For a while now and to passionate cries of "nay-nay!" yer old drinking buddy Da WWWiz has exposed an infamous meme what seems to insist that a) the real world is long ago destroyed in a quasi-nuclear apocalypse and b) the appearance of synchronous phenomena are a by product of the dreaming mind of a culture already way beyond death. This perspective poses a stark contrast to the synchro-mystic set, and to its highly advertised new-ness of mind, body and spirit. The Fortean School and the Twilight School of Downard and Hoffman would appear to predate synchro-mysticism by as much as a century of dazzling evidence.
The Old School is a simple maxim: There is no New School. Everything Old is Older still. It's all been bombed B-4. Let's get bombed!
|Doc/Strangle/Glove...Salt Peter Sellers|
Our first number is the gut-groovy Swamp from the Talking Heads. The lyrics are almost too clear without the Ray-Bans on yer peeps. But here is a fucking corker. I mean fah real!
...a medical chart on the wall
soft violins (sounds like: violence)
and hands touch your throat
everybody wants to explode...
I'm mean c'mon people - have you seen Dr. Strangelove?!?
Next Up is a pair of waves from Phoenix, a band that seems to come right out of nowhere.
Lisztomania gives the throat key (lyric: ...jugulate, jugulate, etc. To jugulate is to kill by cutting the throat). Lasso implies likewise in both title and lyric. But just look at the cover art for the album! Three bombs? One may speculate there are two gone by and one still cummin'. The Big One.
The best money is in sunscreen futures. Bain de Soleil, good brothers and sisters!
To put it plainly, it's a sentimental recall.