guest blog: SICKO

Me&my brothers stand guard at the gate, burning one down and ripping each other to shreds with wit and malicious love&sarcasm.
Errybody’s got their heyday, their hoo-rah, they youth and they time before the cataracts of youth fall away.
What the kids today don’t understand is we paved the fucking road they stand on the corner of, looking cool&posing as some gothfag or whatever-the-fuck. We did. And us?
Shit-we was just some pip-squeaked middle class/working class brats livin’ in the burbs and not quite understanding that w/o humor our sarcasm&derision could metastasize and leave us, bitter and alone like our parents. Somehow we ended up that way anyway but we still have a sense of humor, for Christ.

I present to you, Steven Dilodovico/SICKO.  He’ll be guest blogging here tomorrow.  I don’t know why or how come people call him that, Sicko.  I tried calling him for comment but the man is a writer and he doesn’t answer his phone.
Also, he remembers a time when a hairstyle could get you beat up by the highschool douchero, but, if you shaved off all your hair you might get jumped on the way home by a cadge of Ball Pein hammer-yielding Nazi skinheads.
It was us. We did it.
He was listening to the Serial Killers on WDNR and sporting a devilock when doing such was all the licence the jocks and the longhairs and the teachers and the parents needed to SINGLE. YOU. OUT.

How do I know Sicko did such things?
Because I did, too.
The only way out of the Township is in a pine-box or landing a job w/the Upper Darby Police Department ( the Nazis all got all the cush badges, riding around Ridley in red cars&out by the town line. )

hand over hand over hand
-FUGAZI, The Greatest

A man is only as good as the friends he keeps. Right?
Something like that.
In another sense, being from Delco (Delaware County) is my Karma. And it’s my brothers’ Karma, too. It’s where we come from, dig? Straight outta Upper Darby. Aho.  I shudder with a great and terrible shame just writing it.
But it’s not where we’re going.

Look for my brother Sicko in:
The Examiner
Smutlife Magazine
Chorus&Verse
Everything Sucks
He’s also a coproducer&writer for a film called
RIOT ON THE DANCE FLOOR, a documentary about the notorious City Gardens Club in Trenton, New Jersey; where we all saw some of punk rock’s last throes and whatever-the-fuck.  (Back in the idyllic 20th Century.  Back when you needed your parents to drive you to the show and you wished THEM luck when they dropped you off.  You know, pre-Nevermind and before all of this went down.  Christ with all they faux rock n roll jibba-jabba. )
Aho.  To paraphrase Henry Rollins, when Sicko does work you get destroyed.

Meanwhile, in the flagship branch of The Whole Foods Industrial Complex this morning, they were playing this little gem:
I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair-Sandi Thom-fuck outta here.
I can credit Sicko w/this most brilliant of colloquialisms: fuck outta here.  Get it?  No?  Then get.
What else?
Do us all a favor and die laughing. Life goes on and then it ends. What’s tantamount is what are you doing now, punkrocker? Aho. Always and for true. I was always more interested in post-punk anyway.

Skate or die, fag.
-What You Were Bound To Hear Growing Up In My Hometown If You Didn’t Care About Sports or Metal

It’s nice to know a brother’s holding it down out there, in some last outpost in the Wasteland of that hated town “grew up” in.
The only thing me&Sicko got out of our hometown was the fuck outta there.

Tommorow.

Namaste
Jim Trainer
Fox Den
Hippie Town, USA