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The Chow Hounds's trays were always clean. This gave me a real good whiff of California law, California lawyers, and an inside look at the California penal industry in action. I haven't seen anything since then to change my opinion of how poorly the system works. After I got out of jail I realized that they were going to tear down the studio and widen the street, and there was nothing I could do about it. It was so sad. I had to get the wire cutters and yank all my equipment out of there and evacuate 'Studio Z.

I worked as a salesman in the singles department. I had just enough money to make bus fare back and forth for the first week, but no money for food. So with my first paycheck I went to a little Filipino market at the bottom of the hill and bought a bag of rice, a bag of red beans, a quart of Miller High Life and some condiments to flavor the rice and beans. I went back to the house and made a big pot of stuff that I planned to live on for the next week. I ate a big dish of it and drank some beer. My stomach swelled up as if the Alien was going to pop out.

I fell off the chair, writhing in agony -- cursing the Miller High Life company. While I was working at the store, a black guy named Welton Featherstone came in, shopping for singles. We got to talking and he asked me if I'd ever been to church. I told him I'd been raised a Catholic, and he said, "No, I mean have you ever been to a real church? He told me about a place called the World Church, which happened to be right around the corner from where I lived. It was run by O. He said, "You won't believe it. Tonight's 'Baptism Night' -- you gotta go down there and check it out.

I had actually seen O. Jaggers on TV once -- he had a local 'religious' program that ran for a short time. During the show I saw, he stood by a blackboard and drew diagrams as part of the 'answer' to a letter he claimed to have received from a deeply troubled viewer. The letter requested a theological explanation of UFOs, and the reverend obliged with this answer:.

Because of the great speed at which they travel, their tiny bodies begin to glow when they come in contact with our atmosphere. So, I went to the World Church. It was a large Quonset hut near Temple and Alvarado. Instead of an altar it had a stage with flowers and fake gold knickknacks, displayed between an all-white piano and an all-white organ. Over the stage was an enormous cardboard cutout of Jesus, posed like Superman in the takeoff position, projecting out, over the audience. It was illuminated on either side by small clusters of red and blue lights -- like the ones they use in the driveways of apartment houses called 'Kon-Tiki.

The congregation was poor -- black, Filipino, Japanese and Mexican. They were subjected to three collections during the hour I was there. The 'baptism tank' stretched across the rear of the stage. It was a waist-high sort of aquarium-thing, filled with green water.

Huey, Dewey, and Louie

The baptismal contestants wore white robes. Jaggers dunked each victim into the tank, dragging him sort of by the scruff of the neck , with his head under water, the length of it. One guy couldn't hold his breath and came up gagging. It was pretty disgusting. As I was about to leave, I heard him announce into a handheld Neumann U , during the third collection, "Jesus just told me that you have another thousand dollars in your pockets. As their reward, he said, "I'm now going to rain down the fire of the Holy Ghost on you! Jaggers shouted: "Fire! The people responded by going, "Ooooo!

Woooooo," as if it was really getting all over them.


The organist played scary music and the red and blue lights flashed on the cardboard Jesus. In , he was supporting himself by working as a carpenter, and on weekends he sang with a group called the Soul Giants at a bar in Pomona called the Broadside. Apparently he got into a fight with their guitar player, Ray Hunt, punched him out, and the guitar player quit. They needed a substitute, so I filled in for the weekend. The Soul Giants were a pretty decent bar band. I especially liked Jimmy Carl Black, the drummer, a Cherokee Indian from Texas with an almost unnatural interest in beer.

His style reminded me of the guy with the great backbeat on the old Jimmy Reed records. Davy Coronado was the leader and saxophone player of the band.

The Real Frank Zappa Book

I played the gig for a while, and one night I suggested that we start doing original material so we could get a record contract. Davy didn't like the idea. He was worried that if we played original material we would get fired from all the nice bars we were working in. The only things club owners wanted bands to play then were "Wooly Bully," "Louie Louie" and "In the Midnight Hour," because if the band played anything original, nobody would dance to it, and when they don't dance, they don't drink.

The other guys in the band liked my idea about a record contract and wanted to try the original stuff. Davy departed. It turned out that Davy was absolutely right -- we couldn't keep a job anyplace. One of the places we got fired from was the Tomcat-a-Go-Go in Torrance. During this period in American Musical History, anything with "Go-Go" pasted on the end of it was really hot. All you were required to do, if you were a musician desiring steady work, was to grind your way through five sets per night of loud rhythm tracks, while girls with fringed costumes did the twist, as if that particular body movement summed up the aesthetic of the serious beer drinker.

The groups that got the most work were the ones who pretended to be English. Often they were surf bands who wore wigs so that they looked like they had long hair, or added the word Beatles somewhere in their band name -- you get the drift. Beatle clone groups were all over the place.

We didn't have long hair, we didn't have band uniforms and we were ugly as fuck. A converted shoe store in Norwalk with a beer license also fired us. Of course the gig didn't pay that well: fifteen dollars per night divided by four guys. There was no bandstand, so we were asked to play in a corner, surrounded by tables upon which three middle-aged women the pride of Norwalk -- perhaps relatives of the owner , wearing dark tan pantyhose to hide what I imagined to be Roquefort cheese molded into the shape of human legs, dangled their putrid fringe in our faces while we played that's right, you guessed it "Louie Louie.

While I was living in the bungalow where my stomach almost exploded , I ran into Don Cerveris again. Mark was about fifty and wore a beret. He was living in West Hollywood with a waitress from the Ash Grove named Stephanie, who was also sort of beatnik-looking. The main focus of his work was a group of large paintings that looked like police department pistol targets, designed to be viewed under flashing lights, which gave the illusion that the silhouettes were jumping around.

I found this a little baffling -- but what the fuck do I know from art? We hung out and had some laughs, in spite of the targets. I had come to the conclusion that the band needed a manager, and had thought Ow! Was I going to regret this one! So, I convinced Mark to take the mysterious voyage out to Pomona fifty miles east , where he might listen to the Mothers, live, at the Broadside.

What did I know from managing? I told him that if he wanted to manage the group and could get us some gigs to go ahead. He didn't really know how to do that. What did he know from managing? He brought in a guy named Herb Cohen, who was managing some folk and folk-rock groups and was looking for another act to pick up.

Eventually they became joint managers of our band, with a contract negotiated 'on behalf of the group' by Herb's brother, an attorney named Martin Mutt Cohen. Suddenly we had a Real Hollywood Manager -- an industrial professional who had actually been booking groups into Real Hollywood Nightclubs for years, and would presumably do the same for us. After being forced at great expense into the Musicians' Union local 47 , we started to pick up slightly better paychecks; however, our new, highly skilled management team was taking fifteen percent off the top. Almost overnight we had jumped from starvation level to poverty level.

On Mother's Day, , the name of the band was officially changed to the Mothers. We had begun to build a little constituency on the psychedelic dungeon circuit. There was a 'scene' evolving in L. San Francisco in the mid-sixties was very chauvinistic, and ethnocentric. Rolling Stone magazine helped to promote this fiction, nationwide. The scene in Los Angeles was far more bizarre. No matter how 'peace-love' the San Francisco bands might try to make themselves, they eventually had come south to evil ol' Hollywood to get a record deal.

My recollection is that the highest cash advance paid for signing any group during that time was for the Jefferson Airplane -- an astounding, staggering, twenty-five thousand dollars, an unheard-of sum of money. The Byrds were the be-all and end-all of Los Angeles rock then. They were 'It' -- and then a group called Love was 'It. When we first went to San Francisco, in the early days of the Family Dog, it seemed that everybody was wearing the same costume, a mixture of Barbary Coast and Old West -- guys with handlebar mustaches, girls in big bustle dresses with feathers in their hair, etc.

By contrast, the L. Musically, the northern bands had a little more country style. Everything had that fucking D chord down at the bottom of the neck where you wiggle your finger around -- like "Needles and Pins. The blues was acceptable in San Francisco, but didn't go over in Hollywood at all. I remember the Butterfield Blues Band playing at the Trip.

They were hot shit everyplace else in the country, but the people in L. Tambourine Man. I had seen Lenny Bruce a number of times at Canter's Deli, where he used to sit in a front booth with Phil Spector and eat knockwurst. I didn't really talk with him until we opened for him at the Fillmore West in I met him in the lobby between sets and asked him to sign my draft card. He said no -- he didn't want to touch it. At that time, Lenny lived with a guy named John Judnich. John earned his living part-time by renting PA systems to local groups.

A state-of-the-art system then consisted of two Altec A-7 cabinets powered by a watt amplifier, and no monitor system they hadn't been invented yet -- the old-school audio wizards had convinced everyone that it was impossible to put a microphone that close to any speaker.

Vocalists had no way to hear what they were singing -- they could only hear their voices bouncing off the back wall, from the main PA. We used Judnich's system to perform in the Shrine Exposition Hall about five thousand seats. Anyway, John used to visit every once in a while, and it was on one of these occasions that he introduced us to "Crazy Jerry. Jerry was about thirty-five or forty, and had been in and out of mental institutions for years. He was addicted to speed. When he was a young boy, his mother who worked for the Probation Department presented him with a copy of Gray's Anatomy.

He read it dutifully and noted that in some of the illustrations of muscles it said, "such and such a muscle, when present --," and so it was that Jerry set out to develop the "when present" muscles of the human body. He invented 'exercise devices' for those 'special areas' that had not been inhabited by muscle tissue since the book was written. He didn't look like a bodybuilder, but he was very strong. He could bend re-bars the steel rods used to reinforce concrete by placing them on the back of his neck and pulling forward with his arms.

As a result of this personal experimentation, he had sprouted weird lumps all over his body -- but that was just the beginning. Somewhere along the line, Jerry discovered that he loved -- maybe was even addicted to -- electricity. He loved getting shocked, and had been arrested a number of times when unsuspecting suburbanites had discovered him in their yards, with his head pressed against the electric meter -- because he just wanted to be near it.

He and a friend once jumped over the fence of the Nichols Canyon power substation for the same reason. The friend nearly died from electrocution. Jerry escaped. He lived for a while in Echo Park with a guy called "Wild Bill the Mannequin-Fucker," in a house filled with store mannequins. Wild Bill was a chemist who made speed. Jerry used to carry equipment and ingredients up the steep hill to the lab, in exchange for lodging and free drugs.

Wild Bill had a hobby. The mannequins in the house had been painted and fitted with rubber prosthetic devices so he could fuck them. On festive occasions, he would invite people over to "fuck his family" -- including a little girl mannequin named Caroline Cuntley. Jerry wanted to be a musician, so he taught himself to play the piano by using a mirror. He told me that by watching his hands in a mirror, placed "just so," it made the distance between the keys look smaller, and it was a lot easier to learn that way.

He also wore a metal hat an inverted colander because he was afraid that people were trying to read his mind. One morning, my wife, Gail, and I woke up to find Crazy Jerry hanging by his knees -- like a bat -- from the branch of a tree in our backyard, right outside the bedroom window. Later that night, in our basement, I made a recording of his life story. He didn't have any teeth, so it was hard for him to talk, but in the course of a few hours we learned that, once, when he was in 'The Institution' and they were shooting him full of Thorazine, he was able to jump a twelve-foot fence and get away from the guards.

He went to his mother's house to hide out. The house was locked, so he crawled in under the house and came up in the kitchen through the bread drawer. He got in bed and went to sleep. His mother, the probation officer, came home, found him and turned him in again. Compared to Jerry and Bill, Lenny Bruce was quite normal.

At that time, according to Judnich, Lenny used to stay up all night dressed in a doctor's outfit, listening to Sousa marches and working on his legal briefs. It was sort of colorful in Southern California in those days -- but a couple of Republican Administrations and poof! In , there were only three clubs in Hollywood that meant anything in terms of being seen by a record company, all of them owned by the same 'ethnic organization.

The Action was a place where actors and television personalities went to hang out with hookers; the Whiskey was the permanent residence of Johnny Rivers, who played there for years; and the Trip was the big showplace where all the recording acts played when they came to town -- Donovan, the Butterfield Blues Band, Sam the Sham and the Pharoahs; bands like that all played there. There were a few other clubs in town, but they didn't have the same status as those places. A new group coming to work on the circuit would start at the Action; then, maybe on Johnny Rivers's day off, they could play at the Whisky but they wouldn't get their name on the marquee, which would still say "Johnny Rivers" , and, if they got a record contract, they got to play in the Trip.

We eventually landed a job at the Action. On Halloween night , during the break before the last set, I was sitting on the steps in front of the place, wearing khaki work pants, no shoes, an s bathing shirt and a black hornburg hat with the top pushed up. John Wayne arrived in a tux with two bodyguards, another guy and two ladies in evening gowns -- all very drunk. Reaching the steps, he grabbed me, picked me up and started slapping me on the back, shouting, "I saw you in Egypt and you were great.

I took an immediate dislike to the guy. Remember, all kinds of show people went to this club, from Warren Beatty to Soupy Sales, so it wasn't unusual for someone like "the Duke" to show up. The place was packed. When I got up on stage to begin the last set, I announced: "Ladies and gentlemen, as you know, it's Halloween. We were going to have some important guests here tonight -- we were expecting George Lincoln Rockwell, head of the American Nazi Party -- unfortunately, he couldn't make it -- but here's John Wayne.

As soon as I said that, he got up from his table, stumbled onto the dance floor, and started to make a speech. I leaned the microphone down so everyone could hear it; something along the lines of "--and if I'm elected, I promise to. At the end of the show, the manager of the club came over to me and said, "Be nice to the Duke, because when he gets like this he starts throwing fifty-dollar bills around.

I had to pass his table on my way out. As I went by, he got up and smashed my hat down on top of my head. I took it off and popped it back out. This apparently annoyed him, as he shouted, "You don't like the way I fix hats? I've been fixin' hats for forty years. I said, "I'm not even gonna give you a chance to apologize," and walked out. Not long after that, Johnny Rivers went on tour and we were hired as a temporary replacement at the Whisky-a-Go-Go.

He was up the street, at the Trip, watching a 'big group. He liked it and offered us a record deal thinking he had acquired the ugliest-looking white blues band in Southern California , and an advance of twenty-five hundred dollars. The average budget for an LP in those days was six to eight thousand dollars. Most albums consisted of the A and B sides of an artist's hit single, plus seven or eight other "filler tunes" -- just enough to satisfy the minimum contractual time per side fifteen minutes. The other industrial norm was that most groups didn't really play their own instruments for the basic tracks on their albums.

We played all our own basic tracks on Freak Out! Wilson was based in New York, and had gone back there after booking the dates for the sessions. We were broke. MGM didn't give us the advance right away -- the money was supposed to come later. When I finally located him, he was working out of a building on Seward Street, in Hollywood Decca's old scoring stage. He didn't have any cash but, in lieu of payment, he let us use his place to rehearse in.

We had the best rehearsal hall any band could ever want, but we were starving. We collected soda bottles and cashed them in, using the proceeds to buy white bread, bologna and mayonnaise. Finally, the day of the first session rolled around -- about three in the afternoon at a place called TTG Recorders, Sunset Boulevard at Highland Avenue. Jesse walked around with his hands behind his back, pacing the floor while we were recording, making sure nobody ran up any extra overtime costs by going beyond the three hours allotted for each session.

During a break, I went into the control booth and told him: "Look, Jesse, we got a little problem here. We would like to stay on schedule. We would like to get this all done in the three hours -- these glorious three hours that you've given us to make this record -- but we don't have any money and we're all hungry. Could you lend me ten bucks? There was a drive-in restaurant downstairs from the studio, and I figured ten dollars would be enough to feed the whole band and get us through the session.

Well, Jesse's reputation was such that, if anybody had seen him lending money to a musician, he would have been ruined. He didn't say yes and he didn't say no. I walked away, figuring that was it -- I wasn't going to ask him anymore. I went back into the studio and prepared for the next take. Jesse walked in. He had his hands behind his back. He came over, casually, and pretended to shake hands with me. There was a ten-dollar bill rolled up in his palm.

He tried to pass it to me, except I didn't realize what was going on, and the money fell on the floor. He made a face like "Oh, shit! Without this act of kindness from Jesse, there might not have been a Freak Out! Tom Wilson had returned to Los Angeles for the sessions. He was in the control booth as we began recording the first tune, "Any Way the Wind Blows. The second tune was "Who Are the Brain Police? I could see through the window that he was scrambling toward the phone to call his boss -- probably saying: "Well, uh, not exactly a 'white blues band,' but.

Freak Out! It wasn't as if we had a hit single and we needed to build some filler around it. Each tune had a function within an overall satirical concept. As the sessions continued, the more enthusiastic Wilson became. About the middle of the week I told him, "I would like to rent five hundred [] dollars' worth of percussion equipment for a session that starts at midnight on Friday, and I want to bring all the freaks from Sunset Boulevard into the studio to do something special. We got the equipment and the freaks and, starting at midnight, recorded what turned out to be side four of the album.

Wilson was on acid that night. I didn't know he had taken it -- he told me later. I've tried to imagine what he must have been thinking, sitting in that control room, listening to all that weird shit coming out of the speakers, and being responsible for telling the engineer, Ami Hadani who was not on acid , what to do. By the time Freak Out! In fact, I believe Freak Out! We were then informed that they couldn't release the record -- MGM executives had convinced themselves that no DJ would ever play a record on the air by a group called "The Mothers" as if our name was going to be The Big Problem.


Listeners at the time were convinced that I was up to my eyebrows in chemical refreshment. No way. As a matter of fact, I had several arguments with the guys in the band who were into 'consciousness-altering entertainment products. Cohen said we could continue to give Mark a percentage, but he wanted to take over since, basically, Mark didn't know squat about the management business. The classic line of the meeting was delivered by Ray Collins: "You need to go to Big Sur and take acid with someone who believes in God.

Undaunted by this fascinating suggestion, I continued my duties as the 'resident asshole. The very first Mothers of Invention tour took place in , at a time when hardly anybody outside of L. We were all ugly guys with weird clothes and long hair: just what the entertainment world needed. Fuck all those beautiful groups.

The show had put together a "Freak Out Dance Contest," and invited the contestants to dress "freakishly" for the event. How freakish were they? The weirdest guy in the room was wearing two different-colored socks. In Detroit, we did a television show where we were asked to do something perverted: "lip-sync our hit. From it, I gathered an assortment of random objects and built a set. Next stop: Dallas. We flew into Love Field and found ourselves walking down a long hall, full of soldiers and sailors -- stopped dead in their tracks, staring in utter disbelief. They didn't say anything.

They didn't throw anything at us. They didn't shoot us like Easy Rider -- they just stood there. We were then whisked off to a shopping mall, to some downstairs place where yet another TV teenage dance show was in progress. We played live on that one. The high point of the performance was Carl Franzoni, our 'go-go boy.

Carl has testicles which are bigger than a breadbox. Much bigger than a breadbox. The looks on the faces of the Baptist teens experiencing their grandeur is a treasured memory. At the end of this grueling three-city tour, I was introduced to a fascinating little vixen, employed as a secretary at the Whisky-a-Go-Go: Adelaide Gail Sloatman. It took a couple of minutes, but I fell don't laugh in love, and we started living together -- eventually memorializing the union in a severely ridiculous civil ceremony in We got married a couple of days before I left for the first European tour.

She was nine months pregnant, with delivery imminent. We went to the New York City Hall, arriving just before closing time. I didn't have a wedding ring -- in fact, Gail still doesn't have a wedding ring. There was a vending machine on the counter where you picked up the license that sold ballpoint pens with "Congratulations from Mayor Lindsay" printed on them: ten cents apiece. I had to buy one in order to fill out the form. We then rushed over to one of the little 'marrying cubicles. In the middle of the room was a cheesoid Formica replica-pulpit.

On it was a time clock, the kind you would punch in on when you went to work. I told him I had a ballpoint pen, and pinned it on Gail's bulging maternity dress. Yes, folks, I do have a little bit of something in common with my 'brother-in-Christ,' Pat Robertson -- except I never lied about it. Our royalty was sixty or seventy cents per double LP, which wasn't so bitchen either. On paper, at least, we had a flop. When it came time for us to do our second album, Absolutely Free, MGM proclaimed that we couldn't spend more than eleven thousand dollars on it.

The recording schedules were ridiculous, making it impossible to perfect anything on the album. It was typical of the kind of bullshit we had to put up with until I got my own studio. When you record for 'a label,' you're always working on their budget -- on their schedule. When the budget runs out, that's it.

If the master doesn't sound right, what the fuck do they care? It goes out anyway -- it's only 'product' to them. During this period, I began to hear rumors about problems within MGM. They had one of the best-selling records of all time: the soundtrack to Dr. Zhivago -- but it turned out that at least a quarter of a million units had disappeared out the back door of the pressing plant, and the same seemed to be true of other MGM artists' albums, including ours. This trick was called "The Pressing Plant Overrun.

The guy operating the press would then be instructed by whom? Everybody was having such a good time in 'flower-power-land' they didn't realize what kind of hose job they were getting. That was only the beginning of my problems with multinational record companies. By I had sued the two industry giants, CBS and Warners, and had learned a lot more about 'creative accounting practices. It took about eight years to resolve.

I usually don't listen to my records once they are finished and released, but in , during the second European tour, We're Only In It for the Money won the Dutch equivalent of a Grammy. There was an award ceremony, during which I was handed a little statue -- with the album playing in the background. I noticed that whole chunks of songs were missing. Someone at MGM had been offended by the lyrics and had arbitrarily chopped portions of them out -- in one instance, about eight bars of music -- just enough to fuck up the song on the way to the bridge.

I couldn't understand why anyone would chop that out. Years later I learned that an MGM executive was convinced that the word "pad" referred to a sanitary napkin. He became obsessed with the idea that a waitress somewhere was feeding sanitary napkins to people in a restaurant, and demanded in violation of our contract that it be removed. That guy needs to see a doctor.

A Ghost Does My Makeup

When I realized that the record had been censored, I told the people at the ceremony: "I can't accept this statue. I prefer that the award be presented to the guy who modified the record, because what you're hearing is more reflective of HIS work than mine. It is difficult to describe these guys, their family and their 'hobbies' -- so much of it will sound like fiction -- however, let me assure you that this has all been documented on tape, in their own words. The family was from Arkansas. The Dad Dink was a furniture salesman in San Bernardino, but, back in the way-back-when, he used to play 'bones' or 'spoons' in a minstrel show.

To relive the golden days of yesteryear he would, from time to time, force his children to accompany him Ronnie on guitar, Kenny on trombone in a living room replay of a minstrel routine called "Lazy Bones. The kids often found this to be an inconvenience, as they were fascinated by, and constantly perfecting new techniques for, The Manly Art Of Fart-Burning. Kenny explained to me that it was scientific -- that it demonstrated this is a real quote "Compression, ignition, combustion and exhaust. I can't remember the Mom's name, but she was a pleasant, hardworking lady who helped pay the rent by waitressing at a place called Ed's Cafe, in Ontario.

Ronnie attended high school in Chula Vista, a San Diego suburb, dropping out in his sophomore year. While in school, he made pocket change by selling homemade 'raisin wine' to kids in his class. It was an evil confection, made out of raisins, yeast, sugar and water -- then sun-fermented for at least a couple of days in mason jars on the roof of the old homestead. If you care to try this yourself, remember, as Ronnie once explained: "You wait for the raisins to swell up to about the size of deer turds.

This eventually led to trouble when, in an attempt to raise his product's octane level, he built a still in the backyard, and it exploded. Ever the professional, he maintained a thick book of'recipes' for new and exciting beverages. He swallowed some sinus phlegm and said, "Cuz it reminds me of the Mafia' -- hyulk, hyulk After the explosion, the family moved to Ontario, California. Kenny got arrested for something I don't know what and went to 'reform school.

Huey, Dewey, and Louie | Disney Wiki | FANDOM powered by Wikia

So, while Kenny was away at 'boarding school,' Ronnie and his pal Dwight Bement eventually the tenor sax player for Gary Puckett and the Union Gap had the house pretty much to themselves. Both parents were working, so the guys were in Dropout Heaven, spending their days playing poker in Ronnie's bedroom. During the games we can't be sure how this part got started , they began a competition of 'booger-smearage' -- on the window by the bed.

This window eventually became opaque. One day, the Mom stuck her head into the room and got hysterical, demanding immediate removal of the frosting. According to Ronnie: "We had to use Ajax and a putty knife to get the damn things off. Eventually, Kenny came back from 'boarding school. It was winter when they lived out there and, since there was no toilet in the garage -- and not wishing to brave the elements -- the lads relieved themselves nightly into some of the Mom's mason jars, lined up along the garage wall, awaiting the installation of next season's home-canned fruits.

Now, Ronnie wasn't the only cardplayer in the family -- Kenny also liked to play -- and on a few of those cold winter nights, Kenny and Motorhead hosted a few games for the other fun guys in the neighborhood. Eventually, the beer took effect, and everybody started reaching for the jars. Many games later, the boys ran out of jars. The solution to this problem came in the form of a large earthenware crock like the one Ronnie used to watch the raisins puff up in.

In a festive ceremony, all trophy jars were poured into the crock -- just to find out how much piss there was around there "Wow! Look at that! We're really pissin' a lot! Jesus H. Christ, what a lot of piss we got here! Haw haw haw. Eventually, Kenny moved back into the house, and Motorhead moved in with me. One day, a few months later, Motorhead visited Kenny and, just for old times' sake, took a peek at the crock in the garage. Lifting the board which covered it, they beheld several 'denizens' swimming in the piss -- unknown 'things' that looked sort of like tadpoles.

Kenny fished one out and plopped it on the shop bench. It had a tail, and a head which Kenny described as being "about as big as your little fingernail -- white, with a black dot in the middle of it. Motorhead poked it with a nail and "some clear stuff came out. They were then instructed by the bewildered furniture salesman to "pour that whole damn crock down the toilet!

Eventually, MGM made an 'innocent mistake': they missed an option pickup. They forgot to send us the little piece of paper that says, "We pick up your option -- you are still under contract to us -- we still want you to make records for us. With that as leverage, we negotiated a 'logo deal. The fact is, everybody knew it was the Mothers of Invention because it said so on the cover: "Is this the Mothers of Invention recording under a different name in a last ditch attempt to get their cruddy music on the radio?

I conceived that album along the same lines as the compositions in Stravinsky's neoclassical period. The listener wouldn't really think that a song like "Stuff Up the Cracks" was an honest-to-goodness s song. In terms of timbre, it's right on the fringe because of the vocal parts -- but those chords would never happen in original doo-wop. There were only a few examples of that type of harmonic deviation during the fifties -- the best one being "This Paradise" by Donald Woods and the Bel-Aires on Flip -- so our chord progressions were not exactly part of that tradition.

What was consistent with tradition on that album was the approach to the harmony, the type of vocal style and timbre used in it, and the simplicity of most of the beats. Of course, some of the lyrics were on a sub-Mongoloid level, but that was just another norm, carried to an extreme. Upon hearing this, Louie and Huey looked at Dewey and nodded at each other, implying that some if not all of Dewey's personality traits in the series are product of brain damage. Louie is the youngest with the green color palette.

He is somewhat absent-minded, and the most lazy of the group. However, he sometimes notices things the others miss. In 's DuckTales , Louie is portrayed as the most laid-back of the brothers. While adventurous in his own right, Louie would much rather loaf around on the couch while watching TV all day. For all his laziness, Louie is also incredibly crafty and intelligent. Like Scrooge, he loves treasure, but doesn't want to actually put in the work to earn an honest living.

Instead, he resorts to creating "get-rich-quick" schemes in hopes of making a buck by doing as little work as possible. Louie takes after Gladstone Gander in this regard, whom he affectionately refers to as "Uncle Gladstone". Because of his mischievous ways, Huey, Dewey and Webby refer to Louie as the "evil triplet", which he takes in stride.

Louie has a moral compass, however. Though he loves money, he will never resort to endangering others for the sake of getting it. In fact, Louie is the most vulnerable and emotional of the triplets. Behind his mellow attitude, he is somewhat of a coward, which plays into why he'd rather lounge around at home than partake in Scrooge's adventures. In most of their animated portrayals, the nephews speak with a similar "duck speech" as their Uncle Donald.

As such, Clarence Nash —who originated the voice of Donald—gave the boys the exact same trick voice as their uncle, which lasted for a number of decades until the s. From the '60s onward, there was effort to make the boys more intelligible than Donald, while still maintaining a duck-like quality in their voices. This began with the The Mellomen , who voiced the boys in the animated educational films Scrooge McDuck and Money and Donald's Fire Survival Plan , but was cemented with the introduction of Russi Taylor in the late s.

Russi's portrayal of the triplets was so well-received that she continues to voice them in a majority of their speaking roles, even to this day. In Quack Pack , the boys were given distinct personalities, and were therefor each given separate voices. Development of an animated short centering the nephews of Walt Disney 's popular character, Donald Duck, had already been underway by The idea of Donald's nephews came from Al Taliaferro , who served as an artist for Disney's Silly Symphonies comic strip.

It has also been noted that the duck triplets were influenced by Mickey Mouse 's nephews, Morty and Ferdie Fieldmouse. Before the short's completion, Taliaferro featured the nephews in the comic strip simply titled Donald's Nephews , released on October 17 , Huey, Dewey, and Louie in their first animated appearance, Donald's Nephews.

Six months afterward, the short of the same name would debut on April 15 , , and marked Huey, Dewey, and Louie's first animated appearance. In the short, Huey, Dewey, and Louie were portrayed as wily and mischievous, while Donald's perspective was an exaggerated look at the difficulties of parenting.

The tone, like most of Donald's cartoons, was comedic and filled with adversarial hijinks, and this battle-of-wits relationship between Donald and the boys would become a staple in the former's animated career from that moment forward. Over the span of 27 theatrical short cartoons, Huey, Dewey, and Louie were amongst Donald Duck's most frequent adversaries rivaled only by Chip and Dale , who first encountered Donald in They were interchangeable, having the exact same physical appearance, personality traits, and voices usually provided by Clarence "Ducky" Nash , who also voiced Donald.

Their colors varied by short with the exception of red, which had always appeared on at least one of the triplets sans 's The Nifty Nineties , where they all wore blue. Throughout the late '40's and s, all three of the nephews wore red. Over the course of their career, while still filled with comedic slapstick, the relationship between the boys and Donald became slightly more domesticated and down-to-earth.

In 's The New Spirit , for example, Donald listed the boys as his dependents on his tax form, which also stated that they were legally adopted by him. As the name suggests, it starred Scrooge McDuck , a character created by Carl Barks for Disney comic strips, who first appeared two decades earlier in The boys had previously interacted with Scrooge regularly on the printed page, but never before in animation until this point. The boys would not appear on the silver screen again until 's Mickey's Christmas Carol , where they were briefly seen trimming a Christmas tree during Fezziwig 's party.

In the television special, the boys team up with Scrooge and Goofy to win back the latter's coveted trophy by beating the Beagle Boys in a soccer game. Russi Taylor most famously known for her work as Minnie Mouse voiced the boys for the first time here, and she would reprise her role numerous times in the following decades. Months later marked the debut of DuckTales , an animated series part of the Disney Afternoon television block.

It was based on the Carl Barks Uncle Scrooge comics and centered the miserly duck on his globe-trotting adventures, with Huey, Dewey, and Louie under his care following Donald's enlistment in the U. The short established what would become Huey, Dewey, and Louie's trademark colors: red, blue and green. Disney archivist Dave Smith once said, "Note that the brightest hue of the three is red Huey , the color of water, dew, is blue Dewey , and that leaves Louie, and leaves are green.

In , after the huge success of DuckTales , Huey, Dewey, and Louie would star in their own series, Quack Pack , which significantly featured them as teenagers. The series ran for one season, and a total of 39 episodes. In , Disney debuted a reboot of DuckTales. The producers of the series made an effort to develop the nephews into their own, individual characters.

They also established that the order of how audiences say their names — "Huey, Dewey, and Louie" — is also the order of their birth. The boys later starred in the animated television series DuckTales , in which they appeared in adventures with their great-uncle Scrooge McDuck due to Donald having enlisted in the U.

The boys' personalities were mainly based on their comic book appearances as opposed to the ones in the theatrical shorts. The series focuses on the boys' life with Scrooge while Donald is off serving in the Navy. Throughout the course of the series, the boys come to know various characters such as Launchpad McQuack Scrooge's personal pilot and bumbling sidekick , Gyro Gearloose a wacky inventor who's convoluted inventions constantly cause mayhem in Duckburg , Scrooge's maid Mrs.

Beakley and her granddaughter Webby. With all these characters, the boys create strong, family-oriented bonds that last the entire series. Specifically with Webby, who acts as the "honorary niece" at times, with the young girl duckling even referring to Scrooge as "Uncle Scrooge", like the boys.

Even so, Huey, Dewey, and Louie have often expressed dislike in having Webby tag along on their adventures. They also meet several of Scrooge's enemies and are often their targets in the villains' plots to overtake Scrooge-- Magica De Spell a wicked sorceress is one of the many antagonists, along with Scrooge's rival Flintheart Glomgold and, most notably, the infamous Beagle Boys , who are some of the more bumbling foes the boys face, though they still cause a great threat to McDuck's fortune due to their enormously large family.

In this film, the boys must help Scrooge defeat a powerful wizard named Merlock in his quest to dominate the world through the use of a genie's magic. Duck [3] and Louis Duck. In Quack Pack , the boys were given more distinct personalities, with Huey being something of a ladies' man, Dewey as a computer whiz and Louie as a comic book geek.

Most episodes revolved around the boys' mischievous nature and often getting into trouble with their Uncle Donald. In some episodes, including the series' pilot, the boys would become their superhero alter egos known as "The T-Squad". Huey had the ability of super speed, Dewey had incredible intelligence and psychic powers and Louie held the power of super strength. The hero forms were provided by their great-uncle Ludwig Von Drake. In Mickey Mouse Works , the boys played recurring roles. Like their original classic cartoon appearances, the boys would often battle Donald. In the series, they were voiced by Tony Anselmo.

In " Donald's Rocket Ruckus ", the boys attempted to ride an attraction they were too short for. In " Survival of the Woodchucks ", they followed the guidelines of the Junior Woodchucks but retaliated against Donald when they learned that he didn't pass the survival test. One of their most notable appearances in the series is in " Mickey's Remedy ", where they were babysat by Mickey while Donald went out.

They tricked Mickey into spoiling them until Mickey learned of their trick. As punishment, Mickey had the boys believe that they were dying until they promised to change their ways. Huey, Dewey, and Louie appeared in the direct-to-video film, once again voiced by Russi Taylor. In the film, the boys star in a segment where they wish for Christmas every day, which is them reliving the exact same day from before in a never-ending loop due to the wish's effects. The first two days are great, but then become extremely annoying afterward. When they try to fix time, they sabotage Christmas in order to mix things up.

Despite this, they ended up destroying and ruining Christmas. When Donald is hit by the Christmas tree, instead of yelling at the boys and losing his temper, as usual, he just lies there depressed and humiliated, and the boys realize what they did was the worst thing they've ever done. Feeling guilty and wanting to redeem themselves, they make sure the next day became the greatest Christmas they ever had. This restores the balance to their family and the never-ending Christmas ends.

In House of Mouse , the boys served as the club's band, first calling themselves the Quackstreet Boys an obvious parody of the Backstreet Boys. They then changed their name to the Splashing Pumpkins parodying the Smashing Pumpkins but went back to being the Quackstreet Boys in later episodes. Alexis Rhodes. Bastion Misawa. Chazz Princeton. Syrus Truesdale. Jesse Anderson. Jaden Yuki. Officer Trudge. Akiza Ininski. Jack Atlas. Crow Hogan.

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