Dr. Sadistic & The Silverking Crybabies!


This is where it began.  We pierced Pyramid Peak with a 300-foot safety pin.  But the "safety" was off at that point in time, and it was about to blow!  And suck!  And so were we!

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Prepubescent Punk

Dichromium Jerome is born in Cleveland, Ohio.  To be, or not to be... circumsized?  Dr. Sadistic, on his third martini, enters the operating room.

When I was a baby, my manhood was snipped
The operation was a maul
The doctor was drunk, the knife it slipped
My future went rolling down the hall
Daddy, where are my balls?!

I Was A Teenage Wino

Now in high school, Jerome begins a life-long love affair with the fermentation process.  Hazy afternoons in blissful stupor.  Lost in other-worldly daydreams.  He wonders what it would be like to ACTUALLY LIVE on Boone's farm.

We'll blow lunch off the school bus, then "ralph" at study hall
Yawn in Technicolor, toss our cookies on the wall
Stop down at the clinic for a weekly stomach pump
Put our liver in a quiver, never take a solid dump
I'm a Teenage Wino...

A Real Bad Case

High School Dropout.  Jerome lands a low-paying job on a Marital-Aid assembly line.  Results in socially-desensitized, self-demeaning behavior; the inevitable side effects of overexposure to mechanized eroticism.  He dives head-first into the hardcore punk scene, purchases a used nose-ring.

Down at the Pogo-A-Gogo, pogo on my Nazi Logo
Got a big red nasty on my chin, I hope my parents walk in

I feel so gaunt, but I know what I want, the debutante in the pink bouffant
Punks were lookin' funky in their safety pins
But I'm the only mutha... with herpes on my chin!  Got A Real Bad Case


I'm A Cliche

It's strangely comforting, slam-dancing with the frenzied punks.  For the first time in his life, Jerome fits in.  Along with the bumps and bruises, he's swollen with pride, self-righteous in his role of... Cliche!

Still, he's restless in his soul, searching for something... for answers... for meaning... for soap.

I'm your typical punk, rotten and crude, sick disposition, bad attitude
Pusher for Cleveland's mexican-'Ludes, nothing too original to say
I'm a Cliche!

Sent along a coupon from Creem Magazine
And I won a contest, a Rocky Mountain Dream...

A Ski Trip to Aspen!  Now he can be a TOTAL Cliche!

Condo Bondage

First night in Aspen.  Jerome walks zombie-like down the mall, mesmerized by the unrelenting disco-thump emanating from the Paragon Ballroom.  An older gentleman (the infamous Harry Overbight) buys him a drink, then another...

Met him at the Paragon, he couldn't find the beat
He was champin' at the bit, I could tell he was in heat
He lured me back to his place, somewhere by Little Nell
Locked me up in the guest room, looked like a scene from Hell
But no, it's... Condo Bondage!

Black lights a-glowin' in the smoky haze
I haven't seen the sunlight in over 40 days
Held captive by blind alligators crawlin' on the floor
The fishing rod... the cattle prod... I just can't take no more!


Gucci Pucci Asshole

Jerome remains captive in that dark, gloomy, ski-in ski-out, torture chamber.  Outside, it's a sunny day, and the Silverking Crybabies -- Aspen's most offensive and seriously soiled punk band -- sit on a park bench, inspecting scalps, picking nits.  When the Mercedes convertible rolls by, they spontaneously break into song...

She came in a Mercedes, smokin' Sherman cigarettes
Dropping lots of C-notes on backgammon bets
Too much coke for breakfast, use your nasal tamponettes
Buy a whole new wardrobe when you fall down and get wet

GUCCI-PUCCI ASSHOLE!  Small dogs.  Big cars.  Face lift.  No scars!

Blank Stare Baby

The Rockin' Horse Nightclub is literally underground, dark and dingy, buzzing with worker-bees in significant stages of substance abuse.  The Crybabies perform their poignant ballad, dedicated to the flayboyantly-pierced, adorably cross-eyed, Super Groupie.

I don't care if you've got purple hair
It's just good to know that you're not all there
Those college and career girls... I can tell they're not your heroes
When you're lookin' back at me with two fat zeroes, and your...

Woo, woo, woo, BLANK STARE BABY!

Train Yourself To Like It

Jerome escapes captivity, breaks into an empty condo, makes himself at home.  When night falls, it's back to the Paragon, on the prowl.  Maybe he can lure someone -- of the opposite sex this time! -- back to "his place".  Frustration leads to misogynistic tendencies.

You dance with a punk to improve your disco image
But you ain’t into funk, down at the line of scrimmage
I bought all this equipment, I shaved off all my hair
It ain’t so I work up a sweat while you’re just lyin’ there
Train yourself to like it!

Mad At The World

He's ejected from the condo, moves into a dumpster behind the local fish-house, where any last shred of optimism is crushed like the crab-claws sharing his bed.  A window opens across the way, a speaker blares, and he's forced to spend the night listening to right-wing talk-radio.  And the anger grows... resentment builds...

Spent the night in a dumpster behind the Chart House
Rancid lemon butter and lobster claws and a little brown mouse
I'm in the alley screaming "Single!" Nobody rides with me
I look up at the mountain mansions, RED is all I see

Beat Me To A Pulp

Our hero has been rejected, infected, neglected, and once again, ejected -- this time from the dumpster.  His fabulous vacation has come to an end.  Back to the factory?  Noooo!!!!  Can't bear the thought!  He roams the alleys, searching for that "special someone" who can... turn out his lights!

I’m just like you, I never had it easy
No one ever asked me if I wanted to be sleazy
Never had the breaks, just the bellyaches
Now when I need action, put me into traction!

Hey big fella, Beat Me To A Pulp!


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"The Doctor & Crybabies - Meditating Outside The Silverking Condos"

The above photo is from the back of the album, along with disclaimers...

"Not For Everyday Use"
"Contains No Redeeming Social Value"

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Also on the Back Cover...

In an attempt to summarize the proceedings in a single breath (and yes, he DID inhale), Dr. Sado delivered this stream-of-consciousness narrative -- in a blistering, chainsaw-soprano! -- rendering several onlookers speechless... and sterile.

(Let's see you do it in one breath!)

this is the tale of dichromium jerome born into a world of abuse though smarter than the average kid not suitable for everyday use raised in an encampment of midwest motor homes with a burden of too many chromosomes important components missing he struggled alone and went on his own angry brain cells hissing a real bad case in Cleveland not one for stereotype our boy changed his hype won a trip to a new location where a fresh mountain range did little to change his original vocation he was pitied coughed at stepped on and scorned and made to rue the day he was born to see so well the heart that is beating in a vision of hell poor poor dichromium jerome didn’t he end up sadly but here’s a note to let you know life goes on however badly our hero cleaned up and now adjusts insurance outside of motown he’s tranquilized married and shoots from the hip but someday soon he’ll start to slip this is a concept album play loud