DererBand

DererBand played in the czech rock bar Na Slamniku on Monday, 10.12.2008.
DererBand still doesn't have a percussionist, but does have a dancer.
That's very good.


DererBand plays around one hour. Those songs are fairly funny, sound like mix of James Blunt, Madonna and Motorhead. But it's mix of Derer, Mandelik(guitar) and Mach.

The crowd were by the bar, and other people dancing.

We kept in mind the importance of the DATE so we performed our best. best. dot.

If we rip the text apart, we get over Challenge Yourself never be me up to the catchiest refrain: Esta nuestra calle, no venderan, Esta nuestra calle, no pasaran.

Our aggressive, no-compromise attitude made DererBand one of the instigators of the developing CZ pub rock scene, but our idiosyncratic approach rarely follows any single musical genre with the group exploring a variety of musical styles including electro, latin, punk rock, gothic rock, and new wave through to the pop

From Charlie, water blue eyes and big belly up to poetic Had to kill her.

From Mexico city, band will take us through the jungle by it's dead percussion up to Argentina, where everybody has got Camisa negra with Honey.

Honey is made of an old stupid rhyme honey-money, which is propably still an expression for a sense of life for someone. Yes.dot.

Funny man, underlined by it's apparent absurdity and a genre obscurity, would set out on the trip to rape Little girls into Czech republic.

Meditative Road can't save a total crash of the decadence.

Only if everybody would sing Challenger, sandwiches and bitches...



http://www.myspace.com/httpwwwmyspacecom141961631

Letters from Ireland

My dear, I've been writing these notes during my journey to make the best of the flight from Prague to Dublin.
And than I´ve continued writing too...
I always write a diary, maybe once I become a novel writer!
My visit to the country of patriots is not accidental. Certainly you remember, my dear,when we talked about patriotism and love for a nation.
An when I said the Irish whiskey is the best.


I don't drink Irish whiskey, rather I do sympathize with these people. Nation who loudly and clearly voted against European euthanasy & anarchy.
Against demons of a new dictate of social para-intellectuals.
I love these folks who love that whiskey.
I feel like one of them.
But, that's enough...

I met the prime minister yesterday. I've asked him whether he plays tennis.
He answered NO, but complained about his nickname.
My dear, I've got no clue of what does that mean...BIFFO. (big,ignorant, f...er,from Offaly)
But I told him I feel to be a Biffo too.
Perhaps it means... irish dissident, and I feel like such a dissident too!
Than he said some call him also Gruffalo.(grumpy, rude, uncensored, f...er,from, around,Laois, Offaly)

I delighted him saying I fell to be a Gruffalo too.

Than I lost interest. I told him I lost interest to talk to him, because he said he lost interest to talk to me before.
I called my old buddy from Russia, Declan, remember...?

I know him a long time, he is an excellent fellow. We met first when he funded the biggest lumbering company in Russia.
Already by that time I enjoyed him telling smart about his love for Russians and their forests.
It's impressive he also makes a great business with American army. He made more than 200MUSD like that!
Consider this, my dear!

We could buy our own castle for such a cash!

He is a real dissident and I will always join such a dissidents.

I am drawing to a close...

Ahhh, I am tired of being alone in my battle.

But don't worry, my dear.

I WILL NEVER SURRENDER!

In a swimming pool shower room.

In a gloomy brightness of tile walls of the biggest Prague swimming pool...

Bodies
Young, old, fat, slim, dark, nut brown or white.
Noise of showers echoes from the bodies and penetrates into bones.


Man sits in front of steambath and reads a newspaper. Other man staggers around and gabbles inapprehensible words.

A snake start crawling on the ground tiles. It's not a snake, but a water hose used by a maintenance man.

All of the sudden, water starts spraying from the snake body.

I move a bit away.

Water sprays the newspaper, but man keeps reading.

A maintenance man arrives. He cleans up his glasses and check the problem. Somehow, he is not able to fix it. Water sprays all around.

Propably some sealing...

I observe carefully, what's going to happen.

All of the sudden, the man stand up and screams: "FUCK!" In the very same moment he throws the hose wildely towards the tile floor.
Water sprays up to the ceiling.

Man with newspaper keep reading. Water is turning paper wet.

The hose starts sweeping around like a monster. Spit out water all around.

Allways the same, the inferno comes.

Maintenance man lean down to the monster. Immediatelly, he's drenched throug. He sees nothing as the monster managed to sweep over his glasses.

He grabs the monster, throws it wildely towards the tile floor and shouts: "FUCK"

Man with the newspaper rise his eyebrow. He's got his news dead drenched.

Other man goes by and gabbles. I hear a word "genitals..." He's got huge red wounds on his back.

Somebody stand right beside me and observe monster and maintenance man wrestling. Monster-snake winning...

"Fun house" he breathes out and leaves.

I move towards the showers. Someone beside me vocalize sounds like a wild boar.
He soap himself, than lies down and start tossing himself around and grunting.

I check what's up with the monster.

Totaly drenched maintenance man explains to the man with the newspaper he needs sealing.

Man looks at him with an amazement.

Water is all over.

Wild boar on the ground keeps tossing himslef over the tile floor and than shout out: "FUCK!" The shout echoes from the tile walls like a thunderstroke
with no chance to stab anywhere.
I move to drier room.

A man stands ahead of drier and pounds his head at the wall.He keeps gabbling work "genitals."

Warm wind.

Man comes and look at my eyes.

"Haven't you seen my bag, have you?"

I look at him.

Sadly, he sinks his eyes and leaves.

Some kind of mugging

A figure jumped from the cliff. It was a man and he had a knife. He had a big advantage because we were in slow-mo but he was as fast as lightening.
Suddenly, John had the knife at his throat.

I glanced at the cliff, the woman, who was there just few seconds ago was gone, and instead there was a man. I felt time swirling all around me.
“I’m nuts, I’ll kill you!” shouted the man with the knife. Other than that, he wore just a pair of dirty boxers.
“I must be nuts,” I said unintentionally.
“I don’t care about nothing!”
I saw the knife on John’s throat, so I began handing over my things. I didn’t feel sorry for them at all. I was curious what would come next. John handed over his backpack.
Suddenly, another man showed up and told us not to make any stupid moves, otherwise he’d kill us. I had no desire to make any such moves, so everything was just dandy.
“Just to get some chow,” said the Robin Hood as he gave me back my credit cards and IDs.
“Hey, gimme back by backpack,” said John. Jesus fucking Christ, John, this is no joke, it’s a mugging, I was mumbling quietly to myself. To my surprise, Robin Hood grabbed the backpack and gave it back to John.
“So, gringos, this time you get off pretty cheap, but next time…!!” warned Robin Hood. He took the cash and disappeared. Where, I have no idea. He just suddenly wasn’t there. The same with the other man.
We looked at each other and time was once again running at normal speed.
“Did you see that? What was it?”
“Some kind of mugging, I guess.”
We were a few dollars lighter but otherwise nothing. Not even a scratch.
“Goddamnit, we should have fought,” I thought for a moment.
“Fuck no, it’s not worth it.”
“That’s true, but… uhh,” some fucking stupid pride was emerging in me, everybody’s a general after the battle.
And than...,we decided to go drinking in Salvador, one of those best places to have a fun in Brasil.

Homeless

I spotted a homeless guy bothering some older tourists on the beach.
Why the fuck is he bothering them, I think I’ll tell him to leave them alone… idiot…
he’s as dirty as a pig.
“You’re as dirty as a pig,” I heard next to me.

The kiosk man was passing me my beer.
“Yes, I know, thanks!” I took the beer and checked myself. I tried to clean it but it wasn’t really working. Meanwhile, the homeless dude had begun bothering some other people, they were sitting next to me, talking. Shit, in a few moments he’ll get to me, I should get going…
“You want another one, son?” Again, I didn’t catch how he exactly called me.
“Yeah.”
The homeless man was looking in my direction, he was hardly standing, had a huge shit spot on the back of his pants, and it looked like he hadn’t taken a shower for at least a couple years.
He was skinny but his arms were full of scars and muscles. He came up to me…
“How ya doin’, all right?”
“Sure,” I cracked open the beer can and took a swig.
“Can I have some, I’m thirsty…” I glanced at the can and then his mouth, which reeked.
“Of course, have some…” I gave him the can.
“Hey, amigo, gimme another one,” you old, gray idiot, I thought to myself.
“Here it is, son…” I was looking at him, he was looking at me. I grabbed the new can and opened it. I was losing the last remains of my strength, so I drank it down in one gulp. Without any other words I promptly received another one. Everything was starting to look much better.
“So you fight, huh?” the homeless man asked. I contemplated the question for a moment and then truthfully answered yes. He began doing steps and thrusts in front of me. He told me that he used to teach Kung Fu. Years of drinking hadn’t robbed him of it, even at this stage he still had the MOVES.
He sat down next to me and said:
“When I was a boy, I spotted a girl from a neighboring village, beautiful as a picture.”
Shit, now he’ll start telling me the story of his life.
“I went to see her and told her she was beautiful. It was about a hundred miles from here, up in the mountains. Back then, I was living with my seven brothers in a three by ten feet brick hut, in the middle of the jungle. When I returned, everybody was laughing at me. I lay down in the corner, rolled myself up into a ball, and fell asleep. I was happy. The next day, when I saw her, she smiled at me.
I was happy, she was thirteen, I was fifteen. I went to see her again and asked her if she wanted me. She smiled and said yes. I went to see her dad in a village nearby and told him I wanted his daughter.
He told me I had to be nice to her. And from that time we lived together.
I’d work in the forest, teach Kung Fu, which I learned from books, in the evenings, and come home late. We were happy. When I’d come home late at night, she’d always smile at me, stroke my cheeks, and sing me beautiful songs.
She always had dinner ready, even when bad times came and there was nothing to eat and hunger was everywhere. I’d buy her beads in the market behind the village, and sometimes I even ventured to the city, to get dishes, fans for her dresses, and parrot feathers just for decoration. Then, one day, I came home and she told me not to be angry but that she had a headache and couldn’t be with me.
After that she had headaches more and more often, pretty much all the time when I got home she had one, but she’d take a pill and it’d go away. I was begging her to see a doctor, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She said the pills helped ease the pain.”
He looked at me and said: “You know, I lost what I loved the most in life.”
I was fixated on him.
“She died three years ago, I lost the thing I loved the most in life.”
He gave me a long stare once more then walked away.
I felt bad… what kind of prick am I, I had wanted to tell him to stop bothering some fucking stupid tourists…
I had one more beer to collect some strength and went home. That night I was really tired but couldn’t fall asleep. I finally fell asleep in the morning when the birds were already singing.
They kept singing the same song over and over again. So, I eventually got up, made myself a cup of coffee and watched the lake and mountains from our balcony. The rowers were already out on the lake, again.
They always are.
The sky was dark blue, as blue as it could be, the bright white statue of Jesus against the blue sky and on top of the dark wooded hill looking like the greatest kitsch picture one could imagine.

Czech nazi

"Jake almost got beat up last night"
"Why?"
"Around thirty nazis assaulted them...they all had weapons."
"And guys?"
"They were all five, Bon got beat up...nazis chase them down to the city center, had beaten them in a tram, nobody said nothing, they said that to policemen, they hadn't done nothing...
I talk to my wife across the whole world about this shit. And than I thought, what is the Czech nazi all about.


"Czech nazi is a brave man, who is able to raid on few "something to think of" guys, when he fancy to mill. Important is number of nazis to be higher than number of victims.

"Czech nazi is a motherfucker, who runs off if he would have to stand off face to face to someone and explain him, by his own words, what does he mean by being nazi.
That is to say, that he doesn't own anything like "own words."

Czech nazi-motherfucker is a cop, who is happy, that other Czech nazi-motherfucker does his national and racial job they way he would like to do it, but can't.

Czech nazi is a slime, who says, that Czech gypsies were happy in the concentration camp Lety(during 2WW), as a matter of fact it was recreation camp.
Those who were unsatisfied down there suffered plague and that is why entire society led by Czech collaborationists and German invaders had to protect itself.

Czech nazi underline the matter of national interests. But, if tanks arrive either from East or West, he starts crying and jumps up on the first one he spots and join himself immediately to the invaders.
The worst what could happen is him jumping by an accident on a Czech tank.

Czech nazi is a Czech patriot - that's why he admires Adolf Hitler.

Czech nazi likes arms and violence. When someone use the same against him...so he begins to cry.

Czech nazi would love to stand up on the Gibraltar rock and shoot down the people who swim over the strait. It sounds OK to him, because we have to defend our nation.
The problem is that he has never been out behind the Czech boarder so he can't orientate himself and moreover he doesn't know, where the Gibraltar is. Neither does he know, what it is.

On the other side, Czech nazi knows everything. Knows, that the black man comes from a monkey whereas white man comes from a white man.He knows it, because it's that way.

Czech nazi will seriously tell you that the Czech national flag reflects a Jewish symbol and it's absolutely necessary to fix it up.
As a proof he submits Main Kampf and Daniken's bullshit about extraterrestrians.

Czech nazi roll himself into the Czech national flag and set off for a street. He's proud of being a Czech citizen and makes himself up by shouting loud "Who doesn't jump is not a CZECH."
Than he jumps.

Czech nazi is also a dirt eater, who will never help anyone. When he sees a group of people beating someone, than he won't help, neither he will call police, better he calls his girfriend and says: "Immagine, honey, I just saw group of people beating someone badly bleeding."
And she would say: "Hope, you didn't interfere with anything!!"

Czech fine artists

I don’t know why, but the CZECH FINE ARTISTS came to mind.
It´s some three years ago now I was in a bar with a man from the consulate. He was complaining that some stupid painters were coming from Czech to do an exhibition in Lidice(little brazilian village named the same as the czech one burned down to the ground by the nazis), and sent him a message to find paints for them. He said he couldn’t find exactly what they wanted, so he was wasting a lot of time and therefore had to catch up with his regular work at night because the operation of the entire office relied on him.

When I went for a beer with him a week later, he was holding his head because he still hadn’t found the paints they wanted.
Yet after another week I dined with the Czech consul and was told that the CZECH FINE ARTISTS had already arrived. Instead of saying "hi" to the man who eventually found the paints for them, they said they wanted to go to the waterfalls, requested that he find them plane tickets and also buy them some canvas and brushes because they didn’t bring any. Others, who were pouring out of the plane, yelled at him to arrange a trip to the capital.
Meanwhile, the entire population of Lidice including its mayor was waiting for them. The village had been getting ready for the happening for months.
The CZECH FINE ARTISTS divided into two groups. One group went to the waterfalls, the other to the capital. The Czech consul went to Lidice to smooth out the whole situation.
Two more weeks passed by, during which I didn’t pay much attention to the affair, even though I had heard some petty complains from the consulate people that the CZECH FINE ARTISTS were not willing to walk but had to have constantly at their disposition a car with a driver, and a bunch of other stupid bullshit.
I didn’t like what I was hearing but it still didn’t touch me personally. Until last week, when I went to see the closing private viewing of the CZECH FINE ARTISTS.
I entered the room where the exhibit was taking place, and I saw them right away: cells on their belts, American style goatees, grizzled hair, copulators…
They have exhibits around the entire world, George’s successful in Germany, Fanny ‘likes girls and they like him,’ Jesus Christ, what a bunch of fucking assholes, I was still mumbling to myself even now just thinking about them.
The MAIN CZECH FINE ARTIST took the floor then.
“I would like to thank the ambassador, the consulate, the ministry of foreign affairs… the company Toys of our Boys, Bruno who sells hot dogs and salami, and others and others, for example the firm Fabric and Stitches… thanks to whom we were able to take this trip.”
The interpreter couldn’t believe her eyes, or ears.
“I would like to also say right in the beginning that our journey was one big success.” This time it was me who couldn’t believe his eyes when looking at the painted pieces of shit hanging on the walls.
“Now, I would like to solemnly announce that each of us, the CZECH FINE ARTISTS, have decided to donate for free two of his works to the village of LIDICE. THE VALUE OF EACH PAIR IS, JUST OUT OF CURIOSITY, HMMM, MHHH, fifty thousand reals.
I dropped my fucking jaw. The air left my lungs and nothing else was coming in. The audience was staring on the daubs on the wall, then the applause came.
My eyes were roaming from the painters to their pictures and back. IT CAN’T BE POSSIBLE, HOW THE FUCK DID THESE FUCKING ASSHOLES COME UP WITH THAT PRICE!!!!
One can buy a house with a garden for fifty thousand reals in this country…
“We were on TV already three times and twice in the newspaper,” I heard somebody talking big.
I left. I COULDN’T STAND IT ONE MORE MINUTE! I was trembling in fury! I ran out of the building, people were turning to see what was going on. I felt a sharp pain by my heart. Breath deep, breath deep, I told myself when running out.
It was midnight, I went to the beach, where the Czech newspapers say there is always some shooting going on. I sat down on the sand and watched the waves. I felt I might start crying.
Eight or ten fucking assholes went on a trip paid by the government and this is how they conduct themselves. I couldn’t believe such things were possible.