TRF Prediction Thread and Roast: Rushgoober's 30,000th post

[Tombstone Mountain]

Gentlemen, where do we go from here?

 

It appears to me that nothing is happening in Canada. And I'm freezing my petite behind off. It's cold!!

 

I propose we hop on a plane and go to Times Square in the Big Apple for New Years Eve. We never know what we will find in the vast crowd that gathers to watch a silly ball drop down on top of a big building. We might even find RushGoober in the crowd hoisted upon some weirdos shoulders to enable him to watch the festivities. In any event, it won't make for a boring night. Excitement is in the very air your breathe in Manhattan. So are toxic chemicals. But, what the heck. We all have to die of something someday.

I'm down with that...the inner-city olympics is next week.

 

She just wants to go to New York because she hasn't been able to find a decent pickle since she left.

 

I thought we could sit around the fireplace for a quiet evening of mahjong with Etienne, the motel manager. Then we could get out the ouija board and try to summon John Rutsey. I'm sure he'd have a lot of interesting things to say.

Hey...maybe we shouldn't...something funky 'bout a ouija...I know!

Do you have any New Years resolutions? Please share some with me SWS, enquiring minds wanna know

 

I don't smoke and only drink on occasion, so I really don't have any vices to give up.

 

Here's one that should be easy to keep: I really need to try and get more sleep. I've been getting by on about 5 hours a night for two years. I feel fine and don't get tired during the day, but everyone tells me that it will catch up with me. Too many things to do and not enough hours in the day. :(

Dr. TM--"Have you tried any sleep aids?"

SWS--"No I haven't. I knit. I like arts and crafts...like macaroni art".

Dr TM--"Have you considered picking up drinking or smoking? Perhaps picking up some hookers, doing a little blow?"

SWS--"Those sound like things that can be bad for you."

Dr. TM--"Oh hell they are...but you sleep a lot better after doing them"

 

 

1. Stay away from Ambien. It interferes with REM sleep, plus you'll get hooked on it and end up in rehab (most likely not, but it does affect memory and cause weird dreams).

 

2. Hookers? I always get offered a gratuity for my services.

 

3. Never had any interest in cocaine. I've heard horror stories of people dropping dead from heart attacks the first time they tried it.

Just searching for solutions for ya bud. I, above all others here, care about about your nocturnal deficiencies. Sleep is so critical to good reporting

[Lorraine]

Gentlemen, where do we go from here?

 

It appears to me that nothing is happening in Canada. And I'm freezing my petite behind off. It's cold!!

 

I propose we hop on a plane and go to Times Square in the Big Apple for New Years Eve. We never know what we will find in the vast crowd that gathers to watch a silly ball drop down on top of a big building. We might even find RushGoober in the crowd hoisted upon some weirdos shoulders to enable him to watch the festivities. In any event, it won't make for a boring night. Excitement is in the very air your breathe in Manhattan. So are toxic chemicals. But, what the heck. We all have to die of something someday.

I'm down with that...the inner-city olympics is next week.

 

She just wants to go to New York because she hasn't been able to find a decent pickle since she left.

 

I thought we could sit around the fireplace for a quiet evening of mahjong with Etienne, the motel manager. Then we could get out the ouija board and try to summon John Rutsey. I'm sure he'd have a lot of interesting things to say.

Not only a good pickle, but a good bagel and pizza too.

 

I'll dust off my mahjong tiles, but leave me out of the summoning of the deceased. I have enough problems with the living.

[Tombstone Mountain]

Gentlemen, where do we go from here?

 

It appears to me that nothing is happening in Canada. And I'm freezing my petite behind off. It's cold!!

 

I propose we hop on a plane and go to Times Square in the Big Apple for New Years Eve. We never know what we will find in the vast crowd that gathers to watch a silly ball drop down on top of a big building. We might even find RushGoober in the crowd hoisted upon some weirdos shoulders to enable him to watch the festivities. In any event, it won't make for a boring night. Excitement is in the very air your breathe in Manhattan. So are toxic chemicals. But, what the heck. We all have to die of something someday.

I'm down with that...the inner-city olympics is next week.

 

She just wants to go to New York because she hasn't been able to find a decent pickle since she left.

 

I thought we could sit around the fireplace for a quiet evening of mahjong with Etienne, the motel manager. Then we could get out the ouija board and try to summon John Rutsey. I'm sure he'd have a lot of interesting things to say.

Not only a good pickle, but a good bagel and pizza too.

 

I'll dust off my mahjong tiles, but leave me out of the summoning of the deceased. I have enough problems with the living.

Well did you survive? Hard to find a bathroom?

[HomesickAlien]

Gentlemen, where do we go from here?

 

It appears to me that nothing is happening in Canada. And I'm freezing my petite behind off. It's cold!!

 

I propose we hop on a plane and go to Times Square in the Big Apple for New Years Eve. We never know what we will find in the vast crowd that gathers to watch a silly ball drop down on top of a big building. We might even find RushGoober in the crowd hoisted upon some weirdos shoulders to enable him to watch the festivities. In any event, it won't make for a boring night. Excitement is in the very air your breathe in Manhattan. So are toxic chemicals. But, what the heck. We all have to die of something someday.

I'm down with that...the inner-city olympics is next week.

 

She just wants to go to New York because she hasn't been able to find a decent pickle since she left.

 

I thought we could sit around the fireplace for a quiet evening of mahjong with Etienne, the motel manager. Then we could get out the ouija board and try to summon John Rutsey. I'm sure he'd have a lot of interesting things to say.

Not only a good pickle, but a good bagel and pizza too.

 

I'll dust off my mahjong tiles, but leave me out of the summoning of the deceased. I have enough problems with the living.

Well did you survive? Hard to find a bathroom?

 

I hope you guys aren't waiting for some kind of New Year's Eve report from the Huguenot. You two balked at the ouija board idea, so I'll have to think of another way to contact John Rutsey.

[HomesickAlien]

I got a PM recently from a reader who told me (us) to never stop doing this, to keep up the creative writing momentum. It was great to hear that feedback.

 

Tell some of these fans that the least they could do is sign in and like some of our posts. This thread is becoming a lonely place now that Greyfriar and Losingit2K have deserted us.

[Tombstone Mountain]

Gentlemen, where do we go from here?

 

It appears to me that nothing is happening in Canada. And I'm freezing my petite behind off. It's cold!!

 

I propose we hop on a plane and go to Times Square in the Big Apple for New Years Eve. We never know what we will find in the vast crowd that gathers to watch a silly ball drop down on top of a big building. We might even find RushGoober in the crowd hoisted upon some weirdos shoulders to enable him to watch the festivities. In any event, it won't make for a boring night. Excitement is in the very air your breathe in Manhattan. So are toxic chemicals. But, what the heck. We all have to die of something someday.

I'm down with that...the inner-city olympics is next week.

 

She just wants to go to New York because she hasn't been able to find a decent pickle since she left.

 

I thought we could sit around the fireplace for a quiet evening of mahjong with Etienne, the motel manager. Then we could get out the ouija board and try to summon John Rutsey. I'm sure he'd have a lot of interesting things to say.

Not only a good pickle, but a good bagel and pizza too.

 

I'll dust off my mahjong tiles, but leave me out of the summoning of the deceased. I have enough problems with the living.

Well did you survive? Hard to find a bathroom?

 

I hope you guys aren't waiting for some kind of New Year's Eve report from the Huguenot. You two balked at the ouija board idea, so I'll have to think of another way to contact John Rutsey.

Twas a holiday bro—no worries!

[HomesickAlien]

Gentlemen, where do we go from here?

 

It appears to me that nothing is happening in Canada. And I'm freezing my petite behind off. It's cold!!

 

I propose we hop on a plane and go to Times Square in the Big Apple for New Years Eve. We never know what we will find in the vast crowd that gathers to watch a silly ball drop down on top of a big building. We might even find RushGoober in the crowd hoisted upon some weirdos shoulders to enable him to watch the festivities. In any event, it won't make for a boring night. Excitement is in the very air your breathe in Manhattan. So are toxic chemicals. But, what the heck. We all have to die of something someday.

I'm down with that...the inner-city olympics is next week.

 

She just wants to go to New York because she hasn't been able to find a decent pickle since she left.

 

I thought we could sit around the fireplace for a quiet evening of mahjong with Etienne, the motel manager. Then we could get out the ouija board and try to summon John Rutsey. I'm sure he'd have a lot of interesting things to say.

Not only a good pickle, but a good bagel and pizza too.

 

I'll dust off my mahjong tiles, but leave me out of the summoning of the deceased. I have enough problems with the living.

Well did you survive? Hard to find a bathroom?

 

I hope you guys aren't waiting for some kind of New Year's Eve report from the Huguenot. You two balked at the ouija board idea, so I'll have to think of another way to contact John Rutsey.

Twas a holiday bro—no worries!

 

True, but I had plenty of time to come up with something beforehand. I'll post a report soon, otherwise H.P.L. will return to find nothing but chit-chat in this thread.

[Tombstone Mountain]

Gentlemen, where do we go from here?

 

It appears to me that nothing is happening in Canada. And I'm freezing my petite behind off. It's cold!!

 

I propose we hop on a plane and go to Times Square in the Big Apple for New Years Eve. We never know what we will find in the vast crowd that gathers to watch a silly ball drop down on top of a big building. We might even find RushGoober in the crowd hoisted upon some weirdos shoulders to enable him to watch the festivities. In any event, it won't make for a boring night. Excitement is in the very air your breathe in Manhattan. So are toxic chemicals. But, what the heck. We all have to die of something someday.

I'm down with that...the inner-city olympics is next week.

 

She just wants to go to New York because she hasn't been able to find a decent pickle since she left.

 

I thought we could sit around the fireplace for a quiet evening of mahjong with Etienne, the motel manager. Then we could get out the ouija board and try to summon John Rutsey. I'm sure he'd have a lot of interesting things to say.

Not only a good pickle, but a good bagel and pizza too.

 

I'll dust off my mahjong tiles, but leave me out of the summoning of the deceased. I have enough problems with the living.

Well did you survive? Hard to find a bathroom?

 

I hope you guys aren't waiting for some kind of New Year's Eve report from the Huguenot. You two balked at the ouija board idea, so I'll have to think of another way to contact John Rutsey.

Twas a holiday bro—no worries!

 

True, but I had plenty of time to come up with something beforehand. I'll post a report soon, otherwise H.P.L. will return to find nothing but chit-chat in this thread.

No no! I step forward to commit an update VERY soon. Hope it doesn't suck—but hey I try my darnedest with each and every one

[Lorraine]

I never made it to the Big Apple, my love of pickles, bagels and pizza notwithstanding.

 

The folksers at the airport accused me of, among other things, being a lover of noxious vapor trails and a Pez fanatic. As if that wasn't bad enough, one of the security people recognized me from a photo he had seen in the newspaper taken when we were lolling about in Santa Barbara County at the Ranch. He asked if I was a friend of that man who ran around with that chimp that wears clothes. I acknowledged that I was, and he then proceeded to go on a PETA rant.

 

Upon returning to our primitive motel, I found that I was alone. I had thought that Substance wanted to spend a quiet night in front of the fire, but he was nowhere in sight. But then he showed up determined to contact the late John Rutsey. No chance of dear John resting in peace. Substance is determined to get the lowdown from him come hell or high water.

 

Bone weary at this point, I mustered up enough strength to roam the streets in search of a church that was opened but Substance had a better chance of contacting John than I did of finding an open church.

 

:sigh:

[Lorraine]

Tombstone, maybe we are burnt out? I know my brain has felt, the past month or so, like someone shot Novocain in it.

[HomesickAlien]

I never made it to the Big Apple, my love of pickles, bagels and pizza notwithstanding.

 

The folksers at the airport accused me of, among other things, being a lover of noxious vapor trails and a Pez fanatic. As if that wasn't bad enough, one of the security people recognized me from a photo he had seen in the newspaper taken when we were lolling about in Santa Barbara County at the Ranch. He asked if I was a friend of that man who ran around with that chimp that wears clothes. I acknowledged that I was, and he then proceeded to go on a PETA rant.

 

Upon returning to our primitive motel, I found that I was alone. I had thought that Substance wanted to spend a quiet night in front of the fire, but he was nowhere in sight. But then he showed up determined to contact the late John Rutsey. No chance of dear John resting in peace. Substance is determined to get the lowdown from him come hell or high water.

 

Bone weary at this point, I mustered up enough strength to roam the streets in search of a church that was opened but Substance had a better chance of contacting John than I did of finding an open church.

 

:sigh:

 

[HomesickAlien]

Tombstone, maybe we are burnt out? I know my brain has felt, the past month or so, like someone shot Novocain in it.

 

That's just the frigid Toronto winter weather. I'm sure we'll feel reinvigorated once the Inner-City Olympics are underway.

[Lorraine]

Tombstone, maybe we are burnt out? I know my brain has felt, the past month or so, like someone shot Novocain in it.

 

That's just the frigid Toronto winter weather. I'm sure we'll feel reinvigorated once the Inner-City Olympics are underway.

We will?

[Lorraine]

Even Tombstone has deserted us.

 

Things are really bad.

 

Our foreign correspondents are nowhere to be found. Not a peep from either in days.

 

Our domestic friends have flown the coop.

 

No Rushgoober. The poor little guy. I hope he is all right.

 

Just you and me left Substance.

[Tombstone Mountain]

Even Tombstone has deserted us.

 

Things are really bad.

 

Our foreign correspondents are nowhere to be found. Not a peep from either in days.

 

Our domestic friends have flown the coop.

 

No Rushgoober. The poor little guy. I hope he is all right.

 

Just you and me left Substance.

No, oh no. I'm right here. In a cage. Hanging from the beak of a giant owl with a dwarf, who is asking me about the Yukon Blade Grinder, its origins, and how we managed to become so relevant as to make it to 10,000 hits for this thread.

 

I'm not giving him the secret...and he's a little miffed.

[Tombstone Mountain]

He's showing me his tattoo that all of the British Repertoires Acclaimed Wee Legion have on their arms. It's a unicorn with a naked female dwarf riding on its back.

[HomesickAlien]

Only two posts in this thread in 48 hours?

 

 

http://aussiestorageblog.files.wordpress.com/2013/04/its-dead-jim.jpg

[H. P. L.]

Never fear, guys. HUGE news are coming from the land of the rising sun! I've had to disguise myself as a zen monk and abandon all electronic equipment for a week to do it, but now it's done and it's huge and it will blow your minds. Hold your breath!

[Tombstone Mountain]

Only two posts in this thread in 48 hours?

 

 

http://aussiestorageblog.files.wordpress.com/2013/04/its-dead-jim.jpg

Whatever Bones...get back to the doctors office

[H. P. L.]

The Yukon Blade Grinder Europe

(currently grindin’ blades in the land of the risin’ sun)

 

presents

 

“I am an alien from planet Mega-something!”

 

 

Chapter one. The night and the white foxes

The white foxes know the truth. They come out to greet me every night from their small shrines, with their red ears and pointy, smiley faces. They seem to know every kind of truth, but as every true possessor of truth, they keep it for themselves.

Harsher is the destiny of the reporter, who seeks not enlightenment for himself but knowledge for the masses. I am here to understand and share. The white foxes understand and keep on smiling.

 

For weeks now the YBGE has been following the trail of news surrounding Yuki Kitazume, the main actor in the late-70s sentai series Megaloman, in which he played the role of young space warrior Takashi Shishidô, protecting Earth from the destructive monsters of the Black Star as the long-haired kung-fu colossus Megaloman. Apparently Kitazume has lately suffered from many “unlucky accidents” that nearly cost him his life. According to former co-star Pepe Hozumi, these accidents are actually killings gone wrong. But furthermore, Hosumi is adamantly sure that Kitazume is really an alien.

 

http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/6776/vlcsnap310843.png

(above: Kitazume in his heyday as Megaloman)

 

For an entire week I’ve been meeting Kitazume. He agreed to meet me only at night and only in the Sasuke Inari Temple, lost in the wooden hills surrounding the city of Kamakura. No technological instruments or even electric appliances were allowed. So I had to make my way uphill through an endless procession of red Tori doors lighting my way with matches, and scribble Kitazume’s answer on paper, with just a candle enough to be sure my pen was working.

 

http://www.browniebites.net/photos/japanblog037.jpg

(The path to Sasuke Inari Temple, by daylight. In the nighttime is so f*cking dark)

 

Kitazume is an angry old man. He is bitter, resentful, obsessed, paranoid and boasts a Tourette syndrome the size of a T. Rex. And yes, he’s truly an alien.

I had to assure him that I would pulish everything he said the way he said it. On one thing only he is adamant: he won’t say the name of his home planet. I tried all the tricks to make him slip, even playing the part of the air-brained journalist, but nothing worked. Anyway, it’s time to let Kitazume tell the tale.

 

Chapter two. The time-gap factor and the Mothership

 

So, Kitazume-san, you’re truly an alien from outer space?

No, you brain-fart d*ck-head. Who could come from outer space? It’s obvious I come from another planet.

 

The name of which you’re not willing to tell us, right?

You bet, you fool. He has a language control software, didn’t you know? Every time someone says that name, he knows!

 

Who are you talking about? Who is “he”?

Why, Lieutenant Curratello, of course! That steel-hearted bastard!

 

Excuse me, but… who would this Lieutenant Curratello be?

Listen, you pig-S*it headed gaijin, it’s best if I tell the tale from the beginning, ok?

 

Be my guest.

Fine. So, we became aware of your existance, I mean you human race, when you achieved long distance communication. How we rejoyed when we first picked up your signals! A race of brothers in a far corner of the Universe! All of M… of our planet exploded in joy. Of course we were aware that, due to the long distance between our planets, a lot of time passed between your broadcast and our reception. Our scientists called it “the time gap” and extimated it in 12 years. Not long after, we shivered in fear when your first “world war” erupted. Some of us were already begging to come to your rescue. But our leaders said no. Then the war ended and we all sighed in relief. But not too long after that, you were already deep in another, bloodier war. We listened in pure horror when you dropped an atom bomb right here, in this very country. At that point, there was no more a choice. We had to come to your help. So we delpoyed a ship. Some of us were even afraid that, due to the time gap, we would reach your planet only to find it dead and silent. But we held on to hope. One of our finest ships, the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah…

 

What a lousy name for a mothership…

In your language maybe, rat-brain. In our world it means “The long-distance traveller”! Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah travelled faster than the speed of light to your rescue… only to find out that our scientists had done wrong. The time gap wasn’t 12 years. It was fuc*ing 34 years!! We left after picking up broadcasts of 1945 and when we arrived it was 1967. Half the world was in the f*cking summer of love and the other half in another bloody war.

 

Excuse me, but 1967 minus 1945 doesn’t make 34…

That’s because the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah travels faster than your puny signals, you t*it.

 

And where would this Mothership be, now?

The same place it’s always been: in the orbit of Mars. It’s what you call the Deimos moon.

 

Excuse me again, Kitazume-san, but Galileo Galilei saw Phobos and Deimos in the XVII Century…

Yeah, that’s why we had to zap the real Deimos to another dimension and disguise the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah as a moon. That was the trickiest part of the program.

 

The program being?

Observing you and stopping you from committing mass suicide. We could pick up your signals almost real-time from Mars and send reports to Me… to our home planet in a faster way, using pre-laid transmission beams. At that time, the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah was commanded by Captain LeComte, a scientist, a soldier, a man of many talents, a truly enlightened being. All of us in the Mothership would have given our lives in an instant for him.

 

You mean you were a member of the Mothership?

Of course I was, you idiot.

 

And how did you end up here, playing Megaloman?

That… that was all Rush’s fault.

 

Chapter three. The renegade Captain and the Schism

For a while Kitazume seems lost in the vast deepness of space. He looks at the stars, in the small pieces of night the trees allow us to see, as if trying to find an answer. I look at the foxes, small statues of the divinity of this unique temple. Apparently the soon-to-be Shogun Yoritomo Minamoto had a dream of a fox in this same place, while on exile, and decided to build a temple in her honor.

It takes a while before Kitazume speaks again.

 

So for the first years we stuck to our mission. Mass decimation seemed to be out of the question, even if there were some close calls in the early 70s. Captain LeComte was keen on observing all kinds of Earth’s cultural aspects, and in a short while he became a fan of progressive rock. Moreover, he became obsessed with the Canadian power-trio Rush.

 

Why Rush?

He probably liked their music. But even more, I think it had to do with their double-neck guitars. You see, they played a strange sexual connection to our anatomy, since we have two…

 

Please Kitazume-san, let’s keep this… information for another time.

OK, so LeComte became more and more obsessed with Rush, and by the time the 2112 album came out, he was a total Objectivist. He started selecting the information that was to be bounced off to our planet. He said he knew best. Some of the officials were not too happy about this, but facing LeComte was like facing the wrong end of Neil Peart’s drumsticks. Things became rough. Then, shortly after the release of Hemispheres, the second-in-command, Lieutenant Curratello, made a coup. He tried to seize control of the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah. The crew was split in half. Brotherly blood was shed. LeComte and all of his faithful followers fled to Earth.

 

And you… were one of them?

Yeah. I was. We scattered all over the planet. We can pass easily for humans. Even more so nowadays, when Rush have become cool.

 

And what about the Megaloman show?

That was a way of trying to tell you the truth without telling it. You see, the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah has terrible weapons. It has a moving waves cannon! Can you believe it? And Curratello… he’s a sad, ambitious and ultimately a totally idiotic fellow. There’s no telling what he would do. We tried many times. The “Galaxy Quest” movie was written and produced by some of us. It’s just one of many examples. But still, you all take this just as kid’s stuff.

 

You said that your people are scattered all over the planet. Are there some of yours in the Vatican?

I’m not answering that question.

 

Are there some of yours in the City Council of Toronto?

Not answering either.

 

Where's captain LeComte now?

No way I'm telling!

 

You do realise you're not very helpful, do you?

Never mind. Whatever that crazy Ford guy is trying to make happen, it will only end in dismal woe. I assure you. Let me tell you something, young man: fear the sky. Fear the night when Phobos appears. For in the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah, Lieutenant Curratello sits alone in the Commander’s seat, and his thoughts are just his own.

 

Chapter four. The here and now

Thus ended my sixth night in Sasuke Inari temple, listening to Yuki Kitazume and his truth. The dawn brought small comfort, as he left with an incredible agility for a man his age. All I could do was turn to the foxes for comfort, but their enigmatic smiles proved to be a mockery. I haven’t been able to look at the night sky ever since. All I can think about is Lieutenant Curratello, watching over us in his empy control room, pondering. What if he didn’t like Vapor Trails? What if the didn’t like Clockwork Angels? Is there a connection between the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah and the upcoming Inner-City Olympics of Toronto? Is there a connection between this alien race that’s been living among us for more than 25 years and the Neverland Ranch cult? All questions doomed to remain unanswered, at least for today. The only certainity is that the YBG will be there, even at the end of the world.

[Tombstone Mountain]

http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/sites/default/files/2012/05/goober.jpg

The Yukon Blade Grinder Europe.

 

How did they ever hear about me over there?

That's some spaced out stuff. I laughed real hard 'cause I like the Japanese monster shows!

[Tombstone Mountain]

The Yukon Blade Grinder Europe

(currently grindin’ blades in the land of the risin’ sun)

 

presents

 

“I am an alien from planet Mega-something!”

 

 

Chapter one. The night and the white foxes

The white foxes know the truth. They come out to greet me every night from their small shrines, with their red ears and pointy, smiley faces. They seem to know every kind of truth, but as every true possessor of truth, they keep it for themselves.

Harsher is the destiny of the reporter, who seeks not enlightenment for himself but knowledge for the masses. I am here to understand and share. The white foxes understand and keep on smiling.

 

For weeks now the YBGE has been following the trail of news surrounding Yuki Kitazume, the main actor in the late-70s sentai series Megaloman, in which he played the role of young space warrior Takashi Shishidô, protecting Earth from the destructive monsters of the Black Star as the long-haired kung-fu colossus Megaloman. Apparently Kitazume has lately suffered from many “unlucky accidents” that nearly cost him his life. According to former co-star Pepe Hozumi, these accidents are actually killings gone wrong. But furthermore, Hosumi is adamantly sure that Kitazume is really an alien.

 

http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/6776/vlcsnap310843.png

(above: Kitazume in his heyday as Megaloman)

 

For an entire week I’ve been meeting Kitazume. He agreed to meet me only at night and only in the Sasuke Inari Temple, lost in the wooden hills surrounding the city of Kamakura. No technological instruments or even electric appliances were allowed. So I had to make my way uphill through an endless procession of red Tori doors lighting my way with matches, and scribble Kitazume’s answer on paper, with just a candle enough to be sure my pen was working.

 

http://www.browniebites.net/photos/japanblog037.jpg

(The path to Sasuke Inari Temple, by daylight. In the nighttime is so f*cking dark)

 

Kitazume is an angry old man. He is bitter, resentful, obsessed, paranoid and boasts a Tourette syndrome the size of a T. Rex. And yes, he’s truly an alien.

I had to assure him that I would pulish everything he said the way he said it. On one thing only he is adamant: he won’t say the name of his home planet. I tried all the tricks to make him slip, even playing the part of the air-brained journalist, but nothing worked. Anyway, it’s time to let Kitazume tell the tale.

 

Chapter two. The time-gap factor and the Mothership

 

So, Kitazume-san, you’re truly an alien from outer space?

No, you brain-fart d*ck-head. Who could come from outer space? It’s obvious I come from another planet.

 

The name of which you’re not willing to tell us, right?

You bet, you fool. He has a language control software, didn’t you know? Every time someone says that name, he knows!

 

Who are you talking about? Who is “he”?

Why, Lieutenant Curratello, of course! That steel-hearted bastard!

 

Excuse me, but… who would this Lieutenant Curratello be?

Listen, you pig-S*it headed gaijin, it’s best if I tell the tale from the beginning, ok?

 

Be my guest.

Fine. So, we became aware of your existance, I mean you human race, when you achieved long distance communication. How we rejoyed when we first picked up your signals! A race of brothers in a far corner of the Universe! All of M… of our planet exploded in joy. Of course we were aware that, due to the long distance between our planets, a lot of time passed between your broadcast and our reception. Our scientists called it “the time gap” and extimated it in 12 years. Not long after, we shivered in fear when your first “world war” erupted. Some of us were already begging to come to your rescue. But our leaders said no. Then the war ended and we all sighed in relief. But not too long after that, you were already deep in another, bloodier war. We listened in pure horror when you dropped an atom bomb right here, in this very country. At that point, there was no more a choice. We had to come to your help. So we delpoyed a ship. Some of us were even afraid that, due to the time gap, we would reach your planet only to find it dead and silent. But we held on to hope. One of our finest ships, the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah…

 

What a lousy name for a mothership…

In your language maybe, rat-brain. In our world it means “The long-distance traveller”! Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah travelled faster than the speed of light to your rescue… only to find out that our scientists had done wrong. The time gap wasn’t 12 years. It was fuc*ing 34 years!! We left after picking up broadcasts of 1945 and when we arrived it was 1967. Half the world was in the f*cking summer of love and the other half in another bloody war.

 

Excuse me, but 1967 minus 1945 doesn’t make 34…

That’s because the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah travels faster than your puny signals, you t*it.

 

And where would this Mothership be, now?

The same place it’s always been: in the orbit of Mars. It’s what you call the Deimos moon.

 

Excuse me again, Kitazume-san, but Galileo Galilei saw Phobos and Deimos in the XVII Century…

Yeah, that’s why we had to zap the real Deimos to another dimension and disguise the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah as a moon. That was the trickiest part of the program.

 

The program being?

Observing you and stopping you from committing mass suicide. We could pick up your signals almost real-time from Mars and send reports to Me… to our home planet in a faster way, using pre-laid transmission beams. At that time, the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah was commanded by Captain LeComte, a scientist, a soldier, a man of many talents, a truly enlightened being. All of us in the Mothership would have given our lives in an instant for him.

 

You mean you were a member of the Mothership?

Of course I was, you idiot.

 

And how did you end up here, playing Megaloman?

That… that was all Rush’s fault.

 

Chapter three. The renegade Captain and the Schism

For a while Kitazume seems lost in the vast deepness of space. He looks at the stars, in the small pieces of night the trees allow us to see, as if trying to find an answer. I look at the foxes, small statues of the divinity of this unique temple. Apparently the soon-to-be Shogun Yoritomo Minamoto had a dream of a fox in this same place, while on exile, and decided to build a temple in her honor.

It takes a while before Kitazume speaks again.

 

So for the first years we stuck to our mission. Mass decimation seemed to be out of the question, even if there were some close calls in the early 70s. Captain LeComte was keen on observing all kinds of Earth’s cultural aspects, and in a short while he became a fan of progressive rock. Moreover, he became obsessed with the Canadian power-trio Rush.

 

Why Rush?

He probably liked their music. But even more, I think it had to do with their double-neck guitars. You see, they played a strange sexual connection to our anatomy, since we have two…

 

Please Kitazume-san, let’s keep this… information for another time.

OK, so LeComte became more and more obsessed with Rush, and by the time the 2112 album came out, he was a total Objectivist. He started selecting the information that was to be bounced off to our planet. He said he knew best. Some of the officials were not too happy about this, but facing LeComte was like facing the wrong end of Neil Peart’s drumsticks. Things became rough. Then, shortly after the release of Hemispheres, the second-in-command, Lieutenant Curratello, made a coup. He tried to seize control of the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah. The crew was split in half. Brotherly blood was shed. LeComte and all of his faithful followers fled to Earth.

 

And you… were one of them?

Yeah. I was. We scattered all over the planet. We can pass easily for humans. Even more so nowadays, when Rush have become cool.

 

And what about the Megaloman show?

That was a way of trying to tell you the truth without telling it. You see, the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah has terrible weapons. It has a moving waves cannon! Can you believe it? And Curratello… he’s a sad, ambitious and ultimately a totally idiotic fellow. There’s no telling what he would do. We tried many times. The “Galaxy Quest” movie was written and produced by some of us. It’s just one of many examples. But still, you all take this just as kid’s stuff.

 

You said that your people are scattered all over the planet. Are there some of yours in the Vatican?

I’m not answering that question.

 

Are there some of yours in the City Council of Toronto?

Not answering either.

 

Where's captain LeComte now?

No way I'm telling!

 

You do realise you're not very helpful, do you?

Never mind. Whatever that crazy Ford guy is trying to make happen, it will only end in dismal woe. I assure you. Let me tell you something, young man: fear the sky. Fear the night when Phobos appears. For in the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah, Lieutenant Curratello sits alone in the Commander’s seat, and his thoughts are just his own.

 

Chapter four. The here and now

Thus ended my sixth night in Sasuke Inari temple, listening to Yuki Kitazume and his truth. The dawn brought small comfort, as he left with an incredible agility for a man his age. All I could do was turn to the foxes for comfort, but their enigmatic smiles proved to be a mockery. I haven’t been able to look at the night sky ever since. All I can think about is Lieutenant Curratello, watching over us in his empy control room, pondering. What if he didn’t like Vapor Trails? What if the didn’t like Clockwork Angels? Is there a connection between the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah and the upcoming Inner-City Olympics of Toronto? Is there a connection between this alien race that’s been living among us for more than 25 years and the Neverland Ranch cult? All questions doomed to remain unanswered, at least for today. The only certainity is that the YBG will be there, even at the end of the world.

 

This is so out there. Man it's the shiznit.

 

The Might Mothership Buh Bah from Megadon—it does not get any cooler!

[Tombstone Mountain]

The Yukon Blade Grinder Europe

(currently grindin’ blades in the land of the risin’ sun)

 

presents

 

“I am an alien from planet Mega-something!”

 

 

Chapter one. The night and the white foxes

The white foxes know the truth. They come out to greet me every night from their small shrines, with their red ears and pointy, smiley faces. They seem to know every kind of truth, but as every true possessor of truth, they keep it for themselves.

Harsher is the destiny of the reporter, who seeks not enlightenment for himself but knowledge for the masses. I am here to understand and share. The white foxes understand and keep on smiling.

 

For weeks now the YBGE has been following the trail of news surrounding Yuki Kitazume, the main actor in the late-70s sentai series Megaloman, in which he played the role of young space warrior Takashi Shishidô, protecting Earth from the destructive monsters of the Black Star as the long-haired kung-fu colossus Megaloman. Apparently Kitazume has lately suffered from many “unlucky accidents” that nearly cost him his life. According to former co-star Pepe Hozumi, these accidents are actually killings gone wrong. But furthermore, Hosumi is adamantly sure that Kitazume is really an alien.

 

http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/6776/vlcsnap310843.png

(above: Kitazume in his heyday as Megaloman)

 

For an entire week I’ve been meeting Kitazume. He agreed to meet me only at night and only in the Sasuke Inari Temple, lost in the wooden hills surrounding the city of Kamakura. No technological instruments or even electric appliances were allowed. So I had to make my way uphill through an endless procession of red Tori doors lighting my way with matches, and scribble Kitazume’s answer on paper, with just a candle enough to be sure my pen was working.

 

http://www.browniebites.net/photos/japanblog037.jpg

(The path to Sasuke Inari Temple, by daylight. In the nighttime is so f*cking dark)

 

Kitazume is an angry old man. He is bitter, resentful, obsessed, paranoid and boasts a Tourette syndrome the size of a T. Rex. And yes, he’s truly an alien.

I had to assure him that I would pulish everything he said the way he said it. On one thing only he is adamant: he won’t say the name of his home planet. I tried all the tricks to make him slip, even playing the part of the air-brained journalist, but nothing worked. Anyway, it’s time to let Kitazume tell the tale.

 

Chapter two. The time-gap factor and the Mothership

 

So, Kitazume-san, you’re truly an alien from outer space?

No, you brain-fart d*ck-head. Who could come from outer space? It’s obvious I come from another planet.

 

The name of which you’re not willing to tell us, right?

You bet, you fool. He has a language control software, didn’t you know? Every time someone says that name, he knows!

 

Who are you talking about? Who is “he”?

Why, Lieutenant Curratello, of course! That steel-hearted bastard!

 

Excuse me, but… who would this Lieutenant Curratello be?

Listen, you pig-S*it headed gaijin, it’s best if I tell the tale from the beginning, ok?

 

Be my guest.

Fine. So, we became aware of your existance, I mean you human race, when you achieved long distance communication. How we rejoyed when we first picked up your signals! A race of brothers in a far corner of the Universe! All of M… of our planet exploded in joy. Of course we were aware that, due to the long distance between our planets, a lot of time passed between your broadcast and our reception. Our scientists called it “the time gap” and extimated it in 12 years. Not long after, we shivered in fear when your first “world war” erupted. Some of us were already begging to come to your rescue. But our leaders said no. Then the war ended and we all sighed in relief. But not too long after that, you were already deep in another, bloodier war. We listened in pure horror when you dropped an atom bomb right here, in this very country. At that point, there was no more a choice. We had to come to your help. So we delpoyed a ship. Some of us were even afraid that, due to the time gap, we would reach your planet only to find it dead and silent. But we held on to hope. One of our finest ships, the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah…

 

What a lousy name for a mothership…

In your language maybe, rat-brain. In our world it means “The long-distance traveller”! Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah travelled faster than the speed of light to your rescue… only to find out that our scientists had done wrong. The time gap wasn’t 12 years. It was fuc*ing 34 years!! We left after picking up broadcasts of 1945 and when we arrived it was 1967. Half the world was in the f*cking summer of love and the other half in another bloody war.

 

Excuse me, but 1967 minus 1945 doesn’t make 34…

That’s because the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah travels faster than your puny signals, you t*it.

 

And where would this Mothership be, now?

The same place it’s always been: in the orbit of Mars. It’s what you call the Deimos moon.

 

Excuse me again, Kitazume-san, but Galileo Galilei saw Phobos and Deimos in the XVII Century…

Yeah, that’s why we had to zap the real Deimos to another dimension and disguise the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah as a moon. That was the trickiest part of the program.

 

The program being?

Observing you and stopping you from committing mass suicide. We could pick up your signals almost real-time from Mars and send reports to Me… to our home planet in a faster way, using pre-laid transmission beams. At that time, the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah was commanded by Captain LeComte, a scientist, a soldier, a man of many talents, a truly enlightened being. All of us in the Mothership would have given our lives in an instant for him.

 

You mean you were a member of the Mothership?

Of course I was, you idiot.

 

And how did you end up here, playing Megaloman?

That… that was all Rush’s fault.

 

Chapter three. The renegade Captain and the Schism

For a while Kitazume seems lost in the vast deepness of space. He looks at the stars, in the small pieces of night the trees allow us to see, as if trying to find an answer. I look at the foxes, small statues of the divinity of this unique temple. Apparently the soon-to-be Shogun Yoritomo Minamoto had a dream of a fox in this same place, while on exile, and decided to build a temple in her honor.

It takes a while before Kitazume speaks again.

 

So for the first years we stuck to our mission. Mass decimation seemed to be out of the question, even if there were some close calls in the early 70s. Captain LeComte was keen on observing all kinds of Earth’s cultural aspects, and in a short while he became a fan of progressive rock. Moreover, he became obsessed with the Canadian power-trio Rush.

 

Why Rush?

He probably liked their music. But even more, I think it had to do with their double-neck guitars. You see, they played a strange sexual connection to our anatomy, since we have two…

 

Please Kitazume-san, let’s keep this… information for another time.

OK, so LeComte became more and more obsessed with Rush, and by the time the 2112 album came out, he was a total Objectivist. He started selecting the information that was to be bounced off to our planet. He said he knew best. Some of the officials were not too happy about this, but facing LeComte was like facing the wrong end of Neil Peart’s drumsticks. Things became rough. Then, shortly after the release of Hemispheres, the second-in-command, Lieutenant Curratello, made a coup. He tried to seize control of the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah. The crew was split in half. Brotherly blood was shed. LeComte and all of his faithful followers fled to Earth.

 

And you… were one of them?

Yeah. I was. We scattered all over the planet. We can pass easily for humans. Even more so nowadays, when Rush have become cool.

 

And what about the Megaloman show?

That was a way of trying to tell you the truth without telling it. You see, the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah has terrible weapons. It has a moving waves cannon! Can you believe it? And Curratello… he’s a sad, ambitious and ultimately a totally idiotic fellow. There’s no telling what he would do. We tried many times. The “Galaxy Quest” movie was written and produced by some of us. It’s just one of many examples. But still, you all take this just as kid’s stuff.

 

You said that your people are scattered all over the planet. Are there some of yours in the Vatican?

I’m not answering that question.

 

Are there some of yours in the City Council of Toronto?

Not answering either.

 

Where's captain LeComte now?

No way I'm telling!

 

You do realise you're not very helpful, do you?

Never mind. Whatever that crazy Ford guy is trying to make happen, it will only end in dismal woe. I assure you. Let me tell you something, young man: fear the sky. Fear the night when Phobos appears. For in the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah, Lieutenant Curratello sits alone in the Commander’s seat, and his thoughts are just his own.

 

Chapter four. The here and now

Thus ended my sixth night in Sasuke Inari temple, listening to Yuki Kitazume and his truth. The dawn brought small comfort, as he left with an incredible agility for a man his age. All I could do was turn to the foxes for comfort, but their enigmatic smiles proved to be a mockery. I haven’t been able to look at the night sky ever since. All I can think about is Lieutenant Curratello, watching over us in his empy control room, pondering. What if he didn’t like Vapor Trails? What if the didn’t like Clockwork Angels? Is there a connection between the Mighty Mothership Bub-Bah and the upcoming Inner-City Olympics of Toronto? Is there a connection between this alien race that’s been living among us for more than 25 years and the Neverland Ranch cult? All questions doomed to remain unanswered, at least for today. The only certainity is that the YBG will be there, even at the end of the world.

 

That's crazy good...it's brilliant! Double-necks connecting with alien anatomy-- :dweez:

Edited January 6, 2014 by Tombstone Mountain

[ThatLightInYourEyes]

November 25, 2013: Electric Kool-Aid Acid Stomach Edition

 

http://www.digitaloperative.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/KoolAidMan_Fullpic_2.png

 

Several stories have broken in just the last couple of days regarding the Rushgoober scandal that has reached as far as Neverland Ranch and The Vatican. We now have confirmed video brought to us by a cult follower who claims to have ingested a Jesus Juice-like Kool-Aid mixture containing Holy Water and bathtub gin:

 

 

As you can see, the playing of Rush’s Vapor Trails album was necessary to induce vomiting in this case. The anonymous source says that other drastic methods used to remove said Kool-Aid mixture included massive doses of Dirxst fan fiction and some demo CD’s from a bad Rush tribute band called Hurry Yourself.

 

“We needed to take the most extreme measures we could think of.” Said the cult member. “Rushgoober doesn’t know we’re alive, so don’t post this online because he might be lurking.”

 

The source also claims that Rushgoober tried to win back favor from The Pope by imitating St. Francis of Assisi and removing all of his clothing in front of him to show his sense of austerity. The Pope could not be reached for comment, as his aides have told us that he’s currently holed up and saying The Rosary repeatedly.

We need more of this from chick...were is she?

 

Right here, dude. I'm in the YBG's new Warm Weather Bureau, which consists of a rickety houseboat with "borrowed" wi-fi. There's been a story in these parts that Rushgoober may have escaped down south, so we're following that right now.

[Tombstone Mountain]

November 25, 2013: Electric Kool-Aid Acid Stomach Edition

 

http://www.digitaloperative.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/KoolAidMan_Fullpic_2.png

 

Several stories have broken in just the last couple of days regarding the Rushgoober scandal that has reached as far as Neverland Ranch and The Vatican. We now have confirmed video brought to us by a cult follower who claims to have ingested a Jesus Juice-like Kool-Aid mixture containing Holy Water and bathtub gin:

 

 

As you can see, the playing of Rush’s Vapor Trails album was necessary to induce vomiting in this case. The anonymous source says that other drastic methods used to remove said Kool-Aid mixture included massive doses of Dirxst fan fiction and some demo CD’s from a bad Rush tribute band called Hurry Yourself.

 

“We needed to take the most extreme measures we could think of.” Said the cult member. “Rushgoober doesn’t know we’re alive, so don’t post this online because he might be lurking.”

 

The source also claims that Rushgoober tried to win back favor from The Pope by imitating St. Francis of Assisi and removing all of his clothing in front of him to show his sense of austerity. The Pope could not be reached for comment, as his aides have told us that he’s currently holed up and saying The Rosary repeatedly.

We need more of this from chick...were is she?

 

Right here, dude. I'm in the YBG's new Warm Weather Bureau, which consists of a rickety houseboat with "borrowed" wi-fi. There's been a story in these parts that Rushgoober may have escaped down south, so we're following that right now.

South? No he's in a cage hanging front the beak of La chouette du Canada...The YBG has pics