Presented here for your delectation and delight are a selection of Reb's stories, taken from his forum posts over the years. In addition, we've dug up several short audio clips from the vaults, ranging from his time in Winger to the present day. So sit back, grab a cold one, light up (if you're that way inclined!) and prepare to be entertained!

Reb's philosophy of life...

First song I ever played...
(clip length: 0.43 filesize: 504kb)
From Winger - The Videos
now out of print

Reb the sandwich maker...
(clip length: 0.27 filesize: 319kb)
From Winger - The Videos
now out of print

Musical influences...
(clip length: 0.23 filesize: 274kb)
From Winger - In the Heart of
the Young now out of print

Childhood haircut trauma...
(clip length: 1.47 filesize: 1.23mb)
From Winger - In the Heart of
the Young Pt II now out of print

Rock star gets carried away...
(clip length: 0.26 filesize: 312kb)
From Winger - The Videos
now out of print

We work, he skates...
(clip length: 0.29 filesize: 351kb)
From Winger - The Videos
now out of print

Ugly Reb...

The 'Seventeen' guy...
(clip length: 1.08 filesize: 806kb)
From Homegrown - Private Lesson
Vol 1 buy it from the online store

Kane Roberts saves the day...
(clip length: 1.02 filesize: 730kb)
From Homegrown - Private Lesson
Vol 1 buy it from the online store

My Thanksgiving started at 4:00 am at the Holiday Inn Express in Van Nuys where I am now. At 4am the front desk called and told me to quickly dress and open the door, because there were 16 policemen waiting for me outside the door. I asked if this was about me, staring at a joint on the table. They said no, and said to hurry. I dressed and opened the door to a full S.W.A.T. team, motioning me to keep quiet, and showing me to the elavator. They were loaded for bear with machine guns and decked to the hilt with padding.

Apparently, the guy across the hall was a murderer (or as Flanders would say, a "Mur diddly urdler!")and had jumped out the window, where they caught him. They were now seaching for bodies, which I thought was strange, because I couldn't picture him dragging the bodies through the lobby and up the elavator, so I guess they thought he did it here.

Anyway, getting back to sleep was tough and I felt groggy at dinner. My sister had a bunch of friends at dinner and one of them had a baby. We sat down to eat, my sister said grace, and the baby lady WHIPPED OUT HER TIT. I mean big and plain as day. She was across the table from me and the turkey was between us. The tit and the bird seemed to be staring at each other, as if at any moment they would begin to duel. I tried to divert my eyes, but the bizarre pairing of breasts was just mesmorizing somehow, maybe due to my lack of sleep. No.

She quickly hung up with me and ran upstairs. The bed was 6 feet tall and hovering like the giant tit that chased Woody Allen in "Everything you always wanted to know about sex". Terrified, she called the water bed company and they told her to just let it drain out in the sink. So she pulled the hose off the faucet and let it drain into the sink. Then it was time to pick up Kelly at school. While she was gone, the hose popped out of the sink and landed on the air vent register on the floor, flooding the entire downstairs. She came home to a giant pool in the living room. She called me freaking out. Her voice was so high. She was screaming in falsetto. Just then there was a knock at the door. It was a Haitian man in a white suit. Behind him, a truck that had 'Jojo's Carpet Cleaning' painted on the side. "Hello mam, would you like your carpets cleaned at a fraction of the..." "DOES THAT THING SUCK WATER???" my wife squeaked, pointing to his truck. Local dogs ran. "Why yes... yes it does... Why?" the man asked. As luck would have it, the man sucked up all the water with his special truck, designed to do just that.

I came home and we had run out of propane. I went to the propane place and got into a conversation with the guy about how dangerous propane tanks are. He said "We had a guy last week who left here after filling a tank and got into a car accident. He was killed not by the other car, but by the SHRAPNEL from the explosion of the tank in his back seat. Yep, these things are killers." I went back to the house and hooked up the tank to the grill, which was on the pool patio, a foot from the lake. Just an exquisite house... 2500 square feet of luxury. Anyway, I formed the patented giant Reb burgers, after working the mustard and garlic and onions into the raw meat. I topped them off with lemon pepper and walked out to the patio with my beer and my perfect manly creations of food. I opened the valve at the top of the propane tank and turned the grill on. Then I struck a match and lit it. Then I threw the burgers on. It was then time for another beer, and as I was walking back to the kitchen, I heard "WHOOSH... SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS... RUMBLE RUMBLE." I turned around and there was fire shooting out from the bottom of the grill. I screamed to my wife "Honey get a blanket!!" The grill was underneath the overhang of the house, 12 feet above. I knew that I was probably not going to make it and kept waiting for the boom and the shrapnel. I thought about the house catching on fire with the kids inside after my ugly demise. My wife came running out with the blanket, saw the imminent danger, and said "What the hell are you gonna do with this blanket???" in lolly pop guild voice. Just then the children flocked out of the kitchen and screamed. That's when the Homer Simpson in me, which makes up 90 percent of my personality, kicked in. I looked at the grill... I looked at the pool... I looked at the grill... I looked at the pool. Grill. Pool. Grill. Pool. Grill. Pool. GRILLPOOLGRILLPOOL...

"Honey I am doing it!!!" I announced, and grabbed the the grill and pushed it on its squeaky wheels towards the pool. Er Hee... Er Hee... ERHEE ERHEEERHEEERHEE SPLASH!!!! ...Silence befell the Beach patio, as soggy half cooked burgers floated to the top of the water.

There is nothing like raising a grill out of pool with your family. I pushed from under water while the girls pulled on the rope I had attached to it. It was family bonding at it best. Later, I found a little rubber O ring on the ground. It somehow fell off the male insert to the propane tank. We used the grill for another year.

Dad always drove everywhere with a cooler of Coors Light in the car. When I told him I was dying of thirst, he said "Son, I want you to have a nice cold beer. There is nothin' better when you are thirsty." I was twelve and didn't didn't think I would like beer. I was wrong. IT TASTED SO GOOD! I had two, and caught my first buzz. I couldn't believe that a drink that tasted so good actually made me happy for an hour afterwards.

Ever since then, I drank beer every night. Dad always kept a bottle of Vodka in the freezer and one night he had some ritzy friends, the Flannery's, over and poured me a glass to try. It went down like water. I told Mrs. Flannery she had a fat vagina and then puked on the rug. Needless to say, I just stuck with beer.

I was cranking tunes in my iPod, just totally relaxing when this madman comes running down the beach in my direction. We were alone on the beach, yet he is screaming "Party!! Yeah Party!!" He stopped fifty feet away from me and tore all his close off. He then ran towards the water, continuing to scream, with his dinghus bouncing in the moonlight. I watched as he frolicked in the water by himself, almost as if he were accompanied by the Bud Lite girls. The current was really strong, and it took about 15 minutes for him to drift a half a football field away.

I noticed a nice family coming on to the beach and walking towards him. He came out of the water like a bald pink sea monster, running like someone who had to pee really bad. He had one hand over his genitals and one hand over his ass, as he ran right up to the horrified little family. "Have you seen any clothes around here??" he croaked. What made me laugh was when the mother slapped her hand over the little girls eyes and the little girl kept trying to beat them away so she could see. After watching him suffer a little, I yelled to him "Hey dude, your stuff is over here!" He ran over to me and I recognized him as one of our crew. "Thanks a lot man" he said. Then he yelled as he was fumbling with his pants "Hey I work for Whitesnake! I can get you backstage man!!!"

I got on the plane to Japan and it was so awesome in business class. They had fourteen movies that you could start, rewind, or pause whenever you wanted. You could also scroll through different views outside the plane from cameras that were mounted all over the place. The stewardess were big rock fans, and thought it was par for the course to get me soused. They kept replacing my beer. (Editor's note: Oh yea, Reb - blame the stewardesses!) Even if it wasn't finished!(Lebu san's beer must always be fresh and cold). This is where I lost count. If I had to guess I would say... 9 beers and two glasses of wine. Oh, and a vodka and orange juice. Um, and I also took a zanex. Then it was an hour and a half drive to Tokyo, and the wonderful stewardesses were kind enough to give me three beers for the trip, which I pounded.

I went for a walk today and found a very busy street that had a lot going on. Casinos and a lot of restaurants. Everyone knew where they were going but me and I felt like I was a dork who didn't know the unspoken "Walking Rules" of Japan. I have been here before, but this time I felt like I was visiting another planet. It was so hot that I was drenched in a minute. My shirt was wet! Everyone else looked so comfy, and some people were running.

Ordering at Macdonalds is always a little weird, but I just hold up my three fingers and say "Number three!". I wanted to go to Subway, but remembered that you have to tell them what you want on it. I am sure the word for onion sounds nothing like onion etc.. So, I chickened out and I will probably just get spaghetti bolognese again from room service. It's twenty bucks, but almost as good as Germany. It's really close, and WAY better than in the States. I wanted to hang at the pool but they said it is closed in August. So here I am in the room and I guess I will screw around with my music program until somebody calls me for a drink.

For some reason jetlag has been worse for me on this trip. Things were going great at the last Tokyo show, until half way through I felt sooo tired I just kinda stood there in a daze for the rest of the show. Most of the shows have been great, though. We go everywhere on the bullet train, which is a great way to see the beautiful countryside. As usual, when I am out of the country I have been eating alot of spaghetti bolognese. They have little sandwiches here that look like someone's mom cut off the edges for you. I also like a good Mcteriyaki burger. They would be huge in the States.

They do many things better in Japan. They have so many things that you go "Man, why don't we have that?" From the little hooks on the train that fold out for your jacket near your seat, to the "Do not disturb" button by your bed that lights a little sign outside your hotel room door. It's so cool that they don't shake hands here, but rather bow to avoid transferring germs. Everyone who has a cold wears a mask, something that would never catch on in the States, as we are a society that cares so much how we look (well, maybe just me!). All the toilets are flushed by waving your hand across a sensor and there are little hand washing stations everywhere. Plus, you get a wet towel in a wrapper handed to you every ten minutes.

I went to an amazing section of town that is little known by tourists that my friend Mika showed me called "ouneo" or something. It's kind of like the strip in Pittsburgh, only 100 times bigger. They sell things in bulk there, anything from food to clothes, and it is very happening. They had big ugly crabs and fish that looked like aliens. I found a jeans store called Maruseru (www.maruseru.com), that had the coolest jeans I have ever seen. I was thrilled to find my favorite Big John bell bottoms for guys, which are unavailible anywhere except Japan. The store guy almost had a heart attack when I went into the changing room without removing my shoes. Apparently, this is a great insult.

The subway was so packed that I said "You've got to be kidding me" when I saw how many people were going to try and get on the already packed train. I was the last one on, and I felt like I needed to take a running start! Everyone was smushed up against each other, but they didn't seem to mind.

I found a light beer that I like here called Kirin Blue Label 50 percent. It is really good. They also have one that is disgusting called Suntory Diet Beer. It actually tastes like water with salt and pepper in it.

People are so polite here. Going to 7-11 is a totally different experience. They say thank you a lot. I put my water, chips, and diet pepsi (for the morning) on the counter. "Domo Aregato!" I hand him the money. "Aregato!" He hands me the change coin by coin ."Aregato!" "Aregatoooo" "Aregatoooo!" Everyone stands around reading magazines for hours, most of which have pictures of scantily clad schoolgirls in them (this we must adopt). I am used to Apu - "Please do not touch the magazines or I shall blow your head off. Thank you, come again."

I have to say that the Japanese fans are so dedicated and respectful. They are very generous. I have recieved so many gifts, like amazing cookies and toys. Since I have been here I have felt so welcome and there has been a lot of interest in Winger! I am talking with Universal about my new record and I would love to bring the Project over here as well. I have realized that there is al ot of work for me over here, since there is also a clinic vibe going on. So I hope to come back soon, if only for the HIGH POWERED BUTT WASHING toilets that are everywhere. I was almost late for rehearsal for God's sake.

Snakes have an extremely slow digestive system. If they eat a rabbit, it takes six months for the snake's stomach to decompose and mold the carcass into something it can fit out of its butt. As a result, snakes poop every four to six months and when they do, the stench is indescribably all consuming and horrible. Just imagine the worst fart you have ever smelled and times it by a hundred.

First came the urine. Alice walked out with the animal wrapped around his shoulders. When the floodgates opened, Alice was oblivious to the new opening and continued to walk around the stage, spreading the python's scent like a fireman fighting with a hose. Instantly the smell painted a picture of a dirty West Virginia circus carney ignoring his stall duties. Everything was soaked down quickly. I had seen a horse pee many times and I was surprised at how similar this was. Coming from such a smaller animal, the force and the amount was jaw dropping.

All the band members looked at each other and smirked with a "Oh well, the show must go on!" face. Everyone got back to their places and tried to ignore what had just happened, so we wouldn't forget our parts. No one could have imagined that it was a pre-poop pee. Especially, because the feeding of the snake was supposed to be timed by the trainer to insure poopless performances.

At first I thought the snake was shedding its butt skin, or perhaps it was some kind of reverse fur ball. Then, it just kept getting bigger! It was white and pink and shaped like a long watermelon. At this point I remember thinking that the snake was having a baby! awwww! The miracle of birth right in the middle of the show! This thought was halted abruptly when the smell hit me. Then Alice walked over to me, still clueless of the horrible demon that was being unleashed by his hand after months of festering. The pink smelly baby landed right next to my pedalboard with a thud. Womp!

I remember the audience, which was nose level with the atrocity, stepping backward 8 steps in unison. Never had I seen an audience do this, and with such perfect choreography! I thought they were going to line dance. Right then, it was time for the one shining moment I got in the show to solo(no exaggeration). I tell ya man, I could not play the instrument. The only time the spotlight is on me all night and I just couldn't play because of the smell. It was like rubbing your head and patting your stomach while you have diaorrhea. Alice was still dropping mines all over the stage. At the end of the song, which seemed to go on forever, the crew was asked to clean up the mess. They refused. That is how bad the smell was. Finally my guitar tech chugged an entire beer and went out on stage, towel in hand. He wasn't there thirty seconds when he projectile vomited onto the audience and my pedalboard.(no exaggeration). After the last song, I walked right off stage and out the door and walked to my sister's. Even though I felt embarrassed about the show, at least I got a good Spinal Tap story out of it!

We had Thanksgiving in Plymouth and my Mom's sisters and brothers all had deep Boston accents. For some reason that made the holiday and the food more traditional. Aunt Ann would say "Julie, where should we pac the caa?? Who's going to calf the bid?"

My family never got together without getting rip roaring drunk. One time I remember Dad asking Mom's new 28 year old boyfriend, who was present at the table, about how he felt about her habits in bed. Mom was mortified, but it was funny. Actually, I remember Dad always being funny at Thanksgiving. He came to my boarding school for their special Thanksgiving meal one year. The school prided itself on their totally homegrown organic food. The students actually grew all the vegetables. Dad wasn't at the table five minutes when he announced in his huge voice that his "dog wouldn't eat this crap!" I swear a hush fell over 200+ people.

Dad never knew anybody's name. He called everyone "partner" or "slick". My cousin Mark and I were inseparable friends for years and Dad never knew his name. One year, Mark, who was very tall and losing his hair at age 20, called him on it. He said "Uncle Dick, you really don't know my name, do ya?" Dad replied with "Your a big mother ****er, aren't ya baldy!" God, I loved that man. Dick Beach. Sounds like a gay resort. Anyway, Have a great holiday everyone!!!!!

(Original post by Anon E Moose) It was last summer in San Francisco. I had just parked my Tahoe at the top of my street, a steep incline the city is so famous for. I took out the keys and walked behind the truck when suddenly the emergency brake let loose and it drifted backwards hitting the curb and trapping me under the back wheels. The pain was excruciating and there seemed to be no way out. None of the neighbors heard my cry for help or screams of pain. When all of a sudden here comes Reb Beach behind the wheel of his Celebrity station wagon. He sees my situation jumps out of the car and runs over to me. Calm yet concerned he asked if I was trapped. "Yes", I answered, "I am stuck under the wheels." Reb reached down and lifted that Tahoe right off of me! I got to my feet and brushed myself off then Reb bought me dinner. That is how Reb Beach saved my life.

(Reb's post) With the advent of the internet, I wondered how long it would take before you all discovered my secret. It all started when I was six years old in Baltimore. We had a lake in the back of the house and I was teaching myself to ice skate, having eluded the baby sitter. Thin ice was not something I could comprehend at the age of six and within minutes I was flailing in the ice cold water.

A massive current created by my father's hyper sonic bilge pump pulled me underneath the ice and just as I was about to pass out from exhaustion and bitter cold, something extraordinary happened. The face of an angel(covered in acne)appeared from the depths and spoke to me in kid language. "Hi. I talked to a guy and he told me you have all these powers and stuff and you gotta like use them to help all kinds of different people all over the world, but you can never tell anyone,ok?" I promptly agreed and the angel LEFT!

There I was without the energy to move, when suddenly my leg smashed through the ice as if it was being controlled by some other superhuman force. My hands and arms began to turn in circles, slow at first, then building to a helicopter-like speed. Soon I looked like a little motor boat, smashing through the ice and tooling around the lake like Pac Man.

Since then I have secretly saved peoples' lives for 30 years, cleverly disguising myself as a has-been, 80's guitarist. I don't remember much after each good deed and to this day I still don't know where the power comes from. Sometimes I will be sitting at home and I suddenly get an overwhelming urge to go to the airport and get on a plane to where ever the urge tells me.

All I know is that I am summoned only to special people, there is a very important reason that you all must survive. Maybe it's to buy my solo album. Hahahaha