In what felt to be many moons ago Agent Hosie (a.k.a Phil) had informed me that one of our hallmark bands from years past had announced their final tour and that it would be worthwhile to attend their passing. I agreed with his assessment of the situation, and left it in his capable hands to plan our trip to Atlanta, to witness Ministry in one of their final acts of sonic, civic disobedience.

For those of you not familiar with Ministry here is a link where you can read to your hearts contentment click but for those less "click" inclined here is a not so brief excerpt from their wiki.

  Al Jourgensen began Ministry in Chicago, Illinois in 1981. His first band prior to Ministry was Special Affect with Groovie Mann (of My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult) and drummer Harry Rushakoff (Concrete Blonde). The original line-up of Ministry consisted mainly of Jourgensen (vocals and keyboards) and Stephen George (drums), and Ministry's original sound was essentially New Wave synth-pop that was more melodic than the aggressive music for which Jourgensen would become known. In the incarnation of Jourgensen/George, Ministry created four 12" singles on Wax Trax! Records through 1984 (anthologized on Twelve Inch Singles). Their first LP, With Sympathy, was issued on Arista Records in 1983, and sold slowly but hit the upper 90's in the Billboard Top 100. The music in With Sympathy, and the various singles that Arista issued in association with it, was melodic pop. Jourgensen has always expressed disappointment with Ministry's music during those early years, reportedly referring to With Sympathy as an "abortion of an album." According to him, after signing the record contract, all artistic control of Ministry was "handed" over to other writers and producers. [1] Some of his preferred recordings from that era were collected into the CD Early Trax (Rykodisc Records, 2004).

….Ministry broke into the mainstream in 1991 with "Jesus Built My Hotrod" (co-authored by Gibby Haynes of the Butthole Surfers and Michael Balch of Frontline Assembly affiliation). The music video was a hit on MTV, and the band scored second billing on the Lollapalooza tour and managed, by some accounts, to steal the show. As the single would have indicated, the sound of the following LP, Psalm 69: The Way to Succeed and the Way to Suck Eggs (1992), was the most metal-oriented Ministry had put to record at that point, the focal point of the sound shifting almost entirely from synths to Jourgensen's and new members Mike Scaccia's and Louis Svitek's electric guitars. ??F????T, which is printed on the record, is Greek for "head" or "leader". The title was borrowed from Aleister Crowley's work: The Book of Lies (Psalm 69: The Way to Succeed and the Way to Suck Eggs). Psalm 69 became Ministry's biggest hit, including in addition to "Jesus Built My Hotrod" the singles "N.W.O." (a protest of the Persian Gulf War and attack directed at then-President George H.W. Bush) and "Just One Fix" (a collaboration with poet/novelist William S. Burroughs).

The "C-U-LaTour". Ministry's farewell tour started its North American leg on March 26, 2008 with Meshuggah and Hemlock as opening acts.

Hosie and I departed for Atlanta in faithful Kermit around 4:00 A.M. on Friday morning and arrived in Atlanta around eight A.M. Traffic only became dense as we neared Atlanta, but with Hosie navigating off of a rainforests worth of printed materials we negotiated the traffic with ease and found our way to our destination.

Traffic

It had been several years since I had visited Atlanta and I was shocked to see how much it had grown in the interim. Unfortunately it seemed that little of the obvious monies expended had been in the arena of urban renewal. Most of the growth was reminiscent of many of the development projects around Charlotte these days. Buildings and communities strategically designed to look like they have been there for awhile, like real communities look, grown and nurtured by generations. Unfortunately it reminds me of the décor one can get at retailers like Pier 51. Similar to the décor one might develop over years of travel and experience, yet available for purchase in one convenient pre-fab package. Convenient boxed style to decorate your boxed home in your boxed community.

Pemberton Square Area

We located parking around the Perberton square section of downtown, around which resides several attractions including "The World of Coca-Cola", The Georgia Aquarium, Pemberton Park and several other museums, and sought out breakfast prior to the museum opening at nine A.M. We walked into the heart of the downtown area, which was rapidly awakening to the beautiful Friday morning. The sun shone brightly, birds chirped, and the homeless were rising to bask in a new day filled with promise. We settled upon an establishment called "The Metro Diner" to break our fast, but I believe both of us were rather disappointed in the quality of the fare. My pancakes were grainy and I found the single serve syrup packets provided less than appealing. Fortunately they still filled sufficiently me and did not promote any gastro intestinal distress, unlike agent Hosie's, who later helped to orally fertilize a corner of Pemberton Park. If not for the quasi hot waitress and her hot European accent the whole experience would have been a bust.

Dark Tower

World of Coke and The Georgia Aquarium

We made it back down to the "World of Coca Cola" slightly after nine and took the tour which I would recommend to anyone in the Atl. area. I particularly enjoyed the Andy Warhol exhibit, and the sampling gallery with tastes of flavors Coke sells in foreign markets. I found the "Menthe" which tasted like mouthwash and the Aztec Cola particularly disturbing to the palate. The "Beverly" was less disgusting than everyone made it out to be, but then again I really dig grapefruit. Overall I found the museum to be lacking from its previous incarnation, then again I was much younger and far less jaded the last time I took the tour. The tour exited into, get this, a gift shop!

The Vortex

It was pushing 11:00 by the time we exited so we began the trek to "The Vortex" a place Hosie had visited in his last mission to Atlanta. It was a really cool place with excellent food and a wide selection of beer. It is staffed primarily with scantily clad tattooed women, so that did not lessen its appeal. Hosie  had a grilled cheese sandwich topped with jalapeño's and black olives, while I sampled their black and bleu burger, Cajun spices with a bleu cheese spread and tater tots on the side, which I really enjoyed. That place does some serious business, so I was glad we got there early.

Atlanta is really run down in spots, and the homeless/panhandlers situation is desperate. Yet their stories were well played and rehearsed and separated me with around two dollars and change of my limited travel funds. Hosie was separated from a bag of chips, which I believed the man actually really enjoyed.

Official Trip T-Shirt....(Just Kidding)

Old Building

On our return trip I spotted out hotel so we went in and were able to get our room early. We asked the desk clerk about the venue, which we had considered walking to that night, but he recommended that we take a cab, due to the seedy nature of the intervening terrain. We thanked him for his advice and proceeded back to the car, with a brief pit stop at the Hard Rock café for a few more beers and yet another recommendation that we take a cab to the show. One we got to the car we drove to the hotel, settled in, washed off the Atlanta grime we had accumulated and took naps. We got up around six and ate a redneck buffet of crackers and granola bars before catching a cab to the show.

Red Roof Inn

The Masquerade was an interesting place, although paying $3.50 for a Pabst Blue Ribbon marks it as extremely pricey. It is divided into three levels, Heaven, Purgatory and Hell, and partially located in an old mill, with authentic stone masonry and rusty iron accents, as Hosie put it, a real bondage lovers dream. The place was hopping with activity with several local bands performing. We were herded upstairs to heaven and watched Hemlock, who were quasi-entertaining, and at least genuine in their desire to please.  Despite their much self-celebrated record deal after 15 years, I cannot say I would bet on them breaking big any time soon. C+ performance based on C- talent.

The Masquerade

Meshuggah came out and blew me away with their sonic assault. I was doubly glad or their superior session because it gave me motivation to move around because standing still was killing my feet after all the walking we had done earlier. A+ Performance on solid A talent! "Let us make the rock sounds for you now" the lead singer had a weird accent like Arnold and Elvis's baby.

After a prolonged stage set up Ministry finally took the stage around 11:30 and despite the anticipation I was promptly under whelmed. Al looked like a poor mans Ozzie in his top hat and mirrored shades, and they spun through "new material" that sounded as if it was the same song over and over. It was entertaining, but Meshuggah definitely crushed Ministry underfoot. Sorry Al, you peaked long ago it seems, and no one sent you the memo. Also as Hosie so aptly put it….giving up heroin to chain smoke….what was the point?

We exited the show and were glad for the cool night air, as heaven had taken on atmospheric conditions better suited to its counterpart. There was a line to get into the club primarily comprised of clubbers in hip hop couture, and the contrast between the metel/goth/emo scene exiting was interesting. We immediately hailed a cab and were back to our room in less than 15 minutes. The city-scape and its inhabitants made me glad we had decided to take a cab.

We left out of Atlanta on Saturday morning and stopped in at a Waffle House in Braselton Ga. for breakfast and experienced probably one of the top three Waffle House times I have ever had. The staff was attentive, friendly, and the food was perfect. Remember south on Hwy 211! We made it home sometime after 1:00 and I dropped Hosie off at his base of operations, while Kermit and I headed back to the stable.

Thought that shit was pretty funny didn't you....

     I can remember being terrified each holiday season by something that I could not comprehend. The source of my dread seemed to create no fear in anyone else, so I simply accepted its existence until my rational mind was able to mature and unlock the secrets of its true nature. May you take into consideration, at the age I experienced this holiday dread, children for the most part were more naïve and un-jaded by years of special effects and high definition images. My glimpses of this unnatural thing I feared were on broadcast television, in shoddy 70's-esqe color commercials, heralding the return of the "much loved" and "highly anticipated" "Singing Christmas Tree"! I can clearly recall seeing a vague conical shape, decorated with moving ornaments, which upon closer inspection were human heads! Then before my mind could wrap itself around what I had seen, the commercial was gone, and I was left in a state of confusion and ill ease. My parents were of no help in this matter, as my inquiries as to the nature of this thing I saw were either not understood or perceived as me being silly. Eventually I did figure it out on my own, yet my first impression still sticks. Singing heads on a huge tree will never equal Christmas to me.

They scream in horror as the Tree Sarlaac digests their lower bodies!

    The year is 1991 and by some dark twist of fate I am attending school at North Greenville College in Tigerville, South Carolina. I cannot recall if this was the school's motto when I attended, but its current motto is: "Committed to quality education in a biblically sound, Christ-centered environment".  Even if the motto was different then, I can assure you that the goals of the institution were still the same. At this time in my life I was not heavily involved with the Christian faith, other than the standard issue deference to it any survivor learns to emulate when living in the Bible belt. I attended there on the recommendation of my brother, who was a Citadel recruiter at the time. He touted the institution's reputation for providing mathematical support to underachievers in that area, allowing them to bolster their grades to attain placement in more selective universities. I often times wonder if his true motive was to inundate me in a Christian environment, but of course it would be impolite to ask. In my year there I discovered the mathematical assistance lacking, the student body to be boring, and campus life to be absent. Yet, among the insights I carried away from that institution, one I gained during a course on the Old Testament of the Bible impacts heavily on my viewpoints on faith, spirituality and the environment to this day. My instructor, when asked about the place of animal rights in the Christian faith, explained that Humankind was placed as a steward of the earth, and that the environment and everything contained in it was at Man's disposal to do with as he wished. I have discovered several biblical passages which support this stance. Chief among those often cited is from Genesis "And God blessed them, and God said unto them, be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth."
    I can clearly recall thinking that it was an illogical way to think, because it was my viewpoint that humankind was intimately bound to the planet, a part within rather than one set above the whole. Despite the lack of logic, I have to admit that it appealed to my ego to think myself lord over the whole of creation by divine decree.  Ego is a driving force in the human animal, and things that feed the animal are well received. It is doubtful the appeal of this philosophy is for me alone, and perhaps can be considered one of the many selling points of Christianity. I have always considered myself a spiritual malcontent, unable to subscribe completely to a single faith or creed for very long without adverse reaction. Yet, probably because of my upbringing, at my core I never throw too much derision at the Judeo Christian belief structure. My proven strategy of advancement in the trench warfare of life has been clearly defined as "fox-hole" to "fox-hole". Atheism or agnosticism gets very little room to flourish beneath the siege guns of my existence. It is in those times between adversities that I can step away from my core faith and criticize the methodology by which it is propagated amongst humanity, and the wrongs I feel it incurs in its organization. Yet at the times when I am safe in my cave of choice I do not wish to driven from it.
    The Christian faith encourages us to shift focus from the human animal in us all to betterment and preservation of the immortal soul. Although the severity of this instinctual denial differs from creed to creed, most promote the idea of an after life. These teachings reinforce the concept that this life is fleeting and that this world is but a testing ground before ascension to immortality. Although one might argue that the strictures of religions which attempt to govern desired behaviors toward our fellow man, would be a boon to the preservation of environment. I feel that the perception that this life is a stepping stone devalues the mortal world in favor of an immortal one, and that the focus on personal preservation, in the guise of kindness to other humans does little to promote individual perception of environmentalism. This interaction seems more like a "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" scenario than real brotherly love or concern, and focuses solely on the good of the human, not the world that sustains him.
    Organized Christian faiths seem to be particularly bad about harming the environment. Throughout the ages religion has driven expansion in the name of souls. Missionaries have spread diseases of the flesh and of the spirit around the world in a quest for souls. Entire indigenous peoples have fallen to scourges delivered in the name of faith. Cultures and their traditions, developed in and shaped by the natural environment have been abandoned for the promise of immortality. Naked jungle flesh, covered for the sake of newly learned shyness and shame, breeding bacteria that kill the newly converted. Industry often follows in the wake of religion, following the tales of abundance told by the missionaries, which is in turn followed by settlers to fill in the gaps in the local population. Forests are burned, local species are decimated, towns are constructed, and at each ones center a Church springs up. The newly introduced and converted populace passes the plate and funds further fingers of faith to probe relentlessly into the frontier. Wealth streams home to the industrialists and Cathedrals are built in their obsequiousness toward the ultimate, if not directly credited, enabler of their wanton destruction.
    It is unfortunate though, that by its very nature the Christian faith creates anti environmentalism in its adherents. Faith is demanded by believers, unconditional and unmediated. Demonstrating a concern for the environment could be ultimately viewed as contradictory to faith. If you love God, and believe in his teachings, why would you be worried about caring for something He himself destroyed in the past and promises by his Holy Scripture to destroy again? Investing in the environment takes money away from the passed plate, and from the divine works of the church. This is viewed as a sin or at best undesirable, and impact directly against the chances of assured immortality.
    Most faiths are locked in the struggle against the mercurial nature of human interests. People are finicky, and not likely to sacrifice of themselves unless the rewards are great, yet a creed must maintain certain stalwart attitudes and appearances to maintain respectability. Religions that shift constantly to accommodate the human animal, are labeled as cults, while philosophies that maintain a course, right or wrong, are seen as religion. The major religions of the world fit this model of continuity, and Christianity is no different. Looking to the historical roots of the Christian faith, a time when the population was considerably smaller and the footprint of humankind treaded lightly upon the face of the planet, it would have seemed inconceivable to anyone that man could destroy the world. That ability was solely in the hands of an omnipotent God, and book ended with creation, made up the scope of how Christian doctrine views the world. Fatalism is a bane to environmental consideration, and Christianity is besotted with it.
    If there is a supernatural source of evil in the world, working to harm humankind, I would imagine that it is familiar with a vast array of tactical strategy. One of the classic thirty-six strategies of the Chinese suggests inviting an enemy onto the roof and then removing the ladder. It seems that Christianity is luring us to mount the high roof of our world, keeping our eyes focused toward heaven, and ignorant to the damage we cause in our climb. Once we have all piled on, and our home is weighted and weakened through our numbers, if no step higher appears I doubt there will be a way for us to get back down. Even if there is a way, I envision a host of enemies that will not only remove any means of descent, but light the walls of our world afire. I doubt many can keep their eyes focused on heaven when there feet burn on the pyre of our planet. The time has come to temper faith with responsibility to the planet which hosts us, to learn how not to stumble in the here looking for the hereafter, and to recognize that we are a piece of the earth and not its master.

THE "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal -- the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.

But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death."

It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.

It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held. There were seven -- an imperial suite. In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is scarcely impeded. Here the case was very different; as might have been expected from the duke's love of the bizarre. The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at a time. There was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel effect. To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor which pursued the windings of the suite. These windows were of stained glass whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue -- and vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange -- the fifth with white -- the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. But in this chamber only, the color of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were scarlet -- a deep blood color. Now in no one of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro or depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier of fire that protected its rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly illumined the room. And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the western or black chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all.

It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to hearken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.

But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not.

He had directed, in great part, the moveable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fete; and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm -- much of what has been since seen in "Hernani." There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these -- the dreams -- writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away -- they have endured but an instant -- and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments.

But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus, too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise -- then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.

In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade license of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince's indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood -- and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.

When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage.

"Who dares?" he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him -- "who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him -- that we may know whom we have to hang at sunrise, from the battlements!"

It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly -- for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.

It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker. But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince's person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple -- through the purple to the green -- through the green to the orange -- through this again to the white -- and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him. It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all. He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry -- and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.

And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

I recently had the opportunity to acquire the new musical compilation from the fictional band DethKlok. To nay sayers I ask how is what the creative forces behind Metalocalypse produce disimilar to those behind  the "Gorillaz"? I lifted this from a wiki for the uninitiated of a show that Kyrie dubbed, in so many words, "The Metal Monkees":

"The Dethalbum is the debut album by the fictional band Dethklok from the television show Metalocalypse. It was released on September 25, 2007. The album features full-length songs from the television series, as well as previously unreleased tracks. Antonio Canobbio contributed the artwork for the record.

The deluxe edition of the album includes an additional disc that features seven bonus tracks, the video for "Bloodrocuted", and the first Metalocalypse episode of the second season.

The album debuted at 21 on the Billboard 200 chart with 33,740 copies sold in its first week. This makes Metalocalypse: Dethklok's The Dethalbum the highest charting death metal album ever. The Dethalbum was also streamed 45,000 times when it went live on AOL Music during the week of its release.

Track listing:

"Murmaider" – 3:24

"Go into the Water" – 4:20

"Awaken" – 3:37

"Bloodrocuted" – 2:18

"Go Forth and Die" – 4:21

"Fansong" – 2:52

"Better Metal Snake" – 3:26

"The Lost Vikings" – 4:26

"Thunderhorse" – 2:45

"Briefcase Full of Guts" – 2:43

"Birthday Dethday" – 2:48

"Hatredcopter" – 2:56

"Castratikron" – 2:57

"Face Fisted" – 4:17

"Dethharmonic" – 4:30

"Dethklok Deththeme" – 0:36"

The show follows the misadventures of DethKlok, a band so popular that the will of the world bends to their whim. The fact that they are idiots makes their global blundering all the more poignant. Insulated the power of their cultish corporate empire, subject only to their own greed, the band wreaks havoc everywhere they go. The hate they feel for everything is only the barest reflection of their own self-loathing.

Now, the question might be asked "What type of world would tolerate idiots in control of the economy, drunk on their own power, strutting around the world to line their own pockets, while focusing instead on the inane activities of Celebritards?"

Yeah….I know.

Just to set the stage…

You shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I the LORD your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me, but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments.

Pilgrimage

After a hiatus of nearly five years it was time for that fun-loving Marks clan to make its way to the great state of Florida to worship at that multi–acre shrine of capitalism Disney World. I am a big enough kid that I get my fair share of pleasure playing at the House of Mouse, yet the real joy comes in watching Rylie O.D. on Disney flavored fun. I was so proud of her this trip! She rode rides which scare most adults, and her scream soundtrack to Space Mountain was the stuff of legend. There were a few un-enjoyable instances of attitude, of which she has a double dose. I am witnessing the emergence of the teenager she will become and dreading all the awkwardness that will accompany it. I wonder what our next trip to Disney will be like. The drive down was uneventful, primarily plagued by swarms of black bugs and common Floridian thunderstorms. In retrospect, storms and bug swarms……is there a message there? We arrived in one piece to be greeted with high temperatures and high humidity, at the Disney "Pop Century" resort.

Pop Goes the Weasel

The "Pop Century" resort is a sprawling complex themed around the decades of the 50's, 60's, 70's, 80's and 90's. If you Google Earth the resort you will see that ground has been broken on several other similar sites surrounding a large lake. I assume these will be other decades. Work seems to have stalled on the construction though…pass the plate brother Mouse!  The resort is definitely on the lower end of the Disney resort spectrum, but that's better than 98% of other hotels so it's worth the extra cash. I have a theory that you can gauge the cost of a Disney resort by the prevalence of smoking areas.  When I smoked I practically had to go into the deep woods to find a designated area at the "Wilderness Lodge", but you had smokers at every bench at "Pop Century". This does not mean that only poorer people smoke, just that quitting could make up the difference in price to stay at a fancier resort. We stayed in 50's complex, bowling themed, with a pin shaped pool! The room was comfortable and cool. The eating area was chaotic but did provide free re-fills with the purchase of a souvenir mug. The food was above average. The Mouse knows how to provide quality food, even if it is at a premium price.

Walk the Planks!

We moved to Disney's "Boardwalk Resort" which was a lovely place to stay! Our room had a small kitchenette, and a beautiful view of the boardwalk and lake. The resort hosted several great restaurants and an excellent bakery. At this point the meal plan we had purchased kicked in and the feasting began. If you plan on making the trek to Disney anytime soon I recommend that you investigate the meal plan. We enjoyed a hearty breakfast at "Spoodles" one morning and also a first class dinner there as well. Seriously more food than one should even attempt to eat. One night we met all our folks at the "Bear Creek Pub" which boasted its own micro brewery. I drank several pints of their "Red Rocket Ale" and it got the job done. It was a crisp beer with an above average alcohol content. I found that it went nicely with my fish and with the part of Kyrie's steak I consumed. I found the bakery had chocolate croissants which one of my favorites, and blueberry muffins roughly the size of a baby head. It turns out a large portion of the vegetables used in the restaurant are grown at Epcot Center. Made me wonder what else is being grown there.

MGM (The Lion Sleeps)

Thin on attractions, long on lines! I did have a good time though. My brother in law Al and I braved the dreaded "Tower of Terror". This is a cool ride, themed after the classic show "The Twilight Zone". It's a ride of rapid ascents and drops, like a simulated elevator malfunction. Overall I would rate it a 7.5 on my personal scale of rides. We rode the "Movie Ride" which was pretty cool. Imagine riding through movies as they took place. The "Alien" portion was particularly good. Also at MGM we saw a few shows that everyone seemed to enjoy and it was a cool place to sit for awhile. Most of them were live action interpretations of Disney movies. I enjoyed touring an exhibit on Walt Disney.   I was shocked at how far Epcot center seemed to have deviated from its original parameters, or at least those laid out by old Walt. I was particularly drawn to the scale models of things in the various parks. That day we left for a while and returned later to see a nighttime show called "Fantasmic" or something like that. It was grand in that Disney style, yet I was under whelmed. I wanted more plot….it seemed piecemeal in its substance, like it had a rotating cast where certain scenes were portrayed some nights while other characters took the night off. We took off from the show a bit early to ride "Star Tours" a Star Wars simulator, which Rylie had been denied access to by Imperial edict at our last visit. It's a great ride but it's showing its age, and it was ridiculous to deny Rylie last time. At the exit there was a, get this, GIFT SHOP! I found an awesome Boba Fett hat, which was my only higher dollar, personal souvenir of the entire trip.

Epcot Center (Mission Possible)

This is the first day we met up with the rest of the group. I happen to like Epcot center a lot.  I like the scientific exhibits and the world showcase especially. There are three BADASS rides. The first, 'Soaring" is a hang glider simulation that truly sells the experience. The second, "Test Track" is cool simulator which lets you ride along as a car goes through the gamut of stress tests, and most impressive of all "Mission Space".  M.S. simulates a flight from Earth to Mars and really delivers the goods. It spins you to simulate gravitational forces while shaking to simulate turbulence, and provides you with tasks to complete while in simulation. I would rate this a 9 on my scale of rides. Several folks died from the stresses of M.S., so they made a lesser version. Stick with ORANGE! It's the only way to go to get the full experience. Rylie and I rode it for the first time together. I was proud of how well she handled herself. She is much braver than I was at that age.

We also toured the American Pavilion, which is the least visited pavilion in the entire world showcase. My theory on this is that Americans don't go because we live here, and after being at Disney, do you really think it's necessary to tell foreigners how great the U.S. is? Interestingly enough my brother in law Brendan was in the 9/11 portion of the film! I thought we could make mad ducats selling autographs, but no one else agreed.

Animal Kingdom (Welcome to the Jungle)

The A.K. had grown since our last visit and boasted many more attractions. Expedition Everest is a rollercoaster which rockets backwards and forwards through dark mountain tunnels, while you are pursued by a Yeti. Definitely scores a strong 8 on my scale! We rode the "Kali River Rapids" and got soaked. Being wet was no big deal as it poured rain on us much of the day anyway. KRR was ok, but at most a 6. Too short and no thrill for getting that wet. "Dinosaur" was a definite 8. It simulated going back in time to capture a dinosaur just prior to extinction. The ride felt like a rollercoaster, but all the effects were simulated hydraulics on the vehicle. A definite "must ride". Outside of "Dinosaur" we were approached by a park employee, who was drawn to all our matching yellow shirts. She called us the "yellow" family, and I promptly chastised her for her color blindness, as we had been telling people we were the "red" family just to be funny. It was a regrettable move on my part as it turns out she was part of Disney's "Dream Team", giving out cool stuff as part of their "Season of a Thousand Dreams".  She asked if we had ridden the Safari ride, which we promptly said we had not, and proceeded to take our entire group to the front of the line! Along the way to the ride she gave us a guided tour of the park. The ride itself is maybe a 7 with bonus points for seeing cool animals, but it was neat to get to cut the line. Oddly enough we bumped into her again and she gave us a fast pass to get on Everest again. Thanks Beth!

Magic Kingdom (Mouse House Prime)

We decided to sleep in and hit the pool that morning. I took Rylie down in to swim that morning. She went up to ride the clown themed slide. I was surprised to see he come down the slide in clown gear. Turns out she was named the something or other slide "child of the day" and was given a whole bag of clown stuff and a certificate. We eventually went to the Magic Kingdom. I could list all the rides we rode but I don't have the patience. Just think everything. As I said, we got a late start this day, but having Kerri in a wheel chair made the lines go faster. Highlights were: Mad Hatters Tea Party, Big Thunder Mountain, The Haunted Mansion, and Pirates of the Caribbean. We came back early the next day to M.K. and let Rylie participate in a "Pirate School" hosted by Captain Jack Sparrow, and to ride Space Mountain. We took a monorail to Epcot, ate lunch then, walked back to our room. I proceeded to strip to my drawers and lie under the ceiling fan, while Kerri and Rylie went to swim. I needed to get rest, for we all had a big night ahead.

Magic Kingdom Masquerade

We had purchased special passes to attend the "Not so scary Halloween Party" at the Magic Kingdom. The park closes early and mutes the cheeriness, setting a stage for a delightful Halloween event. It's nice that Disney has a stable of bad guys, because shifting the character emphasis is fun. The lighting is dark, and creepy characters start leaking out into the park. To add to the fun guests can dress up as well. Kay and Al were Jack Skellington and Sally, Kyrie was a Sorceress, Rylie was a black cat and I was a faceless ghoul. Only one problem...just because it looks like Halloween does not make it feel like Halloween. I was miserably hot and pussed out of my costume after about an hour. Everyone else trooped on through. Kay and Al were so good that folks thought they worked there. The parade and fireworks were awesome! Riding the "Haunted Mansion" in that setting added to its appeal as well. Rylie and I found a free face painting booth and they made her a convincing cat face, and made me look like a Maori tribesman. I was looking for some Finnish Dwarfs but none were around. Sorry Derek! We went into the "Monsters Inc. Laugh Floor" which uses cameras on the audience to make itself interactive. I got picked as "That Guy" and my sweaty mug was on screen at several points during the ride. I hammed it up and actually had some folks tell me I had done a good job. I got a sticker to note my roll in the show. It was a nice ending to a wonderful evening.

Last Day (Run from Carousel)

We awoke somewhat early and packed out goods, said our goodbyes and proceeded to go to "Downtown Disney" to grab a bit of breakfast before we hit the road. DD is aimed at the adult market with high end eating, nightclubs and bars. On Kay's recommendation we tried out the "Earl of Sandwich" It's like a high end sub shop, and I loved it! I had an apple wood bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich. Their bread was awesome. Had I a fat bank account DD would have been more to my tastes, but I was able to get the remaining use of my meal plan and find the Pirate pin I wanted. The drive home seemed to go quickly. We were all exhausted and personally reflecting instead of conversing. Loved seeing cockroaches running around the counter at the gas station whose coffee I was forced to purchase. We got home and it was good to be there.

Wrap up

I don't begrudge Disney Corp. at all. At least their products promote marginal innocence and comparative wholesomeness in their shameless grab for my dollar. Who can knock the benefit they provide by creating child stars, hyper crafting their images to perfection, placing them on high pedestals only to push them out of the nest to fly or fall for my enjoyment? They put a lot effort into everything they do and have high standards in what they expect from their employees. I only got attitude from a few select assholes, and felt quite within my rights to give them shit. In an environment of constant marketing one is the constant customer, and therefore always right! When I can forget for one minute what a cynic I have become and live in the moment; a childlike instance of forgotten innocence, it is really is cathartic. I get lots of opportunities for this at Disney, and it creates a face on me I like my wife and daughter to see. To all who shared this experience with me I want to say it was a blast, and I am glad you all were there. Thanks to everyone who made this trip possible!

Oh and Mickey's feet were not made of clay. It looked like poly-resin to me.

I believe in school uniforms. Perhaps this belief was grounded in the stress I experienced not always having the "right" clothes, or maybe it was my time in the military that impressed upon me the value of uniformity. Regardless of the origin, the belief is strong in me. Recently I entered into a debate on the subject with some associates and although I feel my points were expressed adequately in that arena, while they are fresh in my mind, I thought I would share them.

The first benefit I think of lies in the realm of social interaction. Sure, kids are all little bastards in some way or another. I concede the point that hazing will continue in schools as long as there are children no matter what they wear. Why would you seek to make their quest to humiliate their peers easier? Would you be in favor of providing violent inmates with knives to make the job of killing weaker inmates quicker? If you trimmed the percentage of hazing by so much as one incident, or allowed for the intermingling of socio/economic groups for a brief period a day minus the pressure of corporate agenda, would a uniform policy not be worth it?

Uniform policies are often challenged on the grounds of negatively affecting individualism. Well how much individualism and originality can you discern from a choice in outer garments? Any one with a credit card can purchase style or a look, but so often it is only a catalyst to unlock confidence. Do the clothes make the individual or does the value of the individual have to back up the clothes? Could an emphasis on developing internal value versus cultivating a look not surmount any support a style could offer? Ever heard "don't judge a book by its cover"? Face it, when has any "style" been truly original? Style ebbs and flows on the whim of the fashion elite; a whim that people starve themselves to adhere to, or hate themselves for being unable to conform to. Each time you buy a brand name item of clothing you strengthen this power. Uniform policies strike a two fold blow to this bloated powerbase. They reduce "back to school" revenue for producers, and to some degree limit the tableau of bullshit, style enslaved mentalities our children are forced into dealing with.

It's amusing to me that each designer has a rainbow of golf shirts, the only difference being the label, that people will buy one in each color for their children and then fight a uniform policy in public schools. What is the difference between wearing on brand of clothes and a uniform? Are you less of a slave for the right to choose your masters?

I have a feeling there are some contrary thoughts out there in those that will read this…so bring your best.

My recent excursion to Asheville, much like my last trip to Asheville was another special experience in my time here on earth. I had to work the day of the show, but dear cousin Phil and Mr. BW were good enough to drive to my office and pick me up promptly at two P.M. on Saturday. As I exited my work facility it cracked me up that they had popped open beers in the parking lot, right beneath the ever watchful eye of the great red machine. At least they were not drinking Pepsi products, lest the restful giant be truly roused to anger.

The drive to Asheville was a pleasant one, minus the constant harassment of a blue bug encased Tar heel female, who passed when she was not talking on her cell phone, only to slow to a crawl when she received a call. I dozed in the backseat enjoying the tunes, conversation, and playing "Back Seat Bartender" as it were. I had not seen Mr. BW in around 13 years, so it was interesting to hear what he had been up to, and to hear many of the strange paths taken by others I had known back in the day. I was introduced to the joys of dry roasted Wasabi peanuts by dear cousin, and I will be grabbing a bag soon.

We arrived around two hours later and retraced much of the same path Phil and I trekked prior to our last WEEN show. We began at Barleys Tap Room and Pizzeria, and ordered a large white pie.

I believe one slice survived our onslaught. After a few beers, and conversations ranging from old video games to current events, we were getting a bit loud and rowdy. As the weight of stares started piling on we decided to "move on up the hill" to the "Mellow Mushroom". The Mellow Mushroom was not as mellow as it was last time. Inside was hot and there was a wait for outdoor seating, despite the fact that many tables were empty, and we were only drinking. I think the wait was based on staffing, which as a consumer I find shitty. Seat me and provide me with apologetic wide spectrum service, but don't make me wait with none at all. So we downed a beer, talked about guitars and headed up the hill to the Bier Garden. The Garden was hot inside as well, but we were promptly seated, and after a bit of beer menu perusal, BW convinced us of the merits of one "Dogfish Head - 90 Minute IPA". For those like I who did not know an India Pale Ale (IPA) was the result of tremendous efforts by British brewers to overcome a difficult problem: during the 1700s beer did not keep well on long ocean voyages, especially into hot climates. These hot environments resulted in the arrival of flat, sour beer. Before refrigeration and pasteurization, the brewer's only weapons against spoilage were alcohol and hops. Alcohol provided an unfriendly environment for microbes and the hops prevented the growth of the bacteria that cause sourness. Therefore high alcohol content and high hopping rates could protect beer from the souring associated with long storage times. Mr. BW was good enough to clue me in on the history lesson. After a couple of these, followed by a Jager bomb and some hilarious, near hemorrhage inducing conversations it was 7:30 and time to go to the show.

The Thomas Wolfe Auditorium, located at the Asheville Civic Center, is a great venue if you ever get the chance to see a show there. Phil had purchased our tickets earlier and BW had gotten his later, so as fate would have it his seat was better. See the map below.

Before we went in we set up a meeting place for after the show by the statue of the little girl. Whoever was waiting was to place their black satchel in her outstretched hands. We were also seated beside an older couple who gave us some sidelong looks. Fortunately the show was not sold out and we were able to secure better seats when the show started. BW joined us a bit later, as the proximity to the stage made for a good view of the hot sax player, yet a less than stunning audio experience.

What can I say about the show other than "pure genius" the band played along with video footage of Frank himself, in such a tight manner though as to really make you feel he was present. I got lost in the complex rythems that one can only recognized as Zappa-esque. Guest vocalist Ray White, from the original Zappa crew cranked out some truly inspired soulful singing. Dweezil did his surname proud. Below is the setlist:

My Guitar
Echidna's Arf
Tiny Lights
Montana
Cheepnis
Advance Romance
Carolina
Dumb All Over
Baltimore
Pygmy Twylyte
Dupree's Paradise
Uncle Remus
Willie The Pimp
Joe's Garage
Gas Station
San Berdino
Slime
Illinois Enema Bandit

Encore:

Cosmik
G Spot
Muffin

Three hours later, we stumbled back down the hill to the car, snacked on some more Wasabi peanuts, and digested the evening's events. The car ride home was a wildly cognizant discussion on religion and the world, especially considering how buzzed we were. We made it home in good time although I will admit nodding out a bit…hey I had been up since four A.M. I laid my head down in my bed by 3.