Thursday, June 26, 2014

Hate Hungry, Parasitic Lineage, Switching Hands

I love Gene Wilder
I am very hungry right now so I am not sure how much I am going to write. I am distracted by the gurgling sounds of the cavernous pit that is my digestive tract. So far today I have eaten tortilla chip crumbs and coffee. I love eating food, but sometimes I wish there was some sort of magical pill that I could take that would just make me feel full and be done with it. Some sort of pill that you could take when you're on a that chewing gum from Willy Wonka and Chocolate Factory. Three course meal in the form of gum would be fucking awesome. Except all that fucking pot roast bullshit, that shit ain't plant based and Conky don't play that shit. I would want my chewing gum to be an appetizer of grilled asparagus, a main course of banh mi's and for dessert a bucket of Code Red. Fuck I am hungry. I wanted to work out today but I have no fuel in me. Probably just jerk off stale-fish like I always do and hope that makes me buff someday.

The average American child.
Otherwise, what else is pissing me off lately. Do you ever find yourself doing your daily trivial bullshit and then out of nowhere you are crushed by the absolute menial realities of life? I think we all have those moments, but fuck lately it has been hitting me more and more. Ever since I got back from that last tour it has just been really hard to get my shit back together and be nice to yuppies everyday. And little idiot kids, Kerry King damn kids these days are fucking stupid. For some reason on the weekends it seems like a lot more kids come into my work. Gnawing at the counter like parasitic beasts who feed off the suffering of others. But I can't blame them when I see who their mentors are. Where do people get their values from these days? The only ethos I gather from these insensate vermin is to "Shit on everything and whoever has the most toys wins."  And they never tip. If anyone reading this doesn't tip; fuck you. May the thundering woes of eternity consume you in your silken slumber. It confounds the senses when I see a fuckhead in 300 dollar leather shoes unable to grasp the concept of gratuity. In theory, I really like the entire idea of gratuity. Simply because it is something that everyone participating in can express their appreciation to others. Because it is not forced upon us, it makes the act of doing it far more philanthropic. But guess what, no one is interested in that. Which believe me, I hate everyone and most everything and I am morally bereft. But I posses the brain function that is capable of rewarding service with a gesture of a few extra bucks. I am going to start forcing the hand of some of these gold plated paleolithic monstrosities and hope to Kerry King they catch me in the act. I hope they take a swing at me and with their underdeveloped frontal lobe they will of course miss and I will be within societal statutes to unleash my impoverished rage upon them with molten fury and cunning strength. What a glorious day it will be. Long story short, put a dollar on the gratuity line you fucking shit-cannons.

"You have to let them know that you think they are shit."

My daily reaction to the sinew
that is humanity.
On the subject of gratuity and giving more, I read an article recently that spills this subject into the realm of music. The article was on the subject of fan entitlement, I won't bore you with the details and if you haven't already read it you can read it HERE. As with anything, I agreed with a lot of it and disagreed with most of it. But I was always taught to be a devil's advocate, and being a misanthrope I almost always hate most things most people have to say. But it did make me think about my relationship with fans at shows and my role as a sort of musical merchant. I can only tell you from my experience what this has been like, and only recently have I been in the "business" of selling merchandise to people. On the most recent tour I went on, I sold jack shit for the most part. And when I did, it was a HUGE help in putting gas in the tank to get to the next city where no one would buy shit. So I can say that it has a big impact when 2 or 3 people at a show buy even just a tape especially knowing that I probably won't be so lucky in the next town. So with that being said I am forever grateful for you people out there who find it necessary to help me out just because I am some shit-bag far from home and you maybe didn't think my band totally honked. And as a musician that is just the check you write when you want to be a part of this chapter of life. But the flip side to that coin is, no one owes anyone anything. As a musician, I go to every show expecting that everyone will hate my band and talk shit about us during and after the show and literally throw feces into my mouth as I sing and will physically attack my drummer and hold me down as they beat him up and I cry and scream for them to stop but they keep shoving feces down my throat until I choke and suffocate on the excretion of their hatred. That is where I set my bar for every show. Anything above that is just vegan gravy. So though I do really appreciate when someone buys my shit and it is flattering to know they maybe liked our set, I am just grateful they didn't piss on my T-shirts and walk away. This is a subject that I could go on and on about and I really don't feel like doing that right now. I may touch on this more in the future but the long and short of it is everyone thinks their band is fucking cool and everyone is an asshole for not buying your shit: they're not and your band is shit. And everyone thinks that people who go to shows are over privileged ungrateful shit-bags: they probably are just like most people. But hey, at least they stomached your "art" for 20 minutes. I hope to fuck you only played a 20 minute set. What's with all these shitty bands thinking they're Metallica? I see these bar rat bands all the fucking time that play for 45 minutes to an hour. I can't even get started on that shit right now. Fucking artists. What a joke. Sorry guys I am grumpy I haven't eaten. I'm just some fucker from Conklin. God hates us all.

P.S. When I saw Bolt Thrower they were charging 10 bucks per shirt and could have easily obtained triple or quadruple that amount. True road warriors. Meanwhile, most bands charge 60 dollars for a poster made of rice paper and dried seminal fluid. Highway robbery.

"No guts, no glory."

No comments:

Post a Comment