Out-Numbered

I am a big fan of the Captain America comic book series. I have been since I was a kid. I have a tattoo of the Captain America Shield on my left shoulder. The reason why I chose to permanently mark my precious, silky white skin with Captain America's Shield, was not as a tribute to Cap. No doubt, this alone might have been a worthy enough reason. It was more than that to me. It was a life long commitment to buying into Cap's philosophy . A philosophy built on a proud nation of heroes, past and present. A constant reminder to fight for what is right. To stick to my principles. To defend my beliefs, protect my family and help others, less fortunate than myself. If all of this sounds like a crock of shit to you... You'd be completely right. Actually, I just think that the Cap shield is completely dope and I thought it would look awesome. Which it does. There is a point to all of this though. Last weekend, I took my oldest daughter to pick up her new bike . Right across the st...

In 1982 I bought my first electric guitar. I was twelve years old. It was a used black Memphis. I bought it from Danny Tramantozzi . It was an absolute piece of shit. That didn't really matter though. I couldn't really play anything at that point anyway. I bought it with the hope that I would someday be able to Rock. On that day I made a promise to myself. I made the ultimate commitment. I pledged my skinny ass, freckled face allegiance to Heavy Metal. I would only worship the Metal Gods. Hard Rock was to be my lover and I was a one woman kind of guy. I had just started taking guitar lessons from the neighborhood guitar teacher. His name was George Marshall (like the amplifier). He had long brown hair and a beard. He wore a black leather motorcycle jacket and he always reeked of smoke. He definitely lived with his mom. I had no idea what to expect but I was terrified none the less. For about two years George came to my house every week and taught me the intricacies of Heavy Met...