The Bar None Juiced-box: (Don’t) Take My Picture – Filter

Because i just haven’t posted that much totally gay music lately:

[Press ‘Play’ to flame]

D'arcy Wretzky

To Add Some Testosterone To This Post

D'arcy Wretzky

My Excuse Is That D'arcy Wretzky Sang On A Couple Filter Tunes

D'arcy Wretzky

D'arcy Wretzky in The Bar None

What’s going on that i would add such a lame song to the juiced-box? The truth lies in the story behind the song.

Here’s Jason Patrick, lead guy of Filter:

Richard Patrick of Filter

Richard Patrick went to rehab for something like six years.

Here’s what he looked like last week:

Richard Patrick Now

See what happens when you stop the alcohol that's preserving you?

Patrick wrote “Take My Picture” in the late ’90’s after an incident on an airplane where he got totally drunk and decided to take off his clothes mid-flight so he could get more comfortable. Stripping down to his boxers alarmed the passengers, apparently even more than the fact Filter is often referred to as a heavy metal band(!).  The incident ended with his “wrestling with flight attendants”; and i don’t think this is meant in the good way. “Take My Picture” was his response to the passengers’ reaction. While no picture is available of this striptease, here is the Bar None’s artists rendition of the whole affair.

First Classy Drunk

First Classy Drunk

Take a closer look at the lyrics i’ve included at the bottom of this post and you’ll see the entire mess spelled out there. “Hey dad, what do you think about your son now?”

A Smoke

Feel free to skip the rest of this post, unless you’re looking for something for your eyes to do while you listen to the rest of the song. This is just a blast from my Pabst and i’m certain to take the event too seriously still to make that much fun of it here. Plus, i’ve been dry since Sunday, a total of five days straight, and that doesn’t suit me well at all. Tell you what, i’ll make a joke right here, up front, and then you promise you’ll skip to the lyrics… Deal?

Here’s the joke:

Have you heard the latest pickup line making rounds at the Bar None?

“If you held a party in your mouth, could i come?”

Ok, now you scroll all the way down and i’ll be up here mumbling into my beer. One last touch of humor before you go, though: it’s crazy ironic that i’m telling this story sober and on a Friday night.

One time someone did Take My Picture and that someone was my ex-wife, before she became the Expresso.

i’ve already mentioned my office has a cocktail every party every Friday and during my 10 years of marriage i hit that pretty much religiously. One Friday night i came back Saturday morning, in the wee hours, and passed out slumped sitting up on the sofa. i don’t remember if that was the same time i put hamburgers on the stove to fry and blacked out long before they did, only to be awoken by my, understandably, hysterical wife. Regardless, i’m sure i had my traditional Saturday hangover, which is the price i have to pay for my Friday night Invincible, and certainly had to abandon the kids to their mother so i could suffer in silence.

Yes, there’s a lot i’m not proud of when i binge. A lot that i’ve done and have cracked memories of, like looking in a broken mirror, and sometimes those shards of my past come back to cut me. And i bleed and i bleed and i bleed.

No mention was made of this ‘misstep’ in my walk along the straight and narrow of functional alcoholism. The incident was relegated with all the other pink elephants in the living room to a corner we pretended didn’t exist.

Until she kicked me out one Valentine’s Day, on a Friday night. In the weeks following our separation, i was going through boxes of photographs, separating the cases of mine from the envelopes of hers, when i came across a picture. She’d taken it of me passed out on the sofa with my clothes crumpled, my hair a mess and my shoes still on. The idiotic posture of my head and my tongue hanging out like a drunken camel made it clear i was thoroughly soused. Shame burned through me so strongly i started to sweat as i sat on the floor, staring at the proof of who i was.

That’s my blast from the Pabst for today.

i’ve decided not to apologize about writing it ’cause y’all are free to read or not read. Besides, this post was written only for a chosen few: the D.R.I.N.K.E.R.s (Drunks Really Involved Now Known as Exiles Reunited). i’m writing this with the hopes that those of you out there who are reading because you are drinkers will share some of your experiences here, with us, in the Bar None. Tell us about your victories and your defeats, what you want and what you’ve got and what you’re stuck with. There’s nothing you can say that will make us send you away. This is the BAR NONE.

Anyway, i know what Patrick’s talking about better than he does when he says “Take My Picture”. Still, i woulda written a cooler song about it. Something less faggy than his, for sure.

A Smoke

Anyway, here are the lyrics to “Take My Picture”

Awake on my airplane
Awake on my airplane
My skin is bare
My skin is theirs
Awake on my airplane
Awake on my airplane
My skin is bare
My skin is theirs
I feel like a newborn
And I feel like a newborn
Awake on my airplane
Awake on my airplane
I feel so real

Could you take my picture
‘Cuz I won’t remember
Could you take my picture
‘Cuz I won’t remember
Could you take my picture
‘Cuz I won’t remember

I don’t believe in
I don’t believe in
Your sanctity
Your privacy
I don’t believe in
I don’t believe in
A hypocrisy
Could everyone agree that
No one should be left alone
Could everyone agree that
They should not be left alone yeah
And I feel like a newborn
And I feel like a newborn
Kicking and screaming


Hey dad what do you think about your son now
Ah hey dad what do you think about your son now

Chorus (4 times)

A Smoke

Just a reminder to all you D.R.I.N.K.E.R.s: i’d love to hear from you, share what you feel comfortable with or don’t share anything at all. A simple “Hey, babe’ would suffice. Don’t be shy, you’re a freaking drinker after all! Have a shot then take one, for chrissakes!

10 thoughts on “The Bar None Juiced-box: (Don’t) Take My Picture – Filter

  1. I threw up myself and had to be carried out by a doctor at a party where I won an award for being the awesomest.

    I also threw up on a Customs agent in Mexico.

    I also threw up in my friends closet after mistaking it for a suitable replacement bathroom.

    I’m with you, my friend.

  2. Shel? Guess what, i have a secret. Shhh.

    You’re still the awesomest.

    (Ok, maybe it’s not so much of a secret…)

    Thanks, Princesse

  3. I am a causious drinker and a social drinker, meaning I only drink if someone else is paying, if I am protected from making an ass of my self (say, by trying to drive) and I stop drinking once drunk (and often before that). It took me a long time to figure out how to drink without getting sick, but by doing so, I was able to increase the amount I do drink. The end result is no signifigant changes in personality or regretable incidents. So the worst thing that ever happened because of my drinking happened before I learned how not to get sick;
    It was my first real competitive game of quarters. I dunno if it is winning or losing to have put away as many shots as I had to (lousy hand/eye co-ordination), but I was holding my beer pretty well (to my suprise) until someone mentioned how pale I looked. Had to look. There was a full length mirror in the livingroom, but (like Bowie sang) I never caught a glimpse. The quick spinning of my head started the rest of the world spinning, which did not stop when my head did and that familiar rollercoaster feeling came from my stomach. I didn’t know if I coul;d walk, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to spoil the party by tossing my cookies at the table. As I made a dash for the bathroom, I knew I wasn’t going to make it and not wanting to make a mess that would have to be cleaned up soon, grabbed the closest thing that would hold my stomach contents – my goldfish bowl. Yup, I killed my goldfish. My alcohol consumption made me a murderer. Something to consider next time you invite me to a party.

    • Thanks for sharing, brother!

      What a great story!

      i must admit i’m a little jealous about your ability to stop when you need to. i just don’t have that ‘Stop’ button no latter how bad i get. This lack in me is something responsible drinkers just don’t ‘get’, and this leads to statements like “Why don’t you just stop drinking when you’re drunk?” It’s like asking a professional athlete to figure out the cosine of x over y. We. Just. Don’t. Know. How.

      i’m glad you’ve got that gift, though. Trust me, it over-complicates life in ways you wouldn’t believe.

      On the bright side, BECAUSE of your story, you have an open invitation to my apartment anytime you like.

      Keep Up The Good Work, Bro,

      Al K Hall

  4. Interesting stories! Funny, in a dark way, not funny in another way. We’ve all had the funny stories happen, but then there are the the not-so-funny ones.

    For me, I cannot think about drinking too much and two of the very worst, the very lowest things I have done in my life, which were, first, to betray the one I love and then, because of it, to betray myself and my own life. I cannot think of that night without thinking about the fact that I still want to die because of it, in part because of the knowing of how very much I *wanted* to die that night. I have never wanted anything so much in my life. And it has scarred me sober (scarred, not scared). It showed me that I am the kind of person capable of really dark deeds to others and to myself. It was as far from humorous as any time in my life so far.

    I was going to write, “thankfully, I am still alive” but the thankfully part would be a little bit of a lie. Coming back from that experience has been very challenging.

    It’s one thing to throw up on someone, it’s one thing to barf in a goldfish bowl (poor goldfish!), or, as I did, pee myself and my couch when I got passed out drunk a few years back. Those are the funny-stupid incidents that we can all chuckle at and say, “been there, done that.”

    It’s another thing, though, when alcohol becomes 75% of the reasons why a marriage ends (from one person’s POV, the one taking the photograph, after Friday night upon Friday night of betrayal of the relationship) and another thing when a vibrant woman decides under the influence she needs to end it all.

    There is a line, a line where the funny becomes something very NOT funny. It’s the tension underlying this blog that I feel every time Al writes: there certainly is humor in alcohol and at poking fun at oneself and others around alcoholic life. But there is an underbelly to what it really is to live with a person who has a very dysfunctional relationship with booze and how it has wrecked aspects of life for himself and the others around him. It’s right at that line where comedy becomes tragedy and a waste of life.

    Richard Patrick may have written a sissy song over a stupid-drunk incident, but what he did to get sober and pull his shit together was not sissy at all. I don’t mean that in a preachy way. I mean that in a “how much I would still like to drink and smoke and eat whatever the hell I want” kind of way, and how much I would like to still shirk off and blow off and still just have fun. How I would like to be able, with no consequences, to have Friday night after Friday night to party. But when you hit that line of it being something tragic, hit upon the tragedy that it can be for some who gamble with substance abuse and actually find in yourself that you have to DO something about it, that is when everything becomes very “not sissy” and a matter of survival.

  5. Deep conversation that went on here, I greatly understand what you are saying about the want to do nothing. For a long time my step father has been an alcoholic, though he has realized how much it has hurt his family he cannot stop. Do I think aloholism is a disease? No. I Think alcoholism is selfish, but for some people cannot be helped. Good luck to anyone dealing with alcoholism or someone who is an alcoholic. Thanks.

    • Johnny,

      First off, thanks for being one of the few who come here not just to look at a Meagan Fox downblouse shot and then not read the article. Second off, thanks for having the guts to leave a comment. i get about 1800 page reads per day on this site and the LARGE majority are too scared of me to say anything.

      Third off, thank you for taking the post as seriously as it was intended and for your honesty. i hope your step-father’s hurting you and the rest of your family is something you’re able to deal with and, if it gets a little extreme, i hope you trust me enough to let me know so we can try to fix it for you.

      Alcoholism *is* selfsih. You’re right. But you’re also right when you say he cannot help himself and only a true and real alcoholic knows what this means. Thanks, again, for your best wishes for all of us. God bless us, someone.

      And, as always, thanks for patronizing me.

      Al K Hall

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