When I started doing my radio show on WFMU around 1984 my pal Eddie Gorodetsky, comedy writer (Letterman, SNL, Fresh Prince, Will & Grace, et al), record collector (he compiled track listing on Dylan’s No Directions Home: The Soundtrack, The Bootleg Series Vol. 7, in my opinion the best volume of the entire series, and co-produced with Los Lobos’ Steve Berlin an excellent soul LP by Sterling Harrison– South Of The Snooty Fox on Hacktone) and all around guy in the know helped me out getting together the sound bites to splice between songs. Nowadays a common radio formula, but I think me and Eddie pretty much invented it. One of the things he turned me on to were these Queen B Bar-B-Q spots, which for some reason I thought were made by ZZ Top’s Billy Gibbons. It turns out they were done by a Texas DJ named “Harley David” Belew, but I think it was Gibbons who circulated the tapes. Anyway, there really is a Queen B Bar-B-Q down in Texas somewhere, although these radio spots aren’t real, they are funny as hell. I’ve had many requests to post them, so here they are, Kogar sent in the three latest Queen B adds which I’ve added:
These next ads are real, I taped them on a boom box in Chicago one drunken morning in the late 70’s from Big Bill Collins (“Big Bill In The Basement”) incredible blues show which ran on WVON-AM, I love the way he says “shrimps” (srimps), and the way he pronounces “biscuits”(bith-cuts).
Big Bill- H&A Restaurant
Caller ID has killed the art of the crank phone call. Everyone has their favorites from the Tube Bar tapes which were parodied on the Simpsons to Sammy Petrillo’s stuff which were issued on LP, but these, done by Afro-centric Lucius Tave really take the chitterlings. I don’t know where he operated out of, somewhere down south, obviously, they are a riot:
Cheap laughs at other people’s expense, one of my favorite things in the world. You’re welcome.
Non-Disclaimer: Parents, your kids are gonna learn to curse anyway, you might as well teach ’em young and teach ’em right. In fact, if they’re going to get anywhere in life from Hip Hop star to Wall Street player they’re going to have to learn to use profane language. They might as well use it in a creative way. I remember an old guy from Brooklyn I used to work with when I was in my late teens, working in the vault of an armored car company on the corner of Houston and West Street, who we used to call Clean Gene. Clean Gene was the most creatively profane man I have ever met. Gloriously so. I wished I’d taped or written down everything he ever said. Once he got mad and told the boss to- “Suck the snotty end of my fuck stick“. Man, was I impressed. Another good Clean Gene story: One morning he came into work and he looked awful, his face had taken on a slightly greenish tint. Word got around--Clean Gene has turned green! Finally, I asked, what’s wrong Gene? Why are you green? His response was– “I was eatin’ this bitches’ pussy last night, turns out she was a front wiper“. (He made a motion showing that she wiped her ass from the back to the front, dragging the toilet paper across her vagina). “She had dingleberries in her pubic hair, I think I got a mouthful“. I’m pretty sure that I too turned green. I assume Gene’s gone by now, but here’s to you Clean Gene, where ever you ended up. Moral of this story: Play Lucius Tave for your young ‘uns. He’s fun for all ages. And educational too.