Wednesday, November 11, 2015


World you have had your evil way and your evil destructive power over this poor shell of a broken man for far too long you have had it since I was an infant BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD WILL BE SPILLED IN WORDS OF MALICE THAT CUT DEEPER THAN A BLADE!
God you are a liar and a fabrication who sent your so-called son to die a horrible death on Calvary and you led Jesus astray and led him to try to bring peace and solace to a sick and violent planet. YOU ARE THE ONE WHO WILL BE DAMNED IN FLAMES FOREVER!!!!!!!!
Mother and father your lying and cheating and degrading and backstabbing will one day lead to an ETERNITY ROTTING AWAY IN HELL!
I have had enough of being nice and if there is no civility from you then I will never speak to you again.
      BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!! 666 IS MY NAME! What leads to this condition? What leads to this state? What is thy name thou who mocketh me in my darkness and shadowy black oily pit of shame with mine legs torn off my body and mine eyes full of tears and thy voice holy brother deserting me?
Shakespeare you may ask after the last part? Heavy metal? Being led off the narrow path?
       I am losing my best friend to cancer. I am having to come to grips and to terms with not just the fact that he will no longer be there to advise and help me through hard bitter periods like he was able to do before he was sick, but that the world will the day he passes away will lose a unique special individual and I DEDICATE EVERY BLOG FROM THIS AND ONWARDS TO HIS MEMORY.
   Bill "Pennies" Pacquin is his name and I have known his entity and person since I were a mere bonny young lad of 14 or 15 years old.  He was my first teacher of the world of obscure and rare music and I was his faithful and loving student. He began as the man who enlightened and inspired me and it wasn't long before we became best friends. Bill is more than just an eccentric and a unique man. He is a gentleman too. I can say that starting in 1992 when I was ready to be his disciple I learned all about him and he showed me so many wondrous bands and artistes and albums like Kak albums like Gandalf albums like July and The Koobas and Stray's early works. These precious memories of him and his turning me onto Kak, turning me on to The Parlour Band, Writing On The Wall will be with me for the rest of my life and my entire time in the afterlife and next world.
  Remembering all the good joyous conversations we had only makes it more painful to be losing him, but makes me feel blessed to have known him. He and I shared and will always share a lot in common, but I can't bear that some day in the near future he will be in the spirit world and I will no longer be able to talk to him and have him to comfort me when times are bad. He always had solutions to problems. A lot better than fake recent friends who tell me to kill my own mother and father when they won't let me buy huge suicide deals worth of usually overrated albums! ZWOUNDS THEY BE THE LEPROUS TONGUES OF DECEIT THAT HAVE ALWAYS WAITED WITH KNIFE IN HAND FOR WHEN MY BACK WAS TURNED!
     I have, although I love my mother and father, come to learn they are selfish and destructive very misguided and materialistic people who lie as much as any of the other shitty enema tubes of fake friends who pretend to be artsy, hip, and classy well bred high educated cultured folk borne of the cradle of intellect and literary fortunes mistakenly lost in the rhymes of music upon the breeze that carries the same song as that of the cooing sweetly intoning morning bird that pretends to be the eagle and the dove when they are but only an old ragged vulture crippling the young and destroying the dreams that spur my soul. I know that both of those forked tongued high society of the literati wannabes will be reading this piece of crafted truth and I know that they may be hurt by mine sharp cutting words and may be bloodied as much as if by sword when I curse them out of my kingdom, but it doesn't change me cursing them out of my kingdom which is an intelligent way of saying get the fuck away from me now I need myself and myself alone without your bullshit! They lie down with swines and fornicate hogs. Until they die my soul will never be free from torment and grief.        
    They bring me much pleasure, but wound my deepest heart with pain and lies. Lies lies and more lies. Never listening to a word I speak. FUCKING SELFISH! 'SBLOOOOOOD! I HATE THEE! GET THEE GONE BACK TO THE REMEDIAL WORLD OF YOUR LOPSIDED UPBRINGING!
        I hate most people. Were I the Lord Of Nature and the Maker Of Man I'd cast thee out of thine loftiness and into a barrel of oil and deep gashes to fill in the candles in thine bodies to light and blow all of thee into molten ashes scattered like seeds of evil doings and wicked horror on the floor of the barn where thee lie with the meager crinkled jellied brains of thine heads and in the bed of conspiracy that thou hast made into the crib that born me into the disgusting place known as Earth. I will rape thee one day by turning mine cheeks and shutting mine heart, eyes, mind, body, soul, and door for you never once more to feast upon my flesh for your supper of blood, gouged out emotions, and fried scrambled attempts of my misguided compassion and love. I banish thee into the ground and cut your tiny minds out of your heads and stuff them down your throats!
    I don't hate all people. Shakespeare was a person. Bruce Dickinson is a person. Children are people. Musicians, poets, and voices of human larks and Nightingales are people. However, know thyself for thou wilst never know the black two sided twin minded face of humankind. People are gathering all over the world in bombed out ditches. They are shivering with fear and being whipped and tortured in prisons all over this shitty nation as convicted felons for the simple fact they are poor and have fallen into the netherworld of gangs, drugs, booze, machismo sculpted to hide the damaged and destroyed hearts of poor children neglected and shunned away from their own mothers and never shown the light of love! I have been in disgusting vile sickening psych wards of foul treachery where murder knows no end and savagery hath no bounds with these kids who are in street gangs and who use drugs and who are destroyed by their parents and kinfolk and tis so sad that it makes mine heart sore with sympathy and longing to help people who put up a wall around them and hardly let anyone see who they truly are. Wounded warriors let me take you from the battle to mine chambers and love thee like the eagle loves the sky. Yes, soldiers fall into that category of destroyed and desecrated. I guess that the good boys are disguised as the bad ones and the bad ones are the ones who are not boys, but fierce minded corrupted men with rotten pigs innards for brains who sit together at tables of treachery sticking their bare and filthy arse into the faces of the innocent and then covering them with their monetary corporate defecation. 'SBLOOOOOOOOOD! SICK! SICK AND EVIL AND DISGUSTING!
       Music be the food of love and life and dreams and hopes and music is the true savior. No religious taunting is food tis more like an ocean of slime that turns fouler the more it strangles and cuts off the air from the skies from the bottom and pits of the earth. I am making a vow and keeping that vow. NO ONE EVER GETS ANYTHING FROM ME AGAIN! No one shall receive a present nor even a mere card for Christmas this year. Christmas? CHRIST MESS! I'm damning the day to a vulgar fate and blackening it with Hell Fire! More aptly I'm somehow celebrating the fact that I've made it through the worst year of my existence. This is the only year in which I have succumbed in blindness to numerous half baked attempts to take my own life. I know I'm smart, but I also know I've failed my entire life. By giving too much thought to other people I've failed myself. From now forward other people will be cast out of my world and back into their fake world of materialism, violence, and treachery. If I could get away with what no one can ever get away with I'd do it. There are other ways of turning on. Put a Coven or Black Widow record on. Do something that makes you feel like you are worthy instead of bringing more demolition to the banquet. I love how Sting is able to create dark and sinuous melodies and soar above them with his haunting voice. I love how TNT at one point were able to create beautiful songs of love, redemption, and hope. Keep that word "Hope" in mind, but don't use it when there is none like how there is none for my best friend.
      I dedicate this epiphany to geniuses Bruce Dickinson, John Keats, William Blake, Lord Byron, and Shakespeare. Jesus Blesses you from the land of animals and peace for there is no God and Christ Mess is a mind made illusion. I will speak to thee anon.
Lord Benjamin.

Monday, November 2, 2015

The Best Christmas Is One With Lots Of Great Records, But Also Must Be One With A Good Heart To Make Hotspur Proud!

I don't know how many of you are familiar with Shakespeare and British history, but the Royal Family whom I really have nothing against and every previous royal family going back before King Henry The Fifth to his father ARE NOT THE TRUE HEIRS TO BRITISH ROYALTY. Read up in King Henry The Fourth (sorry my Roman numerals are so embarrassing I have to avoid them!) and look into Henry Percy better known and known to me exclusively as Hotspur who is my greatest hero in the entire world. He was a Welsh soldier/warrior who was the true heir to the throne along with his family, but Lord "Hotspur" Percy was vanquished in treacherous combat by Prince Hal soon to be the fifth King Henry. He would never be a comfortable person as he fought his past and never could forget it which seems a rather fitting epitaph to England which has been demolished by The Torrie Party conservative Eton boys. I keep Hotspur in my heart and I keep the soldiers who fell in combat by his side and in every battle before and since in my heart. Soldiers are great and the humans who are closest to the earth and the closest to animals in their instinct and what they consider vital. Hotspur shines, but as I've forgotten him too much and strayed too far in the previous two Xmases and they have been disgusting so now the everything-must-be-a-blow-out has become the necessity and just as importantly the loving of my eccentric-as-me family where my mother is by far the most sensible, but sometimes sensible to a fault. I love her and my father, but I'm getting sick of buying records. I'm not thinking of closing the blog or giving up my musical passions, but I am seriously going to throw the unwanted agony of year long monthly nightmares in record stores out the window. Christmas comes with a lot of great and mainly very cheaply priced records from Europe under the tree and then nothing comes again until my birthday. So how did I reach this conclusion? See the blog.
       I'm not comfortable in Amerika, but I struggle to think of where I WOULD BE COMFORTABLE. England has gone into the gutter and pretty much the world has gone all the wrong way and I find it frightening that people do not value things that are actually of value and throw everything good into the wastebasket. Money, money, money and more money is what the world is obsessed with thanks to Amerikan capitalistic rubbish brains who have been running our country into the ground for God knows how long and such things as not treasuring persons and already found possessions can lead to things as nightmarish as the wars and oil spills and corruptions that have become the trademark of the 20th and especially 21st century. Hotspur would vomit if he saw what the world turned into and so would everybody from that time in history. I know what Jesus would think: "My, the world hasn't progressed at all since I was on the hill in Calvary." Just listen to "Jesus Came Down" by Lake and see what the truth is. Lake had a lot of truth in their lyrics and it seems rather unsurprising that the talent and inspiration in German, Dutch, Swiss, Nordic, and British bands is a lot more emphatic than the half assed nonsense of most American bands. Hmm. Funny to think about how I was so closed minded and wary to chance taking back a million years ago. Not funny to think and wonder and not know how to fathom where all those past days and months and huge periods of time went. I have come to a very strong belief that my severely unhappy state of mind that I was bogged down into was very much of my own making. Instead of saving I was gorging like a glutton. Instead of thinking I was just acting. I even one morning a month ago got drunk and I mean piss drunk. It had to end. I went to a record store and spent too much money, but it was a pressure situation and now kind of amazing how well it turned out and yet one more time how I discovered a lot of good in an odd place. Fall outs with fake friend happen, but in the store I hope I found a good one in the wonderful owner who is way younger than me, but very keen on running a friendly and kind business.
       Not all Americans are bad. Generalizations are rubbish and don't even get me on a rant about the whole Israelis and pro Israeli Jews VS Palestinians and Muslims as it to be frank is far too upsetting to once more see the persecuted become the persecutors and the victims become the savage murderers slaying thousands of people every day. Apartheid has come back. Very disgusting to think how people never learn. I think of my relationship with nature and the intellect. It's a good existence when you don't deal with other people and their constantly growing more irritating irritations- I'm a nature worshiper and proud of it as Hotspur and now only his kind, soldiers, can have the closeness to the earth that makes one know there is an awful lot out there most people are completely missing out on. I see people in this country trying to make a difference, but I guess the issue is we don't have enough of them. I wonder what it would feel like to the founding fathers to see how their dream is forgotten and just turned into a boast. Like hearing a bad record where every word and note is cliched and the singing is more like a bunch of drunken losers clamoring for the inevitable roll after roll of toilet paper (Must I be so vulgar!!!!!!?). The more I hear what are supposed to be American classics the more I think we're really about as classic as some of the horrendous outfits I used to wear. Of course I should have sung and dressed like my blond haired brother Michael Kiske in Helloween at that time, but I didn't like Helloween when I was a teenager and before it so I equated sharp clothes with anything I could grab that had loud colours in it and looked like a hippy garment to me. There were more people who wanted to make this country and the world a better place than just myself definitely, but we grew up and I know we're all pretty disgruntled. America doesn't have enough values in fact the so called "values" are scary. Too much emphasis on power mania. I do, however, think that we could if we tried make this country into something it just will take longer and longer the more we procrastinate.
      Helloween are among the perfect examples of the huge amount of love and enthusiasm put into German rock and Dutch bands used often some very idiosyncratic techniques to make brilliant music also. Germany had a lot on its plate when the musicians who made the first musical explosions were born as most were born right after the horrific events of World War 2. As the country had to be rebuilt from ruin so too did the young people have to scorn their elders many of whom openly participated in such evils as Nazi rallies and hate crimes. Also there was the huge amount of tragic war dead who fought under a shroud which makes it even more tragic their good and caring side probably never will be seen by most people. Helloween, Scorpions, Jane, these bands are more about creating a powerful melodic hard sound whilst others go for all out lunacy like Amon Duul II and Faust or more of a quintessentially Teutonic form of symphonic rock. American bands who get and are now getting a lot of praise yodel and moan and grunt and fart. When I heard the first Pearls Before Swine album on ONE NATION UNDERGROUND several days ago I wanted to throw it across the room or break it in half. Sorry, I do not want to hear a failed psychiatrist trying to be hip when he's anything but hip and more of a hillbilly psychiatrist wannabe. That brings to mind Paul Stanley's book FACE THE MUSIC A LIFE EXPOSED which I am reading and getting a lot of joy from. Paul went straight for the Anglo vibes and hated American Yank rock in the 60s and so far his book has quite much of the time had my jaw dropping. This man can write and he can write in some ways even better than he can sing which is saying something as there is only one singer who sounds like Paul Stanley and that is Paul Stanley himself. I laugh, but then I go "Was the counterculture faked? Was it real and just lacked any really substantial music?" The latter is the truth.
     Millions took to the streets to protest the Vietnam war and the horrible violence and corruption, but the musical side of the movement didn't have anybody anywhere close to the few brilliant spokesmen of that era two of whom sadly are now dead. Lou Reed died last year I believe and Frank Zappa died quite a long time ago. We still have Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen, and the most iconic of them all Bob Dylan- a man who has gone really far in making music a perfect expression of well-aimed anger and protest.  Dylan began as a folkboom protest singer and then became an electrified voice of revolution. Lou Reed may have been self centered, but he was really hip and he knew how to write sardonic and clever etchings of tough gritty life. I would at one point have said Zappa was the light hearted one, but he was a protest writer disguised as a satirical comedy rock pioneer. The thing is we did have some bands and not just solo artists who stood up for the cause of the much needed peace and good values and even though we had Jefferson Airplane one airplane ain't an air force and it wasn't long before the American "let's get together and love one another FUCK THE WAR" rock idiom turned out to be THE HOT AIR FORCE! The bands didn't know how to compose songs so naturally German and British and Dutch and Nordic and Swiss bands were gonna do it better than us and the Canadians were a whole lot better than us too. Germany had beat groups aplenty when we had frat groups. Then they had electrifying heavy hard power rock like Lucifer's Friend when we had the previously mentioned drunkard toilet turning into MEGA TOILET!
    Amerika could never get free from patriotic lying and boasting and that has been the death knell of every American band. Nobody breaks out of the industry and if they do you'll be hard up to find a great band who have made more than one great album. Other Americans at Christmas go to Walmart and buy a lot of worthless junk. We have things in our own way and a Mitchner family law is we always go against the grain! My mother has taste. My father has taste. I have taste. We have a lot of good things to live for just the three of us, but it's time for my long lost muse and best friend Hotspur to come back into the picture. On Christmas eve I will return to CHIMES AT MIDNIGHT a movie that includes the genius performance of an American acting genius as Falstaff none other than Orson Welles.
   Everything in this country is made uncomfortable and every experience is made unpleasant. The next time a waitress or waiter gives me the nurse in an emergency room spiel "Hi my name is CINDY AND I'LL BE TAKING CARE OF YOU TONIGHT" I'm getting up and we're getting the fuck out of that worthless restaurant turned hospital. Yes, I want to get away from Amerika. Hotspur would make the whole dinner from scratch, get all fresh ingredients, and once he'd completed making his feast that's when he would finally be able to sit back and relax and think of what sorrowfully never happened- A KINGDOM. My British friends in 1 Rifles are really upset about what their country has turned into and we talk all the time about it. It must be really sad to be a British soldier or any soldier. I think what has always drawn me to soldiers is that we share a very hard life and we could go really far just by being around each other. Hotspur was the ultimate soldier, but he's in Heaven now and unfortunately that is the price of many an ultimate soldier. Of course the days of chain mail and swords have long been replaced by the horrific nuclear threats and the war machines of guns and guns and more guns in Amerika and guts and guts and more fat guts in America and I don't like my fat gut and have every intention of losing it. Hotspur would hate what the world is like now and he'd probably run right back into the time machine and go back to the 15th century.
      There's a lot that needs to change. There's also a lot that can grow. I will be working on the growing part and I will snuggle on the sofa in December by the Christmas tree with my great haul of great music and be comforted once more by my noble Hotspur. Till then keep the love flowing and know more by asking more questions!
I might add that Hotspur has the most clever lines in the plays and is a true artist. Through Shakespear and undoubtedly in real life the man was a painter with words and a fantastic individual. I leave this blog with a very deep thought: if we had Hotspur be king instead of the fake monarchy we may not have the fat beer bellied nightmare known as Amerika. Don't wear bright uniforms in combat seems a good ending, but a better ending is to say Hotspur is going to come down from Heaven after being away too long from my Xmases and my life.