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Princess of Chaos

Princess of Chaos

Great White Lies
Song of the Week 02/04/20
The Princess of Chaos is here… Arriving in an explosion of TripHop-alicious frenzy and hard rock zeal, she demands your full and immediate attention. Give it to her now or suffer the perilous cost…
A frenetic feat in multi-genre mashup with a Zappa-esque post-jazz twist, “Princess of Chaos” by Great White Lies is this week’s Scum Gentry Radio song of the week (which happens every week. Literally every single week…this week, last week, all those other weeks. Remember? That’s right, The Song of the Week, which this week happens to be on the SECOND of April…which is today. April 2nd Day.)
.
SHUT UP AND LISTEN: ...
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Nothing Lives Long

Nothing Lives Long

Short Fiction
Benny Carr
The old guard sit on benches at the back of the room rocking back and forth like warped old grandfather clocks as they neck pints of whiskey and blast off to distant planes. The young mohawks buck like wild horses on the dancefloor as the synth thumps, the guitar screams, and the machine-gun bassline makes mincemeat of the whole tribe. The singer emerges through the haze of smoke in a priest’s collar, blessing the crowd with a toilet brush as he growls:
There’s a hill lone and grey
In a land far away
In a country beyond the blue sea

I’m down the back with the veterans, watching the walls fall apart, as they crawl around ...
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just another old man with a ponytail and a beard in san francisco on a saturday night

just another old man with a ponytail and a beard in san francisco on a saturday night

Poetry
John Grochalski
they come into vesuvio’s cafe
right after my wife and i order our second beer
.
otherwise we would’ve left
.
there are twelve of them
cramped around a table meant for six
.
they look like a fucked up last supper
.
or the type of shallow trolls
who have to go out drinking
with their dozen closest friends
.
it’s saturday night in america
and i’m not made for saturday night anymore
.
but i’m all the way on the other side of the country
and i feel like i need to get my money’s worth
.
before it’s vodka on ice in the hotel bed
watching MSNBC and FOX News duke it out for ...
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Official Radio One

Official Radio One

Poetry
Kevin Higgins
That time of the week
when bachelor farmers decide,
on balance, not to string themselves
up in the outhouse, bravely
switch on the wireless instead;
.
on Official Radio Marion the defunct
feminist-to-a-moderate-extent
has a few old pals around
for two thrilling hours
of cream tea and general
consensus. Last month
one critic unfairly hissed
.
that the show increasingly sounds
like the occupants of a mortuary
in one of the more horrible parts
of Donnybrook, each in turn
rising up in ecstasy to second
what the last speaker said ...
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Screamers and Crooners With Clint McClean #3 - Squarebearderry Interview

Screamers and Crooners With Clint McClean #3 – Squarebearderry Interview

Video Interview
Scum Gentry Radio
In episode three of Screamers and Crooners, Clint McClean sits down with outsider multi-artist Squarebearderry from Derry City, Northern Ireland (hot tip for the geographically-challenged: London is that way =>) for a bag of cans and a frenzied, foul-mouthed drunk talk on a broad range of issues facing the delinquent artist in modern Northern ireland—from nationalism and the arts establishment, to the perils of drug culture and more…
Crack a tin and watch it now. It’s almost like you just walked back into the room after throwing up in the kitchen sink ...
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An Alternative Tale

An Alternative Tale

Short Fiction
Druther Monkard
I believe that over time, stories become truths. Original realities confused and mainly removed.
Hyped and transformed into more fantastical versions and forms, the more times they are spun.
I’m guilty of this too, turning the most embarrassing things I have done, where I have hated myself most, into yarns that create laughter, where there was only self-pity, shame.
I’m a liar, I never meant to be one. Everyone is. I don’t think anyone plans to be in the goodness of their heart. Small white lies, caring for someone else, letting things slide, not telling them what they truly did last night, years pass…I forget what the origin was even, but oh well. This is what ...
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The Crusty Old Man

The Crusty Old Man

Poetry
Name
hushed confessions
screamed into the
pillow each night
before you cry
yourself to sleep
.
no one wants to
become the crusty
old man
.
it’s much more
romantic to die
young, full of
promise and
potential
.
but on the other
side of those
myths are
nothing
.
a vast crease
of time built
on nothing ...
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Little Jackson’s Batha-Ventra

Little Jackson’s Batha-Ventra

Short Fiction
Jim Meirose
Cassie Bash told me that on vacation she and hers were in the town square, out Bath England, we think, milling the small square outside the roman show.
Eh okay, but we’re just about there. Hold it, slow down—I got to watch the numbers.
Okay but anyhow—she said there were four or five artificial romans standing stock-still enticing bored tourists to snap their pictures with them all together, but. The only sensible kind to take were stock-still single pictures like the kind that end up backdrawered in too hot upper unused mothballed bedrooms showing such as brothers in law or similars tight into the leftside, and stepsisters or similars tight into the rightside, the robed rump ...
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