Well, it's been a long and difficult battle fought more in the realms of intrigue and espionage than with bombs and firearms, but Fakiegrind Central has finally been secured from the various and underhanded assaults of the Endtime Adjuster. The tides of fortune changed for us at the last possible moment when it appeared that our tiny bastion of free speech and 80's nostalgia was about to fall into the hands of apocalyptic fear mongers and their Endtime Insurance Schemes.
Early this morning, whilst the flaming spumes of the steelworks tinged the horizon's clouds in a flickering orange glow, The Adjuster rallied his army of un-skaterly minded Midnight Shopping Zombies and launched a concentrated Junk Mail Barrage on our unassuming, North End domicile. It looked for a moment as though our substantial Hype-Dampening Force Fields were about to crumble under the relentless hammering of amplified Prime-Time Plasma Servos, when Agent Rocksteady had a Transpersonal Primal 80's Regression.
In a brief but monumentous moment, Rocksteady fell into a Temporal Rift and re-lived the entire cultural content of the peak years of the Lost Golden Age (1984-7); the time before the Great Prophet, Michael Jackson, was abducted by an Interplanetary Conglomerate of Muzak Investors, and replaced by a malfunctioning Cyber-doppleganger Legacy Destructor Unit 5000.
When Rocksteady awoke from his momentary swoon he had the slightly crazed but commanding look in his eye of One Who Has Seen Too Deeply into Eight is Enough and A-Team Re-runs. He calmly instructed those Fakie Agents still left standing to reverse the drive belts in the Wheels of Steeltown soundsystem, and to play the great Endtime Metal Epic, Master of Puppets backwards at increased, 45 speed. This we promptly did, cranking the output dials full into the Red Zone.
From the first bars of the inverted version of Battery, the Adjuster's forces showed marked alarm at the new turn of events. Clearly they hadn't reckoned on coming up against such sonic resistance, and had left their Ear Plugs Against all Truth in Music at home. By the end of The Thing that Should Not Be the Endtime ranks showed signs that their moral had been seriously compromised, and the grand finale of Damadge Inc. played backwards at the increased speed was enough to send the Adjuster's forces fleeing into oncoming traffic in a mad panic.
Thus did the Fakie Battle to end all Battles come to pass with Metallica saving the day, once again. The Endtime Adjuster, realizing his defeat, emitted a tormented scream before his rocket pack malfunctioned sending him spiraling out of control into the flaming, molten metal-filled crucible of a nearby steelmill. A follow up investigation suggests he has been turned into ingots and is currently being shipped to Brazil as raw material for a new sports stadium somewhere in the Amazon basin.
Our Anti-Spam Scrambling Field took a serious beating in the battle, but Fakie technicians are currently working around the clock to get the system up and running in an improved, amplified form that should protect the entire Greater North End from Media Saturation Campaigns of all varieties. We're hoping to patent the software and offer our system to other Cultural Intelligence Agencies on the free market. The outlandish profits we anticipate to generate with this venture will be used to refurbish the Wheels of Steeltown Soundsystem, hopefully upgrading to Two-and-a-half Turntables and One-and-three-quarters Microphones, among other projects.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
Put me down for fiddy tanks.
That's an inside joke that only Roboshrub will understand. I expect him to view this comment in ten hours.
"Comment board as dropzone for coded secret communication of the Lower Frozen Blogosphere", cool.
This comment will self-destruct in 10 000 episodes of Family Guy.
It couldn't have been done without Rock-Steady's penchant for Shammanistic Transport to the Realm of the Ancestors, and the dimension-sundering guitar playing of Kirk Hammett; as well as recent events in the Lower Frozen Blogosphere, which seem to have set about the proper quantum probabilities for the re-establishment of Fakie Central Command in the macro-reality of Steeltown. Thanks also to the legions of clandestine Fakie readers who have kept the blog alive through their nightly prayers and daily sacrifices of live avacadoes on Holy Waffle-Irons of Transubstantiation.
Stay old!
U.S. blog readers Chant "four more years! four more years!"
U.S. politcs: always baffling to this Canuck blogster. Prolonged media-fasting doesnt' help the situation. "Four more years! Four more years!" is akin the cries of anguish I would emit regularly in grade nine of high school.
Post a Comment