Banda Bassotti

I love it when south americans sing "El Pueblo".

I've poured entirely too much emotion into that continent. But what do you expect? For fuck's sake, it's called "Latin America". What do you do with that? Well if you're Banda Bassotti, you perform a punk rock version of the Chilean socialist anthem. Music is a good way of dissolving pointless pity. Hey, if I had Cortez blood in me, combined with Incan empathy (oh Jesus, here I go with the grotesque caricatures, oh forgive me, I haven't had my ayahausca therapy, but fuck that, I'm not going to be a chemical monotheist either, there's plural paths, it isn't all shamanism) I'd rage against any available capitalist. Hey, I'm doing that now, except there's always that instinct in me that shies away from biting the hand that feeds me. Hey, it may be peanuts in this ridiculous bling context, but to someone, it's a fortune.

Brothers, sisters... Can't we agree, Chavez fills our hearts with joy? I really hope he doesn't have to get shot. Because that's kind of his shtick. Staying alive. The rascal. Not that I'm considering moving to Venezuela. I kind of like my Canadian citizenship. And the Royal hasn't run out of lines yet. Although, you know, eventually, we're gonna need something worth fighting for. What the fuck am I talking about? Music is good energy. Get your violence out on the mosh pit. That's fine with me. But I really hope we can work out some kind of post-modern revolution. One that doesn't involve urban warfare. With guns and stuff. I got over snuff films years ago. I don't need to see any more blood or brains. Oh here I go, betraying my 20th century delusions. Revolution is so last century. Or is it? Maybe novelty is the great illusion. I dunno, there's a lot of bubbles, and they've gotta pop sometime.

Yeah I know, platitude city. But there are some people who read for the honesty. I appreciate the ears of those people. The eyes. Honestly, I wish I could get deeper into those eyes. And I figure, why not? Isn't it possible? It doesn't have to mean any specific thing. But this particular ground zero is not quite mobile enough, not really extroverted. Although I'm a reciprocal charity case, if that's good enough. Hey - take my cosmic welfare cheque for this month - it's on me. And you know, I'm a good citizen. I'll pay for this postage with foot stamps. Or the drinks are on me. Or I'll hunt some game. Yeah. Tonight we eat well. Jesus Christ where am I going with this? Ample opportunity for interpretation. Nevermind. Party on the glacier - the mysterium, Kootenay style. Be there, or be well. Who wants to be well? What are you, some futurist utopian?! Haha. I spit on your spit!