711 lines
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711 lines
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Plaintext
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IN A FREE LAND #1
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(formerly ALL? NO! ALL!!/ANA)
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An Experiment in Free Speech Gone Horribly Right
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10/3/93 - 12/13/93
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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Distribution:
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This E-zine and all information within is (c) 1993 Rageboy
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Publications, unless otherwise stated. Feel free to quote
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portions, but please give credit where credit is due.
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This E-zine can be found as IAFL.00x (x being the issue number).
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If this file arrives at your domain by any other name, someone
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fucked with that file bigtime.
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*** IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER! ***
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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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The editors of and contributors to IN A FREE LAND will NOT be held
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responsible for any misuse of the information within any issue of this
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E-zine. All articles are intended for an INFORMATIONAL or HUMOROUS
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purpose solely.
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Staff of I.A.F.L:
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Matt Shaw - chief editor/contributor
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Netrunner - asst. editor/contributor
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Neuromancer - Indianapolis correspondant
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Contributors:
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Q-Man - "Milo Aukerman's Corner"
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Jeff Hell - various
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-----------------
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Table of Contents
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-----------------
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1.01 .......... Welcome To Our Show/Editorial (MS)
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1.02 .......... Uncle Frank's Neighborhood (JH)
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1.03 .......... Slam List (Everyone)
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1.04 .......... White Punks on Punk - Music and Video releases (compiled by MS)
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1.05 .......... Fuck School (JH)
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1.06 .......... Clinton and The Music Underground (JH/MS)
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1.07 .......... Cooking With Joe (A Review) (MS)
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1.08 .......... The Day Punk Rock Came To Parnellville: Part I of a
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Series (MS)
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1.09 .......... A Short List Of Things That Are Wrong With The World (JH)
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1.10 .......... The Wit and Wisdom of My Cat (MS)
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1.11 .......... Waiting For The Phone To Ring (MS)
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1.12 .......... The Library (MS)
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1.13 .......... Milo Aukerman's Corner (Q-Man)
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1.14 .......... Why You Should Never Join A Cult (Or Call the Home Shopping
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Network) (JH)
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1.15 .......... Why? (MS)
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1.16 .......... Piss Off/Well, G'Night, Everybody! (MS)
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--------------------------------------
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1.01 Welcome To Our Show/Editorial
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--------------------------------------
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Hi, everybody. Welcome to the 1st issue of IN A FREE LAND,
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formerly called ALL? NO! ALL!!, or ANA for abbreviation purposes.
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The name change came about when I heard of a fascist newsletter
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that used the "ANA" name. Seeking both to make a statement about
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my displeasure about such things, as well to find a new, cool name
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for the mag, I picked the title of one of my favorite Husker
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songs. Well, aside from that, I should probably get to work
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talking about things that have no relation to the rest of the
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issue:
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When I was in high school (no, I'm not ranting about that again,
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that's Jeff's job this issue), there was this guy who was an
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artist and who everybody thought was cool, etc. Why did everyone
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think Artboy was cool? Because he drove a BMW and his grandmother
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had shitloads of $$, that's why. He made it a point to ignore
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people he believed were "lower" than him, and then had the sheer
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balls to lie and say he treated everyone equally. I just tried to
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get along with everybody, which I did, for the most part.
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My point of dredging all this shit up is to say that if you're
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like Artboy was/is, you might as well go put a gun to your head
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and pull the trigger, because you'll never be a productive member
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of our society. If you can't get along with people outside your
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little clique, you're useless to me and to any employer who's
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offering a steady job of any worth.
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That's today's lesson, kids, thrive on it. Go out and insult an
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ego maniac today! (I suggest starting with Paul Westerberg.)
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-----------------------------------
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1.02 Frank Black's Neighborhood
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-----------------------------------
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"Hey, kids!"
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"HEY, UNCLE FRANK!"
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"Today, I have a special treat for you, kids! I'm going to sing a
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song from my album!"
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"ECH.."
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<Frank extends his middle finger at the kids, then starts playing
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"I Heard Ramona Sing">
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"Not so fast, Black!" <Kim Deal steps out of the wings, Frank
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collapses like a sack of bricks to the floor, but the music keeps
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playing. Hmm..>
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"Ah-hah! Now I finally have you right where I want you.. on the
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verge of DEATH! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" <The other 3
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Breeders step out of nowhere and tie Frank up, the scene changes
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to:>
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<A Studio: The studio is empty, except for Frank hanging upside
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down from the ceiling>
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"Ah, shit."
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<Meanwhile, back on the show, Kim Deal is lecturing the kids>
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"Anyway.. I feel bad for the hip-hop thing that 'Cannonball' has,
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because we're stealing that aspect of black culture from its
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originators."
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<The kids are asleep! The Breeders have done away with Frank
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Black! Can anything be done?>
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<No, I guess not. I guess this bullshit ends here, too..>
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------------------
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1.03 Slam List
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------------------
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Scorn, hate, spit upon, curse. These things, that is:
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* Teenybopper BBSes run by 13-16 year olds who think they're hot
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shit (in our area, at least)
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* My old high school
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* church
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* The recent morality attack America has suffered (import porn is
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the way to go..)
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* Paul Westerberg
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* Top 40 Radio
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* Whoever the dumbass was who claimed that Kurt Cobain was on the
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same level as Darby Crash
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* Frank Black
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* The 90's, because it already looks like this decade is going to
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fellate donkeys
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* Anyone who calls the '90s "The Grunge Generation" because there's
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too goddamn many people who want no part of being called that
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* Major labels, because they're fucking killing the industry
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* Neanderthal men who had nightmares that they were playing the
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Brad Pitt role in "Thelma And Louise"
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* Madonna, because she's pretty much showed all she can show and it
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ain't getting any better
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----------------------------
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1.04 White Punks On Punk
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----------------------------
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We reserve the right to review things old AND new. New to us, in
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our minds = new to you, as well.
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Music:
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_Strong Reaction_ - Pegboy (MS)
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--------------------------
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All I knew when I got this was that there was an ex-Naked Raygun
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guitarist in this band. I found out, after listening to it, that
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it's a hell of a great album. The title track, which kicks it
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off, has an awesome mix that basically makes it all very very
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LOUD. (Nods to Iain Burgess.) "Strong Reaction" and "Field Of
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Darkness" were my favorite tracks from this one, mainly because of
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their somewhat traditional 'core sound. "Field of Darkness" was
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slightly different.. kind of like the Clash meets Big Black and
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manages to make the song sound mostly like them. (Does that make
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ANY fucking sense?)
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Advice: Play it LOUD, as all good hardcore is meant to be
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played.
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(The CD also contains the _Three Chord Monte_ EP.)
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- 1/4 Stick Records/Touch-N-Go
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_Last Splash_ - The Breeders (MS)
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----------------------------
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I could spend the entire review raving about how beautiful the
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Deal sisters are. I could easily do that, but what would be the
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point of this being an album review rather than a text version of
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toned-down locker room conversation? So, here goes..
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The sound of the album is a lot more refined than the stark,
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basic sound that greeted _Pod_'s listeners in 1990, yet manages
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to add an all-around "hey-we're-in-the-studio-let's-party"
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atmosphere, evidenced by the (overplayed) single/video
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"Cannonball". (I really didn't notice the "hey now" during the
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"in the shade" part, is what's sad.)
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Seems like the group's tighter now than on _Pod_, since Tanya
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Donnelly left to go form Belly and Shannon Doughton left
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(presumably to go back to Slint.. hell, I dunno). Doughton was
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replaced by Jim MacPherson, nicked from a Dayton band by Kim Deal,
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and Tanya was replaced by Kelley Deal, who (as if this hasn't been
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overstated by many a shocked MTV/Rolling Stone pawn) had no
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idea how to play guitar when she joined for the _Safari_ EP (which
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is out of print last I checked and which I keep forgetting to buy
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when I'm in Indy).
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In my own personal opinion, this is a hell of an album. Don't
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let the fact that Kurt Cobain likes the band sour you on them,
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if you're not a big fan of Nirvana (or Kurt himself, for that
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matter.)
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- 4AD/Elektra
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_Red_ - King Crimson (MS)
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--------------------
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Okay, so I'm about 19 years late in reviewing this one. I just
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discovered this group two months ago, give me a break.
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Anyway. King Crimson went through about five lineup changes
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(give or take) before they reached the _Red_ lineup, that of Robert
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Fripp (guitar), John Wetton (bass, vocals), and Bill Bruford
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(drums, percussion). This incarnation is, and always will be, my
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personal favorite. Only the early '80's version comes close, but
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only because I think Adrian Belew is cool.
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The title track is the album's opener, a complex
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progressive/metal instrumental in some weird guitar tuning that no
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one I know can figure out. But, IMO, the best track on the album
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is "One More Red Nightmare", with occasionally indecipherable
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lyrics, and some interesting percussion.
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In summary, if you can find it, get your hands on it and don't
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ever let go. Something else that's fun to do is try to find
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Fripp's pre-Crimson album, _The Cheerful Insanity of Giles, Giles,
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and Fripp_, and listen to it, then listen to _Red_. Those who
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have heard both will understand the humor of my suggestion.
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- EG Records (orig. Atlantic)
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--------------------
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1.05 Fuck School
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--------------------
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There comes a time in the life of every student when they must
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say, "Fuck school!" Perhaps such an event is a direct result of
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being taunted beyond human endurance, as in the case of Rodney
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Flarg, from Backwoods, IN:
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"One day, as I was walking to class, this group of jocks ganged up
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on me and forced me to worship their stinky shoes. So I decided
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I'd had enough, and jumped the leader and beat the crap out of
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him.. I can say 'crap', can't I? And the school suspended ME, for
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fighting. So, I had to say.. 'F--.. er, SCREW school!"
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Uh, yeah, Rodney.. cut down on the caffeine pills. In another
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case, that of Monkey-Face (a pseudonym; real name withheld by
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demand), also of Backwoods, grades can be a real problem:
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"Me no smart. Me no get good grades. Me eat schoolbooks; only
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Home Ec book taste good. Wonder why."
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Down, Mongo.
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Our final example is that of Joe, of that famous Backwoods TV
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program, "Cooking With Joe", who succinctly summarizes his point:
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"Getting up every day and dragging your ass to school is a real
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fucking drag."
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We hope that these examples have given you the courage to simply
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stand up and say, "FUCK SCHOOL!"
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------------------------------------------
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1.06 Clinton and the Music Underground
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------------------------------------------
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By 1996, by our prediction, the only music allowed to be played in
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the United States will be saxophone music, reflecting His
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Cluelessness's affinity for the somewhat phallic instrument. In
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some circles, it is said that playing the sax is the only thing
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Clinton can do without his wife or a friendly Cabinet member
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pulling his strings, but this is far from relevant to the current
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point.
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By such a decree, major corporate machines will be put to pasture,
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and only the independent labels will survive.. albeit illegally.
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Imagine this: a world in which you have to go to an "album
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pusher" to get the newest Bad Religion or Spooners album. If this
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thought in itself is not frightening enough, consider the decreed
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punishment for only BUYING the music: locked in a room in the
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White House and being forced to listen to Bill's saxophone
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playing, fully coherently, 24 hours a day. Such a torture would
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quickly make a sane man into a babbling, mindless fool.
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Frightened? Scared? Guilty because you voted for him? One way
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to repair it now: Impeach the fucker. Say it loud and proud (but
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without a gun in your hand, because then they'll have an excuse to
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arrest you): IMPEACH THE FUCKER.
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Thank you, and good remainder of term.
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------------------------------------
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1.07 Cooking With Joe (A Review)
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------------------------------------
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Well, this popular Backwoods cooking show sure brings out the
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usual sense of watching two guys fuck around in a kitchen, making
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a mess, and being entirely too camera-conscious. This, of course,
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is the show's appeal. Joe and Bill's apparent fear of the camera
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make for some wild moments, as their notably halted motions cause
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all kinds of trouble for the stalwart pair.
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Joe and Bill seem to spend every week's show trying to make toast.
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When, at the end, the finished product is brought out, it's
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declared either too light or too burned to be proper toast.
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Occasionally, there will be the perfect toast, but Joe will move
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haltedly toward Bill, grab the toast out of his hand, and take a
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huge bite out of it, and smile at the camera, shakily.
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Why simply toast? We may never know. Why never right? Joe and
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Bill are a dying breed; Joe and Bill are culinary perfectionists.
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No wonder Joe takes such a bite out of the "right" toast on the
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rare occasions it is made.. he has earned it. For that matter, so
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has Bill, who restrains himself. May this country one day
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recognize the value of these two men, and may it repay them for
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their toasty contributions!
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--------------------------------------------------------------------
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1.08 The Day Punk Rock Came to Parnellville (Part I of a Series)
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--------------------------------------------------------------------
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(fiction by Matt Shaw)
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My cousin Tony had always been a rather unassuming type. In
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school, he never got called on; seemed like the teachers just kind
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of forgot he was there. So did the students, fortunately for
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Tony. If the tougher types had realized the existence of a human
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such as Tony, they would have instantly fell upon him like a pack
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of really stupid lions.
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At home, he had to remind his parents of the fact that he lived
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there. I remember one Thanksgiving that Aunt Vicky looked at
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Tony, her own son, and said, "Excuse me, are you lost?" I had had
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to remind Aunt Vicky that time. Usually, Tony was able to
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convince them well enough, and usually, Uncle Tim would accuse
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Aunt Vicky of fooling around with the milkman, because, as he
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would say, "the kid sure ain't mine!" Uncle Tim usually had a
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bottle of Corona in each hand when he began these rants.
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Finally, after about 16 years of being nearly invisible, Tony
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couldn't contain himself any longer, and exploded one night.
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"Look, you stupid hicks," he yelled at Aunt Vicky and Uncle Tim,
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"I refuse to be invisible any more. I'm going to do something,
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and it's going to be soon. Something that will make sure no one
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will EVER forget me again." And he stormed out of the house.
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Uncle Tim looked at Aunt Vicky, and said, "Who the hell was that?"
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Aunt Vicky looked up and said, "Who, dear?" Uncle Tim just shook
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his head.
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Somewhere, right now, in some collector's glass case, there sits a
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Fender Jaguar, one of the world's.. weirdest guitars. I hear that
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the annoying guy from that Nirvana band plays one now, or
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something to that effect. Anyway, years ago, Tony went to buy
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himself a guitar, and brought one home.. the Jaguar. With a cheap
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$20 amp that kept going out until he replaced a fuse, he annoyed
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his parents and siblings with his practices. "Noise," declared
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Uncle Tim, darkly. "Noise, endless noise."
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If the noise from Tony alone drove Uncle Tim up the wall, his next
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step must have nearly driven them insane. Tony formed a band,
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with two of his friends, who played their first gig outside Uncle
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Tim's barn.
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General alarm and consternation was our reaction.
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One killer hot day in August, Tony, Billy Barris, and Tommy Joe
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Davis plunked down a drum set, two amps, and a microphone stand
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outside the rundown old barn. It took awhile to set up (they had
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to get extension cords - Billy had been in charge of getting them,
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and Billy wasn't precisely the brightest light on the Christmas
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tree), but around noon, they began to play, and Parnellville
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changed forever.
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Punk rock had come to Parnellville.
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The next day, in the Parnellville Cafe, Buford T. Jefferson said,
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"I asked the Barris boy what they were doing - he said, 'We're
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jamming econo!'" We heard this and shivered at the use of this
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sinister-sounding phrase.
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This punk thing had to be stopped, everyone said. This was a
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small Alabama town, and punk rock was not meant to invade God's
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country, everyone said. Yet there was, as there always is, a
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faction that disagreed with this thinking. Tony's group (called
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the Fairy Godfathers) had gained popularity with the teens in
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Parnellville. Sally Williams had a kid a while after the
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Godfathers' first appearance at Parnellville High School, and
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named the child Tony. The significance was obvious; the child had
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been conceived at that legendary first PHS show. Tony (my cousin)
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had been asked to be the child's godfather, and he readily
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accepted.
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The town's ultimate authority caught wind of all this, about a
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year after it had started, and he left his office for the first
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time since the previous election. This authority was Rufus J.
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Parnell III, town Mayor and direct descendant of Rufus J. Parnell
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I, who founded Parnellville a century before. His official
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statement was "No more punk rock." His off-the-record statement
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was "Get that shit out of my town!" according to Mary Lou Bagley,
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who was Parnell's secretary.
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As a result of this statement, punk rock and any references to it
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were outlawed in Parnellville. Anyone mentioning the Fairy
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Godfathers were to be arrested, and the Godfathers themselves were
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barred from playing any more shows. Tony's past anonymity was
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gone forever, and there were days that Tony wished he'd never left
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the cover of his invisibility.
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Yet after three months of being outlawed, Tony, Billy, and Tommy
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Joe remembered the core of the punk rock ethic, that being
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rebellion, and began to play shows again -- underground. Quite
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literally underground; most of the shows were in friend's
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basements, while their parents were gone.
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The Godfathers' fans devised a new way to express their devotion
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to their band of choice: the fan would cough sharply, three times
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in a row, when they felt like letting the world know that the
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Fairy Godfathers were still alive and well in the Hooper family
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basement.
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Soon, however, the Godfathers' resentment of Parnell's decree went
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outside of the boundaries of the literal underground. Tony's band
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made their last stand outside Uncle Tim's barn, in an ironic
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reference to their first show; Tony and the rest of the teenage
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populace of Parnellville pretty much knew that this would be their
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last show.
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Of course, the police department and town hall caught wind of the
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show about 10 minutes after it started, and Mayor Parnell rode
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down to Uncle Tim and Aunt Vicky's house in Patrolman Buck's car.
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Once there, the Godfathers' renowned "wall of sound" nearly
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deafened both the Mayor and the patrolman, as well as the other
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police officers that had accompanied the Mayor on his mission.
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Somehow, though, the Mayor and his blue-clad entourage made their
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way up to the stage, where two patrolmen unplugged the six-bar
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from the extension cord, leaving only Billy bashing away at the
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drums until he realized he could no longer hear Tommy Joe's
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thudding bass lines or Tony's relentless guitar and vocal
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screeching.
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Once Billy stopped, the Mayor spoke up. "By the power vested in
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me by the last election, I'm placing you under arrest for
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violating the Anti-Punk Law of Parnellville. Buck, take them
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away." As the cuffs went on, first on Tony, and then on the other
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two Godfathers, the crowd dispersed, with occasional screams of
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"Fascist pigs!" and "We're behind you all the way, Tony!"
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|
|
The Godfathers' equipment was confiscated by Parnellville police,
|
|
and each member spent 60 days in the town jail, located within the
|
|
scenic police HQ. Once released, the trio left for another town,
|
|
to buy newer, better equipment, and were never heard from again,
|
|
in Parnellville at least.
|
|
|
|
One day, however, young Tony Williams, who kept his mother's last
|
|
name, claimed that the previous night, he had heard a station come
|
|
in from Birmingham, playing a punk song, which had a very familiar
|
|
"wall of sound" effect to it, as well as a very familiar screaming
|
|
voice hollering the lyrics. He didn't catch their name, but he's
|
|
sure that somewhere, somehow, the Fairy Godfathers still exist.
|
|
|
|
As for me? Some days, I get to remembering. And when the
|
|
nostalgia strikes me, all I have to do is cough sharply, three
|
|
times in a row, and it's like I'm living back in those days,
|
|
when Tony was larger than life, and I was Sally Williams'
|
|
boyfriend. Other days, I don't need to get nostalgic; I look at
|
|
my son, the son Sally and I conceived while Billy Barris bashed
|
|
his drums, Tommy Joe plodded along on bass, and my cousin Tony, my
|
|
best friend, made himself unforgettable at Parnellville High. I
|
|
look at my son, and I remember.
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|
|
|
|
|
Copyright (C) by Matt Shaw
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|
|
-------------------------------------------------------------
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|
1.09 A Short List Of Things That Are Wrong With The World
|
|
-------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
Everything but a few things.
|
|
Almost everything.
|
|
Not quite everything.
|
|
Wayne Newton.
|
|
Paul Westerberg.
|
|
Nirvana.
|
|
Articles that nearly duplicate the Slam List just for a cheap
|
|
joke.
|
|
|
|
-------------------------------------
|
|
1.10 The Wit and Wisdom of My Cat
|
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-------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
I find that, looking back, my cat has always been one of the
|
|
greatest philosophers of our time. I remember sitting one day in my
|
|
kitchen, staring dejectedly at a picture of an ex-girlfriend, when
|
|
Arch would come up to me, rub against my leg, and purr loudly.
|
|
When I looked down to see what he wanted, he would look up at me
|
|
and say, simply:
|
|
|
|
"Meow."
|
|
|
|
And I would be consoled, for Arch was well-used to loss, himself.
|
|
Arch lost his mother when he was 7. Although for a cat, this is
|
|
advanced age, he was still despondent. (His mother, Kit, was
|
|
about 9 or 10, so it was kind of natural, I suppose.) Even in the
|
|
depths of his own mire of depression, Arch would still influence
|
|
my life's decisions. When I was choosing what college to go to, I
|
|
had narrowed it down to two choices, and I asked Arch what he
|
|
thought, and he replied:
|
|
|
|
"Meow."
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|
|
|
Arch's response immediately illuminated some darkened corridor in
|
|
my mind, and I made my decision, knowing that the beneficial
|
|
wisdom of my cat, Arch, had guided me to make the right choice. I
|
|
would later credit all my scholarly success to Arch's guidance,
|
|
and would regret that he didn't get more recognition as a result
|
|
of my support.
|
|
|
|
Another situation in which Arch proved to be helpful was when I
|
|
fell on my ass one day, trying to run across a freshly waxed floor
|
|
wearing socks, rather than shoes. As I attempted to regain my
|
|
previous position of being upright, Arch's wit reached my ears
|
|
from the opposite end of the room:
|
|
|
|
"Meow."
|
|
|
|
After Arch gave me his opinion, he turned and walked away,
|
|
possibly in search of some Kit and Kaboodle. I felt that I was a
|
|
better human being for hearing Arch's say on the subject, and I
|
|
felt less foolish and resolved to never run across a freshly waxed
|
|
floor again, unless I was wearing cleats.
|
|
|
|
Daily I give thanks to whatever powers may govern our affairs, for
|
|
giving me this furry philosopher whose knowledge and experience
|
|
offers such a wide range of things to learn. So, I will take my
|
|
leave, leaving behind some of Arch's wisdom for you. I'm not as
|
|
good as he is at being a philosopher, but I hope that you'll at
|
|
least get my point:
|
|
|
|
"Meow."
|
|
|
|
|
|
--------------------------------------
|
|
1.11 Waiting For The Phone To Ring
|
|
--------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
Some nights I sit, entranced by the words and phrases, and
|
|
eventually, sentences and paragraphs that form upon my screen, and
|
|
realize it's all just a diversion to keep me from waiting for the
|
|
phone to ring. Then, I stop, and simply wait for the phone to
|
|
ring, thinking, "Hey, this could be Net, this could be one of the
|
|
Kids in the Hall, or maybe it's God Himself."
|
|
|
|
But then I wonder, why would God call me? I mean, He can just
|
|
connect with me telepathically, or something, right? And Net's
|
|
not even here, anymore. And the Kids in the Hall? They're in
|
|
Canada. Why would they call here? Eh?
|
|
|
|
Oh, I don't know. But one day, the phone may ring. Just maybe.
|
|
And maybe it'll be one of those people. Just maybe.
|
|
|
|
(I know this article made no sense. Nod your head and smile, and
|
|
go onward..)
|
|
|
|
|
|
--------------------
|
|
1.12 The Library
|
|
--------------------
|
|
|
|
Too many teenagers today, driven insane by the lack of any place
|
|
to go to hang out, end up going on shooting sprees and destroying
|
|
half of their town. I think there's something we can all do about
|
|
this: extend the library's hours to about midnight, and invite all
|
|
the kids in from the city and surrounding towns. Think about it:
|
|
the library becomes the city's cool new hangout, boosting reading
|
|
levels citywide.
|
|
|
|
But, then, the other downtown buildings will want to compete. The
|
|
banks will start offering their waiting areas to the kids; that
|
|
barber shop on the corner will be chock full of teenagers making
|
|
fun of their friends, who are getting their hair cut; the music
|
|
stores will let everyone come in and have a big ol' jam; and the
|
|
bookstores will start selling more import porn, and put down
|
|
chairs all over the store for everyone to sit in.
|
|
|
|
Then the competition would extend outside of the downtown area,
|
|
and the places the teens once frequented will be deserted.
|
|
Noticing their flagging business, they will start a huge
|
|
advertising campaign to get the kids back in, which would probably
|
|
succeed. Then it would be downtown v. Wendy's until the end of
|
|
our society.
|
|
|
|
Just think, man. We could start a revolution and no one would
|
|
care.. too busy running from the library to McDonald's and back.
|
|
But what would we revolt about? I say that we revolt to build a
|
|
new KFC. But that's just my opinion.
|
|
|
|
-------------------------------
|
|
1.13 Milo Aukerman's Corner
|
|
-------------------------------
|
|
|
|
Dear IN A FREE LAND Readers,
|
|
|
|
Nice name change, Matt, you asshole. [Thanks. - ed.]
|
|
|
|
Living in Backwoods, IN, this week, staying at Miss Ellie's
|
|
Boarding House. Thanks to Miss Ellie for making me feel at home.
|
|
Next week, I'm leaving for Asia. Not the band, the continent.
|
|
|
|
Backwoods isn't too bad of a place, if you ignore that bullshit
|
|
about the guy that drank all those beers in one sitting. He's
|
|
like a legend around here, or something, but he just looks drunk
|
|
to me. Some of the racier stories say that he pisses like a
|
|
racehorse. Hell, if I'd had fifty-something beers in one sitting,
|
|
I'd be pissing until the Judgment Day, so I can't blame him.
|
|
|
|
Bought ALL's _Breaking Things_, and got slightly pissed off at
|
|
Bill and everybody all over again for getting a new vocalist.
|
|
But I can't complain.. I sing backing vocals on a song or two. I
|
|
still think they should have kept Scott Reynolds [No kidding. -
|
|
ed.].
|
|
|
|
There's no DQ out here, so I had to miss seeing any more action
|
|
like what I did in Westfield.
|
|
|
|
Actually, it's fucking boring in Backwoods. How the hell can
|
|
these people stand to live here? I'll have a more exciting letter
|
|
next issue, guaranteed.
|
|
|
|
Later!
|
|
Milo
|
|
|
|
-----------------------------------------
|
|
1.14 Why You Should Never Join a Cult
|
|
-----------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
1. Chanting non-stop will give you a sore throat.
|
|
2. Those damn dues that they make you pay (Swaggart/Tipton cults
|
|
only).
|
|
3. It's no picnic (for you, at least) getting out if you get bored.
|
|
4. Unexplained loss of pets will break the kids' hearts.
|
|
5. Unexplained loss of kids will break your spouse's heart.
|
|
6. They force you to make lists like these. [Thanks, Jeff. - ed.]
|
|
|
|
-------------
|
|
1.15 Why?
|
|
-------------
|
|
|
|
Every issue has it's "Why?" section. Every issue will. This
|
|
issue's question is:
|
|
|
|
Q: Why do people think grunge is punk?
|
|
|
|
A: (Matt Shaw) Grunge has some of the attitude of hardcore/punk,
|
|
but is more commercialized. When's the last time you saw Jello
|
|
Biafra advocating major labels? Artist-owned is the way to go.
|
|
Before anyone can shove Sub-Pop down my throat, most grunge
|
|
acts have gone to major labels, leaving Sub-Pop a well-known
|
|
independent with nearly the level of popularity as SST/Cruz,
|
|
supporting more and more non-grunge acts.
|
|
The major problem with grunge is that it's treated more like
|
|
fashion than like music. Top 40 stations are playing grunge;
|
|
in fact, the first time I heard Nirvana was when I was being
|
|
forced to listen to a local Top 40 station. Top 40 stations
|
|
would be offended by and scared of real HC/punk. I like Pearl
|
|
Jam's music, but I'm not a voracious fan, and it's kind of a
|
|
pity that all these high school kids who play football and
|
|
don't know what the fuck alienation is like pick up a Pearl Jam
|
|
album, listen to the songs, and actually think they can relate
|
|
to Eddie Vedder's lyrics. All I'm saying is leave the music of
|
|
punk/hardcore/alternative where it should be: off MTV and Top
|
|
40 stations. Give alt rock back to the real alternative; give
|
|
it back to the underground.
|
|
|
|
-------------------------------------------
|
|
1.16 Piss Off/Well, G'Night, Everybody!
|
|
-------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
We've reached the end of our sojourn into Backwoods underground
|
|
culture. Go and spread the word of our gospel; tell all you meet
|
|
on the Net about reading (and living) IN A FREE LAND.
|
|
|
|
This one's been a blast!
|
|
|
|
- Matt
|
|
|
|
|
|
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
"Dope smokin' moron.. don't make me yawn."
|
|
- The Replacements, 1982
|
|
|
|
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
|