One more thing

Dear ASSHOLE S who CONTINUE, RELENTLESSLY  to find  my blog through the following searchs:

“imperial can” hey fuckers zip

imperial can hey fuckers mediafire






All You Do Is Take And Take

Dear faithful blog readers. There will be no podcast this week. Sorry. This weekend was crazy and then I went to a baseball game with my dad, got heat stroke, need to do laundry. So no podcast this week. If all goes well there won’t be a lot of activity on this blog over the next few months. I will still try to do podcasts, but fingers crossed, things will work out as they should and I’ll be really busy with some other stuff.

So in the meantime, you should visit This Machine Kills Cancer and read about our friend Shayne Miel, creator of Future Kings of Nowhere. After you read his story of fighting cancer and beating it’s stupid ass you should visit If  You Make It, who are hosting Shayne’s debut album for free. Or you could not be a prick and donate money for the music so Shayne can continue to be a Machine that Kills Cancer. I did it. You should too. Don’t be a squeeb.

Also, it was pride weekend in a bunch of cities. So you know, be proud of being GLBTQ, that you know people like that, have loved ones and family members. Remember ALL religions hate gay people and therefor their theologies should be taxed so they are forced to pay for social services that even those they hate can benefit from them. Least we forget the discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation, race and since most of them don’t let women be preachers, sexual orientation in their hiring practices. Assholes like Fred Phelps still exist. We’ve come a long way America, we got a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG way to go still.

That’s all I got. The O’s won, 4-3. It was a good game. Camden Yards is a great place to relax in the First World away from First World Stress. Remember, there are like billions of people who got it way worse then you do. Be mindful. Recycle. Watch Build to Shred and learn about reusing and tools. Gonna go get my shit together soon. Keep it real.

Jesus Hates Punk Rock and Hard Core Music.

Rohnert Park LP
Bridge 9

This is a picture of me with my vinyl copy of Ceremony’s new album Rohnert Park. This is here to prove that I have in fact bought a copy of this album. See, last night I was on a message board that was talking about this album. Half the kids said it was good and half the kids, who used to be fans hated it. So I had to check this out. Normally, these days I go to a myspace page or someplace that is streaming the album, but no such dice on this one folks. I did find it uploaded on some mediafire file sharing place. Now, I am known to do this from time to time. Generally if I hate the music (which I mostly do) I don’t listen to the record anymore. But if I love it, I usually buy the album. This time, I loved it so much I hauled my ass all the way from the burbs to DC and bought a copy tonight. It came with a download card. So now I am stoked cuz I get the official version while my mom has my record player (no kidding).

So, here is the deal, Rohnert Part is one of the most neurotic fucking punk albums I have heard in a long time. As a general rule, punk is supposed to be kind of dangerous and on the verge of melting down. But these days, so much punk music is safe and predictable, that frankly I forget it’s supposed to ruin my life. Rohnert Park makes me want to stab people in the face. This is twisted, gnarly, fucked out music made by guys who have lost their minds. All the angry kids, bummed out that this band doesn’t sound the same, I have a feeling Ceremony doesn’t really give a fuck what you think. Rohnert Part was made to piss people off. Not just normal people, but people who listen to punk music.

I have no idea what this band used to sound like. Frankly, I don’t really give a fuck what they were supposed to sound like. This shit is so brain-damaged that it actually makes me feel like maybe I can cope with the stress, anxiety, depression and bullshit job that are a part of my everyday life. Because that is what this album is about, madness, annihilation, self-destruction, self loathing and hating the entire world. This band is standing on the edge of the Eiffel Tower with an Atom Bomb and there just waiting for the right moment to drop it so they can go home and be done with this place. Album of the year. I am calling it right here.

No One Deserves to Be Here More Than Me
Deathwish Inc.

Sometimes it takes another album to put an unrelated album in context. That happened to me today. I’ve been sitting on No One Deserves To Be Here More Than Me (I am not sure if this is a direct play on Miranda July’s No One Deserves to Be Here More Than You but I suspect it is) for a good few months. I think I actually got this in December of 2009. But this record didn’t have a release date or any pre-press. Basically, a week before Deathwish had them, they took pre-orders for VINYL ONLY. I think the record just became available on iTunes, on CD and in stores just a month ago. So were gonna say this is a new record. But anyway, as I was listening to Ceremony, you know, the record you just read about, I started thinking about No One Deserves to Be Here More Than Me. This album, is the hardcore version of Rohnert Park (yes uninitiated public, there is a difference between punk and hardcore, though they are in the same vein). And now I realize my confusion to this album was because Blacklisted was trying to piss me the fuck off. Guess what, it didn’t work.

This shit is barely a hardcore album. Frankly I don’t know what to call it. Singer, George Hirsch, is such a self loathing sad bastard, who loves to tear himself apart in public, at least it feels that way. I don’t know, this shit seems so sincere. And the album owes as much to Nirvana and The Melvins as it does to New York and Boston Hardcore. It’s mostly and album covered is so much sludge and self hatred that it’s like the band ran over itself right after they emptied the oil tank onto themselves from their tour van.

But Blacklisted definitely went off the deep end on this one. I mean, it’s not a stretch on the surface. Some of the songs are pretty straight forward, but they do have some trumpet in some of the songs, used quite well in album opener “Our Apartment Is Always Empty”. They also have an acoustic song, “The P.I.G (The Problem is G)” which is not a bad song at all, but Hirsch could utilize some singing lessons. I mean, dude has a great voice for yelling into the microphone, but he’s no Robert Goulet. They do a lot of other things though, that hardcore bands just don’t do. I mean, it’s loud, it’s heavy, they have slow parts and songs which is not uncommon these days, but this record would not have been out of place had it come out in the 90’s along side Mudhoney and Dinosaur Jr. At first this record kind of pissed me off, but I think it was supposed to. And now I kind of like it. A lot.

In the end, it’s not quite as successful as Rohnert Park and it’s a bit uncouth for me to compare one band to another. But I feel like these albums are siblings. Both are from well established bands who have had a lot of hype fall their way who ultimately turned their backs on the safe road and made the albums they wanted to make, nevermind what the pack of 15-19 year old white suburban boys say on the internet. At my age, this music isn’t really targeted at me. Most people grow out of this phase of their lives, or they hide it. But you know, these albums are made by people probably closer to my age then most of their fans. And it’s exactly the kind of albums I want to hear.

Finally Finished

The text for Issue #4 of the Korrupt Yr Self paper zine has been finished tonight. It’s 7,389 words. It’s about the last year of my life basically. Which is about when the last zine came out. It’s headline is FUCK CANCER. Expect more news in the following months. I just thought you would like to know. Peace and good night.

KYS Presents Episode Ten – The “FUCK” Episode

Brought to you by the Korrupt Yr Self Church to the One Holy Scripture, One Word Long: Fuck. All Praise the Beautiful Word! Find it here.

A Fucking Intro
I Like Fucking – Bikini Kill
Welcome to another fucking episode of the Korrupt Yr Self Fucking Pod Cast You Sloppy Fuck
I Think We Should Fuck – Dead Teenagers
Hard Fucking – Tenacious D
Bravo, Another Beautiful “Fuck You” Song – Paint It Black
Mope Is A Fucking Piece of Shit – The Most Secret Method
Fuck on Off – Getaway Car
Where’s the Fucking Lyric Sheet – Guyana Punch Line
Home Fucking is Killing Prostitution – Guyanna Punch Line
Fuck This and Fuck That and Fuck That Dude With a Fucking French Hat
Thunderstorms Still Make Me Want to Fuck – A New Spelling of My Name
Fuck The Kids – NOFX
Fuck the Kids II – NOFX
Fuck the Kids (Revisited) – NOFX
Fuckuturn – Kid Dynamite
Fuck This, I’m Out – Off W/Their Heads
Go Fuck Your Self – Hammell on Trial
Who the Fuck – Now Sleepyhead
Fuck, is that stupid fuck still fucking talking? Fuck Me.
Don’t Say Motherfucker, Motherfucker – Turbonegro
Slack Motherfucker – Superchunk
Fuck the Border – Propaghandi
Bottom Line: Fuck You – Ruiner
Well, I’m sorry to say, but this is the end of the show, and I’ve never been more sad to say good bye. I really and truly want to cry because I enjoyed my self so much with this episode.
Fuck this Shit – Belle and Sebastian

A Memorial I Don’t Know How To Write

One year ago, On June 22, 2010, I cried for the first time in a long time. It was in front of, essentially a perfect stranger, in the middle of a giant room filled with perfect strangers. Talk about being out of my element. Through the most choked out, incoherent nonsense, I spoke to a woman, so obviously drunk on wine about what seemed like a tiny moment, but apparently was not a tiny moment. As the words came out of my mouth, the impact they had actually had on my life were pretty fucking profound. A mantra, a philosophy, words to live by if you will. They were so simple.

I can not pinpoint, in the shredded fabric that serves as my memory, when I first met Clark Sabine. I remember that I loved his band Motorcycle Wars. To get into the hows and whys is so irrelevant at this point. But anyway, it started with me begging the guys at Now! Compact Discs if my band, The Magnums, could open for Motorcycle Wars at an in store. When Ben said yes a week later, I was so excited. No one in my band cared about this show, outside it being a chance to play, but I was thrilled. I had gotten very caught up in the Motorcycle Wars vs Dead Teenagers “War”. I thought it was the best thing to ever happen to punk in DC. It made fun of how fucking serious the music scene seemed, and the whole thing was so refreshing. I will not deny that I really wanted to be a part of that. And this show, I got to be for a moment. I remember it for three things that occurred: 1) Ian Mackaye was at the show and it totally freaked me out that HE was going to watch ME play music. 2) Bonnie Schlegel tackled me during our set. 3) Clark gave my band props from the stage. It meant a lot to me, because, as vain as it sounds to write, there were a lot of people I wanted to impress that day. Like I said, there was something going on in DC and I wanted to be a part of it, and in that moment Clark made me feel like I was.

A few weeks later, I had the privileged of seeing The Motorcycle Wars at the Kansas House. The tragedy of this part of my life was that I did not have a drivers license. This was because I had gotten a DUI in September of 2000. So, part of the reason these shows have such a significant prominence in my mind is because I went to so few and it took so much effort to go. I think, by this point, I was living in Fairfax and could catch shows in Arlington before the metro closed. This was before Metro was open super late on weekends. Anyway, I digress. After the show a bunch of people walked down from Kansas House to the Galaxy Hut to drink some beers. I tagged along with a bunch of people who were, essentially faint acquaintances. Somehow, in the crowd of people I actually got caught up in a conversation with Clark. We were having a typical bar talk, deep and esoteric. At some point, he asked me what I wanted to do with my life. No joke, it was pretty much that straight forward. I said that I really wanted my band, The Magnums, to be able to tour and make records for like 7 or eight years. Nothing big, just a good, solid run. Clark said to me, “You can totally do that if you want. You just have to plant the seed. Once you plant the seed, it will grow. Maybe it won’t grow into what you want it to be, or maybe, no matter what you do it won’t grow at all. But what’s important is that you planted the seed.”

I was kicked out of the Magnums  in July of 2001. I got really drunk on Gin and had a diva moment at a show in a roller rink in Ocean City. And while I think it’s pretty ironic that I got kicked out of a rock and roll band for being an asshole, I acted like a petulant, ungrateful child that night. I guess I decided to stomp on that seed. However, a few days later, after I got over this episode and the fallout, Clark’s words totally made this not seem that bad. I had tried, I gave it everything I had and did what I could to make it grow. But what was important was I planted the seed. What was important was that I had tried in the first place. That philosophy, that mind set is perfect because it pushes you and comforts you at the same time. Things tend to grow the way they will. You just have to try and nurture them.

Clark’s death hit me really hard. A lot harder than I would have expected. I did not know him very well. I would run into him at shows from time to time and talk to him for five minutes every few months. I never hung out with him, I didn’t really know him at all. He was a guy that played in bands and was into some of the same things that I was. So my reaction to his death surprised me. I know part of it was that he was my age and he was gone. Part of it was how he died and the circumstances surrounding his illness. Clark died after a battle with Skin Cancer. You don’t think people get skin cancer, I mean unless they are those idiotic orange people that spend time under tanning beds.

At his memorial, surrounded by so many “punk kids” from “the scene” I was shocked. I knew some people pretty well, but like Clark, most of them were just people I knew from seeing their band play, or working at a bar or a club or something mundane like that. It’s strange to be in a room with so many people whose art is your life. Not just a part of your life, but is what you live and breath for. And I’m not going to lie, I felt like I was trespassing that day. I didn’t even want to go, I just felt compelled to be there. Something about all of this just drove me towards that country club out in Fairfax.

It saved my life. I believe this. After spilling my selfish guts out to Clark’s sister, through water wine eyes, she basically said that to honor her brother, she implored his friends to see a dermatologist about any moles they had. I promised her I would. If you know me well, you know I don’t make promises unless I intend to keep them. I know myself very well, and I can’t hold myself to anything. I don’t know why. But I held myself to this. And it saved my life. I’ve had two irregular moles removed and two more are being biopsied probably as I write this. I found out that I have higher risk for skin cancer.

For a year, since all this happened it’s really fucked me up to think that Clark had to die so that I could, live? Not get skin cancer? I don’t know. I can’t really articulate the sadness I feel, the confusion I feel about all this. I think about Clark everyday of my life now. This is a person I knew mostly from making a fool of himself for people with a band that broke up, what nine, ten years ago? I think about all the things in my life, about how I got to that point and it fucks with my head, because it’s all fucking coincidental. If I went over it here, this would turn into a novella and I would probably go mad. I’ve learned how fragile and precious life is. And man, that has really fucked with my head. Mostly, I feel foolish about my feelings. They seem so misplaced. The sadness and grief don’t make sense to me at all. It’s not, “logical”. I get depression. When I am depressed, that shit I understand and can cope with. This is a grief that seems so ridiculous for me to have, but I’ve never felt something so intently.

A few months ago I asked Clark’s girlfriend Rebbecca (I believe I  directed you here earlier), after my first surgery, if she would send me a picture of a tattoo of his. It’s a bare tree surrounded by a border. I always loved that tattoo. I just thought it was really great, with a fantastic image caught in a frame. It was really stark and intense. I definitely get tattoo jealous sometimes, and Clark’s tree was up there. Had he been alive, of course I would have never stolen the image, or even the concept from him. That’s just bad tattoo etiquette. And even though it doesn’t seem likely, I didn’t want to ever forget this man that I barely knew. Suddenly, he was such a part of my life, and needing such a self destructive reminder of him just seems idiotic. I grappled with actually getting it for a long long time. And in the end, aside from serving as a memorial to Clark and a reminder to me of what everything he has given me, it can be a conversation starter. I want to share Clark’s philosophy, embody it in my life as best as I can, and to me this tattoo is the visual personification of my mantra, “Plant the Seed”.

Clark, you are with me every step of the way. I am not half the man that you were, but I am trying everyday to find the hope, the joy, the passion and the energy. When I want to give in, give up and turn off, I think about you and the life that you lived and what you clearly gave to so many people in this tiny, fucked up world. It keeps me going. It keeps me in check and I can’t thank you enough. Thank you too, for bringing Rebbecca into my life. She is an amazing angel and is the living embodiment of your philosophy. Though I would give up our friendship in a second if it would negate your death and bring you back to her, I cherish her being in my life more than this crumbled language can truly express. She is rare being, and I am blessed to know her. I miss you, friend. Thank you for all that you have given me. Even in death, you do not rest. It’s remarkable and beautiful.

The photo above of Clark was taken by Leigh Kelsy. I didn’t ask her if I could use it, but her flickr page says it’s cool so long as I credit her. I am humble and grateful for this image of Clark to accompany this piece. Leigh, if you read this and are pissed, let me know and I will take the photo down.

David Combs in Color

David Combs in Color

Originally uploaded by goodgovernor

The Max Levine Ensemble, Hot New Mexicans, Shitty Darkness
Washington DC, 6-17-2010

My camera and I do not appear to like this space anymore. After getting some pretty good shots at the Good Luck show a while back, I’ve been unhappy with my photos over all from this space. Defiance, Ohio was packed and hard to get a good shot off and my auto focus was acting up (though I prefer manual focus, I don’t like this feature on my current lens). The show was amazing, but I didn’t get a lot of clean shots and when I did, I didn’t like the framing.

For this show, I was just not in a good mood with life and that affected my picture taking abilities. I had the run of the room for Shitty Darkness, but I just felt stuck. It’s hard shooting a new band, whose music you don’t know. Then Hot New Mexicans was kind of the same. I really wanted to get into it, but I was just so grumpy and my camera was not playing nice with me. I’ve been messing with the zoom feature on my lens and shooting things at without a flash. Just experimenting and had some okay results.

When TMLE came up, I was psyched. The four photos you see here I am really happy with. But this is about 4 out of forty. I took 85 shots this night and I don’t like that this is all I have to show for it. But TMLE did not disappoint. They were so good. The new songs are getting really tight too. So much so, I am actually thinking about getting a ticket for the Anti-Flag show. We shall see