Unique views on music, politics, life.

Brandensbaked...The Id of a dude in upper left 'Merica. Trump hater! The creative force behind "American Supercell", a BIG DEAL in the Clover Valley music scene, played guitar in "Bonedawgs", "Banner Jump", and "Musclefuzz". Is proficient in all the manly arts, such as creating art, constructing useful things, mechanics, combat gardening, and respecting women. Possibly an immortal...Time will tell.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Comings und Goings

Last evening, my friend Karen stopped by. V was already down for the count, and I was in my tree. Word about my new-found wealth had already made it's way around the Bethel corridor and Marc sent K to sniff out my level of can-we-possibly-work-him-for-anything. K found this to be a 'YES', and with the correct lubrication, the door to my supply room was unstuck. Terms were struck, hands were shook, bullshit was heard, then Meds were took. The road to broke is paved with un-re payed favors. Some people will say anything to get what they think they need, while others feel the sting of pride every time their mouth starts building an enclosure they know is escape-proof. As a wise man once rapped: "I like to leave 'em wonderin'. What in the fuck? Who? Where or when? The Monstermagnet pulled me in. Soon I became myself times ten."  "So in conclusion, let me say, time is our natural enemy. Killing the night with each new day. Soon we've become the thing we hate."  Today, that unrelenting bastard Time, has all sights set on one Father Mike of Skychurch. Now, Father Mike is one of those special pricks, who does all that is in their power to squeeze your friendship dry, never giving anything back, just taking, taking, taking. Out of the blue, Mike decides he is far too important to be bothered with your little life. He goes from being not much of a friend, to not much of anything. At first, your feelings are a bit hurt. You have been there for him since 1984! Oh! The pissing and moaning. Drunken poor-me stories that devoured the night. Time I will never get back...Then you look at your watch, and realize four years have passed since he's bothered to call you. You wonder why you ever called back after the first ignored message. Your mind states-"That which begins, must also end".  So here's to you, Mick Shooler, shack-kid. Rumplestiltskin. Pussy. On your special day, here's hoping you get everything I think you deserve...Perhaps testicular cancer or a lazy eye. Someday you will finally understand that money can't make you into that elusive thing you'll always wish you were...

Brandensbaked  
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Oh, Hey! Dude! Long time man...

Where the hell have you been? The last time I saw you, you were waiting to see if the new meds the doc gave you were gonna heal that nasty fungal-thingy. Well, did it? Oh man that's too bad. Hopefully you can at least manage the, uh, symptoms. Still burn when you piss? Wow, I'm sorry to hear that. Anyway, I gotta fly...People waiting. But if you're ever out and about, stop by and I'll give you a free Foosball lesson.