The Channels of Mars

Life is a treacherous place to live; full of angst, regret, love, loss, sordid anger and lust, jealousy, and wandering minstrels. I shouldn't say that the latter are the most dangerous, but that would be a lie; a good minstrel contains all of those emotions. Minstrels make for the best lovers, and the worst break ups. There's just so much romantic potential there! But don't be fooled... don't be fooled. Every rose has its thorn, and every minstrel his secret. Who knows where his mandolin has been!? Down in the pasture with the pretty little maid? Minstrels are as deceptive as a planet with a zealous astronomer at the helm of a cloudy telescope. Channels made by intelligent life are discovered to be barren and lifeless -- promises made by minstrels are discovered to be lies of the little white variety.
Little white lies are like sperm. They impregnate a subject and begin to grow inside, and after about fourteen weeks abortions are illegal-- after that there's no turning back without a lot of heartbreak.

Those metaphors belong in a song.
Peace out.

The Late Hour

By popular request... here I am! AGAIN!
Today was an eventful but strenuous on the knee tendons day, and much flowing juices has impeded the sleeping process thus far. Washington held behemoths of monuments today, Jefferson, Washington, and Lincoln. As far as presidents go, I'd lean toward Jefferson as my favorite.
"I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man."
Now, I'm no history major, but I'd let Jefferson write some sweet song lyrics for us if I could.
Peace out. It's 2:22.

Straight from Mo-Town.

Well, although our band is not currently "together", the creative juices continue to flow. As some of you have certainly heard, we have produced a short single that is in limited release. There are several other projects on the horizon, an untitled cheesy love ballad I wrote, as well as a wicked parody on Avril Lavigne's smash hit "Girlfriend". Jesse James and Blazin' Ray have probably also come up with some smashin' tunes of their own.

"Many" "fans" have asked about what the instrumentation of our band is and what kind of genres we perform. In response to that I say we are a drum-bass-guitar-harmonica-vocal-ukulele-chain-applecore band that plays jazz, fusion, rap, folk, rock, pop, and piano classics in 4 part harmonies.

In conclusion, the final request is to all our fans who read this blog. The pickle farmers are currently looking for a logo. Ideally this would be a large fat man in a too-small wifebeater holding a pitchfork in one hand and chompin' down on a giant pickle in the other hand, however, we would appreciate all imput.

Prison Dave out.

Where Valor Rests

Arlington National Cemetery is a moving place, and should be treated with respect and honor, but tourism has cheapened the real gravity of thousands of Americans who gave their lives for the country. Some prime examples of the disrespect towards the deceases; Many, many people having photographs of them taken, smiling like idiots, in front of the memorial to John F Kennedy. Many other groups of young people from other parts of the country were acting like 12 1/2 year old boys at a Six Flags. About the pictures, I thought to myself "Do they really need pictures to remember? Do they understand the gravity?"

"Too many pictures
too little respect
not enough thought
tourism tarnishes the Silver of Arlington"

"Hundreds and hudreds
of thousands of stones
coloured in ivory
to echo the bones

Thousands and thousands
of crosses and stars
one can't help but ponder
the losses and scars"

The previous were jottings from myself at Arlington, Blazin' Ray's comp book was lost, so I decided to post my thoughts and jottings from this experience. I would like to close with a quote from the amphitheater at Arlington.

"When we assumed the soldier, we did not lay aside the citizen"

Take it easy.

Gang Bangs and Drug Rangs

Well, the area is shady all right. And it doesn't help the situation.
After a long day at Arlington National Cemetery and the various wings of the enormously large Smithsonian institution I managed to misplace my modifiers in an epic battle of life and slightly less life. That damned Air and Space museum, being so damnably damned it all interesting. Anyway, I had been dragging my modifier(by modifier I mean composition notebook) around with me all day, takin' notes about topics of great magnitude and pennin' lyrics of the utmost importance to the great plethora that is our fan base, when I was suddenly and profoundly drawn to the book store. I must have accidentally bartered off my brilliant lyrics in exchange for some little trinket during one of my periodic fits of insanity.
To top that all off, gang activity between red and blue is making it nigh impossible to get me a new one at "The Shady Lady" (our apt pseudonym for the nearby gas station).

Other than that, whenever happenstance grants you chance to check out the D.C. area, I recommend you prowl the mall and spend a full day in each of the museums. Lots of good lyrics come out of Neanderthals.
Look out for a cemetery themed song, too.
Peace out.

Here's to progress

Well, today is the second day of our long quest to D.C. in search of inspiration. Normally we would take such trips as a whole band, but regrettably our founder and drummer, Prison Dave, was unable to accompany us. Anyway, we've arrived at our first hotel after almost 25 hours of straight driving, survivable only because of intermittent rendezvous with various questionable meats of various questionable genders. The place is nice, not quite the dive you'd expect out of such a rough area, but it is shady. Very shady. Anyway, almost immediately after arrival we had a burst of creativity. Tromping down to a local shady gas station, under the protection of Doug "Bear Hands" Moe, a law enforcement officer of the highest caliber, we dropped a few Washingtons on some composition notebooks and bad-ass bandanas that just screamed mug me. Unfortunately, they were essential to the creative writing progress. We then returned to the hotel and sat indian-style above the grand parlour of our temporary housing. We made awesome lyrics. Hopefully with another such break-out session we'll have enough material to actually show you. Right now, be satisfied with a teaser: the title is "You're Invited to Tea with a Gigolo." Peace out.