OK, what about the fuckoff cyclone about to bear down on the other side of Mexico - (the other side from the major gathering of whitefolk in Texas, New Orleans etc, it's not news...)
So, the show. Lenny on ace of spades. Mick Dog on bums. Vinnie on buttons and DB on the tin lid. The Show With No Name throttled out of the Clunes O'Brien Memorial studios just before the shit went down on Wall Street and beamed it around Western Victoria (or as far as Mr Poon's shop, we're not sure) and it sounded like this:
Consider the American election as only some miscellaneous fellas from a room somewhere on a hill in Ballarat could: as a Looney Tunes production of mammoth proportions entwining Bruce Springsteen, Diana Ross, My Ding a Ling and that moment in rock few have spoken about: the Obama-lama with Clarence Clemmons.
Music news: Robery Hairy Palmer's comeback foiled by a random beating of the Skaggs brothers by Rastafarian sausages; our favourite World War 2 Greek pastry films and Westerns, such as the Magnificent Souvlaki; and the perennial ecceliastical cryptic crossword clue develops into a discussion of Popes in catalogues and the good old days, when Jesus would run out onto the ground at the MCG and take his place at full forward... Ahh. Kevin Bartlett. What a bloke.
And part 2 of this week's radio squirt:
The second part of the second week of October, when the TV guide beckoned and all that was found was the Ballarat Steak House bringing out a film, following the huge success of their ad*. Eric Bana in a Gold Rush alligator romantic restaurant comedy. And the horror of an ad found in the Courier. Nevermind Henson in the primary school, what about the Search for a Super Moodel, where slutty cows were made to do not normal things before the shooting and Supertramp. And then it gets weird.
Then, the economic hard talk - the battle against daylight saving - who is pocketing the difference? Is this where the world's finances have gone wrong? And finally - Ballarat teenagers again forced onto cultural slavery, doning their strange panted costumes and press-ganged into a performance of Bolshoi, Bolshoi, Bolshoi - seen by all as complete and utter bolshoi.
As for music? Somehow, the Circle Jerks off the Repo Man soundtrack are getting dusted off.
in a sluggish economyAh yes. Leading one to knock out Fugazi's Merchandise quite a bit more again these days. Bless the punks and the hardcore, for they truly did keep the faith...
hits the land of the free
standing in unemployment lines
blame the government for hard time
we just get by
however we can
we all gotta duck
when the shit hits the fan
When we have nothing left to giveAnyhoo - thanks to everyone who tuned in via the ancient signal transmitter nailed to Warrenheip from 6 till 8 Tuesdays, 99.9FM!
There'll be no reason for us to live
But when we have nothing left to lose
You will have nothing left to use
We owe you nothing
You have no control
*You can actually hear the screams from outside people's houses when this comes on.