December 4, 2010
BOB 10:14 AM
Is it 10:14? I don’t know. Really, it’s February of 2012, but nobody cares about that. Back in early December of 2010, I recall that I woke up at some stranger’s house in Baltimore and then I sashayed through the cold sunlight to find the car. Hey look, I just noticed that we have right here a video and photo that might explain in images and sound what I just wrote with words. I’m not even gonna watch it and see. So, find out for yourself, if you want.
After that adventure, I embarked on another and drove across the city to retrieve Chad from his #1 fan’s house. Fan/gal lived in the nether regions of Baltimore and when Chad finally emerged from her compound, he was beset with soon-to-be flotsam and jetsam in the form of various parting gifts and memorabilia with which Chad will surely put to good use fondly reminiscing of his luxurious one night stay in this fair city. Of this, I am certain.
Then we drove. At some point, we made the following videos:
Hey, Jim James called us. He’s sweet on us for sure.
BOB 6:66 PM
An old film pal of mine hooked us up with a screening locale in Philly. I met Doug Sackman when he worked for Troma several years back. He’s got a pilot for a show called Strip for Pain. Look it up if you don’t believe me.
I’m sure he makes great non-porn movies, so don’t act like I’m trying to pigeon hole the fucker. But I’m also not aiming to bury the lead. Doug makes movies with hard core fucking in them. Specifically, he makes these fucky movies with Joanna Angel and a wet, money-shot of gore. That’s right, he’s a purveyor of fine zombie porn, complete with tons of blood and guts and fucking and sucking. Hell, he even made an Exorcist homage porn with puking and pounding and puking on top of piles of fucking. Savor that flavor, America!
Anyway, he set up tonight’s screening.
We scored two great write-ups. We didn’t land a huge crowd, but the folks who did show up feigned interest real good.
Here’s a hunk of media hype courtesy of the Philadelphia Weekly:
Bob Ray’s Down & Dirty Austin Film Tour
Screenings of acclaimed documentary films are generally more exciting when both director and subject are on the run from the law. Drugs, competitive rodent breeding, bone-crushing violence and gross-out cartoons are standard during Bob Ray’s Down & Dirty Austin Film Tour. First there’s Total Badass, which follows Austin denizen Chad Holt as he deals with a felony probation, selling weed, family drama and the difficulties of raising guinea pigs with his girlfriend. Holt and director Bob Ray will be present for a Q&A. The second feature, Hell on Wheels, also directed by Ray, follows the rebirth of roller derby, the gentlest of sports. There’ll also be animated episodes of the filthy CrashToons between features. Hopefully the evening will end without the stars getting arrested. -Alli Katz
We also got some press from the Philly daily newspaper. It was good. It’s probably online somewhere.
CHAD 7:02 PM
I’ll go ahead and tell you the funniest thing to happen in Philadelphia right here and now. I have this buddy from out there who I know from when he lived here in Austin for several years, but now he’s back out in Philly. When I say “now” he’s back out in Philly, I mean he also lived there over a year ago when I was in town and supposed to be keeping this tour journal. I’m sure plenty of other wonderful things happened in Philadelphia when we were there, but this is the one I remember for sure. I’m going to go ahead and leave old boy nameless, since this isn’t the most flattering story about him, but here’s how it went down. He lives a little bit out of the city with a serious girlfriend, so the plan was that they were going to roll into town, pick up one of his drinking buddies, and head into Fishtown where we were right in time for the movie screening. We’d talked on the phone that day and everything was running smoothly. I got a phone call from him about an hour before the film, but it was a pocket dial. I listened along for a little bit, and could tell that he was in the car with his girl and the friend, driving around the city getting all fucked up before the show. I’d never met the girlfriend or the drinking buddy, mind you, these were just voices in the car, so I’m piecing this all together like some sort of high tech sleuth while I listen along. Eventually I got bored, hung up, and ate a bowl of chef-boyardee that I bought from a vending machine in the breakroom of the little artfag complex we were in there while a dog ate one of Bob’s toenails. (Wasn’t it here that the dog ate your toenail, Bob?) About 30 minutes later, I get another pocket dial from my buddy and I notice things are really starting to reach a fever pitch over on the other end. I could just tell from the sounds and the volume levels and speech patterns and shit, these people were really wasted, and I started to seriously doubt that they were going to make it by showtime. Sure enough, the movie is soon about halfway over with no sign of these folks, but I did get a few more phone calls. By about the fifth one, I pick up and all I hear is the woman screaming, “….dumb son of a bitch! You wrecked my fucking car!” I could tell by the Doppler Effect that everyone was outside the vehicle, running from the scene. The girlfriend was cussing out my buddy, who was all panicked and the friend was just goading him along, telling him to run. Next call I get, they’ve obviously reached shelter somewhere, and my friend is literally in tears, whimpering, taking about, “You never take my side. Why is it always my fault? I just want to go and see…” and homegirl just cuts him off, “I know, I know! You just want to go and see Chad Fucking Holt and his fucking movie because he’s SO fucking important!” I just want to say that, even though I’d never met this girl before, it pleased me to no end to know what a profound effect I had obviously had on her life and relationship with this man just by proxy. You want to know the best part? Obviously they never show up, and the next day I get a text from him, and all it says is, “Sorry man. Girlfriend got all drunk.”
CHAD 3:15 A.M
No, but really, Philadelphia was fun. Doug Sackman really put together a cool deal there for us and took care of us. I got to see my old Rank and Revue buddy Isaac Friese, but John Warner was conspicuously absent. Bob and I partied into the night with Sackman, Friese, this girl Sarah, and a guy named Hector from El Paso. Sarah had teats like a milk sow, this much I know for sure. We could have all nested at her bosom without a runt in the litter.
BOB 3:16 AM
What Chad said. Thanks, Doug. Thanks Sarah. Hector, you were there also.
November 11, 2010
Okay, aside from the post on Day 1, all this other “Bob” portion of the tour journal is a big, stinking pile of time-traveling untruths. I mean, it’s really Day 12 and I’m sitting in the Mid-Manhattan Public Library, spewing lies all over the internet. But if you wanna play along, I’ll just try to write the following entries as if I actually did write then when the date and time-stamp suggest. Game?
11:17 AM, maybe? – BOB:
Um, we woke up or something? I don’t fucking remember and the fact that you expect me to is really pretty dickish on your part. We’ve been working and partying our asses off for 12 straight days. Yeah, I guess I woke up somewhere in Houston and drove all fucking day to New Orleans. That shit felt like it was three months ago…
Okay, new idea. I’m gonna let Chad’s writing carry the load for this first leg. I know y’all are disappointed, what with my humor and wit giving this blog all its energy and flavor. But I’ve been doing all the driving again, just booked the last two dates (while driving, mind you) and am still, on a daily basis, dealing w/ posters, merch, partying, press, derbies, cinemas, and driving from 4-11 hours.
But here are the pics and vids I too several days ago:
Chomped some pork-n-slaw.
Stumbled around New Orleans like a drunken pirate.
In New Orleans
It’s romantic here.
Chad and Sara SlowDance…
Pickle in a Pouch
Crashed on a fold-out bed. Not bad.
And now, take it away Chad:
6:53 PM – CHAD:
Right now, I feel like we might as well turn around and go right the fuck back home. We had our chance… History was right there at our fingertips. This had the potential for one of the greatest trips of all times and it was all going to start with an art exhibit that was going on at Delgado Community College when we pulled up in New Orleans. Granted, Bob and I aren’t exactly patrons of the fine arts, but it just so happened that the first “older woman” that I ever dated (way back when I was 23 years old and she was younger than I am right now as we speak) lives in New Orleans and invited us to an art opening that her sister was in. At said opening, there was an interactive display where this chinaman (I only call him a chinaman because I got the impression that one of the points of his exhibit was to bring out some kind of repressed hatred and subjugation of orientals that lies dormant in all barbarians such as myself but I’m not one to judge, just let me explain what he was doing and you make up your own mind) would sit you down at a table, prepare you a bowl of Chef Boyardee Raviolis while dressed up “Hop Sing” style up to and including bare feet and then when you were finished, he would eat whatever you didn’t and proceed to lick your plate clean. Bob and I were the very next people in line for this when he abruptly packed his shit up and went home. I can’t help but feel like if only Bob and I had gotten there a little bit sooner… If only we had been moving a little faster and without pills, for instance… then we would have gotten this whole ordeal on tape and been propelled into tour journal stardom. Our tragedy was a real life example of the “butterfly effect” that Confucius himself would have been proud of.
7:45 PM – CHAD:
Despite the hardships we encountered in the early goings of our trip to The Big Easy, my luck actually took a turn for the better, as evidenced in the following:
11:13 PM – CHAD:
Eventually, we hooked up with “Vogue” (Vouge. Let your body move to the music. Move to the music.) who some of you may remember from her reign of terror back in Austin and she took us down near The French Quarter in the “Snug Harbor” area of town. Well, the harbor got very snug very quickly about 3 minutes after we parked and another old friend from Austin recognized me on the street and gave us free drinks from the bar she worked at all night. I forget the name of the place… Here’s what little I did catch before then:
July 23, 2010
Checked out a lot of Seattle today… Had Lake Jackson’s own Burgandy Viscosi show me around in the daytime:
I loved walking around in Seattle. Feel free to look at this girl I filmed playing the fiddle in the street. I think they call them “violins” up here. The fiddles, I mean…
Burgandy turned me on to this badass bar in Belltown called Shorty’s. They have a shitload of pinball in there, and I’ve filmed all the machines for the Jim Isaacsses and Adam Reposas of the world, not to mention the Scott Fondrens and Mike Marquardtses.
Then, that night, it was more partying up in Ballard with Heidi and her friends. Here are The Basements doing a song at a place called The Tractor, where Austin’s own Lauren Fogel used to work. They still talk about her up here…
The drugs were supposed to be removed from the car. Chad’s dirtweed was supposed to go with Chad. My sweet leaf was supposed to be dumped at my Seattle crash-pad. That was the plan. When a doper like Chad rides shotgun, you never really know what kinda drugs can fall off of him like a landslide of dandruff and end up scattered all over the crevices of the vehicle. Shit tends to migrate on a road trip. That’s the fear. A cleanse was had, but is it enough. Where the fuck did that pill roll off too? Was there a joint that went astray? Let’s find out. Hello Canadian border. Hello thorough inspection of every inch of the car and its contents.
And they gave it their best shot. They tore through my shit like a tornado raping a trailer park. Fucking every inch of it.
But someone forgot to tell the Mounties that the drugs were back in the states. So once they finished tearing the car apart in search of the mind huggers, they proceeded to prod my every nook and cranny. I guess I finally got that anal probing the Roswell promised but never delivered on. Thanks, Canada.
Speaking of, did I already mention that I got laid before Chad did on this road trip?
But back to Canada: the fucker doing the searching was bummed that he came up empty handed. So he decided to lecture me about the little note in the merch case. The note that pleads for “Tips, Gas Money & Drugs.”
At one point Canadian bacon/cop grilled me about smoking weed “it’s okay of you do, but did you bring any?” Followed by a long pause and the hairy eyeball as he attempted to break me with his twitchy gaze.
No dice. The fucker was diceless. So I made it to Vancouver. And holy shit, the Vancouver screening was killer. Terminal City Rollergirls showed up! Check out the line:
And dig this huge-ass crowd:
The Q&A was kick ass. And I’ve been commissioned by Terminal City Rollergirls with a message to relay to the derby gals in Victoria: hey, Eves of Destruction Roller Derby, the Terminal City Rollergirls think that their team, the Faster Pussycats, will be whipping up on you in an upcoming bout. So what do ya think of that?
Speaking of, super-big thanks to the Terminal City Rollergirls and to Alex, Chris Coralline and Alicia at the Rio. They are a killer bunch and plied me with beer and love.
Here are some clips from the drive to and my time in Vancouver:
A big thanks to Kat of The Treasure Valley Rollergirls and her family for letting us stay with them here in Boise. When we got up this morning, the dog was watching television. Seriously… The TV was on animal planet and the dog was totally fucking watching it, freaking out on other dogs. I got it on video, see:
Not that any of this topped a dog watching television, but I did spend about three hours walking around downtown Boise, and it fucking rules. The nightlife was pretty happening last night, too. Here are some videos of the state capitol building, and then I filmed an Idaho State Police car. It was probably the coolest police car I’ve ever seen…And I’ve seen a lot of them.
Double-up on the ditto Chad done said, and a big thanks to Kat and her fam for the sweet, sweet hospitality. The triptych of couches served us well. Even when the pooches needed a snuggle. We hit the road for another 8+ hour drive. Despite the declaration of no more getting lost, we got lost on step one right off Kat’s porch. But we managed to overcome and found the interstate.
Rest stop: (see big blue piss box on the right)
We saw several burnt-up patches of grass and a few tires. The second vid was cool as we drove right through the smoke at 8Omph. But the battery died before we got there, so just take a huge bong hit, blow out a puff of smoke and run through it at top speed and you’ll get the proper effect.
These 8+ hour drives are getting routine at this point. Except this time we’re cruising through the Washington mountains and we’re about to run out of gas. No shit. In a Prius and about to run out of gas. Nice, huh? Let’s see how it panned out:
Originally, I was going to ride into Seattle today with Bob and then take a bus down to Portland so I can wait for him there while he does the Canada shows, seeing as how I’m not allowed into Canada. Well, it occurred to me that this might be the only chance I ever have to see Seattle, but I really don’t have anywhere to stay here. I got on the phone with friends down in Austin in a panic and asked them if they know anyone here whose house I could crash at for a couple days while I checked out the city. I was referred to a girl, Heidi, who might let me stay at her place. I say “might” as though I don’t know yet, because I’m pretending to have typed this days ago when actually I have already been in Seattle and Portland both, partying for over a week, and yes I stayed at Heidi’s house for about five fucking days, thank you very much, dear. Oh yeah, we went completely apeshit, too and here’s some video from my first night in Seattle:
I spent most of my Seattle nightlife up north in Ballard, where Heidi owns a bar and frequents about twenty others. They have a badass strip of bars up here, and I’ve met a lot of nice people and seen a bunch of shows. The above clip was Kaleb Hagan-Kerr doing an improvised little ditty in the back of Hattie’s Hat.2:21 AM
Okay, we got lost a few more times, minor affairs. Before landing in my Seattle destination, I dumped Chad off. He found a gal to crash on. Or a couch. I’m not sure which. I’m not usually one to brag, but fuck it: what I am sure of is that I did get laid before Chad did on this tour. So suck on that!
Okay, so don’t flip. Everything’s cool. I didn’t ditch Chad. The thought crossed my mind. Chad and I had to part ways cuz the fucker ain’t allowed into Canada on account of him being a convicted felon and shit. And, there are a handful of Hell on Wheels only screenings coming up: Bellingham, Tacoma & Port Orchard and one more double header in the forbidden land of Victoria, Canada. But we’ll meet back up when we screen in Portland on the 29th and be a two-headed bastard again through the rest of the tour.
Despite his rep and a few annoying habits, Chad’s a dam-fine travel companion. I mean, except the part where he has a suspended license and can’t drive so he’s effectively dead weight half of the time. But he means well and leaves very little damage in his wake, so it’s mostly pleasant or maybe tolerable.
Here’s a vid from inside Seattle. I think I’ve played a race car video game where I drove through these:
Our new doc, TOTAL BADASS is getting some love. www.TotalBadassTheMovie.com
An insanely funny and wickedly debaucherous new documentary about crime, sex, art, drugs, music and life in the Austin underground.
TOTAL BADASS is the Texas tale of a hilarious, crazy-ass writer/publisher/singer/weed-dealer/sex addict/Guinea pig enthusiast/dad/pirate radio host/raconteur and general man-about-town as he rides out the last six months of felony probation and, ultimately, must change his ways when a financial crisis befalls his estranged family.
“(Total Badass) is a rough film, and that’s a good thing: Holt comes across like a lost John Waters’ collaborator, or like a real-life version of Nicolas Cage in Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans.”
“Holt is a modern day Texas punk rock version of a Kerouac character; speeding through life on whatever fuels him in a non-stop flurry of writing, drug dealing, singing, stage diving, love making, and guinea pig raising.”
from Houston Press:
Austin’s Indie Guru delivers a doc about drugs, sex and Chad Holt: Drugs, Sex and the Austin Underground
The ultimate slacker filmmaker just might be Austin’s Bob Ray, responsible for the indie productions “Hell on Wheels,” about women’s roller derby, and “Rock Opera,” a weed-infused little goodie about the Austin rocker scene. He’s also been at the helm of numerous animations and good-time music videos, such as “Platypus Rex’s Clone Whores” and “Night of the Kung Fu Zombie Bastards from Hell!” Anyone with a High Times magazine nomination for Best Stoner Film is alright by us.
Ray and his CrashCam Films are always a highlight at the prestigious SXSW festival, and his latest cinematic adventure to screen at the fest is “Total Badass: A Film by Bob Ray about the Life and Times of Chad Holt.” We quote from the film’s web page: “an insanely funny and wickedly debaucherous new documentary about crime, sex, drugs, music and life in the Austin underground.” (They had us at “insanely.”)
-D.L. Groover, Houston Press