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When commissioned to do an album cover, they do this: http://i.imgur.com/vWq95x8.jpg

Looks like someone crop dusted Jurassic Park with pot smoke and now all the dinos are all sitting around baked listening to Yes.

I keep trying to picture an "appropriate" appropriate gift but all I can picture is Geddy naked under my tree with a red bow tied around his mid-section. :| I've been good all year and am anxiously awaiting a naked Alex under my tree with mistletoe instead of a red bow around his mid-section. I shan't be good for long. :fury:

http://blogs.telegraph.co.uk/news/files/2013/04/Barack-Obama-EU-January-2012.jpg

I did a quick edit in Photoshop to give the image more drama. Now the T. Rex is thinking "Oh, ****!" as the Asteroid Rush slams into the earth, killing off the dinosaurs. :D (tongue firmly in cheek) http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k169/yarncore/symphonicrushre-do.jpg

There's always one.

Sarah Palin? At least she spewing harmless drivel that can be easily ignored. I have not heard her speak in months. Now our lying president is another story. Everything arrogant thing Obama says regarding his healthcare is a lie. Just admit its a joke? You all know its the truth right? and Dennis Rodman should be deported for being a traitor to his country. Period. You love heinous dictators and want to sleep with one? (we all know they are having sex together) then marry him and help him rule and kill people.

But what difference would it make ?

http://gdb.voanews.com/E19C71C4-3711-47BD-A3DE-C1C2E2328526_mw1024_n_s.jpg

You are becoming predictable................. How about this then? http://www.countryweekly.com/sites/countryweekly.com/files/u14/the-view-cast-2013.jpeg

Clockwork Angels for sure. In my opinion, it's a lot lyrically stronger. Also, I love how heavy it is instrumentally. It's honestly one of their most impressive albums.

Who would you like to see make a New Years resolution to just shut the F up in 2014 and why, if you wish ? I can think of many but will start with one........ http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/ec/Sarah_Palin_by_Gage_Skidmore_2.jpg/464px-Sarah_Palin_by_Gage_Skidmore_2.jpg You are not helping.......... Note: Mara, I am hoping you are ok with me almost high jacking your title word for word . It is intended to be a complimentary high jacking believe me......... :)

I think you are right. The last time I saw a picture of him was in the eighties. Since then apparently, Bryan and I have both aged a bit. Pity.

I keep trying to picture an "appropriate" appropriate gift but all I can picture is Geddy naked under my tree with a red bow tied around his mid-section. :|

You'd think he would at least send each of us a holiday card with an appropriate gift ( ;) ) for keeping his ego stroked all the year long. That's gratitude for you!

BELIEBER: Rush? Meh. Let me tell you about MY favorite Canadian artist... ME: :bang bang:

Stunning! :ebert: :ebert: :ebert:

Perfect, Gangster!

Someone please post a pic of the POTUS for me. Thank you.

That's a message for my cat from her good friend, Pope Benedict. I'll pass it along when she awakens from her eight hour nap.

I think he might have been planning that all along... http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2013/02/26/article-0-184BE460000005DC-710_634x676.jpg

Ummn, I was posting on another message board about an unrelated topic, and after a while I just found it exhausting. There was a lot of politics and one-upmanship and meanness, and I remember thinking "I am so tired of this, I just want to talk about Rush." So I searched on the internet, and therushforum.com seemed like as good a bet for a forum to discuss Rush. :)

Makes me wish I had skills....... :)

One thing I do know - LABT will have a huge erection whilst reading this page. How is that any different than usual?

Ha, what's this "if" stuff? These girls are gonna be hard-pressed to find dudes as fit and handsome as we are. But of course! All this typing you guys do here on TRF means your fingers must be all toned and in shape.

:o :boo hiss:

Then, I'm your man! I've got loads of money and I'm no good at math, so, do the math. You had me at, "loads of money."

Pervy old man.

As pandemonium erupted in Toronto at the sight of a caged dwarf named Rushgoober, I found myself at the Huguenot, engrossed in my new pastime, pasta art. Just as I was dabbing glue on yet another piece of rigatoni, there was a knock at the door. It was Etienne, the motel manager, with a letter for me. It didn't look like anything of importance, but it did have a Vatican postmark and no return address. I was intrigued, and a little suspicious. I opened the letter expecting another mystifying message from Jorge, but instead was greeted by the following: lughoS 'oH attention 'e' Such SoH pong dwarf holierthanthouy 'oH pong. vay' QumpIn Hev SoH ghaHvo', qImHa' law' ghaH qawlu' qaStaHvIS chavmoH pontiff. Do'Ha' QongDaqDaj bIngDaq Goober-pantheism spell, 'ej consequently excommunicated vo' vIpe'qang ghaH. tlhIj jIH vay' Sot chaq luH ghaH. Yours truly, Joe Ratzinger Well, fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, won't get fooled again. It was a letter from the Pope Emeritus himself. I had no reason to doubt its authenticity, because everyone knows he writes letters in Klingon and sends them in unmarked envelopes to avoid unwanted attention. He said that Holierthanthouy had been excommunicated because he'd fallen under the spell of Goober-pantheism, and that I should simply disregard the message that he delivered. At last report, he was on his way to Dharamsala to study under the Dalai Lama. With the specter of a papal fatwa suddenly removed from my consciousness, I decided to head over to Anton's for lunch. I put on my Moving Pictures t-shirt and hopped in the rental car next to Goober's stuffed llama, which now rides shotgun every time I leave the Huguenot. I was eating my burger when I heard a vaguely familiar voice from across the aisle. "Moving Pictures; that was the last great album they released. It was all downhill from there." I looked up to see Rush's mentor and erstwhile producer, Terry Brown, sitting directly across from me. I saw this as the perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation, so I presumptuously moved over to the same booth with Terry. What follows is an approximate transcript of the more notable portions of our chat. ME: I understand you were frustrated with the band while working on Signals. TB: Frustrated is too mild a word. They were really into New Wave back then, and by the time of Signals it had permeated their music like an unwanted infection. More and more synths, and those damned electronic drums. . . I can't tell you how many arguments we had. I really thought Alex would take my side, but he was no help. Every time the discussion would get too heated, he would go out into the parking lot and play with his remote-controlled cars. Sometimes I thought that boy needed a court-appointed guardian. ME: What song proved the most difficult? TB: Digital Man was the last straw. I told them I didn't sign on to record remakes of f**king Police songs. Have you listened to the bridge in Digital Man? It sounds like Walking on the Moon. ME: So they told you they were moving on? TB: Neil told me when we were in Florida toward the end of the Signals tour. I warned him that they would lose their core audience, but I guess they picked up enough of the 80's New Wave techno-geek crowd to carry on. (He began to ramble) Peter Collins, pffft, and don't get me started on that wet noodle Rupert Hine. Oh Christ, those embarrassing videos they made in the 80's. . . ME (Thinking I should change the subject): Have you been following the Rushgoober case? TB: Not that closely, but I heard about you getting in trouble for skulking around Alex's old house in Rosedale. I remember when he bought that place back in the late 70's. You should have seen the interior; garish as hell. Liberace would have looked at home in any of those rooms. I thanked him for his time and quickly excused myself, but not before he autographed my Moving Pictures t-shirt. Who knew he would still be so bitter after all these years? It was getting late, and since Tombstone promised to bring back more Herzog movies after a long day of covering the Rushgoober case, I began the drive back to the Huguenot and its bucolic surroundings. The Great Owl cast a menacing shadow over the city in the late afternoon. I couldn't help but think how humiliated poor Goober must have felt in that cage, bare ass and all, on display before a crowd of frenzied hosers. The thought of attending an event like the Inner-City Olympics was absolutely stomach-turning. Maybe Lorraine would consider rejoining me for the final stretch of the Justice for Goober campaign. Who knows, he may survive the ordeal, then Lorraine could give him the Vapor Trolls Pez dispenser in person. I'm sure the mere sight of such a prized trinket would cause him to forget the Neverland Cult and all the events surrounding it. I hope we don't have to wait too long for the games to begin. Tombstone said that Mayor Ford has ordered ABBA to be played in Goober's cell 23 hours a day; the other hour is occupied by William Shatner doing a dramatic reading of Neil's blog. . . there's only so much a dwarf can take.

What made my day today is what has been making my day for the past three months: my wife is pregnant! It´s our fist baby and it´s a girl, we´ll name her Stella Michel Altaf.

On behalf of every freeloader on this Forum—Thank you for all you do! Your job is thankless and probably irksome at times. TRF members offer our collective appreciation for your selfless devotion to our favorite website. We're not worthy 73! It's people like you, and all the mods, who have made our lives a little brighter by the connections we get share here in cyberspace.

Pervy old man. I just explained what happened. You highlighted the words of your choosing.... :) Yeah, and then she goes home and tells everyone she ran 5 miles, when for 4.2 of those "miles" she was standing on the side rails of the machine as the belt spun. My training bike at home broke this week, relegating me to the gym. The timing could not be worse, since in 10 days the place will be flooded with New Year's resolution pansies hanging all over the equipment I want to use. We're trying to get it repaired/replaced before then.

I must say my babies make me feel better........... http://media1.sulia.com/static/user_images/3/2013-12-22/610ca2cb-4800-4aed-a6b6-8e12b5c709ea.jpg

Congrats, here's to the next 30,000. However long that takes.

Holierthanthouy (for some reason I always feel compelled to type hobbledehoy :laughing yellow guy: ) is closer to Varanasi than you might think. Hey that's what my dad used to call me!

CONGRATULATIONS AND THANK YOU 1001001!!!! :cheerleader: :hi: :7up: :ebert: :banana: :clap:

Is this the secret alarm for the YBG Men? What are the YBG Men doing? Silence is not golden.

The Ox should have been number 1, with all due respect to Geddy.

Holierthanthouy (for some reason I always feel compelled to type hobbledehoy :laughing yellow guy: ) is closer to Varanasi than you might think.

yeah I have a feeling they haven't heard bleach

I think that was the funniest one yet. :ebert:

The Yukon Blade Grinder Rushgoober: Canada’s Public Enemy #1 Gone are the days of lazing in the California sun, reporting on nose nibbling tarts and cults at Neverland Ranch. After witnessing the killing spree unleashed on escaped emus and countless press conferences with Sheriff Ron Howard, we make our way to the mother city of Canada—Toronto. The Yukon Blade Grinder has been on the scene since day one. The legendary story continues to bloat like a corpse floating in Lake Ontario, with sturgeons feeding on the body. Today we land in God’s country. Flying into this modern metropolis the sight is indeed magnificent. It’s North America’s fourth largest city. The buildings stand like giant Royal Mounties guarding Toronto. However, dominating the skyline—Anthem Entertainment International. The Yukon Blade Grinder is astonished, as the sight is beyond belief. In our world there are monuments that take our breath away: The Pyramids of Giza. Stonehenge. Giant’s Causeway of Northern Ireland. The hulking breasts of Dollywood in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. In this saga we are introduced to the newest wonder of the world. Approaching by helicopter it can be seen from miles away—La Chouette du Canada, or “The Great Owl”. It’s a 300ft statue of Canada’s national bird, perched atop of what is now known as Ray’s Place. With outstretched wings and fierce omniscient glare, the owl is Canada’s version of “Jesus over Rio”. As we get closer to A.E.I., we notice the owl has what appears to be a mouse hanging by its tail from the prodigious beak. This Yukon Blade Grinder reporter would be wrong. Turns out it’s actually a cage hanging by a chain. Residing inside is a dwarf, swaying in the wind. “I think people who speak in metaphors oughta shampoo my crotch” --Jack Nicholson How the man arrived at this point is now a matter of public record: Award winning actor for his role as Gimli in The Lord of the Rings trilogy. A jilted former collaborator of Michael Jackson, whose malice toward Emmanuel Lewis rivals that of the ancient god’s anger toward Vesuvius. He was the cream of the crop of Piccadilly’s vaunted street performers. Goober was also an esteemed member of the British Repertoires Acclaimed Wee Legion, hired by A.E.I. to perform in the much-anticipated Clockwork Angels extravaganza. Everything seemed to be going well before the tour kicked off. He had it all. Fame. Fortune. The company of hot, adoring women. And peas aplenty. From being shot out of a cannon during “Headlong Flight”, to portraying the obedient and eager Cabin Boy for the “The Wreckers”, his talent what a commodity few possess. Goober not only had access to the stars—he was a star. Things turned for the worse one night at the Orbit Room, at the ill fated “Battle of the Bands.” This catastrophic incident led to a Jerry Springer like moment involving medications, strippers, pissed off dwarfs, and members of Rush. After the tumultuous, and untimely dismissal of the entire performing cast, all parties were understandably disappointed. Disillusioned and angry (never a good combination for a dwarf) Rushgoober led the talented Seven Cities of Gold dancers on a spirit quest to his former residence—Neverland Ranch. His mission? Placing a curse on Canada’s most famous export via the occult consisting of naked women and exotic animals. The scene at Neverland was so odd, if Anton Lavey was alive, he’d be green with envy. All too happy to wash their hands of this depravity, the Santa Barbara Sheriff’s office dismissed all charges to deport said villain to Canada, where he faces perhaps the worst of circumstances—trial for “Impersonating a Rush Fan”. “All roads lead to Rome. When traveling, have two swords with you at all times!” --Marcus Arelius On Philospy and all things Roman However, the wrath of Canada isn’t the only issue on Rushgoober’s plate—he’s got the wrath of God to account for as well. Because of the cult’s actions, the spiritual world has a hand in stirring this bubbling cauldron of trouble. Time to call in the big guns. The “Peppy” pontiff, Pope Francis, came forward to show his allegiance to Vapor Trail fans across the globe with his epic Sermon on Mt. Nerd, while rocking his Neil Peart prayer cap. Indeed, a liturgical seismic shift with huge implications from a church that moves at glacial speed. To top that change of worship protocol, another sin was added to the list of “deadly sins”. Now there are eight. With that action taken, the Vatican declared that Goobs must repent of his vapor trolling ways, or face the burning flames of hell. That’s all minor compared to what he now faces. Today, the rotund mayor of Toronto, Rob Ford, is at the center Rushgoober’s universe. Pass the crack pipe, call your favorite hooker, and chill with some Poutine, for today we gain clarity. “How’s it going eh? I’m Bob McKenzie, this is my brother Doug” --Bob McKenzie What a curious monstrosity! Circling La Chouette du Canada, this Yukon Blade Grinder reporter is in awe. “Biiiiiig f***ing bird eh? Welcome to the new Canada!” quipped our chopper pilot. The YBG got a chance to look into the owl’s huge eyes, as he paused to hover a moment. Clear windows allow a good view inside, but we couldn’t resist looking down to the swaying cage below where Goober flashes the middle digit, whilst showing us his hairy dwarfen arse. However, such behavior cannot detract from the magnitude and importance of the band’s new state of the art recording studio, now declared a national treasure, located in the head of the owl. Pointing to the enormous left eye our pilot brings the YBG up to speed on the status of their latest recording. “That’s his new drum instructor rubbing his shoulders like he’s some sort of boxer. Neil’s been in there all week working on the new William Shatner album. We’ve never seen him throw so many sticks. He downs a shot of the Macallan when he screws up a take. The papers say he’s got drummer’s block. Kinda like writer’s block. It’s a growing concern in the city. Must be a tough assignment, but when it’s finished it’ll be bigger than anything Bryan Adams ever recorded.” While flying into the Toronto it was hard not to notice the multiple Jumbotrons throughout the city, giving a voyeuristic peek into the world of Rush at work. On screen is the man possessing the “Hands of God”—Neil Peart, banging away on his kit and staring into the distance as if meditating on the fracas below—or not. Obviously he’s rehearsing to rehearse. Our friendly pilot was more than happy to give a complete update. Apparently Ged and Alex play paper football out of sheer boredom as Neil stumbles through take after take. “The Toronto Gambling Commission has established odds for their epic games. Geddy always wins. Man we got it made!” Through the eyes of the owl we see genius at work. “Out on the streets, that’s where we meet” --Ratt Round and Round Down on the streets of Toronto is another story. Canucks dance around giant trash fires and torched cars as emotions rise with burning passion. Effigies of Rushgoober hang and cast grim shadows as Poutine vendors make a buck off of the hungry crowds. Apparently you can get it with or without bits of Michael Jackson’s nose (relax—they’re just cheese curds). This national dish is served in a collectable Vapor Trails bowl as mandated by the government’s Department of Arts & Musical Niceties. Sweet thought. Mementos mean something to every Canadian. We land atop Anthem Entertainment International between the legs of this Colossus of Canada. As we step out of the chopper, we’re greeted and ushered to the rooftop elevator by a panting William “the Shat” Shatner. We miss Bill, he’s a laugh. “Good to see you guys. Man it’s a zoo down there,” he said between gasps for breath. “I got…I got your emails...sorry I missed my deadline…I’ll have my article completed for the Blade Grinder soon…real busy getting Neil’s parts right now…he’s suddenly confused by 7/8. His drum teacher is doing everything he can to help (95 year old Leophus “Hambone” Jones). He can’t play in time. This is almost a national emergency.” We know Bill, we know! After catching his breath The “Shat” holds up his hands to warn us of possible danger, while giving scatterbrained details of the digs of Canada’s golden boys. “Be careful on the streets. Not for the recovering alcoholic. Mayor Ford’s been giving away free Moosehead all week. Lots of drunken fans. Did you see their studio? They’ve even got pinball machines up there! Oh, uh, our transportation is waiting for us.” He then points to the edge of the rooftop. “You can take the vacuum chute down—it’s fastest. Or you can take the elevator. You’re choice.” Canadian hospitality at its finest. Without a moment’s hesitation, the YBG crew steps onto the elevator as doors open to that familiar Star Trek Enterprise “whoosh”. The walls are lined with Gold and Platinum records. We noticed something strange. The music. The YBG had no idea a Muzak version of “Headlong Flight” existed. A bodiless voice greets us with a warm welcome to Anthem Tower. Making our way down to ground level, The Shat gives us a look and says, “You’re not gonna believe this!” We’re holding on with all our lives! To Stand within the pleasure dome, decreed by Kubla Khan --Neil Peart 1977 (probably extremely high at the time) Stepping off into the great lobby immediately captivates the Yukon Blade Grinder’s attention and stops us in our tracks. How could it not? It’s a vaulted cathedral like ceiling containing a kaleidoscope of images capturing key moments in the band’s history. It’s also a library. People are reading books under beautiful, silken banners of each album cover. Moving Pictures is a like an AARP meeting and it also has the biggest gathering. Presto is vacant. Clockwork Angels is crowded with skate rats. What also jumps out is an eerie replica of Michelangelo’s “Creation of Adam” themed fresco from the Sistine Chapel directly above, except it’s Neil, reaching for the hand of mere mortal Taylor Hawkins. Commemorating their appearance on The Muppet Show there’s a giant mural of Geddy, Alex, and Neil arm in arm with Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem from their stirring rendition of Xanadu. Fountains of honeydew flow from the cods of 12 statues, each one the renowned philosopher of their day. The honeydew spews on a replica of the RollingStone offices. This is no run of the mill building, this place is a place of history. “C’mon or your going to miss his entrance. The Hobbit caller, that’s what Mayor Ford calls him, is ready to announce his arrival. Those announcements are always entertaining.” whispers Shatner, urging the YBG crew outside the main doors. As we step outside it’s pure chaos. The people of Toronto are obviously under a spell, and it’s not a good one. Bacchus Plateau must’ve looked like this as throngs of milling people are eating and drinking waiting for the event of the day—the grand appearance of Mayor Rob Ford. Loudspeakers crackle with sounds of a clearing throat throughout the streets. Citizens turn their attention to the Jumbotrons as the cage lowers from La Chouette du Canada’s beak. Enter the People’s Champion: Mayor Ford A voice echoes through the canyons of concrete and steel, and it is that of the leader of the British Repertoires Acclaimed Wee Legion—Tony, the Pirate Captain: “Ahem. Is this thing on…thump thump? Oh, right then. Hear Ye! Hear Ye! People of the Great White North. Please turn your attention to the Jumbotrons. Our great Caesar, ummm errrr, Mayor descends!” Rushgoober’s cage gets lower and lower. Mayor Rob Ford, laughing like a madman, is standing on top wearing a Toronto Argonauts jersey and laurel around his head. Tony continues his oratory. “All hail our leader: Leader of low taxes, Benevolent giver of free booze, Prime mover of prostitution, Centurion of crack cocaine, Prince of Poutine, and advocate of the working man—Maaaaaayoooooor FOOOOOOORRRRDDDD. C’mon down!!!!” The deafening roar of the crowd sends shockwaves through the air. Mayor Ford is clearly at home in front of the public. As the cage comes closer to his constituents they worship the rotund mound of ground round. The Mayor does a back flip off the cage landing next to Tony, who hands him the microphone. “Thank you Toronto. Thank you. Thank you. No please, stop,” he repeated holding up his hands with malignant narcissism. “Today, we start another chapter in the history of our great city. In our midst we have a fallen man. Once a great man. Now fallen to the lowest depths of humanity with his Vapor Trolling. As member number 1 of the Toronto Backstage Club it is my duty to preside over any trial for impersonating a Rush fan.” Mayor Ford silences the crowd and continues, “I’m the only man alive to endure the gauntlet of proving my love for Rush…need I remind you?” The crowd responds with an overwhelming YES! “Let’s see it again guys!” The Jumbotrons fill with footage from the Toronto show from last year. Mayor Ford humping Neil’s bass drum during the entirety of YYZ, once considered an impossible feat to accomplish by anyone with testicles, and there is only one who’s done it. “How this trial will be conducted is not by judge and jury, but by raw athleticism, guts and courage. People all over the world have weighed in on this people, no pun intended. The Pope did his part, now we must do ours as faithful fans. Since this fiasco started the band hasn’t been right. Look, Pratt can’t even play in 7/8 time. Something must be done. By the power of Megadon, I establish this day as the beginning of the Inner-City Olympics: The British Repertoires Acclaimed Wee Legion vs. The Toronto Urban Resource Development League. Britain versus Canada. The winner determines the fate of this troll. You can give him his laptop so he can post at his leisure—time is ticking buddy! Better make it good.” Loyal Yukon Blade Grinder readers here we are staring at the Full Monty. The world seems to have changed overnight. Megadon. Why the power of Megadon? Perhaps the press conference this week will help us understand the nature of these games and origin of this proclamation…no doubt it will shed light where darkness dwells. Until next time, the Yukon Blade Grinder bids you adieu and farewell from the mother city of Canada!

Well done & thanks, you extraordinary creature you. MWAH!

I had noticed the 29,999 the other day too. I for one must say this forum has been a blessing in my life...... Congats are in order for sure........ :cheers:

:ebert: :ebert: Happy Christmas, everyone! :ebert: :ebert:

I agree with much of this. CA is good, but it doesn't feel very forward thinking. Vapor Trails, on the other hand is one of the band's most original sounding albums. I'm especially fond of the writing style: jam sessions that were chopped up and arranged into songs after the fact. Ceiling Unlimited is the sound of triumphant return. How It Is is equal parts defeat and hope. Freeze is unlike any song I've heard before, anywhere. It's noisy, manic, and incredibly gorgeous. There really aren't enough good things to say about Vapor Trails. My favorite Rush album since at least Power Windows. None of the others are even close.

Thank you Laughedatbytime!!! :hi:

Reminds me of an article I read on how Edward and Bella's relationship in Twilight series meet all 15 criteria set by the National Domestic Violence hotline for being in an abusive relationship: http://io9.com/54134...ve-relationship Somehow, to me that's not as funny :( Maybe I shouldn't have laughed at the Muppets thing either! I'll have to counteract these gloomy thoughts with more corny talking animals: I thought it hilarious because of how acclaimed the series has become, yet only real plot is a love story that is quite possibly one of the worst to ever gain mainstream attention. Anyway, fine, let's brighten the mood with Patrick Stewart as well. It won't top that video, but it's still funny.