Have you seen this guy?

Neither have we. Not for a long long time. Goes by the name of Jeff Valley, aka Subdude -- our smarmy manager.

Since he beat those morals charges and cleared up that nasty business in Venezuela, you would’ve thought he might resurface, but this shadowy figure is nowhere to found. Last week’s raid on the local motel on Rt. 6 turned up traces of his blood, two or three other people’s blood, a horribly disfigured still smoking souffle and liberal amounts of vaseline and battery acid. But the trail was cold by the time the feds kicked the door in.

It’s actually kind of a misnomer to refer to him as our manager. After all, the only work The Cocktails have ever gotten through Jeff Valley were disasterous gigs at a nursery (nothing but shrubs), a nursery school (nothing but pink eye) and a near-riot at an Al-Anon Meeting. Still, we gave him another chance -- the promise of that Superbowl Halftime gig did sound rather appealing.

Little did we realize it was all a ruse -- nothing but an excuse to get back into our good graces and into our Band Kitty (the stash, not the feline, although we wouldn’t put that past him either).

So here we are again, broke as the day we bought Harvé a keyboard, all because we put our trust in a guy that managed to run himself over with his own van. So when you see us again at The Sunset House in Peekskill on February 15th, please throw money at us, or at the very least, show us your boobies.

And if you spot Jeff Valley lurking at one of our gigs, give him the following message -- “We still love ya man, Boy George tattoo and all.”

Tags: Friends, Ill Repute, Performance, Fans, Bar

Tags: Restaurant, Performance, Bar