Artist Entry: Architect drummer Ant Michel contemplates a separation of media, and well, media

"You know what really Grinds My gears" not by Peter Griffin

Our diluted fake fucking Media who are too scared to ask real questions. But when it comes time to fear monger the American sheep they are right on board. How about this? I am going to form two News companies. One Called GOOD NEWS, and the other is called Are you Fucking Kidding Me? News. All the Good News will have everything good that people do in this country. You know helping elderly, foster care, adopting crack addict kids, people at a food pantry, helping your neighbor, etc. I mean honestly this list is long and sends a positive message to people who always bitch and moan that nobody does anything good, and everyone is getting shot, and gas is high, and cry me a fucking river, shut up. Life is what you put into it. If you are a miserable prick that blames everyone else for you being a loser then you will always amount to nothing and be a miserable prick.

The next is Are you Fucking Kidding Me? News. I mean really there isn't many asking the honest questions, and when people are--for example Alex Jones--its always called "Conspiracy Theory." No its just because media today and the American sheep cannot be rattled by the true thought of an honest question--and GOD forbid actually get an HONEST ANSWER--because we all know if there was an HONEST ANSWER (for example) of why we went to Iraq, this country would freak out. It's funny how our President has the lowest approval rating of all time, supposedly Al Qaeda flew planes into two buildings and yet Al Qaeda is in no way shape or form linked to Iraq (FACT), IRAQ had no WOMDs (FACT), Saddam Hussein hated Al Qaeda (FACT) and the list is long, but people still feel we are safer that we are in Iraq.

Did I just hear myself write that? Wait is that right? Haha. Wait, people even know that it was a scam -- I mean it is printed everywhere, yes even on CNN, and somehow this country is not up in arms fighting. Hmmmmm… IN WALKS Are you Fucking Kidding me News, featuring yours truly Ant, and on the road Keith. And our first question is busting in the doors of Congress and asking "WHY THE FUCK ARE THERE NO CHARGES BROUGHT UP ON THIS ADMINISTRATION?' Now you may say to yourself well there are already people doing this, yeah, but we will be on National TV. Why is it not already?

I have touched some topics today that are on a more serious note than just busting on dumb celebrities, because Keith said I am not serious enough. So this article of "You know what really grinds my gears" is just 10 percent of my anger. The other 90 percent is spent on drums. I hope you have enjoyed this story, and if not you are a little jerk.

Tony Danza, Animosity interviews on Metal Injection from New England Metalfest

Tony Danza





Animosity

Artist Entry: Architect drummer Ant Michel isn't all that kosher

You know what really grinds Ant's gears?

Nobody's come up with a new priest and a rabbi joke in like 30 years. Ya know? I mean, okay, ah, umm. Priest and a rabbi go, go onto the supermarket, and, uh, the priest wants to buy a ham. And the rabbi says, "Ah, I can't eat it. It's forbidden." Couldn't eat it. Not allowed, pigs are like superheroes to them. Is it perfect? No, but I, I don't see you coming up with anything. And that people is what grinds my gears.

Artist Entry: Tony Danza vocalist Jesse Freeland is William Shakespeare reborn

Roses are red, violets are blue...

The sun was hot today and made my neck red.
The ground was still kind of wet cause it had rained earlier.
If you don't have the new GTA yet go get it, 'cause it is amazing!
I love my dogs and now I have to go mow the yard before 5 p.m., so I can make it to the gun range before it closes.
Thanks for your time.
P.S. go buy the new Carrie Underwood........

Tony Danza mentions Tony Danza Tapdance Extravaganza on "The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson."

Artist Entry: the_Network guitarist Kevin and a trip down DWI memory lane

This guy's been drunk before? You're kidding!

Jesus Christ, I had a lot of good times drinking and driving in my day. From about the ages of 20 to 24, one of my favorite activities was getting behind the wheel on a sunny day, cracking a 40 oz. King Cobra or Colt 45, putting on some fucking Coalesce, Converge, Red Chord, or Deadwater Drowning, and just seeing what would happen. I’d usually have some equally morally corrupt buddy in shotgun packing bowls of weed and rewinding sick breakdowns while I turned the cockpit of my '96 Jeep Cherokee into a CBGB’s show. We’d be furiously checking our pagers for responses from young girls from rusty families wasting their time at one or more of the numerous parties around town while guzzling malt liquor in a fog of THC and turning the CD player up until the plastic speaker coverings shivered in terror.

Maybe I’d be just getting out of class, getting out of work, or we’d be leaving band practice. Whatever the situation was; beer, high speed, drugs, sex, violence, and the hardest of hardcore were on the menu. Perhaps I’d have some naïve girlfriend with me. The time I was pounding a 40 oz, heading to KFC, getting some serious oral attention from a lovely young blonde, and listening to BIG L rhyme, “I put my nut sack…back where your lungs at, lil’ ho,” was a memorable one. The moment was made even more poetic when I heard a muffled giggle from beneath the steering wheel rise up over the head-bopping DJ Premier beat.

The time Deadwater Drowning got me arrested on my birthday was glorious. A bunch of us underachieving, know-it-alls went to see Dave Attell at the Hampton Beach Casino on one of my birthdays (who’s counting?) and decided to pre-game in the parking lot with the Deadwater Drowning CD cranked beyond ridiculous levels while passing around enough hard liquor to give John Bonham’s corpse a chubby. I think the cops could hear Nate Johnson screaming, “You…You’re waking up…to…do…this…all over again!!” along with five or six boozed up knuckle heads all the way from the station and, rightfully so, the cops approached our car with that “Are you fucking kidding me?” look on their faces. It was an arrest of comical proportions. We were told to pay a small fine and released just in time to see Dave Attell take the stage. (As you can see, BMA has played a viral role in my life since its inception and I’ve been grateful ever since.)

So yea, I’d constantly find myself in and out of those types of situations, and I’d experience it all with a hearty laugh and a hazy mind. And yea, I’d get pulled over. I mastered the art of cop communication and was able to evade the long menacing arm of the law for quite some time. I had all the essentials in my cockpit; cologne, gum, a respectable right-wing talk radio show on a preset station, various hiding places throughout the dashboard, and the devastating puppy dog eyes and smile of a young kid who “really meant well.” I had all the field tests down. I could touch my nose with my eyes closed, recite the alphabet backwards convincingly enough, and walk in a straight enough line. I even had a whole persuasive rap about my distrust of breathalyzers; how they’d pick up on acidic drinks like juice and how they’d get you because of cough medicine or mouthwash. I actually had two cops tell me, “Well, we know you’re drunk but can’t prove it. Get outta here.” Oh yea, I was on point. I was charming snakes, swimming with sharks, walking a beer-soaked tight rope, and then I actually slowed down.

Around the ages of 25 to 27, I greatly reduced my participation in what was once such a hallowed activity of mine. It was getting risky and my living situation didn’t really enable or even require such abrasive actions. I even thought to myself, “Wow, I made it through all that ridiculous shit without getting a DWI.” Dozens of people I knew with far less dedication to the craft were piling up DWI’s and there I was, with a fairly clean record and slowing down. I thought I’d made it. I saw no D’s, W’s, or I’s on the horizon. And then, in May of last year, during what could honestly be considered one of my most innocent of attempts, the police badges rained down.

We played a show two and a half hours north of our “jamspot” in Vermont. The venue wasn’t even a bar. We went to a restaurant/pub across the street for some food and drinks. I had about five beers and a shot or two of Jack then headed over to the venue. We hung out drinking water and waiting to play. We played and any buzz I may have developed was sweated out. We had already enacted the “no drinking in the van” law by then so I had about three hours to completely sober up on the ride back. We got back to the "jamspot" around 2:30 a.m. and I felt as if I hadn’t had anything to drink. In past situations, when I did feel a bit tipsy, I’d sleep it off in the "jamspot" for a few hours before driving home. This time, however, I felt fine enough to drive home without incident. I even thought that if I did get pulled over, the cops wouldn’t even think I had been drinking. So around 3 a.m., we all left in our individual cars out of the parking lot. Unfortunately, I was last in line and right when I pulled out, I saw the cop across the street pull behind me.

At this time of night, I knew I’d be getting pulled over. They got me over to the side of the road. Upon their approach, I realized that it was two officers I had never seen around town (we’ve gotten to know most of them well). Their attitudes and body language lead me to believe that they were planning on arresting me right when they saw me leave the parking lot. I did all the field tests perfectly and was beyond cooperative. Even when they tried to get under my skin, I cooperated like they were family. They asked about the breathalyzer, I gave me spiel, and they weren’t having it. I knew that even though I hadn’t had anything to drink in over five hours, the breathalyzer could still nail me. These cops were out for blood. I’ve had experience in this type of situation and, trust me, these guys were fucking pricks. I saw them getting frustrated as I continually performed the field tests perfectly. I did their little Vaudeville act a little too well. Fed up, one cop said, “You’re under arrest.” I remained disgustingly cooperative until a very good friend of mine picked me up at the station around 4:30 am.

After a year with no license, trial postponements, varying employment, understanding friends, money thrown at a lawyer, and too many headaches, my trial is in two weeks on June 5. I have no idea what’s going to happen and I’m not looking forward to it. The only positive thing I can get out of this whole thing is by asking, “Where the fuck were you guys four or five years ago?!”

Artist Entry: The Indomitable Iron Sloth main man Justin Godfrey sees the mark of the beast in Scrooge McDuck

The Iron Sloth cometh
Art by: Jake Estes

So it occurs to me that I don't have any real inspiration -- when it comes to music at least.

I just know how I arrived here, and the pivotal moments that nudged me in this direction. Sometimes I think it was because the time that all the neighborhood kids were piling into the suburban to go see the "Duck Tales" movie, "The Treasure of the Lost Lamp" for Christsake!! I'd been waiting at least a year to see this movie, and considering the fact that I was only 7-years-old, that was like 15% of my lifetime. But oh no, "Lost Lamp" implies that a Genie might be inside and of course everyone knows that genies are a form of black magic, and God is not into that at all. A tear rolled down my face as the Suburban backed down that driveway.

I eventually saw the movie a couple of years later after the genie embargo had been lifted, since Mom was a Robin Williams fan and his groundbreaking role in "Aladdin" opened the door to cartoon witchcraft for me.

But the damage was done, the invisible hand of fate, guardian of life's backroads and dead ends, pushed me further down the path of destruction that had begun years earlier with a commercial for deaf people. The end of the commercial featured the sign for love, which when attempted by my 5-year-old digits, looked more like the devil horns. I was physically informed that I was never again to make the sign of the devil, but the real underlying message was already planted in my mind. I ran upstairs to hide in my closet, but I knew it was no use, I prayed for forgiveness, still I knew in the back of my mind there was no hope for me. No amount of being a good boy in God's army could ever outweigh the transgression of making the goat horns, swearing an unspoken oath to Satan. I had no future beyond this life. I was going to go to hell.

Artist Entry: Architect drummer Ant Michel needs a little rubbin' and tuggin' for writin'

A writing process only comparable to ancient Greek philosophers

We felt we would bring in Justin Bateman and Doogie Howser to help with the writing process. At a local rub and tug we decided this wasn't such a great idea because all they do is stare at us. We fired them. While eating an amazing mess of Bruschetta that Keith made from leftovers in the Kitchen of infamous Mike Palmer LCC, we decided another rub and tug was needed. So we went to the local trailer park to look for one. We feel the best rub and tugs are from those that are less fortunate and really fat. Why you ask?? Because they don't get anything and when it does happen they make it last like it’s the last day on earth -- get what I mean?

We were done. We then went back to practice at Palmers LCC house, because we practice in the attic, we have one week left there and then we now have here to practice -- typical Architect. We feel playing in the nude gets us in a Zen like mood and allows the writing process to flow like the leak on Joe Mamma's wiener.

As we finish the songs and tighten things to get ready for Jocko at More Sound, we felt like "Ghost of the Salt Water Machines" will out do "All is Not Lost." We can only assume the money made on this album will help pay BMA back, and leave some leftover for eyeliner, girl pants, and plenty more rub and tugs, 'cause you know what Architect and Bill Cosby say, "there's always room for JELL- rub and tugs……"

Ant

the views and opinions on this blog are from Ant. They do not reflect the views and opinions of anyone else in Architect, but I don't give a shit, because they didn't take the time to write anything so I did…

Artist Entry: Dance Club Massacre vocalist Nick Seger and the second installment of random blasts

El Randomo Blasto: Numero dos

Buenos Dias Black Market Activities Blog fans! Seger here once again to give you RANDOM FUCKING BLAST! Pardon my foul mouth but I'm trying to make a point.

It has recently been drawn to my attention how much the metal kids and other types of girl pants goombas love swear words. Swear words sell. And not JUST swear words. Like my fellow BMA co-worker from Animosity, Leo, put it best - It's all about the big block letters boys and girls.

We had a show across the street from Animosity in Cleveland, OH. A bunch of kids standing in front of OUR venue ran over and bought a SHIT load of First Blood hoodies. I’m standing there minding my own business and here come seven or eight dudes and one chickity frolicking back to our home base dressed in bright red sweatshirts with swear words on them. In no way do I have a problem with this at all -- No problem with the band, no problem with kids having a blast buying merch from one band they really like and then running back to our show -- I'm just making an observation here. All of the fests, all of the tours, all of the shows I see gold foil shirts and big block lettering with swear words. Well in the words of Rocko the Wallabee: "That tears it!" If my friends Reel Big Fish don't mind selling out, then neither do I! We are going to get gold foil shirts! And big block lettered hoodies with the colors neon green and uh red or something. And they are going to say, "Dance Club motherfucking cock sucking bitch a$$ tittie slapping Massacre." And maybe we will add the word "broseph" on the back just for good measure. These are just some ideas.

Mitch, guitarist of my band, wrote a blog recently about his favorite TV show "Lost." I didn't read it. But I bet you did! So, I have a few things to say about MY TV shows. What is the deal with Regal turning out the lights on "Monday Night Raw?" And why is Triple H still feuding with Orton? And why are we seeing yet again the sequels to HBK vs. Jericho, JBL vs. Cena, Taker vs. Edge. If WWE thinks we are stupid and don't have a long term memory, then why the hell are they selling old school DVDs like the history of the AWA, Dusty Rhodes's entire carreer, etc. Think about it jackasses. I swear to God I can write better then those morons. If I were Vinny Mac, Santino Marella would get the biggest push ever. The man is a genius. Kendrick would turn heel on London. Bring Colt Cabana up from development already! Fire Shannon Moore! Give Elijah Burke a title, and a lot of promo time. For God sakes this is just basic knowledge, am I right?
Also, I have to say BOO-FUCKING YAH Tim Duncan! Just watched game six last night Spurs vs. Hornets. I love Timmy Duncan and I want to see the Spurs kill them damn Wasps. Boston is going all the way. Next year look out for Drew Gooden (Osama Beard Gooden) and the Bulls bitches. Our time has come, again.

Back to my love for wrestling. I've heard a lot of talk about Emmure lately. Being on the road venue after venue the promoters and the bands and kids always say Emmure was just here and they packed the place. This brings me to their "Total Nonstop Action Wrestling" deal. First off, kudos Emmure. That is the coolest thing I have ever heard of. Olympic Gold Medalist Kurt Angle found them and praised them. He is on their new album cover. TNA promotes the guys. Furthermore, Kurt Angle was on TNA last week wearing their shirt. So I have an idea. We shall feud with Emmure! We’ll send Samoa Joe a package of our shit. He won't like it I am sure, but imagine if the Samoan Submission Machine wears our shit? Dance Club Massacre "Circle of Death" featuring Samoa Joe on the front cover tearing shit up. Boo yah, we get TNA promotion. Then finally in a few months in a steel cage it will be a war games elimination style match. Kurt Angle and Emmure vs. Samoa Joe and Dance Club Massacre. Then my dreams can come true by breaking into the music business and the wrestling business at the same time. So Emmure if you read this... We are coming for you big daddy! Come hell or high water! Without a shadow of a doubt! Make no mistake about it! Blood will be shed! Bones will be shattered! Let the mind games begin! And that’s the bottom line, because Dance Club Massacre said so! Because it's just a matter of time we meet you guys in the six sided steel cage, and we're gonna crrrrrrush ya! Whatcha gonna do, when our new gold foil shirts, our haunting keys, and our shredding guitar licks run wild on you!? If ya smelllllllllllllllllllllll what DCM... is cooking.

Fuck high gas prices ;)

Artist Entry: From a Second Story Window voclaist Will Jackson is surrounded by "Charlie"

WHOOOOOO THE WEEKEND!

Welp. It is here and I am stoked, the weekend. We have been planning a lake trip for a few weeks now and it has finally arrived. The Jet Ski's are gassed, as well as the boat, and the wake boards are geared up for some much needed slick water gliding and fun. I have been working like a dog lately so this trip is actually very much needed for my personal psyche.

What have you been doing while on your break Will? You may ask.

The answer. Working with a crew putting up vinyl siding on an insanely huge house with rather odd angles and lofty heights that have tested my endurance for such things, in a rather richly neighborhood sitting among other houses of similar tastes and sizes all the while adorning the sidelines of a top notch golfing establishment. Boy have I seen some good shots off of the 16th green these past few weeks.

It has really been a fun job, working with competent folks full of experience, who do not mind sweating in the sun, letting a newbie get his licks in, and telling stories of days past and memories earned to pass the time. I've heard so many old Vietnam stories I am beginning to feel like ol' Oliver Stone himself. I swear, I must laugh at least a thousand times a day hearing the guys speak of trips to the "Californi-YES-YOU-CAN", a wild whore house located deep inside a Vietnam township just outside of a fellow workers barracks, word is they used to do their best to, after receiving well earned (and payed for) felatio by a young woman, convince the new guys on base to go in for a kiss.

I also heard that the proper place to dispose of young G.I. goo is under the mattress, just a simple lift and spit and no one would ever know you were there. Ugh. Now the tears and side stitches come on while hearing of bear hunting stories where another fellow worker, who is quite hard of hearing, especially amidst extreme external noise, i.e. harsh winds, traffic, public gathering spots, etc., was hunting and due to the harsh, loud winds, walked right up on a bear and proceeded to, "...drop my gun, shit my pants, stand like a stunned monkey for what felt like thirty minutes, then come to and grab my gun and shoot the fuck out of that mother fucker!"

It don't get no better than that folks. Well, that is until you are spread eagle wearing nothing but shorts and your chest hair getting a tan from our own glorious sun, while awaiting you next ride on some sort of aquatic fun having vehicle or device. Yes, the lake, the water, the music, the women, the beers, the pot, the smiles, the laughs, and the good times HERE I COME!

Yaw have a good weekend!

One love.

Wheel Jackson

Artist Entry: Architect drummer Ant Michel has beef with Lindsay Lohan

You know what really grinds Ant's gears?

This Lindsay Lohan. Lindsay Lohan with all those little outfits, jumping around there on stage, half-naked with your little outfits. Ya know? You're a... You're out there jumping around and I'm just sitting here with my beer. So, what am I supposed to do? What you want? You know, are we gonna go out? Is that what you're trying to - why, why are you leaping around there, throwing those things all up in my, over there in my face? What do you want, Lindsay? Tell me what you want? Well, I'll tell you what you want, you want nothing. You want nothing. All right? Because we all know that no woman anywhere wants to have sex with anyone, and to titillate us with any thoughts otherwise is - is just bogus.

The views and opinions on this blog are from Ant. They do not reflect the views and opinions of anyone else in Architect, but I don't give a shit, because they didn't take the time to write anything so I did…

Artist Entry: Dance Club Massacre guitarist Mitch Hein is a surviving member of the Oceanic six, or is that seven?

"Maybe the dog can find water. I mean, dogs can find pot and bombs, so I'm sure they can find water." - Hurley

“How the fuck do you move an island?!”

Mitch from Dance Club Massacre here. As I sit here typing this, I’m anxiously counting down the minutes to the first hour of the "LOST" Season four finale this Thursday night. It’s kind of like the counter in the Swan Station, but with 1,440 minutes instead of 108, and without that annoying beeping sound.

How do they get off the island?! Why do they need to go back?! Who is in the coffin?! What is the smoke monster?! Why is Kate so hot?! These are just a few of the things I ask myself daily.

Week after week new mysteries unfold that usually aren’t answered for a loooong time, so if you don’t have any patience, I wouldn’t suggest trying to watch this show. However, try watching the first three seasons on DVD all in a row for days straight without sleeping. It’s pretty crazy.

Originally this season was supposed to have 16 back to back episodes, but the writers' strike caused a hiatus after the first seven. At first, this was awful - What was I going to do without "LOST?" In the end though, the writers' strike helped progress the storyline much faster than planned. When it came back, the original 16 episode schedule was cut to 14, which meant more content in fewer episodes. I finally started getting some answers! Until this past week, my mind was blown once again.

After Locke, Ben, and Hurley found Jacob’s cabin in the jungle, Locke was told that in order to save the island, they have to move it. How the fuck do you move an island?!

Well according to what I’ve seen in the promos and sneak peeks, they are heading to another DHARMA Station called The Orchid. Over the summer at Comic-Con, an orientation film for The Orchid was shown. In the video Dr. Edgar Halliwax is shown holding a white rabbit with the number 15 on it. During the presentation something happens and another white rabbit with the number 15 on it appears in the background and everyone starts freaking out and saying, “Don’t let them see each other!”, inferring that it’s the same rabbit but from a different period in time. It’s rumored that The Orchid is used for time travel/teleportation.

So does this mean they are going to physically move the island to a different place? Or are they going to move it in time to the past or future? Are other versions of every character going to appear out of nowhere? I don’t even want to think about how any of this is possible. This show just keeps getting crazier and crazier.

I guess this whole moving the island thing might explain why in the last episode, during Ben’s flash-forward, Charles Widmore says that the island belongs to him but Ben tells him he will never find it - even though Widmore’s men are currently on it (in island time). This implies that they will successfully move the island, but how? Also, what happens to everyone that wasn’t rescued?

So far my theory is that the Oceanic six will get off the island, and immediately after that, Locke and Ben will successfully move the island. This would explain why only the first group of six will make it off, because they won’t be able to find it again. Its said that Season five is most likely going to be about the Oceanic six trying to get back to the island, and then Season six will be them making it back and doing whatever it is they were supposed to do there - since its been implied from day one that they were there for a special purpose and weren’t supposed to leave the island in the first place.

I mean, why did they want to leave the island anyway? There are houses with running water and electricity, a decent amount of food, wine, and beer to go around, you’re right on the ocean, you don’t have any responsibilities…fuck man, take me to this island now!

Artist Entry: the_Network guitarist Kevin and the truth behind the boob tube

“Where the press is free, and every man able to read, all is safe.” –Thomas Jefferson. 1817

News.

News is what happened or will happen, right? Well, no, it isn’t. News is what someone says it happened or will happen. A healthy democracy is dependent on a well informed citizenry. That is a regularly agreed upon statement among objective people. When we, as citizens, are aware of what is going on in our country and the rest of the world, we’re in a better position to decide what we want from our leaders. The problem is that power hungry people know this as well. The Russians tried to control behavior, the U.S. government wants to control opinion, and the U.S. mass media rarely hesitate to give them a hand. So we need news and we get news, but who’s giving it to us and what’s their motivation? Who pulls the strings at our news sources? In order to answer these questions, one must first look at who’s in charge.

Let’s look at television. Basically, all networks (besides my band) are owned by a handful of huge conglomerates with billions of dollars and plenty of international interests. (*The following companies own far more channels than what is listed, but I’ll mention only their news outlets and Comedy Central.) AOL/Time Warner owns CNN, Headline News, and 37.5 % of Comedy Central. General Electric owns NBC, CNBC, 50% of MSNBC (w/ Microsoft), has stakes in regional news channels, and NBC and CNBC in Europe and Asia. Viacom owns CBS and 50% of Comedy Central. Disney owns ABC. News Corporation owns Fox and the Fox News Channel. Bertelsmann owns almost all of the channels in Europe. Those companies, along with Sony, Vivendi, and AT&T, basically own everything you see on TV. (*Google “The Big Ten” to see the ridiculous amount of crap these conglomerates own.) Many of the above mentioned stations share interests in a variety of channels, newspapers, radio stations, magazines, etc. Personally, I get sick thinking of how much they own. I own some guitar stuff, some jeans, and whatever t-shirts bands are nice enough to give me (hint hint).

This kind of ownership can greatly affect a news channel’s output. For example, NBC’s “Today Show” deleted a reference to the General Electric Company from a report on shoddy products that was televised November 30, 1989. NBC is a subsidiary of RCA, which is owned by General Electric. Also, GE has secured millions of dollars in defense and military contracts, earning itself a place among notorious war profiteering companies. With this in mind, how critical of U.S. military interventions are NBC, CNBC, and MSNBC really going to be? Many of the above mentioned companies’ CEO’s are staunch conservatives and have interests in other organizations that benefit from war. For example, CBS has board members from the Amoco Corporation and NBC shares board members with J.P. Morgan & Company. J.P. Morgan & Co. helps manage $290 billion of the Sabah family’s money in Kuwait. Perhaps that could help explain why the U.S. Government ignored Saddam Hussein’s atrocities until he invaded Kuwait, a huge U.S. cash cow.

This is why the overused “liberal media” label just kills me. Conservatives love to look at journalists and call the company they work for “liberal.” You know, those Volvo-driving, latte-drinking, tree-hugging liberals controlling the media. How many times have you heard conservative talk show hosts blaming the “liberal media” for making Bush look like an idiot? (A fucking one-year-old could do that.) Even Bill Clinton whined to Rolling Stone that he did not get “one damn bit of credit from the knee-jerk liberal press.” And of course, George W. Bush complained that the media “are biased against conservative thought.” If the U.S. mainstream media were biased against conservative thought, they wouldn’t exist!

Follow the dollars, find the problem. You want the news? A few people are getting rich controlling vital information and millions of people are getting dumb listening to what billionaires want them to. I mean, 1% of the U.S. population owns 50% of the stocks! I could go on and on and probably will in my next few blogs. So, if you’re bored by thinking, don’t tune in here, tune into your television.

*Yea, I used some sources for this blog, but this isn’t college, so I ain’t citing shit.

ALTERNATIVE NEWS SITES

Fairness and Accuracy in reporting: www.fair.org

Independent Media: www.indymedia.org

Public Citizen: www.citizen.org

Non-Violence Web: www.nonviolence.org

Voices in the Wilderness: www.nonviolence.org/vitw

School of the Americas Watch: www.soaw.org

Global Exchange: www.globalexchange.org

Earth Justice Legal Defense Fund: www.earthjustice.org

World Trade Observer: www.worldtradeobserver.org

Online Anarchist Community: www.infoshop.org

Missionary Service News Agency: www.misna.org

The Emperor’s New Clothes: www.tenc.net

Third World Newsreel: www.twn.org

One World.Net: www.oneworld.net

Third World Network: www.twnside.org.sg/

“April 16”: www.a16.org

Side note from Moderator: If you want to see who owns what, check out the Web site for the Columbia Journalism Review.

Artist Entry: Hi. I'm Guy Kozowyk, and I'm addicted to 'Brickbreaker'

Just another day at the office

I've been trying to get all of my bands to participate in this blog and wouldn't you know it, the hypocrite I am, I had never contributed one myself. Until now!!! This entire tirade is inspired by the fact that it's Saturday night and I just beat "Brickbreaker" on my phone (the shitty, but super addicting pong-type game that comes pre-installed on every Blackberry).

The weekends have always been associated with wild nights out, friends and partying. Until you're away on tour eight months out of the year for seven years straight and all your old buds who would've started calling at 5:01 p.m. on Friday afternoon to see what's up for the weekend assume that you aren't going to be around and stop calling. Eventually, you lose touch and you become the outsider to poker night, pay per view get togethers and general debauchery. You just have to hope you'll find a female who is dumb enough to put up with the abusive schedule and deal with the lack of companionship so you ensure yourself something to do when you get home. And if that isn't available, thankfully God created video games for children, teenagers, college kids, the late-twenty something record label owner/band guys....losers of all ages!

I got back from a tour with Converge, The Red Chord, Genghis Tron and Coliseum about a week ago. I've been completely exhausted and slammed by all the regular catch up work. To decompress, I've found myself buried in a handful of video games. When I was out in Los Angeles, I found a new best friend in a kid named Travell who works for EA Sports who hooked me up with a short stack of Xbox 360 games-- "Army of Two," "The Orange Box" and "Battlefields 2." The night I got home, my brother Michael and I played "Army of Two" start to finish on the easy level. It was fun primarily because of the brotherly bonding experience associated with the four hours of non-stop terrorist killing, but the lack of bosses and a disappointing end sequence infuriated me to the point where I don't know if I will ever play it again.

Most games I can't just casually play. I'll go eight months without touching a controller before having a three-day binge with no sleep. Mike started the "Orange Box," which is actually three or four games in one including "Half Life" and "Portal." After finishing "Army of Two," I just couldn't stand to be in front of the television any longer and watching the 3D strategy game, "Portal" was giving me a headache. I made some comment about why anyone would want to play this mind-numbing game with no enemies whatsoever. I'm making my escape back to my workload when he drops the life ruining comment, "Ever play the 2D Portal on the computer? It's pretty wild." He tells me to search Addictinggames.com and sure enough I find it seconds later. I should never have even looked.

ADDICTING GAMES DOT COM! Of course it's going to ruin your life. It's like trying to casually shoot heroin or something. It just doesn't work like that. Next thing you know, I'm glued to the computer for hours cursing out whoever game up with this retarded 30 level game. It was probably two sleepless nights later when I finally beat it and wanted to put a gun in my fucking mouth over yet another frustrating end sequences.

Which finally brings me to tonight and "Brickbreaker." I got a new phone with this little curse installed on it a couple months ago and on many occasions I find myself bored and killing time with this basic pong-style "hit the ball at the bricks and try to break them. Repeat." You pick up weapons along the way like lasers and multiple balls and for the first 13 stages it is smooth sailing. And then it just kicks in to life ruining mode where it's pretty much impossible.

Since I'm having the video game binge week, I picked up "Brickbreaker" this evening and went for it and in some stroke of luck, I actually made it through all 34 stages within two tries. I'm about to spoil it for everyone-- the game just fucking starts over!!! Like Dr. Mario repeating over and over and over and over on level 24 regardless of what speed you have it on or how quick you kill the shitty viruses, it just starts over. No end screen. No congratulations. Wouldn't you know it, your name goes on this giant top score chart -- my best score ever still leaving me in 42,566th place. I didn't even crack the top 20,000!!! Even when I win I'm a loser! Seriously, I'm not the type of guy to go throwing fits or punching walls, but my Blackberry almost went out the window in a fit of nerd rage.

So that's it. My first official blog. I'm going to attempt to hide from video games for a while. And my Xbox Live gamer tag is SQUASH YOU, so now no one has to MySpace me and ask, or you can leave feedback about how I was terrible at the game or I talked shit to your 8-year-old brother on the headset during "Gears of War" tournaments. I swear, if as many people bought something from the BMA Web store as message me on MySpace about what my gamer tag is, I'd be a rich man.

Thanks for your attention.

Artist Entry: From a Second Story Window vocalist Will Jackson is surrounded by word vomit

Photo by: Enrique Parrilla from C.S.I.

Sounding Pissed and Stuff...

I'm really tired of trying to be intelligent and forward thinking around those folks out there who aren't, or have no desire to be so. It's fucking unbearable sometimes. You chill, talk, listen, and then BOOM!, you realize that what you have been paying attention to is complete filler and meaningless, no weight whatsoever. It's a travesty that no one cares about relevant topics anymore, or to be more direct, cares about the wrong things all together and then feels that sharing this misinformed nomenclature is actually important and valid, or worth talking about with other human beings. Far too many people are content being ignorant and useless in the social system that they are bringing it down day by day, word by word.

Please don't get me wrong by thinking that I feel this way about everyone out there, that's not the case. I just have had far too many conversations, aka wastes of time, with people who spout shit out of their mouths without an ounce of rhyme or reason behind it. These people are the ones out there who talk to you soulely to speak about themselves or to put down another race (this includes all forms of racial and social prejudice) or to try and connect with you just because they think they will gain something to benefit their own lives, or perhaps they just want to share with you just "how fucking wasted they were last night, man." UGHHH... Does this rip anyone else's soul apart or is it just me? I mean, come on!

I also often wonder if half the people out there are even interested in being themselves at all. Do they really give a shit that they come off as just another pawn lagging behind, ruining the game, while the world's opponents are screaming for them to move? And yes, perhaps I do harp on this idea too often, but FUCK man, it's totally valid in the world we are alive in. The drolling population as a whole is copacetic to the point of disaster and lately it seems that it is beyond human repair.

"Hey Will, did I tell you about what my cat did the other day, man. Oh, shit. He totally jumped over my coffee table, man. Whoa!"

PLEASE GOD MAY I NEVER HAVE TO HEAR THAT STATEMENT EVER AGAIN!

I'm sorry, I guess I am a little wound up today. But if you are out there and you can feel me on this, and are fed up with people who are compliant with the way things are, then please do yourself a favor and go to your refrigerator, open a beer, light a smoke, and kick your feet up, because you have earned it just for being someone who understands that meaningless bullshit does not equate to meaningful conversation, or life for that matter. WHEW!

Im done. Sorry.

Will

Artist Entry: Animosity vocalist Leo Miller's five-second rant

Big block letter t -shirts. What's the deal? I guess bands thought
it wasn't enough to remove all creativity from their music so they had
to stop putting artwork on their merchandise.

Boycott the trend!

Artist Entry: Animosity vocalist Leo Miller gets down with friends of the wicked clowns

Cleveland Ohio -- the shit is fucked up.

Our show got moved to some small town right outside of the city because the original venue closed its doors about a week earlier -- probably something to do with underage drinking. Coincidentally, the corner opposite the club that we are playing was hosting a show that was also moved last minute and our buddies Psyopus were playing along with Dance Club Massacre.
Two shows with the same audience on the same block in the same small town. Needless to say, the crowd was spread pretty thin at both shows. The sick joke of it all is that people from the Psyopus show kept coming over to our show to buy merch from First Blood but weren't even there for the set.

The promoter of our show realized his mistake and offered everyone from our tour free entrance to his other show across town to make up for the scheduling blunder. This other show happened to be a performance by Ill Bill, Paul Wall and Tech N9ne. I was excited because I have always had some curious interest in the Juggalo world and I knew that Tech N9ne was down with the clown. Furthermore, it had to be more fun that the shot gig we just played.

I got "searched" at the door before entering and the security dude failed to find the huge knife clipped in my pocket. This was somewhat discomforting because I have heard stories about how crazy these wicked clown events can get. I walked in to find pretty much exactly what I expected, which turned out to be even less exciting in the end.

The place was completely packed. The majority of the crowd was fat sweaty white guys with Lebron James jerseys many of whom were fully face painted and sporting some sort of Juggalo, hatchet-man tattoo or necklace. There were lots of guys with braids, weird contact lenses and a ton of super scandalous fat chicks. By the time I arrived, most of the crowd was really sweaty and the face paint had smeared into some wet gray mess. Straight up, Paul Wall and Ill Bill sucked -- just simply garbage -- but Ill Bill was wearing a Cannibal Corpse "Tomb Of The Mutilated" shirt, which was killer.

I was surprised to see Tech N9ne play after Paul Wall because that dude has all kinds of huge MTV hits and Tech N9ne has almost no media support, but I guess it was the power of the hatchet.

Feeling out of place, I left the show pretty quickly, but I realized something. Our show sucked, meanwhile these guys wearing clown paint are riding around in a shiny nightliner, filling every club they play with people who are all wearing their shirts and hockey jersey's that can cost up to $200.

What the fuck is going on? What talent do these fucking clowns have? That being said, what I realized is that I need to start wearing some God damn clown paint and start living "crazy."

With the way these past few shows have been, you might be seeing Animosity make that change sooner than later. Until then, I guess we'll keep it brutal.

Artist Entry: the_Network guitarist Kevin jabs the American idle

Forget the hacked off limbs. Forget about “Collateral Damage.” Forget the coffins. Forget the record oil profits. Forget the big contracts. Forget the widows and orphans. Forget the U.N. Sanctions. Forget the infrastructures! Forget all the valid reasons to storm the White House lawn.

Gasoline is $4 a gallon!

I get scared when the administration seems either too stupid or too lazy to even keep gas prices reasonable. Seriously.

Gas prices; the one thing that has the most effect on the most Americans, and the monarchy can’t, or won’t, keep them down. Have we become that passive; that complacent?

What also frightens me are many Americans’ reactions to the increased prices. The issue becomes another one of those annoying little conversation lubricants we love to whine to each other about. The planet’s natural resource, oil, and all that encompasses, is reduced to water cooler fodder. The most incendiary topic on the planet has been given a slot right between "American Idol" and baseball.

So forget water-boarding. Forget Guantanamo Bay. Forget Hurricane Katrina. Seriously, forget FEMA. Forget yellow cake and Valerie Plame Wilson. Forget the 9/11 Report. Forget Group Think. Forget the “liberal media.” Forget wire taps. Forget the orange and red terror levels. Forget Halliburton and Lockheed and Martin. Forget Afghanistan and Pakistan. Forget anything that requires the slightest bit of research and/or critical thinking.

Gasoline is $4 a gallon!

Shit, you might as well tell me that my "American Idol" vote doesn’t count. The gas prices are directly in front of us everyday and, eventually, people will have to pay attention. They literally won’t be able to afford not to. And when people take a little time to find out why their gas costs so much, perhaps they might stumble across some of the other above-mentioned topics.

Maybe a pizza delivery driver from Arkansas will read that a CIA report said that the U.S. sanctions placed on Iraq since the first Gulf War have resulted in the deaths of roughly ten thousand civilians a month. Maybe he or she will learn that the majority of those dead civilians were infants and the elderly.

Maybe a mechanic from Florida will read somewhere that a CIA report written before the U.S. attacked Iraq proved that Saddam Hussein had no means of making nuclear weapons and that the CIA agent who authored the report had their identity made public by someone very high up in the Bush administration.

Maybe someone will compare the U.S. media to Nazi propaganda. Maybe people’s anger will grow proportionately with their awareness. Maybe someone will knock the fucking water cooler over.

Like I said, gas prices are just one of those annoying things people like to whine about, myself included.

Artist Entry: Dance Club Massacre vocalist Nick Seger and six chapters of random blasts

"Six Chapters of Random Blasts"
by, Nick Seger

Chapter 01: Greetings

A Black Market Activities Blog. This is pretty neat. Let the fans get to know the bands a little, more about themselves, and how unpredictable tour can be. For starters, my name is Nick Seger and I am the guy that screams stuff for Dance Club Massacre. Black Market Activities picked us up in January 2007 and it’s been a hell of a ride since. Mitch told me about this cute little blog section and gave the orders to write. Mitch is our guitarist and member of the band that is glued to the internet and message boards and sites concerning the metal/punk/hardcore/whatever scene. He also assumes responsibility of mainly all of the business and phone calls. So since I had written a few blogs (Random Blasts) in the past for our band's site he suggested I spill out some of my thoughts or "random blasts" right here... IN THE OFFICIAL BMA BLOG!

Chapter 02: Too Illegit to Quit

I never really search the Web for message boards about bands and tours. On the Internet I spend my time checking out what’s going on with Chicago sports teams, funny videos, or any wrestling news site (I'm the biggest wrestling fan you will ever meet.) But Mitch of course being Mitch, once showed me this Web site called Lambgoat.net. I thought I would peruse this one due to the abundant comments about my band!

"Oh golly! I bet there are some nice things about me in here! Maybe a CD review! How fun!" said the oblivious chump named Nick, whilst pushing up his glasses and pulling apart some delicious string cheese.

Wait a minute here. Why...why these guys are just mean! "Why God, why did Black Market sign this band? This band isn't legit at all. They look like a bunch of pre-teens posing as the real deal. Pftt, great. Another false grind, metalcore breakdown brat pack who probably never played a show in their entire lives -- and they're not legit. Pfft, I bet they don’t even know who Isis is, let alone Botch or Neurosis. What a bunch of assholes."

It gets worse after that. The next link Mitch sends me is a review of our album Feast of the Blood Monsters. Not a thing was mentioned about the music. It was actually about how we looked, and how we had the word “Massacre” in our name.

Well then, to those "legit" uh, "core" fans out there, I guess I will just have to apologize that I look younger than I am. I'm sorry I don’t have an Isis sweatshirt. I’m sorry that we got stuck with a band name that eventually resembled at least 500 others -- and I'm sorry that we're not dead yet. But hey, you'll never know, while we continue to tour maybe a semi-truck will run us out of our lane, losing control of the wheel and taking us over a cliff, where our mangled bodies tumble out of the window of Vince McVan (thats the name of our van), to have us all be impaled by long thorny branches, and then our blood will slide down the roots where the earth can digest our illegitimacy and then you can blame our wretched souls that now impregnate the earth for its demise -- whenever that may be. : )

Chapter 03: Hakuna-Matatour

Tour for DCM is a funny thing. It's the best of times and it’s been the worst of times. Once upon a time, in the summer of 2007, we arrived to one show somewhat in the beginning of the "Brokeback Mountour" with Architect and Destroyer Destroyer.

It was agreed that the promoter provide some sort of catering for the three struggling bands. Nothing special. Nothing specific. Just something. Now, its one thing to just not have food. Whatever, we don’t do contracts, and we can always just hit up some food after the show. But one guy actually had two small containers of fly infested warm potato salad and a bag of chips, which he claimed cost him $80. He said because he spent that much money on the catering, he did not have enough money for the actual guarantee for the three of us.

Another similar situation that happened on that tour was when a couple who threw a show for us said they didn't have enough money to pay the bands but we could stay at their house -- they lived in a mansion. On that tour, we usually stayed in a Super Wal-Mart parking lot, grilling and playing bean bags all night. But it's OK, we have a million MySpace fans right? We should be rich.

Like every tour, the first day was a little awkward of course, meeting new guys you will be spending the next month with. But it didn't take long at all to become great friends. Oddly enough Architect at first wanted nothing to do with us and expected us to be little scenesters that in no way should be on a label with the caliber such as Black Market Activities. By the second day we earned their respect and are pretty damn good friends. In fact we are staying with them right now in Syracuse, NY, since uh... the end of this last tour didn't go so hot.

Chapter 04: Devon Heresy -- Get the Tables!!!!

Divine Heresy, Sworn Enemy, With Blood Comes Cleansing, From A Second Story Window, Dance Club Massacre. Believe me when I say going into this tour we were super excited. This was the most professional tour we would be doing. It was booked through The Agency Group, which is pretty respectable.

Time to put on our game faces boys! Gotta look good, gotta get tough. Maybe some booking agents would be on the sides checking out our skills. For an analogy I'm more comfortable with; it was kind of like we were in the developmental territory honing our skills, and with this tour we got called up to "WWE Friday Night SmackDown!" for some trial dark matches. If we win over the crowd, we're in the big time. Opening up the potential for bigger tours is like being an opener or mid-carder for "RAW" or "SmackDown." Okay, I promise not to talk about wrestling anymore.

Before the tour actually began our new band of brothers, From A Second Story Window, contacted us and planned a few shows together to get our asses in Colorado to begin the thrashing. Of course, on the first day we had to go to a party where we can be in a neutral setting, to relax and get to know each other a little better. There was much beer pong to be played, Taco Bell stops, free booze, and a little game called “Buffalo."

FASSW claim Buffalo is a game they were taught by Heavy Heavy Low Low. The thing is, once you swear your self in, there is no backing out. You're playing for life. Of course we swore our selves in with little to no hesitation. The rules are: If anyone has a drink in their right hand and someone yells “buffalo” you have to chug what's left. Whether it's one last sip of a tall, cool, Pabst Blue Ribbon or a whole fifth of vodka.

I have decided to not name any names for the sake of one's family and integrity -- and because I straight up love the guy -- but let’s just say by the end of that night a certain gentleman pissed in an empty bottle, and held it up in his right hand with honor and pride. Then our tour manager/merch guy James called "buffalo." Once again I will not name names, but that piss was chugged straight down without hesitation. Now that the ice was broken, we were ready for tour.

Chapter 05: Back to Developmental

Well of course the tour didn’t exactly meet our expectations of our, so called, big debut squash match against Nunzio or Val Venis. Financially some of the bands were in jeopardy. Attendance was low. Buy outs were barely buy outs. An incident occurred between the members of Divine Heresy, where they had to drop the last several dates. With Blood Comes Cleansing had already re-routed their tour to head back home to Atlanta. Sworn Enemy had their van broken into. It was a wreck! I still wanted to play the last few dates, but alas, they were canceled without the headliners. With all of this said, I have nothing but much much love for those bands we went out with.

At one point in Louisville, KY once the smoke had cleared and we were finishing at the bar and loading up equipment, "Lean On Me" by Bill Withers came on the juke box and something magical happened. We found all five bands singing the song with so much passion, arms over each other's shoulders. You had ex-members of Fear Factory and Nile. Big, bulging, muscle men. Little dorks with Star Wars tattoos. Pretty boys, fuglys boys all united as one, singing to this tune. It was like the ending of closure to a "Wonder Years" episode. So for that kind of emotion, picture some classic ballad from the '70s playing as you read the next paragraph in the narrated by the voice of Daniel Stern.

It doesn't matter how tough tour can get, touring is just plain fun. We make new friends each time we tour. Not to mention that one day you're playing in front of 200 kids in a circle pit, then the next you sell one shirt and rock your hardest to 14 kids at 6:30 in the p.m. -- and you make those kids smile. Maybe one of the big burly guys with a "Gigantour" shirt on digs your sound and buys you a beer. Maybe one of the little MySpace sluts wearing three belts tells you deep from her tainted soul that she really really loves you guys and her mom dropped her off just in time to see you. Every little bit counts my friends.

Chapter 06: The Future

Well we are here with our boys Architect for a few more days waiting to get back on the road. Next up is a tour with Psyopus, The Crinn, and Epicurean. We have already toured with Epicurean before, which might I add, was a blast. I can’t wait for more good times and great memories. Well, time to go to the liquor store before it closes. I’m thinking champagne tonight. BMA fans: we are going to keep on touring as much as possible. You know the saying: "The going gets tough, and the tough gets going." For the haters: we promise to keep being as illegit as possible!

Hey, maybe we will get gold foil shirts and sell them on our MYSPACE! MUAHAHAHAHAHA! The world is ours! And nothing can stop us!!! Except for a semi truck.

From a Second Story Window is giving away a guitar!

Artist Entry: TDTDE compare and contrast Metalfest experiences

Photo Credit: Mark Jeffries

Greetings fellow metal people, Brandon Bateman here of Tony Danza Tapdance Extravaganza.

So here I sit in the back of our van, (well not our van, Lina's van,the van she is letting us use for now)trying to decide how I am going to explain our fun time at New England Metal and Hardcore Festival.

The only thing I could think of was to ask each of the other dudes to tell me some things they dug and things they didn't dig so much. After beating it out of them, I have only the following to report:

Layne Meylain - Guitar
Likes -

1. The crowd's response to our set.
2. Hanging out with tons of friends.
3. Slutty goth chicks!
   

Dislikes -

1. Bands that wear kilts.
2. Meshuggah's sound mix during their set.
   
3. Video interviews
   

I'm gonna break pattern here for a moment and share with you an exact quote from Layne, after I asked him what he thought of Meshuggah's set: " All I got to say is...big rooms and low tunings!"

For those readers who may not know, NE Metalfest was held at the Palladium in Worcester, Mass. A venue that one day long ago held a shit load of yuppy ass mothas in their chinchilla cloaks watching the latest showing of "The Hound of the Baskervilles" acted out by men in tights with questionable sexual orientations, and women who look like men with questionable sexual orientations. So if you've seen the flick "The Phantom of the Opera," you probably have a good idea of what the room looked like and sounded like.

Mike Butler - Bass
Likes -

1. Getting to see friends and fans from past tours.
2. Playing a sweet show and seeing Meshuggah......for FREE!!!!!
3. Getting to hug Scott Lee.
   

Dislikes -

1. Interviews
2. Interviews
3. Interviews
   

Jessie Freeland - Vox
Likes -

1. Scott Lee hooking us up with a badass slot.
2. Playing a fest I've always wanted to play.
3. Seeing a lot of friends.
   

Dislikes - NONE?

Paul Simpson - Guitar
Likes -

1. The awesome people of Mass.
2. The Crowd response.
3. Getting to see friends from past tours.
   

Dislikes -

1. Not getting paid to play the show.
2. A ridiculous merch cut.
3. $6.00 sausages.
   

And for my last trick....

Brandon Bateman - Drums
Likes -

1. Seeing the amount of gray in all of Meshuggah's hair.
2. Comparing Vince Bennett's and Ray Chaos' beards for the most comfort (Ray won).
   
3. Doing a photo shoot with Buck Hunter, The Taliban and random acts of public urination.
   

Dislikes -

1. Not getting a single moment of silence ALL FUCKING DAY.
2. Not getting a single moment of silence ALL FUCKING DAY.
3. Not getting a single moment of silence ALL FUCKING DAY.
   

So, I'm falling asleep writing this. I'm gonna take a nap and dream about a new tour van.

Goodbye for now friends.