There’s a postscript to today’s story. Longtime readers know that I enjoy a heady cocktail of batshit lunacy, one ingredient of which is obsessive thoughts. I carried The Bus Boys incident around with me for fifteen years, those faces and voices looping through my mind like an acid trip from an episode of Dragnet. Finally, I decided to do something about it.
I sent an email to the band’s manager detailing the steps I’d taken to promote the band’s show from my record store’s bully pulpit. I laid out the specifics of that humiliating night, how bad it upset me, how long it haunted me. He apologized and promised to forward my letter to lead singer Brian O’Neal, whom he was sure would get in touch soon. That was ten years ago, and I’m still waiting.
All of which is my justification for defacing The Bus Boys’ 1982 album American Worker just to get a photo. I’m one of those nerdy collector types, so destroying shit gives me a belly ache. On the other hand, if The Bus Boys wanted a place in my stacks they wouldn’t have pilloried me in public then failed to send even a simple “sorry” when called on it, so I guess it’s a wash.
Anyway, here’s the deal: I’m giving away this marked up album — easily worth fifty cents American — along with a signed copy of today’s story to one unlucky reader. I’m going Celebrity Jeopardy with this contest, so anyone can play.
All you have to do is leave a comment below, any comment. You can type the letter “A” or write your name. Any comment will do. You can tell me your most humiliating concert story, or randomly hit keys — just leave a comment. I see Sean Connery is writing something…
I will pick one name at random, and there you go — brand new used vinyl and high quality, original magic marker artwork for your collection. Ready, set, go.