This month has proven to be a particularly great one for me as a Wesley Willis fan.  Not only was I offered an original piece of art by the late, great artist/musician, but I was also mailed a copy of an amazing documentary about Willis for review.

I first discovered Wesley‘s work when I was in high school and I was immediately drawn to it (pun intended).  Clearly the man had some obvious points of comic appeal, such as extreme moments of profanity and graphic references to bestiality, but there was definitely something deeper to him, even if it wasn’t always easy to determine exactly what it was.  The documentary Wesley Willis’s Joy Rides has successfully managed to capture and express those difficult to verbalize qualities, which made Wesley such a remarkable and inspiring individual.  One quote from the film, which most aptly sums up this phenomenon, was made by Willis‘ friend/art patron, John Stulgate, who said,  “You could see people’s hearts through their interactions with Wesley Willis.”

Although I had been a long time fan, I didn’t get a chance to see Wesley live until 2002.  The show took place in Seattle at The Graceland (now, El Corazon) and Grand Buffet was opening.  I’ll never forget walking from the bar through the doorway into the venue.  I saw Wesley immediately; he was staring frighteningly out of the corner of his eye and in my direction from behind the merch table.  Due to his immense size and weight, Wesley could be a daunting figure and his breaths were loud and heavy like a tranqued hippo.  I, eventually, made my way over to the table to say hello.  I had brought a sniper deployment manual and a 25¢ hardcover book about rottweilers for him to sign, in lieu of my Book of Mormon and 100 Deadliest Karate Moves books, which I had temporarily left in California.  He signed the sniper book but, once he got the rottweiler book in his hands, he was mesmerized.  “Can I keep this book“, he asked.  “Sure“.  After that, it was like I wasn’t even there, so I slipped away as he focused intently on pictures of similar looking dogs.  When the show ended, Wesley headed back behind the table to flip his wares.  I bought a live EP and asked him if he liked the book.  “I got that right back here!” he said.  Then he added, “I wrote a song called ‘Suck a Rottweiler’s Ass‘.  I’m gonna write a song called ‘Suck a Rottweilers Dick‘!“  So I told him, “You need to write a song called ‘Suck the Stripes off a Zebra’s Dick‘.” Read the rest of this entry →