Cops always got to Hate

S.F.P.D can't stop the rock. They can stop it for the time being, but not forever. The rock will continue as long as we continue to push it. There is no stopping the momentum when the Golden Gators are dead set on rocking.
There were at least two hundred people out at Balboa and 40th Avenue on April 18th. There were some haters and some people who didn't realize there were bands playing and blew off the rock. Those who remained true and concentrated on the passion were sweating. I mean, the atmosphere was down right damp, but hot.

Swank and Tatanka Iyotake played and we did it rough and tough.
Ihabial from Sacramento came out and threw down the power. They were an instrumental four-piece that came with a mystical shot from the moon. They set the tone and the Gators got down. The living room was cleared for the bands. The room was lit with a dim red light bulb and is set a mood.
We were grinding it out and the females were showing up in packs. I swear, just as the night was turning into quite the sausage fest, I found myself in a room surrounded by beautiful able-bodied women. I got a few smiles and a few eye-rolls. Even if the ladies knew it or not, I set my impression in their minds and it stuck.
Everyone downstairs knew where the rock was and when it was going down. Everyone was killing it. I mean, the bands didn't give a crap if you wanted to rock or not. The music was overwhelming.
As the droplets of sweat began to collect on the audience's faces, the people with long hair started to shower the non-believers. Yeah, that is right; the sweat from the rocker's hair was flying all over the place. Just trying to get through the living room to a place with some air was difficult. It was packed, and that is what got the cops called. A good time mixed with booze always seems to get those cops jealous. They try to come and ruin all of our fun. Cops are not cool. They will never be cool.
The cops showed up with a force. They kicked down the door and made their presence known. They were definitely not welcome, but they always seem to want to crash the best parties. To their dismay, and to our brief joy, the cops gave up on corralling the party and bounced. After they left, there were still about fifty Gators that were still there and eager to rock. Even though the musicians had retired their instruments for the night, the party was starting to warm up again.
A few new twelve packs of beer arrived and the party was jump started. As smiles started to appear all around the house and people started to pack bowls and roll up blunts, the already diluted party volume was rising.
Next thing I knew, I saw her. Sitting alone, naive but composed, I could not keep myself from speaking to her. Her soft eyes drew me deep inside and I felt a connection with a sweetness I never encountered before. Her soft lips make my heart swell and then she has me. I know what I want, if only she wanted the same. There was a flash in the corner of my eye. As I turned toward its direction, there was another harsh blue flash.
The cops were back, and when they come to your house, it is never a good thing. When the cops come twice in the same night, you know you got problems. The party's host, Greg, was getting tired of these petty annoyances and decided to give the ugly boys in blue a little piece of his mind. In hindsight, he probably wishes he would have changed his mind, because whatever he said earned him a trip downtown and a six hour stay in a holding cell. In true Golden Gator fashion, Sam Carr (Greg's roommate) argued with the police about his friend's whereabouts. The cops ignored him and refused to hear his plea. With the tenacity of a warrior, Sam would not take the police's ignorance for an answer. He pressured and pressured until he was put in the cop car and got taking down to the station himself.
Well, at least no one can say that the Golden Gators went out without a fight. Those lame cops were messing with our livelihood. When you mess with the passion, you know your going to get the horns. This case is not closed, and we will have our day. The rock will thrive no matter what. We come to bring it, and we will never stop. Rock on Golden Gators, Rock on forever.

Rocking on Gator Turf

The Golden Gator Rockers are getting down on their home turf. In Jack Adams Hall, on the third floor of the S.F.S.U. student union, Swank and the Rockers, took the student center to its limits. On April 2, 2008 Swank set a standard for rockers of the past and hopefully the future. Jack Adams Hall was packed with S.F.S.U. students looking to enjoy a calm orientation. Students were gathering to meet and discuss opportunities for involvement in San Francisco city activities. In contrast, Swank gave students a lot to handle. As the Rockers hit the stage, the walls of Jack Adams Hall began to shake and it wasn't a fault line causing the motion. The students did not realize what they were in store for. Mixed emotions flowed around the entire auditorium as the Rockers began to play. Some students rushed the stage, stood tall and embraced the power coming from the stage. Other students prepared to leave because the power of the music was too out of this world for them. The mixer was packed with all kinds of student organizations that were hoping to recruit new members. Many sororities and fraternities sponsored tables. They were giving out free canned soda. They had Strawberry Fanta which is basically Golden Gator Rocker fuel because it is just so damn good.
The remaining students were blown away as they listened to the music. One in particular was reduced to tears over the mere fact that such solid rock had graced the stage of Jack Adams Hall. Swank hit the stage directly at 7:00 pm and approximately fifteen minutes later Jack Adams himself turned in his grave. Swank got down for one reason: to introduce the young or unknown Gators to the lineage of the pack. When describing the pack, I am referring to the Golden Gator Rockers, the one true organization that is solely devoted to kicking your ass with music. Swank is a proud representative and carrier of the Golden Gator Rocker torch. Of course there is no physical torch constantly burning in someone's garage but there is a symbolic flame that burns forever deep inside the soul of anyone who has experienced the thrill and overt impact of a Golden Gator Rocker performance. It's about the grittiness of a house party and the intrusion of people who will not rest until they have rocked.
For all of the young gators who attended the April 2nd mixer at Jack Adams Hall- welcome, to a lineage of power that will only stop if you let it. The gator mascot was there showing his support. A true gentleman, the gator mascot honored me with the rocker salute. When Swank's front man got very loud. All the gators, who could not handle the rock and roll pressure left the auditorium. For the remaining gators who endured the audio power surge on stage- way to go! Thanks for showing support for your fellow gators! As the Golden Gator Rocker lineage grows everyone must continue to remember that you've got to get down, rock hard, and make it happen.

Ripping up down by Ocean Beach

San Francisco has a wide variety of neighborhoods that possess their own individual character. These characteristics help distinguish each one of the small communities that blanket this seven by seven mile urban peninsula. There is no determining which neighborhood is most appealing, except for the Sunset District. It's the only San Francisco neighborhood that doesn't possess a unique and lively attitude. In it's own way the Sunset does standout because it is so dull.

The Sunset District is a miniature suburbia on the west edge of city. It's located just south of Golden Gate Park and just north of San Francisco State University. The dull family-oriented atmosphere in the Sunset is pleasant but cold. Enduring the frequent fog, Sunset San Franciscans (Sunseters) primarily keep to themselves. Sunset Residents have no reason to talk to someone they don't know; so they usually don't.

On the night of March 15th 2008, the Golden Gator Rockers brought the rock to the sunset. At the invitation of our dear friend Nikki Lapage, the Rockers got down in the name of an unearthly demon that was summoned by the horde's collective surge to inspire the residents of The Sunset District. At the corner of 47th Avenue and Irving Street in what San Franciscans call the "outer sunset", the fun began. At 8pm the bands began to turn the heat up with an unrelenting thrill to give the Golden Gator rock hordes the sound they desired.

The first band to play was Scurvy and the Pox, an up and coming band that put the crowd in its place. Like the blue flames heating up on a gas stove top, there was an unspoken anticipation warming up as the next band took the stage. Street Justice played hard, fast and balls out. In a refusal to fade into the soul-less limits of the Sunset District, they created harmonic ruckus. After one song they were done and the hordes were left stupefied.
The next band Black America pleased the garage gods and brought a long awaited east bay influence to the occasion.
As the nighttime fog began to roll in from the Pacific Ocean, Tony Fantano raised his tomahawk high into the air and welcomed low looming clouds. Tatanka Iyotake had played that night for one reason to inspire the Sunset District. In an effort to set the entire Sunset District ablaze in rock n' roll frenzy, Tatanka Iyotake played hard and true. Even though there were not any sudden flames, the souls of everyone in attendance that night burned brightly like a light tower in the lifeless streets of The Sunset District.
As the party ended and the Golden Gator rock hordes dispersed, the thick fog encompassed the night. The soul-powered fire was extinguished by the silence of the Sunset District. Long live Rock n Roll!

If you have the spring break doldrums, check out this choose your own awesome adventure quest in rocker hell.

Enjoy your life.