Keith Spillett
I have a lot of strange debris rattling around my mind that I need to work out in a useful way.
Homepage: https://tyrannyoftradition.wordpress.com
The Evangelical Church of Jordan
Posted in Blithering Sports Fan Prattle, General Weirdness on May 18, 2011
Jordan Ascends
The Year is 2223. Reverend Scott E. Pippen the 29th stands in front of his congregation of 24,000 with his arms raised high in the air. He is a tall man, about 6 feet 8. He is wearing a gown with the number 23 embroidered on the front in gold. He is up on a stage with a golden basketball hoop mounted behind him. A hush falls over the capacity crowd.
“Today, I’d like to talk to you about greatness. Many religions have valued different things over the years. Some of the religions praised self-restraint, while others loved commitment and dedication. These qualities can be very good things, but their followers seemed to miss the bigger point. Trying really hard is not enough. In order to truly be worthy of God’s love you must win!”
“AMEN!!!!” screams a parishioner.
“The people of olden times used to worship martyrs! Do you believe it? They would cast their lot with people who tried really hard….but lost! Those martyrs were great men, but they couldn’t figure out how to triumph over evil. Sure, they would say that some of their martyrs rose from the dead, but many people had trouble believing that part. There wasn’t enough proof. Maybe they were successful, but they weren’t able to pull it off on the big stage! I mean, most messiahs wouldn’t make it in the NBA as a 12th man for the New Jersey Nets. For years, we could only choose between this losing messiah, that losing messiah or sometimes a messiah that hadn’t even shown up yet! Can you believe it people?”
“NO!!!!!” shouted the crowd wildly.
“Thankfully, on February 17th, 1963, that holiest of days, Michael Jordan was born in a barn in Brooklyn, New York. As a child, Jordan was a good player, but certainly not the messiah we know him as today. Everyone by now has heard the story of how he was cut from his High School basketball team. This was the first in a series of setbacks for His Airness, but each time he was given an obstacle, he learned how to climb over it and most importantly HOW…..TO…….WIN!!!!!!”
The crowd bursts into thunderous applause.
“When Georgetown tried to slow him down in the 1982 NCAA Final…HE WON! When the Pistons and Celtics stopped him early in his career he came back and….HE WON!!!! When the Knicks attacked and beat him game after game he rose up and….HE WON!!!!!! When Jordan retired for the third time, after his sixth NBA title everyone thought that was finished. Then, as a 60 year old man, Jordan returned to the NBA and led the Chicago Bulls to four more titles. Age tried to beat him down but…..HE WON!!!!!”
“JUST DO IT!!!!” screams the crowd.
“Those old-fashioned religions used to talk about an afterlife. They were preaching the gospel of weakness. Today, we know that the dead are just quitters! When Jordan turned 100 he proclaimed that he would never die. He went up to his basketball court built on the side of the greatest mountaintop and that is where he is still today. No one has talked to him in years, but he has promised that one day he will not only return to us, but return to the NBA. One day, when you go to your weekend sports temple to show your commitment to God and your home team he will emerge from the tunnel and HE…..WILL……PLAY………….AGAIN!!!!!!!!”
“YES!!!!!” “JUST DO IT!!!!!!” “AMEN!!!!!!”
“Those old fashioned religions told you that God loved everyone. Jordan taught us that they were wrong! The truth is that GOD LOVES A WINNER! You prove your devotion to him not by being beaten down by the opponent but though VICTORY! God has no time for losers. He will not give you a trophy just for competing. He has no time for lesser men. He is not going to hold your hand and tell you it is okay to fail. God values results! The simple truth is that God Hates Losers!!!!”
“PREACH IT!!!!” JUST DO IT!!!!”
“Jordan came to save us all from the pain and humiliation of losing. Whenever there is someone buying a pair of His Sneakers….HE’LL BE THERE! Whenever there is a team the overcomes the evil of losing….HE’LL BE THERE! And when we buy His shoes and praise His name and WHEN WE WIN……….HE’LL………BE……….THERE…..……TOOOOOO!”
The crowd erupts into a screaming, howling frenzy.
“And now I present to you the top ranked choir in the entire world….The beautiful and talented Jordan-Airs!!!!!!”
The choir begins to sing and basketball players in different throwback Jordan uniforms dunk golden basketballs into the hoop above the stage…
“To The Temple of Jordan Our Savior Went One Day,
And We Read That Phil The Baptist Met Him There,
And When Jordan Scored 60 in the Finals Versus Philly
The Mighty Power of God Filled The Air.
I’m On My Way
To The Temple of Jordan
Were Going To Win
At The Temple of Jordan
And Victory Will Cleanse My Soul”
Six Important Lessons You Should Be Teaching Your Children
Posted in Parenting Tips For Those With Children, Pointyheaded Highbrow Stuff on May 16, 2011
We, at The Tyranny of Tradition, are proud to present today’s guest writer, Jonathan Winthrop. Winthrop is a conservative columnist, syndicated talk radio host, all-around great American and a proud parent of four boys (McCarthy 12, Reagan 8, Goldwater 6, and Huckabee 2). He is the President and co-founder of Americans for Progressive Corporal Punishment, a group committed to teaching family values to bad parents. He is the author of several New York Times best-sellers including “12 Easy Steps to Teaching Your Child To Fear and Respect Authority Figures” “Attila The Huns’ Strategies To Being a Better Parent”, and “Look Mom, No Values: A Parents Guide To Living In A Fallen World”.
Good American Children At Play
I know, I know, your young children are learning lots of bad habits from television and from that Odd Future Wolfgang Kill’em All rap album you just bought them. Parenting can be a tough job. But, parenting is the most important job in the entire world. After all, without children there wouldn’t be adults. If there weren’t adults, who would be there to produce a lasting supply of inexpensive consumer goods. Without inexpensive consumer goods, what would drive our economy? As you can see, without children, our world would quickly turn into a communistic hell on earth. I’ve put together a list of six really important lessons that you should be teaching your children so that they don’t end up hooked on crack-cocaine or becoming a “community organizer”.
Don’t Talk To Strangers
It’s the oldest piece of advice in the book. Strangers are a threat under all circumstances, particularly when they dress like they are in 1970s cop films or have foreign accents. If your child doesn’t know a person, chances are that person is looking to cause them terrible harm. Strangers have done terrible things throughout history. John Hinkley was a stranger to Ronald Reagan when he tried to assassinate him back in 1981. Had Reagan died there is no doubt that an Iron Curtain would have descended on the United States stifling freedom for the next thousand years. Be a good role model for your children by ignoring anyone who asks you for help and not saying hello to anyone unless you have known them for at least three years.
Don’t Be A Sucker
Lots of people are trying to take your money from you all the time. Sometimes, they want to give you valuable things in return like toaster ovens or televisions with picture-in-picture capability. Sometimes, they are looking to take your money and use it on drugs or food. Most people on the street simply can’t be trusted. If they are behind the counter at a reputable store in a good part of town, that’s one thing, but according to a study done by the Heritage Corporation 97 percent of people who are who live in bad parts of town are either “highly dangerous”, “just can’t be trusted” or are “too lazy to go out and earn a living.” Do not give them money under any circumstances. It will contribute to a vicious cycle of poverty and Islamic radicalism.
Don’t Let Other People Blame You For Their Problems
Just because you were born in the greatest country in the history of the human race doesn’t mean you should feel bad about it. Most people are looking to blame you for their problems when their suffering is actually caused by the fact that they have made bad decisions. Everyone starts equal in this life. Don’t let their statistics about people being “born in poverty” confuse you. According to a study done by the American Freedom and Values Council For A Freer America, 96 percent of Americans who are wealthy have better morals and make better decisions than those who make less than 50,000 dollars a year. You are where you are because you worked harder than anyone making less than you. Teach your children to be proud of what they have achieved and scornful of those who haven’t achieved as much.
You’d Be Better Off If It Weren’t For Them
Social programs like affirmative action and gun restriction laws have weakened most Americans’ ability to live a happy, free and safe life. Teach your children to be active participants in government by stopping the government from taking your money and giving it to other people just because they are “hungry” or unable to provide themselves with adequate shelter. Thomas Jefferson once said something like “Government is the enemy of free people everywhere, particularly when it gives the money of hard working people to undeserving losers.” He was right. Teach your children that government and special interest groups like illegal aliens are responsible for most, if not all, of their problems. That way, when they become adults they will have absolutely no problem getting rid of government organizations that are slowly rotting America away like the Food and Drug Administration.
Without Math We Would No Longer Be Free
America has fallen behind in math test scores around the world. According to a study done by the Americans For a Freer Society With Better Test Scores, 103 percent of American 8th graders can barely count up to five. If this trend continues our children are going to become adults who are unable to figure out how much of their weekly check goes to building important tools of peace like stealth bombers and aircraft carriers. They will never be able to experience the joy and pride one feels when counting how many more nuclear missiles we have compared to the rest of the world. Then, they will never know how truly lucky they are.
Dissecting CARCASS’ “Heartwork” – First Incision…Buried Dreams
Posted in Notes on Carcass Heartwork, Pointyheaded Highbrow Stuff, The Poetry of Death on May 13, 2011
Heartwork, the 1993 release by Carcass, is easily one of the most compelling metal albums ever recorded. First and foremost, it is an explosion of monstorous guitar riffs, frenetic drumming and raging energy. The music is captivating and overwhelming. Heartwork is a remarkably powerful lyrical album that deals intelligently with issues like globalization, dehumanization and existential dread. The music has been widely praised by many music journalists. The lyrics, however, have been given scant attention. Jeff Walker, the band’s singer, bass player and chief lyricist, envisions a world that is entirely devoid of human feeling or empathy. Walker’s adept use of language, particularly double entendre, lays bare the man’s inhumanity in all of its baseness. His world is an empty one, filled only with sorrow, guilt and deep-seated hatred.
The album behaves like a book, each song a chapter examining a set of widely held beliefs and contrasting them with his vision of a world gone completely insane. Over the next few months, I will attempt to analyze the themes and ideas song by song in an attempt to convey the inventiveness of Walker’s lyrics as well as the perspicacity of his message.
Buried Dreams
Welcome, to a world of hate
A life of buried dreams
Smothered, by the soils of fate
Welcome, to a world of pain
Bitterness your only wealth
The sand of time kicked in your face
Rubbed in your face
When aspirations are squashed
When life’s chances are lost
When all hope is gone
When expectations are quashed
When self-esteem is lost
When ambition is mourned
…All you need is hate
In futility, for self-preservation
We all need someone
Someone to hate
Buried Dreams is a nightmare vision of a world completely unconnected to its humanity. It serves as an overview of the themes that are addressed in each song and is a great starting point because it contains the most unambiguous lines on the record. In Walker’s “world of hate”, humans begin their journey in life filled with hope only to see that hope slowly eroded by the fixed nature of reality. This reality is the death and pain experienced by all humanoid beings. It is immovable, unchangeable and constant. Humans search blindly in the dark for some reason, some deeper meaning that will connect the dots and make the pain they experience intelligible. We fill ourselves with illusions in order to soften the blow of this horrible truth. As the truth becomes more real, we grasp harder at the illusion but ones commitment to an illusion will never make that deception a reality. We slowly come to terms with the understanding that there is no connection, there is no one tending the fire and the center simply does not hold. Once this veneer of meaning has been stripped away there is nothing left to hold onto but pure visceral hatred.
By experiencing hatred for something, we are given the ability to overcome our basic alienation from ourselves all the while connecting to the other beings around us. Love would be another way to connect, but the drawback of love is that it is fleeting. Its initial joy is snuffed out by the understanding that our basic existential problem, death, will cause love to one day give way to sorrow and despair. If you connect with hatred you never have to feel loss because the eventual vanquishing of your foe will be greeted with a feeling of joy and accomplishment. No one mourns the death of their enemy.
On the surface, the lyrics could be read as a simplistic explanation of the rise of fascism in Europe in the 30s and 40s. A society like Germany, which was drowning in debt and filled with impoverished humans recovering from the insanity of years of mindless trench warfare, was ready for the message of hate that Hitler brought. I believe the song is meant to have much more of a timeless message with broader overtones about the human condition. The line that universalizes this song is “in futility, for self-preservation, we all need someone…someone to hate.” This is a Hobbesian view of a world of beings so frightened of death that they are willing to do anything to avoid it, even if they know that their actions are eventually pointless. We are willing to create a Leviathan that may kill us for our disobedience in order to be safe. The wall each of us run into is death and we are willing to embrace any idea that allows us to fully avoid thinking about our eventual consequence. We are willing to embrace ideas that are self-destructive in order to escape the fear of death. If this isn’t true, then how do you explain war? This horrible irony of our basic condition is that we long to avoid death, but we do so in a way that often hastens its coming.
And so our dreams are buried as we are carried kicking and screaming to our own certain demise. We mask our fears with delusions of enemies all around us. We think that we can stop the inevitable if we bomb that thing or execute this thing but with our last dying breath we are reminded of the futility of all of it. Even hate cannot save us. The final, horrible irony of our Buried Dreams is that we will eventually be buried next to them.
(I am pretty darned excited to announce that this series will also be running at MindOverMetal.org, one of my favorite metal sites. Special thanks to my homeboy Metal Matt Longo who not only agreed to run the thing, but even gave me a fantastic title for the series and some killer editing ideas. Anyway those dudes speak truth and wisdom over there, check’em out)
Gucci Mane’s Original Version of Lemonade
Posted in General Weirdness on May 10, 2011
Probably my weirdest hobby is rifling through the trash of my neighbors. They seem to find it annoying and even frightening, but I think it’s important to get to know the people around you. One of my neighbors happens to be Radric “Gucci Mane” Davis. Mr. Zone 6 and I haven’t spoken much, although he once complemented me on the azaleas we are growing in our garden. He tends to like to keep to himself.
I have been going through his garbage regularly for about a year and a half. I haven’t found much worthwhile. I can tell you he eats a good amount of pimento cheese and is a regular user of Rogaine. Beyond that information, the only thing I ever found in there that was worthwhile was this copy of the original lyrics from his hit song “Lemonade”. I like this version much more than the original, but Gucci knows a lot more about making hit music than I do.
Anyway, here’s a Tyranny of Tradition exclusive! The original lyrics from Lemonade….
Lemonade
By Gucci Mane
Yellow eeerrrrything
Yellow Cars
Yellow Rims
Yellow Shirts
Patent Yellow Leather Garanimals
Yellow Teeth
Yellow Spleen
Yellow Orangutans
Yellow Baby Pandas
Yellow Dinosaurs
Yellow Fin Tuna
Bacon Lemonade in the Cheese Cup
Bag of Shoulder Blades in a Periodontal Disease Cup
Baking Lemonade in a Cheese Cup
Military Blockade of the Sleaze Pluck
The Romans invented Yellow
Yellow was a verb until 1943
Yellow is a mixture of blue and green
I painted my house Yellow
I painted my cat Yellow
My wife and I paint each other Yellow
I cleaned my sink with Yellow Drano
Donovan sang about Yellow
Bacon Flavored Waves in a Sneeze Cup
Feeling Vague Unease at Seeing My Wife’s Lung
Bag of Frozen Peas and a Pork Chop
Drinkin’ Mayonnaise from a Tea Cup
My uncle comes from a planet where all the women are Yellow (BURR)
They ride on Yellow hovercrafts that are made of Yellow Martian flesh (BURR)
The capital of Ottawa is Yellow (BURR)
I’ve seen the greatest minds of my generation destroyed by Yellow
What rough Yellow beast, it’s hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be Born
The square root of 27 is yellow
Yellow, a priest and a rabbi walk into a bar, bartender says “Is this some kind of joke?”
Lemon Yellow sun, arms raised in a V
Yellow was the reason they passed the 28th Amendment
If it weren’t for Yellow all the settlers at Jamestown would have died (BURR)
Yellow was the third Vice President of the United States and killed Alexander Hamilton in a duel (BURR)
15 General Lee’s in a Pigs Skull
I Feel No Burning Need for the Speeze Guck
Missed The NBA Because My Knees Suck
Boiling Bag of Fleas in A Pink Lung
Rock The Cradle of Filth
Posted in The Poetry of Death on May 8, 2011
Scream For Me Kindercare!!!!!
Reconciling your life as a headbanger with your life as the parent of small children is not always easy. Questions like “Should I play my 3 year old the entire Bathory discography before he starts kindergarten?” or “Should she really be wearing that Gorgoroth onesie to her 2nd birthday party?” are standard fare for metalheads who have decided to become parents. Thanks to the wonders of capitalism, there is a purchase that solves nearly every possible human dilemma. This case is no exception. A company known as Rockabye Baby! has lullaby renditions of some of your favorite metal and hard rock artists. If you want to fill your child’s head with Black Sabbath, Tool or Nine Inch Nails songs as they drift off into dreamland, you can do it!
I recently picked up the crown jewel in the Rockabye Baby! collection, Lullaby Renditions of Metallica. The description on the website said the following…” Say your prayers, little one. Tonight these gentle versions of Metallica’s essential masterpieces of metal will gently rock you to sleep. Enter sandman.” I had to buy it. Immediately.
Funny thing is, it’s really a great record. The songs hold true to the originals without scaring my children into hellish nightmares about bats eating their brains. The version of “Fade To Black” is downright wonderful. I catch myself listening to it before I go to bed from time to time. I think I like the interpretation of “Wherever I May Roam” on here more than the one on the Black Album. Michael Armstrong, the composer of this album, is a Metallica fan with the rare ability to write beautiful children’s music.
The record contains mostly Metallica hits, although Anesthesia (Pulling Teeth) makes an appearance. It’s not a great take on the tune, but it will be nice car music for our first trip to the dentist. As a whole, however, the song selection is a bit lacking. I was really hoping to have the chance to indoctrinate my children to the wonders of “Trapped Under Ice”, but alas, that may never happen. He did have the good sense to not put any Saint Anger songs on. The last thing I need in my life is having to tell my son or daughter “Stop humming Invisible Kid or you are going to your room!!!!!”
The full Rockabye Baby! catalog looks like it might be worth checking out. I bet the Pink Floyd one sounds great even though the Syd Barrett years are completely ignored. There are a few records in the catalog that would be good to have around if you run out of syrup of ipecac and your child swallows a quart of Drano. Nothing would induce vomiting faster than having to hear the lullaby sounds of Coldplay or U2. On their website, they actually have a place where you can request what band they will cover next. I’ve spent the better portion of the morning recommending they do an Emperor cover album. After about 500 times I stopped, but I plan on getting back to it later today. I Am The Black Wizards as a lullaby…think about it! If you have a moment, please drop by their site and submit as many votes as you can.
Metamorphosis on Main Street: A Psychological Review of Graveyard’s “Hisingen Blues”
Posted in General Weirdness, Pointless Music Reviews, Pointyheaded Highbrow Stuff, The Poetry of Death on May 5, 2011
I started off trying to review Graveyard’s new album Hisingen Blues. Things were going really well. I had a neat little intro where I talked about their 70’s retro sound and compared them to a few bands. There was a cool section where I discussed the driving intensity of their sound and compared them to a freight train. It was going really well. All that is gone now. All that is left is chaos, despair and panic. I’m sitting in my car in the parking lot of a Burger King fast food. It’s 4:47 in the morning. How did I get here?
I was writing the review at the kitchen table. My wife and kids were playing in the other room. In the distance, I heard the vaguely menacing sounds of Dora The Explorer. My ears were much more attuned to magniloquent sounds of the song Hisingen Blues by Graveyard. I’d listened to the album a few times, but kept coming back to the title track. “WHERE IS THE FUTURE?!?!?!?!”
I was grooving to the song. I closed my eyes. The next thing I knew my wife was screaming. “WHAT ARE YOU!?!!?!??!?!? GET OUT OF HERE!!?!?!?!”
I tried to say “Honey, it’s just me. Why are you screaming?” But it came out “Kjqgjgnqrwlkgnjwqrngljnwrjlgnlg?”. I sounded like the creature in the Predator movies when it tried to talk. What was happening?
My wife picked up a broom and started hitting me. “Stop it!” (“Njndgjlqwrnlgkn!”) The sounds that came out of me only made her more frightened. I ran upstairs. Suddenly, I started thinking about our cat. I have to eat the cat. I have to eat the cat. I sprinted around the bedroom looking for the cat. I thought of how good the cat would taste. I have to eat the cat. “WHERE IS THE FUTURE!?” echoed in my minds ear. I need to eat the cat. It would be so delicious. I have to eat the cat. I looked under the bed, I looked in the shower. I looked in the closet on my wife’s red sweater where it likes to sleep. All at once it occurred to me that we don’t have a cat.
I looked into the mirror. What looked back at me was horrifying. Green neck, green skin, pointy nose, scales. I was…..a lizard!!!!!!! Dear God….A LIZARD!!!!!! I ran downstairs to try to explain it to my wife. She had both of the kids in her arms and she was screaming into her cell phone. “SDGASFHAFSHERJJET!” I pleaded.
“Get away you…..BEAST! What have you done with my husband????”
My children’s eyes were filled with confusion. I was not daddy anymore. I was some “thing” that they could not possibly understand. Some “thing” they conjured up in a nightmare, but not daddy. “WHERE IS THE FUTURE!?!!?!!” My wife’s eyes gleamed with hate and fear. I was a stranger to them.
I grabbed my keys and ran out of the front door towards my car. Our neighbor was blissfully jogging up the street with her headphones on. At first, she did not notice me. All at once her face grew pale. She turned and sprinted away from me. I leaped in my car. Could I even drive? Could I get the key in the ignition? My lizard fingers clumsily pushed the key in and I was off to somewhere. But where?
Most of the last nine hours has been about staying alive. I have cat scratch marks all over me that I cannot explain. I feel the empty exhaustion of a sleepless night. I don’t remember much of what has happened, but I am here. Soon, the sun will rise. I have to stay safe. There is no room for my kind on the street. Not among the animals. Not in the daylight.
And what of my condition? How did I end up here? Something in the song brought me to this place. I have become the poetry of doom and horror. Something in the song turned me into this creature. Something inside of me, both wretched and righteous, has escaped and become my form. “WHERE IS THE FUTURE?!?!?!” I am no longer what you would call human. I wear alienation as my skin. As the moments recede backwards into the night my fate stands before me. I am lost.
Guided Meditation For Conservatives
Posted in The Politics Of Catastrophe on May 2, 2011
We, at The Tyranny of Tradition, are proud to present today’s guest writer, Jonathan Winthrop. Winthrop is a conservative columnist, syndicated talk radio host, all-around great American and a personal friend of mine. He is the founder of the The Conserva-zen Institute for Self-Enlightenment and Lower Taxes. He has published a series of New York Times best-sellers including “Visualize Liberty”, “Visualize a City On The Hill Without Liberals” and “Visualize, Then Fire”.
Visualize Reagan: Guided Meditation For Conservatives
By Jonathan Winthrop
Guided meditation is an important component on the path to spiritual enlightenment. Today, I present to you a short exercise to help you free your mind of some of its stress and strain. I recommend you sit down in a cool and comfortable place, dim the lights and play some soothing music. Close your eyes and let a feeling of safety wash over you. Have someone with a calming voice (preferably not someone with a foreign accent) read you the following words.
Envision Reagan. He stands straight and proud. Look closely at his face. It is a calm face. It projects strength. Liberty. Freedom. Look closely at his mouth. The confident smile. Like the Duke. Poised. Look into his eyes. Steel Blue. Knowing. Like a wise Grandfather.
Reagan is at the podium. He stands in front of a room full of proud Americans. Good Americans. People like you and me. They are singing. He raises his hands and they fall silent. He speaks of freedom. He speaks of joy. He promises to lower the marginal tax rates for earners making over 250,000 dollars a year to below ten percent. You gaze at him. He begins to glow.
You and Reagan are transported to a beautiful serene valley. Reagan stands in a meadow surrounded by happy animals. Playing. Sheep and lambs run around him in a circle. Reagan smiles. Angels dance around him. They lift him upward. Slowly. He levitates towards the clouds. Gentle white wings appear in his back. Reagan begins to soar faster until he disappears in a white blur.
You are in a nursery surrounded by beautiful newborn babies. All the babies gently coo. You see a beautiful boy. You pick him up and look closely at his face. The baby’s face morphs into the face of Reagan. He smiles. You feel warm. His eyes lock with yours and you feel a perfect inner peace. Those same knowing eyes look back at you. The eyes of Reagan.
Bad people appear. Communists, 60’s radicals, liberals, mass murderers. The baby Reagan becomes the strong, grandfatherly Reagan. His eyes grow red. A beam shoots out of them and kills all of the bad people. He stomps on each of their bad faces. He looks at you and smiles. The babies are safe. All of the babies are in Reagan’s arms. He comforts them. Like a Grandfather.
Reagan does not take. He gives to those who deserve and shows a firm hand to those who don’t. He is peace through strength. He sees the part of us that is rejected, that is lonely, that has been weakened by government programs like affirmative action and Planned Parenthood. He reaches out his glowing finger and he heals us. He heals us. He heals us.
Audio copies of this meditation read by Charlton Heston or Ann Coulter are available through City on The Hill Publishing for $19.99 plus shipping and handling.
Trump Accuses Obama of Being First Overkill Drummer
Posted in General Weirdness on April 30, 2011
Mr. Skates Goes To Washington?
In a continuing assault on the life and career of President Barack Obama, 2016 Presidential candidate Donald Trump accused Obama of being the drummer for the metal band Overkill on the albums “Feel The Fire” and “Taking Over“.
In an interview with syndicated conservative talk radio host Jonathan Winthrop, Trump said “If you look in the liner notes at the first two albums they have someone named Rat Skates listed as the drummer. That can’t possibly be a real name. I believe that Barack Obama was playing drums on both of those records.”
This is another in a series of accusations made by Republicans that Obama is, in fact, a “secret metalhead”. The accusations started two months ago when Glenn Beck revealed that Obama was in a thrash band in Chicago while he was working as a community organizer in the mid-1980s. Beck claimed that Obama’s band “mostly did Coroner and Slayer covers, but a few originals.”
Other reports have claimed that the band, known as Barry O’Death and the October Revolution (BODOR), recorded a demo but nearly all of the copies have been destroyed. Various media outlets have contacted three supposed members of the group but no one has agreed to go on record about having played in the band.
Trump claimed last month that one of his investigators had gotten their hands on a copy and he had heard the demo. According to Trump the sound was “very raw but pretty unoriginal. They seemed to be trying to copy Exodus ‘Bonded By Blood’ on most of the tracks.”
According to Trump, the demo had ten songs on it with titles ranging from “Destroyer of Worlds” to “When Death Rides A Horse” to “Free Healthcare for Everyone”. Obama has never directly addressed the metal rumors but in his biography Dreams from My Father he does discuss being “really impressed with the first Manowar album, particularly the epic feel of the song Battle Hymn”.
Rat Skates on Tour With Overkill in 1981
Trump supported his latest accusation by claiming that the drumming on “Feel The Fire” was extremely similar to the playing on the BODOR demo. “I have heard a lot of drummers over the years and this person who is supposedly known as Rat Skates plays just like Obama. There is no way you could hear the song Blood and Iron and think it was anyone but the future President playing. The styles are too much alike.”
Trump has encouraged Obama to come out and be forthright with the American people about his metal past. “It’s not right that the President is keeping the American people in the dark about an issue as important as his taste in music. If the President listens to thrash, death or even proto-doom, it’s important that the people know so they can make informed decisions.”
Venom Singer Saddened By Royal Snub
Posted in General Weirdness on April 28, 2011
Uncle Cronos
There is one Brit who is still waiting for his invitation to tomorrow’s wedding between Prince William and Kate Middleton. Cronos (Conrad Lant), the bass player and singer from the band Venom, has checked his mailbox everyday patiently waiting for a message that may never come. Why would the lead singer of a band that recorded songs like “Sons of Satan” expect an invite to one of the most sacred and important events in Britain this century? Cronos is, in fact, Kate Middleton’s uncle.
As hard as this may be to believe for many metalheads, Cronos is the brother of Kate’s mom Mary Lant. In an exclusive interview with The Tyranny of Tradition, Cronos revealed that he had a close relationship with Kate from the time she was a baby. “We were on tour supporting the Welcome to Hell album when I got the call. Little Katy was about to be born. The band and I cancelled the show and rushed to the hospital. I’ll never forget when I held her for the first time. Abaddon and I broke down in tears. It was beautiful,” recalled Cronos.
Cronos was always a big part of the future princesses life. She grew up going to Venom concerts and was even in the studio when the band recorded their third album “At War With Satan”. “Mantas had this great idea to have her voice mixed into the background of the song “Aaaaaarrghh” but it we were never able to get it to sound right.”
As Kate got older she got more involved with the band. “She started playing drums at age 7 and even sat in with us a few times during concerts. She played Buried Alive with us at a show in Coventry back during the reunion in 1995 and was amazing. She reminded me a lot of Dave Lombardo.”
When the royal couple first started dating Kate promised Cronos that they might play at the wedding if the two ever decided to tie the knot. “She had this whole idea about us playing Countess Bathory during the part of the service where she walked up to the altar. I thought it was crazy, but she kept bringing the idea up. I’d have been honored to play her wedding.”
Cronos was in touch with Kate as recently as seven months ago, but since the wedding announcement she has not returned any of his phone calls. “She used to call me her favorite uncle. She loved singing songs with me when she was a little girl. We used to sing the song “Black Metal” together. She loved doing the growling part at the end. Now she won’t even talk to me.”
There have been few mentions of Cronos’ relationship with Kate in the British press. He believes the royal family has conspired to keep the Kate Middleton/Venom connection out of the media. “There used to be video of her playing with us up on YouTube, but that was mysteriously taken down months ago. I feel like they are embarrassed by my career as one of the founding fathers of Satan influenced thrash metal. I’m not trying to get famous out of this or make money. I just want my Little Katy back.”
The Banality of Evil
Posted in The Poetry of Death on April 27, 2011
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The Tyranny of Tradition 
