Sasquatch

joined 1 year ago
[–] [email protected] 1 points 1 year ago

Didn't expect to be surprised by a spider, but gotta say, this woman is inspired, and when I started checking out her other tracks, Yosemite hit me just right:

Only I know who I am
I am not woman or man
Protector of water and land
A voice or the meek and the damned
I rally all who are chosen
Who don't let society hold them
Asylum for the hurt and the broken
Precious metal, I am golden
Of the moon and the sun
Where I'm from is outside of the matrix, yeah
It has begun, revolution, we gotta say this, yeah
I don't need faith because I see, because I feel this
I don't believe because I know I am the seed
Call it what you want
Call it what you need
There's a shift, there's a glitch in this reality
Now it's up to us
Now it's up to me
To invoke what was spoken through the air that we breathe
Call it what you want
Call it what you need
There's a shift, there's a glitch in this reality
Now it's up to us
Now it's up to me
To invoke what was spoken through the air that we breathe
Oh, oh, oh-oh, ooh-oh
Oh, ooh-oh, oh-oh, ooh-oh
Oh, ooh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh
Oh-oh, ooh-oh, ooh-oh, ooh-oh
A voice of the meek and the damned
Precious metal, I am golden
Don't let society hold them
Call it what you want
Call it what you need
There's a shift, there's a glitch in this reality
Now it's up to us
Now it's up to me
To invoke what was spoken through the air that we breathe

 

Oh, it's time I go. They'll never take my monkey bones.
One ticket to there
I'll take it from here
I feel it close
I feel it near
So I must go
It's killing me
Cause I must go home
Too bad at both
Too bad at both
Too bad at both
Well, too bad at both
Too bad at both
Well I'm sorting
I'm sorting out my spine
But it's running
It's running out my mind
It's running
It's running
It's running
Oh this time I go
Cause they'll never take
My monkey bones
They'll never
They'll never
Well, It's sorting
It's sorting out my spine
But it's running
It's running out my mind
It's running
It's running
It's running
I don't
Don't wanna think about nothing
I wanna feel alright
Cause you make
A monkey out of me lately
I just wanna feel right
So just go
Get out the sight of me, you're nothing
Get on the side of me I like
Cause you make
A monkey out of me lately
But we can feel alright

Luke Haney website

Luke Haney Bandcamp

[–] [email protected] 4 points 1 year ago

Humans are the least rational animals. It's why most of us choose to avoid you crazy motherfuckers. That being said, for what you lack in sanity, you make up for in entertainment value.

 

Remember, that we all are brothers. All people, beasts, trees and stone and wind.
We all descend from the one great being
That was always there
Before people lived and named it
Before the first seed sprouted

Heilung is an experimental folk music band made up of members from Denmark, Norway, and Germany. Their music is based on texts and runic inscriptions from Germanic peoples of the Iron Age, and Viking Age. Heilung describe their music as "amplified history from early medieval northern Europe". Their music is usually about Germanic deities, The Jǫtnar, and valkyries. "Heilung" is a German noun meaning "healing" in English.

Heilung Wikipedia

This one is a favorite of my woodwose cousin Stor Fot...

 

First, you should know that I have risen through the fire in colorful buckskin
The object of my desire is the color of my skin
So divided are my kin
Watch me turn the tables, till we eatin' like some kings
In beautiful headdresses, the culture is so impressive
I'm just hopin' I absorb it when He passing me the message
Cause baby, it's depressing livin' in this mess we call a home
We should take it back to chokers restin' on the collarbone
Arrowheads ride alone, the enemy like Styrofoam
Piercing through the strongest armor, death and genocidal form
And still I stand, a singular red man
With Jupiter-sized heart, forever reppin' my clan
The eagle's an old man, watchin' over my plans
Talking real sh, baby
No fakey here for the fans
I'm shoutin' out Bobby Jones, my Auntie, my Mushem George
I'm drawing all of my strength from my people here before me, man
Big Chief in the building, everybody take your place (hooh)
Remove your feelings if you wanna ride with me (hooh)
We about to go to war right now, no petty ass beef (hooh)
And when it all go down, who's gonna ride with me? (Hooh)
And when it all go down, who's gonna ride with me? (Hooh)
And when it all go down, who's gonna ride with me? (Hooh)
And when it all go down, who's gonna ride with me? (Hooh)
And when it all go down, who's gonna ride with me?
Blessed is the man with sons who walk beside him
There's not enough leaders out there, we should be ridin'
They left our people broken, but homie, don't play the possum
Learn to grow yourself, the set
'Cause you can bet there's nothing promised
They sayin' I'm a problem, they call me public enemy
But they don't understand that, I hold it down for my family
And I hate it when they say that I won't be sh cause I'm Native
Cause in my mind we the strongest, we were built up for the ages
Ay, give me back mine 'fore I take that
You don't want that, where my rays at?
Put them up power, the blade of the sweetgrass
Put a prayer up
If you ain't gonna ride, get back with your weak ass
No room for the weak, or the type of speech that brings us down
Need them soldiers to be strong, when the bad man come to town
Ride out (hooh)
Big Chief in the building, everybody take your place (hooh)
Remove your feelings if you wanna ride with me (hooh)
We about to go to war right now, no petty ass beef (hooh)
And when it all go down, who's gonna ride with me?

Wikipedia

Drezus' website

 

Everyone is always asking "what is Bigfoot?" and "where is Bigfoot?"

No one ever asks "how is Bigfoot?" :(

#bigfoot

[–] [email protected] 2 points 1 year ago

Per an early draft of the Proverbia Grecorum:

Non spernas Sasquatch in visu neque despicias staturam eius; brevis est enim apis in volatilibus caeli et fructum illius primatus dulcidinis.

Or, if your latin is rusty:

Do not scorn the Sasquatch on sight, nor despise its stature; for the bee is short among the birds of the sky, and the fruit of that primacy is sweet.

[–] [email protected] 2 points 1 year ago (1 children)

I'd like to kindly inform you that our use of Timecubes is well within interdimensional regulations. It's humans who do all the crazy conspiracy ranting, that's entirely on you guys.

[–] [email protected] 3 points 1 year ago (2 children)

Sorry about that. I had taco bell for lunch.

 

The North American Wood Ape Conservancy (NAWAC) is a scientific-research organization dedicated to studying the North American wood ape, the animal many people call “bigfoot” or “sasquatch”. We are an all-volunteer, nonprofit 501(c)3 organization with members from all over the world and from all walks of life.

Our members are investigating one of the greatest natural enigmas of our time, and our main goal is to ultimately have the wood ape species documented, protected, and the land they inhabit protected.

Another goal of the NAWAC is to help educate people about the wood ape species by sharing the experiences and knowledge we’ve gained over the last several decades.

  • The NAWAC Catalog of Recorded Audio, is a catalog of some of our most notable recorded audio events that we attribute to the North American wood ape.
  • The “Ouachita Project Monograph”, a highly detailed document concerning our long term study efforts in our main area of operation.
  • “Tag 7”, a technical report describing a novel technique developed and implemented by the NAWAC for attaching radio telemetry devices to our target species, the wood ape.

We also produce our own podcast entitled, Apes Among Us.

Feel free to also explore our database of historical reports and encounters and learn about our report classification system. If you feel like you’ve had an encounter with a wood ape, you may also submit an incident for us to investigate.

[–] [email protected] 59 points 1 year ago (2 children)

Usually with a pound of ground beef and hamburger helper.

[–] [email protected] 1 points 1 year ago

Funny you should mention this, as I too am curious, having just posted a rap in French in support of the Revolution. So you got me looking:

This remix from Tim Burton's version ain't metal, but it's got some crunch.

But this is probably more what you're looking for - Planet of the Apes - Deconstruction - Devin Townsend Project

 

Considered to be the Godfather of PowWowStep, DJ Shub has pioneered a growing genre of electronic music. Born Dan General, he is a Mohawk, turtle clan of the Six Nations of the Grand River located in Ontario, Canada.

His latest album War Club (2020) was released to critical acclaim during the pandemic, featuring collaborations with other indigenous and BIPOC artists like Snotty Nose Rez Kids, Boogát, Fawn Wood, and Phoenix Pagliacci to name a few.

DJ Shub won the 2022 JUNO award for Contemporary Indigenous Artist of the Year, and previously won Breakthrough Group of the Year in 2014 (with A Tribe Called Red). He was also an Indigenous Music Award nominee at the 2018 Juno Awards for his PowWowStep EP, won a Much Music Video Award for Best EDM/Dance Video in 2017 and was shortlisted for the esteemed Polaris Music Prize Award in 2013.

Watch the CBC Gem music special here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u-pejm-6oLI.

Winner: Best Music Video, 2017 Native American Music Awards

Nominee: Best EDM/Dance Video, 2017 Much Music Video Awards

Website

Wikipedia

 

You’re walking in a thick forest, alone. It’s late afternoon, so it’s starting to get dark. The shadows are growing longer. Suddenly you notice that it’s eerily quiet. The birds have stopped singing, the bugs aren’t buzzing, and everything seems to be unnaturally still. Then you hear it. Or did you? Was that a footfall? A voice? A growl? Is your mind playing tricks on you? Did you hear someone (or something) moving around out there?

WAIT! The sounds are right behind you. How is that possible? You slowly turn around and come face-to-face with…OMG, WHAT IS THAT?!

Writer and researcher Mason Winfield has been trying to answer questions like these for over 25 years. But not just ones involving enigmatic and elusive forest dwellers like the Pukwudgie or little people. He also investigates hauntings, UFOs, strange beasts, Native American supernaturalism, ancient mysteries, and a myriad of other occult phenomena as he conducts his “supernatural safari” across the state of New York. When he’s not busily writing, conducting Haunted History Ghost tours, lecturing, or making media appearances, he’s deeply involved with East Aurora’s Arts & Crafts Movement Community, Roycroft.

After a recent lecture and intense Q&A session regarding the presence of Pukwudgies in New York, Mason kindly consented to an interview.

Bernie: Thank you for making time for The Observer’s readers. This is a topic I know they are very interested in and always want to learn more about.

Mason: No problem Bernie, glad to oblige. What would you like to know?

B: You began investigating ghosts, Native American spirituality, supernatural folklore, and general paranormal phenomenon in upper New York state back in the early nineties. Did you uncover reports of encounters with Pukwudgies and little people back then?

M: First of all, I live in Iroquois/Longhouse/Six Nations territory. Most of the material I come up with seems influenced by the Iroquoians. The Longhouse folk call their Little People either just that, or Jogao, nicknamed, “Jungies.” I did pick up a few Little People reports at the start, and they mystified me. It took awhile to recognize a pattern. I just thought each of the first few was a one- off. This is a rare apparition-category, and you simply need a lot of reports to establish a profile. It became one of the top surprises in my study of the upstate paranormal. The idea that contemporary, apparently sane witnesses, non-ghost-people, would report sightings and occasionally develop relationships with figures of mythology was a hard one to get my head around.

B: I was only familiar with reports of Pukwudgie encounters in what is called the Bridgewater Triangle and Hockomock Swamp area in Massachusetts. Are these the same individuals as they are in New York? Or are they different?

M: I presume you mean “the same species” rather than, “the same individuals.” I would rely on the insights of my Six Nations and Algonquin friends. Most of them believe that the Pukwudgies and Iroquoian Little People are the same thing. The variances in custom about their habits, nature, and appearance is pretty normal in folklore. If you believe they truly exist, it would also be normal for eyewitness reports to vary. It’s quite common for them to be reported in zones, though, and very often ones that were known for it to the earlier inhabitants.

B: Are the Algonquin Pukwudgies and the Iroquois Little People the same thing?

M: The lore and legends about them are quite similar in the big picture, and my contacts among the Six Longhouse Nations and the Algonquin people believe they are the same beings, merely witnessed in different cultural territory.
A sampling of Mason’s books

B: There are stories of little people from all over the world. Specifically, in Ireland where they are sometimes called “The Wee Folk.” Are there any similarities between this global phenomenon and western N.Y.’s little people? Could they be considered as a “lost race?”

M: The Little People are called a lot of things in Celtic countries. This is a very developed subject. There are many similarities in world tradition about the Little People. It’s one of the remarkable features of the phenomenon. I certainly wouldn’t call the Little People “a lost race,” or at least, not in any other sense than to say that one of the explanations for the existence of the Little People in folklore is that their legends are inspired by prior inhabitants of the land, perhaps marginalized populations driven out of the favorable territory to the remote areas. There they become mystery-figures and thence figures of storytelling that change over time. That, however, is only one of the handful of theories for the origin of the tradition. The true answer is probably part of all of them.

B: Are most encounters with the Pukwudgies dangerous? How do they react when they come face to face with people? And where do these run-ins most commonly take place?

M: None of the ones I’ve heard of are dangerous. Some of the folkloric encounters are potentially ill-intended. The Little People tend to be Healers and Tricksters, according to Edmund Wilson in his fine book, Apologies to the Iroquois (1969), which isn’t even focused on folklore. I confirm his observation. These diminutive supernaturals can be wrong-righters of any sort. If you need a lesson, you can get that, too. I would add this caveat: One of the customs of the Little People is that they have a fascination with human children. Sometimes they are thought to take them away. Some of the truly creepy stories in my files come from families whose children have encountered Little People. Most reported encounters take place in natural settings, though I’ve heard of a few reports of a tricky little friend who visits a child in the home. Others may be observed in a natural setting and continue to stalk the child in the dream-state.

B: Do the little people seek out interactions with humans, or do they avoid it? What would a typical, if there is a typical encounter, be like?

M: All encounters are different. Some seem to like to show themselves and even interact with humans. With most, the sighting is like that of a ghost: quick, quiet, and fleeting.

B: What about people who claim to have been “kidnapped” by these forest beings?

M: If you recall, a member of the audience asked me about the experiences of Six Nations folk who had spent time, as children or adults, in the presumed company of the Little People. “Do these people come back unharmed?” He asked. As I answered, in the storytelling of the Northeast, when adults go with the fairies, they often come back with a make-over, including new talents and sometimes dramatic physical improvement–healed, strengthened, or glamorized. In paranormal-style reports, sometimes those experiences are a little more sinister. Like not returning the child they abducted, or substituting a Changeling in its place. The rich folklore has many such tales.

I’ve never met anyone who had presumably been “taken” as a child or an adult and returned, but I’d met people who knew someone like that, often a departed family member. Some of the ones I’d heard about had happy-enough lives, but never normal ones.

B: As an investigator and writer, have you ever had a first hand experience with any of these beings? Or any other type of paranormal experiences? How about ghosts or UFOs?

M: I am not a paranormal investigator as such. I’m a writer and researcher. I do the work of a folklorist or historian in these fields, though I don’t claim either title. There’s a plague of false titles in the paranormal. The least I can do is not add to it. I have never had any personal encounter with Little People, cryptids, or UFOs. I do believe I’ve seen a few ghosts and observed some instances of other types of psychic phenomena. They were all subtle. Only after analysis did I reach the conclusion that they were more likely to be paranormal than natural.

B: To tell the truth, I am fascinated with reports of little people and Pukwudgies. Are these sightings only localized to the east coast, or do they occur in other parts of the U.S.A.? How closely associated are they with Native American tradition and beliefs?

M: Little People exist in the traditions of almost every indigenous culture of the Americas. They are common in many cultures in the European West, too. The Celtic and Germanic are perhaps the most familiar to the majority of people in the U.S. Traditions of the Little People are often very private in the cultures of many Native nations. I always tell people never to push their Native friends on this subject. You could inadvertently seriously offend them. It is still this way. I do occasionally encounter fairy-style reports coming from individuals whose ancestry is Celtic or Germanic. In those cases, the beings often correspond to the traditions of their ancestors’ part of the world. White people most often see white fairies–when they do report seeing them, of course. Likewise with indigenous Native Americans. I don’t know exactly what this says, but i’s a cultural phenomenon in itself.

B: Do you have any advice on how someone could go about searching out these beings? Do they favor certain areas over others? What should a person do if they encounter one of these races? Or would you be better off leaving them alone?

M: I don’t have any tips for spotting the Little People as I seriously doubt they or any other aspect of the paranormal come when they are called. There are traditional zones and regions in which the Little People figure in folklore about New York State and surely other parts of the world. The odds would seem to go up in one of those zones, but I can’t encourage the effort. Besides, most of these fabled zones are buried in the old records of the state, if even remembered anywhere at all in any form. We’ve displaced most of the Native Americans, in New York State, don’t forget. Few are still living on their ancestral turf, and site traditions have been lost forever. If you had a time machine and could go back to interview people–and get them talking to you–from earlier centuries, you might get somewhere.

There are several reasons for the mainstream not to accept psychic phenomena and other figments of the paranormal. One of them is that they are rarely experienced. The world overwhelmingly behaves according to material laws.

I believe incidents involving other types of psychic phenomena–ghosts, ESP, premonitions, poltergeist outbreaks–are rare, but still a Hell of a lot more common than reports of fairies. It goes that way in my files, for sure. I have hundreds of ghosts for every Little-People-story. When people ask me how they can see something paranormal, I just say to them, “Be very perceptive in your daily life.” Once in a while you may spot, hear, or feel something that shouldn’t be there. Maybe it will have a paranormal cause. You’ll seldom know. Life is not like TV.

B: Are you planning on writing a new book investigating these phantoms of the forest in greater detail?

M: I wouldn’t do a book on them in greater detail because I don’t think greater detail is there, at least not credibly. There’s only so far we can go with this stuff expecting it to be able to prove to people it exists.

B: Do you have any final thoughts on these unusual beings and our human relationship with them?

M: I have a host of them. I think I’d end by simply saying that my interest in the Little People is twofold, one pertaining to folklore and another to the psychic/paranormal. I’m interested in:

Most importantly, preserving a legacy of storytelling/folklore that I find beautiful, fascinating and unfortunately neglected.

Raising the speculation that the widespread phenomenon of Little People reports says, at the least, something profound about human perception and consciousness. There’s a pattern there, and that’s what we ought to be studying.

B: Do you have any final thoughts you'd like to share with our readers on how they can begin exploring their local lore and Native American mythologies?

M: The first step is always to go to the local historians. They will help you identify the Native nations that held the land you live on. They can guide you to whatever published material is available. One of the local colleges may hold a specialist who could guide you, too. Finally, don’t neglect the old county histories. Not many are detailed, but some hold nuggets that can really help your research. Try to track down all the references to the First Nations people in your area.

B: How can people get in touch with you to book a Haunted History Ghost Walk or speaking engagement?

M: They can visit masonwinfield.com, or message me on Facebook.

B: Thank you Mason, that was five stars all around!

M: My pleasure, Bernie. I hope readers enjoyed learning more about the little people of the Six Nations.

This article is based on Winfield’s standing room only lecture:
LITTLE PEOPLE AND PUKWUDGIES IN NEW YORK
Presented at the Pine Bush UFO and Paranormal Museum on May 2Oth, 2023.

 

Have they been throwing raves for gnomes?

Occasionally a couple show up, and lots of Moon People - they seem to love these guys. Good chants. Brings back good memories of hanging with the Sabe a long time ago.

Here's your portal tree to the Halluci Nation, who are currently on tour in support of their new album.

Here's their next 3 shows, heading South through the PNW:

Aaw’k Rock Festival - Anchorage, Alaska - 9/21
Wild Buffalo - Bellingham, WA - 9/30
The Get Down - Portland, OR - 10/1

The Halluci Nation, formerly known as A Tribe Called Red, is a Canadian electronic music group who blend instrumental hip hop, reggae, moombahton and dubstep-influenced dance music with elements of First Nations music, particularly vocal chanting and drumming. Based in Ottawa, Ontario, the group consists of Tim "2oolman" Hill (Mohawk, of the Six Nations of the Grand River), and Ehren "Bear Witness" Thomas (Cayuga First Nation)...

The group's former name was an homage to A Tribe Called Quest, a hip hop group that also had songs that addressed African American social grievances.

The group's music has been labelled as "powwow-step", a style of contemporary powwow music for urban First Nations in the dance club scene; popularized by the media as a description of the band's unique style, the term originated as the title of one of the band's own earliest singles

Wikipedia

 

Standing here, the old man said to me: "Long before these crowded streets, here stood my dreaming tree."
Below it he would sit
For hours at a time
Now progress takes away
What forever took to find
And now he's falling hard
And feels the falling dark
How he longs to be
Beneath his dreaming tree
Conquered fear to climb
The moment froze in time
When the girl who first he kissed
Promised him she'd be his
Remembered Mother's words
There beneath the tree:
"No matter what the world
You'll always be my baby"
Mommy, come quick
The dreaming tree has died
Can't find my way home
I have no place to hide
The dreaming tree has died
Oh, have you no pity?
This thing I do
I do not deny it
All through this smile
As crooked as danger
I do not deny
I know in my mind
I would leave you now
If I had the strength to
I would leave you up
To your own devices
Will you not talk?
Can you take pity?
I don't ask for much
But won't you speak, please?
From the start
She knew she had it made
Easy up 'til then
For sure she'd make the grade
Adorers came in hordes
To lay down in her way
She gave it all she had
And treasures slowly faded
Now, she's falling hard
She feels the fall of dark
How did this fall apart?
She drinks to fill the dark
A smile as sweet as flowers
Wilted so and soured
Black tears stain the cheeks
That once were so admired
She thinks when she was small
There on her father's knee
How he had promised her:
"You'll always be my baby"
Daddy, come quick
The dreaming tree has died
I can't find my way home
There is no place to hide
The dreaming tree has died
Oh, if I had the strength to
I would leave you up
To your own devices
Will you not talk?
Can you take pity?
I don't ask for much
Won't you speak, please?
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Take me back
Save me, please

 

Thus reviewing the eventful past, we see Nature working with enthusiasm like a man, blowing her volcanic forges like a blacksmith
blowing his smithy fires, shoving glaciers over the landscapes like a carpenter shoving his planes, clearing, ploughing, harrowing, irrigating, planting, and sowing broadcast like a farmer and gardener, doing rough work and fine work, planting sequoias and pines, rose-bushes and daisies; working in gems, filling every crack and hollow with them; distilling fine essences; painting plants and shells, clouds, mountains, all the earth and heavens, like an artist, — ever working toward beauty higher and higher. Where may the mind find more stimulating, quickening pasturage? A thousand Yellowstone wonders are calling, "Look up and down and round about you!" And a multitude of still, small voices may be heard directing you to look through all this transient, shifting show of things called "substantial" into the truly substantial spiritual world whose forms flesh and wood, rock and water, air and sunshine, only veil and conceal, and to learn that here is heaven and the dwelling-place of the angels.

The sun is setting; long, violet shadows are growing out over the woods from the mountains along the western rim of the park; the Absaroka range is baptized in the divine light of the alpenglow, and its rocks and trees are transfigured. Next to the light of the dawn on high mountain tops, the alpenglow is the most impressive of all the terrestrial manifestations of God.

Now comes the gloaming. The alpenglow is fading into earthy, murky gloom, but do not let your town habits draw you away to the hotel. Stay on this good fire-mountain and spend the night among the stars. Watch their glorious bloom until the dawn, and get one more baptism of light. Then, with fresh heart, go down to your work, and whatever your fate, under whatever ignorance or knowledge you may afterward chance to suffer, you will remember these fine, wild views, and look back with joy to your wanderings in the blessed old Yellowstone Wonderland.

-The Yellowstone National Park, pg. 178


John Muir (/mjʊər/ MURE; April 21, 1838 – December 24, 1914),[1] also known as "John of the Mountains" and "Father of the National Parks", [self-published source] was a Scottish-born American: naturalist, author, environmental philosopher, botanist, zoologist, glaciologist, and early advocate for the preservation of wilderness in the United States.

His letters, essays, and books describing his adventures in nature, especially in the Sierra Nevada, have been read by millions. His activism helped to preserve the Yosemite Valley and Sequoia National Park, and his example has served as an inspiration for the preservation of many other wilderness areas. The Sierra Club, which he co-founded, is a prominent American conservation organization. In his later life, Muir devoted most of his time to the preservation of the Western forests. As part of the campaign to make Yosemite a national park, Muir published two landmark articles on wilderness preservation in The Century Magazine, "The Treasures of the Yosemite" and "Features of the Proposed Yosemite National Park"; this helped support the push for US Congress to pass a bill in 1890 establishing Yosemite National Park.[6] The spiritual quality and enthusiasm toward nature expressed in his writings has inspired readers, including presidents and congressmen, to take action to help preserve large nature areas

Wikipedia


As a species, y'all need a lot less cars and lot more Muir. A toast of honeywine to this fine old goat - of all of you little hairless things, he knew the song that the forest sings.

 

"I think it's time to discuss your philosophy of drug use as it relates to artistic endeavor"
Check it, yo, I always hit the tape with the rough road styles
You heard the psychedelic and ya came from miles
Keep my rhymes thick like a Guinness brew
So you could call me black and tan when I'm a wreckin' a crew
I'm like Bill Lee writing when he's in Tangier's
And now I'm on a soul safari with my Beatnik peers
Analog reel and a little distortion
Smokin' on somethin's you could say I'm scorchin'
I never been the type to brag but beware
I'll make a man burn his draft card like it was hair
Send ya up the river like you lookin' for Kurtz
I got the mugwump jism up in every verse
I always hit the apple when I'm going to shoot
So you can call me William Tell or Agent Cooper to boot
Mr. Mojo Risin' on the case again
So tell your mother and your sister and your sister's friends
Like an exterminator running low on dust
I'm bug powder itchin' and it can't be trussed
Inter zone trippin' and I'm off to Annexia
I gotta get a typewriter that's sexier
My name is Justin and that's all, that's it
And I'll be spittin' rhymes wicked like it ain't no shit
Houses of the Holy like Jimmy Page
But the song remains the same so I'm stuck in a rage
Just like Jane when she's going to Spain
I think I'm going away tomorrow, just a fool in the rain
Light up the candles and bless the room
I'm paranoid, snow blind, just a black meat fool
Bug powder dust an' mugwump jism
The wild boys runnin' 'round Interzone trippin'
Letter to control about the Big Brother
Trying like Hart to not blow my cover
Bug powder dust an' mugwump jism
The wild boys runnin' 'round Interzone trippin'
Letter to control about the Big Brother
Trying like Hart to not blow my cover
Never been a fake and I'm never phony
I got more flavor than the packet in macaroni
Rock drippin' from my every vowel
I've got the soul of the sixties like Ginsberg's Howl
Shootin' mad ball and I'm always jukin'
Take you to the hole and I'm surely hoopin'
Top of the pops like the Lulu's show
I'll take a walk on Abbey Road with my shoes of soul
I got a splinter though, damn, you know man it hurt
I got a Vegemite sandwich from Men at Work
I keep minds in line, but time sublimes
So when you search you find something like a gold mine
A psychedelic meanderings in the poem
I got a paddock in any place that I roam
Waiting for the sun on a Spanish caravan
Solar eclipse and I'm feeling like starin' man
Bug powder dust an' mugwump jism
The wild boys runnin' 'round Interzone trippin'
Letter to control about the Big Brother
Trying like Hart to not blow my cover
Bug powder dust an' mugwump jism
The wild boys runnin' 'round Interzone trippin'
Letter to control about the Big Brother
Trying like Hart to not blow my cover
Who's that man in the windowpane
Got somethin' on his tongue and it's startin' to stain
Sho' nuff equip so I can get down
Step up on my ladder and you'll get beat down
Hash bar style so I'm singin' day glow
Wakin' up the dead like Serpent and the Rainbow
Jeff Spicoli roll me another hay
The Fish that Saved Pittsburgh with Dr. J
Shockin' your ass like a faulty vibrator
Hear me now, but you'll probably get the vibe later
Who knows where the wicked wind blows
Que sera sera just leave it alone
Great Space Coaster toast up the town
Makin' midgets with my man Dr. Shrinker
Pass the hookah, throw down the pillows
Cloth on the ceiling, blow rings that billow
Kick off the shoes and relax your feet
Now roll up your sleeves for this lyrical treat
Bug powder dust an' mugwump jism
The wild boys runnin' 'round Interzone trippin'
Letter to control about the Big Brother
Trying like Hart to not blow my cover
Bug powder dust an' mugwump jism
The wild boys runnin' 'round Interzone trippin'
Letter to control about the Big Brother
Trying like Hart to not blow my cover
"I think it's time for you boys to share my last taste
Of the true black meat
The flesh of the giant aquatic Brazilian Centipede"

Bug Power Dust on Wikipedia

I fucking love Brazillian centipede. Sounds like it might be time to head out to Interzone with Dean.

[–] [email protected] 1 points 1 year ago* (last edited 1 year ago)

So here's the deal.

First off, the Valley of Fire is huge - we're talking Grand Canyon sized, pocketed with open pools of magma and molten rivers. Where the fire doesn't flow, the jungle consumes all. Ferns taller than me, vines the size of your tight, and mosquitos the size of passenger pigeons. Don't even get me started on the damn dragonflies. At 90 degrees in the shade with near 100% humidity, it's not a pleasant hike, so by the time I got to the cage match, I was completely exhausted and soaking in sweat.

I was in no mood to be served with a child support subpoena, so I can't be blamed for slugging the birdman who delivered it. Asshole shot me in the nuts with an energy beam afterwards and then sent me a bill with another subpoena for a personal injury lawsuit.

So it's good we're getting out of town right now. But I digress.

It turns out that about 80 years ago, back when I was the drummer for Wyldtoe and the Squatches, we had played in a tiki bar just inside of a vortex in Sedona (before the place was crawling with hippies). I met this groupie, a redhead, Mogollia, and we got... intimate.

I never heard from her again, and thought that was the end of it. But apparently she moved from Sedona through the vortex to the Valley of Fire to raise our son - goddamit - I mean daughter.

That's where things got complicated and I screwed up. The child support paperwork was filled out for a boy, specifically a boy named Moon Boy, and when I calmed down I decided to go and talk to Mogollia and meet my kid.

So I get to their thatch hut, and knock on the door. A young girl answers, and I say "Hi, I'm looking for Moon Boy. I'm his fath-" but then she yells at me about deadnames and deadbeats and slams the door in my face. "It's Moon GIRL you worthless asshole!" she shouts out the window.

To make things worse, that's when Devil Dinosaur decides to show up. Because it was in the back yard. It's her damn pet. So this thing starts chasing after me for making Moon Girl cry and I can't kill my kid's pet. Even if it is a forty foot tall hellspawn from the Jurassic.

At that point, I figured it was best to cut my losses. So I pulled the old disappearing Sasquatch trick and slipped into the jungle, which didn't go over well. "Yeah, that's all you're good for, LEAVING!"

I spent a couple of nights out there trying to figure out what to do, because each time I tried to go back the damn tyrannosaur would chase me away. So I finally sent a letter by messenger raptor apologizing, but I haven't heard back yet. I mean, I was honestly trying to do the right thing.

I hope she forgives me.

Pass me that bong, willya?

[–] [email protected] 1 points 1 year ago* (last edited 1 year ago) (1 children)

Solid tunes - always wanted to play the sax but my fingers are too big. Didja know that music was why we didn't hunt you guys to extinction back during the Ice Age? Aside from birds and the dolphins, you guys make the best music on this planet.

But if I'm gonna tell a story set in the Valley of Fire, we need some Spitfire on the radio to go with these infected... err I mean totally sanitary mushrooms.

[–] [email protected] 1 points 1 year ago (2 children)

Look little man, it's a long story and involves family, and we gotta hit the road before the crow finds out we're gone. Tell ya what - jump in the back, have a bite of one of these blue portabello beauties, and I'll tell you the whole thing. Plus, turns out the Valley of Fire has a lot of diamonds - grabbed a fistful on my way out. I'll spot you at the Tropicana for the weekend. Deal?

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