Nationality is Dumb.

  When I was a kid most of the other kids in my neighborhood were Italian, Irish, and Jewish. I mean they weren't "really"...they were told they were because their grandparents or great grandparents were. This was a little different for the Jewish kids, because Jewish is really a religion and NOT a nationality, but when you would ask, "What nationality are you?"...they'd reply "Jewish."...They'd never reply, "Eastern European...or Russian...or Romanian." I wasn't any of these. My Mom's mom was born in Germany...so some kids called me a Nazi. 

   Sometimes Italian kids would call me a Nazi, too. When I responded by telling'em the Italians were nothing more than Hitler's bitches in World War 2, they looked confused and usually punched me in the gut...thus knocking the wind outta me and not allowing me to explain the international divisions, Allies and Axis, etc....(There were no Japanese kids living in my neighborhood in the 70's, just a couple of Chinese, a few Korean, and one Filipino. However, they were all blamed for the war in Vietnam, by the same kids that called me a Nazi and they got beat up regularly.)

  My Mom's dad was of Dutch decent with the bloodline going back pre-Revolutionary. No one cared.

My Great Great Grandfather: John Hone
New York City Late 1860's
He was from my Mom's side.
This is the oldest photo I have of any relative.

  My Dad's dad was born in Barbados. THIS confused everyone....especially me and my cousins. Our last name is Jemmott, pronounced Jem-Mott. However, people don't hear it that way...or spell it that way, for that matter. I still get mail for David Jermott and some people that only really know me through Facebook have referred to me as "Dave Gem-it" in person.

  I've heard Jermount, Gemmount, Jew-mont, Germ-ott. I still mess with phone solicitors everytime they mispronounce my name. Anyway, I'm of Bajun decent, via my grandfather on my Dad's side. (Although my Dad told me we were "Barbadian" and I accepted this, until I traveled to Barbados and a hotel clerk schooled me. There is no such thing as Barbadian, only Bajun.)...now back to the neighborhood.

  Nationality was a huge part of all the kids I grew up with. They were always bragging.."I'm Italian."..or "We're Irish."...the Jewish kids didn't really brag. They just casually reminded my classmates and me, that the Jews were responsible for all the days off from school in the beginning of every school year. "Mazel Tov" to them, I said and still say to this very day.

  However, being we were Americans...we were mutts...mixed blood, mixed decent, mixed nationalities....and this is when I really started having a problem with the other kids in my neighborhood and their claims of heritage. 

  Every so often somebody would claim to be Indian. That's right, Indian. Not from India, but pure Christopher Columbus ignorant: Indian. This happened a lot more than you'd think...but 11 year old boys thought that was cool...so many claimed they were "Red Skin". When I would ask them what tribe they belonged to, some would say, "Apache or Mohawk."...most, however, would say, "Fuck you, Nazi!!" ...and punch me in the gut, thus knocking the wind outta me and not allowing me to explain the diversity of indigenous people and the aspects of geography on any one specific group of people....and, of course, the relocating of said people, by the US Army of the mid to late 1800's.

  One kid that lived across the street from me, went on and on about being a Viking. That's right, a fucking Viking. I asked him what he meant and he said, his dad was Swedish and the "Swedish" people were Vikings, therefore he had Viking blood. I told him that was dumb and before I had the chance to explain, that not everybody that lived in the area, that eventually became Sweden, hopped on ships and headed out to sea to plunder and pillage...he punched me in the gut, thus knocking the wind outta me. (This same kid became upset in class one time, when our teacher went around the room asking each of us 5th grade kids to name a food of our heritage. He said, "Swiss cheese." When the teacher explained that's from Switzerland and not from Sweden...he was so flustered...he couldn't even come up with "meatballs"....dumbass.)

   Anyway, knowing your roots is cool, but I think nationality is dumb. I thought that in 5th grade and I still think that now.

Pet Shop Boys, HIV/AIDS, and Salt-N-Pepa's "Not So True" History According to Dave Jemmott

 I recently came across an article on "this" internet machine about Salt-N-Pepa performing at the various benefits concerts through the years. http://lifebeat.org/2012/01/05/lifebeat-heroes-salt-n-pepa/   I believe their version of their history is different from the truth.....MY TRUTH..well my truth as well as I remember the truth.

This 1991 tour was famous for Axl Rose showing up at one of their performances.

   

Let's start at the beginning. In 1991 The Pet Shop Boys went on tour, with a huge stage show. Their tour didn't generate a profit. Their record label, Parlophone said, "No more tours!" Fortunately, The Pet Shop Boys only owed one more record to them, so they released a best of titled, Discography. I didn't see them on that tour. Axl Rose did.

   One year later, The Pet Shop Boys started their own label Spaghetti Records. Life Beat (an organization based on music and creating awareness about HIV/AIDS) asked them to perform at a fund raiser in NYC. They said, "Yes."...I saw that show.

  So Pet Shop Boys, whom I thought I'd never get to see...got scheduled to play at this "Life Beat" benefit and I went. I went with Andre (Dre, aka DJ Andre from WDRE). We roll up to Roseland, on 52 St. in NYC, go in and wait.

  This is where my version and Salt-N-Pepa's differ.

  Their version: "We have supported Life Beat from day one. We co-headlined the 1st Life Beat benefit concert ever held in 1992."

  My version: Andre & I, as well as a thousand others ( mostly homosexual men)...waited for the show to start. We waited & waited. The show was suppose to start at 8pm. At 9pm I was pissed, only stage lights and pre-programmed house music was being pumped in.

  I was bored so I went by the Merch tables, which at Roseland are by the front doors. ....as I stood there, looking at t-shirts, and signing petitions....I hear a commotion, security people running around. I watched and I saw...Salt-N-Pepa come running into the building. through the FRONT doors. They were both wearing neon orange bomber jackets, one of 'em was holding an toddler (also wearing a neon orange bomber jacket). They were escorted away. I followed.

   Fifteen minutes later...I hear the intro to "Let's Talk About Sex"....the place goes nuts!!!!! Salt-N-Pepa take the stage. They rip through it. People are freaking out!!!! The stage lights are going bonkers...the crowd is going wild. Salt-N-Pepa are in control.....and then ......and then.....they wrapped it up and walked off  stage.

  That was it. ONE SONG!...immediately afterwards, I saw the same security hustle them right back out the front doors.

  Twenty minutes later: Pet Shop Boys (No stage show)

ERASURE STORY : (Pizza & Shoes)

 By October 1991, I had been at WDRE for about a year & a half. That's when we got the call that Erasure were coming to town to promote "Chorus", their 5th album. We held a contest for a handful of listeners to come up to the studio and ask Andy Bell & Vince Clarke questions. We also convinced the guys to host a record release party at Industry, a club where I bartended.

  So Andy & Vince show up at WDRE with the record company rep and a few other people. They seemed less than amused. They get brought to Malibu Sue's office, the office in which I worked, for holding. I introduce myself, offer them coffee. They politely turn me down and are very quiet. 

  I try and make them comfortable. I offer soda, water, ...soda water....but they look down, and shake their heads, "No." There is no conversation.

  After a few minutes, we are ready. We have about a dozen contest winners & their friends gathered by the sales area. We bring Erasure out and begin the questioning.

  "So how's the new record?", asked winner #1.

  Vince looks at Andy. Andy looks down and says, "It's good, thanks."

  "Are you guys gonna have a concert in New York?", winner #2, yelps.

  "Yes. Were going out on tour, soon.", replies Andy. Vince says nothing.

  This was the standard for the next five minutes. 

         First: Dumb question

         Second: Dull response

  I was right next to Andy. I could feel the tension, the awkwardness. They were just doing what they were doing, because it's part of the music business game. They were always cordial, but never enthralled. That's when I glanced down and noticed Andy was wearing blue sequin combat boots, or Doc Martens...whatever. He had these CRAZY electric blue boots!!!!

  So I lean in and whisper in his ear, "I love your boots."

Vince Clarke, Andy Bell, DJ Andre, and me

  He lights up!!!! He looks at his feet, looks at me and says, "You like these?"

  "Yeah, they're great."

  "Oh my God! They're fantastic! I got'em in red, I got'em pink, I got'em in purple. I got a whole bunch of them. Aren't they great?!"

 From that second on, we were pals. He went on about all these cool shoes, that just came out...and how unique, and how amazing..and how great they all were. He was bubbling over with excitement. It was great.
  He went on and on....we talked about clothes for about an hour. Vince said nothing.

  Andy asked if I was going to the "Meet & Greet" at some club they had to go to. I said, "Yes. I'll see you there."

 "Great!"

    

  Fast forward to a few hours later. I'm in Industry, the club I worked at, in Island Park. It's packed. I'm at the bar having a beer, it's passed 10pm. The people there are getting restless. Everyone is wondering where the hell Andy & Vince are. 

  More time passes, it's nearly 11pm, when two girls roll up next to me at the bar. They have on a ton of make up, they bump into me. I ignore it.

  They bump into me again. I look at them and turn away. Then one of them hip bumps me, making me spill my beer.

  I turn, and say sarcastically, "You girls ok?"...when I realize....these ain't no girls!!!! It's Andy & Vince!!! In full drag!!!!

(That's right! The guys from Erasure were hanging out in FULL DRAG!)

 Andy says, "Sssshhhh, don't blow our cover."

 I laugh. Everyone is pissed because Erasure are late, when in reality....they've been here the whole time.

 I get them drinks and we all start laughing.

 After awhile, people started realizing it's them. So security came over and hurried them in the back. 

 A little time went by, and then people were told to line up by the side room, to meet them. I walked over and followed the crowd in. They signed autographs, took pictures, they were all smiles. Later they were in the DJ booth, talking on mic and having a good ole time.
  When they were about done, they were escorted into a back area. I walk over and stuck my head in. Andy & Vince were sitting at a table eating pizza with curtains blocking most of the view. There was velvet ropes separating the 2 sides of the room. Andy looked out from behind the curtain and saw me.

 "Hey! Hey! You like pizza?", he waved.

 "Yes, I like pizza."

  He waved me over, I sat next to him. We all eat pizza together.

  Andy talked a mile a minute.Vince said nothing.

  A few minutes later, the record company rep came over and got them ready to leave. I said goodbye. I shook hands with both of them and out they went.

The end.

  

GETTING FIRED FROM THE JUKE JOINT

 The Juke Joint 213. Ahhhh....the Juke Joint. The Juke Joint was a great little bar in Bellmore.....Beautiful downtown Bellmore. It was owned by my friend Christine Frey's mom, Eileen...and her pal Debbie.

It was great. I think they opened in the summer of 1997...but I started working there in October of that year. It quickly became my home. The 2nd week I worked Brian Setzer showed up and performed. It was that type of place.
   The jukebox was stocked with 100 CDs. All of which were hand chosen by Christine Frey and me. The Damned, Tom Waits, Pop Will Eat Itself, The Cure, The Clash,  Etta James, The Stray Cats, Sex Pistols, Louie Prima, The Cramps...etc...etc...

   The lay out of the place was inviting. There was a black leather, sectional couch in the back, with 2 Lazee-Boy recliners and a pool table in the back.  People would show up, drink and settle in. The front had a beautifully stocked bar, leopard skin fabric on all the bar stools.
  Many bands played there. This bar had flavor. It had feel. It was a community. There were write ups in papers about this place. It was cool....but after 5 years, Eileen & Debbie decided to sell it....and 2 creeps bought it. They quickly killed it.
  Enter Bob & Rich. The new owners. Two guys that never owned a bar...or a business together. They bought it. They wanted "Cheers"...they didn't get it.
   Bob was a nice enough guy. Divorced, drove a mini-van. (At the time I lived at my friend Sue's house. Malibu Sue from WLIR/WDRE...anyway Bob dropped her name a lot ...whenever Bob referred to Sue, he called her, my landlord...never my friend. He'd say things like..."I heard your landlord on the radio today." He never said, "Hey, I heard Sue on the radio today." That was weird.) Bob started off OK...but he grew a goatee and shaved his head to "play" the part of "cool" bar owner, pretty fast. It didn't work.
  The other guy was a real piece of work. Rich was a whack-a-doo!!!! He had white hair combed back like a Saturday Night Fever extra. A porn mustache and BIG Chiclet teeth. He was a REAL CREEP.
One night, after we closed, young Will Teel was helping me clean up and he asked Rich for a bottle of Bud. Rich said, "Sorry. It's after 4am....but I'll give you a massage if you like?"  Will...didn't like.
   Immediately, they got rid of the Lazee-Boys & the couch. A few weeks went by. I continued to work there, hating it...but still making money. When all of a sudden the pool table was gone. The whole back area was empty. I asked why and Rich responded, "More room. Now we can fit more people."
 "More people? To do what? Stand & stare at each other?"
 "No, Dave. Pool tables bring in the "wrong" people. Ya know people that just hang around all night."
 He was clueless.
 They bought smaller glasses and raised the prices.
  They made the tattooed clientele feel uncomfortable (Lone Wolf Tattoo was next door), but embraced the actors from Rich's community theatre. These people never hung out there, but their 8x10's were on the wall. Once, one of them came in and asked for a Pina Colada. I cringed, but made it anyway. When I handed it to her, she slid it back and asked, "Where's the whipped cream? I was on Carnival Cruise, there's suppose to be whipped cream." Oh boy.
  We always clashed. They would ask me advice....and they would go and do the opposite. Each time pushing more people away.
  After 7 months, I was fired.
  I walked in one Wednesday night and proceeded to walk behind the bar. Bob extended his arm to block me from entering. He said we need to talk. Rich was standing feet away.
  "We have a witness of you giving someone a six pack of Heineken without charging him. That's stealing. You're fired."
  Flabbergasted, I said, "What? What are you talking about?"
  Rich steps up and ferociously says, "You stole!!!! You stole a six pack!!! You're fired!!!!"
  "Wait. I didn't steal anything. You're saying a gave some a six pack?", as I motioned a person handing a six pack of beer to someone.
  "Yes!!! You gave someone a six pack. A six pack of Heineken...and didn't charge them."
  "That doesn't make sense. Why would I give someone a six pack and not charge'em? What would I gain? Are you saying I gave someone '6' beers through the course of the night and never charged'em?...or I physically handed someone a six pack and said 'Take that, that's on me..????"
  "You, you...you gave'em a six pack and said it was FREE!!!!!!"
  "We don't have six packs.", I said, tilting my head, curiously. "We get our beer in cases, without six pack carriers. There's no six pack holders inside the cases. There's 24 spots. This NEVER happened."
  "IT DOESN'T MATTER!!!!", yelled Rich, his face bright red. "We have a witness!!!"
  "Well, alright then. If you wanted to fire me you coulda just did it." I turned and started walking out.
  I was just about to open the door and leave when Rich yelled, "...and DON'T phone in any phony police reports."
  I shook my head and walked out...never to walk through those doors again.
  Eight months later they were out of business.

It's now a dance studio. No more bar.
Here's a link from Frank Fusco's Bellmore: The Unscene Blog.
The last EGGPLANT QUEENS show there. This is after Bob & Rich bought it. We played there once, only once....but I warned them.

http://bellmoretheunscene.blogspot.com/2011/04/eggplant-queens-juke-joint-213-72702.html

RADIOHEAD STORY : #2

  June 1, 1995:  I ride into New York City with my good friend, Michael Walch (He's now a member of  my band, EGGPLANT QUEENS aka Sunnyside) and his pal, Squid, it was a Thursday. Our destination: Roseland...to see The Reverend Horton Heat open for White Zombie. They had tickets. I did not, I planned on scalping.
  We park and walk up to the venue. There's a mob scene. White Zombie were at their peak. I start hitting up scalpers and it appears the going rate for a ticket is $70...face value was probably $25. I move from scalper to scalper...both professionals and nitwit frat boys trying to score quick loot. After a half hour, Michael and Squid tell me they're heading in and wish me good luck.

  I waste another 20 minutes trying to sneak in and/or get a ticket for face. I explain to a number of scalpers that I'm really only here for The Reverend..... They have no idea what I'm talking about. My effort is futile....and that's when it occurred to me that Radiohead were playing at Tramps, downtown the very same night in support of The Bends. I fill with glee and hail a cab.
  Fifteen minute later I'm standing in front of the place. Tramps was great. It was a tiny club. Through the years I saw GWAR, The Reverend, Ultra Bidet, and a few other acts there....anyway. There I am...standing out front. It's sold out...but no mob scene. In fact, the street was pretty empty...except for one guy. One douche bag. I ask him if he has an extra ticket for the show. He says, "Yeah man.....$50."

  "Fifty?!", I reply...."It only cost $20. I'll give you twenty-five."
  "Supply & demand!", he snapped.
  "Supply & demand? Really? I'm the only guy asking for a ticket on the whole block?"
  "....and I'm the only guy selling."
  So, I tell him to fuck off and I move closer to the entrance.
  I stand there for a few minutes, watching people show up and go in...asking everyone if they have an extra ticket. No one has. This goes on for awhile and that lone scalper yells over, "Hard luck?.... 50 will get you in."...as he startles an elderly woman, walking by with a poodle ..."Hey? You NEED a ticket?"
 She pulls tight on said poodle's leash and says.."NO!"
 I look and laugh, "You're an idiot.".......with that a Lincoln pulls up. A "car service" Lincoln. Out steps 4 cool looking people, in what seems like a hurry.....and I yell, "Hey! You wouldn't happen to have an extra ticket?"
  One woman looks at me. Studies my t-shirt and asks, "You like Fatima Mansions?"

  (Ya see...I was wearing my favorite t-shirt of 1995...it read, in big red letters: "KEEP MUSIC EVIL". I got it from WDRE: the radio station I worked at year or two earlier. It was a promo by a band called Fatima Mansions. I just happened to love that shirt, I just happened to like that band, and I sported that tee often.)
 "Yeah! Those guys are great!"
 "They're mine.", she said. "I've been working them for awhile. They're on my label." (Radioactive, the same label Radiohead were on at the time.)
 "I worked at WDRE for 5 years.", I reply.
 "No shit. Come with us. I'll walk you in."
 I accept....and me and my new entourage, proceed to walk in....with me giving that one lone douche bag the old heave-ho......."Fuck off!!!", I screamed as I walked inside.
  Immediately upon entering Tramps, my new friends leave me. I like that. I squirm through the crowd as Radiohead take the stage. I get up front.

Here's the set list from that night.

They were great. Introducing "Creep", Thom Yorke said, "This next song. This is when the cool kids go to the bar, so go away, while we play 'Creep'...drink up, we'll be here when you return."
  That was probably the umpteenth time I had gone to a concert by myself....but I was learning, and more was yet to come. I ended up seeing Radiohead again, on the tail end of this tour at Roseland. A highlight was the cover of "Nobody Does It Better"...The Spy Who Loved Me Theme. That was incredible!!!!...and again, I went alone.

STEALING ROBERT PLANT'S SCOTCH (Evan Dando & his sister)

 So I had been working up at WDRE for awhile...and by the time 1993 rolled around the guys that owned the station were branching out into syndication. Our program director Tom Calderone was hosting a nationally syndicated show called "Modern Rock Live". Although we were based on Long Island, this show was taped and sent out from New York City. Tom had always said I could come up any time I wanted to meet whatever singer, band, rock star he was interviewing.....if I liked. I never went.
  I didn't think much about that show at all. That was until one day I received a call in my office at WDRE from some guy at Atlantic Records. He said Evan Dando from The Lemonheads was scheduled to be on "Modern Rock Live" that night and that he was bringing Robert Plant with him.
  HOLD ON, WAIT A MINUTE!!!!....so I let that process in my head for a second and said, "Dando is bringing Plant to the interview? Thee Robert Plant? As in Led Zeppelin?""
  "Yes."
  "Can we promote this?"
  "Yes."
   Fast forward 6 hours: Now I'm standing in a studio, up high on 52nd St. in Manhattan with my buddy Andre....[DJ Andre, Dre Dog from WDRE (He was a board op at the time)]. We see Robert & Evan along with the usual crew of record company reps...publicists..and tag-a-longs. We talk quick, get a picture taken, and I have Plant sign Led Zeppelin 4...but it's all fast, and done. No contact.

That's me on the left with jet black hair, then Robert Plant, next Andre...and the record company rep.

It was turning into an uneventful evening when all of a sudden I eavesdropped on Evan Dando telling Plant about some bar they were going to. So I grabbed Andre...headed straight to that bar, which was only a few blocks away. We waited outside and after a half an hour a Lincoln Town Car pulled up and the whole crew climbed out....Dando, Plant, and entourage. The record company rep sees us and says, "Holy shit! You guys hang out here? Come on." ....and gestured a wave for us to join'em.

   So we all walk inside, and by complete coincidence, 2 girls I knew from my neighborhood are sitting at a booth as we walk in....and they're like, "Oh my god!!! That's Robert Plant....with...with Dave Jemmott."

  So I give them a condescending nod and walk towards the back of the room with my rock star friends. I belly up right next to Robert Plant. Andre is next to me. Next to him is Evan Dando & his sister. Plant has nothing to do with me. Apparently, my tits weren't big enough. We drink.

  After a few minutes, Plant finishes his drink (Johnny Walker Red & soda) and asks the bartender, "Can I have another?"

  The bartender makes it, places it in front of Plant. I elbow Andre and say, "Watch this."

  I grab Plant's drink and chug it down, one gulp. I slam the glass down and slide it back in front of him.

  Plant nonchalantly, picks up the glass, looks into it, and says, "Can I have another?"

  The bartender is like, "Holy shit, he just downed that!"...but makes a new one and places it directly in front of Plant.

  With that , Andre & I start cracking up....and Evan Dando says, "What the fuck are you guys doing?"

  I look up and laugh, "I'm stealing Plant's drinks!!!"

  Dando shakes his head and says, "You guys are fucked up."...as he moves over and puts his arm around me...he orders some beers and we drank together for the next hour or so.

Me, Evan Dando, Andre, & Evan's "so-called" sister

   

The next day Evan came out to WDRE studios and was brought into Malibu Sue's office. There I was behind a desk typing. I looked up and said, "Hi."

  He looked at me and was totally confused. He slurred, "Hey!!! You're that guy from the bar last night."
  

RADIOHEAD STORY : #1

  I started as an intern at WDRE out on Long Island in April 1990., within two weeks Malibu Sue hooked me up with a paying gig doing data entry. From that I started producing her "Top 30 Count Down". A Casey Kasem-ish count down of the weeks top requested songs at WDRE as well as a cross section of record sales from local independent record shops across our listening area, as well as Square Circle, Record World, and Tower Records.
  I would do my research (pre-Google) via communication by telephone and fax to record company personnel. I would also thumb through endless magazines, fanzines..etc...
  Anyway, Sue (Malibu Sue) offered up her office for me to work in. Prior to that...I moved my manila folders from place to place around the radio station. So, right from the beginning, as I was researching facts about "our" next count down. ...various musicians would show up to be interviewed and need a place to hang out before going on air. They need a safe place away from gauging eyes of "sales reps", "interns", "goofy radio personalities",...etc....Sooooo they put these people in Malibu Sue's office. The office where I worked.
  I met many artists this way. They'd be shuffled off to Malibu Sue's office, pushed inside, and there was me. Little ole Dave Jemmott, writing, calling, faxing....and as soon as they were led in and the door was closed behind them, I'd stand up and introduce myself.. I'd offer them coffee and get back to "my" work. Leaving them alone.
  Sometimes conversations would come to me. Sometimes they wouldn't.

 Anyway, by 1993 I had had quite a few experiences meeting musicians, famous and not quite famous. When this band named "Radiohead" where out supporting the "Pablo Honey" LP & the single "Creep". They stopped by for an interview. They were all stuffed in my office. After their "on air" with Malibu Sue, they were going to SPRATS nightclub in Westbury for a "Meet & Greet" autograph signing session while Malibu Sue  and I did WDRE's "Party Outta Bounds" Weekend Kick Off!!!!

   The tour manager & some record company guy tell the band they have to now go "SPRATS" and "meet & greet"....they are not happy.
   The record company guy asks me if I know where "SPRATS" is?....I do....and not only do I know, but I'm suppose to work there from 4:00 - 6pm. Doing "Radio Emcee Shit".
  I tell him it's just up the block and I'd show them the way, but my car is the shop. So he says, "Why don't you hop in the limousine with us?"
  Twenty minutes later I'm in a limo with RADIOHEAD, their manager, and a record company rep, I'm sitting next to Thom Yorke. Thom's head is up against the window. We are driving on Merrick Ave. He's staring out at Eisenhower Park. I look at guitarist Jonny Greenwood and ask, "What the fuck are you guys doing going to SPRATS? The crowd sucks. You'll be lucky if they know who the fuck you are. All young yuppies, Mother Fuckers."
  I look forward. The record company guy is giving me the "cut it" symbol...slash across his throat....and Thom Yorke lefts his head off the car's window and says, "I FUCKING told you so." Collasping back into the closed window.
  We arrive at SPRATS. Pull in back. The band waits. They rest, we go inside. Set up a folding table. Lay out 8x10 photos and Sharpies. People start showing up, drinking, eating. We bring the band in. They sit at the folding table......and wait. After a few minutes some twenty-something guy dressed in a business suit approaches the table and asks, "So are you guys in a band or something?'
  Thom Yorke gets up and walks out.

The End.