OLDSCHOOL VAN HALEN EVEN INFLUENCED A GENERATION OF ATOMIC PUNKS PLAYING DRAFT BEER STICKY BASEMENT SHOWS ON HICKTOWN BILLS WITH THRASH BANDS
Remember that US FESTIVAL press conference bad blood between the hard rock camp and the new wavers? I was at reform school in South Eastern Kentucky that year but could not really pick a side. Part of me was all let me entertain you showbiz like Roth, and part of me was all power to the people like the Clash and MC5. Nothing’s changed.
Ya know I wake up early with the cows and roosters and turkeys and coyotes out here in the no man’s lands and kinda review my dreams as I make my coffee and I still have a lotta dreams about being in all those long dead flash metal suicide rocknroll gutter gangs back in the late eighties and first half of the nineties. last night me and my old sideman Nasty McBastard were gettin’ up to all kindsa dangerous shenanigans onstage at some heavy metal club with actual good lighting! I remember one run down white trash heavy metal hole from the old days had the big mondo deluxe stage lighting for every band that played whether you were the crummiest Megadeath cover band or the biggest, toughest Judas Priest homophobe macho dicks. Anyways, yeah, you know this song by heart, how we were part Fleshtones, Little Richard, Humpers, and part Van Halen but like a low budget Van Halen, always playing through pawn shop, second hand, hand me down equipment-Boogie had stolen me a microphone from some old high school music room he’d gone to. I mean we were peasants, real dead broke have nothings, except for Boogie who had a motorcycle and a real flash couple of drumkits.Somebody always ended up giving Nasty a van, probably to get him outta sleepin’ in their toolshed! The far out part was how we kept trying to connect with midwestern divebar punters even though we had these really outta style seventies glam influences like Alvin Stardust and Alice Cooper, Slade and T Rex, but with an angry sorta three chords and a grudge Deadboys style musical approach via nasty B, so we never really got outta the rut of playing those smalltown shitholes for rednecks that could not understand us, and objected strongly to the makeup, or punk rock basement shows with all hardcore bands except two token twerp Green Day imitator kid groups in the Post-Cobain era, but at least the forty ounce malt liquor in a brownbag and heavily tattooed punk kids and loud strippers could always dig where we were coming from, back then, at least on a less inebreiated night, we did not like to fuck around with too much in between song banter, we liked to whollop ’em with hit after hit and leave ’em singin’ our songs like the Stones audience on the way to the parking lot still singin’, “I say yeah, yeah, yeah, whoo!” Now summa the punks we played for went on to local stardom with their groups and even got selected to appear on fancy UK glossy metal mag compilations by my own former tv show partner long after we ourselves dissolved in a chaotic smoke of empty bottles and finger pointing and acrimony and broken down black band vans with skulls painted on the side, on the side of the road with that only so-so Cult album, “Between Good & Evil” blaring on the impressive sound system Nasty McBastard must have charmed offa some midwest farmer’s daughter. Last time I saw the old drummer, Boogie Jackson, He was shakin’ up some crazy strong zombie voodoo drinks from behind the bar at one of those hopeless old man dives in the midwest where everybody’s wearin’ the white stained unisex oversized Nascar t shirts, losin’ their teeth and lookin’ for some more crack. Our last ne’er do well bassplayer The Kid, he had more 90’s influences than we did-he liked Urge Overkill and Veruca Salt-always had a black eye from runnin’ his mouth off and started going to jail for varagrancy after spending his inheritance on drugs in Hollywood with his high school stoner friends and paying for the town’s token openers for bigname punk bands to go into the expensive, prestiegious, local rockstars recording studio to record a whiplash, absolutely outstanding barn burner cover of one of my songs.Wow man they really bashed it out with flair. It souned like Hardcore Superstar or Backyard Babies-slick sleaze metal par excellence, of course nobody knows I wrote it. Even still, all we did was laugh and laugh even amidst all the failure and humilation that awaits an Our Gang no budget, downwardly immobile band of junk shop glam, heathen rabblerousers in the school to prison pipleine flyover states of drive through fast food, Budweiser 24 packs and sports bar indoctrination tv slavery. We had a lotta crazy kicks together, Me and Nasty and the wild smiler drummer Boogie, but he was always in trouble with the law, basically for too much loud partying in a too small town. He was trying to live like an L.A. Sunset Strip rockstar poolside at the Riot House, I think we all were, but he was in a small rightwing cop and farmertown with flags on every corner. They’d see him comin’ from miles away, either cause he’s ridin’ his motorcycle on the sidewalk, wearing all black leather and atomic pink snowmobile sunglasses in the daytime banking hours and trying to negotiate girls back to his place two at a time before the bankers got off work, that kinda thing, eventually he wisedup and relocated to New Orleans where a more tolerant and artistic culture appreciates outlandish drummers with big personalities, if you’ve ever seen “Better Call Saul”, reimagine Saul Goodman as a heavy metal drummer and that’ll get you somewhere close. The wouldbe Steve Jones guitar desperado throwing all the big Billy Duffy poses in one of my old cowboy shirts he always stole and cut the sleeves offa to showoff his big muscular hulk smash arms with alll the flames and angels tattoos the original girl magnet Joe Perry lookalike lead shredder had given him when he was first learning how to tattoo before abandoning us for a professional career in straight society, the flame tattooed AC/DC guy misappropraited his current amplifier from a famous garage band who were supposed to produce us. There was a really popular collegetown band who were like a combination of the Chili Peppers and Pearl Jam and Soundgarden, who were very much of the time with Scott Ian from Anthrax style goatees and unbuttoned paisley shirts, Tarzan lifeguard chests, combat boots and shorts and flannel, who packed the nightclubs and I always thought their main appeal was that they were so loud, playing at Marshall stack Motorhead volume, that’s how they connected with all the straights and squares was mainly through volume. I saw them probably twenty times and don’t remember even one song. There was also a trust funded local franchise Cramps band and it was the same way-they weren’t really sayin’ nothing, just doing the standard local Cramps impersonation, but they also had really sweet equipment they were playing through loudly-they nicked an early drummer from us. They resonated with all the normals way better than we scrappy from the heart amateurs ever did but they were really kinda just doing the uptown haves version of our thing. Our brand of Stooges or Carmps punk rock was always sorta spiked with an extra dose of Animal House and Peter Zaremba. We had memorable songs, but they had more memorable tube amps and vintage echo machines, smoke machines, bougeoise confidence peddlers-they were part of the machine-everytime we crashed and burned, they got promoted. It is ongoing. By the textbook Sid Vicious punques from the college towns were all still in their greasy hot rod phase, 20 bands all playing dorky odes to Billie Joe and imitating the Queers and New Bomb Turks, so they did not know what we were doin’ up there with all the stadium rock exaggerated gesturing and good times pop anthems. The stuck even furthur back in the past than we were heavy metal elements, were all into like either Metallica caveman Cookie Monster vocals or the ear piercing police siren singing of those Iron Maiden types, so not all of them were as receptive to our more Zodiac Mindwarp influenced, Dollsy, glammy, trashy punknroll-that’s how it kinda went. We got a lotta hostility from the Metallica hicks, again, cause the makeup, but we successfully got whole rooms pogoing like poprcorn when we played for the punques, maybe one straight edge Minor Threat brooder kid would be frowing at us cause we drank and smoked onstage, flagrantly when that was still being phased out by the man. We knew we needed better gear if we were ever gonna resonate with these midwesterners who never really liked much rocknroll music, anyhow.I had auditioned this really good Eddie Hazel and Jim Hendrix influenced slick guitar player from the popular grunge and funk group to potentially replace our lost lad in a big loft in the millionaire side of town and while I was sorta improvising beat lyrics about how the trust fund nepo kids who’d flooded into our former college punk and indie underground were all gonna end up back at their parent’s country club in the next ten years, he looked at me and unforgettably said, “so it’s gonna be like the Trash Brats with Duran lyrics”? He was sayin’ it like it’s a bad thing, but he was not entirely wrong Of course, I was seein’ it more like the Four Horsemen with gonzo beat influenced Jim Morrison meets Joe Strummer lyrics, as I was still in my peak drunken black leather delusion of ramshackle, freestyle, anti gravity acidhead Dionysian lovegod feather boa grandeur. I felt like me and him coulda been a good songwriting combination but he thought I ws too wild and considered offensive by all the posh people he consorted with back then. I still like that guy. I just like him from afar cause I could never stand his friends and it was mutual. He was smart, talented and funny, I still have black sharpie cartoons he did of me while working at a punk boutique I used to visit while on our daily boring collegetown pub crawls. There was a class divide. That became a thing in the mid-90’s, for sure. We were said to be too punk for metal, too metal for punk, but the real problem was we sucked at making money. Money Changes Everything. Motherfuckers we loved who married up don’t even talk to us no more. Our friends who made it big in show business kinda underemphasize their associations with us now, when they used to sortof used to overemphasize their associations with us like a doorknob when they were on their way up, you feel me? To borrow a famous friend’s phrase, we were like “the Cramps without adequete food or shelter”.
I saw Diamond Dave and Steve Stevens playin’ with some corporate mercenary private show super group online yesterday-they were hammering out the hits for some Home Depot managers convention. Unreal! Once you got a taste of the tinsel you never stop wanting to return to glory, return to splendour, get back in the van and light out for desperate bars in distant cities with your scuzzbucket bandidoes and an unquenchable desire to light up the sky. No matter how old you get-it never goes away. I’m wearin’ a purple scarf right now.
Light Up The Sky- Van Halen 1979 – YouTube
The Clash perform “London Calling” (Live) – Fridays – YouTube
“All I think about is lost…” (-Richard Duguay)
“Trying to watch a little of the Grammys right now. Don’know if I’m just a bit too old, or a little too buzzed from a couple cocktails… What happened to rock ‘n’ roll??? ” (-Michael Anthony of VAN HALEN)
“I said, ‘No, no: it works both ways. We want the freedom to be ourselves, to say what we like, even though it offends some other people. I gotta let him be who he is and say what he likes, even though it offends me, because that’s freedom.” (-Real Artist and Free Speech Advocate, Melissa Etheridge, on censorship and cancel culture calls to boycott LCD mooks like Eminem)
“US arrogance is writ large all over the world, including in the perhaps little known Hague Invasion Act passed by Congress and signed by George W. Bush in 2002, roughly seven months before the US attacked Iraq.
Formally known as the American Service-Members’ Protection Act, this choice bit of legislation makes it lawful—not internationally, but lawful according to US statute—for the US to invade the Netherlands to save any US official, service member, or citizen, or those of any of its allies, should they ever be brought before the International Criminal Court, no matter how heinous or well-documented the crime.
This is US arrogance taken into a fabulist realm, but why should we be surprised? Last December it was announced that the US Navy’s next amphibious assault ship LHA-9 will be the USS Fallujah.” (-Ann Garrison)
ANTHONY CASTILLO FROM SLOW MOTORCADE ON THE HOLLYWOOD STARS
The Hollywood Stars were a cool band and a strange band at the same time. Thier first album was released on Arista Records in 1977, when punk rock was in full swing worldwide. They were a band more suited for a 1975 record release. To be fair, the first Cheap Trick album was also released in 77, though Chep Trick, while also very melodic, were more of an arena hard rock band than a big power pop band like the Stars. I saw the Stars as the last gasp of velvet blazer, jumpsuit, ruffled shirt, flared trouser, cool haircut, big power pop rock bands, in the mold of the Raspberries, Arrows, Nick Gilder and others. Don’t get me wrong,1975 is maybe my favorite year in rock’n’roll. I love that one year that was the transition from Glitter Rock to Punk Rock. Some really great stuff come out of that year/time period, stuff like Dwight Twilley Band, Rick Derringer, The Arrows, Ian Hunter’s first solo release, The Dictators and much more. I knew of the Stars, but I remember buying the Hollywood Stars record on the cover alone, the look of the band, seeing Kim Fowley as co-song writer was good enough for me. When I got home and played the LP, I was pleasantly surprised. While Mark Anthony’s voice was a little dramatic in tone, songs like the first track “All the Kids on the Street”, “Make it to the Party”, and the heartbreaking “Sunrise on Sunset” were great then, they stand the test of time and still sound great today. Give them a listen you might be surprised at what you may have missed.
The Hollywood Stars (facebook.com)
NEWS, SPORTS & WEATHER DESK
Noam Chomsky on COINTELPRO – YouTube
US Occupiers Lash Out as Syria War Draws to an End (consortiumnews.com)
“No other way to say it now: my former colleagues in mainstream media are spineless, corrupt, amoral fuckwits.” (Matt Taiibi)
DEMOLITION 23
From a young age, I always got hired on as like the resident punk at record stores. greedy capitalists loved me even though I could be a surly kid, and always kinda looked weird compared to normies they preferred to hire on, mostly because I made them lots and lots and lots of money. I was no record store snob because I have always believed that real music made from the heart appealed to all of humanity’s better nature and wanted to get people listening to the good stuff, the real soul and punk and rebel rockers, cause I think good music makes us better people. Now I can remember when that dumb movie “High Fidelity” came out, several people tried to accuse me of being a record store snob because I was never as into the post grunge, contrived “altenrnative” that was forcefed on everybody by the big corporations. I was not as into Soundagrden or Nirvana or D-Generation or New Bomb Turks as most other people seemed to be. I already had my own music I believed in, so the whole “hello hello hello how low” thing was never as mindblowing to me as it was to all the civilians who’d come flooding in to Tower Records on snowy days. I prided myself however on steering customers towards quality rocknroll though, cause that’s what my old record store guru, Dave A. had done for me so I always figured it was sortof my responsibility and moral debt and obligation to let all the people, even the Harvard dickheads, know that there was better music on the shelves than what they were consuming based on bullshit marketing and repetition airplay. In spite of all my class resentments, I felt it was only fair and honest to try n hip the mad herds to Mother Love Bone or Thee Hypnotics even though the man was pushing Alanis Morissette and Matchbox 20. I was getting sick of richkids though-it was hard being a broke pauper in Cambridge, Ma., with all that insane New England class privilege and class snobbery and excess money floatin’ all around me, gettin’ pressured by the inlaws to somehow magically produce More Money, and every girl at the cash register asking me about Evan Dando. My first girlfriend came to town to go to a prestiegious school and I was having all these fantasies of escaping a spiraling living situation by moving in with her, so I took the day off work to take her to the House Of Blues and by the third drink, she was asking me if I could maybe introduce her to Evan Dando. Fast forward to maybe three years later…
I ended up working for a real asshole at a bigger city recordstore who sexually harrassed his female employees, verbally abused all the males, tried to only hire namebrand hipsters with indie record deals who he poured favoritism on and made us lower ranking underlings work all their extra hours when they were on tour while salaried, which meant I was getting no additional moolah for fifteen extra hours, he threw a drunk homless guy on the ground and made the elderly oldster bleed unremorsefully and I was thinkin’, “but for the grace of God there go I”, and then, he gave me massive psychological shit for failing to rip off the public sufficiently when buying used cd’s for resell, and started accusing me of stealing from him, and going into gross, explicit rants about how attractive certain women I used to date were, so yeah I quit that place and never looked back, and a chick I dated walked because of it. Such is life. So then…
So there I was, mindin’ my own business, probably thinkin’ ’bout some girl, smokin’ on the job, which was still a thing you could do freely back then. Smokin’ while kinda leisurely putting used cd’s away for a former co worker of mine who’d done good with the inheritance and selling bootlegs and had his own store that he promoted via his own radio show that I think my old girlfriend the Famous Radio Personality helped him wrangle. He’d play all this absolute shite Nu Metal for the rural smalltown farmboys in that area code and they’d all flock to his tiny record store in their pickup trucks to purchase all the latest Korn and Limp Bizkit, all that vile dumbfuck shit and puke, while his brother ran a tiny balloon and pizza delivery and beer drive through in the same building. Some pudgy kids from the suburban honky schools I’d been kicked out of for having No Doze in my locker and wearing too much makeup and hairspray in tribute to my idols of Hanoi Rocks and Lords Of The New Church, these kids came in being real familiar with the shopkeep, turned out the blonde one was his cousin, and one of ’em was lookin’ at me funny cause I’d shaven my head in a cruel mood sudden burst of artistic fervor and it was still growin’ back out slowly, plus I was wearing a pair of like leopardskin glasses frames and he asked me if I’m myself and yeah, of course I am, and he started excitedly babbling to me about how he’d heard all the wild stories about my long forgotten teenage bands and the bandhouse we used to have week long tristate hootennannies at, and the crazy muscle cars we spraypainted with skulls in dayglo colors out in the yard and the former bassplayer’s smalltown celebrity, and the other former bassplayer’s smalltown celebrity, and the former drummer’s zaney ska band, and didn’t I used to date this girl and that girl and that girl and this girl, how he was in a new band with the other former drummer, but he was also hoping to enlist all my other former bandmates to play for his pop/punk era group who were kinda like the Violent Femmes and Green Day. You can imagine my excitement. So yeah, both of these kids were real suburban dudes, totally superfunded by their parents with the surplus income streams and nice cars and one of ’em was on his way to recording engineering school right after graduation and can I introduce him to Somebody Famous he heard I might know down there and of course they started playing senior year hookey all the time and showing up everyday by eleven to quiz me about rocknroll and the shopkeep was delighted cause these bozos wer buying hundreds and hundreds of dollars worth of cd’s, big stacks of ’em, anything I said I liked-Action Swingers, Thee Hypnotics, Warrior Soul, MC5, Sam Cooke, Standells, Louis Prima, or Funkadelic, it all went on the big stacks. Usually I’m not always so inclined to give Nu Metal DJ’s on commercial classic rock stations and their eager beaver capitalist protegees master classes in rocknroll hoochie koo, but like I said, I was goin’ through some life changes at the time, living in a $90 a week motel room, not eating, and spending all the money I made by smokin’ cigarettes and tellin’ stories to rich kids from deepest suburbia on vodka I bought from the drivethrough. The bigmouthed overconfident one savvily suggested they become my backup band if I wanted to get back to performing some shows at the little hole in the wall bars in the middle of nowhere, where they claimed I still had a big fanbase of people who remembered me, the local bands who were popular by then were all in my old band’s audiences, and they brought a whiz kid guitar player overto meet me in my sodden state at the motel late one night, he seemed like a nice enough kid. I summoned my former rhythm guitar player the AC/DC guy from three towns over and we commenced to teach the bigmouthed overconfident bassplayer our old punk rock set, like twenty two minutes of hit n run grudge-pop, and he claimed he was gonna whip his boys into shape and book us a gig and yada yada yada. This went on for less than six months probably cause I was gettin’ bored and restless without wheels or womanly companionship, I was alwys stuck either on that wooden stool at the record shop humoring these chubby brats or back at the lonely motel room, listening to cassette tapes I asked those kids to make me on a borrowed boombox the shopkeep loaned me. Some of that music they were buying by the trunkload that I could never afford from the fifty dollar Johnny Thunders Bootlegs to the seventyfive dollar double cd import only Australian bluespunk geniuses I always wax devoted about, Beasts Of Bourbon and affiliates. These kids bought up all that stuff just cause I said I liked it, all the spinoff bands and side projects-the Cruel Sea, the Surrealists, all the Hanoi affiliated stuff. It was kinda weird seein’ these two dudes with all that money to burn but they were buying musical equipment based on my merest say so, too, and I’m not even a tech-guy, I’m not a musician, just a streetpunk shouter like Joe Strummer so anything I like is just born out of aesthetics or affinities. So yeah they made me a cassette tape of the DEMOLITION 23 record and I was tellin’ ’em how this was exactly the kinda punk rock I needed to get back into doin’. Some other customers came in who’d seen me and the AC/DC guy take over at some sports bar mostly dominated by Pearl Jam coverbands, we went up there one shitfaced drunk nad bleary night and blasted out some old Alice Cooper and Deadboys covers and everybody kinda went crazy over it, then, the old ladies from the record store in the mall who would never give me a job because I had a bad reputation and they said my hair was too long, they’d come in to the store remembering shows me and the lads had played at some shit nowhere downtown bar called the Mill Cafe where all the girls were screamin’, so these two dorks are takin’ all this in and maybe they were kinda just hustling me for ideas and information, but it wouldn’t matter anyways cause I’m all about spreading the Gutter Gospel and promoting the real good music I believe in to all the people, if they were here today, I’d be tellin’ ’em all about the new Richard Duguay record, ya know? That’s how I am, but one morning I woke up and just had that sense of fuck this, there’s gotta be more to like than just selling hundreds of 60 Ft Dolls cds to Doofus Punques from deepest white suburbia for my get rich former co worker the inheritance guy done good on bootlegs and I took twenty five bucks outta the cash drawer and with some cash I had left from the past week, I had less than a hundred bucks and a pack of cigarettes and it was time. I just got on a Grayhound and left that town. About six months later, those guys had been into the recording studio like ten times, had relesed three or four singles, a couple different cds, changed the name of their doofus band, moved to the nearby collge town, recruited my old bandmates including my Boston sax playing roommate and become totally overnight famous in the region kinda doing a hybrid of my thing and their thing. It is always startling to see what can be accomplished with a big budget in no time at all-all that money buys. Next time I saw those kids was online, they were all wearing MC5 shirts and stalking Michael Davis. Mike’s a good guy, or was, so he not only encouraged all those kids, but their brother band from my same fuckedup tankplant highschool town who were Beastie Boys whiteboy rappers also overnight became big garage rock Hanoi Rocks/MC5 fans with a good. loud drummer I kept that Demolition 23 casssette the guy I used to think was way, way, way overconfident made for me and he’d thoughtfully recorded a solo Mike Monroe cd on the other side for me, or maybe it was a compilation of stuff from Mike albums I could never afford, but I remember loving a song called, “Where’s The Fire, John” cause that was my ex bassplayer’s name who joined all the popular well funded kid bands in the college town. Made me wanna ask him that same question. Another song that really slayed me was called “Loneliness Loves Me More”, and hell, you might know my desert ghost town part time band is called the Loneliness, not named from that song really, probably more “When Doves Cry” or my general state of being. Their cover of “Machinegun Etiquette” was just an assault, really, they tore that tune apart. “Scum Lives On” was Our Heroes on full blast heavy doses of Little Steven, Stiv Bators and the Clash doin’ the kinda righteous right on, say it, brother testimony we’ve been known to do ’round here. “Nothing’s Alrite” sang about different generations and how we were all gettin’ dumbed down and numbed out on cable, big pharma prescription pills, and the mass hallucination hypnospell since Bush/Cheney. My anthem for quite awhile was “Hammersmith Palais”. I wasn’t havin’ no fun, either. I remained resentful about how the record store loitering lurkers all got to be in superfunded superfamous collegetown legendary, go on tour, level bands with a cannibalized version of my old crew, but that’s how it is, right? Money talks, bullshit walks. I’m still a pedestrian in a packs of pitbulls desert town and I still aint got no bread to shellout on the WICKED COOL records re-release of the Demolition 23 cd with the bonus tracks, but you probably do, so have at it, brothers and sisters and friends of the revolution and you leeching capitalist cover band garage rawkers in the back with the credit cards, too.
RICHARD DUGUAY ASTONISHES ME!
I know I keep sayin’ it but when you finally get that beautifil LP with the gatefold cover and lyric sheet in your hands and play the new Richard Duguay record, you’re not gonna be able to stop playing it for a long time. I know you won’t believe me until you hear it, but pick your favorite Bowie, Cooper or Doors record. it’s approximately that good. Music for the ages. He reminds me of me. Sings like Alice and Zodiac, but with some down on the streets Tom Waits soul. He is exceptional though, really just top notch Olympian level greatness at every level, the lyrics, the songs, the threads. Beautiful Decline is gonna outlive you and me.
Richard Duguay (richard-duguay.myshopify.com)
Richard Duguay – Paradise Is Gone – YouTube
WATERBOYS ARE STILL GOOD MEDICINE
Most people I still know are pretty traumatized by all the WW3 brinksmanship and war profiteering scumbag chickenhawks playing chcicken with nukes and zillion dollar proxy armies and tv lies and unreality. If you’ve managed to stay human after the past five to twentyfive years of being punishingly pounded with hate and fear propaganda, cheers to ya. I’ll share a holistic medicinal home remedy with you, my brothers and sisters and friends of the revolution this morning. THE WATERBOYS. Especially “This Is The Sea” and “Fisherman’s Blues”. Those records are like old whiskey. They’ll heal what ails ya.
The Waterboys – Fisherman’s Blues (Athens 21/11/2019) – YouTube
December (2002 Remaster) – YouTube
A Girl Called Johnny (2002 Remaster) – YouTube
The Waterboys. Haldern Festival 2007. 10 The Raggle Taggle Gypsy. – YouTube
Too Close to Heaven (2013 Remaster) – YouTube
THE WATERBOYS 🎵 THIS IS THE SEA 🎵 Full Original Album 1985 ♬ HQ AUDIO – YouTube
The Waterboys – Fisherman’s Blues (High Quality) – YouTube
DUMB, DUMBER, DUMBEST
Psy-ops are a thing. Culture war is a big red herring distraction from empire’s war on ten other countries, censorship, selective law enforcement targeting journalists, whistle blowers and nature preservers. We all know corporate media never talks about real shit like crazy povery, insane rents and Wall street greedhead inflation, only diversionary divisions intended to keep the people fighting rather than uniting against the Billionaire Agenda that hides behind puppets and phony headline grabs. If you know the empire does not care about poor people anywhere, you should know they don’t really care about any marginalized communities except when they can be used or manipulated to advance a shady agenda of some kind.
If you think offensive speech is the same thing as violence, you have probably never been repeatedly queerbashed by mobs of rednecks in real life, or beaten unconscious by oversized hockey players trying to court favor with grunge years Less Than Zero hipster wannabe drug cliques. I lived in places that are permanent middle school, where the same old preppies whose sports moms always rewarded their bad behaviors and bought them their big golden trophies and sports car and biggest cake birthday parties, way back when, are still monoplizing the town’s resources and ruling over their minions like Baby Doc junior despots. Terrible, tightknit in crowd scenes where all the goony sycophantic followers just unconditionally worshipped at the feet of these sicko sadist money holders, drug sons of rich people, no matter how abusive or ugly the fratboys behaved, all the suckup bimbos and weak minded follower, adult cartoon quoting, Foo Fighter fanboy suckup wimps and swetty gamers just praised their names as holy innovating rockstar playboy messaiahs and continue to, decades later. These local gentry guys did nothing of value but ran some businesses for rich people and dealt some drugs on the sly. and became like symbolic can’t lose place holders for powerful entities, they had a third hand whiff of authority, and executive entitlement as Max Headroom lookalike drug sons of rich CEO’s, and that was enough to continue to impress the mad mobs of mediocrity, the hamburglars and secretaries just applaud anything that vaguely signals money in the bank. As horrified as I was by the casually committed atrocities of the bully class, what really left the deep imprint on my frail psyche was all the complicit scene of the crime smilers who celebrated their corruption and brutality like in those old postcards of lynchmob hangings, where you’d see all those white people smiling. That’s the part I can’t get past, am haunted by-the blindly obedient followers.So afraid of losing a parcel of their belonger privilige, the free drink tickets and easy jobs mean way more to the tv brainwashed rah rah Black Friday shoppers than anything like right and wrong. The spectator society that seem to love brute violence. That is still crazy as fuck to me, but even old friends I use to know and revere all fell like dominoes into that dummy paradigm of asskissing all the local Hunter Bidens and Jared Kushners and enabling five privileged abusers to shit on whoever they want, whenever they want, however they want, forever, amen. I figure that must be how these corporations get away with it, they get everybody to carry a little complicity and involvement and repeat their lies and swear their alliegence to the frathouse system in exchange for their membership. I figure there will always be some shady sociopaths who get off on throwing their weight around and keeping a boot on the necks of the less powerful, but I never bought into the old saw about how that’s just how people are, it’s just the way of things and we all gotta get in line with the hut twos and accept it or else. If all people were just bullies or moral cowards, there would not have been so many people’s movements and the billionaires would not have to weaponize all media and invest so many billions into fanatical narrative control and all day censorship. I take heart from the people of France who have risen up against their tyrannical, oppressor ruling class dictators trained by the Future Fascist Schools. If somebody tells you to do harm, or that killing or beating someone is for democracy and popularity or any false cause, tell ’em to go fuck themselves. Even if it means you lose your Saturday night headliner status at the gentrification lounge. Universities are so completely infiltrated with identity politricks fraudsquad feelings thinly veiling ballsout warpiggery nowadays and people are so corporate narrative bamboozled, there’s been like two and a half generations tricked into believing that wars of empire are for transkids freedom and women’s rights, and that rewriting old novels or censoring naughty words from classic books is somehow progressive. It’s not. You’re being lied to and duped by facking nazis who offer you a bullshit Zuckbot Metaverse Unreality Show where rich techlords decide what you are allowed to like or think or quote or remember and that if they sweep all the historical unpleasantries back underneath your fucking Amazon paisley carpet, you’ll have more attention for their Netflix n chill new world order conditioning and online shopping. I say, “Fuck That Shit”. Censoring history or rewriting books is not progressive, people, it’s marketing. PR bullshit. Fakeass unreality. Resist the NWO. Remember the past, learn from history, you can’t just memory hole everything that feels ikky and repeat nonsense slogans about Lil Nas X is the new Marvin Gaye or Obama is MLK Jr’s dream come true, this is corporate bullshit. AOC does not care about poor people-she herds ’em into the forever wars meatgrinder, exactly the same as Mitch McConell and Lindsey Graham and Obama. Stop worshipping “popularity” puppets. Stop trusting your tv.
Rage Against The Machine – Killing In the Name (Official HD Video) – YouTube
Jimmy Dore on Twitter: “How is water used to make things wet?” / Twitter
Dr. Jill Stein🌻 on Twitter: “RIP, US justice.” / Twitter
Dr. Jill Stein🌻 on Twitter: “Exactly. The lesser evil’s over. On with the greater good.” / Twitter
LIES, CORRUPTION, GREED & PHONY CULTURE WARS
Biden Administration demanded crackdown on “vaccine-skeptical” WhatsApp chats (reclaimthenet.org)
In their own words: A comprehensive list of musicians who admit to taking the oath – Vigilant Links
JUST LIKE IN FLINT & BP ECOCIDE IN THE GULF, THE FALSE-MEDIA DID A WATER DRINKING POLITICIANS PHOTO OP THEN MOVED ON, INDIE WATCHDOGS STATUS COUP STAYED ON THE GROUND!
these judges aren’t elected but appointed by the ruling class for the ruling class Steven Donziger on Twitter: “BREAKING: In a huge blow to the rule of law, the US Supreme Court today let stand Chevron’s prosecution and 3-year detention of me after helping Indigenous peoples win the historic Amazon pollution case. Gorsuch dissented: “Our Constitution does not tolerate what happened here.” https://t.co/qVpXyQnhyH” / Twitter
MORNINGTIME IN THE COLD DESERT
Man I feel for everybody who is so viscerally ill affected by these mass shootings that have become so common, epecially traumatized kids, parents and teachers. The other people soapboxing about it are usually just repeating their partisan memo, hometeam talking points. The new cold war, pro censorship fauxwoke karens of the got-mine fake left wanna ban all the guns and just trust the nice policemen to protect them. They figure they will provide an essential service as a snitch for the Gates Reset and will get to keep all their special microchip, first in line, electric car privileges and VIP parking and shit. The rightwingers wanna keep assault grade military weapons easily accessible and in the hands of white supremacist white property owners. People like me just annoy all our former associates cause we always keep pointing out how the nonstop glorification of violence by all copagandizing pigmedia worship of a supposedly so heroic man in a uniform kicking in somebody’s door wherever Exxon or Chevron or Nestle or whatever big Wall Street oligarch’s firm want to loot more oil like in Syria with Genie Energy is part of the bloodsoaked culture of violence problem. How can tv watchers keep complaining about “RUSSIA!” while their own Dem administration keeps couping countries in the global South and kidnapping their leaders? They sent their proxies to bust into the Pakistan leader’s home cause he said he does not want Biden flying drones out of his country. The secret police mercenaries kidnapped the democratically elected leader of the Peruvian people-Castillo, a farmer, and killed many protestors in Peru, I mean all this horrible shit is happening right now while tv keeps motherfuckers talking about bullshit. Murkkka’s ongoing occupation of the lower oil rich third of Syria’s sovereign land is somethin’ no safespace know it all sensitivity shitlibs ever wanna talk about. The empire’s shameless social engineers even gave an Oscar to a propaganda flick claiming the false flag proxy war mercenary looters who invaded Syria were savior humanitarians and shitlib celebrities like MIchael Moore never said shit to contradict that fictitious script, it’s all connected, the military budget, the imperilaism, Bernie Sander’s sellout to the DNC, the empty virtue singaling of the fake left that has replaced reading or action, the racist kkkops, the perpetually offended and outraged Kalltha Kkkops Karyns, the fake history whitewash in our schools, the corruption of the media and universitives by Pentagon funding, and all platforms of corporate media selling more coups and imperialist provocations and glorifying these memory holed warpigs like Cheney and Obama and Colin Powell and Bolton and Condoleeza just creates a relentless culture of dead kids, which some of the psychopathic billionaire “philanthropists” have REPEATEDLY said out loud they want, in order to cull the herd, depopulate the world so they can blame the enviornment on poor people and never have to alter their own elitist jetset private plane fuckedup war culture that causes all the damage. Karyns care about kittens and pollution but they can’t bring themselves to admit very often that the biggest polluter is the military cause they all have that one relative who served, and therefore the whole institution, must be somehow sainted. Also, Obama. Namaste, motherfuckers.
James Rehwald on Twitter: “Join the CIA today https://t.co/BeOqNzjlSH” / Twitter
HEROIC FRENCH FIGHT THE NWO!
WAR IS BAD & SO ARE THESE SHADOWY CORPORATE RULERS WHO PROFIT FROM LYING TO YOU
Chris Hedges: The Dangerous Bifurcation of the United States – Dandelion Salad (wordpress.com)
TRUE Stories About Vaccines CENSORED On Twitter – YouTube
CLARITY PRESS – Addressing the urgent issues of our time
US Bombs Syria Two Weeks After House Vote Against Withdrawing Troops (commondreams.org)
Craig Murray: Why Would China Be An Enemy? (consortiumnews.com)
ATROCITY FABRICATION AND ITS CONSEQUENCES: How Fake News Shapes World Order – CLARITY PRESS
Caitlin Johnstone: US is the Leader Because It Says So (consortiumnews.com)
Sanders Unveils Report Debunking Starbucks’ Claim to Be a ‘Progressive’ Company (commondreams.org)
mRNA is Murder on Twitter: “Macron’s let them eat cake moment. #France #WEFpuppet” / Twitter
Veteran Explains Iraq Wasn’t A Mistake; It Was A Lie Based On ‘A New World Order’ – YouTube
UNDERSTANDING THE WAR INDUSTRY – CLARITY PRESS
“”Do you know what oligarchy is? It’s the government of the rich. And democracy is the government of the people. So they don’t want a government of the people” (-AMLO)
YOU GOT GOOD TASTE!
Peter Murphy – The Bewlay Brothers (David Bowie) – o2 Islington Academy 18/5/16 – YouTube
The Waterboys – We Will Not Be Lovers (High Quality) – YouTube
Jimmy Barnes – Working Class Man (Official Video) – YouTube
Doc Neeson – The Voice of The Angels | Facebook
Little Richard: I Am Everything Trailer #1 (2023) – YouTube
Hooray for Hollywood | Singles Bar (i94bar.com)
Spencer P. Jones – Execution Day – YouTube
Beasts Of Bourbon – Just Right – YouTube
The Scientists Blood Red River (1983) – YouTube
Elvis Costello & the Imposters with Charlie Sexton – Feb 22, 2023 – The Gramercy NYC – YouTube
PRINCE vs THE MACHINE The EDit – YouTube
STAY WILD! STAY FREE! DEFEAT THE NEW WORLD ORDER! AS JILL STEIN SEZ, “ONTO THE GREATER GOOD!”
Veglam 
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