Cabo San Halen

Read my amazing new book, bro

Wawaouwaborita! Hey hey hey! Hammy Swagar here, getting fired up for an extra-special Midwest-America-fans-only reading from my new rock-u-biography Blue: My Life as a Censored Rock Star Totally Ruined by Livin’ in the Shadow of a Dude Who Wears Spandex Leopard-Print Butt Chaps Over Thongs. Getting’ ready by drinkin’ some of my own special primo tequila, bro, made from only the most primo agave. Me-hi-co! Woooo!

That spandex wearing mo-fo Diamond Lee Toth is gonna be joining me onstage for an epic ROCK session—hey, they say to keep yer enemies close. Toth is getting all fancy-toed next to me here, talking about the runnin’ with the devil and weed and limos with Jacuzzis in the trunk, and how he’s just a gigolo or something and offering me massages. And I’m just like, hey buddy, pour me MAS TEQUILA. I ain’t driving tonight—not 55, at least. Yeaaaaaahhhh!

But seriously, let’s get back to my book. I got three words for ya: loud rock, fast cars and Cabo. That about sums it up. A sweet haiku to my life as a true rock and roll ANIMAL! Yow! But hey, all this tequila made me forget I still need to pick out my outfit for my epic reading tonight. Yellow shirt with the yellow sunglasses and neon Jams? Or silky shirt with the margarita—I mean WABORITA—painted all in pastels on the front. Hey, this shirt represents my lifestyle man, my LIFESTYLE. Diamond can run that comb through my sweet poodle ‘do before we take the stage, bro.

So yeah, there’s that chapter where I talk about how that guitarist-who-shall-not-be-named but who does the, yeah I’ll say it, the most RAWKIN’ finger-tappin’ EVER called me a fruitcake, and I’ll tell you about what it was like to be the most premier rockin’ rocker of the rockin’ ’80s, the BLUE KOCKER, yeah, and how it feels to have a thousand hefty blonde chicks flashin’ you from a crowd of millions.

Now Diamond’s getting feisty cuz I keep remindin’ him how after I got in as chief hombre in “Band-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named,” we had four No. 1 albums. FOUR. You know how many they had with that kook? NONE. It don’t matter how many Russians you can do while making kissy face, it’s about raw talent, and I have as much of that as I have tequila flowing in my Mexican hacienda’s waterfalls. But I digress. It’s time to go ROCK the stage. Just like I did back at Fontana High School, before I had this totally natural blonde perm. That’s in the book, too.

A certain red rocker who may or may not resemble portions of this article by Hammy Swagar will be appearing on Saturday, March 26, at Copperfield’s Books. 140 Kentucky St., Petaluma. 7pm. 707.762.0563.