A Garbage Day Saved By Wire

     This morning, I dragged my carcass into the office of my soul suck of a day job to find the temperature getting up to damn near 90 degrees.  Normally, it is a bit warm in the mornings because the AC shuts off overnight and then has to catch up but this amount of heat was way out of the ordinary and on the verge of oppressive.

     The management started calling around to get the HVAC guy on site to get the air conditioner repaired.  The management was able to find out that, apparently, the AC did not breakdown.  There was some sort of company initiative to lower electricity use so they went around and turned off the ventilation systems in unoccupied office space.

     The key terms here are “unoccupied office space.”  The company was unaware that there was an office full of people sitting in one of their own buildings.  It's nice to know that I am such a valued employee that my employer doesn't even know that I exist.

     It seems that the AC was able to be turned off remotely but could not be turned back on in the same manner.  I was sitting in my sweatbox of a cubicle with a severe swamp ass and bat wings issue going on waiting for the HVAC guy to show up to flip a switch.

     To at least get some air flowing, there was an attempt to open the windows only to find out that all of the windows had been bolted shut.  This had to be another company initiative to prevent employees from pretending that they worked in an iPhone factory and taking a flying leap.

     A couple of box fans were found somewhere in the building which led to the dunderheads that I work with arguing over which way the fans should be aimed because some of them didn't want the air blowing on them.  A compromise was made to set up the fans in such a way to ensure that relief was brought to no one.  Let me remind you that these people are adults that somehow figured out how to tie their shoes and learned how to use a doorknob in order to leave their houses.

     I swear that most of their behaviors are intended to see if today will be the day they drive me to jamming my pen into my eye.  And for those of you who have been following along, Dorf The Asshole, who has taken on the aroma of dog farts of late, was smelling extra dog farty in the excessive heat.

     Several hours later, the HVAC guy finally made an appearance, flipped the switch to turn the AC back on and nothing happened.  It seems that the remote shut off fried the whole system and he couldn't figure out how long it would be until it was up and running again.

     The management had already decreed that the company dress code would still be in effect, regardless of how long the AC is broken.  So if the air isn't back on any time in the near future, shorts and a t-shirt were still out of the question.  This was just in case we get paid a surprise visit by company muckety-mucks even though these same muckety-mucks didn't know we still worked for the company and occupied space when they decided to shut down the ventilation system.  That makes perfect sense.  Now I have to walk around with my balls tucked into my sock so they don't drag behind me because of some mythical visit from my “superiors.”

     How is this my life? Luckily, I was greeted by Wire reissues in my mailbox when I got home.  The band's first three records Pink Flag, Chairs Missing, and 154 were recently remastered and rereleased on Wire's own label.  I haven't had a chance to do the Pepsi challenge yet but so far it sounds like the mastering on Pink Flag leaves the old Four Men With Beards mastering in the dust.

Am I Getting Too Old For This?

     I ventured out of the house last Friday to see Code Orange play at Mr. Smalls.  I almost didn't make it off of the couch because I was aware of the cluster fuck of traffic that was between the venue and myself but I'm glad I went.  Not so much for the music but for the few things I learned about myself while watching the opening acts.

     I got to Mr. Smalls early enough to grab a pre-show burger and get my usual spot behind the soundboard.  I was greeted with a, “What are you doing here?  You are getting way too old for this shit,” when I ran into the house sound engineer that I went to high school with.  I tried to counter with, “Well, you're here too,” only to be swatted away with, “At least I'm getting paid to be here.”  It didn't help matters when the much younger woman that was running lights said, “I think it's cute when the older punks come out to these shows.”  That's when it sunk in that I was officially the coffin dodger in the back of the room instead of the perpetually 22 year old that's too cool for school image of myself that's been stuck in my head for the past several years.

     Just as my final thread of self-esteem had been incinerated, the stage manager came back to alert them that the start time was being pushed back by twenty minutes for some unknown reason.  At that point I'm feeling really old.  Trying to make it through four opening acts and a headliner suddenly felt like an insurmountable task and there was not a cup of coffee in the place.  Then I saw the list of run times for the bands.  Each opener had between 20 and 30 minutes.  Things were looking up or so I thought.

     I have been a fan of Code Orange since I picked up their second LP I Am King a few years back.  I had seen them open for Anti-Flag a few times and they also opened for the Black Flag reunion band, Flag.  I was impressed after seeing how they handled themselves in the up hill battle that is being the first band to go out in front of an unfriendly audience that doesn't care about the first band to hit stage. They had a very “We don't give a fuck about you” attitude and ran right through the crowd's apathy each time.

     It's been rather enjoyable to see the weird kids from the local performing arts high school, CAPA, grow into this world wide metal phenomenon.  Even though most people from Pittsburgh could give two shits about them because Code Orange isn't some sort of 90s cover band.  They're playing bigger stages and hitting the festival circuit and, more importantly, the records keep progressing and getting better and better.  Their latest, Forever, is a slab of brutality that finds its way into my ears on a regular basis.

     Their set the other night was another display of how Code Orange is evolving by leaps and bounds.  They put together an hour long audio/visual assault on the senses that felt like it could have gone off the rails at any time if it were in the hands of a lesser band.  Code Orange was in control of the mayhem every step of the way.

     At the board for the lights, there was a piece of notebook paper with lighting cues for each song in the set which included a series of convulsion inducing strobe lights all over the stage.  Just before the band came out, the sound guy turned to the lighting engineer, flipped her off, and donned a pair of sunglasses to protect himself from the coming onslaught to his rods and cones.  I suddenly wished that I had a welder's mask in my pocket.

     At one point, the bass player ended up bleeding profusely from the head but he certainly didn't let some mere flesh wound get in the way of him finishing the set while diving in and out of the crowd while still playing.  These kids mean business and after being together for ten years already they show no signs of stopping any time soon.

     The most disappointing part of the evening were the four opening acts.  They were all cut from the same stylistic cloth of the jock, bro-down hardcore band.  None of them even displayed a variation on the theme.  All four bands were indistinguishable from each other.  If this is the state of modern hardcore, then there is a lot of work to be done for it to reestablish the form and get it out of its current rut.

     Each band seemed to be more interested in posing, jumping around and flexing than they were focussed on actually playing.  Playing stop time only works when everyone stops and starts at the same time.  Maybe if the members of these bands spent less time in the gym and more time in the practice room they would sound a little better.  My disdain for jumping jacks, alone, would prevent me from being the singer in a current hardcore band.

     I couldn't even say that trading a few hours of calisthenics for a few more hours of working on lyrical content would be beneficial.  All I could hear was something along the lines of “Bark, Bark, Bark!!!”  I'm sure it could be loosely translated to “I hate my mom, I hate my Dad, why don't any girls like me” or some such silly white boy nonsense.

     I was left with a very “Back in my day...” feeling after seeing these bands.  Moments like that always remind of the Ian MacKaye quote from the documentary American Hardcore.  It was something along the lines of, “I didn't leave hardcore.  Hardcore left me.”

     The one upside after seeing these bands fall flat has been the heavy music palette cleansing I've been going through over the past few days to get the taste out of my ears.  Large doses of Eyehategod, The Fix, Turmoil, Snapcase, Helmet, Rollins Band and, of course, Code Orange.

     Maybe I'm not getting too old for this shit.  Maybe it's hardcore's stagnating lack of forward progress that can't keep up with me.

Spinal Tool?

     Three members of the band Tool recently came through Pittsburgh in what was billed as a music clinic.  Their website described this event, which was closed to the media, as an immersive dissection and performance with everyone in the band, except Maynard.  With intimate discussions taking fans behind the scenes and into the inner workings of one of “rock music's most mysterious bands.”

     For a mere $500, plus service fees and parking, those in attendance were treated to a breakdown of their writing process with a Q&A.  There was also some sort of archival exhibit on display with various items from from the band's history.

     The most bizarre aspect of this whole thing was the three separate busses and two tractor trailers that were being used to transport this tour down the road.  That is quite the large carbon footprint for something that could have been accomplished with an Econo van and a box truck.

     This tour reeks of pretense and has gotten my Spinal Tap senses tingling.  There is no way I could justify coughing up the equivalent of a mortgage payment for something that could have been done in a series of YouTube videos.  The only lesson that I probably could have learned from Tool was how to properly exploit a fan base at $500 a head.

     I am curious to know if there were any green M&Ms in the dressing room and an 18-inch replica of Stonehenge on the stage since there were enough busses for each band member to have their own. Instead of the exploding drummer, they suffer from the singer that's too busy to show up.

     And I'm not really buying into Tool's claims of being a “mysterious” rock band.  I will concede that they are in fact a rock band, but mysterious?  Why so precious about it?  They're a prog rock band that plays more aggressively than your average prog rock band.

     This all goes back to my previously stated opinion that maybe Tool has run their course.  I don't begrudge these guys trying to make a living but if you go on tour without your singer maybe something is wrong with this situation and it's time to move on.

     Maynard is clearly showing signs that he is bored with the band.  He has other music projects going on and he owns and operates a winery.  That certainly sounds like somebody that has taken their ball of creativity and gone home.

     A Perfect Circle just put out a new record which means there will more than likely be a tour to support it.  Which means that it will be even longer before the next Tool album comes out.  Maybe it's time that everyone went their separate ways and only reconvene when the festival offers come in.

     This music clinic thing feels like their fan base is being taken advantage of.  That certainly crosses a line with me since I consider myself a part of that fan base.  At this point, if their new record ever does come out, it will take some really cool looking vinyl for me to be willing to spend any more money than the cost of a digital download.

The Sciences Of Sleep

Addendum:  Sleep released a new track titled "Leagues Beneath" earlier today through the Adult Swim singles series.  Here's a link to the SoundCloud page:  https://soundcloud.com/adultswimsingles/sleep

     Back on April 20^th, 2018, Christmas came early this year for those of us that are fans of the band Sleep.  I woke up around 6am that morning to find the internets abuzz with news that Sleep had released an unannounced album, via Third Man Records, called The Sciences to mark the occasion of the stoner's holiday.  With Record Store Day following on the next day, it seemed like a rather appropriate thing to do.

     As soon as I saw that a new Sleep record was a thing, I dropped everything and ran to my computer for further investigation.  I made my first iTunes purchase in I don't know how many years just to get the record pouring out of my speakers.  The next step was to secure the vinyl.

     From my initial scrounging around, I learned that Third Man did the first pressing on translucent green vinyl, with a gatefold cover, followed by black vinyl.  I was able to secure a copy of the green vinyl so I was under the impression that my fanboy/collector needs were satisfied.

     Until a few days later when I learned that there was a half green, half black version of The Sciences that was in a standard sleeve with alternate artwork.  This pressing was limited to 1,000 and was only distributed to a select few indie stores throughout the US and UK.  The fact that the record came out on Third Man should have been a clue that there would be some sort of super limited pressing.  I must be slipping in my old age for not realizing this sooner.  It was not easy trying to track a copy down but now I can say I own a different color of a record that I already had.   Hooray. No one would ever care, besides me, and that's okay.

     The Sciences has been out for about a month now and I have been giving it a listen at least once a day since then just trying to wrap my brain around the album before I tried writing about it.  As someone who doesn't even like to take aspirin, I am quite the opposite of a stoner but I sure do enjoy the stoner metal, when it's done right.  And by golly Sleep knocked it out of the park with this one.  This was their first full length since the epic Dopesmoker and their first new music since they put out the song “The Clarity” as part of the Adult Swim Sumer Singles Program a few years back.  This is also their first LP with Neurosis drummer, Jason Roeder.

     The three minute, three second opener is the title track and it is ten tons of instrumental riffage that is very reminiscent of the intro to Dopesmoker.  “The Sciences” feels as if it could continue into a larger piece but then it is suddenly interrupted by the sound of a bong hit which then drops into the second track, “Marijuanaut's Theme.”  The song starts ripping into the speakers as soon as it begins and doesn't let up for over six minutes.

     Track three is called “Sonic Titan.”  A nine minute live version of this song has been around for years on side D of Dopesmoker.  The studio version that is on The Sciences is a more fleshed out and methodical take on the song that spans twelve and a half minutes and occupies all of side B.

     “Antarcticans Thawed” is the entirety of side C and is the second leg of a three song marathon in the middle of the album when all of the songs clock in at over ten minutes.  Al Cisneros' vocal approach takes on more of a chanting aspect that is similar to the rhythms found in throat singing. Matt Pike's guitar playing sounds more meditative and droning until he hits the solo and then all bets are off.  Good luck keeping your brain in your ears.

     “Giza Butler” is the second to last track on the album.  The title is in tribute to the bass player in Black Sabbath, Geezer Butler. There's a nice mellow intro to the song that gives the brain a brief respite for about two minutes before the band drops the hammer of grooves for another eight.  Toward the end, a fuzzed out bass kicks in to take things up another notch.

     “The Botanist” closes out side D and brings The Sciences to a close.  It's a six minute instrumental jam where the band feels as if they are unwinding and bringing us all back down to Earth after they took us on a journey to outer space.

     All in all, Sleep did not disappoint in any way with The Sciences.  Al Cisneros and Matt Pike found a way to bring together the distinct sounds of their other bands, Om and High On Fire, that allowed them to reconvene as Sleep without clashing.  Or sounding like some sort of reach backwards for former glory that sometimes happens when bands reform and get back into the studio.

     Ear buds and laptop speakers will not contain this thing due to the heft of the low end.  For peak enjoyment, run this record through a proper stereo setup on vinyl and play it so loud your neighbors call the cops.

Here's a link pick up the vinyl: https://thirdmanstore.com/bands/sleep/the-sciences or better yet, head out to your favorite local store and grab a copy in person.

Record Store Day 2018 Recap

     Another Record Store Day has come and gone.   My wallet is lighter and my shelves are heavier.  And after a few weeks, I finally had a spare evening to give a spin to most of the records that I picked up.

     It seems that as the years go by, the list of releases for Record Store Day gets longer but the list of records that grab my attention gets shorter.  I'm not sure why that is but I'm sure it has something to do with the major labels trying to cash in and make things less fun.

     To my understanding, most people plan to hit multiple stores over the course of the day since most stores open at different hours.  Due to the dwindling amount of releases that I have an interest in, I take the opposite approach.  I get in line at the Attic Records, located at 513 Grant Ave, in Millvale, around 6 or 6:30am and wait for them to open at 8am.  Since they make large volume purchases from their distributors throughout the course of the year, the store tends to get most of the Record Store Day releases.  I can usually pick up all but one or two records on my list so I wait a few days for them to hit the internet at a reasonable price.

     After I hit the Attic, I head home to regroup and then head back out for breakfast and then to one of the smaller used stores that don't really participate other than putting out some of their rarer used records.  This year it was Onion Maiden for breakfast followed by Skull Records to dig through their used bins.  OG pressings of Joy Division, Slayer and the Stooges are now proud members of my record collection, as if anyone but me would ever care.

     While I was in line at the Attic, I overheard the conversations of my fellow collector nerds.  I was paying close attention to which records they were looking for.  Luckily, no one seemed interested in the records on my list so that increased my chances of picking up the Patton Oswalt comedy album with the blacklight artwork which the store only got three of.

     I know they only had three copies of Annihilation because I made a preemptive reconnaissance strike the day before.  You see, the Attic gets so much stock that they have to start putting it out on Friday so they can be ready for Saturday.  The staff lets you browse but not buy.  This lets me plan my attack by knowing where the records I want will be in the store since they put them out in alphabetical order.  Taking a record store by strategy takes a lot of work.  You can't just run in there blind or you'll end up stuck on the opposite side of the store when you realize that you missed something and now it's too crowded to get back to the bin before the records run out.  Yes, I have put way too much thought and effort into this.

     The worst part of waiting in line this year was the extremely loud yinzer who would constantly try to imitate someone with a Pittsburgh accent.  He was clueless to the fact that he already had a thick Pittsburgh accent so his attempts at imitating it at an obscene volume were awful.  People in line were visibly wincing every time this guy would open his mouth.  It's 6:30am, try shutting the fuck up for once.  And of course he was wearing shorts and a t-shirt in the barely 30 degree weather.  Moron.

     So far, I've had a chance to dig into the Wipers live album from 1982, the Quicksand EP, Triptych Continuum, the Rage Against The Machine live EP from the Democratic National Convention in 2000, the David Bowie 3LP live album from 1978 in London and Quick And Dirty by TAD.

     The music on the Bowie live album was great but the vinyl pressing was not so great.  Less than high quality pressings are one of my biggest gripes with Record Store Day.  This was supposedly a limited release but it was an edition of 10,000 units.  Last I checked, 10,000 of anything is not very limited.  The high number of records pressed means that in an effort to keep their costs down, the pressing plant was trying to get as many records as possible out of each stamper used to press the records.  Most plants will only use a stamper for up to 500 records because they will get worn out from the heat and will start to retain bits of plastic from the previous record.  I'm sure they were going well beyond 500 when they pressed this Bowie album.  There were pops all over it.

     The Rage Against The Machine live record served more as an historical document than something that I'd listen to on the regular.  Given the situation and conditions the band was playing under that day, the sound quality wasn't the greatest.  My guess is that this has to be one of the last recordings of the band left in the vault but it was still worth a listen.  Well after they played at the 2000 Democratic National Convention, in Los Angeles, a riot broke out and the media quickly blamed it on the band.  Guitar wizard, Tom Morello, was quick to call bullshit on that because he was already gone and at a restaurant eating dinner at the time of the riot.  Listening to this EP did prompt me to drag their second album, Evil Empire, off the shelf for a few listens and I suddenly remembered how great that record was.

     The Wipers live album was recorded at The Met, in Portland, OR, on December 31^st, 1982.  As many times as I have listened to albums from the Wipers, I had never heard a live recording of the band.  After listening to this release, I now want to build a time machine so I can go back and see them play with my own eyes.  What a band they were.

     The Record Store Day release that has me coming back to it most frequently is Quick And Dirty, from TAD.  That record served as a swift kick in the pants of a reminder as to how good a band TAD is.  Again, much like the Rage record, my ears forced me to get more TAD onto the turntable.  If you missed one of the 900 copies available in the US, here's a link to give it a listen:  TAD~Quick And Dirty.
     For those of us who bow down at the altar of Joey, Dee Dee, Johnny and Tommy, another noteworthy release was the Sundragon Sessions LP from the Ramones.  This was a session of demos for the album Leave Home that were recorded at Sundragon studios.  The session can also be found on disc 2 of the 40th anniversary, deluxe edition of Leave Home that came out last year.
     There was also a 2LP reissue of the self-titled Stooges album.  This is a standard version of the album that was pressed on yellow vinyl, with screen printed covers, for the grand opening of Third Man Records' Detroit location.  The second LP is a collection of alternate takes and mixes from the recording sessions.

     I still have to get the Lurkers' Fulham Fallout reissue, the Tom Waits Brawlers, Bawlers, and Bastards reissues and the Star Wars Porg shaped picture disc in my ears. So many records, so little time.

Submachine & Killer Of Sheep At 123 Pleasant St.

     This past Saturday evening (5/5/2018), I found myself with a lack of responsibility outside of working on these articles that I feel compelled to shove into the gaping maw of the internet.  I took this open schedule opportunity to not get any writing done and made the hour and a half drive south to Morgantown, WV to see Submachine and Killer Of Sheep tear it up at 123 Pleasant St.

     While driving down to the venue, I couldn't help but laugh at myself for traveling over an hour to see bands that I could see by driving across town but can never find the energy to get off of the couch to do so.  I also found it odd that I knew more about the parking situation around a club in Morgantown than I do about clubs across town.  I had ventured south to the same place in previous years to check out True Widow and The Evens.

     Luckily, I didn't have to worry about coming up with food since I jammed enough Onion Maiden to feed a small village down my gullet before I hit the road.  Since the music is my main priority when I embark on adventures of this sort, I never bothered to find out if there are any decent food or coffee sources around 123 Pleasant St. outside of the fast food joints that are on the road between the interstate and the venue.

     Submachine was the first band to hit stage.  After seeing them numerous times over the years, they are still a lot of fun and they seem to be getting better with age.  It was great to hear the old songs live again, such as The and Bull In A China Shop, but the handful of newer songs that they played were even better.  The last song they played sounded completely different from anything they've done in the past.  To hear Submachine get out of their comfort zone and so soundly pull it off was worth putting up with the asshole in the pickup truck with Texas plates on the highway.  If there is a new record in the works, I will be the first in line to pick it up because it will be a monster.  I think their last record, In Spite Of Everything, was musically, and sonically, the best thing they've ever done but these new songs were eye opening scorchers.

     Next up was a band from Cleveland called FYPM (Fuck You Pay Me.)  They're a band that I had heard of and seen their rather memorable name on flyers but never actually crossed paths with before.  Immediately after their set I picked up both of the LPs they had at the merch table.  With songs like Ammosexual and Douche Chills, what's not to like.  The song that cinched it for me was Steubenville City Limits.  It's a song about the Steubenville high school football players from a few years ago that were doing anything they wanted, including rape, and these behaviors were excused and covered up by school officials and the local authorities.  And the singer, Tony Erba, gets bonus points for pointing out to me that there was a Sheetz a few blocks over during pre-show chit chat when I was complaining about not having a place to grab coffee for the drive home.

     Killer of Sheep went on next and I'm guessing they went on third in order to give the drummer, Greg Mairs, a break between sets since he plays in both Submachine and Killer Of Sheep.  I have been enamored with this band since I saw them open for that Black Flag reunion band, Flag, a few years ago.  Killer Of Sheep had the best set of the night back then and they get better and better every time I see them.  They also had a few new songs in their set so hopefully they'll be doing something with them soon.  Yes, I know, their album Scorned came out less than a year ago but I really want to hear what else Riff Master General, Oyo Ellis and company have up their sleeves.

     Sadly, I had to bail before, Morgantown locals, False Profit played.  The hour was getting late and I was starting to feel it.  With the hour plus drive in pouring rain ahead of me, I decided to call it a night.  Since I am conditioned to be chained to a desk at 7am on most days, I was certainly up past my bed time.  I was off to Sheetz for coffee and then back to my couch.  All in all, I'm glad I resisted my usual impulse to hide in my house to avoid humanity and let shows like this pass me by.

Here are some links to check out the bands that were on the bill:

Submachine~In Spite Of Everything

Killer Of Sheep~Out Of Time

FYPM~Dumbed Down

False Profit~War Journal

I'm Glad I Didn't Delete This

Context:  I wrote this a few years ago to submit to the Pittsburgh City Paper as an editorial.  I'm guessing they had no use for it since I never heard back from them.  Oh well.  Given the bizarre reactions to Michelle Wolf's appearance at the White House Correspondents Dinner, I thought this would be a good time to drag this rotting article off of my hard drive.  What a weird world we're living in.  The truth is shouted down when spoken but the media doesn't openly question the lies of the powerful for fear of losing their cozy position next to that power.

     Is it my imagination or wasn't it only about a month ago that people were in the streets and on the internet crying out at the horrors that took place at the Charlie Hebdo offices?  We all stood tall for freedom of speech in the following days.

     When I woke up on Sunday morning, the American media was having a shit fit over Saturday Night Live airing a filmed parody of a car commercial.  In the actual ad, “Daddy's Little Girl” is all grown up and is being dropped off at the airport by her father so she can join the military.  In the Saturday Night Live version of the ad, the daughter is being dropped off at the airport so she can join ISIS/ISIL/or whatever these caliphate loving assholes are being called this week.

     This controversy stinks of being manufactured.  I would like to know how many people actually saw the bit or are they feigning outrage for the sake of feigning outrage?  I know I haven't seen a full episode of SNL, as it aired, since Phil Hartman was a cast member.  And I'm sure at some point during the show the only viewers are members of those bullshit parents organizations that are waiting for a cast member to slip and say “fuck” on live television so they can send a few thousand form letters to the FCC with bogus names and addresses.

     When I saw the the sketch in question, I thought it was the funniest thing the show has done in years.  But then again, I support the terrorists and hate America because I'm a union member and don't hate women, people of a different race or people that are gay.  So what do I know?

     These Ultra-American douchebags had one hell of a week talking Rudy The Super-Mayor off of a ledge because of his attempt at remaining relevant so now it's someone else's turn to twist on the hook.

     The 24-hour news beast needs to be fed so let's keep churning this shit out so another two and a half minutes of air time can be squandered.

     All of the coverage was posing the question to me as “Has SNL gone too far?”  My response to this query was “Have your heads gone too far up your own asses?”

     Over the next week, these easily offended rugged individualists will take a break from staggering in front of cameras to whine about everyone being too sensitive and politically correct to whine about how insensitive the sketch was and that Lorne Michaels should issue a very heartfelt fake apology.  I hope he dusts off his Canadian politeness and responds with a hearty “Shut the fuck up.”

     Let these idiots learn how to turn off their televisions when something they don't like comes across the screen.  Free speech is not a one way street.  In fact, it's not a street at all.  Free speech is as wide open as outer space.  It can't be “Hooray for free speech!!!” one week and “How dare you!!!” the next.

     Fanaticism on one end of the spectrum will always create fanaticism on the opposite end. Especially in the Culture War/Us vs. Them environment of nonsense that is being used as a business model to usher in the downfall of humanity.  The level of discourse in this country has sunk from being the equivalent of professional wrestling to now taking on the mentality of a 6^th grade playground dispute that has devolved into nothing but a series of “Your momma...” jokes.

     If something or someone is batshit crazy we all reserve the right to say that that something or someone is batshit crazy.  End of story.  If you don't like it, put your grown up pants on and use your own freedom of speech to say really stupid things simply because I could use the laugh right about now.

     We are living in historical times. Not because of the greatness of the times in which we live but because their sadness.  We all have a front row seat to witness the end of civilization.