You said something once, Luke, about cracking Pangea. Well, imagine what would be cracked by the unleashing of the potential collective energy contained in this photo. The very fabric of space and time? Dick Cheney's nerve? Hate?
there comes a point at which you have to start pulling whole trees out of the ground, because the sticks can't take it, ten giant redwoods landing on cars and garbage trucks, and giant foot-activated battering rams pocking the sides of meth labs and ocean liners, shit, calling down the thunder itself to strike the biggest satellite dish in the desert because zildjian can't make nothin' big enough man
Yes. YES. Now I'm envisioning the (inevitable) post-apocalyptic future of rock. The Ones depicted in this visual document will mutate into a Voltron-like Mega Rocker, and it will be as though a comet has struck every man-capital of the Earth.
Also, I am assuming that Scott managed to escape unscathed, and I'm assuming that he didn't even notice, but Jerry's gaze clearly threatens to blur him into semi-reality. Perhaps even utter unreality.
i once witnessed the Fuchs staring intently at a chicken wing. with a twitch of his moustache, the air around me hazed and gained a diffuse orange glow... then the chicken wing flew into the atmosphere, reaching a speed far beyond earth's necessary espace velocity. all things airborne clicked and whirred and whined, shifted against their will miles from their set trajectories. next thing i read on the interweb was that jupiter has a new red spot. go look it up. all i can think is thank god the chicken wing was coated in the mildest of hot sauces. a four-alarm glaze would have spelled D-O-O-M for the vibration of matter as we know it.
Rather nothing! You speak so vomitously of the sacred espace to the virginous eyes of those who might be reading...those who are not ready to comprehend what lies beyond the surface of all things.
The Fuchs...perhaps he knows too much. We must develop a recourse in case he becomes too powerful. My guerillas in the Carribean indicate sightings of him near the hottest of chiles, although it could've been illusions manifested by his chicken-wing disruption of the espace. The question now is whether to attempt to contain the Fuchs (risking certainly our sanity and possibly our very culture) or to engage in diplomatic discourse.
the only way to contain him is to bind his energy to a golden drum key, and that key is then to be swallowed by a willing warrior who must endure a fantastic battle within his body for each of his remaining years. this is no blessing, however, for shall the warrior's will fail against the Fuchs, the Fuchs shall be born again in another powerful, perhaps even more formidable flesh vessel. this is the terrifying feedback loop of ghost and host that has played over all of space and time, it is our charge, it is our curse. he can not be defeated or removed form this world, his power may only be detained. temporarily. ready yrself. to chose the diplomatic route is to bend yr mind to his will. we are men of action, and compliance does not become us.
p.s. i don't think i'm wily enough to be the one who swallows the key. i fear that if i were to imbibe the darkness and fail in my task i could doom us all by becoming a being that can shred and play drums simultaneously. music and everything else will die.
Perhaps there is no more fitting end, but that will have to be a tale of what could have been. I've considered consulting The Myth Himself on the matter of The Great Swallowing.
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I doubt not his power.
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The Fuchs...perhaps he knows too much. We must develop a recourse in case he becomes too powerful. My guerillas in the Carribean indicate sightings of him near the hottest of chiles, although it could've been illusions manifested by his chicken-wing disruption of the espace. The question now is whether to attempt to contain the Fuchs (risking certainly our sanity and possibly our very culture) or to engage in diplomatic discourse.
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