Explanation of what this is

There are hundred's of waiters that call themselves actor's. That guy making your soy frappucino is a musician. You know that because he tell's you almost daily. So from this day forward I will call myself a writer. I may make money on the television and radio but I am choosing to call myself a writer.
From what I can tell in order to call myself a "writer" I need to do one thing.......write

Ive been blessed to have so many jobs from MTV's Headbangers Ball , WCW Wrestling,NASCAR TV & Radio host, Creator of some of the most succesful nightclubs in L.A mainly the CATHOUSE,3 years on Loveline,Talk Radio Host, reality shows from Daisy of Love, Charm School and the Rock of Love Reunions. Ive seen some of my friends become the biggest rock stars in the world. I have interviewed 1000's of the most unique people from sports and entertainment. Ya the boasting is making me sick too.
Ive also lost everything, filed for bankruptcy and had to get a job as a car salesman just to keep the lights on. That is what I do and what I have done but that is not who I am.

One more thing. Kid's or very sensitive folk should not read my blog's just in case I say something a tad risque.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Why I'm messed up and a watered down CATHOUSE History lesson

I know I am very lucky to be where I am. I have a great house,family ,cars and motorcycles and what most people don't realize most of my income comes from my work in NASCAR. That's a whole other story. When you work in the carnivorous world of entertainment your biggest fear is not being relevant.
Add the fact that  actors and musicians are the most insecure people on the planet. Somehow we have found a way to be insecure and conceited at the same time. Don't ask me why but that's just the way it goes.

     We are all terrified of becoming a "Where are they now". We don't want to live in the past even if the past is really fuckin cool. I realize that even though the show ended in 1995 to many I will always be "The guy from Headbangers Ball" I used to hate the fact that no matter what career I ventured into I was still that guy from Headbangers. These days I wear it like a badge of honor. I am lucky that I have been able to move forward in my career rather than hang on like a relic, having nothing else but my past "Hey do you know who I used to be".

    I had told the story so many times I thought everyone knew it but what I failed to accept was how many years,no decades have gone by. I received several posts on twitter asking if the Cathouse was still open.

  The answer is no and for those of you that do not know what the Cathouse is here is a very watered down story. One day I will tell the whole story or at least what I can remember. Yes I am pasting this from the www.cathousehollywood.com website so even this was written 7 years ago

It was 1986, 4 years before I hosted Headbangers Ball on MTV or began to work on the radio. With no money I persuaded a bar to let me turn it into a dance club that would only play rock n roll. I wanted a place my friends could hang out at and hey if my roomate Taime and I could meet a few new girls that would be ok. Yeah lame but Im honest. The club said yes and the Cathouse was born.
The Cathouse was opened in 1986 in Hollywood I threw some vintage burlesque videos on the wall and asked Taime Downe (from Faster Pussycat) if he could help get the word out. I found Joseph Brooks of Vinyl Fetish fame and he became the DJ with his blend of 80's rock 70's glam and punk a mood was set. The club at that time was held at an old Disco on La Cienega. The club was a wreck. It was a risk just walking up the stairs but once up the stairs you found yourself in a Shangra la's of Decadence. The original idea was to just have a DJ.
The GRAND OPENING........sucked. However Lita Ford puked in the bathroom!
I kept it going to crowds of about 70-80. Every Tuesday night the crowds got a little bigger. Among that small crowd was Guns n Roses, Aerosmith, Motley Crue, Ted Nugent and more. So a bunch of girls heard that the bands were hanging out at the Cathouse so the woman began to show up actually outnumbering men. When that got around more bands started showing up....then some friends asked if they could play at the club for their EP record release party... I said yes. That band was called Guns n Roses. Then Taimes band Faster Pussycat wanted to play that night and so did LA GUNS and Jetboy! My first live performance at the Cathouse and those 4 bands played. Taime started focusing on his band and all I had was the Cathouse. With its reputation more and more bands wanted to play this so called rock dance.  It was getting out of hand. The Cathouse became the cool place to go. Axl would mention the club in interviews. Faster Pussycat recorded a song called Cathouse. Then media picked up on our little club  LA TIMES did a cover story called GUNS N ROSES and the CATHOUSE SCENE , Would you believe even NEWSWEEK wrote about the club. Many of the local bands were now selling millions of records but kept on playing at the Cathouse. Soon other bands asked to play here. Alice in Chains, Stone Temple Pilots, Motorhead, Megadeth, Alice Cooper, Danzig, Pearl Jam, Black Crowes, Junkyard, Primus, LA Guns, White Zombie, ICE T, Suicidal Tendencies, Pantera the list goes on and on.
For some reason we always had more women than men at the club. Believe it or not fashion magazines saw the women in their decadent attire and thought we were starting a worldwide trend. The Cathouse was featured in Women's Wear Daily and California Apparel News.
When the movie the "Decline of Western Civilization 2 - the Metal Years" wanted to capture the rock scene they did a whole segment on the Cathouse. BAM. More media attention. We also had a rule of not letting anyone take pictures in the club. That way everyone could feel at ease and not worry about it in the paper the next day. Does anyone remember the night Axl chased David Bowie down the street? How about Malcolm Forbes showing up on a Harley or Christina Applegate working coatcheck or Slash falling down the stairs taking a fake tree with him while he was wearing a Cathouse security shirt or how about Depeche Mode going to the Cathouse when the instore they had planned turned into a riot. They knew nobody would bug them at the Cathouse.
Needless to say the CATHOUSE truly became a part of rock history. The funny thing is the bands that played at the Cathouse are only a small part of what made Riki Rachtman's World Famous Cathouse...World Famous

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

My first college writing assignment

April 6 2010- Deep down inside I think I have always wanted to be a writer. I have posted blogs before on My Space and I always paid attention to see how many readers I had. The comments were validation that I held the readers attention. When I do tv shows I'm a host but there are producers and camera men and thank god editors. Even a good tv segment never gave me the satisfaction of having 600 people read a blog I wrote. When I write for better or for worse it's all me.

    2 weeks ago I began a writing course at U.C.L.A. You need to understand I am not sure I even graduated  High School. I have a hard time focusing and never achieved a grade higher than a C. Usually it was a D or F. So the concept that I would actually sign up for a college course when I didn't have to  would seem pretty far fetched. I'm sure I will go into greater detail another time. There was a homework assignment. A homework assignment that was not mandatory. Did you hear me ? I didn't have to do it but I did. You may not understand the power of that statement. I did homework and I didn't even have to.

   The assignment was to describe my surroundings and start with the words "I remember". One problem I had was keeping the story under the set limit of 2 pages. So I gave it a shot and I really do appreciate your comments. My first writing assignment-

                                                   A Small Window of Blue Sky

            I remember the sun fighting its way through the many branches and leaves that intertwined like a road map above me. There was a small window of blue sky between the many branches of the Eucalyptus tree that stood shoulder to shoulder with the Elm and Oak fighting for possession of the earth and sky. Laurel Canyon Blvd is a congested 2-lane road that connects the over crowded San Fernando Valley to the carnivorous world known as Hollywood. This thoroughfare slithers through many trees as dense as one might find in the rainforests of Costa Rica. Where there is not a tree you will find homes of every shape size and monetary value.
      I stood in my front yard. A blanket of manicured grass in an area no bigger than a basketball court. My hand held out in the way one might use for a karate chop. Gripping the top finger were 2 grayish claws. Each  digit was the diameter of a pencil with talons the color of coal. The claws belonged to my African Grey Parrot Voodoo. He was 12 inches tall with feathers displaying every shade of gray. In stark contrast his tail feathers were a brilliant shade of red. Calling him a pet dilutes our bond. Friendship does not even scratch the surface. Voodoo was a part of me. If I was watching the Shield, Californication or any T.V. program related to NASCAR Voodoo was with there. There was even a perch in the shower. This bird had been by my side for 15 years. His vocal capabilities were astounding. Contrary to the white coats findings birds do more than mimic at least Voodoo did. He used words at appropriate moments whether it was calling each of the 4 animals in the house by name or just giving you a greeting when you walked into the room. He was the source of constant sound in the house. I had become used to the chirps, occasional shrieks and ever expanding vocabulary. The sound became as familiar as the sunlight as it filled up each room throughout the day. Every morning Voodoo was the first sound you heard and it gave the house a sense of playfulness and whimsy. I learned to take caution when the house would fall silent. It usually meant Voodoo had left his perch and was sneaking down the hall, staying close to the wall so not to be spotted. He would take great pleasure causing the scream only produced by a human stricken with the shock and slight pain of a beak being clamped on the naked toe.
     Badger my Australian Shepherd began his military like pace in front of the door signifying one thing. “Open the door or I’ll piss all over your precious hard wood floors”. I offered my hand to Voodoo and like he has routinely done for year’s climbed on to my outstretched finger. Badger, Voodoo and I walked down the stairs towards the front yard. Badger was much more brisk in his stride undoubtedly due to the urgency to relieve himself. While Badger proceeded to water the plants I brought my hand slowly in front of my face so that my feathered compadre and I were eye level. His eyes always cut through the stress that eats at me.
           A humongous dump truck barreled down the private road adjacent to my home. Large thick clouds of dust and exhaust escaped from beneath the truck like massive fists. The 2 ton steel monster lunged forward as the deafening sounds of small boulders in the payload slammed against its metal walls. The mammoth sized creature came to an abrupt stop.
        I remember the sun fighting its way through the many branches and leaves that intertwined like a road map above me. A small window of blue sky between the many branches of the Eucalyptus was filled with the silhouette of a startled bird soon to be swallowed up in the labyrinth of this urban jungle Once Voodoo had overcome the terrifying sound he was stricken with the fear of being struck by the rushing automobiles beneath him. He was experiencing this terror for the first time in his life. He began to fly higher escaping each new fear that confronted him until he was lost behind the thickness of the trees on Laurel Canyon forever