Steve "Irb" Irby - Drums (2002 - 2004)
Todd "T" Evans - Guitar, Vocals (1995 - 2004)
Steve "Stezo" Wells - Bass, Vocals (1995 - 2004)
Mike Liedtke - Vocals (1995 - 2002)
Kev Tufts - Drums (1995 - 2002)
L.A.W. HISTORY ACCORDING TO MIKE.......
Before I wrote this bio, I stopped at Kroger for some bread, jam, and Diet Pepsi. I should've looked a little more closely at the line I was getting in, but ofcourse, I didn't. In front of me was a gnarled sixty-something hag with warts all over her and many extraneous body hairs sticking out of her face. I noticed that she was buying, along with her off brand lima beans and pork rinds, about 789 jars of baby food, no doubt for her bastard grandchild, begotten by her slutty granddaughter, who just couldn't keep her legs closed. Or, keep her biker boyfriend with tattoos on his neck off of her. Needless to say, granny was now taking care of the little spawn, and now I was behind her in line at the supermarket and hating it. Did I mention she was paying with a check and had 350,000 coupons?
I thought about getting out of the line, but some yahoo sporting a mullet and his fat trailer trash wife with curlers in her hair, wearing a flower print moo-moo, and their fat slobbering kids toting WWF t-shirts and Kool-Aid stained faces crept up in line behind me. All I wanted to do was pick up a couple things at the store, and now I sat there trapped in some horrible scene from "Earnest Goes Shopping." I wonder why I never get behind the drunk supermodel out picking up another case of beer and looking for somebody, anybody to help her finish out her night with a little game of slap and tickle. But NO, I stand here between the clampets and grandma mutant Moses.
Of course, it gets worse......
It seems some of granny's coupons have expired and she proceeds to attempt to debate the meaning of the term "expires on" with the poor cashier. The conversation must have been quite taxing on the old broad's brain because her cackling red-neck drawl, combined with her frequent slurring and spitting, made her impossible to understand. The more the cashier made her repeat herself, the more she slurred and spit. Soon her face became beat red with the effort of formulating coherent words. I noticed a small stream of snot beginning to leach out of her nose, down her top lip, and into her mouth. Soon the snot spit mix was flying all over the place. I was watching, horrified and disgusted, when a piercing scream came from behind. One of the pudgy faced rats behind me got his Sugar Daddy caught in his hair, and the mullet's wife was pulling violently at it trying to un-stick it from his greasy mop. The mullet head attempted to help her by croaking in a cigarette choked voice,"Maureen, would you keep the damn kids quiet!" "Shud up, Bo!" She shrieked,"It's bad enough you ain't got no job..."(You know the rest.) At that point, I swore I had gone to hell.
My name is Mike. I am a Lazy American Worker and this is my world. The Lazy's are a product of blue collar white trash immersion, characterized by too much of too little for too long. It's a potato space in your jeans, a chain on your wallet, and too much nose hair that whistles when the punk breathes. L.A.W. is all that and more. I scoured the best flop houses, salt mines, and gay bath houses for just the right men to back me up and this is the result. I found T, my guitarist, shaving mules and stretching cows for a local cannery. His brutal style and large brow ridges convinced me that he was the one to hammer out power chords for me. Stezo J. Washington (J is for jukebox) was a song and dance man starring with Elain Boozler in a musical adaptation of Kathrine Hepburn's unfinished novel,"Dancing in a Mausoleum." Stezo played a sultry handmaid with a bladder infection. He made me so sick that I knew he was perfect to play bass and attract some sleazy dancers to the shows. Kev was greasing monkeys for a homo-erotic coffee house. The way those monkeys chattered when he worked them was proof enough he would stroke the skins equally as skillfully. Soon we were bashing our way through the midwest music scene.
If a train full of Ramones collided with a mini bus full of Dead Kennedys, who had old Metallica riding on the luggage rack, the resulting carnage would be the Lazy American Workers....A sunny melody being stomped to death by a thousand pairs of combat boots. Don't be mad, just shut up-wear your mullet proud, don't whine, and kick back in your recliner because the Lazy American Workers are here!