Trevor’s Word of the Moment: Extinct



Yeah, yeah, you’re all ready to start gushing over some stupid furry animal with a brain the size of a pea but who fucking cares because it’s sooooo cuuuuuute, Trevor. Don’t you just want to pet it?

No, I fucking don’t. And keep acting this way and I won’t want to pet you, either.


Yeah, the word of the moment’s extinct. Now, go put an iron on those panties you just put in a bunch. It’s just a fucking word. Doesn’t mean the Word of the Moment’s going away. Far from it; you’re stuck with this stupid thing through the newest Demo Tapes launch and through both the novels. If you’d start buying what’s out there already. C’mon. Even the fucking recession’s extinct.

Extinct’s got nothing to do with cute fuzzy animals. It’s about those bands that ought to hang it up. The ones who should’ve hung it up awhile ago. You know, like Walter Cichewski and Jim Shields and Terry Fantillo. And all those losers in Rat Catcher, aka Mitchell’s favorite band.

He’s got this love thing going with Chi-Check, too. Chi-Check, whose knuckles are so fucking swollen with arthritis that when he puts his hand down on a newspaper with those knuckles touching, you can see fucking words between the other parts of his fingers, the places where the arthritis isn’t. I’ve been right there with the legend. That guy needs his fucking drugs just to breathe, I fucking swear it. Every single fucking joint’s got it; the guy fucking creaks when he moves. You sit in the first few rows of one of his shows, you’ll hear it. That’s not the music, boys and girls. That’s Walter.

One more thing to think about before old Trevor here says goodbye. And that’s the fact that no one’s forgotten the blue-footed booby and all those other fun, fuzzy things we can’t even see in zoos anymore. It just means we can’t see you. That you’re not clogging up the stage instead of letting some young, hungry kid get his turn. And yeah, yeah. I probably won’t get off when it’s my turn either. It’s addictive, being up there.

Time’s up for all of us sooner or later, youknowwhatI’msaying? Let the fucking stage go dark. Better yet, let me get up there. I’ll show your fans a thing or two.



  1. Robin

    September 2, 2009 2:16 am

    Sorry Trev, I’ll have to disagree – aging rockers paved the way for all of today’s shooting stars and still deserve their moment in the sun.

    Rock on Walter. As long as you can.
    .-= Robin´s last blog ..First day of school, sort of =-.

  2. Rene

    September 2, 2009 1:44 pm

    I have to agree with Trevor. When you are a grandpa, its time to hang it up. You are the opposite of what rock and roll is, even if you can still fit in your lycra pants.
    .-= Rene´s last blog ..September Goals =-.

  3. Raven

    September 5, 2009 10:48 am

    Trevor is really starting to grow on me. I love how he just tells it like it is, and fuck anyone who has a problem with it. He’s right. Once you need a cane to get on stage, it’s time to throw in the towel. (That goes for actors trying to star in action movies too *cough* Harrison Ford *cough*)
    .-= Raven´s last blog ..The Millstone of Humiliation and Some Good Music =-.

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