The Adelaide scene: to many of you it may be little more than a touring speed bump between Melbourne and Perth but to us it's a way of life. Feast within, on all its dysfunctional splendour, as we bring you the highly satirical, laughingly fictional and intellectually imbecile tales from our rock & roll wasteland...
KYTES OF OMAR + FOXX ON FIRE + THE HONEY PIES LIVE @ THE ED CASTLE / THE GRACE EMILY / Saturday November 28th 2009
Now I don't know if any of you have noticed this, what with all that OTHER junk that's been preoccupying our minds of late: from climate change, the credit crunch, the energy crisis, Swine Flu, The War On Terror (pfft.. what a joke that's been!), the obesity epidemic, music piracy, Somali pirates, all those disappearing bees, or that whole Britney Spears debacle (no really did anyone else ever watch Weekend At Bernie's!? it's freaking obvious duuude!) but there's something else significant that we're STILL missing here. We're living in the year 2009. In a little under a month it'll be in 2010. Just stop and think about THAT for a second. No really! Put down your bong, pry yourself loose from that Xbox, Wii, Playstation, myspace, youtube, wikipedia, LOLcats, twitter feed, facebook, Farmville or whatever-the-fuck and really take a moment to let that shit sink in. Look around you, look out your front door, look under your sofa cushions.. WE'RE LIVING IN THE FUCKING FUTURE MAAAN!! I'm not even kidding! We're living there RIGHT NOW!! All those super futuristic dates set by classic sci-fi like Nineteen Eighty-Four, Lost In Space, Escape From New York, Escape From L.A., Strange Days and 2001: A Space Odyssey?: we're already well past them. Weirder still we're less than ten years away from Back To The Future Part II, Running Man and fucking Blade Runner!? I KNOW!! Now take another GOOD look around you. Do you see any flying cars, hoverboards, spaceships, laser guns, transporters, replicators, superintelligent robotic sex slaves, or wise cracking extraterrestials floating about!? No really! stop laughing, stop taking all that acid, DO YOU SEE ANY OF THAT COOL SHIT!? NO!! I mean do we at least get to have a post apocalyptic wasteland fuck full of leatherclad gimps to shoot at and blow shit to hell!? FUCK NO!! No.. don't show me that iphone, don't wave it around like it's freaking Star Trek, it's just not the same duude! We're living in the future and I gotta ask you.. WHAT THE FUCK WENT WRONG!?
Well shit duuude, I don't even need to TELL you what went wrong! Simply switch on the TV, the radio, flick through any newspaper or magazine (or better yet the tabloids) and see for yourself. Our future's long gone! Most of our mainstream society, politics, religion, organised sports, Top 40 Charts, TV networks and Hollywood (aka: our entire cultural zeitgeist in general) did away with it years ago! We're living in an idiocracy maaan! All we've got is a retarding profit and loss statement run by money grabbing "bean counters" churning out an endless array of eighties flashbacks (aka: the ONE decade where too much greed wasn't nearly enough!) catering to none other but the most psychotic and inhumane freaks of us all (ie: market everything to thirteen year old girls and let peer pressure take care of the rest.. SCORE!!). I know, it's insane, it's fucking joke! I mean have you seen what these "geniuses" are coughing up of late!? DUUUDE!! It's hell on Earth.. and NOT in a good way! The good news however is that most of us saw this coming YEARS ago. Ever since the Spice Girls we simply stole everything of value we could find, squirreled it away onto the internet where it could flourish, and started up our very OWN civilisation instead. YEAAAS!! Lawyers and accountants don't create shit maaan: PEOPLE do! Which is why we're here at The Grace Emily tonight. Sure it might be little more than a shortlived reprieve before the proverbial shitstorm engulfs us all in the "long night ahead", but as one of the chances few sanctuaries left (ie: outside of a bittorrent) STILL devoted to all that's awesome in this world? it's here that we'll celebrate!
THE HONEY PIES (****1/2) myspace :: Yup our opening act tonight is every reason why I'm more than happy to take a quick detour from The Ed Castle: for all the reasons that'll become more eye gougingly apparent later on this evening (and no it's got nothing to do with the bands I swear!) and instead make an impromptu appearance here at The Grace Emily. Why!? well for one they're NOT an "overhyped fashion band". They're not indie electro, nu-rave, dance punk or italo disco. They're not five kinds of shitcrazy fluorescent, fashion tragic, stabbingly four four with a strobe light, screamingly metrosexual nor do any of them pull retarded shapes around a microkorg. Better yet, not once will we need to compare them to Fleet Foxes or describe any of it as being "alt country", "nanna" or "freak folk"!? SHIT YEAAAH!! That's why I'm here tonight! Yup they're The Honey Pies. I may have seen them five times already this year: two of those times as either solo acoustic or as a duo (and this being their last appearance for 2009) but I swear it hasn't been nearly enough (at least for the sake of my own sanity). They're classic "indie pop", the rarest of the rare. There's maybe only a handful of other local acts who also share a similar wavelength: The Keepsakes, 20th Century Graduates, Humble Bee and Cheer Advisory Council (or at least from what I'm dimly aware of). And what unites them all above simply sharing a "genre" (and a non descript one at that) is that tireless devotion to what really matters the most: songwriting. For as much as you can hear everything from The Beatles, The Libertines, The Vines to The Arctic Monkeys in their sound: it's the songwriting that makes it their own. That "timeless" quality in their attention to both lyrics and arrangement that makes them more than just a sum of their parts. And short of all the injokes they keep cracking about their drummer not being able to get his girlfriend into the venue tonight because she forgot her ID (so much so I'm half surprised they even let their drummer in WITH one) it's definitely what you notice the most about their set. You can hear it in their lead singer Jon Marco. From his shitcrazy delivery that channels everything from Craig Nicholls, Pete Doherty, Devendra Banhart (to standup comedian Bobcat Goldthwait!?). To his whimsical take on lyrics and all the sly stories that they weave. To his bandmates equally as genius in bringing this shit to life. From Tony Marshall's noodling guitar solos and Tom McCarthy-Jones punchy bass rhythms to Marcus Warnecke's frenetic drumming, and in how they form such easy going arrangements that encompass everything from tranquil, contemplative, to explosive that make for a truly versatile set: a song for all seasons. Yeah I know I'm talking a whole lot of superlative gibberish here, there's no nearly enough jokes at their expense, but it's hard to fault this band no matter what angle you attack them from. Better yet they've released a demo recently, you can totally steal it off of their Triple J Unearthed, so you don't even have to take MY word for it (but if you did I'd totally recommend "Sold My Soul" it's pure freaking genius!). The Honey Pies. In so many ways they're one of Adelaide's best kept secrets (and in every way I swear that ISN'T an insult) but if I can help it duuude they won't be that way for long! Come new years, I'm gonna make them famous, I'm gonna make their lives a living hell! Why!? because they deserve nothing less!
10:37PM - Yup with an opening act as damn near head explodingly awesome as The Honey Pies, or fuck it maybe it was just the stage lighting (hmmm do you think I got carried away with all those live photos I used!? OOOOH FUCK NO!!) I swear I never wanted to leave. Quite like the Jade Monkey before (or even Jive on the odd night out), The Grace Emily has become a safe haven of sorts: like a teeny tiny brain fart burning brightly against the ever growing forces of "daftness" in the world beyond. Because shit duuude I don't know if you've noticed, but it's only getting worse out there! We're talking waaay worse than a post nuclear zombie apocalypse fuck full of laser beam shooting, breakdancing mechanoids (because come to think of it? that'd almost make for the BEST MOVIE EVER!!) we're talking.. actually you know what? maybe we should just show you instead. Yup it's taken considerable effort (read: years of "professional drinking") to prepare myself for this moment but I think we're now ready to face the inevitable. For what we're about to witness here tonight is NOT The Ed Castle of "old", it's not same venue that we've come to know and love over the past two years (or perhaps love inappropriately.. isn't that right Josh Moore from The Touch!?) but a terrifying glimpse of what's yet to come! Think of it as a cautionary tale, think of it as a laughable work of fiction, deny it all you want till it all goes away like a bad dream, either way it sure as shit ain't gonna be pretty as we bring to you: The Ed Castle of the FUUUTURE!!
Or yeah maybe it's nothing. You see what we're dealing with HERE is the ever infamous "change in ownership/management". Also known as your much beloved "live music venue that once served up three kinds of beer and a smile" suddenly being replaced by yet another "expensive drug habit" that serves up nothing but Redbull, shaved apes, spray tans, a pounding kickdrum, and you waiting in line for three hours straight (outside of an empty venue no less) simply because the bouncer doesn't "like the look of your shoes". Arguably it doesn't ALWAYS go down like this. Some have changed hands numerous times with little or no consequence (like say The Crown & Anchor back in late 2006) but it HAS happened enough times in the past for us to suspect anything BUT the status quo to follow (like say Zhivago, The Austral, The Prince Albert or whatever-the-fuck happened to Producers Bar.. yeeeouch!). So here at The Ed Castle DO we have anything to fear!? Well as much as it's only just changed hands two weeks ago, and for the most part appears to be "business as usual", there are a few "changes" we could read into one way or the other. Some of them are quite subtle: like these somewhat cheesy looking black and white printouts (no really do you have other fonts besides TIMES NEW ROMAN!?) updating us on all their upcoming events.
Or this fuglyarse poster collage celebrating "past events" plastered all over the back walls in the beergarden (note the prominent display of both Big Day Out and Triple J posters: perhaps in a way to reassure us all that YES they're still "tragically hip" to the scenster crowds? awwww how nice!).
And then there's the NOT so subtle: like this shiny new paintjob they've given to the band room. The ONE change which initially caused the LOUDEST complaints. Looking at it now however I don't quite get it. I mean when it's all dark like this it actually looks quite inviting, like we're returning to the womb again: only it's really large, smells a little weird, and all our friends can fit inside it (OOOOH YEAH that's totally not creepy at all!). Hmmm I wonder how it looks with the flash on!?
WHAT THE..!? YOU PAINTED THE BAND ROOM HOT PINK!!!??? WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU IDIOTS THINKING!? MY EYES!! THEY'RE BLEEEEDING!!!!!! And yet "Tiny Tim" here at the mixing desk still seems ok with it!? "Oh you don't even notice the colour after a few days". DON'T EVEN NOTICE THE COLOUR!? Oh I bet you don't! Just like you don't run through every red light, slam into walls, or have problems discerning between simple shapes and colours moments before falling off a cliff to your untimely doom because all this EYE GOUGING PINK doesn't make you go blind!? FUUUCK!!
And if that wasn't "awesome" enough? here's Antonia (and no that's not the punchline.. although HA HA HA if you thought it was!). You may remember her as one of the former barstaff at The Ed Castle (I know.. what's not to love!?) and by "former barstaff" I totally mean they all got fired last week. Which as disturbing as that may sound? isn't all that uncommon in any given "change of ownership/management" (read: revolution, uprising or coup) as many new regimes love nothing better than to instill loyalty in all their employees: simply by getting rid of them all and hiring NEW staff instead. And wow isn't Antonia simply "overjoyed" to be on the receiving end of that too!?
Yup we're witness to "The Ed Castle of the FUUUTURE!!" alright, of that there can be no doubt. And there's only ONE way to celebrate it: and that's by getting all kinds of hilariously shitfaced drunk and bitching about how it ALL went horribly wrong! "No really *sniff* I freaking loved that barstaff maaan! and they fucking fired them!? DAMN YOU NEW OWNERSHIP!! DAMN YOU TO HELL!!". Oh and as for what all these wacky shots are that we're drinking ourselves retarded with!? In times gone by we might've called it "Agwa de Bolivia" but tonight? fuck it.. you can call it Soylent Green!
11:23PM - Stumbling back into the "band room" at last (if only in name?) I wondered if there would still be "live entertainment" provided for us in "The Ed Castle of the FUUUTURE!!" and what shitcrazy form it would ultimately take (of course I was ALSO wondering what was in that Soylent Green I just drank.. but yeaaah that's neither here or there). I mean would it still be a live band of any description? Would they play instruments!? Or would they simply mime it off a laptop, an ipod, an iphone, jerk off to a wii-mote? or thrash about like crazy on a guitar hero controller!? And would any of it still be recogniseable as actual songs? or would it just be ringtones, chiptunes, advertising jingles, nothing but youtubes of that wacky cat playing piano? or that fat kid playing Star Wars!? or worse a choir of Kayne West clones singing in chipmunk autotune and rapping to an ATM pincode!? OH THE HORROR! OH THE HUMANITY!! WHY OH WHY DID I EVER LEAVE THE GRACE EMILY!?
FOXX ON FIRE (****1/2) myspace :: Which is why I'm ever so relieved to see our "opening act" (yes opening act!) FINALLY make their appearance on The Ed Castle stage tonight and realise that YES they're still very much "alive". I mean sure, they might just be yet another "overhyped fashion band" set to fuck us up sideways in yet another retarding dancefloor frenzy (yeah not like we didn't get enough of THAT in 2009!) but by this point duuude? they're practically an act of nostalgia! Better yet I dare say they're actually quite good at what they do (which coming from ME is definitely saying something!). Yup Foxx On Fire from Melbourne, are in essence a "greatest hits compilation" of every awesome indie electro, nu-rave cliché you could possibly ever want crammed into the one live band (and no that's not a gross contradiction in terms) without all the embarassing side effects that would otherwise fuck it up. Their main influence appears to be The Rapture. And by "appear to be" I pretty much mean it's bleedingly obvious: in both the messy art rock extremes they ape from the 2003 album "Echoes" to the subtropical party jams you'd find in their 2006 album "Pieces Of The People We Love". But you can also hear everything else from Primal Scream (aping all the same psychedelic extremes only not nearly as dark) to early Muse (especially in lead singer Paul Housden's hysterical falsetto). To all manner of localised quirks shared by other Australian electro contemporaries from Lost Valentinos, Van She, Cut Copy, The Cassette Kids to The Dardanelles. And it's that driven combination especially in James Ratsasane's dark post punk rhythm and Geno Carrapetta's hammering four to the floor drums, complimented by a technicolour light array of Edward Housden buzzing synths and Paul's angular guitar riffs that while ALL too familiar: still nail that mad buzz again and again. But what makes them more than just a cookie cutter isn't just their precision and polish, but more so the itchy trigger way in which they unleash it. They don't just perform this shit like clockwork they "perforate" it through all the walls and ceiling like an exploding bag of popcorn laced with crack cocaine. No really, just you try and keep track of their keyboardist for one and you'll know exactly what I'm on about. One moment he'll have his arm raised in a fascist salute while the other punches out a martial crunch, then he's hammering those same keys like a demented hunchback, then he's fucking about on his guitar, then he's whacking the shit out of a wooden block, then he's lost somewhere in the audience. And yet as much as it's like Daffy Duck on ADHD keeping up with it (no shit I could've sworn there was actually five of him at one point), not only do the rest of the band simply play along like it's "business as usual" but they never lose track of that hammering groove that keeps things rolling. Yup the overall effect, as cheesy as it may potentially be (and then some!), still whips you into a killing frenzy that never lets up. Every song is introduced as "yet another song for dancing" (without a hint of irony) and YES it does exactly as prescribed! Foxx On Fire. As much as they may be just another in a long line of bands "beating the same predictable schtick" beyond the point of retarded for the past two years. In the mad way in which they unleash it? I'll still happily get fucked up to all the same!
Yup by every definition (short of insanity) they're not the sort of band you'd want to approach like a "spectator sport". You don't form a "semi-circle of doom", nodding your head, sipping your beer, staring at your phone and stifling a yawn for forty minutes (or better yet take shitloads of photos under the mistaken belief you're a photojournalist? FUCK YEAAAH!!). No they demand nothing short of full crowd participation! Which (and I think I can speak on behalf of all Adelaide audiences here) we would usually respond with a resounding: "BWAAAHAHAHAHA!! GOOD LUCK WITH THAT YA SHITHEADS!!". No really, it's what we love to do here in Adelaide! We stare you down, you leave, you never come back, WE WIN!! But not THIS time. OOOH FUCK NO!! For not only did they get more than three token pisswads flailing out front, they got the everyone involved. And when they pulled the ultimate "puppet master" trick on us and got everyone on the floor, and better yet WE ACTUALLY WENT ALONG WITH IT!? I swear duuude it was like watching The Wiggles at work!
But all that paled in comparison with THIS dude. No shit! Nobody had a clue where he came from, and I mean NOBODY, even the band themselves couldn't explain him. Was he Klingon? Viking beserker? or an exploding can of Redbull!? Who the fuck knows!? But there's no doubt he LIVED for Foxx On Fire. It wasn't just a band for him, OOOH FUCK NO! It was nothing short of religion!
He was truly in a league of his own (no really, check out the video!). And not just for his shitcrazy dancemoves that frequently devolved into boxing routines, or when he picked up that foldback speaker like he was about to throw it, or how he kept on shouting about how fuckoff awesome Foxx On Fire were. No what was most mind boggling was when he dropped on all fours and did pushups. Yes PUSH UPS! And not just any old pushups: but that extra special "species of insane" that involves launching off the ground, clapping mid swing, and landing again. And none of it was an isolated incidence either: OOOH FUCK NO, he pulled this shit for THE ENTIRE FUCKING SET!!
Moments after the last song finished, eyes still spinning, he lumbers right up to me. Addressing me in a mid distant stare, as if I were a thousand people he shouts: "ADELAAAIDE.. DO WE GET AN ENCORE!?". I looked behind me half expecting to SEE a thousand people, only to realise it was just me. Only for him to continue with the even more bizarre: "OR WHERE I COME FROM WE LIKE TO SAY.." followed by an utterly unintelligible dialect that was either Hebrew, Hungarian, Babylonian, Maori or something you'd otherwise hear uttered at a Star Trek convention. Obviously I didn't have an answer, and unfortunately for him they didn't play an encore but you gotta hand it to him: thanks to his gargantuan weirdness, we sure as shit won't be forgetting THIS band in a hurry!
KYTES OF OMAR (****1/2) myspace :: Which brings us to our headlining act and WOW FUCK talk about having an impossible act to follow. I mean no shit? how could you EVEN approach that level of insanity? I MEAN REALLY!? And yet when I asked Joe Russo their guitarist the exact same question moments before their show? he simply responded with a sly grin and "don't worry duuude, we're like the Pepsi Max of Rock: Maximum Taste, No Sugar!". Which either means he's completely lost his shit (and no it wouldn't be the first time) or he actually has a damn good point to make (or at least I THINK he does!?). You see this band are NO strangers to impossible odds. I mean just look at these freaks, they're an anomaly in the Adelaide scene! Too loud and hairy for the indie kids, too polished and precise for the rock crowd (or you know what's left of them). They're either the very first or last of a re-emerging or dying breed in this city. They're a hybrid, a mongrel, a chance rock & roll collision point between Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and Queens Of The Stone Age. No shit duuude they stick out like a sore thumb! And until that zeitgeist finally flips in their favour like Nirvana back in '89, or The White Stripes back in '99? yeaaah let's face it they're pretty much screwed! Which is why like many other nights before them in 2009 (and especially here in "The Ed Castle of the FUUUTURE!!") they well and truly have their work cut out for them. Yup just like a live scene equivalent of Planet Of The Apes in reverse: they're four fearless space monkeys crash landing in a super futuristic world fuck full of plastic fashion mannequins in sequins and flashing strobes and they're fighting for their lives. But as Joe Russo suggests: it's a nightmare scenario they're more than familiar with. For Kytes Of Omar more than anything else of late have become a howling "FUCK YOU!!" to the establishment. From the happy go lucky surf rock innocence of their "Let's Go Diagonal" EP they've devolved into a shrieking, cynical, downright diabolical beast of rock. Guitars are more monster shredding now (especially in the "oscillating raygun" effect that Joe Russo employs). Anthony Candlish's vocals are more gutteral and visceral. Mike Iuliano's rhythm and Frank Lloyd's drums dig deeper like a punch to the guts. There's a distinctive meaty hook here that works well beyond the conscious level now, it works on instinct maaan! And although some of these hipster hoards may have fled to the DJ decks to compare designer labels at the mere sight of them (pfft!), the rest of us have welcomed them like nothing short of a call to arms. Like all the dirtiness of Nirvana's "Bleach" combined with all the epic bombast of Kasabian's self titled: they're mostly new songs here, they're all hairy as fuck, but they're everything we could ever ask for as a much needed "antidote" to The Ed Castle orthodoxy. "Metro", "Rocker", "Murder At The Carnival" and "Crayons" especially meet very little resistance in their Blitzkrieg assault, so much so that "Not My City" (one of their older songs in the set tonight) almost sounds naive by comparison. But the overall effect here is definitely more than welcome in both its ferocity and focus. Kytes Of Omar. Just like the proverbial underdog cocking its leg and pissing all over all that is indie disco. They may be grossly outnumbered now, but one day with shit like this? they'll truly reign supreme!
But of course it didn't end there. As much as Foxx On Fire may have given us an "impossible act to follow" (or more accurately their psychotic "superfan" sure as shit did) Kytes Of Omar certaintly weren't shy in "upping that ante". Admittedly it was just the same song they always end their set with "Soldier", only this time it turned out just a little bit different. You see I've heard this song so many times now, over the past two years in fact, that I can easily recite all the words (not necessarily a bad thing.. it's an awesome song!) so for laughs I thought: "fuck it.. why don't I just join in!?". And so I snuck up on stage planning to do just that (expecting little more than audience ambivalence in return) only to discover everyone else has simply followed me up there instead. The end result? yeaaah I think THIS video pretty much sums it right up: pure fucking carnage!
2:34AM - No shit it was epic, it was intense, it was insane, it was Kytes Of Omar's closing number providing us with just about everything we could ever ask for to commiserate "the end of an era": not just with a "whimper" but with an overblown apocalpytic explosion that'd be sure to shower a five block radius in a fine spray of our aerosol innards. For surely this could ONLY be the end! The Ed Castle is dead! DEAD, PEOPLE!! DEAAAD!! FOR MY NAME IS SPOZ SPOZINGTON, DRUNK OF DRUNKS: LOOK ON MY WORKS, YE MIGHTY, AND DESPAIR!! WAAAAUAUAUGH!! Or in other words yeaaah I'm pretty sure I'm NOT overreacting to any of this "new ownership" shit, not ONE teeny tiny bit (pfft.. like that ever happens!?) and they won't simply be hosting live bands here NEXT weekend. Hmmm so who's up for getting REALLY drunk then? pretty much everyone!? Awesome!
2:39AM - Now normally I'd simply hit up the beer garden for all the above (aaaah the hilarious hijinx we'd get upto too!) but with its future uncertain, and the venue all but "abandoned" as a result (as clearly it has nothing to do with the fact that it was shit freezing and blowing gale force winds all night.. no really? WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THIS WEATHER OF LATE!?) I was compelled to seek my "final solution" elsewhere. And in doing so I was greeted by THIS sorry sight outside: a funeral procession of scenster tragics looking for the "next best thing". Awwww I know! And like them, I TOO wondered where I should go to next. Could it be The Metro? Rhino? Enigma? Zhivago? Cuckoo? could we make Rocket cool again? (BWAAAHAHaHAhAHA.. oh wait you're being serious!?) or maybe we could take the "serious" suggestion these freaks offered me and head off to Garage instead? Maaaaybe.. I mean stranger things have been known to happen riiight!?
Which is why I obviously ended up here instead..
3:07AM - Aaaah Supermild: the last refuge for the damned! It doesn't matter what dystopiate sci-fi future you may find yourself in: whether it's some kind of cyberpunk, film noir, Neo Tokyo, post nuclear, Mad Max, alien invading, zombie apocalypse schtick straight out of a Lady GaGa video (OH FUCK NO!! NOT THAT!! ANYTHING BUT THAT!!). Or fuck it.. even if you don't have a future at all. There's no place better to solve all your problems (and replace them with a whole host of new ones). Here in this underground bunker with two easily defendable exits, a DJ cranking mad shit off the "Godfather" soundtrack, a ready supply of long necks beers, and a staircase out back that leads absolutely nowhere? YEAAAS!! I mean just look at all these smiling faces tonight, these weirdly SOBER smiling faces, these um.. yeaaah maybe we need to do something about that!?
Aaaah that's better! Wait, who the fuck are all of these freak again!? AAAAH WHO CARES!!
Yup it's a comforting thought that no matter what time period you may find yourself in, there will always be the same blitheringly incoherent pisswads to greet you. It doesn't matter if they're head to toe hairy, dragging knuckles, on horseback, firing muskets, flying about in teeny tiny space ships, on acid, or a curious shade of lime green: as long as they still possess the technology to synthesize vast quantities of alcohol? everyone will speak the same language! Awesome huh!?
And it's here that you'll always find me at the end of a Friday or Saturday. Why? because I always feel "welcome" here at Supermild: past, present or future! Isn't that right Tara: quite possibly the same "Tara" I got that shitcrazy photo of at the end of LAST week's blog!? OOOH FUCK YEAH!!
4:29AM - Many millions of years hence, or maybe just half an hour before "normal" closing time (DAMN YOU!!) we finally stumbled out of Supermild again and found ourselves in a strange new world. Humanity had long gone. Save for a few plastic bags, styrofoam and Supermild (go figure!?) there was nary a sign that we'd even existed. Superintelligent cockroaches now roamed the Earth. Evidence of their supreme rule could be seen just about everywhere, and we just so happened to be standing in front of one of their "pizza places" (or so we were lead to believe). Obviously we couldn't refuse the offer, no matter how insane it may've seemed in theory (yeah ok.. we were drunk), and so after much mad clicking and waving of antennae we hunkered down to our meal.
Aaaah that oily texture, that oozing, that pussing, that irresistible punching bag aroma! Oh how it makes my eyes water and my nostrils sing! And then when that ever so subtle "furry sensation" is overtaken by that not so subtle "bubbling sensation"? like a million bacterium bursting to be let free!? aaaah such sweet symphony! And you tell me it's made out of crispy moth carcasses, millipede excrement and at least five kinds of fermenting garbage!? Sure.. I'd love another slice!
Moments later I was joined by Antonia.. which I initially thought was a little odd (you know, me being in "cockroach world" and all) only to see a mad procession of my kind scrambling out of Supermild in her wake. There was maybe thirty us now. Some like Antonia here were more than happy to feast upon the "mad splendour" in front of them. Others simply blinking and looked utterly bewildered. And yet as strange as this all was, by the very fact that we were here, together, made this place feel just like home. Sure we may be far and few between now, sure we may be hunted as food, but in the grand scheme of things: does it really make a shit of difference!?
Yup it's anyone's guess what the future may bring. Whether it be one year, three years, fifty billion, or even just next week on a Tuesday: it's all so uncertain. In fact the only thing we CAN be certain of? is humanity itself. As long as we're still around it's pretty much the same. Get a monkey, a shaved monkey, a monkey in a space suit shot into space: it's still a monkey. Give a monkey an iphone: it's still a monkey. Train a monkey to fly an F-117 and bomb the fuck out of a country you can't even pronounce: it's still a monkey. Better yet get four of them and now you've got a rock band. The same sights, the same smells, the same Adelaide scene just as colourful and fucked up as it'll ever be: for all that the future may bring? let's hope THAT never changes!
