Aaron is a Grad Student in Environmental Engineering at USF. He doesn't know what that is either.
It’s time for a game! If you’ve ever been on the internet before, you already know the rules to You Laugh, You Lose, so stop reading and get looking. For the rest of you, congratulations on emerging from that two-decade coma, and here are the rules of the game: Look through the following 15 pictures, and remember: You laugh, you lose! That’s it. Why are you still reading this?
WIN
‘Plastic Beach’, the newest album from pop supergroup Gorillaz, is a confounding listen. Much like its title suggests, from a distance, this album appears to be everything that fans have been waiting for and more. With an impressive cast of co-stars, it reads to be a ground-breaking blast… on paper. But when one examines closely, it turns out that the sand and waves are merely hollow representations of how amazing the record could have been. As the equally plastic NOW Magazine puts it: “It has hooks, but none as immediate as past Gorillaz hits.”
It shows characteristic signs of dance-worthiness, but at other (unfortunately more frequent) times, it devolves into utter tedium. Too many tracks start out at the pace that they will ultimately maintain, and nearly every song seems to pass through some stage where the novelty edges dangerously near grating or downright annoying. Although a progressive group in some senses of the word, most of the songs begin with great promise only to dwindle into repetitious lushness, never breaking out of that 4/4 ‘tick tick tick tick’ hi-hat and 1-2 bass snare humdrum. The reviews are puzzlingly positive, with only the Los Angeles Times breaking the mold and slamming it handily: “Too many of these 16 hazy, half-crazy tracks sound like undercooked studio goofs recorded in the wee hours by Albarn and his impressive circle of celebrity pals.” Perhaps the writers in LA were not so awestruck by the celebrity guests. They and Brasky both urge you to keep in mind: although perfectly good corn sometimes turns up in turds, it is inadvisable to consume.
Other reviews paint a picture of an unforgettable album worth listening to again and again: “[Plastic Beach is] not just one of the best records of 2010, but a release to stand alongside the greatest Albarn’s ever been involved with and a new benchmark for collaborative music as a whole.” says the BBC. While it may be a shot in the arm for pop music, overall it seems like just another album, the way that many bands’ fourth and fifth records happen to turn out (read: Zeitgeist by Smashing Pumpkins, No. 4 by Stone Temple Pilots, etc). The main gripe that Brasky has with this album is that it simply never finds that explosive passion from previous recordings. Although the snark and intrigue remain, the energy and soul seem to have been drained from the disc, replaced by something ‘plastic’, something that the band seems to assume that we will automatically get excited about simply because it exists under the ‘Gorillaz’ moniker.
What has happened here is a symptom of what is wrong with the music industry today. You can give dozens of talented artists all the money in the world to create an amazing album, but all the thousands of gadgets and guest lists and marketing and music videos featuring Bruce Willis can’t immediately produce something honestly innovative the way that the tedium and struggle of real life is able to. What have Damon Albarn and Snoop Dogg got to rap about these days? Having to wait five minutes for the maitre’d to snag a second bottle of Rothschild from the wine cellar? After a few tracks, the album becomes very similar to a “2 Hot Girls in the Shower” youtube video that you’ve been watching, waiting for the tits, and in the end that black screen comes up and you realize that even though it was called “2 Hot Girls in the Shower”, it’s just two women in their thirties standing in the shower talking about inane crap.
But if the Gorillaz new album is something that is ‘so good it’s bad’, so to speak, here is something that is ‘so bad it’s good’. Singer-songwriter Mark Gormley is everything that is RIGHT with the music industry these days.
Mark Gormley is completely without pretense, ego, and restraint. Bill Brasky made Mark a guitar from Velociraptor skulls and dark matter to celebrate Mark’s being elected the president of the Moon. Mark Gormley puts all the money in ATMs. Mark Gormley invented three ring binders. He also does Chuck Norris’ taxes.
Florida is characterized by beer distributors and wholesalers as ‘a light lager crowd’, or a major-brand-preferring consumer base, much the same as the general beer-drinking populace of North America. Although a ‘light lager’ is just the sort of brew meant to be enjoyed while lazing on the beach or pounding em back at a college party, what are Floridian beer snobs expected to do? There are many reasons for this barren beer landscape: Florida has a heterogenous mixture of transplant residents with no strong preference for any particular variant of tasty brew, it has the general lack of unique local restaurant chains that could be tempted to serve craft brews (Outback steakhouse and Hooter’s both started in the Tampa Bay area), and a dearth of local craft brewers. Luckily for Floridians, that last driver for the formation of a ‘light lager crowd’ is beginning to fall apart. Craft breweries are starting up all across the sunshine state (there’s a list at the bottom!), and some are producing downright sensational products. One in particular, Cigar City Brewing, is stepping up to the Craft Brew microphone and making a lot of noise.
Cigar City was founded in 2007 by Tampa beermeister Joey Redner. In three short years, Cigar City has gone from ‘Isn’t that brewed in Ybor City?’ to ‘Dude, I love the Jai Alai!’. (Jai Alai is a devious IPA brewed with a staggering assortment of hops… it comes at your tongue with a distinctly bitter citrus bouquet and an affirming alcohol bite). The brewery and tasting room is tucked away on Spruce Street just a stone’s throw from Tampa’s notorious Dale Mabry Strip Clubs. I was in attendance Friday night as they christened their new tasting room/bar, and it was raucous. Taps were changing every fifteen minutes, and local beer lovers got to sample some unique offerings from Cigar City, including an 11% monster of a collaboration with the Bruery, an Orange County CA craft titan. Speaking of collaborations, Cigar City has recently had visits from some notorious brewers, namely Larry Bell from Bell’s Brewing and some of the fine folks from Lagunitas. Their experimentation has spawned some unbelievable suds.
So here come the beers you absolutely have to check out (if you can get your hands on them):
1. Oatmeal Raisin Stout: This is the most unbelievably tasty brew I have ever had, no exaggeration. It tastes exactly like a liquid oatmeal raisin cookie. Sweet, dark, toasty, and with the overwhelming aroma of fresh raisins, this is liquid crack. Worse than liquid crack. Like break-in-in-the-middle-of-the-night-and-steal-a-keg good. Made only in five gallon batches, this is truly something special.
2. Humidor Series IPA: The humidor series of brews is aged with cedar in an attempt to give the brews a crisp, spicy finish, not unlike a good cigar. Mission accomplished. This is almost like drinking a bloody mary… pepper is the driving flavor with rich, aromatic grapefruit and currant tones. You have never had anything like this, I can assure you. I wanted to put olives into it.
3. Double Cream Stout: Nice and strong, this is the definition of a goblet beer. Fine latte-like head, it’s got the taste of a good Belgian and the body of delicious motor oil. There is also a humidor series cream stout, if you think you could handle that.
If you can’t make it into the tasting room for an extended session, Cigar City also is innovating a concept new to Floridians but already going strong in places like Western New York: Growlers. Growlers are 128+ ounce jugs that are filled straight from the tap, with the intent that you are to enjoy the local brew in the safety of your own home. Fill ups are 18 bucks or so, and the initial purchase of the growler is a measly six bucks. You can also use the jug to blow into and make that cool sound you’ve always wanted in that cool band you’re in. (Fun Trivia! Growlers are called such because in olden times, people would bring buckets directly to the brewery, where the beer men would fill up the vessels with still-fermenting beer which would bubble and growl as the patrons took them home.)
Other cool links to Florida Brewers:
Florida Brewer’s Guild – Statewide Super-Team
Dunedin Brewery – Dunedin
Charlie and Jakes – Melbourne
Tampa Bay Brewing – Tampa
Seven Bridges – Jacksonville
McGuire’s Pub – Pensacola (beware obnoxious music)
Bold City Brewery – Jacksonville
Swamp Head Brewery – Gainesville
Florida Beer Company – Melbourne (conglomerate of microbrews)
Brewzzi – Boca Raton
Big Bear Brewing – Coral Springs
In Florida, the first weekend in March is usually a Northerner’s fantasy… highs in the 70s, fat old sun shining away, birds bigger than they ought to be lazily picking critters out of serene swamps… but something significant is missing this year. It’s not the snowboards slowly playing shuffleboard in West Palm Beach, and it’s not shark attacks (although their number is down significantly). There is a very quiet ghost roaming South Florida, one whose glorious life was short but beautiful, and meaningful to many people around the world. March 6 2010 is the two-year anniversary of the death of a very good friend… In 2009, Langerado, Florida’s premier music festival, was canceled indefinitely, with little chance of ever occurring again.
Langerado’s official website is a cheery tombstone for the vacant stages not being constructed for the lack of performances of any number of amazing artists. 2008, Langerado’s last stand, had a ridiculously good lineup, featuring REM, the Beastie Boys, Gov’t Mule, of Montreal, The Roots, Pelican, Blitzen Trapper, and dozens more. Thousands of minds were blown by performances too numerous to fully attend. But according to attendees, there was an ominous presence that hung over the proceedings, taking the form of harsh, inclement weather that made some feel as if they were not welcome at the location. Tents and tarps were blown around through the night by the breath of a winter storm whose chill would nearly freeze solid the remainder of the weekend’s acts. Indeed, after 2008s event, the Big Cypress Indian Reservation no longer was willing to have Langerado on its grounds. After picking up thousands of empty NOX balloon casings, torn NOFX shirts, and soggy used condoms, dozens of crying Indians saw that Langerado had become detached from the Earth and was doomed to fade into memory.
For 2009′s event, promoters had the absolutely genius idea of uprooting an event in which tens of thousands of people would camp out, get high and enjoy dozens of rotating live acts, and placing that event in a single park in Downtown Miami. This is the equivalent of taking five monkeys (all tripping balls) and putting them into the coked-out tiger exhibit at the zoo. Second allusion option: this is the equivalent of taking all the crap in an entire Dick’s Sporting Goods and stuffing it into a Dulce and Gabbana. No parking, limited bathrooms, reggaeton sirens, militant drivers with pedestrians stuck in their grill… needless to say this never materialized, and ‘due to poor ticket sales’ Langerado 2009 was a red herring.
This means that no young men and women will get the chance to sit back on a warm Florida night and watch Arrested Development swirl into a red-toned symphony of rhythm. No one will get to wake up to the smell of a man cooking eggs on the radiator of his 1990 Toyota Camry. No carefree barefoot women will get to dance under the moon to the spaced-out grooves of STS-9. The days of an affordably priced rock mecca right in our backyards could be gone.
What does Florida have to fall back on? Ah, but there is hope, after all. The Harvest of Hope festival in St Augustine is the second weekend in March, and it features Broken Social Scene, the Mountain Goats, Dead Prez (?), Rogue Wave, and many others to soothe hungry ears. In April, there is also the Wanee Music Festival in Live Oak, with Widespread Panic, Steven Stills, the Black Keys, and the Wailers among other big names. For electronic music lovers, the Ultra Music Festival at the end of March features Passion Pit, Orbital, the Disco Biscuits, Crystal Method, and dozens more. Festivals in Florida are not dead, but they have lost a good friend. Brasky urges you all to attend one or all of these upcoming festivals, but do so with respect and candor for other attendees and the folks putting on the show. Every time you hide a sack of 200 Mollies inside a strangers tent to keep from getting arrested by the twenty foot tall three-headed cops, a Miccosukee Indian dies a little inside.
Recently a lot of press has been given to the fact that more people preferred to be an online fan of an inanimate pickle than of the modern rock band Nickelback. This has made newspaper second-pages across the country and even solicited ire from the band themselves. But what did this exercise really prove? Was Nickelback’s reputation sullied at all? If anything, people that had never heard of Nickelback before this instance may actually become fans of the band. All that was proven was this:
The general public tends to polarize into bland, isomeric factions based on personal preferences.
Nickelback is not necessarily a terrible band. By some terms, Nickelback is a great band. They have high production value, they’ve sold an unbelievable amount of records, and their songs have become cultural mainstays. Whether you like it or not, Nickelback has a devoted following, and those people probably think that your love for Animal Collective or the Velvet Underground makes no sense at all. It actually does make sense that Nickelback is so popular, however: their easy-to-remember melodies, straightforward lyrical content, and polished pitch and timbre are all very average and digestible, which makes them a common denominator to anyone that likes to listen to music. Nickelback is designed to be background music for some people, be pumped loud from a pickup truck by some people, and be go-to music when a diverse crowd of listeners exists. Although it may lack nuance, its existence is inevitable. It is music for the masses.
The fact that 1.5 million people became ‘fans’ of a pickle is of no consequence. These people are not fans of any specific pickle, or of any meritorious action that any specific pickle has ever committed. They simply clicked a button. They spent two seconds reading the premise, clicked that button, spent two seconds looking at how many people were currently in the group now that they had joined, and then proceeded to watch a video of a dog dragging its ass on the carpet (you are always two seconds from seeing a dog drag its ass on the carpet on the internet). That’s it.
Coral Anne, the proprietor of the pickle group, must be learning some lessons from this. What we here at Brasky.org hope that she learns is that social networking groups have subtly changed from being a facilitative utility to something like a keychain. People no longer have to even join or become active within a group, they simply have to ‘like’ something, and even if you have forgotten that you ‘liked’ something (unfathomable in real life yet commonplace in virtual life) your social network will remember your preferences for you… Nickelback’s pickle became part of your tag cloud, filed somewhere between Chocolate Rain and Wear Red for Haiti. You may see it in a couple years and think ‘Ha, I remember that,’ or you may never see it again at all.
Do 1.5 million people not care for Nickelback? Confirmed. Did 1.5 million people get a non-sequitir joke? Confirmed. How about this for a social network group: I’ll bet this Non-Profit Organization can get more fans than Soundgarden. Or: I’ll bet this Awareness Campaign can get more followers than Three Day’s Grace. If we can herd people mindlessly, let’s herd them into something with substance.
That being said, make sure to become a fan of Brasky.org on Facebook and Twitter. thx
THIS JUST IN: FLORIDA NOW 35% COVERED IN WRITHING, ANGRY SNAKES
Pet pythons placed in peri-urban waterways have found their way to the Everglades, and are thus slowly winding their way around Mother Nature’s pale, exposed throat, settling in for a joyless, reptilian kill. Many thought it a hoax when five years ago, a difficult to comprehend photograph surfaced on the internet… one in which a fifteen to twenty foot long snake had apparently consumed a sizable alligator, but in the last frantic throes of the insanity of death, the alligator had exploded from the gullet of the snake, leaving behind a pile of gore the likes of which not seen since Vietnam. Mankind is now embroiled in a war with an enemy which society has used as a symbol of evil since the dawn of time, and the battleground is America’s last bastion of child-friendly entertainment.
” – dead alligator
Referred to as ‘the python army’ by a not-the-least-bit reactionary and jingoistic PBS documentary, this reptilian force is growing by the minute and is having difficulty sating its indiscernible thirst for house pets, local wildlife, and your neighbor’s adorable three year old daughter. In a swampy environment suited to its mysterious and cold-blooded nature, pythons are currently stockpiling untold copies of themselves in anticipation of a forward assault by rednecks armed with shotguns on sticks and other means of home-concocted badassery. According to a news release in the Miami Herald, beginning March 8th, Pythons are to be hunted and terminated with due prejudice. Whether fighting out of fear, pride, or the sheer need to whoop a snake’s ass, backwoods folk are volunteering in large numbers to neutralize the serpent menace.
“The quickest and easiest way to euthanize them is with a sharp instrument like a machete,” Cole, a snake expert, said while pacing back and forth, addressing a ragtag group of jittery warriors. Those who have already engaged in combat with the beasts describe their struggles: “It tried to bite me but it bit itself,” Mennine said, “I grabbed it by the head and threw it in a bag. You don’t want to end up with a Burmese necktie.”
Though not poisonous themselves, pythons can undoubtedly be expected to enter into an alliance with Florida’s Water Moccasins and Diamondback Rattlesnakes in a last-ditch effort to diversify their armaments. Dade county reports airboat sales are up 1000% ahead of the coming struggle. Local snake-hunter Pat ‘Speedy’ Ross describes his pre-battle pump-up: “I usually get a few Busches in me to get nice and tight, n’ me n’ Fleabag take out bout three harpoons n’ couple a shotties n’ they don’t even care how many ya catch. Makes nice boots.”
At right: ‘Speedy Ross’ — Unfortunately this war is just beginning. Each second that we spend writing blogs and watching tv, pythons are crouching in the bush eating endangered species. We’re getting softer. Ross describes the ghastliness of battle with this sobering image: “When you cut off they head, the whole body keep on squirmin. Still shootin out blood, tryin a get away. Best way to get em’s if you can get em with a lawnmower, gets em into smaller chunks.”
Editor’s Note:
http://3.ly/prepare
Time for another Publix dick-riding session! The following five beers are not the craziest, tastiest, or most amazing beers, but they are definitely more cost effective than the last five. These will all set you back about seven to eight bucks a six pack. If you’re not from the south, then you’re probably confused as to what I’m talking about. Publix is a grocery store that specializes in going balls-out for its customers. Its headquarters are in Florida, and the majority of its stores are also located within the penile state. I once read a ‘Laughter is the Best Medicine’ column in Reader’s Digest (the best the doctor’s office could afford) that claimed that a little girl mispronounced the pledge of allegiance by instead saying ‘and to the Publix where we buy our stamps.’ As if the world needed more convincing that little kids are stupid. That being said, we begin our list of Publix-available beers.
| Drifter Pale Ale | |
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Kicking off our list is Drifter Pale Ale. This is a mild, tasty offering from the venerable Portland institution Widmer Brewing. Most often I see these six packs for $7.50, which makes this beer, at 5.7% alcohol, a great value for drunkage factor. Ale purists may turn up their nose at the relatively mediocre hops flavor and murky golden amber color present in this brew, but for casual drinkers or people not indoctrinated to crazy shit like DogfishHead’s Palo Santo Marron, it should feel nice on their big toe stuck cautiously in the pool. Widmer is most famous for their Hefeweizen, which is also available at Publix now and then. |
| Long Hammer IPA | |
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I will begin with a pointless statement: Long Hammer IPA is better from the tap. That being said, this beer still packs a formidable punch in a bottle. Known more for their ESB (extra special bitter), Red Hook has emerged as a growing force within the craft brewing community. This beer is certainly hoppy and fairly high in alcohol content, as you would expect from an IPA, but like its identically priced cousin Drifter ($7.50), it is missing signature hooks that would solicit any rave reviews. If you’re an every night drinker like Bill Brasky, this will be a tad lighter on the pocketbook while still giving hop addicts their sweet sweet mommy. And I will close with another pointless statement: the label design looks cool. |
| Kona Pipeline Porter | |
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This beer is delicious! Although it’s a rarity on store shelves, this beer is a must-buy if spotted. You will not be disappointed… Come on, though, does anything shitty come out of Hawaii? This porter is a dark, roasty, heavily malted brew with a coffee-oatmeal flavor and a slightly sweet finish. Kona town is famous for its coffee, and they would most likely be ashamed of themselves if they didn’t make a beer that showcased that natural flavor. Their flagship brew, Fire Rock Pale Ale, is available year round, although it is much less noteworthy than the porter. |
| Turbodog | |
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Abita Brewing is the pride and joy of Louisiana, along with overalls, the groundbreaking Beads for Tits legislation (1969), and Drew Brees. Turbodog is one of Abita’s landmark beers, along with Purple Haze, a raspberry infused treat (also available at Publix… what d’ya know?). Turbodog is a porter, and if you’re new to beer (don’t tell anyone), this means that it is a darker, smoother, creamier, richer, and generally lower in alcohol beer. Turbodog’s turbidity belies its darkness; this is an easy to drink brew with a fresh, fizzy follow sure to please fans of serious suds. And if you disagree, GTFO: regardless of its middle of the road drinkability, this beer is breaking down barriers and offering the olive branch of tasty beer to nervous swill drinkers across America. Some neophytes may find it too much to handle, but really, that should be read as “YOU WON’T, FGT!” |
| Spaten Optimator | |
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Sweet, sweet motherland! Spaten Optimator has been around so long that Bill Brasky used to drink it from the bottle as a baby, and it’s just as good now as it was back then. Publix carries a fair variety of German beers, but Optimator is among the elite. Its deep copper color and rich finish make Optimator the most classic definition of a good brew. Spaten has quite a variety of beers, including an Oktoberfest that is worth picking up (Publix of course carries this), but Optimator is their annual powerhouse. If you’re a fan of Yuengling, Optimator is like its big brother. One final warning about some ‘German’ beers… Anheuser Busch currently is the owner/producer of Grolsch, Beck’s, and Leffe. Brasky urges you to avoid beers under the Evil Empire’s control, even though (unbeknownst to us at the time) last installation’s Hoegaarden is also now owned by the conglomerate. |
I will add a final note regarding these beer choices: some of the above listed beers are seasonal, and are thus not available all the time. Also, each Publix is fairly unique as to what beers they carry. I select these posts based on what is available at the Publix on Fowler Avenue in Tampa, Florida (near the University of South Florida). That being said, commence bitching.
A phantogram is an image that has been color adjusted in order to make the picture, with the help of 3-D glasses, emerge from the page with new-found fidelity. Immediately upon settling the needle down on the imaginary vinyl of Eyelid Movies, the rookie album from the New York duo that record as Phantogram, the sound emerges in much the same manner… it seems to diffuse out from the speakers, a highly textured mixture of viscous sexuality and fearless mystery-pop that requires no special glasses to tickle your amygdala.
I have always asked myself the question ‘What will music sound like in ten years?’, and usually I come up with a generally far-fetched image of some total fucking weirdos making music that is a distant cousin of our relatively blaise current music. Generally that idea is disproved, although music does evolve, and yes, performers continue to get stranger. I am not usually disappointed, but I am a bit baffled at music’s predilection for recalling old tones and tunes and presenting them as new, and some genres’ musical oeuvre is so narrow that any progressive move would put new material in another category. Phantogram’s new album has come the closest possible to fitting my imaginary mold of some of the future aspects of music. It relentlessly blends styles, keeps sonically pleasant tones in mind, and doesn’t skimp on the quality for the sake of sounding authentic or ‘indie’.
For me, the best music evokes not an immediate emotional response or motivation, but rather summons a vaguely interrelated cloud of adjectives. I have prepared two graphs to give my best shot at scientifically explaining what happens when virgin ears happen to run into Phantogram’s album. The first is an interrelated scatter chart of adjectives in an (X,Y) arrangement with ‘cool’ on the X axis and ‘strange’ on the Y axis, and the second is a pie chart attempting to account for the dozens of influences one will encounter on Eyelid Movies.
Ten pervasive adjectives are listed on the left, and they form the basis for the left to right flow of the infographic. As we can easily see, initial reactions of the ‘strange’ variety give way immediately to a growing trend toward ‘cool’. As the album progresses, strange moments pop in here and there (consider a song titled ‘Futuristic Casket’, which starts out with gangster rap beats, yet ends with tender xylophone arpeggios), but the prevailing feel is that this is an unflaggingly hip, dark, and exciting album. Etiolated means bleached by lack of sunlight, by the way.
The next chart offers a detailed analysis of the songcraft and sonic 
texture of the album in terms of possible influences. The three strongest are Serge Gainsbourg, a deceased French songwriter (whom the band themselves cite as their prime influence), the Postal Service, and the Cardigans. Other influences are peppered in without abandon… I could have sliced this pie into slivers trying to characterize single songs, let alone the entire thing.
To wrap this up, this is an amazing debut album. My only regret is that it will be some time before we can hear new material from Phantogram, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a 2011 follow-up.
8.5/10
Last Saturday, the finest event in sports came to Tampa’s Raymond James Stadium for an unforgettable night of competition, pageantry, and triumph. The world’s trials and tribulations were put on hold at exactly 7:30pm, when the lights were lowered, the crowd tore its teeth out with anticipation, and the grumble of the competitors’ guts grew into an eardrum-splitting frenzy not heard since that one time Mt. Olympus exploded and buried all those people in red-hot liquid diamonds. MONSTER JAM HAD BEGUN.
The competitors were many. Maximum Destruction. Blue Thunder. Superman. The Gravedigger. But at the end of the night, only one would stand atop the piles of twisted metal and broken limbs that used to be their enemies. Roughly a third of the audience were children when the night began, but everyone walked away men.
The competition began with qualifying races. Although the trucks were matched up two by two, the best times would then proceed to the freestyle, where the intrepid machine/man combinations would slake their thirst for destruction by eliminating old yugos and derelict school busses. Superman had early issues with his truck and had to be towed aside, much to the delight of Batman, who watched from above with a stone-faced satisfaction. After all the racing was completed, and the crowd was irresponsibly drunk, an old piece of shit motor home was wheeled out to the center of the field, a sacrifice to the gods of motorsports. Freestyle was to begin.
Since Blue Thunder was the fastest qualifier, the motor home was his to devour. After catching some routine air, he drifted into a crash course with the old trailer, and the crowd’s hoots became hollers. The sound of the raging engine was deafening as Blue Thunder charged in and turned the motor home into thousands of pieces of broken dreams. Blue Thunder then resisted the urge to crush the rest of the competitors with his eight foot diameter wheels and pulled aside to watch the rest of the mayhem. The remaining competitors got their turn on the track, catching major air, pulling wheelies, you know, basically trying to impress Brasky. A couple even ended up on their tops, upside down but unfortunately not on fire. Just when Maximum Destruction thought that his aerial acrobatics had earned him the ultimate laurels, the crowd mustered all of their remaining strength and screamed with the passion of 250,000 banshees, because they knew that one truck remained, the venerable, fearsome, devastating GraveDigger.
Even the picture of GraveDigger is bigger. I don’t know what they had been feeding GraveDigger (my guess is angus bulls, pure octane, and widows of base-jumping victims), but GraveDigger put on a spectacle of high flying, wheelie popping, shit-smashing excellence. The dead man’s delight made every other truck’s performance look like five year olds playing with Tonka trucks in the sandbox. Dare I say it, but they put GraveDigger last for a reason. Stacking the deck is legal in monster trucks, that is, if your ace in the hole is a ten ton murderer ready to set fire to the world’s forests and sow salt in the greenest of pastures. After burning out the retinas of all who beheld his badassery, GraveDigger was awarded the highest honors, and somehow we were able to find our measly little car and teleport home safely.
Am I different now that I have seen the Monster Jam? Yes, without a doubt. If Bill Brasky weren’t busy fighting a hydra in the core of the moon, then he would have been at Monster Jam, and maybe he would have been changed as well. And where were you, while the monsters were running amok? Your excuse is not accepted. But all is not lost… Monster Jam can be enjoyed safely from your living room every day at 5pm on Speed Network. Verdict: second best thing ever. The first? Well, we’re not that kind of website.
Photos lifted from IJsselstein’s flickr. I didn’t take any pictures because we sat in the stratosphere.
JUDGE THIS PUG!
COME ON, YOU MEME LOVING BASTARDS! DO YOUR WORST.
HERE IS A LINK TO THE ORIGINAL PICTURE
AND GO
