In 1983, our band played at Chino DES Hall, it was a real fiasco.(Strangely enough, I’ve seen this place before in a dream, even though I’ve never been here before).  This gig was supposed to be advertised on the radio, but luckily it wasn’t; only a few of the band’s friends showed up to this large hall that could have easily held hundreds of people.  The house P.A. was a joke, so we used the band P.A. which was good for practicing in the garage, but not a big place like this.  We subsequently blew the horns out in the speakers, so the sound went bad.  The club owner was mad more people didn’t show up even though it was his own fault.  He offered us the promised $100 on the condition that we never play there again, or we could play for free and have the honor of “playing there again later for pay.”  I wanted to take the money and run but everyone else wanted a chance to play there again.  Of course, we never were invited to play there again.

Let's see, almost got in a fistfight with the owner of the Blue Goose in Garrison, MN because we wouldnt play an extra half hour. He tore up our check and said we'd never play there again. We got paid and still play there.

I crapped my pants at Mystic Lake Casino. Horrible stomach flu. That's probably more of that story than you need.

I was nearly arrested at the Park Inn in Duluth. I had just joined the band and was rooming with the drummer whom I did not know. Apparently he was a pedophile and did something inapropriate in the pool. When the police bust in the room they find this guys stash of tasers and pepper spray. They dont buy my story of just meeting the guy 4 days prior. Pretty scary. We ended up getting another drummer who was arrested in St. Louis for stealing condoms. The whole tour was cursed. Dont even ask what happend in Del Rio, Texas cause I dont like to talk about it. I rented a car in Houston and came home.

My Les Paul fell over at the Surf Ballroom in Iowa. Headstock broke almost in two. It was a wedding gift from my wife and I actually cried. I've always blamed Buddy Holly.

I worked with an artist who did mainly fly in dates with provided gear and it was almost uniformly disasterous. Lost luggage, 4 days in the same clothes.

A pickup tailgate was left open on the way to the Pink Diamond in Ogilvie, MN and most of my gear ended up on Hwy 65 in the middle of a snow storm. I lost my keyboard, a Line 6 longboard, and an Anvil case with tons of stuff in it. We drove back and couldnt find any of it. A musician I didnt know found it and eventually I got it all back. The longboard had been run over but it still worked!! I ended up doing a Christmas show with that guy and we're still friends today. I took it as a sign that my karma is in better shape than I'd thought.

Two years ago an oncoming car threw a two gallon container of antifreeze through the band trucks windshield. We were doing 60 mph. I had hundreds of tiny cuts and was drenched in antifreeze.

A really long time ago I was shot at in Tempe, AZ. I deserved it.

But this one still makes me laugh. I farted right before the first song and it was an eye burner. A face melting nuclear fart from deep in the depths of hell. I think the song was the ever popular Brown Eyed Girl oddly enough, and a gaggle of girls ran to the dance floor only to hit the brick wall of my gastro-intestinal blast. They literally stopped in their tracks and ran away.

With the exception of Tempe, all of this happened after I'd stopped doing drugs.