Gettin' Busy with Thin Lizzy

I love Saint Paul, but frankly I'm not a big fan of celebrating St. Pat's in St. Paul because between the Celtic Kitsch overload and the suburban tourists, it tends to turn into amateur hour pretty damn fast - O'Gara's being pretty much ground zero for this particularly noxious muppet show. So my two options are: stay home; or, go across the river. Fortunately, this year E-Funk and G-Funk of the Triple Rock Social Club provided an excellent option - a Thin Lizzy tribute night at their humble establishment. This may come a shock to you, but I loves me some hanging out with cool people, drinking good beer, getting my ass rocked by live bands, and I especially loves me some Thin Lizzy (yep, I've still got Jailbreak on cassette).

In fact, an early victim of my Thin Lizzyphilia was none other than Admiral Nelson, who endured repeat Jailbreak playings at a nearly North Korean brain-washing level upon several road trips to and from Da Yoop. So naturally, when I heard about last night's festivities, I called the Admiral to tell him that not only is there going to be a jailbreak, but in fact, the boys will be back in town.

We got there a little early and got take leisurely stroll down memb'ry lane with Billy Morissette. Naturally, the Brian Boru Pipe Band had to smash through the front door and show us all how to kick really, really old school.

Later, there was rock and roll. And I looked upon it and pronounced it good. To be honest, I didn't even catch the band names, which is a little embarrassing because I met the guys from band #2 a few months ago (sorry, Grumpy Steve). Doesn't matter really, the important thing is that the flame of our memory of Phil Lynott was kindled anew last night by the mighty power of rock and roll.

Special Bonus Video: Thin Lizzy performs "Jailbreak" to Crowd of Tranquilized Romanian Eighth-Graders


Seriously, what the hell is wrong with that audience? I've seen stunned trout with more life.

P.S. the muppets known as "Bono Vox" and "The Edge" ain't worthy of carrying Phil Lynott's sweaty jock. That's right, I said it. Now go find whatever it is you were looking for and quit making such pretentious crap music.

Remain calm, all is well.

So, obviously I've been away for a while. All I can tell ya is that the Spanish Main don't plunder itself. Since Baby Jesus' birthday is coming up and everything, let's get the action started with some seasonal awesome album covers (caveat: we prefer to celebrate Saturnalia at the Scooby Doo Mansion):


'Cuz anytime you need a laugh, just mention K-Fed. Seriously, the dude is pretty much humor Colt .45 - as in works every time. Just ask Billy Dee Williams.

Hey did you know that Rush is from Canada? They're totally Canadian you know - as any self-respecting Cannuck will tell you less than four minutes into any conversation.

You haven't lived until you've seen Adam Fielitz sing "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights" at Tin Cups.

If you're not like me and your hands aren't permanently ink-stained from reading every single issue of Maximum Rock n Roll cover to cover from 1988 to 1993, then maybe you don't know who G.G. Allin was. All I can say is, think of the sickest shit a performer could do onstage and then amplify it to the power of ten. If it was depraved, twisted, and wrong - our man G.G. was on it. This is a textbook example of why you may want to consider NOT naming your child "Jesus Christ." Just a thought.

BONUS B.S.:


Hands down, this is the best genuine dive bar in Saint Paul. Any place that has "Fuck Her Gently" on the karaoke list and will let seven of us get likkered-up for a cumulative $18 deserves some kind of recognition.


Attention foreigners: In America, all arguments are automatically won by the person wearing an awesome stars-n-stripes shirt and an even awesomer mullet. Them's the rules, bub.