A Dream Is A Wish Your Bloated Gasbag Of A Heart Makes.

My best pal Alfredo has granted me my most exalted wish via a stickynote stuck to my desk-away-from-desk in Crown Heights:

"Dear Goo (don't judge, grown men sometimes address each other in utterly batshit kittytalk...didn't you know?)

Please pick a list of 200 cds and 400 songs for the Big Lug Men's Bar jukebox. I'll pay you. Thx."

Dude. That's like the most awesomest task ever assigned to anyone ever. Big Lug, by the way, is a night Alfredo and I started on 14th street in the East Village two and a half years ago. As of October 24th, 2006 Big Lug The Bar will become reality and men who aren't bois, twinks or cracked-out circuit twats will finally have a place to go and chill. Alfredo will become an icon of NYC gay culture and I'll finally host the downtown ScuzzRock night I've always dreamt of.

Right on.

My night is called 'Sticky Fingers' and it happens every Monday at Big Lug Men's Bar, 85 Avenue A in the East Village. You'll come and you'll realize that although your mama don't dance, you daddy does in fact rock and roll - and thus you'll come back again and again and we'll all get trashed together and coagulate into one big happy scab (family).

Again, right on.

So back to my list. I want the jukebox to rock, not whine, so absolutely no John Mayer, that most odious dookie-butted hipster eyesore/jailbait-magnet/ClearChannel schlockmonger. No Pussycat Dolls (darnit, 'Stickwichu' is my most treasured guilty pleasure...I even wrote my own knock-off: 'Smokewichu' which has been recorded by Joey & His Bone-Tired Mothers and which I'll post on this site if I ever learn how to do that). I'd love to load it up with all the music I'll play at 'Sticky Fingers' but that would be redundant and not very democratic. As we know, not all fags sit around drinking boilermakers while bumping & grinding to T. Rex, Joan Jett and The Cramps (unfortunately That Demon TechnoThrob has got many of us in its sway). I have to include That Mystical Jewess: Madonna. Which Madonna masterwork will I include?

'American Life'? Just try and hum 4 bars of any one track, I dare you.

'Erotica'. Bingo. It's a dense, deeply funky four-star statement of purpose and who can't relate to 'Bye Bye Baby'? I ask you.

You're probably thinking to yourself Christ, it's a fucking jukebox not a WMD hunt just pick something/anything, who cares? (Something/anything...aha...Todd Rundgren!)

If you're thinking this a) you're a horse's ass and b) I must savor this moment for it will never come again.

Sex Pistols. Of course. Queer soccer hooligans singing along to 'EMI'? That's a no-brainer.
Thin Lizzy. All menfolk enjoy the musical stylings of Phil Lynott and his band: Gay, straight or vaguely confused.
Slick Rick. Rap is not my forte' but old-school hip-hop is reliable comfort food for many youngish New Yorkers much in the same way that a Thai food can be counted upon to evacuate my bowels post haste regardless of entree or location.
Souixsie & The Banshees. Interestingly enough, every single homosexual I have ever met harbors an unhealthy obsession for Souixsie Souix and her Banshees. This phenomenon merits a blog entry unto itself. I'll have to do a little field research.

The sun is laying low here in Clinton Hill so I'd better finish my list and submit it to Alfredo.

'Positively Ponyfied' is intended to be a music blog...if you've read this and you feel, well, disponyfied or you'd care to pony up with your own two cents I suggest you get you're own damn blog. After all, it's free.

'Sticky Fingers' @ Big Lug Men's Bar, 85 Avenue A beginning October 30th.