Once upon a time there was a band from the Los Angeles area called Who Rides The Tiger. In their time together they made many ears ring, and sometimes bleed. Eventually they disbanded, and I got sad. Maintaining contact with WRTT’s vocalist/guitarist Bill, he’d mentioned that he had a new project in the works. After some months at the drawing board, the first little taste of his new project is inching its way out of the darkness.
Now, if you have time, are feeling ornery, and want to turn a screw on The Man, Luce sent me the following clip;
The comments are interesting in as far as this concept ultimately hurting the customer, but as far as thousands, or tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands of empty envelops being returned to the institutions goes, it might make an impression.
Metal and civil disobedience are like peanut butter and chocolate.
Which of course isn’t to be confused with the month-beginning or month middle hodgepodge you are familiar with around here;
What to do, what to do?
Now then, you might be asking what this photo of an entirely too enthusiastic looking young woman has to do with anything, which I can answer thusly;
In general when starting a post I will type a thing, find a correlating image and go from there. Since on this day in particular I didn’t know exactly where to start, I began with a question. The image that came to my mind was ‘shrug’, though when I typed shrug into the Googles, I didn’t get an assortment of people with their shoulders raised as if to gesure “Aayyee, whaddayagonnado?“, but rather an assortment of photos of women with partial sweaters and shirts on.
I have always known of this garment simply as ‘a sorta shirt’, or ‘an unfinished sweater’. I had no idea they had a name all to their own, though in general I have very little knowledge of fashionable items, regardless of what percentage of them is missing.
Despite my best efforts, we seem to have a Monday post here after all.
Today we will venture down a road that illustrates that justice is not only blind, but that in some cases her eyes have been plucked out, ping-ponged, abused, assaulted and then catapulted off into the wild blue yonder.
It’s just another Saturday.