RushGoober!

[HomesickAlien]

Edited March 23, 2014 by substancewithoutstyle

[Tombstone Mountain]

Still no signs of him.. Time to get some private investigators on this case..

Really?

 

You haven't read the aforementioned thread. He's in Toronto being held by Mayor Rob Ford

I did!

No I don't think you have...prepare for your education

[HomesickAlien]

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!

[HomesickAlien]

The Yukon Blade Grinder

Going Papal Edition

 

11.24.13

Vatican City

 

Neverland Ranch is used to having vigils outside its gates. Back in the day it was a magnet for creepiness and hero worship. Even when Michael Jackson was alive, fans would show up to light a candle in honor of their beloved “Moonwalker”. Today, the Yukon Blade Grinder goes straight to the top in terms of vigils, votive candles, and the ultimate show of Vapor Trails support.

 

With the elements of the story changing every day for the worse, a cheerful outcome seems impossible regarding the “Spirits of Neverland Ranch” case. Containing the most bizarre of cultic practices involving cannibalism, stone formations, and oppressed women on animals, one normally turns away from such evil. Not this media monolith! The Yukon Blade Grinder is fresh from an enthralling two-day interview with the Seven Cities of Gold dancers, and now ready to get back in the game to confront reality.

 

Now dear readers, the story has reached spiritual heights. Truth be told after spending time with the Seven Cities of Gold dancers, the YBG could use a little forgiveness.

 

Rarified Air

 

In most instances when dealing with the Yukon Blade Grinder, people adapt accordingly for a chance to share their story. However, when dealing with the most recognized living religious figure in the solar system, the Grinder will always make an exception.

 

Summoned to Vatican City by our German and Italian desks, the Yukon Blade Grinder is ready to report the news. Hundreds of thousands crowded St. Peter’s square, and waited for the word. Countless beach balls flew over the boisterous crowd. Flags from every corner of the globe were waving in anticipation of the day’s message. Even soccer anthems permeated the air. Spectacles become markers in history, always in the corner of our collective memories crying out “I was here” when Pope Francis brought the wood to Rush Goober. The Blade Grinder was on the scene as it happened.

 

The Seven Deadly Sins Revisited

 

Known as the “Peppy Pontiff”, Pope Francis has great warmth exuding from his soul. He’s a real people person. He loves his job and always ready to get out amongst the folks. As the doors opened from the papal balcony, he made his grand entrance. The crowd erupted into a frenzy, showing the love to the their leader. Calming the crowd the Pope issued the cue for the sounds of ringing church and tubular bells. It sounded awfully familiar.

 

“Today, I come to you with a message from the peak of Mt. Nerd. Listen well, my friends!” The Pope spoke with authority, then compassion.

 

“To the men who hold high places—you must be the one’s who start.

You need to mold a new reality, closer to the heart.

The blacksmith and the artist reflect it in their art.

They should forge their creativity, closer to the heart. YES!!! Closer to the heart.”

 

Those words hung in the air, creating a symphony of nouns, verbs, and adjectives. The Pope smiled and clasped his hands together. He continued.

 

“The philosopher and the plowmen—each must know his part.

Sowing new mentalities, closer to the heart, YEAH, closer to the heart.

Let me be your captain. I will draw the chart.

We’re sailing into destiny, closer to the heart.”

 

The crowd fed off his energy, rocking back and forth arm in arm, hanging on every word. “Listen. You’ve heard it all before. Wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy, and gluttony, are sins that will bring you to your knees—like a Vapor Trail. Today, from St. Peter’s Basilica, I give you another. Cruelty to animals is awful and to endorse cannibalism is a shame. Brainwashing helpless strippers is deplorable. But this, this is where I draw the line. Thou shall not impersonate a Rush fan. To do so is an unforgivable sin. It’s a combination of all seven that came before it…plus it’s just mean.”

 

The Pope stared out into the sea of humanity and plowed on. “As I’ve said before, I’m not here to judge anybody, but to share boundless love. However, there’s a tipping point, even for me. These fans have endured decades of slander, bullying, and intellectual dishonesty from all angles of society. They’ve never been popular, and have always reminded of that fact. They’ve been the target of scorn and rage from those who think they’re “better” than everyone else. No more. We honor the Rush fan. Trolling Rush Fan websites, causing hate and discontent is banned. To the Rush fan, you are no longer detached, no longer subdivided. The dreamer. The misfit. You, who are so alone—come unto me and we’ll listen to Vapor Trails together.” The crowd then responded with their own version of YYZ, in a chant that would make most Brazilians jealous.

 

At that moment the Pope broke centuries of protocol, freaking out his collective entourage of cardinals, and began to rip off his vestments, including papal hat, to reveal something very personal to him. The crowd’s huge roar was an approval for his Vapor Trails tour shirt, and knock-off of a certain drummer’s signature hat. He then proclaimed, “Today Rush fans we unite!”

 

The Dawn of a New Day

 

No wonder this pontiff is off the charts with the common person. He’s a riot. He continued with his edict. “And those who transgress against the band, remember these words: You will burn in Hell! Before preparing this message I did some soul searching. I started in the Sistine Chapel, pacing back and forth. Searching for some inspiration. I got nothing in that dusty room. I then decided to go down in the Necropolis, among the dead bones of those who came before me.” The Pope then raised his hands and continued, “I spoke to them. I spoke to them words that would hopefully bring them to life, to give me some comfort and encouragement to deliver today’s message.”

 

He paused, the crowd mere putty in his hands. “Rising out of their crypts, the bones danced and spoke these words:

 

Jack, relax. Get busy with the facts.

No zodiacs or almanacs. No maniacs in polyester slacks.

Just the facts. You gotta kick some gluteus max.

It’s a parallax, ya dig?

 

When you move around the small gets big, it’s a rig.

It’s action—reaction. Random interaction.

Don’t be afraid of little abstractions. You can’t get satisfaction from the facts.

You’d better run homeboy—facts a fact from Rome to Gnome boy!

 

What’s the deal?

Spin the wheel. If the dice are hot—take a shot.

Play your cards. Show us what you got—what you’re holding.

If the cards are cold, don’t go folding. Lady luck is golden.

She favors the bold and that’s cold.

Stop throwing stones—the night has a 1000 saxophones.

Get out there and rock and roll the bones—Get busy!!!”

 

The Pope continued, “That doesn’t happen every day at the Vatican. Now. To my friend who is sitting in a jail cell on the far side of the world—repent, and denounce your trolling ways. Embrace BU2B2. Embrace Vapor Trails. Your soul depends on it!”

With that final statement, Pope Francis left the festivities to the chants of the crowd—“Turn or Burn! Turn or Burn! Turn or Burn!”

 

At that point this reporter, along with my friends from the German and Italian news desks, sat on the edge of a fountain, watching the crowd of people disperse. The wind whisked around us, spreading its cold chill and blowing litter hither and dither. Night slowly approached and we were alone, wondering how a tiny dwarf incarcerated in the Santa Barbara jail could manage to piss off the Pope. As it turns out there were many reasons.

 

Saying our goodbyes, we felt the same as before the Pope’s sermon. Confused.

 

Flying out of Rome, this Yukon Blade Grinder reporter was still scratching his head. Now, Judge Hhang M. Hi looms on the horizon. Goober better hope she’s in a better frame of mind than Pope Francis.

[GeminiRising79]

“Out on the streets,

that’s where we meet”

--Ratt Round and Round

 

I had to put on the Ratt CD from '84 after that quote! What a great year..

Edited March 23, 2014 by GeminiRising79

[losingit2k]

Did he say why he has been absent from posting? And I have a feeling Goober would be a great teacher! I would sign up for that forum, and we all know how much he loves Vapor Trails! Haha. Well, I have a conspiracy theory about it, what if he is actually a different member. Instead of completely leaving, as you know we have a few members who have reported him as being in the chat room. What if he made another account a little before his mysterious absence?? Does anyone have any idea who I'm talking about? So instead of just lurking around, he is using a different account to upset people?? Ding-ding the Oklahoma boy! Inyo!

 

That is funny that you say that, because I have the same suspicion too - that he is actually still among us under another name.

 

You wouldn't by any chance have any idea who that would be, would you?

 

This is my suspicion as well! He's gone undercover. Deep, deep undercover.

Edited March 23, 2014 by losingit2k

[Tombstone Mountain]

Did he say why he has been absent from posting? And I have a feeling Goober would be a great teacher! I would sign up for that forum, and we all know how much he loves Vapor Trails! Haha. Well, I have a conspiracy theory about it, what if he is actually a different member. Instead of completely leaving, as you know we have a few members who have reported him as being in the chat room. What if he made another account a little before his mysterious absence?? Does anyone have any idea who I'm talking about? So instead of just lurking around, he is using a different account to upset people?? Ding-ding the Oklahoma boy! Inyo!

 

That is funny that you say that, because I have the same suspicion too - that he is actually still among us under another name.

 

You wouldn't by any chance have any idea who that would be, would you?

 

This is my suspicion as well! He's gone undercover. Deep, deep undercover.

Of course he has...he's a malignant narcissist.

[losingit2k]

Did he say why he has been absent from posting? And I have a feeling Goober would be a great teacher! I would sign up for that forum, and we all know how much he loves Vapor Trails! Haha. Well, I have a conspiracy theory about it, what if he is actually a different member. Instead of completely leaving, as you know we have a few members who have reported him as being in the chat room. What if he made another account a little before his mysterious absence?? Does anyone have any idea who I'm talking about? So instead of just lurking around, he is using a different account to upset people?? Ding-ding the Oklahoma boy! Inyo!

 

That is funny that you say that, because I have the same suspicion too - that he is actually still among us under another name.

 

You wouldn't by any chance have any idea who that would be, would you?

 

This is my suspicion as well! He's gone undercover. Deep, deep undercover.

Of course he has...he's a malignant narcissist.

 

I thought that was me?

[Tombstone Mountain]

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!

Mystery solved...you're welcome pars123.

[HomesickAlien]

We're getting closer to another

Yukon Blade Grinder

What can you expect faithful readers?

Well, since you asked

Sheduled to make an appearance,

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/a/a7/Mein_liebster_Feind_-_Klaus_Kinski_005567800.jpg/220px-Mein_liebster_Feind_-_Klaus_Kinski_005567800.jpg

even though he's dead.

And then we have

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/be/Carl_Sagan_Planetary_Society.JPG/220px-Carl_Sagan_Planetary_Society.JPG

Yeah, he's dead too,

but it doesn't matter—it's the

Yukon Blade Grinder

Also featured are the incomparable Seven

Four Cities of Gold Dancers

 

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/7/7c/The_Rockettes.jpg/220px-The_Rockettes.jpg

 

You're gonna find out what actually happened to

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/43/Michael_Jackson_Cannescropped.jpg/170px-Michael_Jackson_Cannescropped.jpg

Michael Jackson's nose from that awful

"Spirit's of Neverland" Ranch Fiasco.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/41/Neverland-ranch-memorial.jpg/220px-Neverland-ranch-memorial.jpg

You'll also learn more about that mysterious stone formation

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/e4/Bryn_Cader_Faner_stone_circle_-_geograph.org.uk_-_185579.jpg/300px-Bryn_Cader_Faner_stone_circle_-_geograph.org.uk_-_185579.jpg

 

And don't forget Chippy

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/7/7a/Streifenh%C3%B6rnchen_Zion.jpg/120px-Streifenh%C3%B6rnchen_Zion.jpg

and his friends from the Black Forest.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/d2/Wapiti_%2801%29_2006-09-19.JPG/220px-Wapiti_%2801%29_2006-09-19.JPG

 

You're gonna find out what can be done with roasted

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/6/63/Common-nuts.png/360px-Common-nuts.png

 

Our reporter on special assignment will be none other than

Werner Herzog

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/06/Werner_Herzog_Bruxelles_02_cropped.jpg/220px-Werner_Herzog_Bruxelles_02_cropped.jpg

taking you, the rabid reader on the trip of a lifetime.

 

Also featured, as apart of our music section

an exclusive

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/8/87/Wallace_%26_Gromit%27s_Musical_Marvels_logo.png/220px-Wallace_%26_Gromit%27s_Musical_Marvels_logo.png

tribute to

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/f/fd/GeddyLee.JPG/250px-GeddyLee.JPG

 

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/5/55/Alex_Lifeson.jpg/180px-Alex_Lifeson.jpg

 

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/1/13/Neil_Peart_performing_at_the_Air_Canada_Centre_on_October_16%2C_2012.jpg/250px-Neil_Peart_performing_at_the_Air_Canada_Centre_on_October_16%2C_2012.jpg

Wow!!!

But wait—there's more

For you're undying support to the

The Yukon Blade Grinder

you also get

a set of

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/3d/Old_Swiss_table_knives.JPG/220px-Old_Swiss_table_knives.JPG

 

That's not all

You also receive

a sneak peak into the new album by

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/c/cb/ABBA_-_TopPop_1974_5.png/220px-ABBA_-_TopPop_1974_5.png

and

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/2d/Judas_Priest%2C_p%C3%A4%C3%A4lava%2C_Sauna_Open_Air_2011%2C_Tampere%2C_11.6.2011_%2825%29.JPG/250px-Judas_Priest%2C_p%C3%A4%C3%A4lava%2C_Sauna_Open_Air_2011%2C_Tampere%2C_11.6.2011_%2825%29.JPG

 

With proceeds going to the

Save

the Black Forest

Organization

 

Coming Soon

[Tombstone Mountain]

“Out on the streets,

that’s where we meet”

--Ratt Round and Round

 

I had to put on the Ratt CD from '84 after that quote! What a great year..

I knew you'd find something worthwhile in the YBG!

[1-0-0-1-0-0-1]

Did he say why he has been absent from posting? And I have a feeling Goober would be a great teacher! I would sign up for that forum, and we all know how much he loves Vapor Trails! Haha. Well, I have a conspiracy theory about it, what if he is actually a different member. Instead of completely leaving, as you know we have a few members who have reported him as being in the chat room. What if he made another account a little before his mysterious absence?? Does anyone have any idea who I'm talking about? So instead of just lurking around, he is using a different account to upset people?? Ding-ding the Oklahoma boy! Inyo!

 

As far as I can tell Goobs does not have an alter. I've checked a few times. And Inyo is definitely not Goobs.

[Tombstone Mountain]

Did he say why he has been absent from posting? And I have a feeling Goober would be a great teacher! I would sign up for that forum, and we all know how much he loves Vapor Trails! Haha. Well, I have a conspiracy theory about it, what if he is actually a different member. Instead of completely leaving, as you know we have a few members who have reported him as being in the chat room. What if he made another account a little before his mysterious absence?? Does anyone have any idea who I'm talking about? So instead of just lurking around, he is using a different account to upset people?? Ding-ding the Oklahoma boy! Inyo!

 

As far as I can tell Goobs does not have an alter. I've checked a few times. And Inyo is definitely not Goobs.

I don't think Inyo knows who Inyo is

[GeminiRising79]

Inyo is Neil parodying his fanbase: Its Neil, You Orangutans

[MMCXII]

Watch for Goober to show up on April 1 claiming he likes vapour trails now.. You heard it here first!

[Tombstone Mountain]

Inyo is Neil parodying his fanbase: Its Neil, You Orangutans

Gemini...you're INYO. Do I get a prize or something?

 

 

[Pars123]

I have learned a lot by rereading those YBG posts... Hahaha. You never know though, and I second what you said tombstone, I don't think Inyo knows who Inyo is either! We will find out eventually, everything will be revealed soon..

[Tombstone Mountain]

I have learned a lot by rereading those YBG posts... Hahaha. You never know though, and I second what you said tombstone, I don't think Inyo knows who Inyo is either! We will find out eventually, everything will be revealed soon..

Oh, you have? What about the Yukon Blade Grinder Europe edition? We've got a polydactyl hand on the pulse of this situation. Goober's trolling has galactic implications

 

HPL is our YBG Europe Sr. Editor who's been on top of this like white on rice.

 

Enjoy the show.

Edited March 24, 2014 by Tombstone Mountain

[bathory]

inyo rules, I just wish he was less obvious in his trolling. he does seem to be getting a rise out of some folks. just think how much he'd piss people off if he was a bit more subtle

[BigBob]

You all had 'roast' to a forum member? You guys are nerds. And I'm sad i missed the whole thing :(

[Pars123]

You all had 'roast' to a forum member? You guys are nerds. And I'm sad i missed the whole thing :(

Haha they still post in that forum daily! It's in the random spheres part! And how many total YBG editions are there? I have more reading to do then...

[Tombstone Mountain]

You all had 'roast' to a forum member? You guys are nerds. And I'm sad i missed the whole thing :(

it's the TRF Prediction Thread and Roast in Random Samples. ..and yes, it's epic

[H. P. L.]

The Yukon Blade Grinder Europe Companion

 

 

Man seeks knowledge.

This is what sets him apart from vile beasts.

Wheter it's the knowledge that lets him distinguish an edible mushroom from a smokable mushroom, or a new unifying theory that may set peace between Rush geeks and Madonna fans, man seeks knowledge.

Sometimes, though, more than knowledge, man will seek shortcuts.

User Pars123, for example, is probably the kinda guy who would settle for a macrowaved tv dinner even if he has a nice pizzeria just down the stairs. The same way, he thought he could find knowledge about Goober just by making a thread called "Goober" in the wrong sub-forum. Little does he know about the ordeals we of the Yukon Blade Grinder have (and still are) gone through. Why, I was killed by Julie Deply. But let's be consistent about this, shall we? After all, Pars is after knowledge.

 

I was just a pro living his quiet life here in sunny Italy when, out of pure kind heart, I decided to help get Goober free from Sheriff Ron Howard's paws. So I took the liberty to set some wheels in motion and it all went to gigantic proportions when Pope Francis I made the now universally famous Speech from Mount Nerd, which you can read in previous pages.

That historical Speech had been preceded by a secret meeting between me, Tombstone and Francis, which was afterward published in what was to become YBGE in this form:

 

What a weird weekend this turned out to be.

I was looking for some deserved R&R with the family and ended up springing to Rome on Saturday afternoon to meet Tombstone Mountain (from now on: Tom), all the while, unbeknownst to me, the Vatican engine was working full cylinders.

That's why me and Tom, while on a conference call with Greyfriar, were approached by a white limo, which spawned two big, intimidating men all dressed in white! They looked like FBI agents of the movies, except they were all dressed in white! White jacket, white shoes. Heck, even their sunglasses were WHITE!

Tom, American pragmatism firmly in hand, took it for a tourist scam and was going to dismiss them. I had to take him by the arm and say: "Tom, this is serious".

"Are these what, secret service italian style?"

"In a limo? No way. They could barely afford a 500".

"So who are they, Berlusconi's men?"

"Nope, he would have sent a couple of amazons, and we would already be on rolling on the floor with our testicles in our throats".

"So who ARE they?".

"You wouldn't believe".

Thus saturday afternoon slowly crawled, while we, trapped in the limo, strolled through Rome ancient cobbled streets. Soccer superstar Francesco Totti (ANOTHER Francesco? Is there a design to this?) was downtown, creating a ruckus. But no way could we check the hot girls cruising Trinità dei Monti. We were due to a place where art and history loom, but where "sexy" is not a word well tolerated.

 

That's right: we ended up in the Catacombs of the Vatican, reeking with chilling cold, spiritual enlightenment and the the dust of millennia.

"Oooh, this is so Dan Brown!" giggled Tom. Rome turns everyone into a f*cking tourist. That's the power of the Urbe Aeterna.

"If you value your life, Tom, you're not gonna utter the D.B. word in front of HIM".

"HIM? Are we meeting the band HIM down here?"

"No, not the band HIM. F*cking glam metal. I meant HIM!"

"Yeah, HIM, the guitar player is Tony Iommi's son in law..."

"I know that, you crazy woodcutter from Yukon. But this is Rome, buddy. Think: The Borgias!"

And so, in the dim light, we came to a place where a simple throne of stone had been built. And on that throne, the Big Guy himself. The Pope that walks the walk and talks the talk. "Badass" Francis the First.

"This is the only place we can talk quietly" said Francesco.

The Pope turned out the be all they say about him, and even more.

Citing Beethoven and Mozart as his favourite composers, Big Guy Francesco is also at ease discussing early Sepultura: "Those Cavalera brothers, they always remind me of the Prodigal Son parable! I love Roots, by the way".

Tom had to pick up his jaw from the floor, but we tried to play it cool.

So you're not averse to Neil Peart's famously agnostic lyrics?

"There's a quest in there. If he is trying to find a meaning to life, who am I to judge him?"

What was your take on the Watchmaker charachter in Clockwork Angels?

"Oh, it just goes back to Isaac Newton and Descartes, doesn't it? If there's a watchmaker in the world today is hardly God: it's corporate business. Banks. Companies. They are the watchmaker. That's the way I read CA, which is awesome by the way".

And what do you think of Vapor Trails Remixed?

"It has given me so much strenght. It's their most spiritual album. Truly, it makes my soul soar. When the Remix came out, it was like a gift from God, truly. We've been getting them a lot, lately. Ayreon's new album is another".

And that's when Tom had to play jackass and tell the Pope about Goober's reaction to VTR, and the infamous "polished turd" words surfaced once again in the Holy Underground.

"He didn't say that" went Francis. In a split second, you could see why this guy used to intimidate street thugs back in Buenos Aires. His face turned to molten steel.

"I'm afraid he did, Sir" was all I could say.

"Let us pray" He said.

For what seemed like a dark eternity, we stood in silence. I tried to find shelter singing "The Garden" to myself, while Tom kept on making the worst impression of himself trying to make a "selfie" with the background of the Catacombs.

"This is were we part ways, brothers" finally said the Big Guy. "Trust in God to find a way. As for me, I know what I will say tomorrow!".

 

So finally we went out a rimirar le stelle, like Dante goes. Contrary to my advice, Tom treated himself with a triple dose of code alla vaccinara and passed out, all his blood converging to digestion functions. I barely woke him up in time for Sunday mass.

And that's what happened before the now infamous "Rush Speech" in Rome. How will it go down in History? How will it change the world? How will it affect RushGoober's fate? Now, this is a guy who could piss of THE POPE, for saying it out loud. Whose patience are you gonna try next, Goober? Ghandi? Buddah? Lord Jesus himself? Just one word of advice, Gary: don't pick on Shiva! That guy's got the third eye beam thing. I mean, you're playing with fire there.

[H. P. L.]

Not long after that, I found myself entagled in both the Vatican's black secrets and this community's idiosincrasies, like Lorraine's troubles to get to Rome. But it all turned out well in the end because I got to hang out with Francis.

 

The devil has been hard at work here in the Eternal City .

Here is a dialogue that went on between Sister Rosalia and me the other day:

«She’s a turncoat! She’s a banderuola! She wouldn’t come to Rome because of that wretched Michael Jackson doll and now she’s left it behind like nothing and is going to Canada! And now all they talk about is hot tubs!!».

Sister Rosalia grabbed one of the seven broadswords by her desk and DANG! on my head.

(insert you best death metal growl here).

DANG! Another.

«Heck, Sister! Why do you beat me?».

«I’m not beating you. I’m beating the devil».

Just like that, Sister Rosalia used the favourite phrase of one of Italy’s most beloved Saints, Filippo “The Good” Neri, bringing me back to my senses. What did I just say! Blaming a fellow Rush fan! How will she ever forgive me?

«Now go back to your cell room and pray».

That’s right: I’m occupying the room cell meant for Lorraine, at the Monastery of The Sisters of Mercy of The Blessed Virgin of the Seven Great Pains. It felt the right thing to do, to bring a kind of closure to this thing, whatever it is. So here I am, neglecting job, family, friends, on a spiritual journey I felt I didn't need. But as man is so easily played for a fool by the Enemy, turned out I was oh so wrong.

 

Just the other night, Sister Rosalia came to wake me from deep sleep meditation: «Got a surprise for you!».

And what do you know, I was allowed to meet again Francesco "Big Guy" Bergoglio!

And not only meet him, but join him in one of his night patrols.

 

You read it right: just these days it has slipped to the Italian media that Francis is so badass that he goes on night secret missions, Batman-style, to help the poor and the powerless. Pope by day and Justicer by night, Francis prowls the streets of Rome with a couple of trusted guards, an accountant and, for this time only, your humble reporter, giving money and comfort to bums and relicts.

 

The thing the media doesn't know, is that Francesco has a Rush mix tape on the car for these missions! A playlist that comprises One Little Victory, Secret Touch, Far Cry, Out of the Cradle, Nocturne, Working Them Angels, Headlong Flight, Seven Cities of Gold, Caravan and The Garden. Apparently the Pope is all about NEW Rush.

«Living in the past is the work of the devil!» said to me Big Guy, from the passenger seat, as if reading my thoughts.

Even weirder is the fact that, interspected between songs, is the Batman 60s tv theme, and more than once I caught the Pope himself nodding "Nananananananaaaa..." during our night cruise in the dark cobbled streets of the City of Power.

 

Francis is not the first one to do so. Back in the XVII century, at the time of Filippo Neri, Pope Sisto V, the one who built the actual Cathedral of Saint Peter, a dark and strong figure who went by the nickname "The one that won't forgive even Jesus Christ", used to wonder these same streets camouflaged as a Friar, just to hear what the people were saying and what they thought about him.

 

But Francis is all about charity. He never showed himself, hidden in the car, and sent the accountant to give 50, 100 euros to the barboni we met. It's stark winter here, the night is cold and unforgiving. But with Francis patrolling the streets, and One Little Victory in the background, even this razor-sharp hopelessness was somehow tamed. A sense of something bigger awoke inside me. The petty revenges, putting the blame on others, the dismal Thistle Dew, the horrors of Neverland Ranch, all melted away in a warm wave of love. The only sting that remained was the thought of Goober calling VTR a polished turd.

«And about that guy, you know, the Goober...» said the Pope to me, when they brought me back.

«Yes, your grace?».

«I have a phone call with Rob Ford scheduled for monday morning».

And just like that the Batmobile car screeeched off, leaving your humble reporter in even greater awe.

«Wha... you have...?».

Great figures walk the earth again. Sir Isaac Newton used to say that we can see so far because we are standing on the shoulder of giants, but of one thing I am sure: the other night I walked (figuratively speaking) with a giant.

 

And for now your humble reporter from Rome signs off, begging charity for himself and his wicked thoughts, asking forgiveness to Lorraine, Tom and Substance for daring to pass judgement. Never again!

 

SLAM! The room cell door closes.

[H. P. L.]

By the time Lorraine got to Rome, it was clear that the Goober entity was more that we had assumed...

 

Rome, december 4th

 

I watched the video of the YBGrinders5 on my tablet while waiting for the girls' plane to land. The fierce performance of this band brought me back in time, when I was an angry young kid travelling through the 80s, powered only by the sacred gospel of Prog, facing menacing musical figures that would drive my peers crazy such as Madonna, Spandau Ballet and Duran Duran, armed only with the sacred sword of truth and Robert Fripp's facial hair.

 

And sword is not a word I use lightly, ever since trespassing the Monastery of The Sisters of Mercy of The Blessed Virgin of the Seven Great Pains. Every morning I pass by the ginormous statue of Mary with seven swords cutting through her heart, only to meet Sister Rosalia and face her wrath inquisitive stare, her tiny hand always tentatively reaching for one of the seven broadswords she keeps by her desk.

 

But my life ain't ever been easy, so I don't complain. I felt I was a man who could face everything that life was gonna throw at him, until at least that wretched plane landed.

 

The one thing I must say, is that Lorraine is so smoking hot!! I mean, she's a house on fire! How could Substance share a room with her, even in the dismal Thistle Dew, and not go crazy?? Now I understand all the gloominess transparing through his reports. He was trying to keep his hormones in check! I mean, whaaaa! Just whaaa!!! Add to this the presence of the other SIX dancers and it's enough to drive every eterosexual italian red blooded male over the edge.

 

But since I'm not just an eterosexual italian red blooded male, but also a Rush fan, I kept my cool (on the outside) and tried to find a minivan to get us all to the centre of the Caput Mundi. The driver of the minivan (don't ask me to drive in Rome, you have to be born here to do that) was NOT a Rush fan, so he went blitzkrieg crazy. He kept looking the rear view mirror to check out Robin's decolletè, while at the same time pushing the pedal like he was squeezing a dead rat. We made it through the GRA (Gran Raccordo Anulare), the circular circuit that circles the City, still alive. When we arrived at the Monastery, the driver was all dottò this and dottò that, dottò being the abbreviation of "doctor", the way Romans call the foreigners. Strange guys.

 

Sister Rosalia met us all very friendly and was particulary maternal with the Dancers. She insisted they take some well deserved rest and lead them to their cells rooms.

Which left me, alone, to escort Lorraine through one of the most romantic cities in the world. I could feel her beauty calling out to me louder than the singer from Nightwish. But me, being the piece of stone I am, was ever the perfect gentleman.

 

As we strolled through Testaccio, one of the most famous neighbourhoods of Rome, immortaly depicted in the life-changing novel "The Story" by Elsa Morante, Lorraine couldn't help but notice that the Eternal City is by all means eternal but not necessairly clean. Dog poop was everywhere on the sidewalks.

I, as an Italian, am very aware of this really annoying habit of my people, but it seems we will never see the end of this.

But neither I expected to see a very curious man, dressed all in black, black coat, black hat, kneeling over a byproduct of doggie digestion - with no dog of his own! - rub it with a brush and keenly moving over to another.

Lorraine, ever the no-nonsense North-American, addressed him with harsh words. What was he doing? At least he could pick it up, instead of just, what, polishing it with a brush?

«That's what I do, ma'am» replied the man.

«What?» said Lorraine.

«What?» said I.

«My name is Rugantino Frategiovanni. And I'm a turd polisher!».