Marcus Brigstocke Takes On The Abrahamic Faiths

I think this sums up my position quite nicely.

Enjoy!

Combichrist, Consumption, and Labor Day

Friday last, I staggered off to go see Combichrist with my friend Jesse. We decided to give the opening bands a miss as none were bands that I'd ever heard of before. While Dr. Echidna said that SITD could be clichéd but wasn't too ghastly, I wasn't exactly sold on the deal.

So, we got there at a quarter to ten. SITD had cancelled owing for some reason that I never heard, we missed Modulate, and arrived in time for Imperative Reaction. At the time, I noticed that Combichrist would take the stage at 10:45.

After entering El Corazon, I beelined for the lounge area as my tongue was hanging out for a drink. I should've known better than to order a whiskey and soda since what I was given bore about as much resemblance to one as a four-year-old's sidewalk chalk drawing does a Rembrandt. Anyway, while we stood in the line for our weak and overpriced beverages, I was bored to tears by the repetitive and uninspired music of IR.

As the Weltschmerz mounted with every passing second, I hurriedly drained my drink and legged it for the open spaces so I could have a puff, escape from the press of people, and kill the time until Combichrist came on stage. Eventually, I wandered back inside and ran into my friend Brett and his girlfriend Jennifer. We surveyed the all-ages crowd with something of a jaundiced eye and retreated to the lounge again.

I finally took up a position near the center area and was predisposed to enjoy the Combichrist show - how can you not love hot, rivet-head Norwegian boys? Unfortunately, the crowd intervened and ruined the show for me in short order.

This show, sadly, ranks as one of the worst I've ever seen and I thank all of the underaged fucktards for this.

Yes, you want to dance to Combichrist. I sympathize. However, in a venue the size of El Corazon, slam dancing is not quite appropriate. Shoving your way through the crowd repeatedly to visit friends is unacceptable.

Confidential to the dumpy short chick who thought it'd be awesome to thrash about like a gaffed salmon or someone with St. Vitus' Dance: Thank you for elbowing me in the thorax repeatedly and for stomping on my feet. You weigh about as much as a Belgian draft horse. And no, I was not kidding when I told you that, if you didn't stop stomping on me, I'd donkey punch you. I hope your dog dies.

Being forced to absorb twenty-year-old boy sweat is unacceptable, too. I think the final straw came when I got hit in the eye with about a cup of lukewarm water. I don't know whether it was thrown from the stage, from an audience member, or what. Nor do I really WANT to know.

Anyway, I legged it out of the venue when Andy said they were playing their last song - I couldn't handle any more and I wound up furiously chainsmoking and waiting patiently for Jesse, Brett, and Jennifer to exit the building so we could head up to the Mercury and get away from the under twenty-one crowd.

Other than that, Friday night was enjoyable. Saturday, I woke up feeling a bit lungy and it has gone down hill from there to the point that I feel like I'm in the throes of a raging consumption or at the very least the Lesser Asiatic Death Cold. Fortunately for me, I'll be heading to Coeur d'Alene for Labour Day weekend to spend time with my family and friends.

These Boots Were Made for Stomping and Why I Hate Push-Cyclists

The above is a picture of the wonderful Doctor Marten Triumph 1914 fourteen eye Black Boot of Doom that I have decided that I Simply Must Have.

They are, as Dr. Echidna said, 'sexeh.' Best of all, they're only $150.00. I can't wait to get 'em. Next month, I'll be sporting the above boots and so will be prepared to kick people in the face or neck as the situation warrants.

Oh, and I hate push cyclists with a passion.

After work, I occasionally ankle my way across a bridge to go catch the No. 15 or 18 Downtown rather than take the ghastly 31 over to the University District where I transfer to another bus after an interminable wait and then transfer to yet another one at Jefferson and 23rd. It's an irksome commute that way.

Anyway, there is a narrow little flywalk for pedestrians across the bridge. Every evening, without fail, as I'm beetling along I hear a faint 'on your right' or 'on your left' or 'garble garble guh' from behind as some fucktard push-cyclist is riding along ON THE PEDESTRIAN PATH IN DIRECT CONTRAVENTION OF THE LAW.

Now, I don't claim to be overly concerned with whether or not people obey the laws. What they choose to do is their own concern and as long as it doesn't interfere with my day-to-day existence I couldn't give a faint half damn what they do.

Yet when some health nut decides to ride his push-cycle along the narrow pedestrian walkway rather than slither through traffic, I become irritable. It's not just there, either. You see them swerving in and out of pedestrians on sidewalks all over the bloody place. I've taken a Schwinn amidships because I hadn't an earthly that the fucktard was behind me.

And it isn't just them riding on the sidewalks that irks me. They irk me when they zoom along in their obnoxious swarms behaving like menaces to pedestrians and traffic. May their differential gears all rust and send them flying head over handlebars into a drainage ditch!

A pox upon their houses!

Monday Musings

Today is my roommate Peter's birthday. Thus, I'll take this opportunity to wish him a very happy anniversary of his nativity. I trust he'll have a pleasant year.

Yesterday, Peter and I put together the bookcase and I've restored most of my books to their home. Sadly, I need more shelving to contain them all. I hate leaving books in boxes. It seems quite criminal. We also wrangled my awful, rickety old computer desk into position and got Maude all set up which meant that we're now able to eat like normal human beings instead of grubbing over our food at our respective computers. Civilisation is so wonderful.

Tonight, my favourite former Marine, Brad, will be coming over to help me hang the curtains in the house. This will make the place look more homelike and less we've-just-moved-in-excuse-our-dust,-please. I also need to hang a few pictures and place various other objets d'arts.

I also really need to get my vacuum cleaner out of storage. Unfortunately, it's in Post Falls, ID - 300 miles east of Seattle so collaring it will be something of a treat. I'll have to check with various and diverse people to find out when they'll next be going over there or headed here. New carpets tend to shed a bit and I'd love to give the place a good hoovering.

I had the dickens of a time getting out of bed this morning. I was up late playing EQ2 (later than I should've been to be honest) and when I finally did go to bed the Hottentots in the apartments next door were carrying on regardless. Someone apparently was incapable of parking their Ford Behemoth 2007 without a ground crew to direct them - the direction consisting of bawling, 'Bring the wheel over! No! The other way!' at the top of their lungs in an open garage at 2 in the ack emma accompanied by the squealing of fan belts and tires on pavement. This went on for what seemed like a veritable geologic epoch.

I hope that their Behemoth 2007 flips and bursts into flames like the Canyonero. Preferably ONTO the ground crew.

Jackasses.

What do you want to bet that these are the same people who listen to their infernal house music at incredibly high volume at all hours?

I hope they catch elephantiasis, sprue, a raging quinsy, AND dropsy!

I think I'll start keeping a supply of bricks on hand so I can bung them in their general direction as needed.