The Latino Version of Grease 2


We missed the fight! An actual chair-tossing, face-smashing, table-turning round of putazosinside Anaheim's Latin-music cathedral, JC Fandango! It happened halfway through the Smoking Revolvers' set, apparently started by their fans, and after hearing the trio for a couple of minutes, we know why the chaos started: people were probably so desperate to stop the atrocious psychobilly they were trying to bash out one another's eardrums. It wasn't a fight; it was a favor.

JC Fandango security quickly restored order; according to owner Javier Castellanos, it was the rootin'-est-tootin'-est brawl in his club's 18-year history. But it put a damper on the rest of the night. The following act, Southgate skankers Viernes 13, were wonderful as always with their Mussorgsky-meets-Maldita horns, but even they couldn't rouse the crowd for more than a couple of songs.

Maybe Tijuana headliners Almalafa reignited the pit at midnight with their Mach 5 reggae—we don't know because we were outside as a cavalcade of cars screeched into the JC Fandango parking lot. Out jumped about 30 guys and girls led by the Smoking Revolvers, all trying their darnedest to look and act like a Santa Ana High production of Grease2. A JC Fandango security car had to cut them off at the door, just in time for Castellanos and his crew to rush them. The Revolvers' lead guitarist never exactly explained to Castellanos why his goons were ready to smash innocent car windows in the parking lot—something about a missing jacket or hurt feelings. It was hard to hear above the "Fuck you, man!"s and "Fuck this shit!"s.

Castellanos tried reasoning with them, calmly explaining that socking his customers just wasn't acceptable and that trashing his waiting room wasn't cool, either. Rather than 'fess up, the Revolvers tried placing the blame on Viernes 13, a claim Castellanos laughed off right there given 13's industry-wide reputation as gentlemen. Disgusted and wanting to avoid calling the cops on his own club, Castellanos paid the Revolvers their $100 under the condition they never return; the Revolvers, tough guys that they are, summarily left.

Oh, and one more thing: Little Midget Man, the guy who whined about getting "shanked" and then lifted up your rockabilly-chic shirt to show your "wounds"? The scratches on your back didn't constitute a shanking—hell, I've seen a little bitty kitty do worse.


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