Twenty years ago I hooked up with Rico Murder. He was from Venice and I was from Huntington Beach. We met at The Kiss/Cheap Trick Forum show in Los Angeles back in 1977. We both ran away from home and formed The Puddy Jr. Band with D.A. "Wellington" Fostex and Nick Gnarley. They had just disbanded their seminal LA punk band The Raid , and I had just left San Francisco, sickened by all the hippies. They had to break up after all the clubs in Southern California banned them from playing. Since no clubs were open to our brand of fun, house parties were the only outlet for us to play. Poor suckers would open up their houses while mom and pop were on vacation. 100s of punk kids would overtake these parties pogoing and worming way past curfew. I became famous for being the first knucklehead to worm on glass.

  In those days the climate was different and Joe General Public was a lot less tolerant of this menace called Punk Rock. It was all about getting loaded- any way possible. To us straight edge was what we used to cut our drugs. The punk sub-culture was also about violence. It was more violence as sport. We did more damage to ourselves than anyone else. Self infliction (ie: cutting ourselves up) was a great remedy for boredom. Huntington Beach cops would regularly pull us over and take photos of our scarred up arms.

  We soon skyrocketed into super punk rock stardom. We almost put out a great record back then. It would have been big. If only our engineer wouldn't have left the tapes in the back of his car during a hot summer weekend. We thought for sure our tapes were ruined but later found out our dickhead engineer sold our recordings to Poshboy. Those recordings eventually became the brunt of Channel 3's first record. We also just missed getting on a European Tour with the Damned and Motorhead. Ratt Scabies promised us he would take us out with them. Unfortunately I passed out and threw up all over Dave Vanian's favorite Dracula Cape. It also didn't help that the rest of the guys in the band kept calling Mr. Vanian "Skunk Boy".

  Darby Crash's death was not only heartbreaking but marked the end of the Puddy Jr. Band. Punk was officially dead as far as we were concerned. Rico, Fostex and Nick all went on to play in new wave and ska bands while I joined AA and became a devout scientologist. I soon realized what a load of shit El Ron Hubbard was dishing out after getting into a fist fight with John Travolta at The Scientology Celebrity Center.

  I decided there was nothing left for me except suicide- that would be the one great way to solidify my punk rock stardom. Unfortunately, the week I was going to off myself with an overdose of burning sterno, both Wendy O Williams of The Plasmatics and Rozz Williams of Christain Death fame both tragically killed themselves. Seeing as I couldn't compete with their celebrity and my last name wasn't Williams, I decided the only thing to do was reform The Puddy Jr. Band. To my surprise, the rest of the band refused to join unless I started drinking again. Nobody could stand to be around me otherwise. They also demanded that I call them The Punk Rock All Stars as they were sick of me taking all the glory for their hard work.

  The Puddy Jr. Band used to trade songs with all the other big time punk bands. Our upcoming record is a collection of songs from the music we put together back then. Since we didn't know the copywrite laws, we never registered our songs and all those other bands used them first. We, upon the release of our greatest hits package- volume one, reclaim our right to play these songs as they belong to us as much as they belong to you.

Fuck off,

Puddy