Trombone Player of the Week - Captain Hairmerica

You know, trombonists tend to be a jolly bunch. Typically, they enjoy drinking beer, telling fart jokes, being vaguely sexist, but not usually to the point of actually being labeled "sexist." Generally, good humored, and dimwitted; but they sure do mean well.

But there's always one Captain Hairmerica, as I have dubbed this week's trombone player.

First off, as you can imagine, CH sports a mullet, an absolutely disgusting mullet that is capped to his head like some sort of biologic helmet. But more irritating even than the mullet, is the cocksure sense of self-confidence that he carries about. He always has to be the loudest player, and you can hear his tinny, shitty sound carrying out into the ether of the Baptist church where we practice. Sure, he's not that bad, but the terrible thing is, he knows that. He knows he's not bad, but then again, he hasn't quite grasped the self-awareness that he isn't that good either.

He also dresses in this sort of everyman/Nascar watching/Brett Favre loving way, a nasty sweatshirt reminiscent of "Rocky," and the sort of Wrangler jeans that you would wear if you were off killing a bear, or whatever it is "real" Americans do in their spare time. The worst was last week, when he wore this baseball cap that said "Dam Ship" on it. I think it was from Holland America cruise lines.

Holland America = "hey, that's a foreign country!" = Amsterdam = "Dam" (which is hilarious because, shh, it's a swear word!) = let's put this on a hat because an exact clientele will buy it! = some poor sap will walk around thinking it's the funniest thing he/she has ever seen!

But the most wretched aspect of this week's specimen is his uncanny habit of asking every single ridiculous question you could possibly imagine. I'm sorry my friend, but only a verified idiot would need to clarify that we are indeed, rallentando-ing when "rallentando" is quite obviously written on the music. This is, in fact, the purpose of writing things on the music - you don't have to ask about them, or be confused. Instead, you transmit the information from the page, through your eyeballs, run it by your brain, and spit it out again via your mouth, which is conveniently attached to a trombone. It is clear that the only reason you are asking the question, is so other folks around you can see how perceptive you think you are, and thus be impressed.

This is a false assumption. I am not impressed. Nay, I am the opposite of impressed.

But alas, CH, you have a role to fill, and you fill it well. If only you could buy some more worthless shit to stick on your trombone to brag about, maybe like a little leather grip or a pencil holder, you can fully blossom into the trombonist you were born to become.

Tune in next week, for a gentler trombone player. Dare I say, a "gentle giant."