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Friday, July 28, 2006

American Apathy?

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Here it is. Take a look. Sure, it's a flame. Nice, softly-glowing. Nothing menacing there. Just what you'll see at candlelight vigils around the world. People holding candles with them glowing so softly and all you see in it is a unity. It's where people from all walks of life come together under a common purpose and show that each flame represents a soul on this planet and, this particular one, lets you know the real intention.

Some arbitrary article said that the online vigil was only supposed to last until the 27th. Yesterday. Ok, but I think I'll keep mine going. Others are putting theirs out.

Why? The war is still on. Violence around the world is at an escalation. Truly terrible things are happening right now, this minute while you sit there reading the words that I'm writing.

So why put the candles out? Short attention span?

We still have so many social ills here that are taking a turn for the worst and, I'm sorry to have to tell you this Mr. and Mrs. Public, but the condition has now upgraded to critical.

What if you were told your sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, cousins, family, friends...any of them...if they were on life support wouldn't you light a candle for them until they got better? Wouldn't you keep it lit until they were in the clear?

Michale Graves told me during the interview that Music once seemed as though it were on a mission of mercy to save the world. We had Live Aid, Farm Aid, "We Are The World"...does no one remember this anymore?

I mourn often. I mourn the loss of loved ones from so long ago. I mourn the day I was looked down upon as I took up the reins on causes I thought were worth the time and energy it took to put forth the effort. Most of all, I mourn for this nation and this generation. Good Old Apathy strikes again.

I could remember a time when I could sit back, only care about what misadventure Beavis and Butt-Head were going to get into next and which band's videos were going to be on Headbanger's Ball. It's not like that anymore. That can't be all I care about. Why? I don't know. What I do know is the one thing that my dad never taught me...he never taught me how to quit. He never did teach me how to give up and throw in the towel. Even when everyone was bringing someone's worst traits out for all to see, I'd give that person the benefit of the doubt until they proved me otherwise.

Why? Because I was never taught how to quit.

So an article declared the 27th your quitting time. Who the hell is that person to get something started to put a time limit on it? MySpace can have my account if they want it, I don't care. I'm not changing my damn candle picture. If you don't like it, get the hell off of my profile. I'm not going to take it down here. If you don't like it, get the hell off my blog. I have a choice and I made it. You have options too. When people got scared of two knobs, we were given something with many many buttons and now, people are still bothered.

My freedom ends where yours begins? Guess what, here's where mine ends. This is my bubble. You wander inside it, you take your chances. Don't come in here telling me where the bear shits in the woods...you won't like the result.

Here is where your freedom begins, you have the option to stay or walk. I don't care which you do but here, on my little wall. I'll write whatever the hell I like. You don't have to like it, just deal with it.

So, as for me, I'm keeping my candle. I'm keeping it for our soldiers. I'm keeping it for peace so they can come home and be with their families. I'm keeping it for The West Memphis Three. I'm keeping it in hopes that The Idiot Child will listen to reason. I'm keeping it for a million different reasons.

What about the rest of you? Don't you have reasons as well? Did your parents teach you to give up or was it self-taught.

In America, apathy can be our friend at times but today, it is our worst enemy.

Why do I keep my candle lit?

Because I was never taught how to give up. Deal with it.
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Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Playlist for 6/28/06 + Interview With Michale Graves




Here's Ya Button For Winamp...Tune In, Rock Out!!




Here's Ya Button To The NEW Microsite...Tune In, Rock Out!!


Create your own video for free at www.onetruemedia.com


LORD GENOCYDE LIVES! For The Hideous Return Of Lord Genocyde, We Bring You The Long-Awaited Interview With Michale Graves!!!! Tune In, Amp Up, Get Down, Rock Out!!!



The Genocydal Empyre v2.0

Playlist for 6/28/06

12:00am - 2:00am EST

1. The Genocydal Empyre v2.0 (Faith And The Muse - Cantus) (6:42)

2. KR Genocyde Friends (0:38)

3. 6Bit - Crucifixion Experiment (4:18)

4. Scum of the Earth - Altargirl 13 (3:41)

5. ENCODER - Supernatrual- Hardbeat mix (edit) (4:59)

6. Cockfight Club - Haulin' Ass to Hell (3:48)


7. Reism - Demons (4:33)

8. DJ Genocyde - The Genocydal March (0:42)

9. 6Bit - Crucifixion Experiment (4:18)

10. Michale Graves - Butcher Shop (2:55)

11. Mongrel - West Memphis Hell (2:14)

12. TradeskiN - The Left Behind (4:26)

13. KR Genocyde Friends (0:38)

14. 6Bit - Crucifixion Experiment (4:18)

15. Immune System Weltanschuuang Commercial (0:53)


16. Immune System - HippieKillDisco (3:51)

17. F5 - Dissidence (2:32)

18. Andraculoid - Detach (3:43)

19. Collide - Beneath the Skin (6:18)

20. KR Genocyde Friends (0:38)

21. 6Bit - Crucifixion Experiment (4:18)

22. Mankind is Obsolete - Still Right Here (4:17)

23. kHz - Broken (What Could've Been) (3:37)

24. Bio-Mechanical Degeneration - New Horizons (5:18)

25. Jonin - All The Same (4:36)


26. KR Genocyde Friends (0:38)

27. 6Bit - Crucifixion Experiment (4:18)

28. Frequency Construct - Ripper (5:24)

29. Gasr - New Society (4:40)

30. XP8 - Our Being (4:05)

31. KMFDM - Dogma (4:06)

32. The Genocydal Empyre - Outro (0:48)
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Monday, July 24, 2006

Switchedback: Reflection & Sythetic Misadventure In The Inhuman Condition

Each thought, each blade of grass, each grain of sand, each one of us...do we matter? What is our purpose? What drives us? What makes us tick? Do otherworldly and outwardly multidimensional beings really bother with us if we're mundane in existence? Are we being closely monitored by these beings in our daily lives both within...and without?

I sit here and I think of these things. I think of things and I worry about things that no one can help, least of all, me. Still, each day is a new opportunity to try. Then, I take the sum total of my experiences and I write them all down here, for you, to just sit here and read. God only knows why you do it. I figure you must be fucking bored to tears.

Why, you ask? Because, in my mind, my life is very boring.

The things I write about are about 89% cerebral. It all takes place in my head. In find, mentally, the ways to jazz up an event that you or anyone else would see as boring and just plain mundane. Why do I do it? Good question.

Still, here is yet another example of the same type of posting I do. I'll describe a few things that have happened and use my mind to add these otherworldly and mystical elements to them. The only dimension you'll slip into on occasion, is the maddening voyage inside my skull. There will be no drugs involved or else, I may not have remembered my trip. There will be no condoning insanity, though it's always worked for me and, finally, it will be long...in my mind anyway.

Let's begin with this weekend.

Friday: I'd paid a few bills as normal and I slipped $40 into an envelope for Joe, the lawnmower man. I'd called his cellphone and left a message for him, reminding him of my appointment set up with him two weeks prior. My yard is like the rainforest of the Amazon. I've actually gone into my backyard with one of the many swords in my collection, a sharp, reptilian Katanna that I have aptly named Shiddiken-ha. Last I was told, it was Japanese for "Breath of The Dragon." I attempted, with some futility to take down the length of some of that grass...weedy as it is. I gave up. I have a lawnmower, you see, but it will not work and, with my skin and eye condition being sensitive to the sun's great and terrible light, I will not have it fixed any further when I could just pay another man who doesn't suffer the same condition as I to do it for me as I sleep in the cold darkness of my room. I'd retired to bed and, when I awakened, I checked mail only to find that there wasn't any. No news is good news, I think. But wait...something else was wrong. Joe didn't show and the evidence was there. Those tall blades of grass stood defiant, threatening to revolt against me and my home. I checked the front doormat...the money was still there. Dammit. Ok, no worry, Joe's been behind and probably needs the time. Time, I have. The grass won't take up arms and march on my home, surrounding and overwhelming me with grassblade armies coming in through the windows and a sword as my only weapon. No, this is wrong. I spend the entirety of the night contemplating tomorrow's grocery shopping adventure. I'd need a new pair of headphones, of course. The iPod has entirely too much bass for the ones I have on some songs and the ones that I bought online drown out the vocals and guitars too much for me to enjoy the music. No, they will not do.

Saturday:

I give another call to Joe, again, letting him know the money is still there. I'm hoping he gets to the yard today or it means another late-night run with the rent check to drop it off at the landlord's joint because the last thing I want to hear is his crap about the grass. This is what happens when he raises the rent by 100, some things take precedence over how presentable the yard is and, after the episode with throwing my hips out of alignment and putting my lower back and myself out of commission for nearly a week, I think he can afford to eat a few things. The electrician and roofer still haven't shown up. No phone calls as to when to expect them. Yeah, you get my point. I go to bed late, again, wake up late, again and still have to go to Zeph and Lycan's place to get the car. Once I get the car and head to Wal-Mart, it's a smooth-sailing straight shot. Keep in mind that this Wal-Mart's been open 24/7 since it's opening. I get there, grab a cart and start my shopping when the voice on the intercom lets everyone know the store is closing in 20 minutes. Shit.

I start a mad dash, grabbing whatever I could remember to grab. Cat Food and ground meat are big musts and a various assortment of odds and ends I'd need and then I hit the checkout lane. When I start home, I realize I've forgotten some things and begin the task of kicking myself in the head for it. I'll pick them up at the dollar store later, I vow, but I'll do it in the morning. I am not trusting myself to get to bed on time. Once my sleep schedule is screwed, it's that way for a long time. When I return, I realize that, in the two weeks since my friend and co-host left, I haven't put up the groceries I'd gotten two weeks ago. This greatly disturbs me. I find out after putting everything away that my cupboards are packed, I can't fit anything else in there unless it's on the top shelf and, even then, I'd need a stool. These cupboards were not built with the 5'9" man in mind. Another thought occurs to me, a former roomie had switched my food around with the dishes and it makes me reasonably disturbed to note this after so long. I would switch them all back around, giving me more room to put more food but this is too much to do for now. I still have to clean my kitchen. I clean the kitchen of the trash that has accumulated since my injury and, once I'm done, I feel as though I'm the King of All Creation. Great Colossal Power! ....itty bitty living space. With the kitchen's surfaces and floors cleared of debris, I go for a walk, testing out a new pair of headphones and I cannot believe the sound that was entering my ears as I heard Encoder's Hardbeat Mix of their song "Supernatural."

"I ask myself, 'Why can't I have you?
'Why can't I keep my soul?
'Why can't I fight this lust?"
Because...you're supernatural
You're supernatural
I gave up my life for you
I gave my soul to you..."

The bass thrummed and bumped, the digital maelstrom wrapped my brain in it's brutal onslaught and I thought the only scene befitting a song of this emotional and magickal magnitude would be a scene of total liquid color as we all float in it, having our souls ripped from us collectively as we've all known the pain. A perfect denouement to total catharsis.

It wasn't just this song but others as well. Ozzy Osbourne's "Shot In The Dark" took on a frighteningly better turn with total bass boos and sound quality that just went fucking unrivalled. And they're so cheap. Less than $10....lightweight, they go in the ear but the wrap around the head and provide total comfort, cancelling out the noise from the outside. I don't want your warnings of watching where I'm going. Death has reached me once but has proven that he is too weak to hold me. As Stephanie put it, nothing short of a thermonuke could take me down and end me. If that were the case then I get the cremation I want and no need to scatter my ashes...I'll be vaporized and well on my way to the Great Halls of Valhalla.

Then, I remember, the time I spent walking about town, stalking various residents still out at these late hours could have been spent getting ice and bread....two things I needed. I missed my chance. I would not come morning.

Sunday:

The whole weekend had been a host of things out of left field. Stuff from Tammi I didn't know. Tammi, honestly, I didn't know whether you were throwing hints at me or not until you told me just what you were looking for. I wanted to help but I didn't know which way to go for fear of looking like a fool and becoming total swine in the process. Now that I know, I thank you because now, I can help and not reduce myself to that of a blubbering idiot. Then, my girlfriend came out with some things on me as well. I lay in bed wondering just where, if anywhere, my mental state was going. It was Sunday morning and now was the time for me to hit the dollar store for those last few odds and ends. After leaving the dollar store with my purchases, I began to regret not taking the backpack. I dare say it was only in the lower to mid-eighties and already, I was sweating like a Born-Again Christian at a Marilyn Manson concert. I'm still unsure of how many churches I walked past with people filing in and out of them, becoming completely appalled at my shirt that read "Parental Advisory: We Say Fuck Alot" and then "www.krushradio.com" below it. I vow that when I return home, I'll put all of this away, put the laundry on to wash and go to bed. When I return, I do just that but it still takes me until 11am - noon to do it. I wake up with plenty enough time to take the clothes, put them in the backpack and take them to the laundromat to dry. Once everything is dry, I take the clothes out of the dryer and set about folding and rolling the clothing to put it back into the backpack. That thing was monsterously heavy upon taking it to the laundromat, I'd hoped that the loss of the waterweight would lighten the load a bit. As I was rolling the clothes, a woman tapped me on the shoulder and asked me, in the middle of a Def Leppard song if I'd ever been in the Navy.
I told her that I hadn't but I'd had the questions asked of me before. Army, Navy, Marines, choose your branch of service but I have been asked that based on the way I prepare my clothing for a trip home. Yes, I even keep them in the drawer that way. In any case, I presented the 100 Monkey Theory to her, proposing that this is a habit that could have made it's way into our collective conciousness. She thinks the idea is quite humorous and then packs the rest of her clothing and leaves with her son who has been staring at me in slack-jawed whatever for the past five minutes.

When I get home with the clothing, I put it all away where it needs to go, this time, throwing in dryer sheets into closets and drawers to keep them smelling like they just came out of the dryer. These little domestic skills of mine are becoming sharper by the day each time I put them into practice. Tammi, thanks again for those tips...I still have them saved to notepad.

Misty...oh yeah, gotta call her back. She'd called earlier that day before I set out to dry the freshly-washed laundry and now, I'd almost forgotten her. Damn my eyes for such a thing. I try to not forget anyone who calls me but these days, it's hard. I call her back and then, another of our lengthy discussions ensues. Life, The Universe and Everything....all of it is discussed at some length. She keeps me company since there's no one here to talk to anymore. I miss being able to fuck with Stacy and her shooting insults back at me. We've been friends for 12 years and we still are able to spit our "fuck yous" at each other with some degree of intensity without ever taking a damned thing personally. Except tickling....I fucking hated it when she did that shit. I get off the phone with her after I finish making the chili dogs which serve as my dinner. It's simple and it's not much but it's hot and it's good food and washing it all down with a frosty mug of Pepsi puts me right at home.

Now, I'm faced with a new problem....boredom. I decide to start my old habit of websurfing. I can't remember my password or username to get into VampireFreaks.com to update all my user info and tell more of these my gothic freak minions to tune into my show where I make my hideous return after being out for over a week but I'm sure I will soon enough. As I'm surfing, I come across subjects that interest me. The world of corrections being chiefly among them. Then, I find it. How I got there, I still don't know. It came about from hours of surfing the web and doing nothing more than just following links to wherever. Some site in the backwoods of the internet called InmatesForYou.com stares me in the face. I'd heard of these sites before. The inmate penpal sites. These were all women. Interesting.

My curiosity is piqued after weeding out the ones that state outright they're looking for relationships. Including "kinky" ones that are listed among the vast amounts of inmates seeking correspondance with the outside world. The ones that list the "kinky" preference...I'm half-tempted to write them and tell them about my extreme and rather escalating fetish for Lesbian Midget Bikers Wearing Diapers Chasing Nurses Dressed Like Smurfs just to see how kinky they're willing to go. Remember that joke about the guy and the girl meeting at the bar to find out they'd both been simultaneously dumped by their respective significant others for being "too kinky?" Yeah, well if you don't, the punchline is they go back to her place where she comes outta the bathroom dressed in a PVC catsuit carrying a whip and a pair of handcuffs to find him getting dressed.

"Where are you going, worm?" she asks

"Look, lady, I fucked your dog, I shit in your purse," he says, "I'm outta here."

Ladies, be sure to specifically enumerate what you find "kinky." There are people like me in existence, remember?

Anyway, I've chosen about six or seven. All of them from out of state. Time for this DJ to go on another adventure.

Tammi once said she wished she could find someone to slow me down by handcuffing me to a bed or something. Well, Tammi, I've saved you the trouble but she's in the U.K. of all places and *looking at my bed* My bed doesn't have bedposts!

Ha HAAAAAAAAAAA! ANOTHER ADVENTURE FOR DAMIEN!!!!!!!!!

-transmission ended-
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Wednesday, July 19, 2006

The Savage Road To Recovery.

Hey everyone,

Again, I want to thank all of you for your support, your emails your thoughts, prayers, and those really awesome vibes you have been sending my way, they've all been helping. How? Check this out. I don't know if I've told anyone this stuff yet but here's the latest.

As of Monday:

A Doc at the E.R. told me Last Thursday that I'd pulled a muscle in my back...that apparently took me outta work for the three day weekend I was scheduled to work. It's a good thing I don't call in unless it's important and they have doc's notes comin to them so they shouldn't complain too much. That doc put me on Toradol and Flexeril. I fucking hate these two drugs. they essentially render me useless, and couple that with me getting stiff in the hip after sitting in this chair for a couple of minutes that means no playlists were sent and all shows have been cancelled until further notice.

Each day, I've been gaining more and more mobility thanks to you crazy fuckers. Your music, thoughts, prayers, etc have kept me going. What? You didn't think I pushed your music if I didn't like it did you? Problem though...it still hurt to sit up so I had to see a chiropractor and get a second opinion.

Monday's appointment at the chiropractor proved worth the time it took to stay up. He found my hips were out of alignment (slightly, nothing awful) and that it had not only pulled some muscles but had also kicked some trigger points in my hip to screamin at me. Unofficially, he advised me to get off the Toradol and Flexeril. No problem there, they were turning me into Genocyde Osbourne. This shit was making my speech slurred, I walked like I'd had my brain fried from surviving an electric chair and what's worse, I couldn't do anything but sleep in order to curtail the effects...fuck that.

As of Now:

I'm currently two or three days off the two scrips. The pain has been at the point where it starts out as an "Fuck...this sucks ass." to an ignorable annoyance after I move around a bit and work the kinks out. The only two meds I'm on now are some ibuprofen and Aleve...shit I can handle. Let's face it, I don't do prescription meds very well. I'm rarely sick, I almost never suffer anything worse than the occasional sore muscle from a workout so when I take something like that, it beats seven shades of shit outta me. Now, I'm going for walks for a couple of hours. Sitting up has gotten better but I'm still a bit stiff and I still have to get up and move about for a bit.

Recovery has been fast as hell and unyielding and it's all thanks to YOU for sticking by me and showing the support. As for the playlists and shows and things of that sort...might be another week or two but I'll be back in the swing of things before you know it. I'm sorry things got really fucked the way they did but don't worry, I'm sure it won't happen again. Even your Host, Main Event, Showstopper, Lord And Emporer ain't quite bulletproof...yet...I'm still working on that.

Many Blessings and Thanks! Love you all!

Damien aka Lord Genocyde

P.S. If Erica from Unter Null gets this....CONGRATS ON THE TWINS GIRL!!!
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Monday, July 17, 2006

this is an audio post - click to play
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this is an audio post - click to play
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Sunday, July 16, 2006

Lord Genocyde Gives Updates

this is an audio post - click to play
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Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Wait And Bleed (Of The Darkness And Illumination)

I was riding again. The music filled my ears and a sense of flying through the rush of the air filled me with wonder.

Freedom...this was it. Free from the constraints. Nothing but me and the road and there never was anything else in the first place, now was there? Heaven was a kiss away from the Infinite and Oblivion seemed like a destination that was marked for the final point of arrival. I'm not even really sure what that meant to me at the time. All I knew was that since the sanctuary of the Cemetary was off limits, it would leave me in, what I considered, rather rude conversation with my grandfather long since passed. In a sense of not being where he rested, I'd have to yell...mentally. It was the only means of communication with him now unless I braved awful daylight to do it. Possibly during the winter but not now.

Still, that open road and the downhill slope at 2 in the a.m. was exhilarating. I felt myself resonate with the drift of the speed, realizing that, should I need to stop suddenly or round a corner, I would be unable to control the simple machine beneath me. I didn't mind. I was going non-stop and flying...like a creature on wings. Certainly, this feeling was somewhat alien to me. I pumped the pedals time and again and never tired. I breathed and wasn't winded.

I wanted to taste the sky and it's features, the stars mere pinpricks in the velvet blanket of night, the moon, brilliant and sending it's intensity through me. I wanted them all. To become lost in this feeling would be one I for which I wouldn't mind leaving this temporal existence once and for all.

It was at the baseball fields where I finally stopped, resting in one of the empty dugouts. I was back, a being of Infinity carrying Oblivion within. Then, unexpectedly, it consumed me. It crept up on me like a terrible dream. This is all there was, the darkness again. Like stepping onto rotten boards over a well, I plunged headlong into it. I sat down and closed my eyes. Why, when only moments ago, those feelings of exhilaration and freedom were so close, did they seem so far from me? Was I living in some illusory world from which I had no hope of returning? Was it all in my head again?

The silence around me was deafening but nowhere near to the point of the sounds from within. The iPod was turned off, the little device and the headphones sitting next to me. Behind the darkness of my closed eyes were the images again. All those faces of my dearest friends and my family, would I be able to do anything for them? Could I keep my own demons from haunting them as well? Where were my answers?

Where are you? I asked, I could really use the advice right now.

Then, it happened again. The song played again. It happened when he left. I was one of those left behind but his final message was there, waiting when I got the news. It didn't come from the iPod. I didn't have that song on there but it played within, no less.

Hello, my friend
Can't sleep again
Got too much on
my mind...

It's half past three
you're calling me
Just to make
Everything alright

Can't see the light
Heat of the night
I'm tired of feeling
so wrong

And if I could
Find a way
I'd take your place
But you just gotta live

Live on.

The words of Kenny Wayne Shepherd's song filled my mind again. At times, they were comforting and at times I would scream inside, "Goddammit! Cut the cryptic bullshit and just fucking out with it!" which usually ended up in me punching something and then hating myself for really fucking over a knuckle or two.

That night, those words were both. I remembered when the phone call came through. They told me he was gone. I'd planned on seeing him that weekend. Not that he would have recognized me. He probably wouldn't even know who I was when he saw me. His stroke had left him in such a terrible state. After I'd hung up the phone, I wasn't sure what to ask, who to ask or why. The one I'd turned to for answers was gone and, to me, there was still so much I hadn't learned. Then, that song came on. It came on over the radio and I sat there, in that dark bedroom with Pandora, my blind cat at my side, and listened to it. Ever since, whether mentally or through a set of speakers, that song played. Sometimes, I don't understand how it relates to the questions I ask but still, sometimes, it's the only answer I get.

I wish I could tell you that it all became better after that. I wish I could tell you all the problems I suddenly had were solved. They didn't. They weren't.

Still, I got back on the Mongoose and pedalled. Where to? Wherever the wind took me. I took a sense of comfort in it.

I was riding, being free and there was no box in which to put me.

If this was going anywhere, I'm sure it's reached it's destination.

Wherever that is.


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Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Down In The Darkness: The Descent

Disclaimer:
This blog transmission contains content some may find unsuitable, offensive, unnerving, unsettling, demented, depraved, sadistic and even Pure Evil. The Author would like to ensure you that this particular transmission is all of these things...and does not give a damn...he's writing it anyway.

I acknowledge the fact that doing kind deeds and being the type of person to try to change the world (or at least it's mentality) is a task in which each person who decides to do so will have thier work cut out for them. I know this.

I know that frustration comes when the opposition decides that you'll never do it. I suppose they like the way things are. Sure, let's just leave it as it is, fistfuck our natural resources and this planet into the next decade or so. Surely the planet will be better off won't it? Without us, I mean. We're like a cancer. Our hatred and anger gets the better of us and we set about killing each other.

As the Corrosion of Conformity song "Shake Like You" once said:

Build them weapons
and let them have their peace of mind
then tip them off
so they can kill what's not their kind

Yeah, ok, you can have that. Have it with my blessing, sure. I understand. There are things even I find intolerable.

Stupid people, big time. Can't stand these idiots. Their self-imposed ignorance has cost many of us more times than we care to count. They're the number one type of people I can do without. Ignorant people are okay to me. Some of them will never remain that way. Whether you're ignorant of the workings of a computer or ignorant of a culture, sometimes, a simple quest to educate yourself will clear that up but then there are people who love to live in their assumptions. I don't like it. I don't feel I should have to. I don't feel I should have to live with it but it does contribute largely to my own anger.

Greedy people, the powermad, I think they can get grouped in with The Stupid. Heh, I guess they love being blind and still, I feel that natural anger and hatred building in me.

Yeah, it's natural. No, I don't like it. If I could do away with anything within my nature, it would be that.

So what do I do?

I seek the object of my abuse.

You see, years ago, when Tickle Me Elmo was all the rage, it got old with me quick. My compassion and caring for this once-cute character died and something evil took it's place. It was then that I decided I'd like to see this character brutalized, bent over a garbage can and sadistically gangraped by a gaggle of grouches...with Oscar leading the charge.

In that case, let's take it further. I'm pouring all my hatred, rage and murderous anger out onto this character. He'll be all used up from the Grouches letting their gimp have it's way with him. Poor thing will turn to drinking, drugs and possibly some sado-masochistic behavior, thinking it's his fault. He'll be plagued with nightmares, resorting to more drugs...heavier shit, spiralling ever downward. The rest of the Sesame Street crew will try tough love on him and, just when they're making progress, Bert in all his evil mental savagery will cause Elmo to relapse. Why? Because Bert Is Pure Evil! Not only that but Bert knows as I do that there is a balance that must be maintained. Elmo had his 15 minutes of fame and Bert will serve me well in giving him his 15 minutes of Eternal Damnation.

That's right, time and again, Elmo will stoop lower to get his next heavy fix. Can you imagine that fuzzy shit sucking dick for that next rock? Oh yeah, keep laughing, I've only just begun.

Of course, the Sesame Street Crew will try everything and have thier hearts utterly annihilated. Their poor Elmo has turned on them, stealing from them, outright mugging them on the street until, finally and through many tears, they'll file a restraining order on that fuzzy little shit. No more showing up to filming strung out or drunk as hell.

Elmo hits the skids.

This is when things get really rough for Elmo. Not only has he begun his promiscuous reign of dehumanizing acts to score that next fix, he's now burning a path that many of us have heard about.

Imagine all of this, over the years. He's taken to arms dealing on the streets when he's not completely blasted out of his mind. He's fucking up the money count. He's also using up half the stashes he's dealing. He's gone from his plump 50-lb frame to a wasted 15-lb frame. He's willowy thin, his red hair is coming out in patches. He's got a runny nose, roadmaps on his arms from all the tracks and he's got bags under his eyes that you could carry groceries home in. Elmo has been reduced to a shadow of his former self. He's outrun cops with the help of the bit of angel dust he smoked before his next small arms deal.

Now, when he's not on the run from the cops, he's on the run from his suppliers. They're out to get him too. Not to kill him. No. They humiliate, degrade and beat Elmo each chance they get. Elmo is lost, alone and then...he gets nailed. The cops grabbed him on some warrant from a couple of years back and Elmo finds himself within the system.

Poor Elmo is run through the wringer and each piece of dignity is just horribly taken from him. After the first year, Elmo is past the withdrawls, he's hit the weight piles, he's on the fast track to becoming something else. It happened when he met that convicted cult leader/mass murderer on the inside.

This is the part where I finally give Elmo a little leeway. I lay off of him for awhile. Why? You'll see.

The cult guy convinced Elmo that God is dead and we're alone. He convinced Elmo that if there were some all-loving force in the world guiding our destinies, he'd have never hit rock bottom. So, armed with that knowledge and a working knowledge of some of the occult's most dark forces and energies, he made a blood oath to some dark deity in his cell that night and spent each day and night afterwards training, making weapons and places to hide them. He was biding his time when vengeance would reign.

Worlds Collide:

Elmo begins fighting back and winning. He literally flattens his time out by spending so much time in solitary that the state can't see anything to really hold Elmo on any longer. Elmo has become cold, heartless and manipulative.
Elmo hits the streets again after being locked away for several years. Now clean, he returns to Sesame Street. Everyone is happy to see him and they embrace him and tell him that they love him. Elmo puts on a good show but insists he's only there for a little while before he moves on. They can tell something just isn't right with Elmo now.

Each night, a grouch goes missing. When they find grouches sleeping in dumpsters, it doesn't occur to them that someone has murdered them until the stench rolls out. A series of homicide investigations have begun but all of Elmo's alibis are airtight. He'd gone to bed early. He'd been practicing lines. He'd been thinking of getting back into theatre again. The rest of the crew's stories corroborate Elmo but they left out the fact that Elmo does seem a bit high-strung.

Finally, with the cases ruled unsolved. Elmo decides to depart for Mexico for good. He figures the deserts of Mexico would do him some good and after saying his goodbyes, he leaves.

Upon arrival in Tijuana, he discovers the nightlife and dives right in. Years go by and he's made himself a small fortune as a drug runner. He's come up with tips and tricks to get him past Border Patrol and into the U.S. with some of the most prime shit on the market. But Elmo has had a few near-misses. He hasn't felt himself lately. He's been feeling downright awful. When he returns to Mexico, he consults a doctor and in a matter of days the test results come back.

This is where I start in on him again.

Elmo is dying. All the drugs he did, all the fucking around and fighting have exposed him to diseases that went undetected and untreated. First, he has cancer, second, he's got active tuberculosis and he's tested positive for nearly every sexually transmitted disease on the planet including one that has not been catalogued or catagorized yet. Treatments after treatments only make his health turn worse.

Figuring he has nothing left to lose but the time he has left, Elmo decides to eliminate the competition he's had.

Elmo follows his competition to Colombia where he starts an all-out bloody war with them. Both sides are locked in stalemate, leaving only a decimated Elmo, who's wasted away again in this ordeal and his competition.

That is, until the Colombian authorities arrive.

Elmo gets locked up in some hellhole that Amnesty International doesn't even know exists. Problem is, his competition has contacts here and they brutalize Elmo in his last days before finally giving him...The Colombian Necktie.

In other news I got a waterproof case for my iPod, cool huh?
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Sunday, July 02, 2006

this is an audio post - click to play
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iThink i'm in Hell: The iPod Experience

Much controversy surrounds this little device. I've debated to many the point of simplicity with portable music devices but, out of all of them, Apple's iPod has been the best marketed MP3 player to date.

History:

I originally just wanted an MP3 player. Stopping during my walks to change CDs was becoming a pain. I found the Lexar JumpDrive 256MB (about 50 songs) to be my cheapest and best option. It had one button to control everything and it was so easy to work, you could tie my hands behind my back, throw me underwater, unconcious and I could still work that thing using some type of Sith variant of The Jedi Mind Trick.

Later, I wanted something a little slimmer and lighter. The ROKR MP3 player proved the best choice. It had the same storage capacity, a few more options, a few more buttons and the ability to preserve battery life a little longer by automatic shutoff after only a brief period of inactivity.

Whenever someone would ask me for my opinions of Apple's iPod, I would respond with the following:
  1. They were too damned expensive.
  2. 20 to 30 GB of music is far too many songs to carry around...that's about the size of my present music folder on my secondary hard drive.
  3. I don't think I'll be watching music videos on those walks or bike rides.
  4. Overall, iPod was way more than what you'd actually need for recreational purposes

Still, after much thought and debate, I caved. I decided to give the iPod the good-old Test of The Genocydal Maniac.

I found one on eBay for under $160.00. The iPod Nano....black....2 whopping GB (roughly 500 songs.) Once it arrived, I noticed things. First, the dimensions were way smaller than I thought. It was thinner than a #2 pencil, slightly taller than my pack of Marlboros and barely wide enough to cover the width of three of my fingers put together. Second, it had a USB cable but where was the charger? Three, the free case is really just a protective cover and barely accommodates the headset. Fourth and final, the headset they'd sent with it was shit.
Noting that I couldn't find a manual or a charger with the thing, I decided to do what any male on the planet believing himself to be technologically advanced would do; I began the experiment.

I'd turned it on and after 20 minutes, I was using my thumb and forefinger to maniplate the hypersensitive clickwheel, navigating like mad through it's menus. Ladies, take note! If you want to make your man's hands the best foreplay yet, get that man an iPod and let him use it for practice! Before you make assumptions, I'll have you know my fingers bear a natual magick anyway...nevermind, skip that and move on. Problem #1: I didn't know how to turn the bastard off. Rayne showed me by pressing and holding the Play/Pause button. She apparently knows more about this little nanoplayer than I do.

After that, I logged onto Apple's website to order the charger and plugged the iPod into the USB port on my computer. Problem #2: The computer wasn't reading it. I had decided that perhaps the nanotechnological marvel of modern music was perhaps beyond my grasp of cognitive comprehension. I went to their troubleshooting site and after only a few clicks of the mouse, I had discovered that my wisdom that I'd so cherished had been laid waste. I was now the fool.

The battery had come with a partial charge. Due to that, the computer wouldn't read it. No shit. The computer would, however, begin charging it via THE DAMNED USB CORD!!!

WHAT?!

I looked at the color display as it proudly backlit the color animated icon, indicating that it was receiving the charge via computer...after I'd already bought the goddamn wall charger. I went to bed, leaving the iPod plugged in and the computer turned on.

Next Morning:

I'd come home, installed iTunes on my computer and began the arduous undertaking of making my iPod playlist. The computer and I locked horns and jockeyed for position as we fought for four hours. iTunes had picked up some rogue music folder and began making a library of it...while loading the whole works into my iPod! After three and a half hours, I gained ground. As soon as I had it all worked out (at nearly damn noon) I'd erased the songs previously put onto the computer by iTunes' rogue A.I. and set about installing a new playlist.

This thing is complicated. You have to register your iPod with Apple online, name the thing (mine has been dubbed Virus Nanoshuttle) and agree with their policies regarding the hardworking People's Technocratic Republic of Wherethefuckever before you can even install the first song onto it. Protecting Apple's and the Recording Industry's bottom line. I'd gone through commercialized hell just getting this thing set up to do what I could have done with the ROKR or Lexar in just 20 minutes.

iRock, iRoll, iPod:

Ok now that I'm done venting on this fucker, here are the better points of the iPod experience. First, killer sound quality. With a good set of earbuds, you get nearly CD quality sound from it. The multiple Equalizer presets ensure that your listening experience never lacks.

The next big plus is the sensitive clickwheel that lets you navigate through menus more easily. The sleep timer will help you conserve battery life. Your battery life is a whopping 14 hours before recharge and that's usage time. The color display is brilliant and crisp, allowing you to even set up picture slideshows to your music. What a great way to take trips down memory lane....it's like an electronic musical photo album. Still not satisfied? How about customizeable playlists? That's right, you can nearly be your own DJ away from home by putting together and loading multiple playlists, perfect for those late-night solo romps through the concrete urban jungle. Need help finding songs by artist or album? The iPod Nano does that for you as well making those tunes you got on iTunes that much more accessable. What about that shuffle feature? Got it covered!

For the serious music enthusiast who craves variety, style and more features than you can shake a clickwheel at, this device will put a spring in your step and possibly get you onto those excersize bikes you've been meaning to hit since that pesky New Year's Resolution.

Lord Genocyde's Bottom Line: While it's not the easiest of MP3 players to work, what it lacks in that user-friendliness department, it makes up for in merit alone. Still, with all the effort you go through in making playlists, loading music and listening, you're surely protected against those thuggish lawyers from the recording industry. Score one for Apple's best product since the powerbook Macintosh. And who said Apple was yesterday's news?

I'll be taking full advantage of it's other features later but the Virus Nanoshuttle is soon to go one of it's most grueling tests...The Genocydal Workout Test.