Thursday, January 10, 2013

The Return of the Magus

It’s the return of the high priest.
 For all three of you who may occasionally drop into this blog for lack of something better to do, I apologize for my extended cessation. I have been in seclusion since October, beginning with the month leading up to the Presidential elections which did consume most of my time and efforts. Your old friend, Lord and Master, faithful droog decided to hone his activist chops in 2012 and got on board with the rest of the NPR/Birkenstock crowd in Miami. The Democratic Party had clearly assessed that they were dealing with a dirty, filthy, stinking rat fink of a Republican the likes of which would give Richard Nixon an emotional erection, so they reached out into the darkened gutters of the moon-lit underworld to seek the aid of the one man capable of fighting dirt with filth… yours truly, Almighty Pig Latin. The world sat on the edges of their ass-sweat saturated couches, thinking that this would be a close one, and for the first hour and a half of the tallies it was. But in my tower of despair, doom and desolation, I watched the whole thing live and in technicolor, and just fanned my balls with my paperback edition of the Necronomicon, in somewhat of a celebratory manner, for I knew that the one of the biggest landslides in Election Day history was about to unfurl, no doubt partially due to my involvement in this election and the barrage of Black Ops tactics that I employed to attain the outcome which I was contracted to secure. The President even thanked me personally, in a private luncheon sacrilegiously held at the LA CARRETA Restaurant, right across the street from the notorious den of right-wing Neo-Con iniquities, VERSAILLES Restaurant. I even have a picture to prove it…

He ordered the Croqueta Preparada and un Batido de Fruta Bomba
 When the smoke cleared, and my man Barack was still H.N.I.C. of the United Snakes of AmeriKKKa, I completely shut down operations at all TOP franchises and went into hiding in the official TOP bunker in anticipation of Republican backlash to a media-assassination campaign that I unleashed on the Romney camp (more details later on...) But more importantly, I was taking up refuge from the Mayan shit-storm which was too come on the winter solstice of 2012. I am not ashamed to admit that the Mayan prospect of our planet becoming a cosmic piƱata was a major source of anxiety and depression, as I had totally bought into it. Well, what?! The evidence seemed truly substantial. And besides, for someone who is into all of the dopey Occult/Esoteric shit that I’m into, I ask, is it really that far-fetched to believe in the end of days? Mathematically speaking, it’s only a numbers game before the galactic shit hits the universal fan anyways! I digress. As a result of the paralyzing fear of my impending doom, it’s needless to say that I found just about every activity (save for my increased drug use and masturbation to Japanese schoolgirl/bondage porn) quite pointless. So you can imagine that when I was still alive on December 22nd 2012, I felt like a man who had been given a new lease on life… a second chance to really get it right this time… That may be the reason why I was somewhat of a modernized treatment of Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas day, full to the brim with holiday cheer, because of the fact that the Earth was still in its rightful orbit among it's planetary brothers and sisters, with a seemingly standard axis tilt. The land was still where land should be, the sea was still where the sea should be, who can complain?!

It is primarily because of these two distractions that I have not been actively infecting the blogosphere with cyber-Gonorrhea in quite some time and quite frankly, I am not sure that I had plans to continue doing so. I mean, let’s be honest here, there’s less people who read this blog than those that actually read my dopey Zine. It just feels pointless. Not that I want to disparage my semi-handful of TOP fans who really do love the Zine, but it’s just starting to seem like I need to re-think and re-conceptualize the journalistic wing of TALES OF PERVERSION WORLDWIDE INDUSTRIES. People don’t really read anymore; I guess mostly because most people can’t, and those that do are probably a bit too smart to read this stupid fucking blog. As far as the print version of TALES OF PERVERSION zine… that’s out for good. Four issues of that sucker is as deep as we’ll go into that epic saga. Doing a fanzine in 2013 is not like how it was in the golden heyday of D.I.Y. publishing circa the early 1990's, when aspiring young antisocial pseudo-intellectuals could walk into any given Office Depot or Kinko's with the hard copy of a fanzine and rob them blind of copies. That racket dried up a long time ago with the invention of the mark of the beast... debit card swipes! And so to publish even a minimal 50 copies per issue (even in digest format) is fucking expensive! Not to mention, if you charge $3 bucks a pop per zine (to be able to at least break even), people will look at you like “$3 bucks for this shit?!” I am compelled to remind these assholes that it is no longer 1992 and the days of the $1.50 fanzine are long gone. Second, I would like to also mention the fact that every one of these shit-head kids looking for cool scene cred (which I target as my demographic) spend more than a measly $3 bones  on some horridly unintelligible  sounding, obscure crust band from Bosnia or some other unknown country that the Iron Curtain took a bloody shit on. Do these assholes mean to tell me that $3 bucks is not a fair asking price worthy of the great bits in the mighty, mighty, TALES OF PERVERSION fanzine? Listen, take it from me, I have been doing fanzines since I figured out that if you keep stroking it there is an exhilarating, messy endgame... TALES OF PERVERSION is probably one of the greatest fanzines of all time…  POINT BLANK PERIOD…

Unfortunately, fanzines are a neglected, and almost obsolete medium. The only way that fanzines are going to enjoy any kind of a resurgence is if you eradicate the internet. And that is not going to happen. Rightfully so! I love fanzines as much as the next prick, but I’m not willing to do away with instant access to Wikipedia and just so that virgins everywhere with scissors, glue sticks and indignation can once again rise to the elevated status of obscurity from fanzine days of lore.

So as to what the future holds for the media wing of this hairy-bush-league worldwide powerhouse known as TALES OF PERVERSION, only time will tell. I’m still running TALES OF PERVERSION RECORDS, and currently wrapping up the production on our 100th release, which is my 5 CD spoken word box set…
I consider this work to be my Opus Magnus

 So for now, I will be posting some of the bits that were going to be part of TALES OF PERVERSION Fanzine Volume 5 on the blog over the course of the next week or so. Also, there will be a couple of interviews and a show review of the REEL AND RESTLESS 90's Hardcore Fest that went on down here in the fall. I know it’s old and irrelevant at this point, but I had some observations that I found humorous and did not want to go to waste. Enjoy!  


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