Rocklahoma 2009 Pt II w/ Jackyl, Faster Pussycat, Kix, Stryper & more

Enter Part II of our travails in search of a bygone era in the woods of Oklahoma.

Rocklahoma 2009 w/ Jackyl, Kix, Faster Pussycat & more - July 11th - Fairgrounds - Pryor, OK

How this was allowed to take place in the middle of July with heat advisories in the upper tier is reflective of not only legislation in Oklahoma but it's general common sense. And here we were here too, but cocooned in AC isolation.
No matter how spoiled we were we started to get cabin fever and decided to head out into the lonesome crowded west to see what was going on and see some bands. We decided on the mainstage to check out Keel. Now (again) the only thing I remember about this band was right before I discovered Master of Puppets they had a song called The Right To Rock that I would jam out to, only because it wouldn't have occurred to me at that age how silly it was, and I was in that exploration phase where anything I hadn't heard of, or even better if my friends hadn't heard of it, then it had to be cool. Oh how I would do anything to be so innocent again, to believe that were was some actual opposing force trying to prevent me from rocking and how indebted I felt to these guys for informing me that it was my actual right. Who knew?
The band is fronted by Ron Keel who's band carries his namesake. What we discovered was, in a sea of clearly out of touch and delusional people, the MOST diabolical turn-off I have ever witnessed since Sammy Hagar. Imagine if that 50ish rocker guy with the gross tan and exposed chest hair and gold chains, hitting on your mom at the State Fair, donned one of those awful headset mics (NO ONE HAS EVER MADE THE HEADSET MIC LOOK BADASS) and roamed the stage with an uncanny likeness to a Billy Ray Cyrus/Tony Robbins hybrid. Just powerfully lame, and totally clueless. The end mercifully came predictably with the hit of Right To Rock for which his daughter came out and sang with him.




Now it was time to head back to main stage, where we reunited with the Bermuda Triangle who were so much fun and such a blast to hang with, as well all grabbed a spot to see Kix. Their singer easily eclipsed me as the skinniest dude there, but as it looks good on a young dude like me, it looks meth-y on an old dude in leather chaps. The singer had us in stitches as his priceless between-song banter had the squeal of Paul Stanley met with the innuendo of AC/DC, and he ended every passage with " me in the parking lot in 10 minutes..." now I don't know if this dude wanted to fuck or fight or was just simply acknowledging his band's lack of fame being responsible for them being able to secure proper lodging. But like the tenacious clothing company above, this guy knew his audience and want they wanted, so out come two rocker chicks:





 Now as the sun was setting, so was my stomach as the Bermuda Triangle was getting me juiced up which was practically a prerequisite for the next band Jackyl. Although they were no strangers to this festival or playing to the lowest common denominator, sadly their a last minute (an albeit logical) choice to replace Thin Lizzy, who although Phil Lynott is no longer with us, I still really wanted to see.
 I barely have the words to describe the maelstrom of white trash ornery that swathed a debauches trail through the crowd, me and for the most part, the entire weekend. I truly believe he even shocked himself and those around him that probably have to deal with him nightly on tour. It was at times, funny, embarrassing, cringe inducing, exhausting, but I have to hand it them, it was never boring. And also it was barely musical. I don't remember if they actually played any songs, and that's the whole deal, is that people will not historically remember the music of Jackyl, but the antics their singer Jessie James Dupress exhibited will not be soon forgotten.





  As well as a new catch-phrase that I can't wait to use. During one of Mr. Dupree's many drunken tirades, a common theme was he wanted someone, anyone to venture into the nearby campgrounds to "fetch me a joint"  and in his description of the barren wasteland where I'd laid my head for the last two nights, he said "you know...out there by the Port-A-Shitters".  I literally screamed. When he wasn't making bizarre requests, he was slowly coming undressed from his red Lil Abner onesy in between taking the beer from the concession merchants that had drifted to close to the stage as the tub on their heads was at the perfect height for Mr. Dupree to strike. 
 Shuffling loose, a badge from the otherwise really uptight Sheriff that was on-site, he next set his target on the Officer's gun, but that's about as far as this humorless member of Pryor, OK's finest was going to pardon. I think it says it all when at one point, Dupree was riding on a skateboard (?) while chugging a bottle of Crown Royal, while wielding a chainsaw in the other hand. His onslaught lasted over 2 hours (to which I learned later was him throwing a public tantrum for not getting to go on last and was basically trying to shit on Stryper.


  Now who's ready to go to Church??!! I think we all felt in need of saving after that.
 I kinda always wanted to see Stryper but it was odd to experience it for the first time right after a white trash ho-down





 So when the bibles starting being thrown out it got a little hairy, as this dude in front of me was just looking for someone to connect with and was kinda freaking me out. After securing some corn dogs safely away from the surreal mixture of bible catchers and party pukers, we headed to the one of the tents as Stryper was the last band on the main stage for the day, and I wanted to check out Faster Pussycat.
  Apparently so did everyone else, or they were just as bugged out by the freak show at the main stage, cause the entire festival was in this tent! They were pretty awesome, and the vibe was just right. Bathroom Wall caused the tent to almost implode. Totally rawking!
Faster Pussycat

So with the music done for the day we headed back to camp & passed a little General Store. Suddenly this DRUNKEN girl in her early 20's starts walking toward us and the only thing she is barely wearing was the bottom to her bathing suit. She kinda looked like a heavier version of Ferris Bueller's sister (aka Baby from Dirty Dancing...R.I.P. Patrick Swayze). At first glance she appeared alone and wayward, but I quickly gathered she had just lagged behind from her group that was about 40 yards ahead, clearly wanting to lose their extra load. When she reached them, she celebrated this by removing the rest of her bathing suit to reveal an ass so white and unshapely, we could have had an encore screening of the Anvil movie on it.

Later I ventured over the VIP Campground (hey I thought we were VIPS?) and they had an official setup where some contest winning band was still keeping it going and had a decent crowd. Can't remember their name cause their just finishing up when I arrived. A girl from San Francisco walks past me & said she thought I was her boyfriend and she claimed similarities. She was dressed like a softer dominatrix (whatever that means) and was talking uncomfortably close to my mouth, when her boyfriend, who was sober and apparently knew to keep his eye on her comes over (P.S. we look NOTHING alike) and he's trying to be friendly but he smells the score. I try to get out of there but she's doing that thing where when you shake someone's hand and they don't let go thing. I finally broke free and headed back to camp, to lie down and take in all I had seen and heard this weekend and get ready for the drive back to Texas in the morning.


So we get up the next day and bug out like a M.A.S.H. unit as efficiently as we came in. Never say these boys were not Boy Scouts. I was thoroughly impressed. As we were making our way out of town I was reminded of scene from Big Daddy where Adam Sandler realizes that he's awake before McDonald's has stopped serving breakfast, and must take advantage. So we make the requisite stop, and just like in the movie, with only a few mins to spare. So close in fact that all four of us are not guaranteed to place the proper order before the breakfast to lunch changeover. Chaz is first but opts for lunch as they were out of want he wanted for breakfast (get in back of the line Chaz, time is of the essence here) I'm second and like the naturalized New Yorker I've become, I championed my way to my breakfast of choice. Our other two traveling companions were not so lucky (i.e. chumps).  As Chaz and I are waiting for our orders to be filled we are seated pretty close to our increasingly exasperated order-taker Ashley (we were now on a first name basis and seems to be the case when traveling with Chaz). When suddenly Ashley's manager delivered this gem: Apparently its the golden arches' policy to have their workers randomly sanitize their hands while working. What sets this epidemic of handwashing aloft is that the manager will unexpectedly shout "Stop...sanitize". Now this would normally not be of interest, yet however, in total synchrony Chaz and I, without discussing it, couldn't help but notice how closely her delivery sounded alot like MC Hammer's You Can't Touch This. So without missing a beat, we both look at each other and declare to the entire restaurant to "STOP!...SANITIZE!" for which they recognize as said 80's classic and respond with uproarious laughter! Chaz + Roy = Street Theater. In spite of it all I would have to say that I would totally make this trip again and plan to do so next year. Good times.


Photo Credits - 
Roy Turner

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