Welcome to the 10th Anniversary Mailbag Pt. II! As I like writing just as much as I like talking – truthfully, I probably like writing a little bit better if I’m being 100% honest – I wanted to pay heed to both artforms. Plus, I got an absolute shitload of questions, and I didn’t want to spend like an hour and a half just talking by myself and becoming increasingly tired and delirious turning into Gary Busey on the downswing of a coke binge. Although, now that I’m describing that, it sounds at least mildly entertaining.

Anyhoo! Here we are on the blog! We had fun on the audio episode, so let’s keep that train rolling here in written form. I’m sure these questions will be totally sober, meditative inquiries into the human condition and the creative process. My guests are nothing if not intensely contemplative and serious. Let’s get to the first question.

Justin Duran (Episode 329): If your podcast was an animal, what kind would it be and could it defend itself against my band’s animal form, a righteous trash panda king?! Or how many would it take to make a fair fight?

On the other hand, maybe this shit will be fucking weird as balls. I love this genre of question. It’s in the same vein as, “Would you rather fight one horse-sized duck, or 50 duck-sized horses?” This is a question that demands an immediate giant bong rip after asking it. In college one time, my friend Jamie and I spent a week off and on determining who would win in a fight: A T-Rex or a tank? I used to ask my public speaking students who would win in a fight: Mr. Clean or the Brawny Paper Towel Man. I am skilled in questions like this.

I hate the fact that the raccoon is taken in this scenario. Here’s the logo for The Frickashinas for reference. Raccoons are survivors. They’re resourceful. Scrappy. They’re dirtbags. I’ve got an abundance of those traits flowing all through me. My show refuses to die. I cannot kill it. To be in business for yourself is to have fortitude welded to your skeleton.

My answer is the raven. Ravens are said to be the smartest of all birds, yet they’re often seen around garbage dumps because a raven won’t turn down an easy meal. I have an advanced degree, yet you’ll often find me in scuzzy dive bars and punk venues hanging out with fellow dirtbags. In business, I do the shit no one else wants to do, and then get paid handsomely for it. Ravens are opportunistic, surprisingly vicious when need be, and above all, survivors. That’s as good a metaphor for this show as any. Give me 5 ravens against one righteous trash panda king and let’s see how the fight turns out.

I spent way too much time thinking about this question.

Andrew Novick (Episodes 319 and 153): What are you worst at, that you have actually tried to do / accomplish?

About time we talked about failure! I’m serious. I’ve brought up the point on this show a lot recently that baseball will always spiritually be my favorite sport because it’s a sport fundamentally built on failure. If you’re a truly SPECTACULAR hitter, you get a hit in roughly 1 out of every 3 at-bats. You’re the best hitter in the league, and you still fuck up 2 out of 3 tries. I find that weirdly beautiful and inspiring.

I am a godawful promoter. I suck at it. In fact, I not only suck at it, I actively loathe it. I hate the rhythms of it, I resent the fact that I have to do it at all, and sometimes I wish my talents were in pursuits that didn’t require a public facing presence at all. This show should be much bigger than it is, but it isn’t because I don’t know how to hustle it. Worse, I don’t really have it in me to try. This isn’t even exclusive to my relationship with the show. I co-founded Mile High 100, a miniature Shark Tank for nonprofits and that largely fell on its face because I couldn’t get people to come to the fucking things. I tried like fucking hell to make that thing work, couldn’t, and it fucked me up into an existential crisis. Awful feeling. If I were a better promoter, I feel like my life would be 42% easier. Let’s change the energy before I go into another existential crisis.

Jon Stine (Episode 306): Who is the best punk band in your opinion, and why?

There are two correct answers here, and I covered them at some length during my JOAT 50 Song Countdown. In terms of legacy bands, it’s The Clash. They’re the only band that matters for a reason. They set the template, and every punk band that has ever followed owes a debt to The Clash. The other answer is Rancid. From the piece I wrote in the JOAT 50: “Rancid is the best band of all-time. I don’t think this take is even 5% controversial. They write unimpeachably great punk music. They have an authentic DIY work ethic. They have an unparalleled pop sensibility. They look like axe murderers. They ARE rock ‘n roll.”

Slightly different question: But my favorite punk band of all time is either Strung Out or Rise Against, depending on my mood at the exact moment you ask me that question. Hey, here’s a punk guy from a band I love with a question!

Jose Prieto (Episode 272): Having a music podcast is probably an outlet for you to be creative and help and engage with the music business. If you didn’t have a podcast, what would you see yourself doing to achieve a similar goal/feeling?

First of all, I love that Jose thinks of this as a “music podcast.” That’s incredibly flattering because I often feel like a dorky poseur. Someone in the Denver scene did point out to me that too many people are trying to have bands, and that you need more of an ecosystem of writers, podcasters, and other creatives to make a scene strong. That made me feel good in a similar way to how Jose’s question does.

I’ve always said if I were born like 5 years earlier, I would’ve started a zine when I was in high school or college. Once I discovered going to shows, I could have easily written up those experiences, interviewed some folks and then tried to hand out my zines at shows, but failed because I don’t know how to promote properly. So to that end, were it not for my talents in podcasting, I’d probably still be some dorky ass blogger like I have been since 2000. Christ, I’m old. And since I am old, let’s dispense some old man advice.

Jon Stine, again: What’s your best advice for a new/expecting dad?

My biggest piece of advice runs contrary to the words of every Boomer woman you’ve ever met. Without fail, you’ll express some bit of frustration about how hard parenting (particularly early parenting) is, and they’ll say, “Oh, treasure every moment. It goes so fast. You’ll miss this when it’s gone.”

Lady, I miss NOTHING about when Grace had night terrors every night for weeks on end at a year and a half old. I miss NOTHING about trying to get to the bottom of why Sloane was always so constipated. I don’t miss a single goddamn thing about siphoning giant ribbons of snot out of their faces when they’re sick while they scream bloody murder.

My advice to new parents is this: Enjoy what you enjoy about it, savor it, and take it with you always. I have my own treasure trove of baby memories, and I cherish them. But accept and expect that some of this shit sucks. You don’t have to love all of it. Some of it is hard and deeply unpleasant, but it’s pretty much always temporary. It’s okay not to love every single second of it. Parenting is the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. It’s also something that has brought me intense frustration, pain, and sadness. We generally don’t talk about that, but we should if only to feel less alone.

Gogo Germaine (Episode 340): What is your favorite crazy teenager story?

First of all, if you want legit crazy teenager stories, please read Gogo’s book Glory Guitars: Memoir of a 90s Teenage Punk Rock Grrrl. In comparison to the tales in that book, 99% of my stories are going to look like Playskool’s My First Rebellion. My shit is all pretty tame. But I’ll go with this one because it’s embarrassing as hell for me personally even if it’s not that wild.

Our central hub was our friend Adam’s apartment. One summer night, I showed up and my friends were already there and well on the way to being totally obliterated flanked by some chicks I didn’t know, but who were quite hot. In the spirit of catching up, I slugged down two gigantic and very stiff screwdrivers, the second of which I punctuated with a satisfied proclamation of “Cash!” Like 5 seconds go by and my friend Carson, who was very stoned and playing video games, tagged on and went “…Money Millionaires!”

After a couple of customary beers, we then proceeded to play Beer Baseball, which is the stupidest drinking game anyone ever dared to invent. Basically you chug a beer while spinning in a circle, and each full rotation counts as a “run.” I’m not sure how you win because I chugged an entire beer, but one of the girls I was playing against got way more rotations and then showed me how she was taking tiny little baby sips, which seems like better strategy. You’ll not be surprised that following this, in addition to me inadvertently taking two giant hits off a joint rolled in a dollar bill, I threw up off the balcony and onto the poor fellow below’s balcony. Hey! Quit dumpin’ beer on mah porch! Oh, sorry sir. BLUUUUURRRRGGGHH!!! I found out Adam had to go down there in the morning and hose the vomit off this poor dude’s porch. Sorry, Adam. Sorry, unsuspecting downstairs neighbor.

Shortly thereafter, I sat on the couch way too high, extremely drunk, and just blurted out to these good-looking young women I just met, “I have to dump.” I found out later the girls were incredulous at my candor which made my friend Carson nearly asphyxiate to death from laughing so hard. I got up, went into the bathroom where Adam was taking a shower for some reason and proceeded to drop anchor. Jon, can you please get the fuck out of here? Oh, it’s okay man. I don’t care that you’re naked. It’s not that. You’re gonna steam cook the shit smell!

I ignored him and did my business anyway. I then found a piece of floor, passed out for however many hours, got up, and went to work all day in the hot sun for the City of Golden Parks Department. I don’t remember even feeling shitty the next day. I was 18 years old, and I was fucking invincible. We all were. And that apartment ruled. Big ol’ pieces of my heart live there. It’s where we were young shitasses (in my case literally, apparently). Thanks for the opportunity to go down memory lane, Gogo!

Jeffrey McHale (Episode 233): In the spirit of NOMI and our last conversation, what is your favorite “so bad it’s good” movie or in your mind a “secret masterpiece.”

I just need to plug one more time the incredible piece of work that is Jeffrey McHale’s documentary You Don’t Nomi, one of my favorite movie experiences from any of my shows from Denver Film Festival.His ability to distill so many perspectives and alternate readings of Showgirls into a coherent and extremely entertaining documentary continues to bring me so much joy.

My favorite “so bad it’s good” movie is clearly The Karate Kid III since I recorded a DVD commentary track of it with my friend Brad, and also wrote about it in a blog post, both in 2021. I simply cannot get over just how fucking WEIRD the choices in this movie are. They took everything people liked about the first two movies, and eschewed them in favor of much, much worse ones. I respect that energy even if this movie is generally (and correctly) hated by the masses. I don’t care, I love its shittiness because it’s delivered uncynically. They tried to make a good movie and didn’t! That’s ok! The choices were audacious, but all wrong. It’s still a movie I’ve seen at least four dozen times and a movie I would drop everything to watch right now. I might still!

As for a “secret masterpiece,” I gotta give it up for 1989 comedy The ‘Burbs directed by noted madman Joe Dante and starring Tom Hanks. It’s Corey Feldman’s best performance. Literally every single one of Bruce Dern’s line readings makes me laugh out loud. And this movie is both broad, slapstick comedy, and a pitch black satire of upper middle class white suburbanites. Put it in the Smithsonian.

Kyle Bell (Episode 267): What’s your favorite movie soundtrack of all-time and why?

This question has a lot of contenders, and they’re all from the ‘90s. I’d put 10 Things I Hate About You, Pulp Fiction, The Crow, and Above the Rim in my all-time Top 5. But the answer to this question is Office Space. Mike Judge had to FIGHT the studio to keep the gangsta rap soundtrack, and I think without it the movie is 25% less good. The steely, defiant coolness of the soundtrack contrasts with the deadpan, manicured boredom of life in a soulless corporation. Everyone imagines themselves walking in slo-mo looking cool, and who’s fucking cooler than Ice Cube singing “Down for Whatever?” Yeah, maybe you’re just handing off a floppy disc to your friend who inserts it into a disc drive, but why not feel like the biggest badass on the planet while you’re doing it? Scarface, Geto Boys, Kool Keith… god this soundtrack slaps.

Scott Keith (Episode 248): I believe you were a fellow (or maybe former) victim of the WWE Champions mobile game cult. What would your dream character inclusion be, disregarding rights holders and all that stuff? For me, gotta be Demolition. Also, given a choice strictly between the excessively long title reigns of today or frequent hotshotting the belts from the Attitude Era, which would you prefer to see?

Quick PSA: Scott is right in that I used to play the WWE Champions mobile game, but at some point I kinda stopped paying close attention to playing regularly to the point that I logged in and hardly recognized anything about it. Like many games, unless you were playing incessantly, it got way too fucking complicated. Too many characters, too many different forms of currency and attributes and skillpoints and shit to keep track of, too esoteric. So I just gave up, bid farewell to my faction, and deleted the game off my phone. I’m proud to say I never gave that game one solitary red cent of my money, though. The lesson: You can always walk away from something that no longer brings you joy. You don’t have to watch The Conners all the way to the end, Jim. You’re in a prison of your own making!

With all that said, my dream character inclusion is Koko B. Ware, my sentimental favorite wrestler from when I was a kid. He had a colorful parrot, sometimes wore sunglasses, and did a bitchin’ dropkick off the top rope. That was just about all I needed as a kid. Demolition would be good, too. As for the second part, having lived through this long ass Roman Reigns… *ahem*… reign, my first instinct is to long for the Attitude Era hotshotting of belts. That sucked in its own way, but mostly because of head writer Vince Russo by the end of his tenure. Fuck it. As you yourself say, Scott, wrestling is about finding the new hot and strapping a rocket to them. Let’s go with that, and then prepare ourselves for Chad Gable dropping the title to Montez Ford on a Smackdown that was pre-empted by the NBA playoffs and airs on FS1 three months from now. Viva chaos!

And finally…

Peyton Garcia (Episode 291): As CCD’s resident foodie, I’d like to know the three homegrown restaurants where you’d take out-of-town guests for a Mile High culinary tour. One pick for each breakfast, lunch, and dinner, PLUS (time-permitting) what you like to order at each. 🙂

And we wrap up Denver style. I love Mexican food so much, it’s taken me forever to write this and keep it to one Mexican dish because truthfully we could eat burritos for all three meals and I’d be happy. But I can do better. So here we go…

Breakfast (well, brunch): We’re headed to Ophelia’s Electric Soapbox for bottomless blood orange mimosas, a skillet of green chili cornbread and then whatever grabs us on the menu. I have literally never had anything bad here, and the menu changes regularly. As of this writing, I’m probably ordering the Brunchwrap Benedict Supreme which has poached egg, chorizo, black beans, tostada, tomato, green chili hollandaise & home fries.  Hopefully Erin Stereo or boyhollow are DJ’ing.

Lunch: Time to jaunt just a bit across town for El Taco de Mexico for a chile relleno smothered in green chile, or a cheeksmeat torta and hopefully the weather’s nice and we can sit outside. I’m getting a Jarritos to drink.

Dinner: We’re going old school and finishing up our culinary day at Bastien’s: Home of the Sugar Steak! I’m getting a New York strip cooked rare with a jalapeno rub, a twice baked potato, an iceberg wedge salad, and an Old Fashioned.

After dinner we wrap up at my favorite local dive The Owl Saloon on Colfax for a mystery shot and cheap drinks served by surly but lovely waitstaff. If we’re still somehow hungry at the end of this odyssey, we can grab some of their specialty tots.

Speaking of odysseys, this thing is now more than 3,000 words. Time to wrap up. 10 years down, who knows how many to go. Thank you for taking this journey with me. I adore you more than I could ever tell you. May you find peace, fulfillment and abundant joy wherever you are. See you back here next week!

Jon Eks