It's a bird, it's a plane... what the hell is that?

Once again, it's the time of year for our favorite gathering. The gathering of a group of men who should often be ashamed of themselves. A group of men who share a common fantasy that promotes behavior which would shock and disgust the average person. A delusional and debauched bunch, who travel excitedly to Anaheim every year for the Holy Grail of their obsession.

Yes, it's time for the NAMM 2010 convention . No, not NAMBLA (look it up if you're confused). NAMM!!! 4 days of musician geekdom unparalleled in scale and scope.If there's a gadget or gizmo that has some, even tangential, function in music: in the studio, on stage, on the road, in the rehearsal space, in the servicing of a singer's toe-sucking fetish, whatever. If a musician might have a use for it, its distributor/inventor/enabler/'service-provider' will be hawking their wares at NAMM. It is at once awe-inspiring, mind-numbing, overwhelming and frankly a little sad.

Anyway, while fun will be had by all at the annual musical-masturbation-athon, it's been a challenge getting to the sunny state of California this year, like no year before. Thanks to Likki's third cousin from Nigeria, Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab, security for those of us 'foreigners' attempting to enter the good ol' U.S. of A. has become a nightmare. Even normal-looking passengers (which you'll likely agree, the Toyz are decidedly not!) are subject to unbelievably strict guidelines before setting foot on any winged craft headed Stateside. You are no longer allowed (as of this writing) to carry on ANY luggage. No backpacks, no garment bags, no purses, no bags of crack, no plastic explosives sewn into your magic Mormon underwear, no slightly-effeminate 'man-bags' (how about colostomy bags?), nothing!

Those of you familiar with the varied temperments of the Toyz boys are aware that one of them, who shall remain nameless (it rhymes with Re/Max), has a bit of an anger management issue (don't say that around him or he'll pummel you like he did to his third wife, or allegedly(?) did.). Anyways, said Toy (his name ends in two x's) figured "F**k it!! I'll show them!!".

Imagine the look on the face of the poor Muslim woman manning the security checkpoint when this band member (he shares a first name with one iconic, but dead, singer nicknamed "The Man in Black) strutted up for his pat-down wearing his Sunday best: that's right a maple-leaf emblazoned Speedo and a dingy, kind-of-white wife beater with a mustard stain over his right breast, I mean pec, and some other stain (we're still waiting on the DNA analysis) just above its tattered waistline. The shock was too much for the poor woman. Overwhelmed by the raw sexuality of Ema--, uh... the not-so-little ball of hate in front of her, she fainted, falling to the floor at John--, uh... Angina Man's feet.

A team of officials descended on the scene, the four- and six-string slinging Toy (luckily that doesn't narrow things down too much, although I guess it eliminates Likki... and wouldn't he be adorable in that outfit?). He was whisked off to a secret, highly-fortified area. He had every orifice probed (aggresively), and even had a second probing of one (allegedly at his request?). No explosives were found, no drugs, no contraband at all (I did hear something about a hamster carcass, but I think Richard Gere was in town that day, too, so we'll let that go). The potenital for disaster having been disproven, Emaxx (shit... it just slipped out. Sorry!) was released and was allowed to join the rest of us on the plane, and the journey began.

Strange, but the plane was absolutely jammed, except for the row Emaxx was sitting in. Actually, that's not exactly true. The shady looking guy who was beside Emaxx at take-off spent the entire flight in the washroom. But I hear he was legitimately ill, although I think I saw some kind of wire sticking out of the back of his Calgary Flames toque.

Have a good weekend all. Here's hoping we all survive the trip and can join you all again, next Tuesday at Morgan's, for another night of your favorite 80's metal tunes.

Later...

Eli Finkelstein (Cy's kid)