BANG! FUCK! I'M DEAD!

Pretend you're in your bedroom. Or Arties. And now pretend you're hearing James Hetfield bark out "I've got something to say!... " And now pretend that I indeed DO have something to say. And now imagine that the rest of this post isn't as awful as I anticipate it will be. Like St. Anger. Only without the insightful lyric.

It occurs to me that the older one gets, the more boring ones life. It's as if things finally come to a grinding semi-halt as we settle into a holding pattern of mind numbing boredom and merely trudge through the endless days until we are allowed to dull our affronted senses with the only socially sanctioned drug abuse on Earth. Booze it up while you clean the kitchen or do a load of laundry. Wake up feeling like you'd rather not, rinse, repeat. Adulthood. When did I become so wrung out?

At least, unlike so many of you, I have sufficient distractions in my life to convince myself that I still enjoy this dreadful existence. I get to use the horrible ennui as inspiration. And since I have no captive audience to satisfy, I can be as frustratingly obscure as I feel like. Which brings me to a lovely new ditty we're working on. You'll love it. It has it all! But you'll have to wait...

And speaking of things you missed out on, SUBVERS performed a secret surprise show on Saturday at a house party. Yes, thanks to the second half of the year's bookings disappearing in a puff of smoke, we decided to go completely old school! Oh what fun we had! Some of the guests even bobbed their heads and got into it. Whilst certainly not a stand out show in terms of grandeur or prestige, it was a highlight in terms of fun. And since it isn't likely to be repeated it was decided to include that ultimate of house party songs as the final number. Yup! You guessed it! SCOTTY DOESN'T KNOW! The goth metal version! One day we may be bribed with enough money/alcohol/projectile panties to release the video.

Anyway, I just thought I'd pop in and say hi. I'm sure you've missed me as I have missed dishing up the drivel. Problem is, I have no effing motivation and sweet fuck all on which to opine. It really is quite grown up of me.

Spread The Love. So What So What You Boring Little ****!

LOVE LOVE ME DOH!

There's a remarkable difference between "getting ahead" in life and "being obsessed with getting blowjobs" throughout your existence...

Apologies for neglecting you, my avid, rabid readership. I have been partaking in the former, although remain steadfastly committed to the latter. You see, work has been hectic. One of these days I may even start wearing kerkskoene. No! What blasphemy is that...

Anyway, as befits my advanced years, the powers that be have finally seen fit to grant me some responsibility and such, which means I now have to work my poor little fingers to the bone (I don't know how you mortals have put up with this day-in-day-out for so long) in grand anticipation of my big bump up the corporate ladder. It would be soul destroying if it didn't come with the added benefit of a much larger booze budget. Still, no excuse for being so absent.
Truth be told, I haven't had anything exciting to talk about. And ranting about the sorry state of our world or the despicable behaviour of our leaders is becoming a well worn path towards a sore arm next to a rotting horse corpse in the sun.

I could tell you that I had a lot of fun band rehearsals, but then you already knew that.
I could tell you about all the wonderful culinary delights and alcohol fueled antic, but that, like my cowboy head wear that once served time in a stripper's on-stage performance, is becoming "old hat".
I'm pleased to announce that my focused attempt at fitness is going well, but I'd be a bit of a hypocrite if I didn't admit to doing it for the sole purpose of allowing myself leeway to drink as much as I want to.

So I have been gone with the wind and no one seems to give a... oh no! I'm not falling for that one again! It's just such a pity I can't tell you about the incredibly awesome thing that's coming up. Not unlike The Kraken, only with less suckers attached. Although...

What am I on about, you ask. Oh nothing. Like tonight I think I'll rush home through the mire of unending traffic so I can spend all my time throwing money into the bottomless pit of my self indulgent "creative outlet". One day I may even find some appreciation. Who am I kidding. My arse looks nothing like the SS Kardashian so I don't stand a chance. Perhaps one day, with art being as fleetingly cyclic as it is, someone somewhere will click on the "pay $1" button and my life's ambition and selfless sacrifice will have meant something. Were my parents right after all? Nope. Fuck all o' ye's! My assault on your conscience and eardrums will continue unabated. Well, now that I have to return to the drawing board after Mercury's closure you may have to wait a while, but interesting plans are afoot, fear not. I mean, it's not as if I started a life of musical crime just to get the odd blowjob...

And on that rather offensively obscure note, just like that, he disappeared...

NDGD: (And boy, how I have missed his insightful wisdom) Get rich or die trying. Or run up massive debts and declare bankruptcy. More proof that rap is the Greece of music.

I missed you!

Spread The Love. Bring Me Wine.