The recent invocation of legendary San Diego scenester Bobo reminded me that Bruce Haemmerle donated an extremely valuable curio to the Che Underground collection: recto and verso scans of an actual invitation to BoboStock, Dec. 22, 1982, which featured what eyewitnesses say was a definitive performance by the Answers.
While my own association with the band didn’t begin until March 1983 at the Che Cafe, this event lingered in Bobo hagiography for many years. Here’s an opportunity to amass recollections about the man and the music that shaped a generation.
BOOP PENGUIN POOCHIE
priceless…
Thanks for evoking his actual name, P.W.
A perfect summary. I hope we can find him.
http://www.myspace.com/yogurthlala
Thanks for the link, Toby. I added him (and you) yesterday. Glad to see he’s doing well in Florida and has a cool little family. That really got me thinking about how many of us are mothers and fathers now. My own son has in many ways been my salvation.
Thanks for adding me. For some reason I thought we were already added, but you may have fallen victim to “THE GREAT PURGE OF NOVEMBER 07” always to be remembered (by myself only) as a melodramatic and confusing historical myspace time. I’ve also comitted Myspace suicide several times. So if I disappear- don’t fret- I’ll rise again like Lazarus from the grave, ready to add friends and post stupid quizzes at the drop of a hat.
Actually I get disgusted all of the time and try to play god on myspace, erasing anyone and everyone who stands in my way in my quest for ether world domination!!!! (Or just people who slighted me by not responding immediately- like ten minutes- it’s an obsessive compulsive, instant gratification thing. Freud would have a field day. It’s actually fun and a little liberating- like burning the wings off of bugs with a magnifying glass.)
I have the boy’s number, and will be speaking with him manana. Twenty years passed like a blink of an eye.
Had the good fortune to get to speak to the Bobo-Cricket this morning for 36 minutes and 41 seconds. I’m very happy to say that he sounds lucid and terribly happy, enjoys his job and likes to drive ungodly speeds on his motorcycle to get to work in the wee hours of the morning.
I definitely see a reunion in the future somewhere between Malaria Pink Flamingo Florida and Ice Ridden Dog the Mullet Hunter Outer Islands Hawaii, and we will undoubtedly commit crimes against propriety that make Jackass look like a cub scout soap box derby race.
It was very good to hear your voice, my friend, and to find you healthy and happy.
Best prompt for a new discussion ever:
“He got a LOT of ribbing from the Mission Hills and PB boys for being overweight.”
Lets see where those quality individuals are now, and how they got there.
Bobo was a great guy. I remember well the first time I met him. One night him and Jeff Lucas and I were stuck in the middle of nowhere somewhere in the back of a van. I couldn’t sleep, so I was sitting there smoking cigarettes and I accidentally lit Bobo on fire. He was so cool about it, all he said “no problem man”. That made a really good impression on me.
Bobo almost killed me one time, accidentally. He was in an angsty depression on Sunset Cliffs, listening to the same song over and over (I want to say “The Sounds of Silence”). A couple of us went to check on him, and he was so filled with the love of humanity that he grabbed the nearest one--meself--spun me, and hurled me free of his loving embrace. I wondered as I flew if I had gone over the cliff, then landed happily in iceplant.
I don’t know if I’m authorized to post here… I don’t know if any of you’ll remember me, but I remember a lot of you. Reading here for a few hours has been amazing, like chatting calmly with a bunch of guests and finding out that everything with them is really OK.
Like Woody sez, take it easy but take it.
GHOSTS. Meant to say ghosts in last post. Not guests. Ghosts. Stupid cat made me type wrong.
Guests in the machine!