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Columns > Andy Miller - Real True Confessions With Padre Pienbique

Published: 2003/03/26
by Andrew Miller

Real True Confessions 5: Oh, Bloody Hell(A Special St. Patrick’s Day Newsroom Report)

Well, we’re having fun now! Our fearless leader has just announced an
impending war against the continually inept, yet hopelessly resilient nation
of Iraq. Unless, of course, they’re own comically mustachioed fearless
leader takes a hike. Where to, I don’t know. I would have suggested France.
(They seem to have a fetish for him, like Jerry Lewis without the stupid
laugh.) But the Sunday paper informed me that the possibility of Senior
Saddam running for self-exile went South as he would be brought to the World
Court for war crimes.
Don’t get me wrong. I would like to think that the just and benevolent
United Nations would give the Iraqi leadership a fair hearing before they
twist Saddam’s testicles like a cheap balloon animal. However, President
Bush may want to keep that notion under wraps until Hussein and his goons
run off to Switzerland (or maybe France!) for an early retirement. But I’m
just a bass player, not a never-elected non-leader of the marginally free
world. What would I know?
Nothing about taste, that’s for sure. Instead of doing the obvious thing-
brooding solemnly and working myself into a self-righteous lather over the
impending slaughter in the Middle East- I laughed. My brother and I kicked
off the new useless war with a viewing of Stanley Kubrick’s "Dr.
Strangelove- Or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned To Love The Bomb". If you
haven’t seen it, I recommend it. Strangelove features Peter Sellers playing
multiple roles as a dorky British officer, a hapless American President, and
a hilarious Nazi doctor. George C. Scott does a perfect Yes-Man General, and
the guy heads the vigilante lynch mob in Blazing Saddles completes the
farce. (He’s the guy who rides the nuke out of the bomb bay like a
mechanical bull, cowboy hat in hand, yahooing all the way.)
I didn’t plan to watch this tonight, anymore than I meant to be so
indifferent to this week’s international crisis. It just happened this way,
I swear. My brother called me for a drink and just showed up with the movie
in his hands. Lord, help me if I laugh at this foreign policy spoof; it’s
just that our "modern" problems reflect Kubrick’s thirty-year-old satire.
Perhaps a little too closely.
Between the fictitious President we have in real life and the fictitious
one portrayed by Peter Sellers, our Commander-In-Chief is a hack at best.
Even though his father was the President of the United States of America and
used to run the Central Intelligence Agency, George Dubya couldn’t turn an
honest profit as the owner of the Texas Ranger baseball team. And he still
needed his brother to fix the count in Dade County. A credible job he did
too- who wouldn’t believe that Miami’s suburbs suddenly went Republican? The
little son-of-Bush wasn’t even elected, he stole the election from
Washington’s other prodigal son. Perhaps you remember him: That guy on
Saturday Night Live used to play him as a stiff, soul-less beltway-blessed
white man who claimed to have invented something or another and used to go
to hippie concerts until his bored wife tried to ban rock lyrics and, and,
and. Oh, bloody hell. Fuck it. He lost, or took a dive, something. Who
As for Collin Powell, he could be the leader of the free world. I really
think he could have brought something useful to the table. But he won’t, and
maybe it’s just as well. After all, he was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs
of Staff the last time regular American folks dressed up in fatigues and
visited Iraq, circa 1991. However, he deemed that Saddam wouldn’t present
any problems in the future and urged George Sr. to let Iraq keep the one
dick head they didn’t need in power. As for how he’s found a way to reverse
his position on Hussein yet remain a Bush apologist is an irony nothing
short of Strangelove.
On second thought, maybe there is nothing funny about Dr. Strangelove.
Perhaps it isn’t a satire on America’s very foreign policy. Instead, it
could be used as a virtual survival guide if you happen to find yourself in
a position to throw monkey wrenches into the tapioca solidarity of the
United Nations: Just do your worst and we’ll all die a quick death. Oh,
bloody hell.
Hey!!! I just got a thought. Imagine: A President who suspends civil rights,
leads a war against a useless tin-pot dictator, wins quickly, but finds
himself unable to rectify the world’s most diverse economy runs a campaign
based upon military victories no one wants to celebrate, AND LOSES TO A
This isn’t a pipe dream. It happened to Bush Sr. Perhaps history could
repeat itself.
Okay, enough of that. Neither the 1991 nor the 2003 remakes of Strangelove
were as funny as the original. So on to other business.
I was looking for ideas on for this month’s installment, but
Zink published and interview with the Big Wu, leaving me nothing to steal.
Serves me right, looking to plagiarize an interview with myself. Ironic, yet
not uncommon.
A couple of weeks ago I found myself a little bored while digesting an
18-pack of Old Style beer. Instead of doing something useful, laundry comes
to mind, I went to the Big Wu web page. On the side bar, I found a link that
proclaimed "Contact Us". Curiosity got the best of me, and before I knew it,
I had written in disguised as a drunk fan asking for a pair of Big Wu Family
Reunion tickets, back stage passes, a copy of my own latest album, and of
course, an autographed photo. I made sure to use the word "dude" often,
thanked whoever deals with these communications profusely, and used my
father’s address in Southern Minnesota to mail requested materials to. Then
I, oooops, passed out and forgot about it.
Three days later, my landlord, who runs the Big Wu mail house, came to my
room with a print out of an absurd email from some drunk guy. The clown
wanted everything except a limo ride to the show. At the time, I was in a
sporting mood, so I grabbed an autographed photo and wrote at the top: "I’m
relly glad you kare! See you & yer girl bakstage! Al the beste, padrez" I
gave it back to her and asked her to mail it out.
Later that day, as I was running to the liquor store, I grabbed the day’s
outgoing mail (photo included) and dropped it off at the post office. Two
days later my father called me and told me some mail showed up in his box,
addressed to some one else, but had my Minneapolis address on the return. I
asked to him to open it up, which he did, and replied "Son, stop playing
with your self."
Okeee Dokeeee- I just confirmed the last piece for the Big Wu Family Reunion
lineup. (Drum Roll Please)
Karl Denson’s Tiny Universe, Derek Trucks, Particle, All Mighty Senators,
Sub-Dudes (Fuckin-A! They’re back in action!) , Cabaret Diosa, Donna the
Buffalo, Olospo, and many more.
First Cousin (read: cheap) tickets are available at
Or check out for tixs to all the events worth going to.
This month’s recipe for those who get stoned and cook for themselves isn’t a
meal- it’s something to put on the food. Just as a Big Mac isn’t worth the
dog shit buns it’s laid on without the special sauce, almost anything can be
immediately upgraded with Rouille, a/k/a garlic-mayo.
Since the French have been dogged within the beltway menu selection, I
thought that I would provide a few props to those foreign policy
dodging-dinks by getting this out. (Note: if you are feeling over-patriotic,
don’t neglect the majesty of this condiment. Please refer to this sauce as
"Freedom Mayo". )
All you really need is a food processor, and the ingredients below. Please
add and mix them in order. I don’t know if fucking up the order of
operations will ruin anything, but why bother when this will turn out better
P.S.: Since roullie contains egg yolks, it can be kept safe in the fridge
for a week. Any longer and you’re betting on a long shot that you don’t want
to lose.
ROUILLE (Rou-wee)
HOT SAUCE (Yes, Tabasco will not only work, but will do you proud)
Insert ingredients into the food processor in order, mixing well as you do.
Please note that the final mixing should take a bit as it will thicken up
the longer you mix. After mixing, refrigerate for a couple of hours to let
the rouille get it’s internal mojo working.
Serve on anything that needs fixing.
This month’s Old Style Zealot isn’t drinking in the picture. That is because
he is preparing the greatest of all tour dinners- Tail Gate Sushi! That’s
right, Yasu, an authentic sushi chef who is moonlighting as a roving
reporter for a Japanese jam band magazine took time to share his craft
before we played the Temple Bar in Los Angeles last month. Kompai!

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