Toledo Tales

Left: Fan club president Jazubowski is pissed

(Toledo, OH) Bowling afficianado and president of the local Billy Squier Fan Club Nathan "Nappy" Jazubowski said that the "rock snobbery" of the Rock-and-Roll Hall of Fame is to blame for Squier not being inducted.

"There's just no other explanation why a guy this talented gets left out in the cold," said Jazubowski, pausing to hit a passed joint and to flip a vinyl copy of 1982's Emotions in Motion. "Billy Squier is a rock god, and should be remembered that way in the Hall of Fame."

Left: Squier unappreciated by the "tight-assed freaks" of the Selection Committee

Squier, who had a string of arena rock and power ballad hits in the early 1980s, is probably best known for the song "The Stroke" on his 1981 album Don't Say No.

"Stroke Me, Stroke Me," crooned Jazubowski in a duet with roommate Kevin Grefton, who was largely unconscious on the couch. "Is there a song that better captures the teenage angst and futility of the material world? I - don't - think - so."

Jazubowski said that the Fan Club will "keep up the fight" to get Squier nominated and, ultimately, inducted into the Hall of Fame.

"It's the least we can do for the guy who gave us that killer power rock riff in 'Everybody Wants You,'" he said. "You know it, right? 'Da-da-da, da-da-da, da-da-DEE-da-da-da-da.' Nobody rocks the joint better than Billy Squier."

(Toledo, OH) The six-way intersection at Laskey, Tremainsville and Douglas roads in West Toledo is notorious for rush hour backups, but local resident Pat Reeger observed what he called "divine traffic intervention" last week.

"Dude - it was waaay cool," he told a Toledo Tales reporter. "That left turn lane normally lets only three, maybe four cars turn. I watched nine - count 'em nine - goddamn cars make that light, mister. No way that coulda happened without the Big Man getting involved."

Reeger said that the first five cars through the intersection proceeded at an orderly, though quick, pace.

"They weren't like, flooring it or anything," he said, ackowledging that the event was "heightened" for him by some acid he'd dropped. "But they were definitely in tune with each other, you know? But those next two cars - I mean, whoa! They were really hauling ass."


Left: Reeger "blown away" by the miracle

The moment of "righteous power" occurred as vehicles eight and nine made it through the light, said Reeger.

"I swear that I have never seen a ten-second yellow light in my life, but that light took forever - for-e-ver - to change," he said, still glowing from observing the "holy" event. "You can't tell me that I didn't just see the Almighty Himself out there, brother. There is no other explanation."

By Billy Pilgrim, Toledo Tales Rogue Editor

Left: Gonzales harmonizes in C major with a Labor Works assistant

It was no secret to those in line at Labor Works on Monroe Street yesterday afternoon that the unemployment rate in Toledo has, for decades, been significantly higher than the national average, and peaked at nearly 8% after President Bush’s reelection in 2004.

However, when an undisclosed source told these struggling citizens that a recent Toledo Blade article showed Michigan’s unemployment rate rose to a staggering 7.1% in August 2006, they couldn’t help themselves: the assembled downtrodden suddenly erupted into song to celebrate the sufferings of Michiganders.

“It was amazing, like something out of Annie, except Fred here smells like ass,” recalled Victor Gonzalez, an out-of-work general contractor. “We didn’t even have to warm up or pick a key. We just launched into ‘Proud Mary’ like our asses depended on it. And not that shitty Ike and Tina version — I’m talking that original, gut-wrenching Creedence mojo, brother.”

Left: Toledo's workers may be out of a job, but they are staying on key

Many of Gonzales’ unemployed compatriots shared this musical schadenfreude at the plight of their northern neighbors.

“My ex-husband Stan lives in Jackson [Michigan], so you're goddamn right I sang along,” boomed Mary Hopkins-Brown. “I even took the high melody part when we did the outro to [Bob] Seger’s ‘Night Moves.’ That was Stan’s favorite. I hope he can’t even pay his heat bill this winter, that worthless son of a bitch. He slept with my sister.”

By Billy Pilgrim, Toledo Tales Rogue Editor

Left: Burbank hopelessly searching the DSM-IV for a teen’s obscure sexual perversion

(Toledo, OH) For most Americans, it is a sad irony indeed that the annual holiday season spanning November through January sees a sharp rise in depression, feelings of loneliness, and suicide which result from the increased focus on spirituality and self-inventory.

However, this is not the case for Toledo psychologist Dr. Diana Burbank, whose entire livelihood is rooted in the emotional suffering of others, and who longingly anticipates the flurry of new patients that come this time of year.

“Let me tell you, Thanksgiving can’t come fast enough,” remarked Burbank while erasing another canceled appointment from her schedule book. “This time of year, it’s all autumn leaves, people playing tennis in long sleeve t-shirts—all that bullshit. But come Turkey Day, every fatty and anorexic bitch for miles will line up here to get their sob on.”

Burbank seemed especially energized since this year’s rise in business may have a positive impact on her personal finances as well as her domestic life.

“My daughter Alexie is turning 16 in February, so I hope to work some extra referrals to lease her one of those new Lexus ES 350s,” Burbank explained. “And it’s only fitting—the whiny brat was conceived in the back of an LS400, so maybe if she has her own car, she’ll stop fucking that Puerto Rican kid in my bed and go parking somewhere. She thinks I can’t tell when she’s washed the sheets, but I can. God, what a ditz.”

Left: Cutsie Band-Aid no help for a fractured talus

(Toledo, OH)The painful fall that Sarah Jacobs took last weekend resulted in a broken ankle for the 36-year-old Toledo resident, but husband Phil found a silver lining in this particular cloud.

"She had just signed us up for these gay-ass square dance classes," he laughed. "While I am sorry that Sarah is in a cast, I can now spend my Saturday afternoons watching football instead of listening to some dork call out 'Allemande Left' or some crap."

Jacobs said that he was "resistant" to his wife's desire to learn square dancing, but that he went along.

"I was hoping for some sort of divine intervention, and I'll be damned - I got one," he chuckled, scanning the sports page for game times. "With classes just a week away, I was beginning to sweat a little. What do they always say: 'God works on His own time." Yeah, that's a truism."

Left: Phil Jacobs simply cannot believe his good fortune

Jacobs said that he was at work when his wife first called him with the report of her injury.

"So I'm sitting at my desk, and this thought pops into my head while she's yapping and whining: 'No-square-dance-lessons,'" he said, stifling a guffaw. "I put her on hold for a second, set down the reciever, and screamed: 'YESSS!' My coworkers must have thought I was nuts, but at that moment I was the happiest man on the planet."

Jacobs said that he does not believe he is being insensitive to his wife's needs.

"Oh yeah - I'm doing a lot of waiting on her, no doubt," he said. "But that's a small price for what amounts to a complete redemption of my masculinity. How the hell would I have ever lived down the merciless ribbing I would have taken if I told [best friends] Dave and Josh I couldn't go to an OSU game because I had to square dance? I'll tell you how - not at all. I'd just have to be dead inside, just dead."

By Billy Pilgrim, Toledo Tales Rogue Editor

Left: Jessup at home

Myrtle Jessup lost her reason to live last May when her husband of 47 years, Ezra, surrendered in his hard-fought battle with leukemia.

Or so she thought.

For weeks, she moped around her small Toledo apartment, desperately craving the hard-sell of a telemarketer or the shameless proselytizing of Jehovah’s Witnesses on her doorstep.

Thankfully, Jessup’s salvation came in the form of local junk mail and sales flyers, which started to grace her mailbox earlier this summer and now constantly replenish her self worth.

“It’s God’s will that I’m on these mailing lists now,” beamed Jessup, thumbing through a stack of amateurish vouchers from B.K.’s Car Wash on Lagrange. “I saved 72¢ on seedless grapes last week at Kroger. With savings like that, I could bear the death of my only granddaughter — and good riddance. That little hussy hasn’t called since Christmas.”

Left: Great deals as well as being a lifeline

Indeed, Jessup’s favorite part of the day is her slow, disjointed shuffle from her doily-slathered sitting room to check what the postman may have left her.

“Sometimes when I watch the birds outside my bedroom window, I think of Ezra…how he’s left me here, struggling alone,” sputtered Jessup. “But then I think of the mail, and how today could be the day I get a coupon for a free Frosty. So it all balances out.”

(Toledo, OH) There were no obvious lessons for November in the smattering of primary elections held around the U.S. Tuesday, but a new poll suggests that one key demographic may hold the key for savvy politicians.

A survey by Yankelovich, the North Carolina-based pollster and consulting firm, showed that Labrador retrievers and their owners have "zapped the gap," meaning today's Labs seem unusually close to their elders.

"What we're seeing is owners and dogs being more likely to start discussions about the marketplace and life in general more from a place of commonality than conflict," reported John Page, the company's canine insights manager. "Thus, politicians who don't carry Milkbones with them are likely to experience negative consequences in November."

Page had additional tips for campaigning candidates about America's top breed of dogs.

"At no point should you yell: 'BAD DOG,'" he cautioned. "Even if the Labrador is trying to bury the bone in your leg, try to relax and go with the flow. Better to have to wipe up a little doggie jizz than to piss off a voter."

Left: Be like Bill

Page also urged politicians to really put forth an effort to understand what he referred to as "Generation Lab."

"What are their wants? What are their needs? How do businesses market to them?" he asked. "The candidates who know how to keep Rex happy have a decided edge over those with rolled up newspapers and fierce looks. Learn to embrace the Lab in every voter, or at least to fake it. But be careful - Labs can smell a fraud from a country mile away, and they are not bashful about outing you."

By Billy Pilgrim, Toledo Tales Rogue Editor

Left: Baskins, before cheaping out

It began innocently enough, according to Michelle Baskins, a Toledo housewife and mother of two: now that summer is over, she wanted to make a concerted effort to start saving for the holiday season. The most logical way to do this, or so she thought, was to “cut a few corners” on her weekly grocery trip to the Monroe Street Kroger.

Little did Mrs. Baskins know, however, that her decision to purchase several hygiene items of inferior quality would result in the embitterment of her entire family, and jeopardize the integrity of her decision-making skills in the eyes of her husband and children.

“I went to shave this morning, and there’s a bag of Kroger brand disposable razors sitting on the bathroom counter,” recalls a visibly disturbed Tom Baskins, a local engineer. “I called downstairs to Michelle and she acted like it was no big deal. Now I’ve got seventeen pieces of Kroger-brand toilet paper clotting my neck—this shit is ridiculous.”

The youngest member of the Baskins family echoed her father’s contempt for the situation.

“Mommy says we use the bad tippies now, but they leave fuzzies in my ears,” lamented Candice, 4, referring to generic cotton swabs. “Mommy says we have to save our monies for Santa, but why would Santa want me sad? Why?”

Left: Those 'fuzzy-leaving tippies'

Only time itself, it seems, will heal the Baskins’ suffering, as they anxiously await Michelle’s next grocery outing.

“I’ve never seen a bigger bunch of whiners in my whole life,” huffed Mrs. Baskins while loading her dishwasher. “I’m wearing some no-name tampons, but you don’t see me bitching about it even though they feel like cardboard wrapped in sandpaper. If Tom and the kids want a plasma screen TV for Christmas, then by God, we’ve got to start saving somewhere.”

By Billy Pilgrim, Toledo Tales Rogue Editor

(Toledo, OH) Dr. Thomas L. Cooper—affectionately known to his patients as “Dr. Tom”—has been in the same medical office on Secor Road for nearly thirty years, yet never tires of making you thrash with pain from his perverse catalog of metal instruments.

Dr. Cooper particularly enjoys jabbing a jagged hook into your gums while rambling about his last fishing trip.

“Caught a thirteen pound trout in May, I did,” Dr. Cooper remarks, scraping bits of last night’s lasagna from your throbbing molars. “Matter of fact, you’re my last appointment before I take a weekend trip to my lake house in Michigan, so why don’t we stop squirming, shall we?”

In addition to testing your threshold for discomfort and ache, Dr. Cooper also receives a profound thrill from lying to you about how you can improve your dental hygiene.

“Two cavities this time—not good,” Cooper huffs disapprovingly. “Have to schedule another appointment for that…I think I have an opening at 8:30 a.m. the last Saturday this month. In the meantime, try to refrain from sexual intercourse for several weeks, and gargle a vinegar-brine solution thrice daily. Should clear up your plaque in no time.”

Left: No tooth is safe from Cooper's clutches

One important weapon in Dr. Cooper's "arsenal of pain" are the faux anesthetics he administers.

"Supposed to be novocaine, but I always cut it with saline," grimaces Cooper as he uses pliers to remove your crown. "And I don't mix in much nitrous oxide, either. Never got any when I was young, and I don't see a reason you should have any, either. Besides - pain makes you stronger. Some day you'll thank me."

Left: Fed up and fixing to jump on board the corporate gravy train

(Toledo, OH) Local musician Jack Mollenkopf says that he is "pretty tired" of holding on to the dream of maintaining artistic integrity as he forges ahead in the music industry.

"Face it - not many musicians or bands can keep more than a shred of dignity anyways," he said between Tuesday night sets at Maxwell's Brew. "I am tired of being broke, tired of playing to 'crowds' of eleven people, and tired of bar tabs that are bigger than my so-called 'take' of the door."

Mollenkopf, who has been a member of "over a dozen" local bands plus being a fixture on the acoustic singer-songwriter scene since 1995, said that Toledo audiences "suck in just about every way possible."

"Most houses only come alive when I play stupid bullshit like Nickelback's "How You Remind Me" or "Photograph," and it kills me to keep recycling this insipid drivel," he said, crushing a cigarette under his Doc Martens. "But if I have to play bullshit, at least it could be MY bullshit, and maybe I could actually make some money while I am doing it."

Left: Small crowds, smaller minds

The would-be megastar believes that he needs to make the jump to "soulless big label lackey" soon.

"Crappy mamangement jobs in fast food restaurants are starting to sound good right about now," admitted Mollenkopf. "At least at those places you get a salary, benefits, and all the curly fries you can eat. Any more of this shit and I am calling Arby's."

Left: Crime expert Breckenspleth

(Perrysburg, OH) Perrysburg resident Carl Breckenspleth, longtime television afficiando, said that his skills as a crime profiler have "dramatically increased" over the past few years.

"After many years of watching "CSI," "Profiler," and "Law and Order," I can pretty much figure out any crime," he said, interspersing his comments with channel-surfing. "I have honed my skills under the tutelage of such luminaries as Dr. Sam Waters [Profiler] and Detective Lennie Briscoe [Law and Order]."

Breckenspleth said that he can usually "nail the crook" within 5 minutes of the start of a crime drama.

"Sometimes I figure it out as soon as the camera pans on the character," he mused. "It's kind of scary - I'm like psychic or something."

His unique crime-profiling skills are not limited to television, added Breckenspleth.

"Take my neighbor, who just had his car stolen last week," he said. "I called up the police and told them they need to be looking for someone over 12 - little kids can't see over the steering wheel - and that it is probably someone who has no respect for the rule of law - since he stole the car. I'm pretty sure they appreciated my help, and that the criminal will be rounded up soon."

Perrysburg police refused to comment on the case, but a spokesman added that "serious tips are always welcome. I did say 'serious,' right?"

Left: Stillwell readying his "explosive" 9/11 tribute

(Toledo, OH)Carl Stillwell has been "addicted" to model airplanes since he was a young boy.

"Nothing I used to like better than dousing one of these puppies with gas, igniting it, and letting 'er fly," he said, navigating a 6' Telemaster Electro across a deserted field. "Maybe it's a little weird, but wrecking model planes has been one of my life's passions."


Left: Practice run of Stillwell's 9/11 extravaganza

Stillwell intends to "max out" his detonative abilities on September 11, when he plans to demolish a scale model replica of the World Trade Center by crashing two radio-controlled planes into the buildings.

"To make sure they blow, I've packed both buildings with about 800 grams of blackpowder apiece," he said of the 7-foot plastic-and-metal structures. "Should be one hell of a show."

Stillwell has decided to keep attendance to a minimum for his WTC tribute.

"I've got a couple of neighbors coming over, but that's about it," he said, landing a model aircraft. "The city is still pissed at me over my "Wreck of the Old 97" demonstration that caught the garage on fire. I should have used HO scale instead of the Lionels, but hey - live and learn, am I right?"