First of All, I want you to know I really hate writing these Bio's no matter how good the cause is. I imagine there are people who like to talk or write about themselves, but I am not one of them. Well, here goes anyway.

          I was born a poor Yiddish drummer and ............ wait a minute! ............. I'm not Yiddish!, ......I don't even have Elvis Sideburns let alone those Curly Jobs!.......... and I wasn't exactly poor?!...................... hmmm ........... I was born though?! ................... and they did say when I was delivered, I came out with a pair of Drum Sticks in my hands. I guess that would constitute me being a drummer right out of the gate. But they told me the sticks were 7A with plastic Tips, which causes me to disbelieve the whole Story right there. I mean, I've never in my life, come close to using a 7a model drumstick. Let alone with plastic tips. So, what gives!?! It just doesn't make sense. I guess it shows, that you really can't trust what people tell you these days. It's just really hard to know who to trust. But if I had to trust someone, I would have to include my parents in my circle of "someones" to trust. Even if they were gullible enough to believe what the doctors told them about their son coming into this world with 7a's in his hands. All in all I would say I could trust them.

My parents, ............ Wow! ................ they must of been sent from heaven. Especially my Mom. I mean, not only did she suffer the pain of bringing me into this world of ours, (it probably felt more like a pair of 2b's rather then 7a's) but she had to go through all the years of me playing drums in the house. Almost every day ................ and LOUD! It must have been pure torture. No wait ...... I'm sure it was pure torture. The only trade off for my parents, who bought me my first drum set, besides the fact that their son had reached nirvana (not the group), was the fact that I stopped getting ink spots all over the carpet from drumming on pots and pans with pens on the living room floor. I guess somehow, even at a really young age, I discovered certain techniques of negotiation.

I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago. We had a two story house with a basement. And once I got my first kit, that's where it happened. In the Basement ............... The Inner Sanctum ......... The Inner Ceremonial Sanctum of Suburban Rock! And boy did it happen! When I wasn't rehearsing with the group, the "Cynics," or the power trio I played in, called "Dog Breath", I'd be jamming with players from the "unfamous" band called "Laugh and Grow Fat". And when I wasn't jamming or rehearsing with those guys, I was practicing. Sometimes up to 12 hours a day, for as long as 2 months at a time.

It was during one of those 12-hour-a-day-for-2-months periods, I remember my mom coming down the stairs with tears in her eyes, asking me, "Jack dear, your father will be home any minute and"...... no.....wait a minute........what am I saying......it was, "Jack, can you please not play today. Just give me one day of rest, Pleeeaase!?!" So you can see, it was extremely TOUGH on my Parents. But somehow, they must have realized, even back then, while I was downstairs practicing to all those great songs of my favorite recording artists , that "somebody, somewhere must like that crap!" Isn't it funny how some people just can't appreciate true art?

Anyway, I've been playing drums professionally since I was 19 Years old. Since then I've done everything from being a "Road Hog", to staying in L.A. just playing locally and doing Sessions. It's been a fun way of making a living while doing the most important thing of all; perfecting this art of mine, this glorious art called Rock n' Roll! So what if only 12 and 13 year olds appreciate it!

Over the years I've been lucky enough to make a living while playing all over the world; Great Britain, Scandinavia, Holland, Germany, France, Estonia, Poland, Japan, New Zealand, Australia, etc. etc. As well as not going on the road and not playing all those places and not being lucky. Being Endorsed by a company is a noble thing, or should I say a noble cause. Looking back, I can see quite clearly, as much as I desire to get endorsements from the companies that make the instruments I enjoy playing, it's really a clothing endorsement that I need. One that will replace the clothes that have so many times been ripped from my body! Can I blame the fans for giving in to the passion they have for the art and the artist they so love?!. I think not! And after the concert, after the hard work, all the sweat and all the giving, I'm ready to replenish the liquids my body so desperately craves. So, I crawl on to the tour bus, open a bottle of that filtered tap water we call "Spring water" and reach behind the cabinet door for my usual bag of .................... Wait a minute!! .......... NOT AGAIN!!! ........... as I fling the door open in a desperate search ............. It's the fifth time this tour! I don't believe it!! Those PIGS!!!! I don't need a clothes endorsement, I need a Pork Rind's Endorsement!!! That's what I need!! How can I survive those long bus trips without my cinnamon pork rinds?

Anyway, over the years, I've managed to work in various situations with many different artists, most of whom are listed on my resume. I've also played on over 500 Albums some of which are also mentioned on my resume. So there! All that to say, feel free to check out the resume! And Don't fear Rhyming. It can be a lot of fun. Andre the Giant really had the gift and look what happened to his career.

So that's it for now. Thanks for reading this and making it all the way to the end of ZBio!

You know, doing this Bio wasn't that bad after all, it's helped me to realize that life is not always easy, and that I really do like talking about myself. I never realized how neat I was ............. gee!