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It was in the family winery on the outskirts of Palermo,
Italy, that John Amore grew up. Inspired by
the wild sounds of American rock and roll artists like Chubby Checker, Lou Christie, and
Paul Anka, little Johnny picked up the bass guitar. The Amore youngster would play
alongside the women stomping grapes, plucking funky riffs while dreaming of America.
In 1962, his dream came true. The Amore Wine Company went bankrupt, his
loving parents having just enough money to send one of their seven children to
this great land of ours. As the huge steamer pulled away from the dock, John waved
at his family one last time, tears streaming down his face onto the sunburst finish of his
Fender Precision Bass. Amore
turned away, and never looked back... |
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The way things were going, it looked like Art Lyzak would never graduate from the
eighth grade. Then, on his fourth try... he did it!!! Lyzak was pretty much a
loner, just sitting around eating potato chips, thinking about where his next bag of chips
was coming from, and listening to his beloved polka records. "POLKA OR
NOTHING!" he would blurt out to no one in particular. This seemed quite profound
to him, even though he had no idea what the word profound meant. In his
second year of eighth grade, he had traded his dictionary for a thirty nine cent bag of
his favorite salty snacks. Ninth grade wasn't going to be a picnic, that was for
sure. Then, in ninth grade,
Art Lyzak met Pasadena... |
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Like most teenagers in early 1964, Pasadena flipped his wig over the Beatles.
But listening to their records, and looking at Beatle magazines wasn't enough.
Young Pasa was troubled. The Dave Clark 5, a rival British invasion band, was
shooting up the charts, threatening to knock the Fab Four from the top of the heap.
And Pasadena didn't like that. He decided that Dave Clark must die! He packed
some clean gotchees and boarded the Joseph Campau bus. "Where ya goin', young
man?" asked the bus driver, noticing the future Mutant's suitcase. "I'm
going to Liverpool to kill Dave Clark," said Pasa. The driver didn't
laugh. He pulled over and called the cops. The thirteen year old Pasadena ended up doing six months in reform
school... |
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Little Tommy Morwatts
was angry. The family television was on the fritz, and there would be no
Alex Trebek tonight. No "Jeopardy" tonight. God damn right he
was angry! Tom closed his eyes and thought about Alex Trebek - the man had
style, the man had grace, he was as suave as Jerry Lubin for Chrissake! But most
importantly, Trebek had all of the answers, and Tom was looking for answers. He
noisily slurped his hot cocoa, lit a cigarette, and picked up his guitar. He started
humming and singing to himself "I
am somebody's bunghole, and I'm no big deal - la la la la la la la la..." |
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"You're gonna burn in hell!"
yelled Father Tostado.
"Oh, no, I'm not!!" replied Dave Uchalik,
running from the altar of Our Lady of Perpetual Guilt. He knew that any sins he had
in his soul were just venial sins, and everybody knew that mortal sins
bought you a one way ticket to hell, not venial sins. David sighed
heavily. He thought being an altar boy would be a lot easier than this, but because
he was an altar boy, lots of girls were hanging around him. And when he
thought about girls, something happened. Dave stared at his palms.... nope, no
hair. And his eyesight was pretty darn good. He ran up the stairs of his
house, into his bedroom and softly shut the door. He was thinking about girls again."Thank God it's only a venial
sin," he said to his hand... |
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In the mid-1960's, Warren, Michigan wasn't the culturally
rich, entertainment Mecca it is today. Back then it was basically just a simple,
people kind of place; one church, one school, one general store - and one tremendous
Safety Boy - Steve Sortor. In the
eleven years he wore the familiar fluorescent orange safety belt, crossing Groesbeck Road
was an absolute breeze. Besides playing chess, young Steve's favorite hobby was
eating pizza. He prided himself on the fact that he always ate at least two slices a
day. On Tuesday, June 22, 1966, Steve walked into Angie O'Plasty's Pizza Parlor to
order a pair of slices. He didn't recognize the skinny kid behind the counter.
The kid with way too much Brylcreem in his hair. "I've never seen you cross
Groesbeck before," Steve said. "Are you new in town?"
"Yes, I am," replied the kid in broken English. "My name ees John Amore..." |
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To be continued... |
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