Frogger, deconstruct D)all of the above*
*did jam ninja-ly** to a stack of Darkthrone discs this weekend so hail hail rock and/or roll for truth in advertising for once
**sans air guitaring and/or neck wrecking***
***one wreck's good n' plenty****
****do "they" still make these?*****
*****I know "they" still puke out the great taste of Charleston Chew******
******66, the number of the beast, ******66, the one for you and me
Monday, July 29, 2013
Doing the right thing
Posted by Randal Graves at 7:01 AM 12 commentaires
Labels: fenriz weekend, music, this is getting old and so are you
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Trust no one especially me
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Posted by Randal Graves at 3:33 PM 11 commentaires
Labels: teevee, the club days
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Am I evil?
Blood on Satan's Desert Island.
What's that nagging, needling, niggling Ipecac wretcher called when there's a billion blatherers dying to upchuck on a zillion chunks of this, that, t'other but, lo! out the black blood of the earth! a quadrillion don't cares have erected a Godzilla-sized Erector set bricked up with Lego bricks of adamantium that even a doped-up Ghidorah can't fuck with?
Albums make much better companions than people.
Now, back to your regularly scheduled egads-a-thon.
Posted by Randal Graves at 12:11 PM 12 commentaires
Labels: music, why don't you both shut up
Monday, July 8, 2013
When it's cold, and when it's dark, the freezing moon can obsess you
Jesus H. Cthulhu, I hate summer. Fuck this fucking season.
Posted by Randal Graves at 2:38 PM 18 commentaires
Labels: black hole sun, music