OstrichSpeak

Ostrich - Speak... Hell what more can i say???!!!

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Rock n' Roll Children

It had been a long day for Fred Andrews. He painstakingly unlaced his calf length Black army boots and hung them up behind the door of his bedroom. He stared at them wistfully for a while, they were his pride and joy. Cost a bomb at the surplus store despite the fact that in actuality they were standard issue because there was no war going on in the world except the one he and so many of his kind were fighting. And they couldn’t do it without militia gear. It gave them an air of organization and mystique. Besides, women love a man in uniform. And like Steven Tyler said at an award ceremony, it costs a lot of money to look cheap.

So there you have it. Women, enigma and talent. The three things that made the rock and roll star, or terrorist in Fred’s case. Tough times had befallen the world of music. Consumerism had made lazy fools of the public and they were ready to swallow anything that was packaged and familiarized. People needed to know what they were buying before they bought it. Gone are the days of the joy of trial and error. The way Fred had discovered Led Zeppelin. Music was reasonable in those days and he still remembered the shiver that ran up his spine every time he bought a new tape and put it in his player. Would it be good? If he wasn’t quite sure whether he liked it or, he’d play it 10 times over till he could decide. Nobody did that anymore. Everything had to be certified and approved before they’d even go and buy it… forget taking the trouble of re-listening to it to form your own opinion. If Music star magazine gave it 5 stars, it would sell millions on the printed word alone. Unbeknown to the milling population that flitted in to the music store to buy that album that everyone just had to own, the pimply faced, overweight critic that wrote the review was sunning his voluminous posterior on his favourite beach getaway courtesy the music company.

Fred spat hard. Because of the thought of this lazy World and it’s irresponsible media and partly because while thinking so hard he’d let the toothpaste work itself into a nice rabid foam that was precariously dribbling down his chin. "Opportunists!" he thought and spat again. It was 100% minty wrath. "Damn the bastards, they’re going down."

It had begun like every other day. Wake up at 0600 hours, work out for a half hour. Cold shower to get his body moving and then 2 long hours of grueling scales and arpeggios. He played pentatonic and Hungarian and chromatic until the hard, flaky caps of his finger tips had string grooves in them and his chest developed welts. Then he picked an album from wall, today’s was permanent waves by rush and played along with Alex Liefson through every single track on the album. If he didn’t know it, he’d learn it till he could play it tight, down to the last hammer on. Thus the morning wore on. By afternoon he had his first meal of the day with Andy, Geoff and Bug in the common room of the base. There was custard today and he loved custard…plus it was hot! Great! They spent some time on composition after lunch and then lined up for assembly.

From the air it looked like row upon row of colorful tees and Black boots. On main stage stood a flamboyant creature with colorful scarves tied around his microphone. "Greetings music militia", he began, "today, we are about to set out on some very important assignments and I trust all of you have been trained to give this mission your optimum. All of you are soldiers to the cause of war and some of you may not return. But know this…you are putting your life on the line for a belief…your belief and your religion. And therefore it becomes your duty, to your soul, to protect the integrity of the music that we treasure so dearly. The music that we have grown to love and broken our backs to master. We will not be lead into blind consumerism by company dictatorship that no longer respects their fundamental function of bringing the music to the fan. So go forth with a song in your hearts. Let it be your own and let it be a song of joy and faith. "LONG LIVE ROCK AND ROLL!"

Amid cheers, grunts and calls the man pulled out his zippo, ignited it and swayed his arm from side to side. The assembly followed and it was to be seen that all of them had the words emblazoned on their lighters. A band of longhaired, boot-clad men then took the stage and began to play the song. A young man with a voice remarkably like Ronnie James dio was screaming the chorus, "long live rock and roll, let it live, let it live, let it live", with great feel to the frenzied mob. Fred and his unit picked up their arms at the silo and went over their plans one last time in the car on their way to the office of Sony Music ltd. Similar units were headed out to all the major record label offices and some even to certain radio stations.

"So you guys have got everything?", said Bug, "Guns"
"Check" , said Fred
"Explosive?"
"Check"
"Fuse, chamber and plunger?"
"Check"
"Alright then we’re ready to roll. Let’s go", said bug a drummer and like most had a need to control time. We’re going in at 1730 hours." "All set." said Andy, bassist, looking to Geoff the throat Atkins who was often given to brooding thoughts and disappearing for hours with his notepad and pencil. "Geoff, not now okay. This is important."
"Fuck you man. I’m ready", said Geoff, "and to hell with those monosyllabic illiterate fools, I hope we make them suffer like we have."
"Okay, then we’re set.", said Fred, " on the count of three we get out of the car and take position. Ready?"
"As I’ll ever be", mumbled bug under his breath.
"One…two…three…"
See how they run.

Geoff and Andy took the main entrance while Fred and Bug did a quick Reiki of the compound and joined them mid-gagging the security guard.
" We’re going to let you go man, you’re just here making a living and that’s cool. As long as you’re not directly involved with this inbred, blood sucking organization", said Geoff, always ready with a speech.
" Enough chit chat. Let’s move", said Fred
"And don’t forget that no matter which fake breasted bimbo they put on the pedestal, she’s going down sooner or later and when she does Pan and Alice Cooper will dance all over her mangled, empty soul. Remember…"
"…Aww man, you’re scaring the shit out of him. You want to make a real point and get on with this job or are you going to spend all day trying to convert this dude?", said Bug
"Remember man…" said Geoff waggling his finger at the security guard as they ran toward the Elevator.

Inside, they got busy sealing it off with explosive and spray painting ‘long live rock and roll’ all over the walls. With incredible efficiency, the fuse was rolled out of the elevator and into the parking lot and over by the side of their car.

"Okay Freddie fingers, do your thing", said Andy.
"With pleasure", said Fred, pumping the plunger…

They stood for just a fraction of a second, watching 20 stories of bad Karma come crashing down in a heap of rubble and limbs. It seemed like a lifetime before they stashed their boots and hair back into the Jeep… driving double time back to base.

There was chaos on the nine o’clock news. Every major record label had been hit around 6PM that day in the most unprecedented act of terrorism since 9/11. A few popular radio Stations and Magazine head quarters had also been razed to the ground. The president was making a speech about how the government was going to get to the bottom of this… "They will be caught, and justice will prevail", he said…

At the base, loud speakers were blaring AC/DC’s ball breaker and the JD was flowing. The crowd calmed down for a while when the colorful creature took the stage.

"First of all, you guys have done an amazing job", we’ve wiped out the big fish and now it’s up to us musicians to go out there and see to it that the distribution of music does not return to the corrupt, commercial totem of inhumanity that was. It’s up to all of you now, start studios, set up clubs, go forth and spread the goodness of music in the world. It may have been at a great cost, but it was necessary to protect the integrity and spirit of our way of life. We may look like terrorists, but we’re really just victims of a colonist regime that took our lives and made us robotic slaves to their produce. When you go your separate ways today, you will not breathe a word of what went on here and what you did. I wish you and your bands all the best of luck now that there is no more a wall between you and the people. Play live gigs, connect with people and teach them to love and not be cultural zombies. LONG LIVE ROCK AND ROLL"

"LONG LIVE ROCK AND ROLL!!!!" was the shout that filled the halls, illuminated only the light of so many flickering, waving Zippos…

5 Comments:

At 11:21 PM, Blogger JP said...

Revenge of the Hair Farmers? :)

I like the sentiment, and the idea is a great one (translation: I wish I'd thought of it first!) but this one is a bit over-wordy. The Morpheus syndrome?

 
At 2:30 AM, Blogger Ostrich said...

heHEHEhhehe!!!!!:) Morpheus syndrome! LOL!

 
At 3:40 AM, Blogger SC said...

ooh yes, great idea!
also, @ waving Zippos. i wish they actually did that. some people were sincerely waving cellphones at a concert recently. barf!

 
At 7:25 AM, Blogger forgottenmachine said...

"100% minty wrath"

That one's definitely a keeper!

 
At 10:22 PM, Blogger Jugular Bean said...

Killer funda!!

 

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