About My Friend Mr. Jeff Hannemen

Three Years Ago Today: The Highlight of My Musical “Career”

I'm sticking with the Heinekens, but doing a few shots here and there.
– Jeff Hanneman

I did not have plans to add this post until I saw a memory from 3 years ago pop up in my Facebook feed. It was a scant three years ago when my friend, the better guitar player in Slayer, and notorious recluse Mr. Jeff Hanneman introduced Dick Delicious and the Tasty Testicles add a show in Spartanburg, South Carolina.

At the beach with Jeff Hannemen don't tell me how to ruin my life
As I mentioned in other posts, some of the craziest stories still sitting in a Microsoft Word document. I have a lot of almost unbelievable stories involving Jeff, including but not limited to handing him his guitar (later became my guitar) right before he walked on stage at the Big 4 in Indio California (his last performance with Slayer.)

I shot this video of Jeff Hannemen's final performance in Indio California
Because of my utmost respect for the man both as a human being and a personal hero, I have been holding these tales back (unlike Sebastian Bach or Charlie Sheen). There are a lot of people in heavy metal that claim to be “the real deal, ” but Jeff was true to the core.

There will be more about Mr. Hannemen in future posts.

Until we are again reunited…somewhere “South of Heaven.”

At the rate I'm going, it won't be long.

JQ

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The Sebastian Bach Career Ender Video

 

“Karma, karma, karma, karma, karma chameleon, You come and go, you come and go.” – Boy George

The Sebastian Bach “Career Ender” Sex Tape!

For those who choose to watch this video: Do so at your own discretion! In a unique way, it's equally is haunting as an ISIS execution:

The Sebastian Bach Career Destroyer from Jason Quinlan on Vimeo.

Amended 12/18: it looks like Minnie Gupta filed in DMCA request. That's OK because I was going to take down the video anyways because she explained she had been dealing with harassment from him for the last two years. Honestly, I was going to apologize to her for not getting around to posting it sooner! LOL See: http://forums.metalsludge.tv/forums/viewtopic.php?f=1&t=337966

If you were late to the party, this is what you missed.

The ISIS execution might be going a bit far, but you get my point.

I've had this sitting on my Vimeo account set to private for months. The footage was sent to me by my ex-girlfriend, who went on to date Sebastian Bach a few years after we broke up.

We were friends before we dated for a year and are cool to this day. She's a rad and smart girl, way out of Sebastian's league.

I thought it was an odd combo.

I always sized up Sebastian Bach is being a massive douche bag, but in the few times that I met him, he seemed like he was pretty cool.

After hearing a few horror stories from her, he must've on his best behavior because he knew her ex was present.

Initially, I didn't know why she sent it to me, but then I read he dumped her for some bimbo he just met, married her days later and charged people money to come to his wedding.

Talk about a douche move?

Can't get much douchier!


A friend suggested she was obviously hoping I’d put it on the internet.

Seeing as the whole Charlie Sheen controversy didn't exactly hurt my Alexa and I don't have anything to lose….

I said, “Fuck it” and posted “The Sebastian Bach Career Ender“.

So now I have to ask myself a question?

Am I like Jules from Pulp Fiction, “The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil.” or am I a douchebag blogger taking advantage of a celebrity to get more traffic.

It helps to see people whose life and is more of a mess than mine and to look down on!

jason quinlan hallowen pulp fiction
I know one thing for sure: The world-famous penis chart from Metal Sludge can't be entirely accurate because my dick is way bigger!

Just for fun, we can put this to a vote….

JASON QUINLAN: Douchebag blogger or champion of women's rights?

View Results

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Don’t Me How to Ruin My Online Privacy!

Do You Think This Video Might Have Landed Me on a Terrorist Watchlist?

Just checking in from another lonely night stranded in the Mexican Ghetto.

Last week somebody stole my mountain bike.

No that isn't a punchline to a joke!

I figured while I had already sunk to this level of depravity, I might as well get myself put on the terrorist watchlist for the second time. Now that I think about it, the first round of security antics would be a great topic for the next chapter.

Meanwhile, or somebody turned me on to the Lightbox Firefox Plugin. It allows you to see every website that is monitoring your activity in real time and it's pretty scary.

Check out the video above, and you will see how many eyeballs I had on me just from surfing Facebook and Google. Then I escalated to 12 minutes of surfing jihadist, FBI, ISIS, and NSA websites and you can see the eyeballs multiply exponentially.

I find it pretty scary in 12 minutes I caught the attention of both the US Government and Radical Islam.

Since we are on the subject, even as broke as I am, there was no way I could pass up this deal. Do you have a private VPN for only $2.45 a month and is a pretty impressive thing.

I don't think they are holding this deal for much longer so get in while you can….

pure vpn ad 2017Peace 2017,

JQ

How I Got Into Dealing Drugs

Preamble: Quick note before I get started. Mom, Dad or anyone in my family reading this, please exit the browser now. The events detailed in this post were a long, long time ago. Sandra McCarthy don't get excited and try to drop dime again because I can hardly afford my own drugs these days, much less sell them.

As I had mentioned in my previous post, in moving back and forth across the country, coupled with a computer crash, and nerve damage, I thought I lost the raw 180 pages of “my glory days” from the first draft of the book.

Luckily, I searched my Gmail and found an email I had sent to myself from July of 2016, so I'm fairly sure, I have the whole thing again.

Bad old days, here we come!

Chapter 4: How I Got Into Dealing Drugs

“People don't sell drugs, drugs sell themselves.” – Chris Rock


Like porn, drug dealing was never anything I had considered doing for a living. It found me. Drugs were my chief source of income from the early to late 1990's.

I've always been a stoner. I smoked pot five or six times when I was 13 before I ever got high, but I loved it. When I lived in Connecticut, we'd get our parents to dp us off roller skating, then we would sneak out to the graveyard, smoke joints and play ice hockey. I can remember the first time I actually felt the effects and have been a committed stoner since.

At 18, one of the things I was looking forward to in Georgia was the vast difference in weed prices. In Connecticut, a quarter was $60 and not high quality. In Atlanta, a quarter of weed was $40 and slightly better.

There was a hitch, every year during the end of summer ATL would “go dry, ” and marijuana would be impossible to find. That July I moved there was the worst drought on record. Finding a nug would be like finding a brick of gold.

It was that bad.

Once I had my truck unpacked, my next order of business was scoring a bag. Crazy Chris called a few of his pot dealers, but everyone was out. That year, I can remember the police erecting billboards on the interstate stating, “you think it's dry this year, wait till next year” with a big marijuana leaf and international no sign.

I was frustrated and sober.

One of the first days in Atlanta, I was going to see where my mailbox was in my apartments, this older black guy in a car drove up and asked me if I was looking for weed. I responded, “Hell, yeah.” I had the cash; he took off his hat with a bunch of 1/8th bags rolled up in it and I bought one. He lived in my same apartment complex, gave me his number and said call him if I need more. I strutted back to my building with my first half-price Georgia dirt-weed. Everyone was dumbfounded “the new guy” could find weed, where the locals had failed.

Within an hour I am back at his apartment scoring a bag for Crazy Chris and then a few hours later, for Chris's friends, who I didn't even know. I started making 3 or 4 runs per day to the dealers' place. For a few days, I got the sacks for people without making a profit other than they'd smoke me out or give me a joint. As the week went on, people kept calling, so I proactively bought an ounce. I figured I could sell three-quarters and get my weed free. After another week I started making a lot of “new friends” because I was the only guy who could score weed. Eventually, knowing that business was incoming. I bought 2 ounces, 2 became 3, and soon I'd moved up to a “QP” (quarter pound).


Without knowing it, I had become a drug dealer.

I had a few “regular” quote jobs too. I worked at UPS for a while unloading trucks. I also used to work for my friend “Johnny Cold Beer” installing carpet. I will save those debacles for another chapter, as they were adventures in themselves.

Between working, selling drugs, partying and my girlfriend Beverly that had just moved up from Connecticut, I had my hands full. I never went to many classes at school and dropped out in the first quarter. I already knew some pretty advanced music theory just from years of reading guitar magazines, so everything at school was a refresher.

While I was working at UPS, I met this guy Spencer who had a similar side hustle. He had a better connection than the guy at my apartment building, so together, we graduated from “QPs” to pounds.

Some guys from Kentucky tried to stick us with a few pounds of really moldy dirt weed with maggots and it during the dry spell the second summer. We told them we didn't want this shit, and they could have it back. They refused, Spencer knew one of them had a big grow operation in the back of his house, so one October morning after work, just as it was time for harvest, we went to his greenhouse and chopped down all the flowering weed. We cruised down Peachtree Industrial Highway in rush hour traffic with marijuana plants darting out of every orifice and Spencer's compact car. Keep in mind; this was long before the tolerant medical marijuana years; this was 1991 Georgia: In the eyes of the law we were carrying a life sentence in Reidsville State Penitentiary.

Not long after I quit UPS.

Besides from working with Johnny a bit from time to time, I never had a “real job” again.

After a while, I lost touch with Spencer and was introduced to “Hippy John.” John was involved at a higher-level than Spencer. He was arranging shipments of hundreds of pounds of weed from Mexico. He became my new connection, and I was his right-hand man. We dominated the ATL pot market by having “mids,” which was HQ weed but not as expensive as hydroponic, and far better than the cheaper Mexican dirt weed. The best thing about “mids” was they had the highest profit margin and demand.

By 1995, Dick Delicious wanted to play a lot more shows out-of-town, so I wanted to solidify my income. I had a truck that I barely drove so I sold it for $3000 and picked up 3 ounces of the blow. I didn't know if I'd have any luck selling it, but within 48 hours the cocaine was gone, and I was re-upping. I don't like cocaine that much, so I made for a good coke dealer.

Say what you want about the morality of dealing drugs, but many people have asked me how I got so “good at business.”

I learned it by selling drugs.

From my stint as a drug dealer, I can do even relatively complex math calculations in my head. For example, if I bought X per ounce of blow then I could Break it up into to X, Y and Z at know what the profits were from each. Selling drugs is a service industry, and a big part of it was just being available and in stock.

For a brief time, I tried to sell ecstasy because coke clients often wanted ecstasy as well. What I've noticed is cocaine cancels ecstasy out. You just stopped rolling (that's no fun). I found myself buying a hundred pills and giving 80 of them away to chicks at parties when I was rolling my face-off. I was a shitty ecstasy dealer, so I didn't mess with it long.

The funny thing was for all the drugs I've dealt the only trouble I ever got into was for personal possession. While I was in jail, Hippy John kept supplying my girlfriend with the mids, so I never missed a beat.


When I got out of prison, I briefly considered going straight and getting a real job, but the problem with being a convicted felon on probation is no one wants to hire you. So I jumped back into drugs with both feet, this time with the threat of probation looming over my head.

I went another two years or so slanging hard, during this period that my Internet porn career was starting to take flight. I eventually approached my suppliers and told them that I wanted to get out of the game because I was making more money legally. Because I had always been trustworthy, paid cash, and could move product — they didn't want me to leave. So they made me an offer I couldn't refuse.

No, it wasn't a death threat.

They offered to make my life easier! They set me up so all I would have to was pick up an enormous amount about once per month. I had three guys, I could trust, so I immediately split it up between them. When 30 days or so would pass I would collect my money, restock, rinse and repeat.

Finally, I decided to move to California. I went to my suppliers and told them I was out of the business and this time I meant it. To placate them I made the introduction to the two guys that I had distributing for me, thereby cutting myself out as the middleman. To this day, they are still in the game, as far as I know.


Now with that out-of-the-way, I had a few more loose ends to tie up. I had this big envelope full of cash in my room. To be honest, I never counted it, but I assumed it contained something like $2000 or $3000. My girlfriend and I had mostly used it as drinking money when we went out to bars. The night before I counting it and my estimate was way off! There was over $20,000 that envelope. I had heard of the crime of structuring deposits (anything over $10,000 must be reported to the IRS). So we took the money and deposited it $5000 at a time into separate ATMS.

I never got caught.

Ever since then, I've been a buyer, not a retailer.

And that was how I got into dealing drugs.

JQ

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Join the discussion on Reddit:

How I Got Into Dealing Drugs from Drugs

The Next Four Years Should Be Interesting…

Sorry for the brief hiatus from updating this blog.

My Mac got a virus.

Yes, Macs can get viruses.

I thought I lost the entire 180 pages I had written.

Luckily, I searched my Gmail and found what I think was the last draft of the book.

Get ready for more of the bad old days.

I better get this thing published before Donald Trump gets in office or the moon collides with a half-dead earth.

Whichever comes first.

Till then, enjoy this white lady racist remix.

Now that I cannot play guitar…

I have too much time on my hands.

JQ

If You Don’t Have Anything Good to Say: Don’t Say It?

The Descent Continues

Let me see…last three years have been a downward spiral. I lost my house, car, got run over by a truck, lost ability to play guitar (probably the biggest blow), insurance, my bike, got my identity stolen, can't go to the gym anymore because of this stupid Ulnar nerve injury, I had to go to court 5 times to beat a completely frivolous civil complaint (even though I won, I lost after lawyer fees, don't really have a place to live, I can't feel half of my right hand — I'm sure there's more suffering lost in the haze. People always want to blame drugs or alcohol. All my “friends” have left me for dead.

I was expecting that.

The fact is, you don't see me. I'm a recluse. I don't like people. You don't know what the fuck I do. I've been the soberest I've ever been in my life: IT SUCKS!

As far as the rest goes: I don't steal, I'm a man of my word, I have a good work ethic, I help people when I can…

I can tell you what day all of the started and spiraled downward: October 8th, 2013:

Fuck all you greedy bastards.

No matter what I try to do life just sucks more and more. Suicide doesn't even interest me. I'm a sadomasochist I want to see how much I can suffer.

I'm sure there are some schadenfreude human-trafficking motherfuckers out there reading this with the enjoyment.

It not like I want my life to suck, no matter what I do life just keeps smacking me down.

People say “it's all up from here”, but is it?

Really?

The was no point to this article.

Just venting.

#FML

Life In A Mexican Ghetto: Going Back To Cali

I'm going back to Cali, Cali, Cali
I'm going back to Cali – no man I don't think so

– LL Cool J

the real cerberus from your pretty face is going to hell photo

Sorry, I haven't updated this blog in a while, but life has been more tumultuous than normal. I've promised many times that this blog would be a re-accounting of my past, and someday I'll get to that, but when your current life is more fucked up than the shit-show of the past 44 years: That's a bold statement!

Let's do a quick recap because I'm quite sure there's a lot I left out. While I was waiting for the short-sale on my house through Keller Williams. The house had been in short sale negotiations for a while but hadn't reached escrow (or so I was told). I figured I would have at least 60 days to figure out what I was going to do once it went into escrow.

On August 29, Kellar Williams called me and asked if I could be out by the 15th. I asked what happened to telling me about escrow? He made up some bullshit story, and I reminded him that wasn't giving me a hell a lot of time to figure out what I was going to do with my life. He said he would try to buy me some more time and then called me back a few minutes later and asked if I could be out by the 16th.

I've told him, “Jesus fucking Christ, what's the difference?”

So I had to make a plan and make it fast. I figured I would go back to Atlanta where I am more respected as a musician and get back into playing music, maybe even get Dick Delicious back together, and keep on doing the Internet marketing thing. Since I had stayed there many times in the past and for the next three years would not have enough credit to get an apartment I hastily called the Highland Inn in Atlanta to see if they have any rooms open. It's one of those extended stay hotels, it's in a pretty decent neighborhood, and they have free Wi-Fi.

I sold off most of my belongings except for some guitars, amps, computers and clothes. I had about $13,000. I figured I could live on that for a while. So come the 15th, I loaded up a U-Haul behind my 2002 Expedition and started the cross-country trek from Los Angeles to Atlanta which didn't go as smoothly as planned. The day I arrived in Atlanta I noticed I didn't have any feeling in two of my fingers on my left hand. It wound up I had a compressed ulnar nerve and would need surgery. To this day, this is the worst event of my entire life. I can no longer play guitar, and despite the surgery, the symptoms have not improved as of the writing of this blog.

Also, on the first day in Atlanta they have a big Black Lives Matter protest that blocked off the highway. Here is a picture I shot from my Bicycle off one of the bridges that wound up all over Twitter.

Atlanta black lives matter protesters block highway

It was okay back in Atlanta. That is where all my real friends are anyways, of course, in the past 15 years everyone's gotten older and mellowed out quite a bit, and that really didn't bother me. I concentrated on getting my Internet marketing career going again.

After a few unsuccessful attempts at correcting my nerve damage with the chiropractor, I finally went into surgery, and they told me I might feel normal and 18 months to two years, But they couldn't even promise that.

jaso quinlan ulrar nevrve surgery

Two days after leaving the hospital, I went to brush my teeth one morning and was trying to spit up a giant lugee. I couldn't understand why I couldn't spit it up, so after clearing my mouth of toothpaste, I noticed my tonsils were the size of golf balls. I immediately went to a nearby walk-in clinic, and they told me I had tonsillitis which I probably picked up in the hospital. If the swelling didn't go down, I would require another surgery. They gave me some steroids and antibiotics and fortunately they worked, and the swelling subsided, thus dodging going under the knife again.

Sometime over the next few days, I logged into my bank account and saw that it was at negative $888,888.00. My first thoughts were that the IRS had gotten me. I knew I owed them some money, but by doing the math there's no way it could've been not much, so I began the four-hour process of trying to contact Bank of America.

It wound up, in my haste to move, I left a checkbook because someone got a hold of it and started writing bad checks until they had completely drained my bank account. I was able to log into my online banking and find all the bad checks. After a week or so it was resolved, and the money was put back in my account.

Of course, I couldn't stay holed-up my room hacking away on my computer I had to get out and socialize occasionally. From time to time I would visit my favorite local bar the Highlander, but only once a week or so. After my operation and up to now I have not been able to go to the gym or ride a bike as it puts even more undue stress on my damaged nerve.


One day, my friend Juan hit me up and asked me if I wanted to go out and get a few drinks. We got drunk but not THAT DRUNK He was right around the corner, so I went and met him at the bar. We hit the Virginia Highlands and then I returned to the Highland Inn.

The Highland Inn his old school. They have these metal keys for your door. For the last week the metal had fatigued on my key and almost broke off a few times. I should've had it replaced, but I didn't want to be a pain in the balls. That night after returning from the bar I put my key in the door, and the metal on the key started to break. I managed to wiggle the key out of the door before it broke off completely and went down to the front desk to get a new key.

When I reached the front desk there was no one there, but I could hear some guy playing guitar and singing Bob Dylan songs in the back room, and I tried to yell to get his attention for a good 10 minutes to no avail. So I got aggravated and figured I would give it one more try.

I went back to my room and wiggled with the half broken key for a good 10 minutes fighting with the lock and couldn't get it to budge. Finally, out of exhaustion, I just sat down next to my door and said I would try it again or go back to the desk in a few minutes. I sat down, and I fell asleep in front of my door.

Eventually, somebody came by and let me in, and I finally got some sleep. When I woke up the next morning, a note had been slipped under my door saying that I must check out immediately. Of course, I didn't have a Plan B. So I called my friend Shane Morton, and he let me crash at his house for a few days.

It became apparent to me between the nerve damage, tonsillitis, bouncing checks, and forced evictions that Atlanta doesn't want me back. So I decided to move back to California. I have a friend who was kind enough to offer a place to stay if I moved back. She is the bartender at The Rainbow (my favorite bar in LA).

After staying at Shane's for a few nights, I caught a flight back to California. This time, I wouldn't be living in some 2.2M home, I am staying smack dab in the middle of a Mexican Ghetto in West Hollyhood. To be honest, it's no big deal (or at least not yet).

One thing I have learned about life: Material things is not that important. Because as soon as you start owning a lot of stuff, your stuff owns you.

Where do I go from here?

I haven't a clue.

If you would like to help me keep writing so I don't have to keep sneaking into Starbucks for WIFI and can actually order of mocha Frapuccino, donations are always appreciated!

jason quinlan paypal

Morgan Mcnerney: Transexual Pornographer Newport Beach

Morgan Mcnerney Is a Tranny Pornographer Residing In Newport Beach, CA

Amended 2/2/2016: At Mogan's urging, I had originally decided to take this post down, but I've been thinking about it and weather he made the comment or not: Where was your mercy and compassion October 8th, 2013? You could have broke the vote that ultimately ruined my life, but you didn't: SO FUCK YOU! Even more ironic, being fired from a company for having a “drug  problem” BY people with drug problems!

In case you haven't noticed, I've been going through a severe bout of depression. I recently lost all sensation in my left arm driving across the country after losing my house which I worked my ass off for. This is what one of my dickhead business partners Morgan Mcnerney, of Newport Beach had to say on the matter:

Screen Shot 2016-09-07 at 7.48.54 PMI was shocked at the insensitivity this bastard had, considering I haven't spoken a word to him in almost four years, so I fired back, and there was a small verbal melee, you can read it if you want it's nothing that great. I admit to a couple of misspellings because I have to rely on Dragon Dictate these days to type.

The real purpose of this post is I want the people of Newport Beach to know the transsexual pornographer that lives in their midst. This is a picture of Morgan Mcnerney I found publicly available on his Google+.


A picture of Morgan Mcnerney Morgan Mcnerney Newport Beach-pornographer-chronic-Weed-and-pill-addict
A real piece of shit? Right?

Let me make this clear; I am not threatening Morgan with any physical harm. However, I rely on Facebook advertising to earn a living, and he got my account banned for 30 days for posting a picture of his ugly mug. I figured if he had the balls to make a comment like that, the least I can do is return the favor and post a picture of the face of the guy who had the fortitude to be so insensitive.

I figured there isn't anything I can do to him, so I may as well make his life hell on Google so he can't even get a job at McDonald's. This idiot has the gall to call himself a "graphic designer" but his chronic pot smoking impaired in from even trying to learn CSS in till it least 2010 even though cascading style sheets had become the web standard going back as far as 1997.

And just for your information, Morgan Mcnerney is a peddler of straight, gay and transsexual pornographic material and is responsible for the creation of the websites and the content contained therein. Morgan tries to keep a low-key profile blending in with the other rich snobs in Newport Beach. When, in fact, if the neighborhood Association knew what he did for a living, they would have him run out of the exclusive country club community in seconds flat.

This is the corporation he is currently a member of that produces transsexual and "straight" hardcore pornography and puts it up on "tube sites" even though Morgan has a young child shouldn't be exposed to.

Source:
http://nvsos.gov/sosentitysearch/CorpDetails.aspx?lx8nvq=%252fq08HwOTopg7i7TBm2vyvw%253d%253d

 Business Entity Information
Status:  Active File Date:  9/9/2009
Type:  Domestic Limited-Liability Company Entity Number:  E0484132009-2
Qualifying State:  NV List of Officers Due:  9/30/2016
Managed By:  Managers Expiration Date:
NV Business ID:  NV20091103677 Business License Exp:  9/30/2016

 

 Additional Information
Central Index Key:

 

 Registered Agent Information
Name:  LARRY L. BERTSCH, CPA & ASSOCIATES, LLP Address 1:  265 E WARM SPRINGS RD STE 104
Address 2: City:  LAS VEGAS
State:  NV Zip Code:  89119
Phone: Fax:
Mailing Address 1:  7582 LAS VEGAS BLVD SO #449 Mailing Address 2:
Mailing City:  LAS VEGAS Mailing State:  NV
Mailing Zip Code:  89123
Agent Type:  Commercial Registered Agent - Limited-Liability Partnership
Jurisdiction:  NEVADA Status:  Active
View all business entities under this registered agent

 

 Financial Information
No Par Share Count:  0 Capital Amount:  $ 0
No stock records found for this company

 

 Officers  Include Inactive Officers
 Manager - 9090-7247 QUEBEC INC DBA KB PRODUCTIONS INC
Address 1:  70 BIRCHVIEW Address 2:
City:  DOLLARD DES ORMEAUX QC State:
Zip Code:  H9A 2Y4 Country:  CAN
Status:  Active Email:
 Manager - JOHN BAUMGARTNER
Address 1:  360 E DESERT INN RD UNIT 804 Address 2:
City:  LAS VEGAS State:  NV
Zip Code:  89109 Country:  USA
Status:  Active Email:
 Manager - MORGAN MCNERNEY
Address 1:  339 PEACH TREE LANE Address 2:
City:  NEWPORT BEACH State:  CA
Zip Code:  92660 Country:  USA
Status:  Active  Hey

More proof:
http://www.salon.com/2001/07/03/webmaster/

Causes Morgan cares about these are the things that Morgan claims to care about on his LinkedIn page which all are a bunch of bullshit just so the child protective services don't call me and take his child. The only thing that Morgan cares about his marijuana, Pornography, fast cars, alcohol, and it has been arrested two times in of Orange County.

  • Animal Welfare - yeah right
  • Arts and Culture - doesn't know how to use a crayon
  • Children - un-fit father
  • Education - high school dropout
  • Environment - as long as there's slogan his lungs
  • Health - see above
  • Human Rights -as long as it involves growing marijuana in his backyard
  • Politics - now that's a laugh
  • Science and Technology - Morgan has barely made enough technical progress to make it out of the Stone Age

Thursday 8/18/2016: The Worst Day of My Life!

They got a name for the winners in the world
I want a name when I lose
They call Alabama the Crimson Tide
Call me Deacon Blues – Steely Dan

Jason Quinlan on guitar in Los AngelesThursday Was The Worst Day of My Life By A Long-Shot!

I've been through a lot of hard shit lately, but this week, by far, has been the most difficult pill to swallow: I am officially done as a guitar player, which has been my life lifelong ambition and one real passion.

photo of ulner nerve surgery
After losing my house in California, I was forced to drive across the country with the few things that I wanted to keep: My guitars, amps, computers and other musical equipment.

One of my big reasons for coming to Atlanta was because, even though I was in bands in LA, I always just joined just to keep up my chops, not because I was particularly into what they were doing musically. I always had to be playing. Even if I wasn't jamming in a band, I would pick up the guitar for at least a half hour a day to practice. Despite all the craziness and my detour into porn, I have always considered myself (above all things) a guitar player. I think if you Google my name it even suggests it. I figured I could move to Atlanta, join a few bands, and slowly start piecing my life back together.

Jason Quinlan practicing guitar in Los Angeles

Of course, I would never have that kind of luck. My drive from Los Angeles to Atlanta was loaded with detours and road construction. I should've known I had bad luck in the mail when on the second day I went to adjust the driver's side mirror, and it just fell into the highway and smashed. The 35-hour drive turned into a 45-hour drive.

By the time I was on my third day, I was still west of the Mississippi. I decided that no matter how long I had to drive, I was going to reach Atlanta. I drove from 10 AM that morning until 1 AM the next day without stopping once, except to refuel and grab a coffee and gummy bears.

By the time I reached Atlanta, I was exhausted, but glad I finally made it. I immediately crashed out for a few hours and then when I woke up, I took my beloved ESP Guitar (which belonged to Jeff Hanneman) and tried to play a few notes. My ring finger was half numb, and I couldn't feel my pinky at all. I had lost all dexterity in both fingers and didn't even have the strength to push the strings down with my left hand.

I'm left-hand dominant; I just play guitar right-handed for some reason.

At first, I blew it off, thinking it was just my body tired from the drive, but after a few days, it didn't get better. I decided to go to a chiropractor, after a few adjustments, he told me if I hadn't seen any improvement at all I should see an orthopedist.

I had already been doing some googling, and I had correctly diagnosed myself with a “compressed Ulnar nerve“.

In the meantime, some asshole found one of my old checkbooks I left at my house in California and thoroughly emptied my bank account to $0 (-$500 actually). I am still trying to straighten that out with the bank.

This past Thursday I went into the Emory Spine and Orthopedic Center to get checked out.

You know you were in trouble when you go to the doctor, and the first thing he says is, “Oh shit!”

Apparently, I have some of “the worst Ulnar nerve damage” he's ever seen. Oddly enough, it was the driver's side door from Los Angeles to Atlanta that did me in. Too many hours of it bumping around on the door compressed something in my elbow and impinged the nerve.


I'm going in for surgery on Tuesday, but it's a “Hail Mary”, best case scenario 18 months to 2 years recovery time, but I'm likely never to recover because the nerve is already dead and the muscle in my hand has already begun to atrophy. I know, the same thing happened to Dave Mustaine, that was in 2002 when he could heal quicker as well.

Of a lot of hard days I've had lately, Thursday was by far the worst.

In case any of you motherfuckers thought I was a slouch on guitar: I could play even the best under the table. I was going to put together a compilation of guitar solos, but it is emotionally too much for me to handle right now. Here's just a taste, follow the link to the video for more:


Discography:

Personal Soundcloud: – https://soundcloud.com/jason-quinlan (a little bit of everything with a lot of unreleased home recordings)

Dick Delicious and Tasty Testicleshttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2O-sDvLN_o&list=PL72xSCDRz8gKY5DPYV-I9_eKqeEcgu8Sn(perhaps the band I'm best known for)

The Despised: https://www.facebook.com/despisedatlanta/ – A Punk band featuring Atlanta comedy kingpin Rodney Leete. I wrote all the hit songs but got none of the credit. Now my music career is over, they say comedy comes from a place of pain, I have plenty of that.

Bath Salts Cannibals: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLflmlm4r2SuRkvL4_Wx93vcEr0LgXxrj2 – Thrash project that was struck down before it had a chance to bud because the other guitarist developed cubital tunnel syndrome (ironically).

The Spo-It's: https://www.reverbnation.com/thespoits – This band has been kicked out of more clubs in the Southeast than GG Allin.

Operation and Asparagus: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLflmlm4r2SuTXjM_GxrcvDwUi9j1eoOrU – These are all home recordings with me playing every instrument. No particular genre but there're a few hits, perhaps best known for “Ballad of Mr. Marcus” and “Real Men Get Drunk On Tuesday.”

Kreephttp://www.kreeponline.com/ – Los Angeles Project with singer Brett from the band Bile.

Rumble Pig Version 1 & Version 2 – only audio/video record avaialable here.

COV – spare your ears, Lamb of God wannabes.

So that's my musical “career” in a nutshell. Maybe I'll try comedy for a minute, if not, I'm going out like my man HST.

It's not like I make money writing this. Donations are always appreciated! 🙂

jason quinlan paypal

‪JQ

Don’t Tell Me I Can’t End My Life!

“I would feel real trapped in this life if I didn't know I could commit suicide at any time.” ― Hunter S. Thompson

Check fraud Jason Quinlan
Just when you think life can't kick you in the teeth any worse, it does.

Quick recap…

1. I was completely screwed over by my piece of shit partners. That was three years ago and the beginning of my descent.

2. 2015 happened.

3. I lost my dream house, and now I'm living homeless after moving back to Atlanta.

4. The day I returned I couldn't feel any sensation in my left fingers; they were weak, and I have lost all motor skills. It winds up I came down with “cubital tunnel syndrome“, most likely caused by having my arm resting on the driver's side door on the three day trip across the country. Despite what all the trolls and the haters are saying in the comments of the blog my three favorite things to do in life is going to the gym, mountain biking and playing guitar. I haven't been able to do any of this stuff in two months, and it's likely I never will again.

5. Today I found out that I have been the victim of check fraud (see above) and what little money I had left is completely gone.

In the meantime, Charlie Sheen, who is easily 1000 times more evil of a person than I ever thought of being is slowly becoming a hero and an AIDS activist and that makes me vomit.

I still have so many more stories to tell of my “glory days,” Some of them are funny, and I probably should stick around long enough to re-account them, but at this point, I don't even feel like I'm living for pretending like there were any “good old days.”

I'm just existing.

I can exist anywhere. Right now I would prefer to be 6 feet below the ground.

If there is anyone out there, please remove the albatross from my neck or just let me die. I am beyond taking it anymore.

As a caveat, I have a bunch of stupid motherfucking trolls that ride my nuts in the comments of this blog. I am sure they will try to blame this on drugs or alcohol. The fact is, I've been basically sober for over a year now (for the most part). I suppose you are going to blame the cubital tunnel syndrome and the check fraud on the drugs?

Before you start doing that, I've made up a nice batch of blue Kool-Aid for you.

Drink it.

If you would like to help me keep writing so I don't have to keep sneaking into Starbucks for WIFI and can actually order of mocha Frapuccino, donations are always appreciated!

jason quinlan paypal

JQ