A Time And Times And Half A Time

I've always been amazed by how people just come up to me and give me strange things. Its been happening as long as I can remember. I'm not talking about people giving me CDs of their bands or normal things like that, Im talking about crazy shit, like for example one time a girl came up to me with a rather large blue tupperware container with a lid on it and said "I thought you might want this". When i asked her what it was she explained how she had just given birth and how she specifically asked for her placenta so she could give it to me. So there I was, holding a 3-4 pound tupperware full of bloody afterbirth and like any perfectly insane man, I politely said "Thanks", and took it home, broke out the mustard, the fork, and the camera, and proceeded to have a very colorful photoshoot with C.T. But sometimes the things that appear in front of me are far more mysterious. Probably one of the most profound things I've been given came to me at a very spiritually intense time in my life. I was 16 years old, on tour playing awkward teenage metal, full of evil while still being guided by the lights, and lucky enough to be hooked up with what has become one of my favorite all-time bands, Sugartooth. I have yet to see a band so gifted as they were at the time. The sweet sounds seemed to just pour out of them with no effort whatsoever. It was common for their soundchecks to turn into hour long brilliant soul lifting jams, with usually only a few of us lucky enough to hear it. Just as important as their music, was the friendships we had. Being at such an awkward age, I was so full of self doubt and small town ideals, and they were always the first to sit me down and tell me that I was a talented musician, and not the dork I thought I was. They knew we were trapped in a crappy band and they saw the musicians we wanted to be. I spent hours on the sugartooth bus, smoking weed and playing killer guitars with Marc, the main melody source of Sugartooth. He smoked more weed than anyone I have ever met, and if you know me you know that is a very serious statement. I've met people who are perma-high, but he really was almost in a whole other reality. A truly good plane of existence that I only wish I could reach. Being as how he was such a mentor to me at the time, when he walked up to me out of nowhere and said the all to familiar "You need this", I was immediately nervous to unfold the black cloth he had pushed into my arms. As I unfolded it, I saw it was a black shirt with a red print of the devil with a pistol in his mouth. On the back was a small cross with a bird on one side of it, and a cat on the other, and a quote below the cross that read " A TIME AND TIMES AND HALF A TIME - REVELATIONS" Marc told me it was a one of a kind shirt that was given to him and that I should have it. Being already obsessed with the inevitable apocalypse, it was a truly heavy moment in my life, and to this day I wait to understand what it means. As it is very faded and worn, Ive since retired the shirt and it sits in my collection of other oddly strange and important items Ive acquired over the years.




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Confessions Of A Serial Killer

How many lame, misrepresented serial killer movies have disgraced the hard work of some of the best killers by terrible casting, often replacing the usually average unattractive majority of psychopaths with chiseled jaw B movie rejects who have no real idea the personality of who they are supposed to mimic. Nothing is worse than the awkward, shy behavior of Jeffrey Dahmer being ruined by some crappy actor talking like a tough guy to his victim with some shit written action movie type one-liners before a lame camera trick murder scene. Sure, there are quite a few decent ones. Usually its a decently casted actor with mildly crappy dialogue and over-dramatized kill scenes. The Ed Gein one, the Ted Bundy one, the Chikatilo one are not too terrible. The Dahmer, Gacy, Zodiac, and Henry:Portrait Of A Serial Killer are examples of the garbage that are abominations to actual art of the killers they fail to portray. What is truly sad is one of the most brutal, true to life killer flicks has been under the radar since its conception. Although the budget was lacking in comparison to the other inferior productions, the comparisons to the real killers is spot on, and the brutality of actual murder is so well captured.

"Confessions Of A Serial Killer" is fearless in its quest to accurately show the sexual sadistic realities, and the genuine lack of intelligence and hillbilly glory of the murders of Henry Lee Lucas an Otis Toole. This movie is so brutal, its the closest you will ever get to feel the savagery of a real home invasion/bondage/dual rape and the concluding simultaneous orgasm and death. The "Cum and Go"... Check it out if you dare, and if you are lucky enough to find the vhs and a vcr that still works....

Dawnbringer

Doom, PowerMetal, Rock and Roll.. its all here. And its all clear. Probably one of the best records of the year, Nucleus was released in late September, and is well worth the price. Songs of Wizards, Earthquakes, and The Devil, this 40 min record leaves every metal need satisfied.

Recorded by Sanford Parker at Semaphore Studios.
1. So Much For Sleep 06:00 2. You Know Me 02:50 3. The Devil 06:00 4. Swing Hard 03:27 5. Cataract 03:07 6. Like An Earthquake 05:19 7. All I See 02:52 8. Old Wizard 05:17 9. Pendulum 06:04 Total playing time 40:56

NUCLEUS

My return to you

No one has felt my absence from the scene more than me. Every missed party, show, and all around good time I had to miss, ate at me like a parasite. I became a slave, and it's no one fault but my own, to the power of a stable, nice sized income. I have now seen first hand evil power of the dollar, and I am forever changed. For so many years I lived off crumbs, barely scraping by, and those were by far my most productive times. It's when I became enslaved by big numbers, that riffs started to come less frequently, and honestly, less intensely. But as always, fate has a different plan for me. Now fired for taking things that made me feel like I hadn't lost all my will, I have been returned to you, by fate itself, and I plan to do my best to take you wherever in this cosmos you wish to go. Already my guitar has started to speak to me again, and believe me, what it says, is what you need to hear. Let me end by saying that I truly missed you all, and it's great to be back

To All The Fallen Metal Shirts

After years of thinking and discussing this issue, I believe it is time it is addressed. When I think back to all the killer fuckin shirts I have had and lost, it makes we want to throw up. I remember every time overkill, megadeth, kiss, testament, would release a new design, we would race to Little Rock or Memphis to buy them.

At any given time since I was 14, I have had at least 25 metal shirts that I would rotate, depending on my current playlist. From the Dangerous Toys 'Sportin A Woody' shirt I got when they opened up for the Cult 'Sonic Temple' Tour, to the Alice Cooper $10 bootleg shirt I scored outside the arena on the 'Trash' tour, I always had a seriously prized collection. I even remember getting sent home from school for refusing to turn my Guns N Roses 'rape scene' shirt inside out. I know that I lost most of my most cherished shirts while on tour, but I still think back and wonder how I could have really lost so many kickass shirts. I mean, at one time I had every Metallica, Megadeth, Kiss, and Iron Maiden shirt that was available.

The most disgusting part of all of this... I am just one of the hundreds of people that have this exact same story. When I talk to people about this, it seems everyone else suffers from this terrible affliction. It makes me wonder, is there some greasy metal pig in New Jersey or somewhere sitting on all the lost and stolen metal shirts ever lost by every drunk or stoned metalhead in the world? Where is my original W.A.S.P. Fuck Like A Pig shirt goddamnit?? I'll tell u where it is. On Ebay for $150 fuckin dollars. Being sold by some greasy metal pig in New Jersey.

So I have a new cure for dealing with this pain. Every time I take a shot of whiskey, I cheers to a particular lost metal shirt that I used to have and is now in the abyss with all your lost metal shirts. By the time I take a shot for every shirt I can remember, I will probably destroy my liver and will die and be re-united with that Bolt Thrower 'Realm Of Chaos' shirt that I miss so motherfuckin goddamn much it hurts.

Rwake studio

Invasion U.S.A

GeoTagged, [N34.80759, E92.27081]

There are important ideas that filmmakers should be aware of during scriptwriting and production. Things that are guaranteed to keep their film exciting, fast paced, and action packed. Whoever was in charge of these things during the creation of this film are worthy of the highest level of respect. The inclusion
of such brilliant ideas such as an asian lady who is innocently snorting a line of cocaine with a glass straw getting smashed in the back of her head in mid-snort, jamming the glass straw into her brain, then being thrown from a high rise window to silence her aggervating screams... Brilliance.

Not only does it creates excitement, but who can't relate to that situation. As far as casting, the actors are all top-notch. Chuck Norris obviously dominates, a man disgusted by the out of control immigration of thugs, ready to take back the streets from these purse snatching terrorists. One of the best casting choices has to be the disfurged horror/action powerhouse Richard Lynch. Playing the character of Rostov, his brutallity is unmatched. Many other slimy coke skinned villans and blank faced cops fill out the cast, and are crucial to the compex plot of Rostov's terrorist army invading U.S.A at Christmas time no doubt, and being shut down by the inhuman will and power of Chuck Norris. The inevitable final showdown between Rostov and Norris is one of the greatest action movie scenes of all time. If God himself made an action movie, he would have been challenged to create an ending as good as the BAZOOKA FACEOFF! Need I say more?