::: Devilfish Adventures :::

Live! onstage with QUARTETT, alias GERMANY, at Villa Fontana, Hemisfair, San Antonio, TX, Aug. 1976. To  the astonishment of the band and the audience, Devilfish takes the stage, and gives the manikin nose "head".

Mike "Fo'Strang" Taylor's parents happened to show up to that gig. His mom was outraged at Devilfish's impromptu. The band wasn't exactly thrilled about it either, but humor DOES have its place in entertainment. There was a cartoon face dog puppet stuck in the back of the Minimoog, so since she was "my" girlfriend, and it was "my" song, I bounced the rubber doggie off the side of her head as a "conductor's cue", and she Egyptian Snake danced her way off stage right, narrowly averting the hail of puppets and action figures that was sure to follow... "you have ammo, you use it"


Shit, look at Barry's hangin' mannequin rig, what you don't see is the footlocker full of rubber DICKS, Gumby dolls, Buster Bob wannabe puppets, mannequin hands, doll heads, etc. Think I'm lying? Look at Buster Bob. See all that subliminal DNA that's boiling up out of his skin? Yep, it was at every gig, in Barry's "stage" footlocker.

You could even go so far as to view it like this: I got that Quayed-out, belly dancin', nose suckin', go-go dancer's attention REAL QUICK, with a Buster Bob DNA sample, all while performing live, onstage during a QUARTETT song.

I'm fairly certain that was the last chance for Mike's mom to catch QTT live, or even "alive" at all.

Devilfish is now a reformed woman. She introduced me to her new husband, the Rev. Used To Ride A Motorcycle, at the funeral of a local Christian music producer, the husband of Treblefish (also reformed), who was Devilfish's "do-the-nasty" tag team partner back in the days of Barry's trunk. I looked around the room, sizing up the funeral, the Christians, the Death, and I said softly.... "THIS Is Awful."

Like on cue, the Rev. Used To Ride A Motorcycle assures me, "Hey, Brother, I guarantee you he's in a better place", like he's COMFORTING ME, to which I point out, "Yeah.... he's in a better place... but I'M NOT. I'm HERE. And so are YOU. And this... (pointing all around the room) IS AWFUL."

Did he shut up? No.

"Well, Brother, look at my tattoos." Shows me his arm. It has tattoos. Big deal. You oughta see his wife, Devilfish. I get the distinct impression that this Crusader For Christ has no idea how many times his wife, DEVILfish, has sucked my dick...

reader comment: So Devilfish kinda sucked, huh? hehe...

You know what was cool about Devilfish? Even though she would constantly do things that blew YOUR mind, pissed YOU off, or embarrassed YOU to YOUR limit, she was just being HER uninhibited knucklehead self, without fear or regret. She was oblivious to OUR hang-ups. But the split second you decided to put your foot down, unlike most obnoxious knuckleheads, she was always ready at the drop of a hat to do EXACTLY what you told her you wanted her to do. She was literally willing, at any moments notice, to be however much of a totally obedient slave to what YOU wanted. She'd give up her self and be the self YOU required, and she'd give you all SHE had, for whatever YOU wanted, as long as you wanted it. As a SLAVE, she could wear out dozens of MASTERS, obeying them into exhaustion. They couldn't keep up with her, so she had guys, men, women, girls, dykes, fags, straights, bikers, whores, artists, dope dealers, all walks of life. She's one of those people everyone knows, even people from opposite directions. She good friends with my two friends, Barry and Mike, before they ever met, and before I ever met her. I knew about her for years before I met her, and when I finally did meet her, it turned out she had been to my mom's house, when she was best friends with my girlfriend in high school! I used to jump out windows to escape from her when I'd smell her OUTSIDE walking up to the door. TONS and TONS of perfume and ointments and tiger balms and incense and Quaaludes and Crank and Hash and Coke and CASH? You need CASH? How much? She'd hand it to you. Need an amp? Tape recorder? ANYTHING. You want jewelry? How about a diamond earlobe stud? And don't worry, of course, its NO STRINGS ATTACHED.

Wanna fuck her girlfriend? She'd help you. You wanna fuck a lesbian? How many? Wanna go to a fancy restaurant? Wanna go to Germany? Wanna fuck that other groupie you just met? No prob, call her when you're thru, or tell her when to call you.

In short, she was just like Mugtoe. One of the best, most loyal and giving friends you'll ever have, and will never meet again, except I guarantee, if you did meet another'n like her, she not only already knows them, they lived in Mexico on an island for 3 years.... (that was a hypothetical example, but typical Devilfish networking.)

So, being that I tilt toward the loyal side, the statement "Devilfish kinda sucked" doesn't sit well with me, although I certainly
understand your point of reference, truthfully, its not entirely accurate. She was my "girlfriend" for a long long time before i
started liking her. To me, she was like a theatre of the absurd girlfriend. Real witchy and astral plane traveling, and she had a dream about everything, and her intuitions about the saucers, and the lesbians, and the Banditos, and MY BAND, etc were always coming together and fulfilling every prophesy, just like she had always thought it would.

In short, she was a true FREAK, especially in bed. A SuperSlut. I consider her one of my oldest and dearest friends.

One time she got up at Sam Kindrick's Sultry Slut Talent shows at Maggie's. She came out and sang the nastiest, most fearlessly SLUTTED out version of Hendrix's ode, REDHOUSE, she was giving the microphone head, running the gamut of sex postures and, dirty stripper dances. She thoroughly pissed off ALL the women, but the men cheered her WANTON FEARLESS SLUTNESS, and she WON the first prize!!!!!

Look at this! Yeah, she kinda sucked.... real well, in fact. (looks down at swelling cock waking up) Well, here it comes again. Not shabby at all if you ask me. Other women I knew 25 years ago can't make the ol' ppx-pocket-puppet start dustin' itself off like the old days... no matter what you think you think, in the final analysis, Kathie Lee Gifford is nowhere near Devilfish, especially when it comes to the dark and the occulticly insane.

[all the characters and events portrayed in this post are real. The names haven't been changed, tho', because that's what we really called them, except for the Rev. Used To Ride A Motorcycle, I had to give him a "good" name, like how I did for the song title. Those aren't name CHANGES, they're "Labels Of Fact", kinda like how REALITY is the webpage, but TRUTH is the html.]

::: Is Popeye-X Mentally Stable? :::

Mentally stable? STABLE? What could be more stable than "always right"? I'm like the National Forest, I preserve wildlife as it is found in nature, but in your head. There's nothing "insane" about it. Lotsa people think they can drive their Jeep over my flower bed, especially in the music industry. That's why I hand them a bucket containing the nuts and bolts and say, "your Jeep parts are over there", and I point to a sky high mountain of rusty old band debris, adding with a  chuckle, "if you can find 'em". Meanwhile, my little meticulously tended flower box has the original Texas weeds, growing unperturbed.

Lotsa singers think, oh, you'd be perfect in my band. My reaction is, YOUR band? What band? Without me, you haven't got one. I'm the completion plank to a ship that's ready to sail, for instance, Claude Morgan & The Blast. Regardless of whether you could personally ENDURE his act, I don't think anyone would deny it was a considerable bulk of music and performance routines. It gets no rougher. Add to that the fact that NONE of it was written down, except in Claude's scrawly, UNREADABLE scribble. Now, how many people have you met that could approach such a mountainous bulk of notes and patterns, suck it right out of the air, process it, and play it back on a stack of polyphonic synthesizers, in REAL TIME, with no rehearsal?

Hmmm? That is so far beyond "mentally stable", I'd go so far as to describe it as a "viable alternative to gravity".

When I finally get my own planet, all the inhabitant's legs will at least reach the same ground, which is more than I can say for Georgie W, our so-called "leader", not to mention The Rev. Butch Morgan, preacher for Jesus. Popeye-X has stayed the same thru it all.