|Workin for the man
workin for the class
he’s a hardy hard habit to break
I’ll meet you at eight
by the lake
and when you pull up don’t forget to brake
(not like the last screwup who forgot to apply his brakes)
Bald-win! paedophile at the rock’n’roll high school
hangin round the gym just to get an eyeful
panties sometimes stockings sometimes petite brassieres
the i think he’s got what he’s looking for clear
he’s the bald one, the only baldwin worth his salt
and i love him with every figure of my soul
but i’m only a man can’t you understand it takes a minimum of two to tango
|I break for cake for gods sake
my mans in the outfield buying yellowcake
but its cream, tangerine, lemon ivy
harangued by caramel thats a sticky mix i see
|I tweeted the bird sanctuary
they told me you had flown the coop
no biggie for tupac and biggie smalls
they’ll be the biggest rappers of them all
|…the… twittersphere… full of nudgerigars
oh what a collossal waste
Life is pretty cheap but for the frozen cheap wasters!
gorillaform contenders, suedehead boots downout racists
steer, queers, souvenirs, novelties, party tricks
wait, you dropped your phony dog poo back there in the sticks!
|because 1984 is over
the earth will have a grand opening party
and while all crumbles and the earth spits and swallows
a little girl waits.
TOO LOOSE TO TREK
Don’t let your genie loose in midstream
its horses for courses if you know what i mean
600 lb gorilla in a barr-brady suit
slick hair matted up like superglue
The critical mass runneth over
like a jehovas witness on gwynneth paltrow
looks like jealous bitchiness has the reins again
because when the rains come it looks like stormy weather again
Too loose to hang on to the reins!
when the rains come you will have mush for brains
if you keep your mind open
there’ll be bad brains rising from these tired remains!
Always counting chickens before they’re hatched
always have to steal my kisses down in the hatch
but your 6 ton ape is wearing falsies and a wig
and thats not real hair in his ear, its an earwig
|Workin class man, no rod, bow or rifle
liable for libel, won’t give you an eyeful
of baubles, bangles and bronzed love beads
Can you tell me how to get to Simian Street?
|Come with me and Peggy Lee on a slow boat to Harlem,
We’ll take the most rank cab that you got
handsome is as handsome does
this charming man has a hand in his glove
What he’s doing i couldn’t say
but he sure scared those pigeons away.
ooh yeah, but he sure scared those pigeons away.
hey hey, he scared those pigeons away.
HEARTBREAK HOTEL – TRUTH OR LEGEND?
Courtney Cox and Myley Cyrus tell of all night circus romp!
Post by Mecca Be Vets
Living and working in a smaller space gives one the chance to evaluate many innovative and space saving tools, given the limited kitchen area and restricted prep-room, some economy and conservation of preparation area in the areas of both menu (Roast Turkey, Glazed Ham and Side of Lamb are not ideal in the 9″ x 6″ Test Kitchen space, epecially as the main oven is a toast ‘n’ grill, perfectly adequate for one, with slow cooker and compact microwave as adjuncts).
As an avid small-kitchen chef,I revel in anything which allows for using a limited food preparation area – japanese and other high density population areas invite and incoct such dishes and ingenious food processing tool inventors are only too happy to come to the party with clever, practical, and economical inventions such as the SUSHI KING TM which, with its offbeat ‘squaring the circle’ build-a-traditional-japanese-food-preparation-device-using-new-zealand-native-timber approach, would seem on the surface to be an oddity, a curiosity piece, the archetypal square peg in a rond hole, but somehow (oddly or not) it makes perfect sense and performs its intended function out of the box, as advertised, to the nth degree.
I’m Steve McCabe, and I like a tasty fish. With my life-threatening heart condition, and as an international rockstar with a substantial fanbase to whom I am still at times a fickle golden calflike idol, when i get a hankering for some pescine produce I look for an oily fish.
Sometimes I can’t get, can’t afford, or don’t feel like the brazen archetype heart-healthy, Omega-3-ridden, bulging with healthiness, stamina and proud fish-oil air of authority and entitlement, healthy as a nutsack on heat hovering over a supersized bowl of garden Caesar Salad, breathing in the sweet nectar of toasting sesame seeds while trying to decide between the smoked or non-smoked salmon fillet, on the rye or on the pumpernickel….
|Trevally Fillets||The flesh is darker in colour when raw but once cooked the flesh turns brilliant white. It has a full flavour with a medium to firm texture. A high-oil fish suitable for a wide range of preparations.|
…Thats when I reach for Trevally & Sangria Snacks, Bar Snacks, Gel Rockets and Fantasy Fizz – there’s something for everyone!
From the far-off hills to the kids and their cheap thrills, a party’s not a party till you’re full of beans!
Additional photos by Axemen
I wasn’t as much worried about their settling into to a quintessential suburban ritual, as I was anxious how my parents might react to having America’s collector scum wet-dream tour (add one drummer from TNV to the mix) make a two-day stop in Troy.
I shouldn’t have had any reservations. Patti and Jeff should get a medal for their hosting abilities. I never knew how liberal my parents actually are (now only if they’d align that mentality with their politics) until I saw them nurturing a gluten free meal for ol’ Dragan. But I digress.
If you’re looking for tragic tales of drunken tirades and streaking through the town square or foul-mouthed kiwis looting the curio cabinet and tagging the doilies with pen knives – you aren’t going to find it here. Axemen are gentlemen. And though they may not be used to our ultra-consumer, warm and fuzzy, football coma shenanigans, they fit right in as adopted Elliotts.
If so anti-climatic, then why the post? Well, it was the well of anomaly that occurred at Troy, Ohio’s pre-eminent 18-35 yr. old hangout, The Brewery, the night before, which prompted this rant. Beyond simply wanting to tie one on in downtown Troy, beyond meeting up with an absent Justin Smith, beyond even the slightest want of nostalgic conversation with past peers whom I have nothing to converse, was a triple bill of Miami County’s finest “music.” Even then, the event of the week at the bar “everyone” goes to was pretty much split between dated booty music (first floor) and townie hard-lucks (second floor) and hardly a soul in the room with the stage, and the real instruments, and the performers. Still, it was a oddly intriguing trio of bands, going from karaoke rural gangsta’ rap to two-man Ween influenced mayhem, to standard issue thrash-emo-speed metal sludge.
Low Budget was first, featuring some kid who used to play basketball with my bro at the Lincoln Center back in the early ‘90s, replete with two hype men. They wore t-shirts emblazoned with Low Budget (were those made at the Troy Sports Center?) and hats reading the same. I thought the name was clever and their rhymes mighty inventive for what seemed like freestyle over the Ipod. In fact it reminded me most of another swang “low” duo from Cali, Low Profile, who went on to become W.C. and the Maad Circlen (a personal favorite). It did get tiresome, overwrought, and something I was happy stopped before it was too late. While I encourage all hip-hop troupes trying to make it in small town America (Teenage Soldiers R.I.P.), I would have liked to have seen them add some regional flavor to their oeuvre. I don’t know exactly what that would entail. In Columbus it’s a working-man, blue-collar, everyone’s invited atmosphere – so would this be sub-Columbus, or even sub-Springfield? I bet the gangsters thrive in Piqua. Explore there. Where’s Shane Darner when you need him?
Next up was the biggest surprise of the night. Electric Banana hail from Dayton, but seem to play most of their gigs at various submarine houses around Troy. Like the Weens, Chromeos, and Party Dreams that have come before them – most of what they do is borne of goofing and can only elicit good times, no heavy-handed criticism here. I’m sure if I were privy to the inane lyrics (I’m sure I heard “pussy” mentioned more than thrice) I wouldn’t have been as thrilled, and if they weren’t serving up PBR tallboys (just like home) I probably wouldn’t be expounding about their simple genius – but both factors were in place and the antics of Jimmy Spade, the mohawk-clad frontman of the two, made for a stellar evening. It was rudimentary funk worship and novel hip-hop in a stoner metal package, but they played it to perfection, knew how to work the “crowd” and had catchy melodies to off-set any whiff of scatology. I want them to come to Columbus, soon.
The last band of the evening could be wrapped up in one song. Through an Ocean of Plagues do what they do well, do it tight, and do it frenetic…..but I wasn’t in any kind of mood after the insanity of Electric Banana. I mean, c’mon, how you can take a band like this seriously? From their one sheet:
The phrase “Through an Ocean of Plagues” metaphorically describes the route humanity takes on its journey to self-destruction. Civilization evolves by consuming and destroying, usurping its power through the contamination and eventual erasure of its competitors. Rather than coexisting, Nature is enslaved, dissolved, and forgotten. Such is the legacy of future generations, once humankind has siphoned the last of the Earth’s resources. Without a target for destruction, we turn our sights to our own demise.
This rural Ohio quintet addresses these issues, translating the impending onslaught of disease, war, and social deconstruction into a medium by which they may express their opinions. The music is brutal, though it still retains a melodious quality meant to remind the listener that social harmony is lost but not forgotten. The live performance of the music parallels its subject matter, brutally portraying the bands frustration and outrage.
I did overhear the lead singer at 3 AM telling his friend he was headed home to “get fucked and fucked,” which I can only assume means he was continuing his quest for drugs and sex. So that was entertaining. But with all of this music, the highlight of the evening? — HUGH KELLY, smartest man on earth.
But this was all about Axemen, right? Goodness. They played the Friday after the gorging in Columbus.
I’m a bit out of words to go on and describe them, but it’s likely they showed a few “shitgaze” (sic) signifiers throughout their entire set of crust blues and the purest of kiwi protest/prank garage rock – but it all had the guise of a professional band playing like it was the last show of the tour.
This is how you do it. Release the Three Virgins already. I don’t have it yet. Three [3??? – LSM] of the most delightful men I’ve ever had the chance to meet.
Here’s hoping it gets this hopping over Christmas.