Abandoning Echoes

Last blog before the computer is packed up.  Gee Doug Hell, could you be any more dramatic?  Yes.  Yes I could.  I’m giddy with excitement.  I haven’t tingled like this in a long time.  I just want to thank my friends in the Durham Region for respecting my need for solitude.  I love you guys.  No offense, but if you want me to come back to this area, you’re going to have to pay me.  I’m dead serious.  Love hard, people.

It seems my vow to sever ties with people have offended (wait for it) toxic people.  I’m not trying to offend anyone.  Too many people think it’s just them.  Well you’re not the only one.  I just want things to be crystal clear.  And I am not centering anyone out.  This is very important for you to understand.  I’m not throwing stones.  As a general message to everyone, just naturally assume you are not welcome in my presence unless I invite you.  This is not a threat.  There are no contingencies in place.  Should you choose to disrespect me and barge into my presence anyway, the only recompense you’ll receive from me is a debilitating lack of energy.  And we all know there is no energy like my energy. 🙂

There are few things in life more exhilarating than revelations in self-awareness, at least for me.  I don’t get a lot of credit for the demons I’ve conquered.  Not even from me.   I think it’s every human being’s responsibility to become a better person without accolades.  I’m not accepting awards for quitting smoking.  I’m not taking a chip for quitting drinking.  If your negative behaviour is an imposition on someone else’s happiness and you continue to be detrimental, then you should be shot and pissed on.  There is no hope for you.  You should never ever derive satisfaction from abusing people.

Let me explain.

I understand that some people are born defective and ill-equipped to deal with life through no fault of their own, other than being born.  But it all boils down to orientation.  A pedophile doesn’t choose to be attracted to children any more than a man chooses to be attracted to another man.  You’re born that way.  Some people were born inclined to crush the skulls of small animals.  It’s not their fault.

But you always have a choice, motherfucker.  You can succumb to your inclinations and become a monster, or you can spank that fucking monster daily, thus becoming a warrior in the process.  It’s ok that you want to fuck small boys and abuse small animals.  You can’t help that.  But you CANNOT fuck a small boy or abuse a small animal.  THAT you can help.  Do that and you’ve crossed the line.  Do that and it’s no one’s fault but your own.  You bitched the fuck out and succumbed to your dark desire, thus becoming a monster in the process.    The noblest thing you could do at that point is to blow your own head off.  The world doesn’t need you.

The world DOES NOT need abusive people.  Abuse is not a behaviour moderator.  I have scars up and down my back.  I have emotional scars.  I don’t blame them for the person I am today.  I learned a lot from them and still do, but it wasn’t abuse that made me who I am.  Abuse is a selfish personal fulfillment that you think is making you feel better about being alive.  It isn’t.  It just keeps you alienating from people who actually matter in the grand schemes.  It keeps you uninvited.  Everywhere.

I can only speak personally, but I am done tolerating abuse.  Time isn’t going to heal the debauchery of others anymore.  No one makes overtures to me without answering for their bullshit.  It’s done.  Man the fuck up you cowards.  I’m not going to pay for that shitty little feeling you get when you know you’re being a goof.  And I certainly won’t let you think that I believe that you think you’re being righteous, absolving you of all responsibility.  To think some of you have kids and others who believe in a false version of you.

Well one could argue about me and my relationship with my children.  I’m here for my children.  I’ve been there for my children my whole life.  They always knew and still know today how to find me.  I may not be as receptive to them as they would like because I won’t let their mothers use them as a handcuff, or they have chosen to believe the lies and play victim.  But I’m still here.  And the best fatherly advice I could give them is this….

You DON’T have to give bad people energy.  It doesn’t matter if you grew up with them.  It doesn’t matter if they’re your family.  You don’t owe anyone anything.  You owe it to yourself to be the best person you can be.  You go right ahead and choose to love who you love.

A year and a half ago my estranged son (who I was led to believe was someone else’s) found me on here.  I hadn’t seen him since he was 3.  He’s twenty now.  We have an excellent rapport.  I love him and am very proud of the way he turned out.  He could have believed the lies.  But he spined the fuck up and found me on his own accord.  He met the real me.  We spent a week together when he flew out here from the east coast.  He too writes songs.  He too is universally loved by everyone and keeps it real.

My twin daughters?  I was a fucking awesome father.  The wife?  No, I wasn’t a good husband at all.  I wasn’t present emotionally and never loved her.  But I was an amazing father.  Even after we split up I was omnipresent until she disappeared with them out of the fucking blue.  Recently I got a couple of emails from their mother.  They were scathing and predictable, and completely unfounded.  I responded poorly and received an email from Veronica.  She came out first.  That’s right Veronica.  You came out first and I was never allowed to tell you for some stupid fucking reason.  Veronica sarcastically thanked me “for talking shit about her mom” and her brother.  Again, I was way out of line.

That being said, good luck girls.  There was a time I really loved you.  You were my world.  Other than your mother, there is not one human being alive who knew me that would suggest otherwise.   Even the ones who didn’t like me wouldn’t dare.  But a lot of years have passed.  Every year that went by I cared a little less.  Time does that.  I wish you both nothing but the best, but you’re better off over there and I am better over here.  For the first time in my life I have a woman who I worship.  She will be getting the absolute best version of me now.  I was robbed of a relationship with you guys, and to be frank, I’m done paying for it.

Let’s talk about Queen Hell.  Much like myself, I have watched a person constantly try to become a better person.  Never in my life have I experienced such ferocious love, sometimes to the point of maddening (she’ll kill me for saying that), but if it’s maddening then I can’t think of a more sincere way of loving someone.  We’re well into our third year now.  The love only grows.  It doesn’t stagnate.  We’re constantly challenging each other to become better people.  I love her.  I love her hard, more ferociously than I’ve ever loved a human being.  She and she alone will get the absolute best version of me.

And there you have it.  This is the end of an era.  This is a death knell to toxicity and bullshit.  I’m abandoning all echoes of a bitter past.  This is good bye.

*mic drop*

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Best Foot Forward, You Stagnant Cunt

Can you smell it?  Tick tock.  I’m almost there.  Then there is no looking back.  6 days of the week drinking nothing but water.  6 days a week eating no bread or pasta.  A diet dominated by vegetables.  This April Fool is ready to launch.  And launch I will.

I can’t fucking wait.

Mental illness, irritability, social anxiety, and pain aside.  I’m ready to rock.  I’m going home.  There isn’t a single human being alive that has my willpower and drive.  Not one.  I won’t fail, and I’m not afraid to die.  No more reindeer games.  No more toxic people.  No fear.

I want to thank Prentice for being the best friend a person could ask for.  You’re up there too, Nate.  Hell, you’re all up there.  Let’s fucking do this.  Never mind, it’s fucking done.

Bite!  Bite!  Cryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

Sorry.  Faith No More is going on the playlist.

This double-cut Les Paul faded I got for my birthday has inspired a bunch of riffs.  I got them on tape.  They’re ready to soar, much like me.

Burton Cummings – Take One Away.

I love music.

See you all soon.

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We’re Human Beings But We Don’t Care

It was fate that brought us here.

Withering alone in this new dimension.  This sterile universe showed so much promise for sanctuary that I didn’t realize it was a prison.

Love never mattered until now.  It just didn’t matter.

*     *     *

Tick tock.  2 more days and a new era begins.  I’m thankful for what I have, and all the great things that are about to happen for me.

*     *     *

I’ll never forget the first time I saw California Vacation.  I was at a friend of mine’s house.  The film sparked a lot of outrage because in it a dog was forgotten about that was tied to the bumper.  Animal rights activists were furious.  In fact it wasn’t just the animal rights people.  EVERYONE was pissed.

No one seemed to have a problem with the dead woman strapped to the roof of the car though.

*     *     *

When I was 13 I was quite the rotten kid.  My stepfather who had beaten me religiously growing up had since been arrested and wasn’t allowed to beat me anymore.  But that didn’t stop the scare tactics.  He forced me to read a book called “Hooked”.  It was the real live story of a criminal named Ernie Hollands.  He was hoping to scare me straight.

I fucking loved it.  But instead of it scaring me, it inspired me to be a criminal.  I wrote Ernie and he actually responded.  We kept in touch.  He wasn’t a criminal anymore though.  He wussed out in Millhaven and became a born again Christian.  I still wrote him though.  At least until I began my own life of crime.  Then I became too busy to write him.  He’s dead now.

*     *     *

I’ll be rocking in a band again soon.  It will be me and a couple members of the best version of Radar Hate.  This pleases me greatly.  The acoustic is great and all but you just need to rock out every once in a while you know?


*     *     *

If any of you fools have an XBOX 1 and play Borderlands 2, I need the following for my Hellborn Psycho.  They must be Level 72.

– Legendary Torch Class Mod
– Flame Of The Firehawk
– Sapping Kitten (any element preferably slag)
– Miss Moxxi’s Heart Breaker
– Grog Nozzle
– Miss Moxxi’s Rubi (any element preferably slag)

I think there are more things I just can’t think of them right now.  Oh yeah, there is the Captain Blade Relic that gives you a return on health after a kill.  I can’t remember the name of it.

My gamer tag is GoogleDougHell.  Ha!  One of my shining moments.  I figure I would make that my tag and people would google me.  But instead they just call me Google.  Talk about infuriating.

*     *     *

Thanks for tuning in, friends.  Stay luminous, and love hard.

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Vow Or Sever

I’m pretty sure I’ve given up on changing the colour of the font to dumb down my literature.  Fact.

I’m 3 days away from April 1st.  While that may be a joke day for some, it’s going to mark a new era for me.

I vow to never own a dishwasher.  What a complicating pile of shit that is.  Not only do you need an engineering degree to operate one, but it just confuses dynamics everywhere.  It’s like, yo are these clean?  Look at this?  Does that look clean to you?  No?  Fuck!  Oh wait yes it is.  Someone just didn’t rinse properly before putting it in there.  Or oh fuck someone put dirty dishes in with the clean dishwasher.  Or uh oh the dishwasher has to be emptied.  Or it has to be filled.

Eliminate the fucking dishwasher from the equation.  What a stupid fucking invention.  The thing doesn’t even clean your dishes properly unless you rinse the fuck out of them first.  If you’re going to go through an epic productive hellride just to get your dishes clean you’re just better off doing them by hand.  Unless you’re a guitar player like me and don’t want to destroy your hands.  And if you’re anything like me you probably hate wearing gloves as much as I hate wearing a condom.  Of course not wearing a condom only ever got me STDs and unwanted children.  Also let’s face it, the dishwasher just ends up becoming a sanctuary for dirty dishes.  Out of sight out of mind right?

I vow to stop giving my energy to idiots.  The other day Queen Hell happened to notice me emailing someone I had managed to successfully eliminate from my life.  She said something about it.  I explained to her I was just placating him.  Some fucktards just want your attention and they’ll behave.  I find this to be the case much too often.  There is something about my energy that people eat like an Ethiopian vampire.  That ends.  What’s the point?  My time is mine.

I vow to stop looking like a bloated lesbian.  This is disgusting.  Each day that passes I get even more enlightened.  I have to take better care of myself.



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It All Goes Down In Hell At Midnight

In 2008 or 2009 I put out an album, When A Madman Loves A Woman.  It took virtually no time to make.  Admittedly a couple of tracks on it were just clutter from other past projects.

A Psychopath’s Lament was cut from We Were The First To Bleed With The Poets And The Psychopaths.  I don’t know why I didn’t think it was good enough at the time, but I love it now.  Apparently a lot of people do.

The Battle Of New Morning was a song I wrote while working at a futon store in Ottawa.  When the owner found out i was a musician he asked me to write a jingle.  Writing a jingle isn’t really my thing.  Just for fun, I wrote a faux Irish battle hymn.  If you listen carefully to the lyrics you’ll find they completely relate to sleep and futons.  The reference to “Seventh Heaven” was the name of our competing futon shop down the road, Seventh Heaven Futon.  THEY SOLD AN INFERIOR PRODUCT.

The biggest surprise on that album was Bloom.  It was the last song I did before I found my voice.  I sang it very flat.  I recorded it with a competent cokehead producer.  In fact, the recording of that song was one big party in Whitby.  I was all kinds of fucked up recording that one.  It’s the only song on that album I didn’t use a 9 dollar PC mic to record.  The guy who recorded it did it for free because he owed me money for drugs.

At some point, Matt Diamond from 94.9 The Rock showed up to record vocals and guitar for his then band, The Champion Heartache.  Matt heard Bloom and went apeshit.

Bloom ended up being a reluctant hit.  It was merely a Christmas gift for my girlfriend because I couldn’t afford a gift for her.  Well I could, I just thought that money would better be spent on me.  Bloom ended up in heavy rotation 94.9 The Rock.  Fuck me.  How in the hell did that happen?  I would go on to sell 2000 hard copies of When A Madman Loves A Woman.  Only problem was they thought they were buying an album full of Blooms.  They would be in for a shock…

Then my career exploded.  Well it exploded as much as I would allow it.  Truth be told, I shot myself in the foot.  I started purposely missing gigs.  The gigs I did show up for I would drink myself into oblivion and insult the shit out of people in attendance.  One particular gig in Burlington at the Red Rooster on the Mr. Plow tour, I embarrassed the fuck out of my parents who showed up with a bunch of friends.  Even Mr. Plow was taken aback by how I was misbehaving.  Mr. Plow wasn’t an easy guy to take aback.

At the time I felt like a big sellout.  I felt as though I had no right to be doing what I was doing.  I can’t explain why I felt so unentitled, but that was just the way it was.  I would get resentful, refusing to show up for interviews.  The interviews I did show up for I would be ridiculous and not answer anything seriously.  I would be obnoxious at performances.  People weren’t supposed to love what I was doing.  They were supposed to be pissed off.

Selling 2000 copies of a record may not seem like a lot but I did that with no label support.   2000 copies at 10 bucks is 20 grand.  Ask me what happened to the money?  I really couldn’t tell you.

Would I do it differently?  Yes.  I would.  I would have taken my career far more seriously.  Even two albums after that were a clusterfuck.  I’m not talking about the material.  I’m just talking about the circumstances.

I recorded Standing Outside My Dementia and didn’t even release the fucking thing.  I just uploaded all the songs on the net with little to no fanfare.

In 2010 I was signed by Get bent Records.  I fucked that up too.  I took their masters and ran them through distortion because I couldn’t stand the polished sound.  The album would be called Going Home To Die.  It seemed fitting.

Everything I’ve ever recorded I’ve gone out of my way to fuck up.  I have 5 fucking albums out.  My diehard fans know of three.

I’m done fucking around.  I’m done shitting on people who enjoy my work.  I love my songs.  I am my favourite singer of all time.  I get it right EVERY FUCKING TIME.  I love every single song that I’ve ever recorded.  I wrote what I wanted to hear.  I didn’t write to impress anyone other than myself.

Don’t hang up.  I’m not sitting here bragging.  I can assure you I realize 95% of the people out there may think I stink.  That’s fine.  I didn’t write and record what 95% of the people might like to hear.

Either way.  As soon as I move to the Woodbridge district in Detroit, I am going to start taking my career more seriously.  Then I’m going to make little hula dresses for flies.  Then I am going to kill them.

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Where Geriatrics Fear To Strut

I’m old.

I get ridiculous ideas from time to time.  OK let’s be honest.  I get ridiculous ideas regularly and often.

My life is very mood oriented.

Recently I got a hair brained scheme to have a bunch of t-shirts printed up reading, DOUG HELL SAYS GO FUCK YOURSELF.  It seemed like a great idea at the time.  Let’s be clear about this.  I was likely in a bad mood at the time.  So in the spirit of my seething anger I made the scholarly decision to spend 600 dollars on obnoxious shirts.

You know what’s even worse?  The things are selling like Viagra in a nursing home.  You’re thinking, oh well that’s great.  Well no it’s not.  I’m now making even more enemies.  Enemies I haven’t even met.  This is getting serious.

Twenty years ago I would have eaten this up.  I’m not so sure now.  I’m becoming all the things I thought I would never become.   I used to take great pride in an email like this:

Hi Doug Hell

I hear you told me to go fuck myself.  I’ll see you around.  But you won’t see me.


Great.  This is just he shit I need.  Like enough people don’t hate me already.  Now what the hell am I supposed to do?  I just bought a dump in Parkdale.  I spent 900 grand on a Victorian house of ill repute.  Soon people will know I am there.  It’s only a matter of time before it’s vandalized.  

I hide in terror.

*     *     *

What the fuck is up with ugly people?  God I hate ugly people.  I’m not ugly shaming either.  Almost a year ago I met the ugliest woman alive.  The problem?  She has no idea how fucking ugly she is.  The bigger problem is that good men who have spent too much of their lives with other ugly people will not realize how ugly this person is and mistake them for not being so ugly.  But fact of the fucking matter is they’re just a different kind of fucking ugly and they’re so used to ugly that anything that isn’t the same ugly doesn’t seem ugly.  Come on men!  Give your fucking heads a shake!  YOU CAN DO BETTER.

*     *     *

Dear ugly women.  Stop hating on beautiful women because you are ugly.  I’m SICK of ugly women hating on beautiful women.    There are two kinds of ugly women.  There is the kind who will fucking hate anyone beautiful because they’re jealous.  Then there is the kind who will befriend the beauty and champion her and act like they’re an authority on the hottie.  Fuck off you ugly bitches.  You’re not allowed near me or my queen ok?  I have no time for UGLY.

*     *     *

The Doug Hell show will resume when I make my move to Toronto.  I’m not feeling inspired too much these days.  I’ve been too busy getting drunk and harassing handicapped people.  I should be taping that shit but apparently it’s illegal.  Does this mean I’m not allowed to blog while intoxicated?

*     *     *

So I know I talk about this every year or so, and usually I don’t follow through, but I feel like I have enough recording goods to be a new Doug Hell album.  Oh right, I’ve talked about this and it’s still been 7 years since I put out an album.  What do you people want from me?

I’m going to do it as soon as I move.  I promise.  I PROMISE!

*     *     *

I’m currently working on reparations with people.  By working on them, I mean I am just letting go of old animosities and not poking the bear.  I don’t understand what makes me tick.  I don’t know why I get off on people not liking me.  I have literally no explanation for that one.

Regardless, if I’ve pissed you off in the past, I am sorry.  There are a few exceptions however.

– the ugliest bitch I ever met (I can’t use her real name and hurt the feelings of good people)
– Badge (biggest mouthpiece and coward breathing)
– my stepdad (I’m bigger than you now – don’t bring your board to a knife fight)
– my ex-wife (second ugliest bitch I’ve ever met)
– Rachel Fraser/Young (fat sociopath who stole my son from me)
– Michele with one L ( third ugliest bitch I ever met)

Hey!  HEY!  How is this supposed to be enlightening at all?!  Here I was trying to be positive.  I apologize.  But I’m not sorry enough to revise my list.  I know for a fact the aforementioned on my shit list read every word of this, except for my stepdad but that’s only because I’m not sure he can even read….

Don’t judge me.  Those are horrible fucking people who don’t do the world any good.  The worst on that list is likely Badge.  He tried to ruin his stepson’s life the same way my stepdad tried to ruin mine.

If YOU reading this right now have any kind of designs on making your child’s life unmanageable for any other reason than you’re a stagnant fucking piece of shit, then put your name on that list.  I’m coming for you too.

*     *     *

Alright friends and liars.  You take care.  Next time you’re feeling like shit, do something to make someone you love feel good.  It works ok?  I’m not just spouting.  Before you send your hateful email or leave your shitty comment, stop.  Ask yourself what’s really bothering you.  THEN SEND YOUR SHITTY EMAIL ANYWAY!  Just kidding.  Seriously.  Anyone can change.  Anyone can become a better person.  I find ways to get better every damn day.  It works.

I’ve never been more excited about my future than I am today.  I get it now.  I’m not going to let my history become my destiny.  I get it.  Making obnoxious shirts wasn’t one of my finer moments.  But I learned.  I won’t be stupid enough to do something like that again, unless I’m under the influence of substances.  But I don’t do them anymore.  I haven’t so much as smoked a cigarette since 2015.  I’ve noticed a monumental difference in my breathing and energy level.  Now I have to get in shape.  I look like a bloated lesbian.

I want better.  I’ll always want better and I’ll never ever be satisfied.  I’ll always want to be a better person.  I’ll never ever ever be good enough.  I love my friends.  When I say love you best understand I mean love.  I’ll go through walls for them.  I don’t have a single FRIEND (not vague acquaintance although they got it good too) who doubts my commitment to them.  But I can always be better.  And I’ll always work on being better.

There will never come a day when everyone who reads this blog will understand.  That is ok too.  I’ll be what you need in your life to get better.  I’ll be your friend.  I’ll be your inspiration.  I’ll be your role model.  I’ll also make you wish you were never fucking born.  I will frustrate you into psychosis.

I love you all.  That is the honest truth.  Regardless of your intentions out here, you all feed me.  From the fan to the big mouth to the one hiding in shadows.  I don’t need you to speak up to feel validated.  Because I know you’re there.  I know it hurts, but accept it.

I have a homework assignment for you all.  Now I am not taking credit for this, but I know for a fact that it works.  DO NOT COMPLAIN ABOUT ANYTHING FOR 24 HOURS.  I swear to a Christ that doesn’t exist, that you will see measurable changes in your life.

Peace out guys.  Love hard and see you soon.

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Foolishly Believing Angels Compromise

There are two people who hate each other.  Each person wants to save the world all on their own.  But the world can be saved if only they work together.  Don’t think that is going to happen.  People are fucking shitty.  If they hate each other, they won’t work together even if it’s for a greater good.

Thankfully I don’t hate anyone.  I’m not a hater.  I’m not saying I wasn’t always a hater, but I learned probably too late in my life, that hate doesn’t work.  Hate is an albatross.   Hate will not solve any problems positively.  


*     *     *

It’s a really unsettling fucking thing when you find out someone you believed to be true, to be an opportunistic fucking hag.  If there is one thing that vexes me, it’s an opportunistic fucking hag, and I have had firsthand experience with them my whole fucking life.  So I am an authority on opportunistic hags.

See I can ACCEPT this whole fucking time I was made out to be the miscreant.  And you know what?  I am.  I’ve sold drugs to feed myself.  I’ve beat the shit out of ex-boyfriends who hit my friend’s sisters.  I’ve done drugs for FUN.  I’ve bullied bullies.  I shoot my mouth off out of turn.  I say stupid shit that more often than not, that gets me into trouble and does more damage than good.  I am NOT a good person.

But you know what?  I’m fiercely loyal to the ones I love.  I may not be pretty.  I may be rough around the edges.  But at least I am real.  I’ve never kissed anyone’s ass in my life for monetary gain.  I’ve never not admitted when I was wrong.  I’ve never not apologized when an apology is in order.  I apologize and I apologize like a fucking man.  And I am REAL.

I’m also decent enough to be cordial with ANYONE who is cordial to me.  Whether I love you or dislike you, if you can be cordial to me I will take the mere 1.5 seconds it takes to be cordial back.  And whether I like you or not, I will always want you to be ok.

Just don’t fuck with people I love.  Opportunistic hags deserve to burn in a very special hell reserved for:

  •  people who chew loud
  • people who pass gas orally or anally in front of ANYONE
  • people who rely on any kind of substance to make their life more manageable
  • bullies
  • people who use terms like “hangry” and “sharted”
  • people who think out loud in front of us low latent inhibition disorder types
  • racists
  • people who don’t fucking signal when driving
  • pedophiles
  • mouth breathers

I’m sure you get the point.  If you don’t, then do.  I will help make you a better person.  You and you and you.

I know I can only look ahead.  And next time I need to be able to recognize someone who worries and only wants the best for someone they love.  I also need to recognize opportunistic hags posturing as a “friend”.

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It’s Not Easy Being Green

I’m only gonna say this once.  For the benefit of those who really love coming to this site.  I have noticed more often than not, that people take EVERYTHING I say as serious as a heart attack.  Again, I am only going to say this once.  From now on when I spout my usual venomous nonsense, I will do it in green text.  This will let you know I’m just being a buffoon and should not be taken seriously.  Last time, I am only going to say this once.

This does not mean I am going to go into all my old blogs and colour code them.  I don’t care enough.  There is not enough time in the day.

The Doug Hell show is going swimmingly.  I have an excellent cast.  We all had a meeting yesterday.  Everyone is on the same page creatively.  There is no competition.  Everyone understands I am the top dog.

That being said, from a creative standpoint, I am not letting anyone else be someone through me.  I’m tired of being everyone’s launching pad to being someone, or at least their derelict representation.  I’m at the point in my career where I need to put everything I have into me.

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I would like to thank Anterockstar and BE Communications for the excellent effort they made on bringing my show with Wednesday 13 (aka Marilyn Zombie) a memorable one.  Ultimately the result was a pile of shit.  No fault of theirs.  They did an excellent job capturing the magic visually.  Alas, the sound quality was utter shit, much like most live videos.  Despite what the video tells you, everything sounding great at the venue, but again, live video more often than not falls flat.  I am however, extremely impressed with the visual aesthetics.  Hire these people to shoot show live.  You won’t regret it.

It’s also no fault of the sound that I was extremely pitchy for my first two songs.  There were 200 people there and I found myself a little more nervous than usual.  I didn’t prepare a setlist.  All those songs were chosen off the cuff.  I also made a glaring mistake during Voices.  Anyway, here it is:

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The Doug Hell Show

What a pointless endeavour.  It’s the witching hour.  So it’s the beginning of Saturday?  Well not anymore.  So much has been happened now.  But as I write this, I imagine everyone merry out at the bar like it means something.  Hey look at me!  I drink alcohol!  I am significant!  It’s only a matter of time before I step outside for a cigarette.  That’s when the real spectacularity begins.  I will be seen smoking a cigarette.  This will validate me as a cool person.  When the bar closes I’ll stagger home alone, or if I’m lucky, with a big fat chick.  Hopefully she won’t mind my stinky home.  Hopefully she’ll bounce (no pun intended) before the light shines down on a month’s worth of dirty dishes and laundry…  I don’t mind that my unfixed cat is spraying everywhere.  Why should she, right?

Then after I bum her last cigarette and she leaves I’ll get on my phone because I can’t afford a computer.  I’ll go to Doug Hell’s blog so I can be angry.  Doug Hell makes me angry.  Just who does he think he is anyway.

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I’ve been listening to a lot of punk rock lately.  I’ve kinda gotten back on that train.  I’m more of a poppy punk guy though.  I adore MTX’s cover of Ramones’ Questino

Guy I’m sorry.  I’m out of gas.  I’m just so uninspired.  That and this italic bullshit magically started.  I didn’t try to write in Italic.  I’m so sad.  Please listen to this song.  It’s gorgeous.



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