I know everyone got freaked out about the whole "6/6/06" number of the beast thing on Tuesday, but to those of us who never matured past age 12 emotionally, today is a much more important day: 6/9. Heh heh. It's like two people are trying to do it, but there's a large piece of sheet metal between them. Hee hee. 6/9.

So for today's Friday Ripoff, I'm going to make the as-yet-unprecedented move of ripping off myself. Backstory: the best writer in New York City happens to be a friend of mine named Mary. Mary's latest online adventure is Ruined Music, a compendium of stories about songs that were ruined by heartbreak/failed relationships/etc. (there's a much more eloquent explanation of the concept hnyaw).

So Mary asked me to contribute to the site and I've always made it a rule to do what Mary tells me to do, so I submitted the following piece (which appears as the second one down on the Ruined Music page):

Dreams of you all through my head
"Black Dog" by Led Zeppelin
by Brendan Boogie

"Hey hey mama, said the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove..."

And then the riff. That guitar riff that will be burned in my cerebral cortex for all eternity. When we were fifteen, my best friend Joe and I came up with the brainstorm to start a rock band with him on guitar and me on bass. I was flat-out terrible - Joe could play circles around me within the first few months, but by the skin of my fingertips, I managed to keep up and we were soon rocking our sophomore year high school talent show (second place behind a group of jocks who re-enacted the Saturday Night Live "Da Bears" skit verbatim. Suburban white kids, man).

In our minds, we were true rock and roll heroes. Joe was turning into a natural on lead guitar; in later years with his band Fooled By April and even up to today, he's simply the most gifted guitar player I've ever seen. Even at that early stage, it was a joy to just listen to him play... until he discovered that riff. "Black Dog" by Led Zeppelin was the first song Joe could play perfectly. This would have been fine, except he chose to play it ALL THE TIME. Between every song at rehearsal, while watching This is Spinal Tap in his basement for the fifty-third time - it was the all "Black Dog" channel. All "Black Dog," all the time.

By the twelve thousandth time he ran through the riff, I'd finally had enough. I unplugged his amp, turned to him and snapped, "For the love of all that is holy, will you please stop playing that fucking riff? Please?"

Of course, Joe responded the way any fifteen-year-old would: without a word, he plugged back in, cranked the volume to 11 and let 'er rip with the most passionate rendition of "Black Dog" since Jimmy Page was snorting blueberry pie filling off a 13-year old girl's pelvis. I hadn't heard anything yet. Now that he knew it annoyed me, Joe played "Black Dog" every spare moment of every day, in every imaginable key, speed, and harmonization. There wasn't silence in my life any more - just "Black Dog." I'll tell you, you haven't wanted to poke your eardrums out with a sharpened chopstick so badly until you've heard the minor-key high-pitched "Chinese" version of "Black Dog" grinding through your brain. It's been almost fifteen years, but when I hear that riff, the muscles in my body still clench involuntarily like I'm about to be in a ten car pile-up. Thanks, Joe - you're a real pal.

Please check out the rest of the Ruined Music site and feel free to send Mary submissions/feedback. Or if you want to tell her how brilliant she is in person, rumor has it that she just might be in attendance at the big show on Sunday at the Knitting Factory in NYC. She's a huge Baker fan. Thinks Scamper is "eh." Scamper goes on at 9.

Have a good weekend, my water-logged rockers.