a refreshing change of pace.

Kimmel lives in downtown Chicago, so he pays out the ass for a two-bedroom apartment and, consequently, doesn't have a lot of shelf space for vinyl (he says he limits his collection to 25 albums or so), so he didn't buy anything. BP bought three or four, though - his collection is probably in the 150 album range.

I, personally, have about 860 albums in my collection at present, but have room for more if I purge here and there. These four I picked up for about $90, which was a steal considering three of the four ended up being limited editions on colored vinyl, and only one of them was used. The Chisel and The Dictators albums were both wants I've wanted for awhile, but Amazon's and Discog's prices were slightly more than what I ended up picking them up for in the store (and they were both colored, limited pressings, which was a bonus.) The Kinks album is a Holy Grail find for Yours Truly - it's my favorite album by them and has been out of print for years. The Bastards one is nostalgic, because I saw these guys (Lars if the guitarist from Rancid, this is his side-band) back when they first toured on this album, back in 2001. . . when I met the entire band afterwards and had a sticker autographed by all of them. That, and Lars personally sold me a Bastards Zippo lighter for a mere $14 because that was all I had on me at the time (though that was my gas money back to WMU at the time, but still.) All in all, one of the best single-day hauls of my entire life.

Heading out of the shop, having secured our treasures for the afternoon.

Seriously check this place out if you ever find yourself in downtown Grand Rapids.

Next up on our agenda was dinner (though it was still kinda early, only like 4pm) - Founder's Brewing. We found an awesome parking spot directly across a side street from the main entrance to the brewery - one of those deals where we pulled into someone's spot just as they were leaving, which is the EXACT same thing that happened to us at the record store (last time BP and I went to Vertigo Records, we had to walk two blocks to get there after parking.)

Man on a Mission.

This is one of the top three breweries in Michigan (the other two being Bell's and Short's.)

I haven't eaten at this place since way back in 2015 when my brother Chris and I came to do a brewery tour of Grand Rapids with my Uncle Larry. Have definitely been looking forward to stopping in here again.

Yup. I'm at the age where you have to pack a pair of readers in your pocket so you can read drink menus and the back of album sleeves. Shut up.

I frickin' love this place.

Waiting for food, enjoying some bad-ass beers.

Founder's hooked me up with a free beer since it was my birthday, which was awesome.

Some chick.

After a couple hours in Founder's, we headed back to the car (conveniently parked nearby, of course.)

These bikes you can rent throughout the city get left like this all the time. Super classy.

They're building some giant amphitheater downtown, right off the highway. No idea how they're going to handle parking for this sum'bitch, there's no available spot nearby for it.

Kimmel wanted to stop off at a pharmacy for some Tums (because he's that old), and while we were putzing around the inside of a local Walgreen's, I spotted these shelves. ''One of these things is not like the other. . . "

This song kept coming up randomly on BP's stereo for some reason, we heard it like three times. And no, he's not a fan of this song. We assumed the Universe was trying to tell us something. . .

Our next, and final, stop of the evening was the venue itself, so BP set off to try and find a parking spot within a couple blocks.

You can imagine how blown away were were, then, when we drove slowly past the venue - GLC Live at 20 Monroe - and spotted an EMPTY PARKING SPACE, right in front of the doors. Like, 100 feet or so. I took a video so you could see how close we were to the front doors, and how far back the line snaked back down the block(s.)

The aforementioned parking spot. We didn't bother getting out to just stand in line with all those dirty peasants, seeing how we could just sit in the comfort of his car and have an eye on things from there. We waited until the line went inside before finally getting out. Like civilized gentlemen.

We didn't have seats for this show, it was a small-ish venue that could fit 500 or so standing attendees (though there was far less inside than that, it was definitely sparse.) Breezing through security, we made our way in, hit the bathrooms to get that out of the way, grabbed some beers (Kimmel bought mine since it was my birthday and everything), and took up our spots on the floor.

The opening band was comically bad. Not incompetent, but the singer was far too dramatic for being a no-name band (and they weren't a punk band at all, which was a let down.)

We couldn't talk to each other due to the volume, so we'd text back and forth on occasion if we had something to say. BP's comment on the band is 100% spot-on if you've ever seen a movie like that before.

After a brief half-hour tear-down between the opener and the main event, Social Distortion took the stage at last. . .

Some of these pics are ours, but some - like this one here, I screenshot off Instagram (so, you know, I'm giving credit where credit's due and all that crap - please don't sue me.)

Mike Ness, the legend himself (at left.) Dude looks pretty good for being 60 or however old he is.

Punk is Dad.

(This was our vantage tonight - not too bad at all, we were somewhat close and only slightly off to the side. . . close to the bar.)

They saved a lot of their best-known songs for the encore, which was a weird choice, but I guess that guaranteed folks stayed throughout the entire show.

This was the 'official' set list, but they played three or four additional ones spread out throughout their set.

I think this guitarist is a founding member, too (the other guys looked younger, though.)

Reach for the Sky

We stayed into the encore, until they only had about one or two songs to go, then left for the car in order to beat the mad rush once the show wrapped up.

We BARELY made it out of downtown Grand Rapids, even with our great parking spot and leaving early. The sidewalks were packed with crowds, even running into the streets and stopping traffic. Grand Rapids' annual firework display was happening downtown, right over the river, so there were thousands of people milling about. BP had to aggressively inch his car out between crowds in order to turn onto a side street and dash onto US-131.

Not the best fireworks picture, but I was taking this from a moving vehicle and BP dodged in and out of traffic. Folks were actually stopped in the right lane of 131, and hundreds of people were crowded along the shoulder, watching the fireworks. There were cops everywhere trying to disburse the crowds, but not nearly enough to be effective. After a tense mile or two, we were able to resume normal highway speeds as we closed the last ten miles before BP's stomping ground of Rockford. I've never seen anything like that in my entire life.

We stopped at a liquor store to pick up a few beers, then headed down into BP's basement to have a couple drinks and watch a few episodes of The Simpsons. After a high-energy evening like we had just had, no one was feeling sleepy quite yet.

Eventually, BP and I drove Kimmel over to his hotel - where him and his family were staying - about a mile or two away from BP's. We nabbed one, final selfie before heading home for the night, another mid-40's Punk Rock Adventure successfully executed. See ya in the Pit, folks. . .

- Brian

For the Benefit of Mr. and Mrs. Maverick

Well, I was lucky enough to make it up to my little brother Jeff's wedding reception last weekend (sans wife and kids). Him and his wife, Annie, had gotten hitched back in December, at some Air Force chapel on his base, but had flown back into town in order to throw a reception and nab a ton of free stuff from their guests.

Smart move on their parts - speaking from experience.


Flying anymore these days is a complete disaster. You can't check anything anymore without being charged, you're given shit service, and security is a gauntlet. You know what I'm talkin' about. Fortunately, I lucked out this time around. Despite being stuck to a 400 lb. man wearing a Social Distortion shirt and iNerding on the iPad he probably copulates with, my flight up from Florida was fairly uneventful.


I spent most of the time plugged into an iPod. I'm also in the middle of reading The Histories of Ancient Rome: From the Earliest Times to 476 A.D. on my Kindle right now (which is awesome) - not necessarily a 'beach read,' but for those of you who are obsessed with all things Ancient Rome (*jerks thumbs at self*) its highly recommended - and got a solid chunk of it knocked out on the way up (and back).


Was totally not prepared for the icy, Hoth-chilling winter that awaited me in Michigan, though. Literally. I forgot to pack a winter coat, and stepped off the plane into the Midland/Saginaw International Airport wearing a thin hoodie and a stupid look on my face.

Hooray for me.

My rental was a Chevy Clowncar. Not sure the exact model name but who cares - it's not important. It was smaller than my car - which is saying something - and I drove it a total of 42 miles the entire time I was home (from the airport to my dad's, from my dad's back to the airport).

One of these days I'll spring for a fancier rental - I came close to getting an SUV, out of fear for the icy roads I wasn't accustomed to driving on - but for what I was getting it for this time around, the Clowncar worked well enough.


Everyone who was traveling in for Jeff and Annie's reception made it in to the house throughout the course of the evening.

Having skipped lunch, I reached the house famished. Fortunately, they had ordered Buccelli's, which is what God Himself would eat if He could eat pizza. Pairing this awesomeness with some microbrews brought in from Uncle Larry and Rowley, and it ended up being one, stupendous evening.


The next morning, Blake and Bradley had a wrestling match at the ol' alma mater (alma mater applies to high school too, right?), but Uncle Larry and I didn't get out the door early enough to make it (see: previous night). That ended up being a good thing, though - it turns out those two didn't end up wrestling for two hours after the rest of the family got there. Two hours sitting in the bleachers amidst a bunch of townies wasn't something I would've been pleased with... especially seeing how each of the boys' matches ended up lasting thirty seconds apiece. Not cool.

In the early afternoon, Larry, Rowley and myself decided it was time for a Field Trip. I, myself - as you all know - am a pipe-smoker, and the greatest pipe and tobacco store I've ever set foot in just so happens to be found in nearby Mt. Pleasant: The Smoker's Club.

Now, Rowley and Uncle Larry aren't pipe smokers (nobody's perfect), but they were interested in checking out cigars, so we all headed out to the 'Club, where I bought a new Danish Stanwell pipe and some stem cleaner. Afterwards, we had ourselves a cigar in the lounge... before the CMU Chapter of Douchebaggery (Collegiate Pipe Smokers of Central Michigan) showed up and starting with their club nonsense.

Don't ask me why young people have to form a club to mutually announce 'Look at me, I'm a pipe smoker!' I enjoy it, but I don't rub anyone's face in it - that's obnoxious.

Our last stop of the field trip was the Mt. Pleasant Brewery, where, after some pints of microbrew (I highly recommend the Train Wreck Ale), Rowley nabbed a six pack and we headed back to Clare. With only an hour or so before Jeff and Annie's reception kicked off, we quickly changed and set off for Midland and the Whiting Hall (whatever the hell that is).

The reception itself was simple, with catered or'derves (I don't know how the hell you spell that) and, alas, no booze*. We had to show up early for photographs, and, like an asshole, I was way underdressed. I had said in advance that I wasn't wearing a suit - I don't own one. So, in a sports coat, dress slacks, and my white Adidas, I was more or less showing up in what I always wear to work.

And I looked like an asshole:


That aside, Jeff and Annie's reception was a nice time - lots of folks I, personally, didn't know, but that's to be expected. Like I said before, they kept it small, and that was probably a stroke of genius on their part - by keeping their overhead costs at a minimum, they could just kick back and watch the wedding presents roll in. Here's a slide show of the event: Enjoy.

Totally wish we would've done that for our wedding.


...I could probably go into a lot more detail with all of this, but I feel that I've already typed up a shit-ton as it is. As such, I shall once again direct you to the following web page, where Dad has once again already done all the hard work for me and set up a photo gallery.

Check it out here.

- Brian

* for everyone except Yours Truly and Rowley.