The many many things that people would ask God if they were to ever meet him would be probably:

• Why are we here?
• What is our purpose?
• Why do people die?
• Why do people suffer?
• Are there any other intelligent life out there?

Me? What would I ask you say? Mine is simple. I’ve thought about it for quite a while. Of course, the idea originated in the bathroom while taking a porcelain cruise. As all good thoughts do. (doo doo? heh)

Anyhow, I’ve decided that my one question would be “What is your favorite joke?”. A close second would be “What do you want most?”.

I’d probably stick with the joke one though. It just seems like it’d be the best way to do it. No come off with that boring shit questions everyone else has already asked and will continue asking. Me? I wanna see what the Lord and Creator of All Things finds funny.

I can theorize that it’s probably a good practical joke.

~M.

You know what we need? Little goblins that follow us around and jump up and slap us on the back of the head (also known as Gibbsing) when we’re about to do something particularly stupid or idiotic.

“Oh…hey…heheheh Have you guys heard the one abou *LEAP* *SLAP* *GOBLIN GIGGLE*
OWWW Shit. Nevermind….”

He could actually escalate depending on the severity of how much it’ll make you look like an ass.

Think of it. From Gibbsing all the way up to Scrotum Shots! I’ve got the ad right now:

*****
YOU TOO COULD BE SAVED FROM EMBARRASSING MOMENTS!!! Just purchase the IDIOCY GOBLIN! That’s right folks! WE’VE ALL been in that particular situation where we’re not thinking in our right state of minds. Too intoxicated? Not enough sleep? In a foul mood? Just not with it? WE’VE GOT YOUR SOLUTION RIGHT HERE! This stalwart young goblin from a nice abusive family will love nothing more than to abuse you. Rigorously trained by our expert Goblineers with only the best leather straps and top of the line cattle prods, they live to serve you in ways you wouldn’t believe.

Not only do they save you from your moments of weakness, they will also keep track of your bank account. (GOOD LUCK TRYING TO GET IT BACK THOUGH!!!)
But I digress. The main focus is this young chap to keep you from doing something stupid.

*FLASH TO A SMOKEY, DIMLY LIT BAR*

Bartender: “Aight! Last call!!!”

Ordering a drink, Charles, who hasn’t had much luck with the ladies tonight, notices a rather hefty woman with makeup that looks like it was applied with a paint roller. Glancing around as he receives his brew, he sighs and thinks to himself “She’ll be a night flyer”.

(For those of you that don’t know, a night flyer is one of those women ((or men in some cases…like for women….or men who like to pretend they’re women…)), where you open the door, and put newspaper down as she walks, and you turn off all the lights. You put a bag over her head and your head too just in case. Darkness is her friend. You pretend really hard that it’s someone else or maybe even something else. Then, after the deed is done, you curl up in the corner of the shower sobbing, and trod back to your bed only to find that there is not enough room with that seamoose in it. You set the alarm for five minutes before dawn so you can make a hasty excuse about going to work and getting her out of the house.

Only to find that she doesn’t want to go, she wants to stay or worse for you to give her a ride… So you slap enough money in her hand for bus fare and point her toward the bus stop and speed off in your car saying you’re late to keep to the lie…only to notice that you’re in your pajamas.

and the nosy, gossiping bitch of a neighbor has seen you with her…
and you left your house unlocked and she’s probably in there eating the refrigerator….yes the whole thing.)

All of that flashes through his mind in a mere second, he pulls himself up and gathers his courage, for he will need it to face what’s to come.

In the middle of his first step toward her he hears a sound as if someone exerting themselves…the next moment, he’s lying on the floor clutching his groin, and faintly hears “Oy! I don’t think so mate. Saved your penis, I did…” followed by a green hand coming into his field of vision to collect his slightly spilled brew…

*FADE OUT*

****

See! It would work perfectly! Everyone would be happy. Well…except for the morons who can’t keep from doing stupid shit…

I was asked if I am happy that my old band Seventh Story went on “indefinite hiatus” or went “bust”, quit, whatever. I’m going to summarize here and just say: No.

I was a part of that band in the beginning. I was part of it in the middle. I’m part of it in the end. Regardless of what anyone may think or say, I was still apart of that band when my tenure as drummer was up. I still am a part of it. I love that band. From the lowest roots Dylan and I grew and fertilized it with bullshit and tender loving care. A bassist turned vocalist, guitarist and second drummer came and went. Technically I was the second drummer. So the first one came and went.

From the demo of “Concrete Parachute” (a play on the name we would hold up for the next two “albums”.), to Asphalt Icarus, it was a group of close knit friends, doing nothing but having fun. We took it more serious and Dylan did vocals, Jess on bass, and myself on backing vocals with Jess and of course, drums. Then came HERE. The “Demo” or full “ep” or “album”. Named after the big yellow sign for the start of what was going to be what the band was ultimately known as, the parties.

Dylan and I did a stint on New Years Eve, just him and I. Taking shots, and giving tunes. Got to love memories. I love the band. It still exists in all our hearts, especially mine. I’m happy to have been a part of it, give the band the name that would be known throughout Madison, Bedford, Milton and beyond! I Have the logo graffiti tattooed on, along with plans for Warehouse 86. I don’t regret it one bit.

I remember coming in second at battle of the bands.

I remember the Sunday practices. We preached music as the good word and the bandroom was our pulpit.

I remember when we first started and I collapsed of exhaustion and Dylan started playing a diddy that became known as Eulogy.
I remember taking keys at the parties.
I remember refusing to give them back.
I remember playing the show where Dylan met Manwhich.

So much good has come from this…I’m sad, but I back my friends up to their fullest. Seventh Story is a name that shall live on in the infamy…