God Bless You, Mike Nelson. You Are A Genius.
Current mood: blissful
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities
don't ask me how i went this long without knowing about RiffTraxx, but now i know and maybe now i'll even buy the stupid Star Wars prequels just to be able to watch 'em the way God intended... with Mike!
Mike Nelson, for the three of you who didn't already know, was head writer and star of Mystery Science Theater 3000, starting in season 5 and ending on the day God apparently died, resulting in the cancellation of the show.
well, fuck those idiots who didn't understand true comedy when they had it super-imposed right at the bottom of the worst movies ever made, RiffTraxx is actually even funnier than MST3K, and even has guest commentators like Weird Al and Chad Vader (you can watch the entire season 1 of Chad Vader: Day Manager, on youtube.com it's hilarious and pretty smart).
unfuckwittable. i sound like a commercial for the shit, but i'm genuinely excited cause i been a bad movie geek since i was a little kid and my first time seeing MST3K was like having one of my coolest wishes granted right before my very eyes by a nerdy white guy (then, Joel Robinson) and 2 homemade robots (Tom Servo & Crow T. Robot). in fact, over half of the movies i saw with them, i've never seen in their original form because, as far as i'm concerned, that was the quintessential version.
I JUST CAN’T STOP WATCHING THIS...
Current mood: fascinated
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities
Fuck Batman & IronMan & The Hulk & Indiana Jones (well, maybe not Indy), but this is the one i'd be camping out for if it ever accidentally played here... which would never, ever happen, but i'm definitely going out of my way to see it at a festival or something...
The Meatballs Roll, Whiplash, NOFX, & The Eternal Damnation Of My Soul
Current mood: sore
Category: Blogging
the show at Les Bons Temps was completely weird. i'm still bouncing it around in my head. i still can't figure out where it jumped the rails. first of all, i automatically consider it a bad omen when you get to the venue and start setting up and NO ONE from the place ever once approaches ANY of you. i mean, they weren't standing in the back, forking the evil eye at us or anything, but i'm used to a manager or soundguy or even just the bartender introducing themselves and making sure every one's on the same page. whatever, the bartender was stupid hot, so we all properly introduced ourselves anyway. at some point in Arajay's set, this fucking sweaty slob drinking his woes away at the bar (the BACK bar, where the bands play. there's a front bar with a jukebox and you can barely even tell there's music going on in the back... oh well, there was a dude bartender up there, so that mighta effected this guy's decision to brave some sounds he had never even imagined existed) decides he's not a fan. in fact, he HATES the shit. he makes it his business to inform the bartender he never wants Arajay in there again, not even as a customer, i think. he also made sure Arajay knew he felt that way, once his set was over. he also made sure that everyone around him knew he felt the same way about DoomsDayDevice, as he kept announcing to whoever would listen, "i don't ever want to see any of them back in here" and even told some of the listeners in the audience not to come back, at that. since no one representing the bar had ever spoken to any of us, it was only at the ass end of the night that we finally began to assume he had nothing to do with the place and was full of shit. for all we knew before that, he could've been the owner, just also an asshole. it happens. i've been to those places, too.
someone in the staff this Sunday WAS offended by us, though, and for a reason that has never once crossed my mind.
BLASPHEMY!!!!!
somebody from the kitchen there went sit outside so he couldn't hear me and Sputz talking shit on God anymore. i swear to... well, i PROMISE, i have never once felt like we were blaspheming in our lyrics, and i've ALWAYS felt that DoomsDayDevice has a strong spiritual grounding, just not necessarily a Christian one. alot of our content involves living life with imagination and not just accepting reality at face value. you know, discover things instead of just assuming that RED had always meant STOP and GREEN has always meant GO. maybe in some of this we might mention the idea of each individual consciousness being, by definition, its own God. maybe, once or twice, i mention that the idea of God as a physical humanoid character is a little bit insulting to my faith in the universe and the source of fucking EVERYthing, but i'm usually always nice about it and tolerant of everybody else's beliefs and all that cool stuff. ok, maybe i'm a dick to the wiccans sometimes, but they started it and i know it was ya'll muthafuckas put that snake in my mailbox.
...but that is another story...
we made some pretty good money (props to B+ of Kid Midi for even finding out we got paid, cause, once again, the situation was never actually discussed) and there was no cover so i know the bar did good. i'm hoping those couple little negatories (no, you may not have my permission to use this word) don't conspire against us cause i had fun, all in all. it's a cozy spot.
speaking of cozy, i spent half of the NOFX show in a compressed steam bath of stinking, sweaty bodies last night. hands in the air, singing at the top of my blasphemous lungs, about 10 feet in front of Fat Mike. it was mind-blowing. best show in forever. they played all 18 minutes of "The Decline". i cried like a 12-year-old girl at a Whatever-Kinda-Silly-Little-Music-12-year-old-Girls-Listen-To-These-Days concert. NOFX are alot smarter and alot more musically creative than they're given credit for. can't wait to watch 'em in Austin when we go to SxSW.
word. so it's Back To The Real World time (or however close you can come to that when you work in a bar in New Orleans) and i gotta go try to shower the soreness out of my entire body and maybe gargle a little bit and see if i can get my throat happening to play open mic tonight. something tells me i'll be sitting out this week. my vocal chords sound like they're made of paper today. i'm actually excited about ducking out at midnight and sneaking home to watch stupid movies or something quiet.
peace, and pray to the God of your liking to have mercy on my stiff neck,
"Whatchu think? We bust outta here today?" ...chink...chink... "Nah. Not today, Boss. We just keep-a diggin." ...chink...chink...chink... "I can't take this fa too much longer... I'm gonna do somethin." ...chink... "Told you what to do... We dig. Keep up." ...chink...chink... "Man, my back's tired. My arms float up when i try to rest 'em. I think i got a toothache."
"It's too early. You gonna know when. We gonna do it smooth. We gonna climb right over that wall. Might even be a parade or somethin. Keep ya head right." ...chink... "My head's gettin to be a scary place. I start thinkin we diggin in cement and they laughin about it. I start thinkin we just here to dig. Don't matter what we come up with... just here to dig."
"We gonna dig fa as long as we gotta dig. We gonna smile our prettiest smiles and tell our funniest jokes. We gonna congratulate the ones up on top the fence and be their friends, cause when we go over, we gonna light 'em on fire so the whole damn wall burns down. You like that?" ...chink... "Whhhhhoooo-Hoo! I can't wait! How much longer we gotta dig for? When we gonna burn the wall down?" ...chink-chink...chink-ink...chink...
Kingdom Of Salvation Inc.
Current mood: groggy
Category: Writing and Poetry
The Kingdom Of Salvation is a convenience store/gas station, where road weary families browse for doo-dads on vacation, and the cutest little trinkets that they’d never seen before, every aisle they walk down, fills the baskets even more, they even give ’em baskets at the door.
it seems, whatever you wanted, but never knew existed, from the most exquisite of kitschy artifacts to the most obnoxiously, sexually twisted, 8-Track tapes of the newest musicians and blow-up dolls to hold your pole when you’re fishin’ and the right Survival Kit, no matter your mission, they get worked into a fury when they see the treasure they were wishin’
and 6 out of 10 of them grow quieter and quieter, and all slack in the face, and slowly stumble to the kitchen.
snuffed, cleaned & frozen, The Good Lord’s Chosen, they feed The World when The World’s gotta eat on the goes and you could tell The World what it was and they’d still love to eat it, cause a life-long t.v. commercial umbilical told ’em "You Just Can’t Beat It!"
brain-washed into eating the brainwashed cattle, who wandered into Heaven looking for some Fiddle-Faddle and became sufficient nutrition for a race that’s grown adle, from the subliminal suggestions they were taught from birth not to battle.
That One Thing Only You Can Do
Current mood: mischievous
*Couzin Lyricz is on his way into town and we're going to see Galactic w/ Mr. Lif & Chali 2Na tonight and basically carrying on like idiots for the next 2 days straight. i'd ask you to pray for our immortal souls, but i doubt that does any good. i got The Devil duct taped to a chair and there's gonna be hell to pay when i finally let his ass go... this is some bullshit i wrote about a month ago. it's supposed to be spoken, so it loses some momentum in writing. it's also kinda preachy and probably alot less nihilistic than i usually try to keeps it, but it comes from a place inspired by Sputnik & Lab Of Madness (if you haven't seen Murder Party yet, go get it now) Ghostwriter & Terror Optics (Goregasm was one of my favorite movies of the year) & Arajay & El-P & Damp Heat & Jimmy Robinson & NOFX & a couple other people who really floored me this year. you guys give me hope in the monkey farm.*
there ain't a damn thing special about me or you or you, the only thing that means anything is the things that we do. you gotta do that shit big, you gotta bring that shit epic, and never, not ever, let your soul grow septic.
cause each of us here, just got a handful of years, and that's to learn who we are, and that's to overcome our fears, and pass the chalk, and write your name on the wall up as high as you can and pray that it's too high to be whitewashed by the man, but even if you can, you still gotta understand, that one day that wall will be nothing but sand, cause nothing in this world lasts as long as we planned... 'cept for nothing.
do that one thing only you can do and do it louder than hell, and when you got that shit wired, it's your duty to tell, everyone who'll listen, from the big to the small, so we all can learn something, and maybe even evolve, and climb down out them trees and humanity solve, cause there's only so much time life can live on this ball, before the lights go out and we can't leave at all, you know you can't fly to Heaven on Monkey-Wings, y'all.
so live life with imagination and live it with love, do what you feel is right and when push comes to shove, don't forget that bigger picture, and observe from above, the rat mazes full of poisoned cheese & zombies who never seem to get enough, and once you see it you can't stop seeing it, cause it fits like a glove, and that's that, Happy New Year, Peace...Or The Extreme Lack There-Of.
wz3d
Currently
listening
:
Inferno/Averno
By
Entombed
Release date: 10 August, 2004
My God, They All Look Exactly The Same
Current mood: claustrophobic
Category: claustrophobic Blogging
i had a fuckin anxiety attack at work last night. there was a show for some *YOUR COLLEGE HERE* students, and, as they're coming in, they come by and order food from me. i'm trying to read the new Rue Morgue, so the first couple, i'm not even paying attention to. i just put away my mag and figure i'm gonna run and whip up this bullshit and get back to reading... but every time i look up in the monitor, there's another few waiting on me. at some point (i don't know when cause i wasn't paying attention) i had become pretty busy and now i gotta do something about it. so, i write down what i can remember and add the new orders and tell 'em it'll be a while (cool thing about cooking in a bar. usually, nobody even minds, cause they're on their way to get a beer while they wait).
i finish up the first 2 orders at once and bring 'em out, and when i walk back, there's a few more kids waiting on me. shit. i write their crap too and i go restart El-P "I'll Sleep When You're Dead", cause it's just about over and at this point, i need it. now i'm starting to get a few things done from this order and a couple things from that one and it's always a pain in the ass, but it's usually not too much of a problem. i finish something and run to bring it out, but can't really remember who had it. after asking two times and being wrong, i start getting slight tunnel vision and decide to just leave it on the counter and let Caleb babysit it. i'm feeling like somebody slipped something in my drink. i run to the kitchen and finish another order. when i come out, i walk straight up to the guy i know it's for and he looks at me like i just exposed myself. then it hits me:
"they all look the same. MY GOD, THEY ALL LOOK EXACTLY THE SAME."
it was so clear. like being able to read the brandname of a needle that is slowly inching its way into your eyeball. every single one of them. i'm not generalizing. a barroom full of Buddy Hollys & Lisa Loebs. even the couple of black kids are doing it. imagine walking into a crowd of 50 or 60 people and slowly realizing that you're the only person there and the rest are only maintaining their disguise long enough to tighten the screws.
it makes me feel old and it makes me feel isolated and it makes me afraid for my chosen path through this McDonaldLand. they stand around in little cliques, discussing one another's' clothes and hair and majors, while whichever one of their friends they're here to support cranks out song after endless song of droning wimpishness. "musicians" with technical skill that i can never hope to attain, flawlessly churning at the wheel of mediocrity. it doesn't matter anyway, cause the audience never breaks from the ongoing conversation, pausing only to clap and "Whhooo!" politely when they hear the music stop. that part, i see all the time.
all the "desensitizing" propaganda we've heard about violence and sexuality in "media", spouted like projectile vomit from the puppetheads of the conglomerates, was made of the same wool the zookeepers pulled so effortlessly over the eyes of the world. we all play our roles. the monkeys have been forcefed so many mind numbing years of CottonCandy posturing itself as "Rebellion" and "Art" that no one even realizes when they're regurgitating something that had already been eaten before when they consumed it. now all the cool kids say: "there's nothing you can think of that someone hasn't already thought of before" and the younger kids who are being bred to emulate them feast on this dogma and spew it into the gaping mouths of the next generation, until imagination is something kids do and the fads and trends that define us in our path to adulthood are transparent and cartoonish and strategically designed to become embarrassing. we turn our backs on the popular culture that we embraced for so many years in our young lives and discover that we still have no idea who we really are. all this time. gone. what was i even doing? a question that can be answered as easily as turning on the television and tuning into the programming provided for your new demographic. it knows how confused you are. it sympathizes with your condition (after all, it helped create your condition) and presents you with a mirror of who you used to be, but as seen through the eyes of who you're supposed to be now. you were a character in a cartoon, weren't you? pretty silly stuff, eh? oh well, there's plenty of life left to live and WE'RE ALL CRAZY AT THAT AGE.
go out and buy some pastel colored Polo shirts and straight legged bluejeans. throw away the thriftstore jacket and find a nice sweater, maybe from your old college. time to settle down and WORK for a living. have a couple kids and join the PTA. ACT LIKE A GROWN-UP. don't worry, i'll show you how. sorry you got so wrapped up in that earlier shit. that was some evil brainwash we been trying to do away with for years. it's already got the generation behind you in a stranglehold, only they're even MORE ridiculous...and DANGEROUS. beware the youth of these terrible times. hate them for their ignorance the way you fear The Old for forcing you to think about your ever-dwindling mortality.
am i preaching to the choir or is the choir a cardboard cutout placed in the loft as a joke from Ronald McD? a fold-up audience painted on a flat surface specially tailored to distract me from the fact that there is no one left and the only reason they've allowed me to continue is that i'm a picture-perfect example on how to be ignored?
you think i'd tell you if you WERE right?
peace...or the extreme lack there-of, wz3d
Currently
listening
:
Blade Runner
By
Vangelis
Release date: 21 June, 1994
It’s Finally The Other Half Of The Year
Current mood: chipper
*coffee & fall. i think i'm gonna start migrating all year long and live the rest of my life in the fall... whatever this is about to be pertains to New Orleans, or Louisiana in general...possibly just The South. i don't know how many of you Yanks will appreciate my love of The Cold*
the things you think and feel in fall are impossible in the summer, you're on the wrong side of the Earth for half the year which, don't kid yourself, is the actual length of it. spring is a pastel fairytale and winter is that one wet week when the pipes freeze and you bring the plants and dogs in.
summer's awesome if you live near the beach, but in The Dirty South, there ain't shit to do but sweat.
i woke up yesterday morning to the first real cool snap of the year, fresh, crispy-clean, alive, like vitamins in the air, like a high-five from God, it makes you run faster and jump higher, like a new pair of tennis shoes with the awesomest treads ever. every breath makes you happy you breathed it and you're already looking forward to the next.
walking around Downtown NOLA on a mid-summer Tuesday Night is like that episode of The Twilight Zone, when the Earth's getting closer & closer to the sun and everybody's either dead or praying to be. in October, with no agenda, it's still as empty, but there's a current that eases you along with it, you can't feel it cause you're moving at the same speed, but you'd know it if it wasn't there anymore.
it reminds you why you loved being here in the first place and you know the two of you got a few months ahead of you before that one day, when the air ain't so light anymore, and that current feels tired, it hardly recognizes you and you could give a shit either way, so you promise it, you promise the fall: This Is Our Year.
Sleep Tight Try Livin Right and Kiss My Ass As I Sail Off In The Night, wz3d
Currently
listening
:
None Shall Pass
By
Aesop Rock
Release date: 28 August, 2007
today is dildos. my bi-polar-itude (yeah, i made it up) has been off the damn map for weeks, so i go from ecstatic, rockstar zaniness to pathetic, awkward chump in the blink of an eye. Tom Waits makes me happy and pretty girls make me sad (you shoulda seen her last night, though). alcohol evens the whole mess out... well, either that or i just been hung over for 2-3 weeks, which would explain why i ain't gettin any brighter or shinier. but i probably wouldn't believe that anyway. God, i really am one of these fucking monkeys, ain't i, you huckster? we had a deal...
i'm a damned empty bucket filled with empty buckets. i reach down deep inside and pull out handfulls of nothing and offer it generously knowing that nothing will never be the price of swaying the outcome. nothing is shit and that i got plenty of. and yet i'm paralyzed. "shit thru a goose" my ass.
the Dancing-Fucking-Devils in my head are playing dice for my soul. they bounce 'em as hard as they can, off the backs of my eyes, you can see 'em if you look close enough. you can hear them shouting obscenities and taking cheap shots at my inability to properly communicate what i'm thinking.
one of them just made that up.
time to go to work. time to start all over again. stupid football game tonight. it'll probably be packed and deafeningly loud with SportsFags (it's ok. i call them that and they generally agree anyway). then a good show tonight. lots of way cool people to talk to. great. i hope i don't make an asshole of myself all weekend long. (you shoulda seen her last night, though).
blissful
fascinated
sore
bullied
groggy
mischievous
savage
chipper
drained
