Entenmann's chocolate covered doughnuts were a staple in the diet of Mike and me. We ate hundreds of the things, so many that I was able to construct a small end table (an Enten-table, if you will) out of the empty boxes.

The advent of foodstamps made the aquisition of this sacred food easier. One night, way past any reasonable time, with Mike and me stationed at the TV ready for Nite Flight, Jeff announced that he and Brian were making a late-night food run. The stamps came out, and Mike requested a box of the chocolate wonders so necessary for a night of TV.

What Jeff came back with was not a box of the prized doughnuts, but a bag of small, hardened powdery things. Mike exclaimed (and I've never known Mike to exclaim anything quietly), "Nooooooooo! Not THESE. People in prison get better doughnuts than THESE!"

If you take the end of one of your fingers, give it a squeeze and hold it there for a few seconds, you'll get an idea of the color of Jeff's head. Not just his face, but his whole head. Looked pretty with a mohawk.

Jeff could only release a stuttered, "They...didn't...fuckin' HAVE ANY!" before he slammed down the stairs and out the door, muttering incoherent bits of curses as he wandered away. Brian followed, with an evil laugh. Mike sat in misery. I ate.

Among the many people who used to frequent the Half Life band house was Spahr, who survived the collapse of punk rock in the 90's and remains a very dear friend to this day. He is also the manager/owner of Brave New World records here in Pittsburgh and if you need anything in the way of hardcore/punk/metal/deathcore of just about any other kind of core, they're the guys to call.

Spahr entered the scene just as the "metal crossover" movement was beginning---metalheads who wanted something faster and more intelligent than the average metal song had to offer, and no ballads.

But there was a period of time during which we, as punks, were pretty much obligated to make fun of anybody with long hair and untied high tops. (And if I can diverge here, it really took Metallica to gain respect for that movement as anything but just another gang of headbangers.)

At any given time, there were several of us in Mike's room (where the TV was) checking out whatever video was on, and at one point WASP came along with "I Wanna Be Somebody". Mike and I start the requisite semi-criticism, and then we noticed Spahr singing along. He actualy liked it (I mean REALLY liked it), and that was his reason for living, at least on that day.

I guess there's no real reason to make fun of that video, since I never had the guts to wear stiletto heals, but there was a fundemental difference between the punk and the metalhead then.