ROCK

Springtime is the time for birds, bees, young love. But not in Boston. In Boston it's springtime for H-tler. In Boston it's a whole 'nother smoke. It's a different ballgame--springtime rock howls in like a crewcut pick-up truck full of rednecks full of Pabst and Seconal. Scary.

*****

Springtime for Springsteen, too, speak of the devil. Those of you who saw Sissy Spacek, in "Carrie" will be happy to know that, because of strained ligaments, she'll be unable to join Bruce in his current tour. But you should catch Bruce--along with an all-star group of new background performers with Roots or summer cottages in or near Asbury Park, N.J.--on Tuesday, March 22 at the Music Hall, 8 p.m.

The rest is just listings. Trumbo wrote the beginning graf, I wrote the sorta shallow parody of what usually appears in this space under some pseudonym or other of mine, Diana did the graphics, Tony is the magazine editor, Judy is the Crimson Arts editor, Peggy is the assistant magazine editor, and God's in his heaven, etc. Special thanks to Jacques Costeau and the entire crew of the Calypso except for Hairy Pierre.

Der Marschalltuckerbund--March 19 at 7 pm in the Music Hall. (Maybe Harry had this in his column.)

Frauleim Bobbenraitt--March 30 at 8 pm at the Music Hall.

Herr Al Von Schtewart "mit" special guest Vendy Valdmannn '56, April 15 at 8 pm at the Orpheum.

ZZ Topf and Santa Anna (not a German will be at the Garden the 16th at 8.

Bob Schvieger and Der Silver-bulletbund "mit" special guests Zeitgeist, Gestalt and Derringer at the Music Hall the 18th at 8.

Be there or we will put sauerkraut in the gas tank of your Volkswagen. Und to not think we are kidding.

Trumbo is going to write the last graf.

Trumbone, Go Ahead.

Paranoia runs around deep. When they come for the Birchers' guns, when the busts bust and the silicone rain falls, when the grand jury indictments all come up with your name, and the percentage of illegitimate pregnancies conceived while rock music is playing creeps over 90, then it's time to get out. Kerp and Trumbo be seein' you. (He writes so well.) Off we go, in our flying bunker, high over Boston, wingin our way into your hearts, homes, mind, and a better reward.

Good luck on your Emkatz.

Later,

[Can't forget that.]