Tag Archive: Village Voice


11:44 PM – BOB

I drove in from Long Island and met up with Chad and Rafael in Brooklyn. Rafael has a roommate and a guest.  Both of whom seem like fine folks.  There’s also a dog that is 183 in dog years and wears a diaper.

Getting back in the tour groove took a bit of effort. Needless to say, I was late to The Tank.  As I did with all the venues, I shipped DVDs so that if I’m late or in jail, they can screen the film without me.  For some reason, The Tank couldn’t find the disks.  Adding insult to my tardiness was the fact that I didn’t realize that I’d have to drive through the Theater District to get to the joint.

Running Late to the Tank

In the long run, it all went down just fine. There was a little group for Hell on Wheels and about twice as many for Total Badass.  The crowds were into the flicks and we got a great response. This is our final NYC screening and we’ve been having a blast here.  It was just plain cool to see the killer reviews we got in the NY Times and the Village Voice, but it didn’t seem to translate into noticeably larger audiences.  Last Friday at reRun was probably our biggest draw.  It was a pretty full house, but not a sell-out.  And the cinema is tiny.  I think it holds 80.   I guess I figured that a great review in the Times would get some asses in seats.  Hell, maybe it did. Maybe there would have only been 8 people there without the Times write up.

Tank Basement

2:50 AM – CHAD
So tonight we screened Total Badass in Manhattan at a place called The Tank. We were right in the middle of the theatre district and Times Square, down the road from Radio City Music Hall and all that shit, but oddly didn’t get much spillover of tourist traffic. On the bright side, most of the people we had been staying and/or partying with in Manhattan came… Payson, George and Virginia, Raphael for his third appearance, and my old college buddy, George Gierer even showed up. It seems like Austin’s James Teiser was there too, but don’t take my word for it. We went to Rudy’s Bar and Grill afterwards to eat hotdogs, and Gierer treated us to some Pork Slap beers, which immediately became my favorite new beer I discovered on the entire trip. Not because it was good, necessarily, but because of the two pigs slapping their bellies together on the can. In fact, I think the beer might have even been kind of disgusting, but the pigs made that alright somehow, and it seemed to get you fucked up more than usual. So fucked up, in fact, that I went ahead and lost the Flip video camera that had survived through the entire production of Total Badass as well as our west coast trip last summer and seventeen days on the road this time around. As such, I have no video of the riveting Q and A that followed our Manhattan premiere. Eventually, most of us went back to George and Virginia’s house and partied into the night. I didn’t have to shit near as bad this time when I got over there, because there were bathrooms at The Tank.

Anyway, remember how on yesterday’s journal entry, I told you that I wrote an article one time that explains why I don’t get as bent out of shape about Texas Longhorn Football as I used to? Remember how I told you I would reprint it later on when there wasn’t much else to talk about? Well, you’d think that the night that a movie about my life premiered in Manhattan wouldn’t fall into that category, but I really don’t have anything more to say about it, so I’m going to go ahead and get the Longhorn shit out of the way right now. This is a story I wrote back in 2005, when writing didn’t bug the living shit out of me, like it does now…

From Top to Bottomus

I could sit here and carry on for quite some time about how much The Texas Longhorns winning The National Championship in football means to me, but it’s actually much too special and important of an event in my life for me to completely share it with you people. Let’s put it this way…. Before the Longhorns won, Jesus could have come back to Earth and told me, “Chad, it’s time. I’ve come to take you, your family, and your friends to heaven with me.” And I would have said, “You know what, Jesus? Fuck You. I’m not going anywhere until The Longhorns win a National Championship.” That might seem a bit worldly to you, but seriously, there is no way in Hell I would have died a happy man if this hadn’t happened and now that it has, my life is complete and nothing can stop me from reaching my full potential. Oh sure, you would think that little creature comforts such as having children, graduating from college, or being such a phenomenal success in the entertainment business would have afforded me this level of happiness in life, but they offered me nothing compared to the sense of accomplishment and overall satisfaction that have swept over me since that glorious day. You have to understand that before now, underneath all of the smiles and successes, I was but a husk of a man because I knew it was all a lie. I would be out in society going through the motions with the rest of humanity, trying to make my mark on history, but all I could hear inside my head was a little voice saying, “It’s all bullshit. You, your people, and your state are all a bunch of losers because The Longhorns haven’t won a National Championship in your lifetime. You will all be forgotten, and your lives are in vain.” I have never really used the word “bliss” all that much in the past. In fact, I always thought it was kind of a pussy-word, but now I’m not ashamed to tell you that in my heart and in my mind, I have a feeling of absolute bliss. The best thing about it is the lack of caring… the complete and total aloofness… that I have towards sports now. All of the failures and setbacks and tragedies in my life… the deaths of loved ones, the felony convictions, the struggles with substance abuse… they were relatively easy for me to deal with compared to The Longhorn’s 1999 home opener upset at the hands of North Carolina State and the three blocked punts that went along with it. I used to suffer every loss as though it was a lesion upon my very soul. Every season that The Longhorn’s shot at a title slipped away left me with the horrifying uncertainty of whether or not all of my dreams would ever come true and because of this, I was never able to live my life without fear. Now, I could give a fuck less if a plane goes down with the whole team on it because it doesn’t matter anymore, nothing does. All of this bad shit that is supposed to happen in 2006 and all of the signs of the apocalypse and growing indications that we’ve all succumbed to evil are much easier to deal with since the UT win. In fact, maybe it’s a good time for the end of the world. What else do we have to live for? These are the things I’m telling myself in the aftermath of the most wonderful thing to ever happen to me.

So anyway, this other time, I fucked shit. I actually fucked shit. As fun as that might sound, it actually turns out to be quite unpleasant. If you don’t want to hear about it, I suggest you quit reading. I had gone to the home of a large woman who I met over the internet, which should come as no surprise because I’m like Nanook of the North when it comes to hunting down fat chicks on the computer… I log on with a fucking ice axe. Before you get the wrong idea, I don’t want you to think I’m complaining. I obviously think fat girls are sexy, or I wouldn’t fuck so many of them. The funny thing about this is that the fine girls I fuck get all weirded out when they find out I fucked some fatty… They take it all personal like it’s a reflection on them or something. I don’t know what it is, I guess they’re just pissed off because they spend all that time and effort staying in shape and being fine, and it turns out they could have fucked me anyway.

So, I’m laying back in bed with homegirl, who’s balled up at my waist, giving me head, and I tell her she needs to swing her ass on up my way so I can start manipulating it whilst she goes about her business. I don’t know what is behind the universal assumption that fat girls are always going to let you fuck them in the ass, but I have a couple of theories. First, there’s the self esteem issue, where maybe the girl feels like giving up the ass gives her a much needed advantage over the competition. That might explain the girl’s motivations, but why does it always seem like such a natural option to the guy? Is it because every part of a fat girl is much larger than the corresponding part on a skinny girl, so it stands to reason that the same would hold true for her butthole? I mean she eats more, she takes bigger shits, so maybe her butthole is more suited for having things stuffed up it. The truth is, some girls are so fat, their butthole is pretty much the only place you can fuck them.

I know that may have all been a bit over the line, but it’s nothing compared to the shit you’ll tell yourself about not needing a rubber when you fuck a fat chick. First of all, you mistakenly assume that you are the only person on earth who would even fuck this girl, when deep down inside you should realize that ninety-seven percent of your friends would, too (with the other three percent being gay). Then, you start telling yourself that she must not have AIDS, or she wouldn’t be so fat. Or even if she does have AIDS, she’s so big, by the time it gets down to her pussy, you’ll be gone. Some girls are so fat, their AIDS never even know you’re fucking them. You’ll be all draped on top if her, hounding away, and she’s like. “Shhhhh! My AIDS are sleepin’!” Some of you guys with smaller dicks don’t have to worry because your peehole is never going to make it anywhere it could pick up a disease. You’re fucking skin, dude… labia at best. What were we talking about again? Oh yeah, so homegirl motors around to where her ass is facing me. Despite their awkwardness on the land, fat women are actually quite fluid and graceful when in bed, which brings me to a story that I have been wanting to tell for years.

One time my parents took my sister and me to The Houston Zoo and we were all at the hippopotamus tank. I was about twelve and my sister, Ashley, was about five. We were in this big crowd of people watching the hippopotamuses swim around in what was really nothing more than a large swimming pool. It must have been mating season, because there was this big male hippo courting a bunch of females. He hopped up on one’s back, and I remember I decided to try out the word “humping” on my parents. You know how when you’re young, there are bad words you aren’t supposed to say, but as you get older, some of them become fair game? For instance, at twelve years old, you might get away with damn or hell, but shit and fuck are strictly off limits and words like “hump” are in a grey area. Well, I decide to try it out and I announce to the crowd, “Look, they’re humping!” and my dad, Bo, just backhands me right there in front of everybody because if there’s anything he hates, it’s being involved in some kind of sophomoric public spectacle. I promptly took “humping” off the list of acceptable words to use in front of the folks.

Moving on, have you ever heard a hippopotamus bellow? They have this really loud “moo” that you’d recognize anywhere once you’d heard it, and the male starts belting out a couple of them while he’s humping his girl. Well, Bo cups his hands around his mouth and starts bellowing back, and they get in this big argument, for lack of a better word. The hippo would just go “Bwaaaah!” and Bo would go “Bwaaaah!” right back. I don’t know if it thought that Bo was another male hippopotamus, or if it was just pissed off that somebody was bothering it while it was fucking, but the hippo was becoming visibly agitated. I hopped off its mate and swam across the pool towards the crowd, pulling up in front of us all broadside, like a battleship. Its tail was right above the waterline, and it started to whirl around, like a propeller… I had no idea hippopotami could do this. Well, this thing starts taking a shit, and its tail was just slinging the turds right out of the pool and up towards the crowd. The shit started raining down over to everybody’s right, and the hippo just turned its body accordingly, strafing the crowd. I can remember watching a wall of doo-doo working its way towards us, like a sprinkler hitting the sidewalk. People were literally running over each other to get out of the way.

Anyway, I’m not trying to say this girl was as big as a bull hippopotamus by any means… but she could have passed for a calf. Once again, I want to assure you that I’m not complaining. In fact, this was one of the better buttfuckings I’ve ever been involved in, before everything went to shit. It was one of only a couple of times in my life that a girl’s butthole had totally given way, allowing me to fuck it as I chose. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been around when that has happened, but you can get pretty wrapped up in the moment. So, I’m hammering away back there like John Henry, and I had no idea that anything was even wrong until my whole dick just started stinging. I looked down and everything looked fine- clean as a whistle. I didn’t realize that she had taken an entire shit, and my dick was the only thing holding it in. I had been fucking it for about five minutes without knowing because my cock had created a vacuum at the anus from which nothing could escape, not even smell. My dick was being digested. I pulled out and broke the seal, and her fucking butthole turned into Spindletop. I had like three pounds of shit in my lap in a half a second. I fucked shit. That’s all I could think. I would try to come up with some witty way to explain to you exactly how much damage was done, but I have never seen this much shit all in one place in my life and this was fucked shit, mind you, so it went everywhere. I was in a state of shock as I got up and walked to the shower, and my dick was still hard. I had like two and a half turds worth of pounded shit piled up on top of my dick like a key-bump, so I had to walk all slow so none of it would fall off on the carpet. It was like that race they do at picnics with an egg balanced in a spoon, except with shit and a hard on. I saw myself in the bathroom mirror out of the corner of my eye and I looked like Rambo hiding in the mud, hunting for Russians. I don’t know if you’ve ever been shit all over by another person, but it gives you this look on your face that you can’t get rid of for days. It’s a look that says, “I fucked shit.” I always try to be a total gentleman when dealing with women, believe it or not, so the whole time homegirl was apologizing, I was like,”Sorry? What are you sorry for honey? Oh, that little ol’ mess? Don’t be silly…”

Anyway, they took the hippopotamus tank out of the Houston Zoo years ago. My kids and I went there last summer and they were devastated to learn it was gone. They have always loved the story about the time the hippopotamus tried to poo-poo on grandpa. I have yet to tell them the one about the time I fucked shit…

3:14 AM – BOB
We ended up partying all night with some old Austin friends and some new New York friends.  We met up with Austin ex-pat Bryant Jackson who has offered his couch/floor for the next three nights.

Chad and I ventured to the late night pizza joint to grab a bite of booze-absorbing pizza before crashing out.  We witnessed this spectacle while chomping our grub:

Street Brawl

Guns were flashed.  Fun!

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10:43AM – CHAD
So, we have a screening today at noon back at reRun, but Bob just got a text from Aaron Hillis, who booked the screenings, explaining that he wasn’t going to be able to make it down to the movie this afternoon. Now, that really shouldn’t be a big deal, but apparently I’m not allowed over at reRun anymore without Aaron there to take personal responsibility for me. We were specifically texted not to go down there without him, so I guess he’s my official “handler” for the week. This gives me the day off to watch college football.

11:11 AM – BOB
Regarding last night, my filmmaker friend Michael Galinsky wrote this:

Posted by Michael on November 19th, 2010 in Rumur
Total Badass http://www.rumur.com/news/totall-badass

About 8 months ago my good friend Bob Ray sent me a cut of his documentary “Total Badass”. The cut was a bit of a mess but it was clear that there was a pretty amazing tale unfolding. Tonight i saw the final cut at a screening in Brooklyn and I was shocked at how much he had been able to do without changing it significantly.

The film follows his friend Chad Holt, who is a total badass. I’ll leave the explaining and the reviews to the reviewers http://movies.nytimes.com/2010/11/19/movies/19haleroundup.html but i did want to relate a post show screening story from tonight. Early in the film we learn of Chad’s exploits in his band, Front Butt. In the band he would wear a butt in the front of his pants and he would leap from the stage into a trash can. It was clear from the footage that the performance transcended schtick. The danger and the pain were real and palpable, painful to watch. The band, like all other aspects of his life was designed to transcend expectation and push the envelope in all directions. It would be quite easy at first glance to kind of dismiss the front butt, and the stage diving, and the music as a gimmick. However, it was clear that while for some people the experience was like a freak show, for others there was something transformative about how Chad pushed way beyond the boundaries to an area of danger almost as a gift to the audience. In pushing himself so far he made room on the other side for those too scared to push themselves.

In order to drum up press and enthusiasm for the screening, the booker had promised live stunts. He bought a trash can and Chad was urged to use it. While in some ways the film is a chronicle of Chad’s exploits, it is also a tale of redemption. Over the course of the film, Chad pulls his life together and is able to start taking care of his son and daughter full time. At the screening Chad said, “I don’t want to do this because I’m at a different place in my life. I’ll do this, but it won’t be authentic and it will be kind of sad. But ya’ll take a vote and if you vote on it I’ll do it.” I voted no. It was a tie. I had a bad feeling about it for two reasons. Number 1, I just thought it would be a lame gesture. Number 2, Chad mentioned that he didn’t have health insurance and I just thought it would be awful if their film tour was messed up because of this silly gesture.

After some awkward back and forth Chad brushed past me and headed towards the front of the venue holding the trash can. The filmmaker had given me his flip camera to capture the q and a so I followed behind him. When we got to the front he started to take his wallet and phone and lighters out of his pocket and dumped them on the hostess platform. A few people had streamed out of the venue to witness, but he didn’t wait around. He dove into the trash can and headed down the stairs. I felt the same hot jet of adrenalin that I get when my kids fall. He flopped painfully down a couple of steps and I knew that something was wrong. He hit the middle platform with a thud and then rolled down the next section. He hit the bottom explosively and flopped to a halt. Staring at both him and the little flip camera screen had given the whole thing an edge of surrealism.

The filmmaker, Bob has his little photo camera trained on Chad. He filmed the stillness because Chad wasn’t moving. I headed down the steps and it was clear that he was breathing but my sense of dread began to turn towards real fear. With his feet splayed at an awkward angle it seemed that he might be hurt. I also thought that he might be faking it to let those who had voted for his degradation feel some guilt. There was a lot of confusion and the stress level started to ratchet up the longer he laid like that. I searched Bob’s expression for any sense of fear or doubt, but found none, which was comforting – at first. My jacket was locked in the theater so I got the promoter to let me in. He seemed a little nervous, but excited by the tension. We were all kind of joking about it, but after 20 minutes i was starting to get nervous. The danger of it started to get to me. Sure, there was a 90% chance he was fine, but if he was hurt, or had a spine injury he needed help immediately.

We went back to the front and I checked his feet. They hadn’t moved at all. I started to get freaked out, so freaked out in fact that I felt the need to leave. Bob moved forward and peered inside the trash can with a lighter to check his eyes. He was calm but appeared nervous. He couldn’t seem to get any kind of response from Chad. Finally a guy standing near by said, “This is ludicrous, i’m calling an ambulance”

I left. I still thought it might be a performance but I was cooked. i couldn’t take the pressure and i didn’t want to get caught up in the drama. I bid Bob goodnight and took off in a foul mood. I thought about Chad’s kids. I pictured him in a wheel chair. I felt like shit and my thoughts were flying around like bats in a small room.

About three blocks from the venue I heard the ambulance on its way and i was glad to be out of there. When I got home I saw that I had a voice mail. My friend Adam had called to tell me that moments after I left Chad popped up. It had been all performance. In total badass form he talked his way out of trouble with the ambulance.

That was high art.

2:02PM – CHAD
Ok, so there’s this bar in Manhattan called Stout, and it’s like Texas Longhorns headquarters if you are in New York City. During a good year, the entire club is packed with Longhorn fans during the football games. This year, 2010, has been so shitty for the Longhorns that the fair-weathered fan base has dried up and the bar only shows the games in a dingy back room, hidden away from public view. Bob and I went to said dingy back room and ate a pizza while Texas beat the shit out of Florida Atlantic to vent out some of their frustrations over the year’s other losses. You know how a guy will get his ass kicked in a bar fight, so he goes home and beats the shit out of his wife and kids? That’s kind of what Texas did to Florida Atlantic.

10:51 PM – BOB
I’m sitting in a house in Long Island.  I know it says that it’s Day 11, but I’m really writing this from the future.  If you’ve been reading the tour journal, you already know that all my entries are time-traveling lies.  So really, it’s Day 16 (Thanksgiving eve) and I’m acting like it’s Day 12. I know this is confusing, but time-travel always is.  Anyway, my point is that I don’t remember what happened on Day 11. I know it was only five days ago, but for the life of me, I can’t remember what happened.  In fact, five days ago seem like it was about 27 months ago… maybe it’ll come back to me.  I’ll let you know, if so.

Perhaps the distraction of a possible NYC fire will liven things up:

11:45PM – CHAD
We went to visit our old friend, Patrick Holmes, at The Living Room where he tends bar. Patrick is a friend from way back when Bob and I lived next door to each other over on West Campus in the early 90’s. He’s been living in New York now for well over a decade and I look him up anytime I go up there. Shit, he came out and saw Rock Opera out there when we took it up for the New York Underground Film Festival way back in 2000. I guess that excuses him for not coming to any of the Total Badass screenings this time around. Plus, he did get us so fucked up at the bar that I really can’t tell you anything about the night, other than Patrick was there.

12:01 AM – BOB
Chad and I walked back to the crash-pad near the World Trade Center.  We found a hard-copy of the Village Voice.  The page with the review has a huge pic of Chad.  It’s the pic on the DVD cover (thanks, Jerry Milton!) where Chad is in a tumped-over trashcan, apparently naked but with shoes on and knees bleeding.  A striking pic, to be sure.  And the Voice knew this, giving it nearly half the page.

I found this cute write up:
http://www.theroadtorollergirl.com/2010/11/19/slackerstruck-a-wannabe-meets-hell-on-wheels-director-bob-ray/comment-page-1/#comment-116

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