Crucifucker remembered

I hold dear to me the few amorphous memories I have of the most violent, absurd punk rockist to ever live. Doc Corbin Dart, for those who rightfully have no idea, was lead screamer of Lansing's shamelessly repugnant anarchist act The Crucifucks. This is a band an Amazon reviewer impeccably described as "the greatest threat to conservative American values since Communism." With hilarious-but-tender anthems like "Hinkley had a Vision," "Democracy spawns bad taste," and "Cops for fertilizer," The Crucifucks joined Rare Earth and soon-to-be Verve Pipe as one of Lansing's most worthy musical contributions (note: drummer Steve Shelley went on to join SONIC YOUTH).

Turns out, in 1989, the year my family moved to Michigan, Doc opened up a little baseball card shop downtown on Michigan Ave. Evidently when Doc wasn't cutting himself on stage and calling for Reagan's assassination, he had an enthusiasm for stick bubblegum and Cal Ripken. Given I was only eight or nine years old at the time, I had no comprehension of just who the emaciated presence behind the counter was. Our first visit and my sister and I got out alive with an Al Kaline oversized trading card. Months later, the shop closed its doors.

Fast forward 5 or so years. A new novelty shop opens in Lansing's old town district, under the deceptive signature Little Doc's fun cards. Abounding with baseball cards and some toys were also old vinyl LPs and lamp heads. As family and friends know, I often recite three humorous incidents I shared with Doc at that store. The first was when I went in there determined to bait the old coot. "Got any Wham! records?" I asked. "No," he said. "I'm all out of my 13 year-old girl music."

Second time was with a friend while scouring through some Donruss '87. "Can I look at your Ozzie Smith's," my friend asked. Doc, sitting behind the counter watching tv with his daughter, turned to the young child. "I'm sorry we can't hear the television, dear, some young boys are being awfully rude right now."

Third was after a pack of loitering young teenagers left the store. 10 minutes later they came back in. Always in the interest of good commerce, Doc yelled from the back of the store, "Thought you left."

In 2001 after 9/11, Doc made local headlines with the type of signs in his yard that echoed the sentiments of Susan Sontag and Noam Chomsky. One I'll never forget: "Patriotism reflects a secret wish to be sodomized." He was bombarded with death threats, and his place now stands boarded up and possibly vacant. That's the last I've heard of him, although somewhere I read he released a solo album in 2004.

No, as my title suggests, Doc Dart is not dead. Well, kind of. From what I understand, he recently changed his name to "26." Strange that's how old I'll be later this year, and to think I met him as an 8 year old seems galaxies away.

Comments

[joshi]

your best writing as of yet.