What's so civil about war anyway?

I heard the song "Civil War" by Guns N' Roses on the radio today. It's funny that these lyrics could easily be from an Aus Rotten song. These guys are idiots.

My hands are tied
The billions shift from side to side
And the wars go on with brainwashed pride
For the love of God and our human rights
And all these things are swept aside
By bloody hands time can't deny
And are washed away by your genocide
And history hides the lies of our civil wars

I like to imagine Axl singing something a little more like Lil' John:

My shit is tight
Got my jersey on, got my dreadlocks long
Layin' tracks all night, we do it right
Snortin' yayo all day is outta sight
Fans are hypnotized, starz in their eyez
Slash rips that shit while I tantalize
You're gonna die, you filthy slime
My serpentine will crush your skinny throat

Maybe that version will be on Chinese Democracy when it comes out in the year never.

Old Man...You're so weak...

As I was writhing around in bed this morning, I had a thought. Houses should have horns. Car horns. Something I can just lay on. Maybe not. I just want to be able to do something about the kids who wake up at 7am and just start running wild in the streets like some kinda god damn magic show when all I wanna do is sleep off these 8 beers and go to work in a couple hours. Wow, I am totally an old man. But, seriously, if I could install some kind of gigantic megaphone on the front of my house so I could yell at kids to get off my lawn I'd probably be pretty happy with myself.

AND ANOTHER THING!

Guess what? No one in our band likes our band name. I don't know how this happened. It's been 3 months. We need a new band name. Please give us more ideas! They're hilarious and we'll never use them.

IMMINENT DON'T

Chickenfoot - I Can't Listen to this Shitty Music at 55rpms anymore.

Where were you when you heard about Sammy Hagar's new 'supergroup,' Chickenfoot? When you heard that Joe Satriani was on guitar, Michael Anthony was on bass, and Chad Smith was playing drums did you totally flip out? When you heard that badass name did you hurl and shatter your zong in excitement? Were your friends and family devastated for weeks when they couldn't find you anywhere, only to discover you in your apartment- malnourished, sickly and writhing on the floor in a seizure after having read THIS?!?!??!:

"When people hear the music, it's Led Zeppelin. It's as good as that. I know that's a mighty bold statement... We could rival Zep." - Sammy Hagar

If you were...Give up. There's no hope for you.

WOW! A BRAND NEW LED ZEPPELIN!!! no one's ever tried that! Let's check out our new heroes of Rock n' Roll. The dudes who are gonna start a rockolution and save us from the complete cum dumpster that is the last 30 years of popular music! Check out your totally new, red-rockin', cabo-wabo drinkin' Robert Plant 2.0!

Look at that guy! He could be passed out on your couch! Awesome!

The mysterious black magic of Jimmy Page will now be shat out by this fucking pompous, weird-looking alien dude:

You're doing it wrong. Hands go the other way. Return to mothership.

Don't forget that amazing Zep rhythm section, sporting the familiar heavy tones of this jackass with a whiskey bass and wrestling shoes.

"Whoa, dude! What is in this stuff?!?!"

This must be where Hagar had to stop and think. The thoughts zipping through the Red Rocker's notoriously fake-baked head weren't the ones you would think (i.e. "What a worthless career i've made for myself"; "I should probably kill myself by drinking Mike Anthony's bass" or "I think I got HPV from that waitress...wait, that was a chick, right?"), but rather "Who could possibly fill the gigantic boots of John Bonham? Jason Bonham won't do. No, not Jimmy Chamberlin, not Neal Pert, not Dave Grohl. I want that guy who plays on the "Hey Oh" song by the Big Wet Spicy Peppers. I liked that one. It reminds me of last year when that song came out."

"I make instructional drum videos. No, really."

SOOOOOO...with that one guy who looks like that other funny guy banging on the skins, I present you, the wonderfully lucky readers of Blood Pile, with your BRAND. NEW. AMERICAN. LED. ZEPPELIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

CHICKEN FOOT!

I hate. I die.

Apparently I need to be banned from the internet because everything I type on here seems to piss someone off. I'd get mad at myself, but then I think you'd have to be crazy to take anything seriously around here. There's a guy eating a giant cheeseburger up there. Come on. My life is a horrible dick joke. Don't you get it?

The Fitzner's Memorial Day bbq was great, Alex and I saw Indiana Jones today, and I am now completely SPENT in the cash department. There is no reason for this selfish, boring, vapid post other than to let you know that I am still alive.

Joy and I have decided to just be friends. You should join us in this friendly conquest.

Mookie is coming back wednesday and bringing Baxter to sleep on my couch?! Major rager on the four-string motherfucker.

5/19/08 Dark Ages/INVASION/Death and Flowers

The Dark Ages/Invasion/Death and Flowers show at the Haunted Kitchen last night was a spectacular time. The show was cut a little short because BFMC had to cancel. Dark Ages' sound is becoming more and more efficiently chaotic every time I see them. Their new record is out and they are currently enjoying their status as the best punk/hardcore band in the city. After their 20 minute set the dudes began breaking down their stuff to make way for Barcelona's INVASION. I'm glad the only hype I heard about this band was from George Magers 30 seconds before they started - "this band's tight, son, f'realz." Someone had the amazingly great idea to put an insane amount of delay and reverb on the singer's mic. It sounded fantastic over the blistering d-beat which the four piece band pounded out. These dudes were very energetic and very good. There was a lot of excitement from the crowd as well, demanding 2 encores. The second one didn't happen, but at least we tried. I must confess that I spent my time talking to people upstairs during Death and Flowers but I can say they did not sound anything like I expected them to sound. Upstairs, Brett Ray declared his love/hate for Madonna (she is the BANE of his existence). That was pretty funny. All in all, it was a great night - despite the voyeurism and vomit I was exposed to later.

tie one on

Imminent Death:
www.myspace.com/imminentdeathkc

The profile is a work in progress. Turns out, avoiding lame nu-metal-ass myspace backgrounds is harder than we thought. There are two songs up there. Both are pretty much done. You should let us know what you think. We are opening for Dark Ages at the Anchor for their 7" release show this friday! Sucked Dry is also playing that show. I will have more writing up here soon!

boy grasps girl part 1

You're never sorry until it's too late. Bobby cradled his brand new baby sister in his arms. Two weeks old, healthy, home from the hospital and nursing, she seemed peaceful here in her new room. Bobby held her close and danced her around the crib, singing "Angie" - her namesake. Every so often he paused to show her the carousel dangling above the crib. "Look, Angie," he said, pointing her arm at Mickey Mouse, "this little mouse is a racist. Do you know what a racist is?" Angie spit bubbles and thrashed her arms wildly, smiling at Bobby with innocent brown eyes. "That's right, of course you do," he said, lying her down in her crib. He smiled and closed the door softly behind him.

Out in the hallway, Bobby slumped to the carpeted floor. Glancing up at the papered walls he saw family photos- his father decked out in his brand new powder-blue tuxedo, the one he bought just before he got the job in Tuscon; his mother serving Sunday brunch to Bobby and his sister, Louise; his first car- the Chrysler LeBaron that ended up in a tree later that summer. Bobby wrung his wrists and gazed down at his ever-expanding gut. "Where the hell is Dad?"

In the fall of 1988, George Hallbrook would not shut up about his new gun. "She's a beaut, Bobby. A 12-gauge Smith & Wesson shot gun with cherry wood. We're going hunting!" Rushing home from his realty office, he would bound through the door, his hulking frame creaking the floorboards. As he loosened his tie, tiny beads of sweat would drip down his nose, onto his neck and under his yellow shirt collar. "There she is," he would say, fixating on the shot gun prominently displayed above the mantle, "What a beaut." Crossing in front of Bobby and Louise, who sat calm and ignored on the couch watching television, George would practically kneel at the foot of his weapon. He liked to spend his afternoons walking around the house with the shot gun in his hand. Bobby and Louise would occasionally distract themselves from America's Funniest Videos long enough to catch George cleaning the fine china in his boxer shorts and under-shirt at the dining room table. George's solid grip on his new toy held steadfast as he tried to balance the plates on his knee and scrub them with a dish cloth. The kids would crack a dry smile and turn back to Bob Saget at every plate that was broken. George seemed equally surprised and annoyed that his cleaning system never seemed to work out. "Dad, maybe try it without the gun?" Bobby said after the sixth plate was broken. "Huh?" George's head darted up, his eyes invisible from the chandelier's glare on his wire-rimmed glasses, "Oh-" he said, gazing at the shot gun, "She sure is a beaut."

muscle

I've started doing push-ups and sit-ups every morning again. I'm starting off small because I haven't done them every day since high school. It helps a lot to just jump out of bed and do something physical, even though I'm all groggy and junk. I did 15 of each today, I'll do 25 of each tomorrow, 35 the next day, and then 50 of each the next. Exercise is pretty cool if you have the time and patience for that crap. Running would be the ultimate exercise for me (it's in my genes!) but it is also the most time-consuming and exhausting to do correctly. If I ran, I would want to run at least 5 miles a day twice a week. That wouldn't take that much time, I guess, but it would be hard for me to run on a day when I had been working. I'm making a rule for summer too- read at least 3 books a month and write something every day whether it be in journal or blog form. We'll see how it goes- I can get pretty lazy in the summer, and there's always lots of other stuff going on to distract me.

Lauren is coming in town tomorrow, my sister is graduating from UMKC on saturday, and I am going to be broke for all of it. Spain was 'spensive. Not having money has never stopped me from having fun before, though, and I guess I'm getting used to it. In two weeks I will have worked at Habitat for one year. I've never had a job for this long, so I guess that's saying something. I did work at Pizzaria Uno three different times in three years, but that's because they're dumb and I rule, so it doesn't really count. Suckers.

fatter, sappier, more seductive

I feel sort of weird about posting that thing about Brad. His wife read it and I guess, in hindsight, I didn't exactly paint him in a good light. Not that she was upset or anything. I can say it was honest, though. I've been posting a lot of sub-par crap on here lately. I've had no time to write, and I feel my blog has suffered.

I want 500 more dollars than I have right now. $300 would get me through. Where's my check you fucking redneck war-monger? What if George W. Bush isn't really a real person at all? What if Ross Perot just skinned George H. W. Bush and has been wearing him as a human-suit forever? Think about it! I bet there's no one (please don't prove my delusional daydreams wrong, it infuriates me) who can put Ross Perot and the two George Bush's in the same room at the same time. By day, the mild-mannered Ross Perot (who resides in TEXAS- HELLOOOO) poses as a billionaire and claims support for Mit Romney (a clever ruse to hide his secret identity). However, once the Bush Signal (silhoette of Yosemite Sam) is activated Perot will descend into the Bush Cave hidden underneath his Estate (now with a KFC!), release his wrinkly old suit from it's cryogenic chamber and fly into the night to eat a hot dog or play some golf like a jackass. America is running out of heroes. Ross Perot knows this. Ross Perot feels for the American people. He understands that we would never elect an aging, maniacal, big-eared Texan with lots of 'ideas' about 'oil,' so he skinned some other Texan and posed as a slightly younger, maniacal, big-eared Texan and WON TWO TERMS IN A ROW!!!! Perot's running this shit, man. I wouldn't be suprised if Barack Obama was just Perot with a Tiger Woods suit on. 'Never trust politicians, man, they're just old guys wearing younger guys' faces' - THAT'S WHAT THAT OLD GUY AT BUZZARD BEACH TOLD ME. I didn't believe him at first, but then I swore I saw Ross Perot driving the Oscar Meyer Weiner Mobile around, struggling to fit inside what I thought was a trash bag, but what actually turned out to be H.W.'s epidermis. Trust me, the truth is out there. Just remember, if there is ever fictional war that must be created, or a press conference to ruin, or a red telephone that must be answered, Perot will always be there- masked as whomever big, dumb America will elect.

Serpent-no-mor(e)

We've decided to change our name to Imminent Death. Grim, I know, but it also slays. We'll release a 6 or 7 song demo this summer and start playing shows regularly around that time. I can't wait for everyone to hear our sick tracks. I'm very proud of what we have so far. I'm in the process of writing 6 guitar solos right now and it's incredibly challenging but also fun. Music is the best thing in the world. Ever.