We got the funk, baby.

Wednesday night, I had the extreme pleasure of going to the House of Blues in Chicago (or as George Carlin calls it, "the House of Lame White Muthafuckas"), to see George Clinton and Funkadelic, who are decidely not lame white muthafuckas. The show was funky as hell from the get go, and I really dug every damn minute of it. I have to give props to my buddy Ryan Boyle, who gave me notification of the upcoming show, and then sprung for tickets. I was glad to see him and his whitebread co-workers there, shakin their respective groove-thangz, albiet slightly off-tempo. But it really doesn't matter, for "If you free your mind, your ass will follow."

Anyway, so George Clinton is known for jamming into the late night hours, and not leaving until the concert hall/arena pulls the plug. I, myself, had never seen this, and I was interested/groovified. Boyle and his work buddies slowly slipped out, one by one, along with a large number of the crowd, until the crowd consisted of me and 50 of my closest "friends" jamming out with George at two in the morning. By then, the Funkadelics didn't give a damn, and just brought a bunch of hot chicks up on stage, to grind and bump, and generally give me one helluva hard-on. Damn, it was hot. Anyway, so they get the chicks off-stage (I don't know WHY), and then jam the night out, including a 25-30 minute rendition of "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin On," that ended with the stage crew taking away George Clinton's Microphone, as he had continued to sing after they unplugged the amplifiers. Even then, the drummer was still going, and the keyboard player came out with a microphone and was fending off a few stage hands, while getting the crowd to chant "We Want The Funk," which we did willingly. They only stopped after the curtain was closed, and even then, the keyboard player kept talking to the audience. It was awesome.

But now I'm off to go get drunk, as it is a Friday, and I am both young AND stupid (and virile, if you're keeping track.) Peace!