Singer/Songwriter Bores Audience with Singing and Songs
AUSTIN—This past Friday night, singer/songwriter, Cody Dylan, bored a crowded Rusty’s Bar in the music district of Austin, by doing what he thought he did best, singing his songs. Unfortunately for Dylan, the Friday night crowd was in no mood for his mournful sad sack of songs that seemed limited in regards to the feelings being expressed. His tunes apparently came across as narrow, at least in the sense that they only projected sadness and self-pity, two not so popular emotions for audience members that had just finished up a long work week.
“I break my ass all week, taking shit from a pain-in-the ass boss and dealing with a bunch of small-minded idiots, and what do I get in return?” asked 35-year old construction worker, Frank Knoblock. ”Some clown, thinking himself an artist, singing songs about as interesting as the paste on the back of a postage stamp. I’d like to hear something a little more life affirming. You know what I mean? I should’ve stayed home with a six-pack and blasted Van Halen’s first record at top volume. Now if there’s ever been anything more life affirming than Van Halen’s first LP, I haven’t heard it.”
Cody Dylan, whose real name is Keith Sklarmczeck, expressed much disappointment over the audience’s reaction to his music. He had been very excited about playing Rusty’s and envisioned an entirely different outcome than the one that left him heartbroken by the time midnight rolled around.
“I tried to give them something different,” said the Austin tunesmith. “I tried to give them something unique, something about the human experience. I tried to show them a mirror of themselves.”
“Oh, that’s bullshit,” replied Knoblock. “This Dylan character obviously never worked a day in his life. Otherwise, he’d learn that the last thing people want to do, after killing themselves for forty to fifty hours a week, is to reflect on it and relive it. People want to escape. They want to know there’s something else out there besides the drudgery they experience every single goddamn day of their miserable f**kin’ lives. I don’t want to see a goddamn mirror. I want to see some f**kin’ T&A and get fuckin’ loaded.”
Friends of Dylan’s are currently worried about his state of mind. They say he has fallen into a state of depression, which is isn’t unusual for Dylan, though this time around, they’ve recognized some even more alarming symptoms.
“Cody is always moping around, mumbling his words and sipping on his coffee with a look of despair on his face,” said Caty Cashpile, longtime friend. “That’s nothing new. We all know Cody’s a sensitive guy. Lately, however, he’s been locking himself in the bathroom for hours and then going outside and burying his entire head in a hole in the backyard. We don’t feel as if he is in danger, as long as someone keeps a watch on him. Still, if no one is there to dig his noodle out of the hole in the ground, there is a chance he may suffocate.”
Asked whether Dylan would ever get another chance to play Rusty’s again, possibly on a Sunday night when the audience may be a tad more subdued, owner, Jack Dibbits, answered, “Yeah, possibly. I’m never here on Sundays so I really could give a crap about who plays what. As long as there’s cash in the till at the end of the night, I’m all good.”
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Fucking sweet. It’s funny because it’s true. Why are so many douche nozzles named Cody?
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