Lorraine Posted March 8, 2015 Share Posted March 8, 2015 Sometimes the gifs work for me, but most of the time they do not. Once that one animated for me. I think it has something to do with my flash drive and the web accelerator (ha!) we use. 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Janie Posted March 8, 2015 Share Posted March 8, 2015 Apart from LIX balls, malk and soup, I have NO idea what the other inside jokes are. 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
sullysue Posted March 8, 2015 Share Posted March 8, 2015 There is the ultra inside joke of LIX's smelly hands. :) http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae62/Sullysue67/whaaaat_zps2d795db9.jpg 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Your_Lion Posted March 8, 2015 Share Posted March 8, 2015 Would the fact that I only post when I'm naked be considered an inside joke?It depends how cold it is 2 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
lerxt1990 Posted March 9, 2015 Share Posted March 9, 2015 http://popdose.com/wp-content/uploads/bryan-adams1.jpg 2 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
JohnRogers Posted March 9, 2015 Share Posted March 9, 2015 So what is the "soup" aboot? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lost In Xanadu Posted March 9, 2015 Author Share Posted March 9, 2015 Another one is having to buy metaldad a 6 pack to become a member here 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
lerxt1990 Posted March 9, 2015 Share Posted March 9, 2015 http://stream1.gifsoup.com/view2/1958456/bryan-adams-o.gif 3 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
x1yyz Posted March 9, 2015 Share Posted March 9, 2015 So what is the "soup" aboot? Why do you always write "aboot"? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
H. P. L. Posted March 9, 2015 Share Posted March 9, 2015 The strange association between the word "melodic" and the year after 1976 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lorraine Posted March 9, 2015 Share Posted March 9, 2015 The time Zumbi said to Chris Squire's wife in chat: "Why isn't your husband as good a bass player as Geddy?" :laughing guy: :laughing guy: :laughing guy: 6 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tombstone Mountain Posted March 9, 2015 Share Posted March 9, 2015 Pope Francis is a Rush fan HPL is quite right: Tombstone Mountain, on 24 November 2013 - 06:50 PM, said: The Yukon Blade GrinderGoing Papal Edition11.24.13Vatican 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. 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tombstone Mountain Posted March 9, 2015 Share Posted March 9, 2015 (edited) Pope Francis is a Rush fan HPL is quite right: Tombstone Mountain, on 24 November 2013 - 06:50 PM, said: The Yukon Blade GrinderGoing Papal Edition11.24.13Vatican 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. And to top it all off--TM Tombstone Mountain, on 21 December 2013 - 04:32 PM, said: 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 FordA 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! Edited March 9, 2015 by Tombstone Mountain 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
x1yyz Posted March 9, 2015 Share Posted March 9, 2015 Pope Francis is a Rush fan HPL is quite right: Tombstone Mountain, on 24 November 2013 - 06:50 PM, said: The Yukon Blade GrinderGoing Papal Edition11.24.13Vatican City The Pope continued, “... Embrace Vapor Trails. Your soul depends on it!” As the official Vapor Trails ambassador I have to say, Hail Pope Francis! 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
snowdogged Posted March 9, 2015 Share Posted March 9, 2015 (edited) Pope Francis is a Rush fan HPL is quite right: Tombstone Mountain, on 24 November 2013 - 06:50 PM, said: The Yukon Blade GrinderGoing Papal Edition11.24.13Vatican 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. And to top it all off--TM Tombstone Mountain, on 21 December 2013 - 04:32 PM, said: 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 FordA 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! Canada is such a beautiful city to live in. Edited March 10, 2015 by snowdogged 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
laughedatbytime Posted March 10, 2015 Share Posted March 10, 2015 People who insist that Permanent Waves is an 80s album. 2 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
lerxt1990 Posted March 10, 2015 Share Posted March 10, 2015 3 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
laughedatbytime Posted March 10, 2015 Share Posted March 10, 2015 Summer of 69? Now there's an 80s tune for you... 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
greyfriar Posted March 10, 2015 Share Posted March 10, 2015 Sheldon's goat. 6 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
JohnRogers Posted March 10, 2015 Share Posted March 10, 2015 So what is the "soup" aboot? Why do you always write "aboot"?To express solidarity with my Canadian neighbors and show respect to my favorite band. 3 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted March 10, 2015 Share Posted March 10, 2015 The strange association between the word "melodic" and the year after 1976...and something about Geddy's bass tone? 2 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted March 10, 2015 Share Posted March 10, 2015 Misogynist. 3 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
laughedatbytime Posted March 10, 2015 Share Posted March 10, 2015 So what is the "soup" aboot? Why do you always write "aboot"?To express solidarity with my Canadian neighbors and show respect to my favorite band.If you wanted to honour Rush, shouldn't you include "u"s in "neighbours" and "favourite" as well? 3 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
JohnRogers Posted March 10, 2015 Share Posted March 10, 2015 probably Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Rod in Toronto Posted March 10, 2015 Share Posted March 10, 2015 RUSHHEAD666´s endless well of topics is cool too. Earl goes wild on Music of the Spheres. 4 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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