Ok, I'm going to tell you guys how I came up with the name "Paul and the Violent Farmers".
I was drunk at the bar one night and my friend Amy says "Hey I have a great name for your act- Paul and the Violent Farmers". I was drunk so I probably would have liked any name anyone gave me, so I said I loved it and went to puke in the trash can. It has stuck with me ever since (the name not the puke).
So that's the story. Not to exciting, so that's why I need your help. I need a cool origin for my band name. Someone always asks where I came up with the name, and my story is always the same lame one I just told you, so I need something that will make 'em say "Holly crap, no wonder you call yourself that". If you come up with a story I use, I'll send you a t-shirt and mention you in the liner notes for my first album when I get it made. Hell, I might even use them all and just tell a different story every time someone asks.
I'll give you a starting point:
"I was drunk at the bar one night, and... "
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I was drunk at the bar one night and noticed a group of rednecks playing pool in the back of the bar. I stumbled over to them and put down a stack of quarters for the next game. All the sudden this 6 or 7 foot tall corn-fed hoosier walks up and says, "This table's reserved for Ag students only." I slurred, "For your information, I was president of my high school's Future Farmers of America club." Bubba gets this wild look in his eye and says, "If you're a farmer, then I'm a 5 foot tall Chinese guy lookin' to get his ass kicked." So I punched him square in the nose and yelled, "We don't want your kind around here!" Then his overall-wearin' buddies proceded beat me like an Oriental rug. When I woke up in the alley, my friend Amy was standing over me telling the cops about what happened between Paul and the Violent Farmers in the bar. I smiled, spit up some blood, and thanked her for naming my act.
I was on my to LA via Omaha when I popped a tire on empty piece of Nebraska highway. Corn stretched out as far as I could see in all directions. Nightfall was near so I put out some flares and settled down to wait for another vehicle to happen by.
I should have know there was trouble brewing when I tried to tune in a radio station. I could only pick up two stations. One had Rush Limbaugh chortling and repeating "Clinton's Penis" over and over. The other had Dr. Laura berating young female callers. "This not how a mature woman acts. You are just a giggly little girl."
I snapped the radio off and grew anxious as the darkness settled upon me.
Suddenly three farmers (well, they said they were farmers. Looked more like amish kids to me) slinked out of the cornfield and stood in the light of the flares.
They quizzed me about my misfortune. Then the small one whose eyes seemed like sparks sent one of others back into the corn. He returned about five minutes later with a brand new tire for me. I tossed them the keys and in a jiffy they had my old tire in the trunk and the new one ready to go.
I pulled out my check book and approached the small one who seemed to be in charge. He said, " We will accept no money."
"But I'd like to pay you for your trouble"
His eyes sparked again. They seemed to almost be glowing. "Oh, you will pay. But not with your heathen currency."
As his words landed so did his two cohorts. They jumped on my back and sent me sprawling into the ditch at the small one's feet. They began punching at my back and neck.
As fear and revulsion welled up in my throat I threw them from my back. I spun in the ditch and kicked the small one's feet out from under him. I jumped one him and grabbed for my keys. His eyes lost their spark and he spat words at me through the struggle. "We just want you to take us to town and buy us some malt liquor."
It turns out, violent farmers of all ages love malt liquor.
I was drunk at bar one night. Really, really drunk.
My friend Amy asked if I had thought of a name for my act. In fact I had, and in a Inna Gadda Da Vida-like moment I said what sounded to Amy very much like "Violent Farmers".
To this day I don't remember what the name was supposed to be.
Man these are great, I'm going to have to make more t-shirts. I like the Amish theme.
I'm also kind of partial to the idea of being so drunk people kept misunderstanding what I was saying. It kind of adds a whole "What the hell did I realy say" thing to it.
Keep em coming guys
Seamhead, if the farmers wanted me to buy them malt liquor, why the hell did they jump me?
VF, I don't know. They're crazy kids. I think the first question should be: what the hell are these kids doing in a cornfield?
How did you know I was resourseful cat?
I was drunk at the bar one night and.... shit, I never get drunk!
Anyway, I like the name as it is. Please send me a t-shirt.
Diva how much would it cost me to get a t-shirt sent to you? If it's not to much I'll hook you up. Maybe a CD would be cheaper to send?
Just tell me where I can download the mp3s... that'll cost you zip :)
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