Saturday, August 13, 2011

Same shit, different Saturday, or, nothing can kill the Grimace
















 

There's a riot in my heart but my TV's not plasma
Vodka swilled burns the blood hotter than plasma --

hey, if Geezer can rhyme masses & masses in the greatest antiwar song in the history of recorded music in this our universe, parallel #11253-A, fuck off, but not until after you gather round for I shall tell you a tale of a second sight(ing).

I see helium.*

*high pitch lexicon

Once, when work-studied by the UofA, some of us chemistry department stockroomers (in league with our boss; that bug-eyed dude, coincidentally named Ted, was a subterranean oddity), when not stealing chunks of sodium (and other things)** to toss into nearby bodies of water, tied a bunch of garbage bags together, lifted a partially-empty tank from an abandoned lab, filled 'em up & launched the dirigible of a thousand faces. I think it eventually landed on the roof of the JAR, so we students left & got drunk on American beer because that, & garbage like Mad Dog & Yukon Jack, was all the Exchange Street shopkeep stocked, the only place nearby that would sell to underage cannon fodder. Closing ceremonies, blotto air guitaring to Rust In Peace.

**If so inclined, I really could have been an effective, if short-lived, terrorist, but what was there to fuck up in 1991 Rubber City besides rusty shackles & Fords. 

Today, off, & limey footie starts (big four/five/whatever yawn but at least it's not La Liga -- about fucking time -- please, Arsène, for purely aesthetic reasons, don't locate a D -- Balotelli eats babies, slicking his mohawk with their greasy Gerber blood -- fynd, dinas Abertawe!) & 'tis to rain which assuredly will keep me in front of the telly, precipitate being powerful enough to stave off darkthroning, all of the above moot since an attempt at faux biographical fiction's gonna kill me something dead because, for once, I'm trying.

I don't drink vodka, so next time, lighter-than-airists, drop some vino, yo.

Writing is hard.

Almost forgot, politics, politics, politics, satanic dums, spineless goopers, bloat, democracy, fart, I wanna be anarchy, fool's gold is up to $1800 an ounce a day keeps the gunmen at bay, bunga-bunga, seven deadly words, seven dirty sins, drinkin' & screwin' in an orderly fashion, I'm hungry like a first worlder, relax I'm no Boy Scout, anti-preparedness'll get this complicity killed during American Riot, you're welcome, giant carbon feet. The world's gonna end bloody no matter what, today, tomorrow, Quetzalcoatl, August 5th 2037 mark it down, prepare in your own special way with special sauce, I have my albums.

Amen.

14 comments:

Beach Bum said...

**If so inclined, I really could have been an effective, if short-lived, terrorist, but what was there to fuck up in 1991 Rubber City besides rusty shackles & Fords.

As mush as half-formed dreams of terrorizing the comfortable and narcissistic masses bitching about those evil liberals float through my brain I realize to be an effective American terrorist you are required to wear a thousand dollar suit and command legions of corporate lawyers or be "elected" to office and have launch codes for cruise missiles.

Randal Graves said...

If we're in favor of accuracy, & who isn't, redefining the word to 'heads of state' is a start.

Mary Ellen/Nunly said...

Something in this world is askew...I like the music today.

You can't be a terrorist Randal 'cuz you're too smart to load up your bvd's with explosives...no matter how drunk you are.

Karl Franz Ochstradt said...

Sodium into water is one of nature's great bits o' fun!

And I don't know, dude... the Hamburglar might be a good match for the Grimace.

ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

I'm rating for the music, too. But I'm usually happy with R.G.'s choices (in music).
~

Jim H. said...

How'd they manage to get such a tiny blimp to stay up? Remote control?

Albums, heh. Old geezer.

Tom Harper said...

I thought it was Same Saturday Different Shit.

Nice sounds from Jerry Cantrell.

zencomix said...

I had tickets to see Black Sabbath on Good Friday, 1986, at the Glens Falls Civic Center, NY. The show was cancelled, allegedly, by the city council because it was Black Sabbath, and it was Good Friday.

The closest I came to seeing them live was seeing Furious Howard Brown play War Pigs at The Fox Theater in Boulder, CO, sometime in the mid 90s. The drummer played with one arm in a sling, but they still kicked ass!

susan said...

I've decided that when the time comes to choose up sides I'm backing the Orcs over the Undead. At least they don't obsess about brains.

thatgirl said...

At least the soundtrack to the imminent apocalypse is pure awesomeness, I guess?

It was a Jerry day for me too, and I got some mail from some school in Virginia where they teach an entire class on the entity that is Black Sabbath.

David Barber said...

I'm all rioted out!! I will try harder to pop over more often, buddy. Hope all is well with you and yours.

Love the tune!!

Randal Graves said...

nunly, everyone acts as if all I play is black metal. Coming up this week, nothing but black metal.

Let's not talk about what I did or didn't do whilst loaded.

karl of the österreich, oh man, and there were BIG chunks of the stuff, entire rolls of magnesium strip. Sigh, good times.

Wouldn't the Hamburglar be busy chowing down on stolen, nay, LOOTED(!) burgers, thus providing an opportunity to the Grimace for extra sneaky assassinating?

if, thank you. I'm glad someone appreciates the non-thought I put into blogging choices.

jim, actually, there was an even bigger blimp above holding it up. We got ILM to wipe the strings from the shot.

Well, CDs, but albums sounds cooler.

tom, that's Groundhog Day, no?

zencomix, 1986? Oh man, that was essentially Iommi solo; even Geezer had split by then. Didn't Glenn Hughes get sick and they had to get Ray Gillen to fill in the rest of the tour?

susan, hmm, not an attractive choice, but you might be right, especially if the zombies are of the 28 Days Later variety. I'm not that fast.

thatgirl, I don't think humanity will get that lucky. Try top 40. Damn you, Wormwood.

I'm transferring to Virginia. So long, suckers.

david, I hope you scored one of those plasmas, or at least a new pair of sneakers - sorry, trainers. Weirdo Brits!

Demeur said...

So I see nothing changed in twenty years (earlier) since I graced the ivy covered halls except the materials used. Our M/O involved a dry cleaning bag, drink straws and birthday candles. But we had to wait for a cold calm night for launch, a draw back.
Hey what about the Boone's Farm Apple wine? Or did that become retro?

Lisa said...

I've got a bottle of cheap red and an eyedropper. Gotta make it last, right?