24 April, 2012

Whetting my wit.

Soon I'll give my final presentation for English Comp II. Three minutes is the requirement. Five to seven minutes and it counts for your final. I've yet to make any formal plans, but I'm banking on being able to stand up there and wax bullshit for about 8 or 9, easy. That'll just be me warming up. If I got a flask on me, I'll have 'em staring at their cell phones nervously, on the edge of their seats with their backpacks on. English Comp. II, though. It's not a difficult class, - cryptic at times, perhaps - but for the most part Miss Patterson - despite having one broad shouldered member of the student body drop out shortly after the midterms for an inexplicable, but highly speculated upon reason - Miss Pat Patterson, as I was saying, she takes it easy on us. Perhaps on herself, too. She's tenured, I think. Used to teach at Duquesne. Daughter of a minister. Great lady, really. Wears these too cute all matching outfits of block color, dressy two piece suits - those two pieces being typically one decorated collar crewneck sweater and business casual dress sweatpants of the same color - topped off with a likewise matching headband and a crucifix necklace whose cross is usually, again, matching and always especially bling.  A little bit my grandmother, a little bit Cate Blanchett during the sadder parts of Ben Butt. It's a delicate relationship that only those who've taken dumb girls to see Harold and Maude can understand. Plus my topic is like a  theorized companion star at this point. Sanitorium dropped out. He yielded. So now I can talk about pretty much whatever I want to. For the most part, I'll just be up there looking the shit, but I do plan on still actually discussing some of the values Rick Santorum stood for. And lending, of course, my own equally ill-informed, equally out-of-touch and absurd opinions on each of them.

For instance, Abortion. Rick Santorum's heavy, oaken cross.  Does he really believe he's fighting for life? What's most interesting about Santorum, and, consequently, what's most disappointing/reassuring about his dropping out of the campaign race (before the PA vote, interestingly/tellingly) is that yeah, maybe he does. Maybe he really believes he's fighting for life. Not that he's robbing women of a very basic, but admittedly ugly and tragic need, but a fucking need nonetheless. I can remember my mom putting freshly born, not yet breathing kittens straight from the mama cat's vagina into a Ziploc bag. On those occasions we - me and my mom, with me holding the mass receptacle like a nurse, keeping only a very small, newborn-kitten-sized hole open above its steamy contents -  what we were doing was performing partial birth abortions. Where we're doing it, interestingly, is deep within the rolling, receding-tree hills of Burnside, Pennsylvania. A town quite like those often painted by Santorum as idyllic pastorals, quaint microcosms for how America could/should/ought to be. And what me and my mom were doing was keeping population down. Kittens aren't alive until their mama licks the snot off their eyes and noses. With or without scientific evidence, one can witness this truth simply by being present during the birth of kittens. Which almost always has a twist, let me tell you. There are several possibilities, and betting on the kittens being born adorable, little mewing furds (that is, fur turds) of glee and sugary mirth is not a bet I'd take, honestly. Like, besides the oft-presumed happy ending, there's the Lamian outcome, in which the mama cat will bite the heads of her fresh progeny clean off. As you might guess, this outcome is pretty cool. The kittens don't squeal or nothing, they just stay asleep. Also, sometimes the mama cat is totally indifferent to having just shat out three to seven baby cats. If you'll forgive my imagination for anthropomorphizing, she'll just lay there, panting, legs still aspread, all like: "Fuck you, you little rat bastards. You can suffocate in your own snot for all I care. Okay, sweetie, you came out last and your tiny, I will arouse you so that you may witness this nightmare and provide me with an endless source of comfort, worry, and pain." And Mom'll pick it up and say: "Ah! We got a survivor. We'll name you Mathias."  But all animals do this. Sometimes a child is not a blessing. It's simply a biological consequence. Then you start get into all these scary areas, like when exactly is it a life per se? According to my girlfriend, Arizona says its two week before a woman's last period. That's not only horrifying, it's black magic! That's like saying you can see into the future, which is way worse than murder, probably.

Another thing Rick Sanitorum stands for, - besides making and keeping them babies that make workers, soldiers and prisoners that pay taxes, defend our country, and fill our jails, not necessarily respectively, but all of which account for more money for those in power - but Rick believes in the right to bear arms. Here are the louder voices of the fugue that immediately strikes up in my head whenever I hear the mention of the 2nd amendment, here's what these assholes have to say: 1.) "Only the criminals'll have guns if you take the guns away from the police. You want them running the world instead of the police? Damnit, now, Law & Order is necessary to this democracy." "Goddamnit, what about the hunters? We gotta keep animal population down; you just said that yourself." And to these, I respond: "First of all, none of this matters, because I don't vote. So the following opinions should stir up no acid in you. In fact, you can just tune me out. I'll give you a thumbs up when I'm done. But let's just say we let the cops keep their weapons. For a little while. For like twenty to twenty-five years. That's what's definitely wrong with all of us, incidentally. We're too short-sighted. We don't worry about our futureselves enough. Hell. I'm no better. My point is, until things get smoothed out, why not make guns illegal for citizens to own and let the cops have less-harmful firearms until they don't need 'em at all. The "criminals" do have weapons, yes, but what are the criminals but citizens? Okay, there's the "Black Market" where illegal items of deadly interest are bought and sold and traded for drugs, we're told, but how often do you hear in the news about some real shoot up stuff that was a case of a bad guy with a ton of money and underground connections to the "Black Market" blowing people away action movie style? Now how often do you hear about citizens losing their minds and shooting people they work with, or go to school with, or shooting random standers-around at some public event? If these victims were armed, too, would that make it better? We've never even attempted to make guns illegal before. We fucking made beer and other spirits illegal for like fourteen years before we realized what a bad idea it was, but we can't even discuss taking guns out of citizens' hands? Oh, right. The hunting thing. Okay, how about this: Anyone who owns a hunting rifle may, first, take a test, proving they're competent and apt with a hunting rifle and then, after having proven one's sanity and one's ability to hunt responsibility, one will be - remember New Deal? - yeah, dude, one would be employed by the government, state or federal, to control the population of a given animal's existence in their local areas, and the tidings of such vocations, the venison and whatnot, would be given out appropriately. So the hunters and law enforcement officers and national defenders still get to keep their guns, and get full- or part-time jobs out of it owning and hopefully not having to operate these deadly weapons, and the criminals, who, most times, are nothing more than impoverished or enraged citizens are no longer allowed access, limited or otherwise, to lethal firearms." Thumbs up.

By now I've talked for about twenty-five minutes, or seventy-five standing Os, and I can pretty much just finish with a well-known classic, the surefire crowd pleaser: Telling people what Jesus would do if he were alive today (or Tupac, if it's a crowd of white liberals I'm talking to):

See, guys, what fuels people nowadays, besides 5 Hour Energy shots and Snickers bars, (both of whom I'd like to pause and thank for making this speech/post possible. Thanks guys! Charlie, Jackal Jimmy, you guys are the best, man! That weekend in Calcutta was off the fuggin' chain! "No Crash!" "You're Not Yourself When You're Hungry, Dude."), but what fuels today's humans, and possibly humans since we descended from the trees, and took up rocks and brained our siblings (or since we were molded from clay and baked in the Sun's kiln, if I'm talking to children, who must be lied to until their 14, then must have all the awful and harsh dismantling truths of the world dumped into their lap along with the carcass of their beloved pet dog or cat), but what fuels us these days, and since the dawn of people, is the desire to live on forever. Immortality. Each of us is born with a nearly indefatigable ego libido, an instinctual yearning that is really nothing more than a self-anthropomorphized (twice even!) theory of our biological proclivity to disseminate prodigally. Likewise we have an awesome fear of death, and, as far as we know, the knowledge of such inevitable end is what truly separates us from our dumb companions on this earth, the animals and the young of our species. We know, those of us who've lived long enough to achieve cognizance, know within ourselves that we will surely someday die. And this we, since the very first, have struggled and rebelled against. But Jesus/Tupac had a special gift: He knew with absolute faith that he would die one day, and that that day would come sooner than later, and there was nothing he could do about it. Except live with an unearthly radiance that inspires the masses. Have one crazy ass go at it, be nice to everyone, promise shit you couldn't make happen even if you were what people said you were cuz most of that shit is just straight nonsense anyway, and the whole time just totally not give a fuck about any of it, but still mean it, still be totally dedicated to it, because you and you alone truly understand how limited your dedication really is. Tell anyone they're gonna die at age 31, and watch and see how good they start living. The best thing that could happen for this country and this world right now is if astronomers find out that an Apollo asteroid is on a crash course with Earth, 65 million years ago style, mean and vengeful, hellbent on planetary obliteration and mass extinction of a cocky species that fancy themselves godly. See how good we'll all start living then. But some interesting questions immediately spring to mind: Would people become good, God-fearing citizens eager to repent for our previously wanton ways? Would we turn into slovenly, shameless hedonists and flood the world in sex juices, creosote and excrement? Or would we just kill each other before the asteroid even came to pass, and simply just that it did, pass us right by, leaving a beautiful, wholly unwitnessed nice meteor shower in its wake, like fireworks celebrating a fell monument, the astronomer's forgetting to carry a negative symbol or something. Alas, it's unbecoming to speak in general terms, or to presume to know the behavior of a global mass. But, it can be fun. I wonder if being President is anything like that.

Thanks for harking.

- David "Dutch" Pearce. aka Raze Hell. aka Backpack Dave. aka Ponytail Kev.

American. Neither nationalist, nor patriot. Simply autochthonously American.

Upon Death Do We Shart

Me and Marge, my old lady, have been going to shows like it's our job lately. And it actually is Marge's job. So support her work by reading her review of the two big tours that just came through the 'Burgh: the Decibel Magazine tour & Mastodon't. There're some other ones posted, too, which you can check out if you feel like wasting even more time reading some chick who only gets to write about metal because she's hot enough that guys just let her do whatever she wants.


Where Strides the Margaret.


Also, how good is this shit?!


22 April, 2012

Gettin' Nostalgic on Dat Azz

My boy Kawana Heathcliff over at posted about Orgone, totally unrelated to my shit, and got me all nostalgic. As a result, I discovered that MH posted a shitload of tracks on YouTube from The Apparati's unfinished full length. This shit's now six years old. Still rules. Also, if you're out there, Matt Hunter, I miss you! Start another band with me, man!


The above album version of "Pokerface" (written long before Lady GaGa's song of the same title) features Adam "T-Bird" Thomas of Heartless and Masakari fame on guest vocals.

From the last show The Apparati ever played. Christmas of 2007, I think. 
 
"Cannibulimia" featuring Stephen Jarrett of Orgone on guest vocals.






"Lockjaw," one of our many Blues jams.


Pretty sure this is from Christmas 2006.





Our keyboardist/synthish, Emma Maatman, did all of these t-shirt designs by the way. She still designs t-shirts. Check her stuff out @ Yellow Leather.

Damn, this is starting to really depress me a little, actually.

The first song we ever wrote as a band.



 
This song we did for a benefit comp. of all acoustic songs. I wrote the lyrics, and that's my only contribution. Kent plays cello. The ending piano part is so Danny Elfman.

21 April, 2012

Evidence of Nemesis.

School is where I've been. It's the last couple weeks and shit is crazy. Work is crazy, too, because other peoples' school and work is crazy, so they come get drunk in a church, and thus my shit is doubly crazy! I long for the days when I can sit with you, Dower, 'neath the Jesus Light, penning scathing reviews of promising demos and blasting flourishes in honor of the awful ones. They'll be back soon, though. In the meantime, it's Pre-Calc pop quizzes and tests, Astronomy tests and fifty minute payments of zerious achtung,writing "sophisticated" English papers, and reading short stories by Russians and dirty poems by long dead cougars in Gen Lit, all interwomen - ha! i'm leaving that slypo! - all interwoven with new Games and Mad Men episodes, and a eyes-bigger-than-ears heaping of great pirated tunes. Knew Torche had a new one? Yeah. And it rules. Still haven't heard the new High On Fire. Gotta actually buy that. Still jamming Pallbearer, the other last record I actually bought.

Saturn's Enceladus through Cassini's eye.


Seeing Cough and SUPERCHRIST on Sunday. The Body next Tuesday. Midnight next Thursday. Nokturnal Hellstorm next Saturday. I'll be at all of 'em, too. Bet your pussies on that, you pussies.

Taking the following classes in the Fall: History of the Old Testament, Women Novelists, Probability & Statistics (last MA+H class ever! also w/ Dr. Okosha), and Myths, Rituals and Symbols. Last semester at CCAC, and it's gonna be a good one methinks. First, I gotta get through this one.

For now . . .

19 April, 2012

Bikes is like guitars . . .

. . . no matter what language you speak, no matter what cultural hang-ups is borne in your blood, you can cross boundaries by speaking with your bike. The following video is a perfect example of how a BMX edit can be artful and cinematic as well as a display of abilities. Fuck yeah! This dude's got mad steeze and the editor boasts some true skill, too.

18 April, 2012

Whip its.



Yeah!



YEAH!!



Chad Kerley is 16, by the way.



Good night.

15 April, 2012

Holy. Shit.

Taking a break from studying to post this. FBM is still the coolest bike company around. And, yes, I am partial to long hairs riding to metal.

02 April, 2012

For Sam.

Been meaning to post this up for you for a while now, my man. This here's Wildernessking from South Africa somewhere. I remember you telling me you were real into the new Wolves In The Throne Room record, and these guys play on a similar theme, but with way more bombast in terms of musicality. see the "Welcome to the Jungle"-like opening riffage of "River (Nectar of Earth)":





"The Writing of Gods In the Sand" is their debut record. It's really good for a debut and it totally has that haughtiness of a young band that know they're slaying on their first record, which, as you know, The Dower's all about. Check it out, Sam, man. Jam it on way your to and from work, when ye are lost in the reveries of deep, mist-veiled vales; cracking down animals as if yours were the very red right hand of Jove Himself!


Wildnessking's "The Writing of Gods in the Sand"

Mothership, do you read me?

What's most crazy about this video is that the entire first half is just warming up for the latter half. So when the sun goes down and the Black Angels song comes on, look out. Bangers galore!

This Is United: Nathan Williams Full Video Part HD from Channel 4Down on Vimeo.