SONGSTORY: "Mother of Pearl" by Roxy Music

Hello and welcome to the very first ever BLOG ALLIANCE GUILD  (BAG)  crossover event, SONGSTORY... BAG is a group of bloggers and readers of blogs  that have pledged their commitment to supporting each others endeavors.  SONGSTORY is an event documenting the power of the moment and its soundtrack.  Has a song ever just defined a moment for you? Well, SONGSTORY is the telling of  that moment. A single topic spread over multiple sources. As-like crossover events from comic books, SONGSTORY is just one of the many. Don't just read and  enjoy this installment of SONGSTORY, but follow the link at the bottom for the next episode of the series.


You just gotta read'em all!

* * *

I have trouble pinpointing that exact moment just outside JUNKERS TAVERN... It was a cold winters night of the type that made your breath look like a big smoke cloud when you exhaled. The occurrence took place in their small gravel/pebble type parking lot adjacent to the building... But all of that is not really important to this particular SongStory. What is important is that what did happened in just a handful of minutes outside JUNKERS in that lot did, in fact, happen... and it was important enough and special enough to stick with me and survive to this point, to this vector of the dirty, shallow, gravel lined puddle that calls itself life.


JUNKERS TAVERN, home of the nicotine stained chandelier... It may not be my official 'home-bar' (which is currently THE COMET and my number one choice of the bar that embodies the spirit of my being) bit it is a special place. If you choose to believe in such things as 'home-bars' then JUNKERS would be my 'secret home-bar' (don't tell anyone). My home-bar away from home-bar. My last resort. My back-up. When the war hits, I will stand strong and united with mein comrades at The Comet, but if that should fail, the survivors will have a fall-back location and make a last stand at JUNKERS. THE COMET will be where victory will be launched from. JUNKERS will be where we die.


I heard a saying in the circuits and run-a-rounds of life concerning dogs and how they don't shit in their own yards. Interesting enough... I consider JUNKERS one of my yards. Is JUNKERS dangerous? Sure it is, but that's not because there's been stories in all the press about shootings (yes, as in more than one) there. In one of those stories, JUNKERS patrons carrying concealed weapons thwarted an attempted robbery of the establishment. That doesn't spell out DANGER to me. I find comfort in this knowledge and know-how that those around me can seize control of a situation that usually turns out bad for a guy wanting to drink a beer and have a shot of whiskey. I have performed as a member of THE SOCIALS there several times, I even recited poetry there before and have even been there as a spectator. There may be an elevated sense if danger there from time to time in many different forms, but I don't feel at danger being there. Is JUNKERS dirty? No more dirty than any other place in mein eyes. Pshaw! Dirt is relative bitches! Yeah, that chandelier didn't get stained just because... There may be a smoking ban in public places in Ohio but JUNKERS has not readily acknowledged that rule. JUNKERS has, and continues to live, by their own rules...


As I commonly do when I'm locked into a groove of rage-building (working to make a buzz a full-on drunk) I will step out for a breath of fresh air, a lil' emprise jaunt 'emp-jaunt' . Like I said, JUNKERS does not acknowledge The State of Ohio's Public Smoking ban so the place can get pretty... thick (yeah, that's a good word to describe it). Its an olde tyme type thickness too. Since the smoking ban has taken hold, it really has made evenings at The Comet, Northside 
Tavern or wherever else more livable. Its created pockets of outside adventure most places with smoke corrals (as the type at The Comet) being ripe with bonus zones of the usual bar-fare somewhere else that feels a good distance away from the bar and its certain flare. But at JUNKERS the emp-jaunt is alive and well in all its olde glory.


Scene particulars already dammed, It was during this wintery nights emp-jaunt that my attention turned to JUNKERS parking lot and the sounds coming from a rather impressive older model station wagon in its lot.

I have always had a soft spot in my heart for older station wagons like the one in question. I blame my grandpa cause he had a green/wood panel Capri station wagon that he treated like a Cadillac that he would end up getting after a thief stole his 'wagon (as he called it) and later abandoned it in one of the Carolina's... I would pilot my own 'wagon for a short period in the late 90's. It was a Red Cavalier 'Wagon and bridged the gap between my first blue Cavalier, and my second White Cavalier (named 'GoBo'). Please let the record show that I'm currently piloting my third (and final?) Cavalier, a 2002 model, this time black in color (named 'Vader')... But when I see a 'wagon, I usually take a brief moment for some reflection... So concerning this 'wagon in JUNKERS lot, with the strange sounds... The shimmying side to side movement of the 'wagon and the fogged up windows.. Well, this 'wagon had my full-attention anyway, despite being a sentimental eye catcher to begin with.


Its not what you think even though I have built you up to think that my emp-jaunt has led me to discover a 'wagon full of flesh-action going on... It was action of a different sort. The shimmying motion of the car was undoubtedly due from the car-full of occupants (which was also a contributing factor of the foggy windows-I also assume they were burning wires or contracting pink-eye(smoking pot)l which I can also appreciate. The sound was nothing more 
than a car stereo blasting "Mother of Pearl" with the cars occupants singing along and dancing too.



They really did like the song too. They weren't faking. They weren't blasting the song and tying to sing along because they seen SLC PUNK and jumped onto the cool song glory train. The song, with its tongue twisting lyrics, was being sang along with perfectly with precision and confidence! I have learned few songs that I would count as some of the best ever written, and even easier to sing  along with than "Mother of Pearl", and then just unleash them with or without accompaniment. I was drawn by the familiarity of the song from a distance. Then, I had paused to admire the beauty of the 'wagon and then when I had figured out exactly what was going on with the wagon and full car chorus of ROXY MUSICS "Mother of Pearl", well to day the least, I was in awe shock.


I stood there trying not to be noticed at the corner of JUNKERS where I watched the 'wagon and its occupants sing along to the words of a rather awesome song. I tried to slow down my breathing and brought my jacket collar up to my mouth so as to attempt to conceal my location... I would have loved to go over to the car and join in with the song.. But I would only have interrupted something... So I watched. I spectated. I beheld.

The audience is important. I think that it is important to be a fan also...On this evening I chose to be the audience concerning this incident. I watched, I appreciated and more importantly, I learned! But since that time, I never did figure out who was in that car. I began watching when the song was in its earliest stages, the beginning fast part with the 'whoo-ooos' and hung with the whole thing till the near end, but not the very end. Just as the ending lines were being sung, I exited. I figured on the cars inhabitants evacuating the vehicle upon the songs end and I didn't want to be caught being the creepy dude watching people smoke a joint and have a sing-a-long in their car... For that matter I didn't want to know who was in the car either. I wanted that moment, from the start, to be the beautiful mystery it ended up being to me. So my emp-jaunt was successful. I got some fresh air, was surprisingly inspired and returned to the thickness that was JUNKERS TAVERN to continue working on my rage. 


And to this day, whenever I hear "Mother of Pearl" I think of that night, that car... Whoever was inside that car singing the song, they are beautiful in more ways than one. No matter who they are or what they are or what they have done, or what they will ever do. 


Get the picture? 


Oh Mother of Pearl I wouldn't change you for the whole world

OK... So go here for another installment of SONGSTORY at Faster and Louder


Then the other blogs participating in SONGSTORY for their contribtions
Blog Monster The Rung Rock-N-Roll Hoochie Koo College. Jits. Life Unseen Science
Dialed In Like A Short-Wave Radio


Visit the Blog Alliance Guild. Do a blog. Read a blog. Join up (or else)

Friday, March 16th, 2012

This friday, March 16th there is an event coming up featuring a few of the blogs that make up the Blog Alliance Guild (BAG) for something titled SONGSTORY. SONGSTORY is the first BAG comic-book style crossover event where various blogs all write on a singular topic about a song and its special moment, its soundtrack... One post is just the beginning... At the end of each installment, you will be ushered to the next installment,


So keep the date in mind...Friday, March 16th, 2012. Articles will be posted as direct links by individual bloggers on the BAG fb Wall as the individual bloggers make them available... If you are reading this and are interested in joining BAG, then by all means check into it. This is the FIRST crossover event, and definitely not the last. just the beginning.

The Weekend of Sandwiches (Food Views)

Quiznos Subs

03/03/12 (Afternoon)

9336 Union Center Blvd.

West Chester, OH. 45069

Penn Station

03/03/12 (Afternoon)

5401 Dixie Highway

Fairfield, OH. 45014

Jimmy Johns

 03/04/12 (Afternoon)

@ Brigewater Falls Location

3385 Princeton Rd.

Hamilton, OH. 45011

All cravings MUST be fulfilled at all cost. This is a fundamental belief of mine. Healthy or not, I’m not particularly interested in perpetuation of a 'healthy lifestyle' but if ramen noodles sprinkled with the seasoning pack as well as parmesan cheese, sounds good... Then let it be so!

So when Saturday afternoon reared its head and we needed something quick before SOCIALS practice, Julie suggested QUIZNOS. She wanted a sandwich (sub) and in particular a new lobster something or other that she had seen advertised. Coupled with Olives recent discovery of her love of Turkey ("I like turkey Dad, I REALLY like turkey!!!") and nearly ancient memories of my own of a toasty meatball sub seemed like Quiznos was a good choice.

It had been a while since we partook of Quiznos so I found a close location using their website. Hmm... I seem to remember more locations than listed... So we drive the ever-winding Union Center Boulevard and navigate the 'Streets of West Chester' (Some internet maps call the area 'Olde West Chester' pshaw!) and find what we were looking for...

What’s this? A feebly handwritten sign on the door? The sign looks like it was hastily written with no rough draft explaining how they were currently out of a number of ingredients for their menu items including the lobster.

No lobster for the initial sandwich Julie wanted... STRIKE ONE! Abort?  Julie insisted she would get something else...Onward! No sooner had we opened the door and walked inside than a god-awful smell of a burning sub permeated through the whole location. I stopped just feet inside the door and instantly the sign and absence of multiple products becomes STRIKE TWO with the burning whatever being, not only seen and interpreted as incompetence, but STRIKE THREE!

Mission aborted. Quiznos [xxx] See ya round.

Just for good measure on the way to a back-up choice of PENN STATION, we cruised by another of the many suburban strip malls where a Quiznos did exist, that no longer supported a location. Like I said, I seem to remember more locations and I suppose there were more at one time. With diminished locations now, and the closest location to us getting three strikes, lets just say its gonna be sometime before Quiznos is revisited and that’s a shame cause Julie never would get that Lobster sandwich despite the almost traversing of a cross county trek to a doppelganger suburban sprawl that feels better about themselves because its not a 'city grid'.

Bullshit! I love cities. Big city’s.

BIG CITY'S 4-WAY

Hmm. The previous Thursday (03/01/12) I made a pot of Cincinnati Chili that was so damn good that I thought if I ever had a restaurant of my own I'd call it VICTORY CHILI HOUSE but now maybe a good name, which could also reverberate my love of City’s, could be BIG CITYS which would not only feature all sorts of chili-fare, but also soup-beans, fried potato’s and cornbread! Country-fare!!! A greasy-spoon (Cincy style) chain restaurant. All hail BIG CITYS... Imaginary restaurants are always the best cause they offer whatever you want and are always successful.

So onward to PENN STATION... This location in particular is actually the 'neighborhood' location 'down under the hill up a bit' (70% of everything we do starts with 'down under the hill'). To be honest, PENN STATION was point on! Good service, always friendly staff... This location looks differently than the last time I was here, which was sometime ago despite being close to the house... Olive got a kids size Turkey Sub, Julie got an 8" Pizza and I got an 8" Chicken Parmesan. We all got small fries with water for the girls and a soda (iceless Mountain Dew +1 refill) for me. We all traded portions of our subs with each other with my sub being the tastiest.

Chicken Parmesean w' Small Fries

The only fuss about PENN STATION, which is one shared by many people when you say their name, is the price. Our family (of 3) cost us a bit under $24 which is the main reason why PENN STATION will remain a treat rather than a staple. It seems that no matter where we go, whatever we get, everything is the same price. There’s no true 'deals' when you dine out anymore. Even something from a dollar menu isn’t really a deal... its just a dollars worth of whatever you wanted...

PENN STATION is awarded 3/5

You never want to go to the grocery store hungry right? Well before we hit Kroger’s the next day for our routine weekly shopping adventure we had a double-check on the internet for Quiznos locations which provided no new data. I remembered a suggestion from a facebook group that I’m part of, the illustrious BAG (Blog Alliance Guild), and one of its members, Sam Vance and his suggestion to check out a JIMMY JOHNS location at Bridgewater Falls (down-under-the-hill up-the-road-a-bit). So we trekked north on the increasingly dangerous super-intersection laden wild-ride of a road known as By-pass 4. You know, they spent millions of dollars on this 'groundbreaking road' that everyone bitches about and couldn’t give it a name honoring some sorts of calamity, hero, or victim. Such a disgrace... A worker was even killed during the roads re-development!!!

JIMMY JOHNS was everything that most places wished they could be. Clean. Manned by friendly knowledgeable staff and moderately priced. Julie and Olive split an Italian Sub. Julie insisted that it was "Really REALLY good" (she really did emphasize the second good) along with a bag of fucking chips and their standard waters, which Julie pointed out as tasting exceptionally good. I will always have a special place in my heart forever more for JIMMY JOHNS upon discovery due to the fact that they offer a series of sub 'standards' that offer 'meat only' forgoing all the green booger toppings that I never get with the sandwich anyhow. These PLAIN SLIM offerings are priced to move and allowed me to get a Turkey AND Roast Beef slim for what I would have paid for one sub at PENN STATION. Finally, I don’t pay the same price for the same sub that looks like I’m getting a 'kids sandwich' because I don’t like all the garden-bullshit/filler that is unusually loaded upon such meal choices! Justice is mine at JIMMY JOHNS! I had all intents to save the Roast Beef sub for post-grocery consuming but decided to relieve it from its own existence almost immediately following the devouring of the turkey sub. My sandwiches were good. They tasted fresh and were surprisingly filling. I chose (iceless) Fruit Punch Hi-C as my first drink with a +2 refill of more Hi-C and then a [medicinal] Sprite™ as a follow-up.

This PLAIN SLIM thing hot hard. Along with Julies feelings I’m gonna have to say that JIMMY JOHNS is ABOVE the standard middle-of-the-road and give them a 4/5!!! Where-as they are not being placed into the regular rotation, JIMMY JOHNS will be considered for future consumption.

So the self-proclaimed WEEKEND OF SANDWICHES came to an end. There were disappointments and there were triumphs. There were praises and in some cases the smell of something burnt... Julie never did get that lobster sub but by Tuesday she was asking about if SUBWAY had that seafood sub as a five-dollar foot long...

Maybe one day, sometime THE WEEKEND OF SANDWICHES will return!

"It Takes Electricity..." Video

Video Filmed & Edited by AB1

OPERATION: WAR JEANS ON (Part 2)

WAR-JEANS ON
PART 2 (conclusion)


Blue jeans…


This Op (short for 'operation') continues with blue jeans...


In February 2012 I bought the first 'set' (or 'pair' for you newer fans) of blue jeans that I had ever bought as an adult...Well, that’s what I said at first but after looking into this a bit more, these jeans I purchased were not only the [confirmed] first set I got as an adult but the first set I have worn since junior high school. In a strange twist of fate, I also believe that now I’m the same waist size as I was from junior high... I’m talking 7th grade, which for THE PROVING GROUNDS (Deer Park, Ohio) included junior high.


How many people can say that? Rah!


I was a big little kid. Too afraid of pain to get blood test ran to see what was going on, too ashamed to reveal to my parents how walking the long distance from grades 1-7(from time to time) chaffed my legs to the point of turning away from denim britches opting for Dockers (if they weren’t Levi's/jeans they were 'Dockers'). The 80's were a big time for Dockers type pants, most of them with 'pleats' to make you look like you had a decent pants-tent if you didn’t sit down just right. All I had to do was admit my torture to my Dad, who often enough spent anywhere from 5 or 6, 10-12 hour days on the assembly line at General Motors and despite what the media or anti-union peoples may say, worked HARD too...I should have told him how my thick inner thighs were raw from friction and it hurt to walk, sometimes even just sit, but I didn’t. He could have told me the rewards and beautiful majesty of baby powder and then maybe I wouldn’t have turned away from denim as I have and wouldn’t be a 39 year old man just now buying his first set of jeans. I would grow up to become a factory worker too... I have had my fair share of chaffed days (despite my full endorsement of cotton pants) but I learned the tricks and majesty of baby powder, or better yet Gold Bonds medicated Powder and have since shared many 'whew, those were the times' moments with good ol' dad.


But alas, the first jeans set would end up being too big. Yeah, size 42 waists were too big. Eventually I would settle in a size 40 waists (30 length). This was a major victory in more ways than one because not only was I paying $3 more for larger sizes (waist size 44 and up) but also I was wearing a size 40-inch waist! I was back to my junior high size! But as the last millennium was drawing to a close I was about to enter a 50-inch waist size... Over the last several years I have modified my diet and trimmed down a tad. I like to think that I’m 'growing up' even still as a 39-year-old boy.


Let me let you in on something. It’s not about achieving victory, it’s about recognizing, and reclaiming; sometimes even redefining victory. My re-entry to the world was all three. Mid-January it was planned for me to accompany THE BUFFALO KILLERS (TBKs) to a showing of theirs in Dayton Ohio at The Canal Street Tavern, one of Dayton’s premiere places for live music. It is also a place I hadn’t stepped a foot into in well over a decade. Actually, in over 12 years. Since the 20th Anniversary show of THE TOXIC REASONS that I have captured in an epic seven-part series of poems titled TOXIC REASONING that were actually captured as part of the same sessions where BRANDISHING THE FUTURE were recorded but remain unreleased as spoken word offerings or print form (plans are in the works).

That night (October 2nd, 1999) was quite a night of true [drunken] rage. Not to give all the best parts of the epic TOXIC REASONING poem away, but it did involve puking, vandalism, fighting, over-drinking, hairline escapes and, you guessed it: reasoning with a common denominator of these 'high points' being good ol' Shawn Abnoxious.


So, as part of TBKs entourage, I would re-enter a place that I never said I would step foot into again, a place that didn’t kick me out that night despite my actions or officially ban me, but a place that I sort of figured I shouldn’t show my face again that I figured on forgetting about me. After all, I wasn't wearing a zipper-tie or sloganed-out button up shirt. I now sported a thickening beard and a fantastic set of jeans. My War Hero Jeans... My War-Jeans.


I would not only re-enter a place I felt may hold reasonable contempt against me but I would do so seeking a mild form of forgiveness. That night in October of 1999, I was fulfilling a role. I was a grand character in an unfinished story. I didn’t need forgiveness, but that guy in a zipper-tie was only part of me and on a mild night in late February, another side of Shawn Abnoxious would be seen.


So I trek northward. The back way into Dayton and after a quick couple stops I was once again gracing the innards of the gem city and The Canal Street Tavern. I quickly installed my self-made memorial inside the sink- chest-high men’s bathroom and a few moments after that found myself re-telling the a oral history version of the TOXIC REASONING saga to a more than interested crowd of spectators who all just had to see the surviving re-captured video clip that I have saved on my semi-smart (which also means semi-dumb) phone.

As it would turn out The Canal Street Tavern would be under new management (venue regimes are not forever) and as it would turn out the current management regime would share a particular closeness with myself. A relationship that I would even consider to be on an 'allied' type level. Before the night would be over I would ask, and receive (without hesitation) total and complete admonishment for my actions on the night of The Toxic Reasons Reunion show.


It would only seem appropriate that the night of my 'rage' would end up being one of the top moments in The Canal Street Taverns continually expanding history and the role that I played that night served its purpose. In life, we all have roles to play. The good times, the bad times... Someone has to shit the shit and someone’s gotta shovel it too. Were even. A strong truce was finally achieved in the saga that is a seven part poem called TOXIC RESONING that really closes the door on one of the darkest, wildest and blurry unforgettable times that is hard for me to remember that still amazes me with its final outcome of reasoning. Considering all the different paths before me and all the potential outcomes, reason still prevailed which had the most to do with honesty and truth.


Truth...


As for the show... Well, simply put I have really missed out in the 12 years of my self-banishment of The Canal Street Tavern and any of their shows. The place was comfortable, well kept and actually pleasant. There was a bunch of people sporting PBRs and others with while pictures of beer (with pussy glasses to drink from). One of those choices I respect, one of those choices I don’t (which is which you think?). I was majorly impressed with the sound system and its execution and the generously forgiving staff seemed to give the Tavern patrons what they needed when they needed it, without delay and with a friendly disposition.



Cincinnati natives, WUSSY began the show and set the pace for an awesome nights soundtrack. I have been in the presence of other Wussy performances in the past bit as I explained to Chuck (guitarist/vocalist) it was always when some other nightly drama or rage was occurring. On this night I would give Wussy attention like I never had before. I ask Chuck and the rest of the band to hereby forgive me (also) and accept my apologies, not for exactly ignoring them, but for not giving the band their just deserved attention! Each song was better than the last and I’m left, at sets end, not only wanting to hear more but also being downright humbled by their overall presence. Wussy are a band that others, including myself (especially me) can learn lessons from concerning every aspect of what it means to be in a band, watch bands or even listen to bands. I’m ashamed to say that I don’t own any Wussy CDs and too ashamed to buy them in front of the band. I will pick them up discreetly when no one is watching.



The lessons in humility continued with THE BUFFALO KILLERS. Who all smelled like a pile of [next level] burning leaves. It had been a while since I had seen the boys and in that lapse they have went on a couple tours and did countless shows and the growth and experience gained is surely noticed. TBKs are pros on every level that exist. I would be impressed with them even if I didn’t share the levels of closeness that I do that also allows me to ask, and learn personal information directly related to their public displays of rock and/or roll. I genuinely respect these guys from back-in-the-day™ until now, and to beyond. The thing is, TBKs are on the level that they were just as excited to have be around and were equally respectful of me. That’s some genuine level shit. Their set started off with a couple new and yet unreleased songs that were verily much on the level. Their set progressed to include a sorts of 'greatest hits' exposition from all three of their fullies and as Zach discussed on the back road ride to Dayton and through Dayton, a few of their numbers included some of the more rarely played selections from their latest fullie, "3". TBKs set built on itself song by song and I really wanted to go crazy with the camera and really flex out with some multiple shottage but I didn’t want to loose the prime spot I had next to the stage, which just so happened to be the same spot I stood for TOXIC REASONS Way-Backwhen®. Besides, I was mesmerized by their set. It was a fucking match; hit after hit in there and I didn’t wanna miss a moment. You see, also, one of the things I noticed about TBKs that I didn’t noticed before was how when they are setting up their equipment the on looking crowd will vacate their Tables, stools and in Canal Street Taverns case, pews, so they can jockey for a good spot next to the stage for the performance. In the Canal Street Tavern they’re are really no bad spots to watch the band but that still didn’t keep people from homesteading an even better spot. So I held onto my spot as opposed to fetching my 'real' camera...


On the back-road ride home which did not include a late night burger romp at a 24 hour McDonalds in Germantown (oh, how I have changed since '99) we talked of old times and new ones and of times yet to be. The return ride took me past three of the five locations that I recognized from specific dreams I have had during the ride up there and no great revelation why these certain places that I could not remember ever being near or visiting during my waking hours, were so visited during my sleep but I didn’t spend much time being lost in that marvel. I just accepted it for what it was, which in itself is a great mystery.


At one point Zach had seen an impressive shooting star and asked if I had also seen it. This back-road ride was an unfamiliar route to me so my attention was on the road and the navigating machine attached to the window telling me where to turn. I did not see the shooting star ad Zach had. I told Zach that he should make a wish upon the shooting star, which is a tradition surrounded in debate and doubt as to its origins... Zach began answering my suggestion before I could add the silent space for unseen punctuation signaling my sentences end proclaiming that he already had, secretly (as the tradition dictates), expunged a wish that the shooting star could carry back down to earth fir dissemination.


Many people would ask someone else during an instance such as this what they wished for... despite the tradition that you are supposed to keep it to yourself or the wish may be nullified. I don’t know if Zach would have readily relinquished what he wished for and risked the possibility of nullification but he did not share his wish, and I did not ask... Sometimes tomorrow might never cone so you should just let it ride.


So I let it ride.


Then, as if prophecy... The next week I would have to hold up my head and make a stand (re: the 20th Century Fox deletion commands of The Last American from Mediafire). It’s hard to sometimes note prophecy in such odd places and by bits and pieces and what will exactly happen until it actually does happen. But its all out there, we just got to open our eyes wide to it.


•••


"Hey! Your wearing jeans..." I pointed out to Zach who had jokingly promised me earlier in the week to also wear a set of jeans the night of the show.


"We're jean-bothers brother" I added.


"It's really not a big deal" he said "I pretty much wear jeans all the time"  


Zach would go on to randomly sing the chorus to "Baby's Got Her Blue Jeans On" by Mel McDaniel throughout the entire night. Zach could really 'hit the notes' too.

THEE LAST DAYS OF THEE SUCK-OFF

(Status in Verse)
Stay tuned for a message from the front...
It's always a battle...

Fight after fight these days...

These UltrAmerican™ days

of UltrAmerican™ ways...

February 29th, 2012

Thee Last Days of Thee Suck-Off.

The end has begun...

Their end....

Measured (as worth)

by the fervor their attacks...

I’m (if anything) impressed...

Next level dedication.

That dangerous as realized!

  Their attempts to silence...

                  And/or to nullify...

                   And/or to pacify...

              And/or to eliminate...

    Their attempted extinction...

                    Their death blow...

    Against The Last American...

It's real cute (if anything).

Special and endearing (if anything).

Desperate and revealing (if anything).

But I have listened.

I have paid attention.

I have been a good student.

I have learned well...

Too well to just accept

their judgments

and attacks...

                  I have learned too much

to just lay down and surrender now.

There is no surrender!

                  Only death.

There is no compromise!

The Last American is on the death-ground

There is nothing to do but fight (or else).

To survive (if anything) (or else).

With a river behind

and their spears ahead...

No escape...

But... Alas! 

They can still be out maneuvered.

Their machine is big and cumbersome.

Perseverance holds true in the battle, the war...

(it always has)

      They have been out maneuvered

(already) the very moment they attacked...

The Last American, already, had won. 

Their attack was all they had left...

The real fight (on this side) hasn't began yet.

...yet

            A brief time of reflection

            reveals; a plan!

THERE IS A PLAN!!!!

Instant reference to Department 1!!!

The Last American will survive.

The Last American will persist.

The Last American has just began to fight.

The Last American stands on the death-ground...

The Last American has already won!

You cannot kill an idea...

You cannot win a war 

        you already lost.

You cannot beat an enemy

   that has nothing to loose.

You cannot wage war 

  against the ungovernable.

You cannot draw a line 

          and dare its crossing!

You can never defeat a survivor...

They have learned nothing!

The Last American has learned everything.

The Last American is a corner-fighter...

The other end, the other side

far away from what they got.

The opposition to what they have to offer...

What they got, it isn't wanted by most...

By The Last American

Go ahead, have your spot,

but stay away from here.

Keep out! 

No rats allowed! 

This is Freedom Zone Zero!

I don't care about what you have,

I let you exist, to prove my point.

Keep Away!

No rats allowed!

Are you that afraid?

That insecure?

That worried?

You don't have to answer that...

I don't expect an answer...

I know the answer.

I see your beautiful fear.

Your actions have beget your answer.

I see your desperation.

I thrive on your desperation.

Is that all you got?

I know that answer too...

I’m not drawing a line,

This...

All of this...

This is a crossing of a line.

                             Your line.

Pushing thru your line.

This is a beginning.

This is survival.

I don't want what you got.

I want what I already have.

Freedom is mine.

Zone Zero is MINE!

Is The Last American that dangerous?

You don't need to answer that.

You have already answered that.

I know the answer.

A plan exist.

There is a plan!

Yeah, you should be nervous!

You should be afraid.

Watch your lines...

Keep your eyes open.

Country-air is good for you.

Breathe deeply.

You will breathe deeply.

God, bless America.

God, forgive America.

God has blessed The Last American.

Thank you for your blessings!

They are accepted.

The question remains unanswered

even now...

Who is the Last American?

You don't have to answer that...

Your actions have shown the answer...

The student has become the master.

The master is nervous 

during thee last days of thee suck-off,

and I...

I understand!

I know what I must do.

Its clear to me what must be done.

I am left with no other choice!

I will...

I must...  Spike thee victory!

(once again)

OR ELSE!

Ultimately, this is all your fault.

See how well I have learned after all?