We were booked to play the Tazza Cafe at Earlham College in Richmond, Indiana on Friday September 22, 1995 and brought our pals AxPx to open. Earlham, as it turns out, is a rather strict Quaker college and I had signed something that said we promised not to curse, drink, use drugs, or have any other sort of fun while visiting their fair campus. The girl who booked the show told me it was just official school paperwork and not to worry about it. Since anyone even glancing at the Pizzle promo kit should know exactly what to expect when booking us, I did not think anything of it. We did, however, think it would probably be better not to bring alcohol with us so we drank on the way.Jason PizzlemanPizzle arrived (with little or no fanfare, I'd like to note) and loaded in, saying "hi" to AxPx and checking in with whomever was in charge. We'd been drinking cider all day and decided to hit the local bars for some gin and tonics. Here's where it starts to get fuzzy. I remember one place with the worst gin we've ever had where the locals scowled and made unkind comments under the assumption that we were college kids; and one that was way too respectable complete with ferns and brass railing. I've been told that we drank at three other places but that's hearsay as far as I'm concerned.
We stumbled back to the club which was virtually empty due to a cross-dressing party at some frat house. Those Earlhamites sure know how to have a good time. AxPx rocked and we got ready to do the same. For reasons that seem unclear now I was only wearing trousers and a spiked collar. I always perform onstage fully-clothed, and it wasn't hot (being September and all) so I have no explanation for that. Making it onstage without my boots seems especially strange.
We set up on the stage which was covered with a plethora of cables and cords, and our singer Tom grabbed the mic yelling, "Where are the fuckin' Quakers? I wanna see some fuckin' Quakers!" We then kicked into a song called "Fuck, Shit, Piss, Satan." I was doing my usual punk-rock-hop routine and found it very difficult to remain vertical due to the obstacle course of electrical octopi on the floor. Well, that and the lack of sobriety. Anyway, the mics were shut off by the second chorus of "Fuck, Shit, Piss, Satan" leaving Tom with no choice but to run into the audience screaming lyrics into people's faces. Moments into our second song (the one glorifying the use of LSD) some very official folks charged the stage waving their arms and making it clear that we were done for the night. Tom went into a rage while our guitarist Lumpy and our drummer Chris quickly started gathering our equipment. I did my part by holding up the wall in the hallway.
The security guy was trying in vain to get Tom to stop swearing and inanely accusing him of being drunk to which Tom replied, "Of course I'm fuckin' drunk!"
Security Guy turned to me and told me that my buddy was "this close" to going to jail.
"What the fuck do you want me to do about it?" I slurred.
"Watch yer mouth!" he snapped.
I shrugged wondering why he thought the mohawked, nearly-naked drunk was the voice of reason to which he should appeal.
Lumpy and Chris had our stuff nearly loaded and I was magically reclothed, tagging cars in the parking lot with our ever-popular "Pizzle Slept With Mom's Chopped Up Corpse" stickers. Meanwhile, Security Guy had told Tom that it had been his prerogative to shut us down and Tom was inches from his face repeating the word "prerogative" tauntingly.
Tom had finally exited from the building at which point Lumpy said, "Gee, Tom, you did everything to get arrested but drop yer pants."
Of course Tom proceeded back inside with his pants down prompting a stream of frantic "Sir! Pull up yer pants sir!"'s. We were then informed that the police had been called, so we left.
Having departed hastily, I hadn't had time to inquire about our guarantee, so I left a message on the promoter's machine the next day. The certified letter I received is included here as is my reply. AxPx captured the whole spectacle on video and it became a great pastime of theirs to drink beer and watch one of Pizzle's worst moments. The video has since mysteriously disappeared.
