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

My Friend, My Friend... Lover? A Tour Synopsis

Zebastian found a time machine somewhere in Belgium.


Where to go with this TIME MACHINE? This was the first question we asked ourselves. Courtney Love's shower circa 1997? The emergency room immediately following the Richard Gere gerbil incident? Woodstock? Altamont?

Actually, there wasn't any debate at all. We promptly set the device to stop at each day of the greatest month in the history of rock 'n' roll, and perhaps the history of all mankind. I'm talking about the My friend, my friend... Lover? Tour of course.

Come along... Relive it with us:

My Friend, My Friend… Lover?- In which Zachary is bound, gagged, and cooked with a recyclable kitchen standby, yet we still manage to begin the tour. Thousands rejoice, thousands more enlist their daughters in after school self-defense classes.



Air Force Fun Mixes Metaphors, Sets Sail- In which we meet a few important cast members for the tour, and the York Fibber's club receives an intimate tour of Nathaniel's most important cast member.

Little Sausage is Well Prepared- In which Little Sausage proves his worth; breaks arms. Liverpool is frightened.

Glasgow Kisses, Birmingham Ghosts- In which Scottish facial hair is studied and ultimately eaten. Also, Birmingham takes us six feet under.

More Facial Hair in Leeds- In which our dear friends Alan and Laura bless our upper lips, enabling mustaches en masse.


Cardiff Report Coming Shortly...- In which the Cardiff report is hesitant to exit my brain for fear of being upstaged by a strange Glaswegian.

Let The River Run...- In which Carly Simon squeezes our mind grapes to the point of insanity, and we are unsure if Cardiff, Manchester, and Nottingham actually exist, or if they are merely chubby drops of mind ether sprinkled upon us from the legendary vocalist. Also, we drink a lot of cough syrup.

Bristol Beecham's Fuck You; Brutality in London- In which we continue our journey to the outer reaches of reality on the back of Beecham's All-In-One cough syrup. It is a healthy steed. There might be a show on a boat in Bristol. There is definitely raping and pillaging in London.



The Blood Arm: Outsider Competitor With Only A Little Chance Of Win -OR- We'll Slay Our 70 Virgins Now, Thank You- In which we land in Tourcing, France, and Little Sausage passes gas. Also, Zebastian instructs the masses how to properly light a TBA show.

Caen Can- In which the French city attempts to kill us via delicious pastries and cakes, and Zebastian's lighting instruction pays off.

Zachary Dreams of Lyon, Stuttgart, Cologne- In which it becomes apparent that our adventures are not a product of Carly Simon and cough syrup at all, but rather of our drummer's infinite appetite for sleep. Lyon, Stuttgart, and Köln are wined, dined, then amorously taken in the missionary position so we can look them in the eyes while we do it.


HasselON, Germany! -OR- Heaven Is A Place In Münster, Frankfurt and München- In which we learn that David Hasselhoff really is incredibly popular in Germany. Also, we get high.

Berlin, Hamburg, Bremen: The German Sexcapade Continues- In which Ian (our Tour Manager) flaunts his ability to conjure hot girls, we are accosted by a gnome and a freaky blue dude, I wet my trousers, and we all assume new identities.


Hannover... Ghent... aaaaand Weeeee're Spent!- In which Germany and Belgium erase their borders and join together in connubial embrace. Flerman—a German-Flemmish hybrid—is adopted as the new country's tongue. David Hasselhoff is elected King.

Now I must go back... to the future!

I love you all,

Ben Lee Handler

Oh yes, just because the tour is over, it doesn't mean that there won't be regular updates to this page. KIT! (KIT = 'Keep In Touch' in American.)

A Brief Synopsis of Our Latest UK Tour

We have just lustily toured the fuck out of the UK. Below is a brief summary. To read more about any of the selections, simply click on its heading and you will be routed directly to the honeypot of your choosing.

World Class Travelers - In which we drink, fly to London, and a small creature that only Nathaniel can see tears up the wing of our plane. In London, we ae acquainted with Tour Manager Chalkie.

Nottingham, Glasgow - In which we revert to the days of black and white, then later, grainy color in Nottingham, and are molested by Graham of the Flying Matchstick Men in Glasgow.

Liverpudly and Leedsian Love Affairs - In which Crazy Pete from Stealer lives up to his moniker and we fall in love with the Grates all over again in Leeds. Also, Dyan gives us a tour of the Korova bar.

Middlesbrough, Sweaty Men - In which my Semitic livelihood is threatened by a large skinhead.

London Calling; We, Coming - In which we pick up a straggler, hang out with famous people, and things get a little mixed up. Like our sexuality. And our minds.

England Wins! Also, Stoke - In which Tour Manager Chalkie's true priorities are revealed, and we witness some Emoks in their natural habitat.

Manchester Roadhouse; Federline, Yo - In which we learn a little more about Zachary's mysterious past, and the Blood Arm play their greatest show ever.

Milkshake Mix in London; More Crazy Pete - In which Dyan is tortured savagely by Zebastian and Zachary while I eat lunch with my fancy friends. Also, video of Crazy Pete acting something other than sane.

White Heat is White Hot - In which London's premier nightclub sticks ice down our pants, gives us a wedgie, then makes love to us like an untamed beast (AKA doggie-style). It's hot. Also, celebrity guests.

Drowning in the Sound of the Grates - In which the Grates blow up balloons with their name printed in bold letters on the front, and we jealously pop them. They cry a little bit, we take pity and blow up more ballons for them. Even more than before. Our last show of the tour. Also, I get a side job. Later, a hand one.