Anders Gives Our Recent Tour A Harsh Review
What's that Anders? You have magic binoculars that allow you see the whole of history as if it were right in front of you?
Yes Ben Lee. Yes I do. And yes they can. I can see that you and your friends have been busy of late.
Well, I mean, we just got back from the SECOND HELPING DESIRED, REQUIRED 2007 UK and European Tour. It was five weeks long. A lot of stuff happens on the road.
I can see that. And I must say I find your behavior downright repulsive. ALL of your behavior.
Oh, come now. The Blood Arm, we're grown adults. We're allowed to do some things and say some things that kids your age just plain aren't. Like snort goofballs and say 'shit' and 'damn.' Them's the brokes.
I understand this, but your recent activities would shame a person of average moral constitution into confession for thirty years. Shame--have you none? Do I have to detail your offenses for you?
I dare you to. I bet you can't name three.
Here are dozens. Heaven forbid what I'd have found had I REALLY looked:
Dyan Writes From London - In which the piano player exposes her bare arms and ankles for the world to see, tempting married men all over the globe to reconsider their vows of faithfulness and monogamy.
Intentional Accidentalism; Glastonbury, Southside Festival
- In which you reduce the masses at Glastonbury and the Southside Festivals to quivering blobs of Jello, then use the Jello as lubrication with which you forcefully violate the Euro Tunnel.
How We Roll: The Hurricane Festival - In which you sully the sacred name of Eddie Vedder with the flowers of a thousand German virgins.
We saw the Brementown Musicians and... - In which you photograph a ghostly Zebastian with spunk in his eye.
Innsbruck is Alive with the Sound of the Blood Arm... - In which you repeatedly douse the lovely Weekender Club with golden showers in the name of the Rolling Stones.
Some Festival Pics... - In which you vainly encourage the Internets to look at you, you, you.
Hard Up in Gay Paris - In which you glorify the desecration of the most beloved Disney character and wholeheartedly endorse necrophilia in public places.
The State of Our Hearts is IN LOVE with Wiesen - In which you bowl without using balls or pins and fornicate in large groups without mind or heart.
Our Sovereign State of Love - In which you manipulate the Abart and Hafenkneipe clubs into believing that the baby ISN'T yours, thereby allowing your hellspawn to continue to parisitically suck the years off their lives.
Paris is Sexy and Underage - In which Paris tells you she's sixteen, but you swear she's twenty-three and thrust yourselves upon her like a pack of starving wolves.
Les Ardentes Festival, Weinheim Party - In which you treat children's toys as if they were made for adults, forever tainting their structural integrity and youthful innocence.
Every Day is the Greatest Day Ever - In which you talk up your extravagant lifestyle so high that everyone's else's seem little by comparison. I mean really, jet skiing?
Bastille Day on Fire, London on Fire, The Blood Arm on Fire - In which you slaughter the sanctity of childbirth by celebrating Dyan's exit from the womb a full day before its actual anniversary.
A Thunderstorm of AWESOME - In which you ride on the coattails of MUSE into a huge sold-out arena and attempt to play Prometheus to their Zeus.
Obstwiesen Festival is Possessed by Devil, Wholly Embraces The Blood Arm - In which you accept the sweetest affection from the beast solely responsible for every last drop of human suffering.
Art Sonic Festival = Buckwild - In which your Zachary offends everyone who has worn clothes EVER.
How We Roll: The Death Star - In which you make a belated stab at giving credit to perhaps the most important member of your entourage, further drawing attention to your earlier negligence.
Shall I continue? I mean, your base vulgarity physically hurts me... tell me you don't see it!
Okay Anders, point taken. Why don't you forget about this for a while and let me buy you some ice cream?
Eat with you? You make me ill! I'd be surprised if the cream didn't curdle and sour as soon as you approached! You are cholera! The plague! A human stain!
Let's calm down a little. Take a deep breath. Think some happy thoughts. Say, why don't you focus those magic binoculars on something happy?
...............
Anders?
...............
Anders?
Quiet please, I am trying to heed your advice.
Well, what are you looking at, then?
THE END
Yes Ben Lee. Yes I do. And yes they can. I can see that you and your friends have been busy of late.
Well, I mean, we just got back from the SECOND HELPING DESIRED, REQUIRED 2007 UK and European Tour. It was five weeks long. A lot of stuff happens on the road.
I can see that. And I must say I find your behavior downright repulsive. ALL of your behavior.
Oh, come now. The Blood Arm, we're grown adults. We're allowed to do some things and say some things that kids your age just plain aren't. Like snort goofballs and say 'shit' and 'damn.' Them's the brokes.
I understand this, but your recent activities would shame a person of average moral constitution into confession for thirty years. Shame--have you none? Do I have to detail your offenses for you?
I dare you to. I bet you can't name three.
Here are dozens. Heaven forbid what I'd have found had I REALLY looked:
Dyan Writes From London - In which the piano player exposes her bare arms and ankles for the world to see, tempting married men all over the globe to reconsider their vows of faithfulness and monogamy.
Intentional Accidentalism; Glastonbury, Southside Festival
- In which you reduce the masses at Glastonbury and the Southside Festivals to quivering blobs of Jello, then use the Jello as lubrication with which you forcefully violate the Euro Tunnel.
How We Roll: The Hurricane Festival - In which you sully the sacred name of Eddie Vedder with the flowers of a thousand German virgins.
We saw the Brementown Musicians and... - In which you photograph a ghostly Zebastian with spunk in his eye.
Innsbruck is Alive with the Sound of the Blood Arm... - In which you repeatedly douse the lovely Weekender Club with golden showers in the name of the Rolling Stones.
Some Festival Pics... - In which you vainly encourage the Internets to look at you, you, you.
Hard Up in Gay Paris - In which you glorify the desecration of the most beloved Disney character and wholeheartedly endorse necrophilia in public places.
The State of Our Hearts is IN LOVE with Wiesen - In which you bowl without using balls or pins and fornicate in large groups without mind or heart.
Our Sovereign State of Love - In which you manipulate the Abart and Hafenkneipe clubs into believing that the baby ISN'T yours, thereby allowing your hellspawn to continue to parisitically suck the years off their lives.
Paris is Sexy and Underage - In which Paris tells you she's sixteen, but you swear she's twenty-three and thrust yourselves upon her like a pack of starving wolves.
Les Ardentes Festival, Weinheim Party - In which you treat children's toys as if they were made for adults, forever tainting their structural integrity and youthful innocence.
Every Day is the Greatest Day Ever - In which you talk up your extravagant lifestyle so high that everyone's else's seem little by comparison. I mean really, jet skiing?
Bastille Day on Fire, London on Fire, The Blood Arm on Fire - In which you slaughter the sanctity of childbirth by celebrating Dyan's exit from the womb a full day before its actual anniversary.
A Thunderstorm of AWESOME - In which you ride on the coattails of MUSE into a huge sold-out arena and attempt to play Prometheus to their Zeus.
Obstwiesen Festival is Possessed by Devil, Wholly Embraces The Blood Arm - In which you accept the sweetest affection from the beast solely responsible for every last drop of human suffering.
Art Sonic Festival = Buckwild - In which your Zachary offends everyone who has worn clothes EVER.
How We Roll: The Death Star - In which you make a belated stab at giving credit to perhaps the most important member of your entourage, further drawing attention to your earlier negligence.
Shall I continue? I mean, your base vulgarity physically hurts me... tell me you don't see it!
Okay Anders, point taken. Why don't you forget about this for a while and let me buy you some ice cream?
Eat with you? You make me ill! I'd be surprised if the cream didn't curdle and sour as soon as you approached! You are cholera! The plague! A human stain!
Let's calm down a little. Take a deep breath. Think some happy thoughts. Say, why don't you focus those magic binoculars on something happy?
...............
Anders?
...............
Anders?
Quiet please, I am trying to heed your advice.
Well, what are you looking at, then?
THE END
Labels: Anders, REQUIRED, SECOND HELPING DESIRED, Tour Synopsis
posted by BLOOD AMBITION 2008 at 12:22 AM
1 Comments:
Hey Ben Lee,
You should add the "Ukulélé Session" to all those amazing things you made!
http://www.lesoir.be/video/?action=popup&v=20070726_bloodarm
Best,
Emilie
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