Extreme/King’s X 08-20-08

We rode against the traffic grain fron Plano, Tx down to the House of Blues in Dallas, barely hitting the brakes the whole way there.  God bless each and every single on of those Southbound bastards for they impeded our progress not. 

Upon arriving at our destination we were unable to park as we were there a bit early and the barriers hadn’t been removed from the parking lot entrance.  “No worries”, I said, “Just pull around to the other side.  There’s another lot there.”  This could not have worked out any better as the moment we made that extra right hand turn I spotted the great Kip Winger (of Winger fame, for all you kids who think Nirvana invented rock) just standing around, watching the world go by.  “Park the fucking car quick, I gotta go meet that fuckin’ guy”, I yelled to a less-than-enthusiastic carload of people.  Turns out, I was the only Winger fanboy in the ride.  Fair enough.  We got ourselves squared away with the parking and doubletimed it around the corner, running into the Winger frontman himself.  I knew he’d been doing the Rock N’ Roll Fantasy Camp thing all day and because of that I didn’t wanna whip his ass too much.  I told him I was fan, didn’t wanna take up much of his time and wondered if I could shake his hand and get a quick photo with him.  Kip was really cool, assuming a rockgod pose before shouting “No!”, then grabbing me by the shoulder to snap the pic.  He then spotted my wife and asked who she was.  I told him and he pointed his finger at her and said, “I want my picture with her!”  My wife’s a bit of a looker…I have no clue why she married me.  Anyway she took the pic with him, I shook his hand and left him to it and we made our way to the front of the venue.

Now, I know they say ‘no cameras, no recording devices’ and that’s fine…just means I’ll be one of the few to get the pics and video footage.  I had one camera stashed in a side pocket of my wife’s bag and a lesser quality camera out of its case in the bag in plain site.  I figured if they ran through a metal detector, she’d beep, they check her bag, they see the crap camera, and I’d send her on through while I took the one camera back to the car.  Well, they did check her bag but they didn’t say anything about the camera so kudos to the security staff.  Nice to see some human decency from those guys.  From my experience, sometimes that’s asking a bit too much.

Once we got inside I made a straight shot for the front, grabbing a great spot on the rail.  After about 30 minutes, the Rock N’ Roll Fantasy Camp started.  For those not aware of this thing, it’s basically set up to where pro musicians spend the day with amateurs who’ve dropped serious cash to jam and perform live that day/night.  Various musicians from a few different genres are participating in this and it made for some interesting viewing.  I don’t want to say it was bad because that’s not what the RN’R Fantasy Camp thing is about in the first place.  I know for a lot of those folks they lived out a dream last night so I’m not gonna run any of them down but needless to say, the actual talent on that stage ranged from Pro to non-existent.  It’s all good.  I will say this, it was really cool to see the likes of Gilby Clarke (Guns N’ Roses), Kip Winger (Winger), Glenn Hughes (Deep Purple), Dave Ellefson (Megadeth), Mark Slaughter (Slaughter), Chris Slade (AC/DC) & Earl Slick (David Bowie) up there coaching these folks through the songs, picking up slack where it was needed and letting the reins go where they could.  It was cool to see them make it about the folks they’d spent the day helping.

After a quick changeover, King’s X hit the stage with “Groove Machine” from the Tape Head album and from there went right into a couple of older classics (”Dogman”, “We Were Born To Be Loved”) mixed in with several songs (”Pray”, “Move”, “Go Tell Somebody”) off their most current release XV.  When they broke into “Dogman”, the first track from the 1994 release of the same name, the place errupted and sang every word.  King’s X is a seriously tight band.  Flawless from stop to start.  Doug Pinnick laid down a huge low end with his bass and sang with soul like I haven’t seen in some time.  Jerry Gaskill is an intense drummer.  He’s not flashy, he just beats his drums into submission.  Finally, Ty Tabor on guitar was unreal.  The sounds he gets that thing to make are otherworldly and, save for the girl behind us yelling “Ty, you rock.” every 30 seconds for virtually the entire set, seeing his artistic playing was the best treat of their run.  They played “Over My Head” as an encore and had all of us eating out of their hands.  I consider myself very lucky to have gotten video of this song as it was a great performance.  I’d forgotten how much I really love this band.

After King’s X left the stage, they puller the curtain so Extreme could get set up.  They were scheduled to start at around 9:45pm but actually hit stage 15 minutes early (First time I’ve ever seen a bad go on EARLIER than advertised!) going right into a song off their new album, a groove-laden track called “Comfortably Dumb”.  With the crowd sufficiently hyped, the Boston boys ripped straight into 3 older classics “Decadence Dance”, “Rest In Peace”, and “Warheads” before coming back to another new song, “Star”, the first single off their latest album Saudades de Rock.  After playing a medley of tunes from their 1st self-titled release, Nuno sat down and played the instrumental “Midnight Express”.  From there Gary walked out and sat down, setting the stage for the performance of the bands biggest hit, “More Than Words”.  Now, I’ve heard that song a million times (seriously, a million, at least) but you know what, it still hit me.  And I think the reason why it hit me was because the song speaks to the most basic of human needs (love) and it does so in such a way that so unabashedly sappy that you simply get caught up in it and, whether you’re a man, woman or a dog, it sweeps you right off your feet and by the end of it, you’ve been humming along for 3 minutes without even realizing it.  The crowd sang along (me included, dammit!) and both Gary and Nuno seemed pleased with the reaction.  The last half of the show was spent trying to keep up with the band.  Gary jumped, ran, crawled and dived all over the stage while Nuno and Pat just tried to stay out of his way, all the while playing at a breakneck, technical pace.  After closing the show with another instrumental “Bumblebee” and another hit off the Pornograffitti album, “Get The Funk Out”, the Extreme boys left the stage, grabbed a breathe and came back out for an encore of “Am I Ever Gonna Change” off the III Sides To Every Story album and their ‘other’ hit, “Hole Hearted”.  Again, the crowd sang along and the band seemed to dig it, especially Gary because after they said their goodbyes and did the whole ‘band bow’ at the front of the stage, Gary whispered something to Nuno which Nuno then conveyed to the crowd saying, “Gary says he doesn’t wanna leave yet.  He wants to do one more song.”  While I know much of this sort of thing is planned in advance, this really felt like a spur of the moment type decision, made obvious to me by the sketchy version of “Mutha (Don’t Wanna Go To School Today)” that was played.  The guys obviously hadn’t been playing this one in rehersal and were all laughing and cutting up throught the song, giving each other the finger and cracking jokes.  It was the perfect way to close out the show and left everyone on their feet cheering for more.

Afterthoughts: Despite having viewed some shakey vocals from Gary Cherone in a few video clips from earlier shows, he was spot-on Wednesday night, belting out high notes from his shoes while simulteaneously bending himself into positions that would’ve embarrassed a more modest man.  I’m guessing Mr. Cherone is a big fan of the Yoga.  Pat Badger played a mean, funky bass and was far more technically sound than I think most would realize without seeing him live.  Badger was in great form last night while also mixing in some fine backing vocals.  The ‘new guy’, Kevin Figueiredo was great behind the kit, smiling ear to ear for much of the set but when all was said and done, the night belonged to Nuno Bettencourt.  What can you say about the guy that hasn’t been said a million times already?  He’s brilliant…but that’s almost too easy.  That doesn’t say enough.  I don’t know that words exist to fully describe what it’s like to watch Nuno play live.  He doesn’t command attention like some many of the ‘rockgod’ types yet you find yourself completely drawn to him.  I know as I was filming my camera eye would just naturally wander to wherever Nuno was standing.  Take nothing away from the rest of the guys in the band because each of them are very talented musicians, but Nuno is something special, something that simply does not come along very often.

My final thought concerns my wife.  At one point during the show, Gary Cherone was dancing around, happy as you please when he locked eyes w/ my Mrs..  He stopped, mid-kick, and held out the mic stand, gently tapping her on the top of her head almost as if he were knighting her.  Nuno, curious as to what Gary was doing, followed the mic stand to its target, saw my wife, and tapped the middle of his chest with his hand uttering the phrase, “Holy Shit”.  Glad to know that not only does Kip Winger find my wife attractive, but Gary and Nuno reached the exact same conclusion.  I think they all have good taste.  And I think I married wayyyyy over my head.  I’m a lucky fucker for sure.

Wal-Mart…Where The Mentally Retarded Go To Fuck.

Had to go get an oil change today.  Never an enjoyable affair as, in an effort to save 10 bucks, I always go to the local Wal-Mart Supercenter.  While it is quite super (at least that’s what they tell me) it is also an asswhip of epic proportion.  If it’s not the constant run-ins with the socially inept and awkward, it’s a 700 pound man in a motorized cart who manages to be in your way regardless the aisle to find yourself shopping, or some loudmouth redneck child screeching about not getting the toy they “need”, or a group of cocky, bastard teenagers shopping for school supplies.  I NEVER have a good Wal-Mart experience.  EVER.

Today, while I waited for my oil change, I was made privy to the fact that Lawrence is still in the Pen for punching out his girlfriend.  I was told that “Mama ain’t watchin’ them kids no moe cuz she crazy.”  No, I wasn’t getting to know a new friend.  Nope.  I simply had no escape from the conversation the MASSIVE black woman was having on her cell phone as I tried (quite in vain) to tune her out and read a fantasy football magazine.  I was near death when the good Lord saw fit to send her elsewhere (Sporting Goods).  I could still hear her but at the very least, it was faint enough I was able to ignore it all.

So, there I sat.  Reading my magazine.  Not looking at anyone.  Not speaking to anyone.  READING MY MAGAZINE.  “Hey man, you got 50 cents?” READING MY MAGAZINE.  “Buddy, can I borrow 50 cents?”  I look up and realize a giant rat in windshorts(!) is talking to me.  “Borrow?”, I ask.  “When would you be repaying the 50 cents?”  He has no reply.  I go back to my magazine.

Still waiting on that oil change.  Still reading my magazine.  Still wearing blinders.  In walks a 400 year old pale white man in dark sunglasses, massive white beard, baseball hat, very ashy legs.  He sits across from me…and promptly TAKES HIS SHIRT OFF AND BEGINS TO CLEAN HIS SUNGLASSES!  what the fuck?  WHAT THE FUCK?!?!  20 seconds in, an old lady comes in and tells him to put his shirt back on and to ’sit still’.  The rat-like man in the windshorts asks the old man for a dollar.  The man gives him the dollar.  The rat man buys a Coke.  Old man tells him to give him back the change.  Ratman does so, VERY RELUCTANTLY.

Mercifully, my car is done.  I pay and leave, doubletiming it out the door.  I curse Wal-Mart.  I curse the Heavens.  I curse myself and my need to save 10$. 

Damn me.    Damn me.

Big Dead Clown Shoes

My sister just sent me an article on the recent death of Larry Harmon, aka Bozo the Clown.  Now, while he was not the original Bozo, he was the biggest of the bunch, creating the classic look, even going so far as to purchase the rights to the character and licensing it out to TV stations all over the world. 

My sister and I used to sit an watch one of the shows he licensed the Bozo rights to, The Bozo Show on WGN out of Chicago, and dream of being on the Grand Prize Game.  If you never saw it, first of all…what the fuck is wrong with you?  Second of all, are you a commie bastard?  Anyway, the Grand Prize Game was a series of buckets lined up one in front of the other w/ the object of the game being to toss a ping pong ball into each bucket, winning prizes along the way.  The prizes were pretty decent, especially when you consider we’re talking about the early to mid 80’s here.  They’d start you off with maybe a model airplane or some sort of an action figure then progress into cooler shit like a years supply of Archway Cookies (every member of the audience would get a package of cookies as well) and, if you managed to get the ping pong ball in the last bucket, a Schwinn Bicycle and 50$ bill.  Always used to piss me off cuz I knew I could win that fuckin’ game but, alas I never got the chance.  When I asked my mom if we could go she told me she’d already called them and it was a 10 year wait for tickets.  That had to be a lie.  It had to be.  Having never played the Grand Prize Game is one of my great regrets in life.

So why not haphazardly smear on a little red lipstick, put on a big, red nose, toss a little confetti around the room, and pay proper tribute to the greatest clown of all time?  Why not?

Why not?

It’s not like you don’t have all that shit just lying around the house anyway.  I know how you are.  Fuckin’ freak. 

But I don’t judge.

Kinky freak.

Looks like he’s getting ready to unhinge his jaw and swallow the kid.

What A Girl Wants.

Sometimes it’s all you can do to keep from diluting a little napalm into a windex bottle and spraying small children in the face with it. 

Was offered a job today…not gonna take it but it was nice to be offered.  12$/hr to drive to Dallas…no thanks.  Didn’t do a damn thing ‘cept hide in the back room today and take care of my own section work.  Felt good to not entertain for the day.  Sometimes the jokes take more out of you than most folks realize.  Jesus, that store would be boring if I left.  No offense intended to the other folks at the gig…many of them are good goods.  But George Carlin just died and with him out of the way I’m having trouble thinking of anyone still alive who’s funnier than me.  Dane Cook?  Please.  Denis Leary?  He hasn’t been funny in 15 years.

I wish I could go get some indian food right now.  McKinney needs a 24 hour indian joint.  That would massage my sack to death right about now.

The Greatest Product Name EVER.

Ummmm…

The greatest product ever?

How can you not possibly want to go out and buy some of this shit…if for no other reason than to simply have a bottle of this mess on display in your home?

Dammit.

I’m in love. I wish my ass itched a lot.

My Wife Is Hotter Than Your Wife, Wishing The AID On Children.

Picked up my wife at the airport today…thrilled thrilled thrilled to have her home.  However, spending a little time out at the DFW Intl. Airport has me convinced of something: when the trash of the world feel like switching up their weekly Wal-Mart trip (you know, when they wanna go somewhere fancy) they go to the airport. I’m standing there, waiting for the mrs. to walk out her gate when I felt a light tug on my shorts.  I looked down and a kid (7-8 years old) was trying to take my Ipod out of my pocket!  I knocked his hand away and told him to piss off, which he did.  Not one fucking minute later, ANOTHER slightly older kid (maybe 10 or so) tried to do the same thing.  I grabbed this one by the arm as hard as I possibly could, asked where his parents were and walked him over to them and told them if the kid tried to steal from me again I’d beat him right in front of them.  The dad, less than thrilled with me (if looks could kill…I’ve have terminal AID-body), grabbed his kid and walked away.  Wise move, motherfucker. Finally, my girl showed and we headed off to the parking garage.  I went to back out of my spot and a motherfucking asshole pulled right in front of me and just fuckin’ stopped.  Stopped.  Stopped!  Nothing in front of him…nothing behind him…Stopped!  I sat there for a few seconds, brake lights engaged…nothing.  So I layed on the horn and began to scream expletives in his general direction.  As he drove away I noticed something…a fucking blue tooth.  Motherfucker!  Death to the bluetooth and all you bitchmade pussies who wear them.  Death.  Painful death.  AID-death. Anyway, I’m sure this wasn’t the perfect ‘welcome home’ for my wife…but she’s used to be being an agro bastard.  After flipping out I looked over and she was laughing at me.  And that’s why I married her.  Well, that and she has an amazing ass.  It’s nice to have things back to normal.

Tom Waits, God, And 1,000 People Walk Into A Bar…Stop Me If You’ve Heard This One Before

At times, the patience of Job was called upon to get me through, but after waiting and sweating and waiting and sweating and waiting and… Tom Waits hit the stage just past 8:30pm last night, making his first appearance on a Dallas stage in more than two decades, stomping, crooning and willing the sweltering crowd through a 2+ hour set (which included a 5 song encore) which featured nods to the old (”Anywhere I Lay My Head” from the classically sinister Rain Dogs album) mixed with several of his more recent releases (”Make it Rain” off the amazing Real Gone).Opening the show with “Lucinda”, Waits came out and took control of a somewhat restless crowd (it was hot in there, dammit!) stomping and yelping his way through boozy waltzes (”Singapore”), heartfelt ballads (”Lucky Day” and “There’s Never a Rose”), and spoken word beat-style performance pieces (”Chocolate Jesus”).  On several occasions, Waits told stories, interacting with the crowd and carrying on short conversations which various members of the audience which kept the mood very light despite the intensity and darkness of the music.  Make no mistake about it, Tom Waits is a total pro and while he doesn’t tour like he used to (the vocal chords simply don’t allow it), he runs a room like few I’ve ever seen. Despite the wait, despite the heat factor (you people at the Palladium should seriously consider taking a look at your lack of air conditioning), despite the fact that it became so cramped at one point I think I may well have impregnated the ass of the chick standing in front of me, the show was amazing and Tom Waits was on his game.  Here’s hoping the enthusiastic crowd response will prevent him from waiting another 20 years to get him back around this way.

Gay, Loving It, Loud Guitars, Fuck Me, Please

Found my way to a big show tonight…

The True Colors tour rolled into town this evening and did not disappoint.  Pre-show was spent with a couple thousand of my closest homosexual brothers and sisters (one of whom decided he’d continually fire a couple of bubble guns in the air while clad in nothing more than a rinestone studded dog collar.)  Priceless.

Once the show got underway (opened by the nights host, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy’s Carson Kressley), the place began to fill out a little even though the sun was still very much in play (and hotter than a bitch).  They opened with a girl names Lili Hadyn (and her extemely sreechy violin) and Wanda Sykes, who was actually pretty funny.  After Sykes, the main show got started with a bit of a wimper as Andy Bell (Erasure) came bounding onto the stage in a pair of short shorts and a tank top and basically did karaoke to 5 Erasure songs, including their two biggest hits, “Chains of Love” and “A Little Respect”, to a less than enthusiastic crowd.  It just seemed sad, really.  The guy can still hit all the notes, even those high-assed motherfuckers in “A Little Respect”, but the fuckin’ tanktop and shorts just came off as cheap and half-assed.  Nevermind the fact that he was up there dancing around by himself…no band…not a soul…no one…just him.  Jeez.

After Bell skipped(!) off stage after butchering a duet with Cyndi Lauper, the great Joan Jett & the Blackhearts jumped on, coming out onto the stage to the Ramones’ “Blitzkrieg Bop” before tearing straight into “Bad Reputation”.  I don’t know much about anything but I know this:  Joan Jett can still sing her ass off and when she does those cat growls that she’s famous for my fucking pants shoot off my legs, give me head, then kick me in the face.  I have never wanted to fuck a chick more than I wanted to fuck Joan Jett during her performance which, given her particular sexual orientation, would probably make her throw up in her mouth.  Fair enough.  Anyway, she and the Blackhearts powered through the hits (”Crimson and Clover”, “I Love Rock N’ Roll”, “I Hate Myself for Loving You”) and mixed in 3 songs from her new album which didn’t sound too bad, especially one called “ACDC”.  Joan Jett:  Sexiest rocker chick of all time…and could pretty much kick your fuckin’ ass, guaranteed.  Dammit, I love her.

After Joan Jett bailed, the greatness of the B-52’s hopped on and I was more than a little nervous about it.  I had seen some clips of recent performances and let’s just say I was less than thrilled at what I’d seen.  Any bit of trepidation I had going into the show however was completely washed away with their first song “Pump” which is also the first song off their new release, Funplex.  I was blown away at how good Kate Pierson and Cindy Wilson sounded and Fred Schneider controlled the stage like a total pro, jumping and dancing around and making the crowd feel like they were a big part of the festivities.  Since the day had so many acts, everyone was working with a shorter setlist so after “Pump” they followed with “Mesopotamia”, ”Ultraviolet”, “Roam”, “Juliet of the Spirits”, “Love in the Year 3000″ and, ”Love Shack”, before the closing the set with “Funplex” the title track off the new album, and the awesome “Rock Lobster”.  They were the main reason I went to the show and they put on the best show of the night. 

After a brief intermission, Cyndi Lauper hit the stage with “Change of Heart” which jumped right into a song from her new album, Bring Ya to the Brink.  I’m not gonna lie, I’ve never been a huge fan of Cyndi Lauper’s music, but I respect the shit out of her voice and her ability to connect with a crowd.  Straight and Gays alike were eating out of her hand and she jumped around the stage like a 20 year old.  She mixed in a few relatively forgettable new songs with some of her bigger hits like “She Bop” (my personal favorite Cyndi song) and “I Drove All Night” but recieved the biggest cheer of the night when she and the band cranked into “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”.  After leaving the stage she came back for an encore, singing one more new song before going into “Time after Time” and “Money Changes Everything”.  After leaving the stage a second time, she and the band returned, this time with the B-52’s, and sang a cover of Sly and the Family Stone’s “Everyday People” and one of Cyndi’s biggest hits, “True Colors”.  The show closed with everyone on stage and in the crowd celebrating Lauper’s birthday by singing “Happy Birthday” to her.  I’m still not a big fan of most of her music (especially the new, more dance-geared stuff) but she’s a hell of a performer and can still some crazy notes vocally.

American Flag Masturbation, Madonna And The Jiggly Tits

When I was a kid I always thought x-ray vision would be a sweet-assed super power to have.  The ability to see through hot chick’s clothing…yeahhhhhhhhhh.  Heard on the radio this morning that some bastard has made my dreams comes true…well, sort of.

http://www.usatoday.com/travel/news/2005-05-15-airport-xray-bottomstrip_x.htm

That’s right…

In an effort to make us safer from those dastardly terrorists, the good ole U.S. of A has decided to ease their pants down, grab an American flag (ya know, for clean-up), look through our clothes and shoot one all over our suprised, yet free faces.  Call it democratic bukake, if you will. 

Well, I think this is a great idea.  We need to do whatever it takes to feel safe and if that means I have to show my junk to a dude in a stupid airport security uniform, so be it.  I mean, it’s not like all this added security, haphazard lawmaking, and unnecessary probing into our lives has been forced upon us based on nothing more than an isolated incident…oh wait.  oops. 

9/11…please.  What a fuckin’ hoax.

The U.S. has done everything in their power to spin 9/11 into the worst tragedy to ever occur here on our shores.  I think the American Indian might disagree.  Fairly sure the Mexican might have a bitch in all this.  Hell, the Civil Fucking War, for Christ’s sake.  But we didn’t have CNN or Fox back in 18 fucking 60 so I guess it simply never happened.  So infuriating…

I swear, this country gets more and more like a bad sci-fi novel every damn day.  Full body scans, people listening in on your phone conversations, chip implants under your skin to monitor your movement…when does the anal probing start?

I guess my last thought on this whole body x-ray thing is, how long before the images end up on the internet?  They say they’re not recording any of the scans but c’mon…you mean to tell me the dickhead running that thing out at LAX in Los Angeles isn’t gonna find a way to sneak a couple of camera phone shots of Salma Hayek walking through a fuckin’ x-ray machine?  Fuck, I would.  Why do you think it was my most desired super power when I was a kid?  We didn’t have internet porn when I was young…I had to rely on Madonna videos for my material.  Remember that scene in the ‘Like a Prayer’ video when she’s dancing in front of the burning crosses and her breasts and kinda jiggling around…ohhhhhh yeahhhhhh.

I’ll finish up by saying this:  terrorism is a fucked up sort of thing.  I understand the concept of stopping it before it occurs but it seems like this is taking it too far.  9/11 was, I guess, a tragedy.  But was it an epic tragedy?  Meh.  Go live in a 3rd world country for a spell and you might look at it a little differently.  Go to Colombia and watch sewer water run down open streets in the middle of the day.  Go to Nicaragua and work 12 hours a day for 100$ a month.  To me, that’s tragic.  9/11 was a bad day and looks to me to be little more than the perfect opportunity to keep the rich, rich and the poor, monitored 24 hours a day to make sure they’re not trying to find a way to get an of the rich people’s money.

Call me an asshole but all this shit just gives me a headache.

Drinks All Around, Balcony Soapbox, Sleep? Bahhhhh.

For me, it’s just nice to have a voice that people actually listen to from time to time.  I don’t know everything…damn near know nothing in the grand scope of things but believe me when I tell you, I trying my heart out for each and every single one of you.  It’s new age, up-with-people b.s. but it fits like a glove…it’s simply easier and healthier to love.  Getting older crystalizes so many things in my mind, none moreso than this fact.  There’s so much negativity in this world.  So many reasons to just middle finger the whole thing and bury yourself under a mountain of poorly scripted sitcoms and buffalo hot wing doritos and wait for the middle section of Revelations to jump and snatch us all by the sack.  But I find I’m now far less inclined to worry about if I’m being percieved as ‘cool’ or not and much more interested in coming off as sincere.  Because when I twist off this mortal coil and head to wherever I’m headed, I just want to make sure I leave this world knowing that every person I’ve loved KNOWS I loved them. 

Lots of issues get straightened out at 4am…especially when you’re drinking with friends.  Tonight we tackled blowjobs, work scene and illegal sex trade.  Next time:  gas prices, heatwaves and Barbara Walters’ ridiculous stretch head.  I love you all.  But tonight, I love three people just a little bit harder and a little bit longer.

G’night, kids.