Mr. Wallbanger, I presume?

I was reading in the newspaper the other day that Dior fired their chief Boy George impersonator, John Galliano, for delivering a pro-Nazi rant in a Paris bar. Although fashion is more the realm of my staff celebrity gossip writer Klams Kardashian, I must applaud them for this move. I can't stand Nazis, and I hate Illinois Nazis. More to the heart of this post, Dior have fulfilled every bartender's dream; getting rid of Galliano.

For those of you who aren't bar savvy, Galliano is an herbal liquor with over thirty flavorings, but to me tastes like a liquorice marshmallow. It is viscous and neon yellow. The bottle is obnoxiously large and hard to place anywhere but the top shelf, where it stands out like Manute Bol (RIP-you are missed) in those old SNL sketches. It is used in cocktails such as the Harvey Wallbanger, the Slow Comfortable Screw Against the Wall, the Harvey Wallbanger, the West Indian Yellowbird (known at here at "The Dog" as the Mongolian Sweatervest), and the Harvey Wallbanger. The bottle is terrible to wield behind a bar, being 2ft long or longer. It is good, however, for smiting enemies and beligerant drunks.

I now present several ideas to help fellow bartenders rid yourselves of this menace;

• Pour it into narrow shot glasses or pousse cafe glasses (does anyone have those?) and float Jagermeister over it. Call it the "Maahhchand" and sell it to Bruins fans after games! (or Steelers fans, or Latin Kings, or Wiz Khalifa, or anyone else who likes black and yellow/gold)
• "Oh, you said mojito? I could have sworn you said Harvey Wallbanger. I'll just add it to your tab.." (rinse and repeat)
• Write in the snow in front of your snooty neighbor's house, preferably something like "Stop putting me in those stupid sweaters! I'm a frickin' dog!"
• Pour it into tiny glasses and float cream on top. Wait, that's actually a good idea. Elf-beer! (Keebler, not Legolas)
• Empty it into the toilet and say, "Man! Was I dehydrated!"
• Pour it into one of those ubiquitous creme de banana bottles that no one admits to having ordered and yet a new one appears every year.
• Apply it to the underarm area of your roommate's undershirts if he drinks your last PBR tallboy.
• Pour it into Chickalob Ultra to give it a more "beer-like" appearance!
• Apply it to a snowball, then eat it in the middle of Fanueil Hall.

I hope that I have motivated you to rid yourselves of this liquor in a fun and exciting fashion (ahem). Perhaps our children, perhaps their children, will live in a world where Galliano is relegated to Italian restaurants where it belongs instead of every bar in America. Drink a Harvey Wallbanger, if not for yourself than for the U S A, U S A, U S A! (or whatever country in which you happen to reside) Goodnight, and stay away from Nazis dressed like the female keyboard player from Prince and the Revolution.

Badfingers and a Pina Colada




Last month I gave a list of band names that I found lacking and attempted to explain why, rather than just being subjective. Of course this is always a divisive subject as there is no hard and fast rule to naming a band, and some of my favorite bands have names that I don't like. However one band name that I foolishly missed may be the ultimate proof of a bad name cursing a good band. (All specific info regarding Badfinger comes from an AllMusicReview article by Bruce Eder, Rovi)

The band Badfinger were never able to become the mega rich superstars that critics thought they should have been, despite scoring two huge hits in the early 70's with "Baby Blue" and "Day After Day". The Beatles were their biggest fans for Chrissakes! Growing up I always assumed that "Day After Day" was a Beatles track, and why not? Everybody I knew did as well, except for the people who thought it was Wings or Paul solo. Still, things never seem to go right with them, to the point where two members hung themselves (separately, and in desperation, not in some weird kinky way).

"But plenty of bands with bad names become hugely successful!" you say. You are correct. I posit that something about the specific way Badfinger is a terrible name somehow cursed them, subconsciously stacked the deck against them. For instance, to paraphrase George Costanza, think of the word "manure". Most people think of manure as a bad word, but if you break it down phonetically, it is "ma", a good word, and "newer", another good word.

Now apply the "Costanza Method" to Badfinger. We then get "bad", which is bad (except for a strange period in the late 80's, when it was good) and "finger", which has many unpleasant overtones in the modern world. When you put them together, the result is worse than the some of its parts. I believe that they would have fared better if they were named Manure. I can't believe I just wrote that.

A coworker who was there for the debate which led to "This is my sidekick, Mr. Mister", overheard my thinking aloud and rebutted thusly;

"But what about Vanilla Fudge? People loved them!"

To which I responded;

"Vanilla Fudge is an awful name, but in the Psychedelic scene awful adjective/noun names were forgiven, nay, encouraged! Badfinger sounds like something you don't want in your proximity. You would say 'Get away from me with that Badfinger!' but never 'Get away from me with that Vanilla Fudge!' It would be more like 'Bring that Vanilla Fudge over here, already!'"

I believe that the reason we never knew Badfinger growing up was that nobody wanted to say the words, especially around children. While I was not a twinkle in my parents' eyes when Badfinger hit their stride, I cannot help but think this was a case of a name affecting the fate of a band, somehow offending Fate or at least the Gods of Rock. Please send all band name ideas to me first, or this might happen to you. Good night, sleep tight, don't let the Badfingers touch.