Our story is born on the back water bayous of Craptown North Dakota, population 1000 including the 800 inmates at the maximum prison just on the outskirts of town. Back some time in the 1970's, no one is really quite sure exactly what date, two strangers met at where else in Craptown, but the local watering hole.... The local watering hole. They came together in a night of passionate, blurred, hot, puking love, and created what was then called Poseidon Lemont Villalobos (aka Pete Jimenez). They loved this child just long enough to get madly drunk again with celebration to create another... that's right the same night Poseidon was born, the two crazy drunk birds created another. Nine months later this one was moniker Augustus Von Hoffman Villalobos (aka Adrian Rivas). And during the celebration of his birth, again in a drunken, puking state they decided to create yet another. Nine agonizing months later came the last and youngest of the trio, through 89 hours of painful labor, and tons of ice chips. Barreling his way to life, and pulling his drumsticks with him… Bob (aka Dave Ng). Tired of the fancy name calling coupled with a limited education, and no more sandwiches to chose from the local shop, they chose to name the third one after an uncle one of them thought they had… come to find out it was the drunk at the end of the bar at The watering hole. Now that they had their three strapping young men to work the worm farm, they were set. Never again did they have to lift a finger around the house. No need to purchase that TV. with the remote, Bob, can change the channels. No need for the dishwasher, Poseidon can do the dishes, no need for a flushable toilet, Augustus can bucket the shit out. Ahhhh what a life these two “parents†had. Till one day during the monthly bath by the toxic river bed, Augustus was singing and Bob was sticking a beat, while Poseidon was off throwing rocks at the sticks floating by… but we’ll get him involved later. Realizing they have some potential, and talent, Augustus and Bob decided to collect cans in order to buy instruments. They get the ones on the ground, but convince Poseidon to capture the ones in the dumpsters, promising him riches beyond his wildest dreams. Poseidon quickly and eagerly volunteer’s his services in hopes of striking it rich with golden bowling balls and pearl shoes, only to find rusted beer cans, and toxic dippers. Feeling sorry for their older brother, after purchasing all the music equipment they needed, they invited him to play along… that and no one answered their add for a musician except the nanny killing pervert on death row. This was odd because they placed the ad only where the general population could read it…. That tells us there are snitches in prison, go figure. Anyway realizing the talent between themselves, Augustus and Bob decide on their instruments, leaving the scraps for Poseidon… they figured it only has four strings even he couldn’t fuck that up. Performing better than they imagined, Poseidon beat their expectations and the musical giant was born. They practiced every chance they got, without the parents finding out, which wasn’t that hard, they just stayed away from the watering hole. They performed at the Prison, where the inmates cheered and threw panties on stage… which was a little weird because it was a male joint, but it didn’t matter they were rock stars. Then one day the warden told them they needed to get out of town if they were going to make it big. He told them “you need to go where the lights are bright, and the water flows like beer…†“Los Angeles?†Poseidon said, “No, you need to go where the Tacos taste like meat, and the women are prettier than the men…†“Austin?†cried out Bob. “NO, you’re not listening. You need to head out west where the border is just a hop, skip and a jump away, where you can drink and drown, get a bucket, and a donkey show all in the same hour.†“I know†said Augustus…. “New York City.†“No you fucking morons…. El Paso. That’s where you’ll make it.†So the boys headed out to the big city with high hopes and big dreams. Piled on their bikes with their instruments strapped to their backs, they peddled their collective asses off to get where the warden sent them. Only hoping for the riches they were promised, dreaming of big stages, and endless clubs of original music. Would their dreams come true or shatter on the rocks off the El Paso pier in the Indian Ocean… stay tuned to continue this heartburn warming story of true trial and tribulation….
