The Mau-Maus
Scorched Earth Policies: Then & Now
Released: January 10, 2006
Produced: Robbie Krieger, the Mau Maus & Geza X
Ratchet Blade Records

Rick Wilder – Vocals
Michael Livingston – Guitar
Scott ‘Chopper’ Franklin – Bass
Paul ‘Black’ Mars – Drums

1. (I’m) Psychotic
2. Dead or Alive
3. Laughtrack
4. Rectum of Nefertiti
5. Sex & the Single Sniper
6. Puberty
7. Warbaby
8. Faker
9. All Fall Down
10. Never Talk to Strangers
11. Joyride to the End of the World
12. Family Jewels
13. Doomsdaze
14. Greenlight

This album is the first (and only legit) release by the most notorious punk band of the late 1970′s, early 1980’s, it contains six songs from a 1983 session produced by Doors guitarist Robbie Krieger (remixed in 2010), as well as eight songs from their 2011 session produced by the Mau Maus and Geza X.

The CD includes a twenty-page full-color booklet that gives you the complete history of the Mau Maus!

Prior to this release the only recorded evidence that The Mau-Maus existed were the two songs on Hell Comes To Your House 2, Sex Girls in Uniforms, and We All Fall Down. Now, after all these years you can hear why they were one of the most legendary bands in all of Los Angeles.

If I had to sum up the overall Mau-Maus sound on this album, it’d be this: they seem to be the perfect hybrid of The Seeds and The Sex Pistols. The great sound of 1960’s garage guitars, and Mr. Wilder’s kick-ass snarling vocals.

(I’m) Psychotic and Puberty are my favorite cuts from the album.

If you get the chance to get a copy of this, go get it.

Rating: *** Three out of three stars.

On to the story . . .

Part One

When I first met my wife she was working as a bookkeeper/event planer at a banquet hall. So, when we decided to get hitched, married or for some jump over the broom, she was pretty knowledgeable when it came to weddings, receptions and bachelor and bachelorette parties.

One of her clients, a girl who was getting married at my wife’s banquet hall, managed a sports bar that was located directly behind a strip club in Van Nuys, CA. Anyway, the girl tells my wife that we should come by for lunch one day. After a few months of flaking, we stop by. We sit around talking, eating some of the standard sports bar grub, when an older heavy set guy comes limping into the bar. He looks like he’s in a shit-load of pain and he might have been crying. My wife and I look at each other, kind of, shocked, then the manager of the place tells us the guy’s story. Everyday, around lunch time this guy goes to the strip club finds a girl, pays for a standard lap-dance, then once alone he says he doesn’t want a lap-dance, he offers the girl $30.00 if she’ll kick him in the junk with her high heels. The manager figured he had some kind of low self-esteem, ya think?

After the ball kicking the guy limps over to the sports bar for some lunch. We didn’t know whether to laugh at this or offer the guy some kind of therapy, “What the fuck did your folks do to you that you need a daily kick in the balls?!”

So, the manager says that I should have my bachelor next door. And that she knows the owner, she’ll get me a great deal. I wasn’t sure I wanted to check it out after the whole nut-kicking story, but we agreed to check it out.

As soon as we stood up, the manger’s fiancé walks in. I had never met the guy, but he turned out to be a pretty nice guy. And he wasn’t alone. He worked with emotionally and mentally challenged adults, and he had three guys with him.

So, we all walk in, all seven of us, the Sports Bar Manger goes to the ticket window and says something or other, motions towards us and we’re let in.

We walk in and like most strip clubs (so I hear) there is that familiar thumping music. A few girls walking around the place and smack-dap in the middle of the joint is the main stage. On the main stage is a decent-looking girl, filled with plastic parts and dressed in . . . high-heels.

We walk over, about ten feet from the stage, and watch, the girl on stage is dancing, she does this spin, her back is to us, then she bends over so that in one glance you can see all her parts . . .

Just as she bends over there is a shriek that comes from behind me, it sounds like a cat being neutered without anesthesia. I spin around, and see it’s one of the mentally challenged guys, he’s holding his face, screaming, “Oh god, oh god.” The fiancé is is whispering to him, “Be cool man, stop it, stop it.”

The entire place is silent, the stripper insulted, the crowd is bonerless, and we all leave. It was another twenty minutes or so before the mentally challenged client stopped shaking.

Come back next week for the conclusion . . .

LAST ONE TO DIE is officially out: Order at: https://www.createspace.com/3669330.