All Along The Watchtower

[thebes]

As dusk gives way to night the routine of watch keeping

verges on boredom. The leather straps

of the bronze-covered wooden shield begin to dig and rub the flesh two hours

into a four-hour shift. The sword

scabbard starts to bruise the thigh and the spear grows heavy.

Its like this a lot when youre perched on the firing step

of mortar and stone overlooking a vast plain on the borders of the empire.

Routine but you stay alert nonetheless because you know they are there and they

will be coming.

Its the end of an age.

The barbarians are at the gate and its only a mater of time.

The Funkster and Go-Go Kingdoms have fallen to the Rap

Horde. The Motown Providence was subsumed. Overwhelmed by the Purple Rain

Confederacy.

Barbarians calling themselves Pop Tarts and Boy Bands

infiltrated and took a terrible toll among the almost mythical Those Who Can

Sing barons. The sprawling Gospel League shattered by the Christian Upholders.

In the South it was bad.

The Nashville lords and ladies had abandoned the working folk, plied

them with bread and circuses, a glittering court with no honor or soul. The steadfast and true Norleaners had been

undone, betrayed by The Emperor and his consorts. Only the Austin and Santa Fe

provinces remained.

Sentry duty gives you time to think and muse. Im no historian but they say the rot really

started internally and point to the Great Disco Schism as the start. I trace it back even further to the

suppression of Doo-***. The harmony of

The Empire was shattered.

Doesnt really matter.

I fight for the intangibles of honor, to stand tall against those who

would shatter civilization and always for my fellow warriors.

We are gathered here now, knowing the attack will soon come.

Over the horizon gather the Ipod Dynasty, The Bose Nation and the Rap Horde.

Just a scratch force here:

the Blue Grass Battalion, The Classical Corps, The Rock and Roll

Division, The Jazz Dragoons and the most steadfast of all, The Blues Phalanx.

Then there are our barbarian levies and mercenary troops:

The Speed Metal Cavalry, the Folksters and that amorphous group known only as

the Soul Cats.

Im off soon. I

think Ill just wander around tonight, spend some time at the various units campfires. Hope they have something interesting for me

to listen to.

For now though, its ok.

The grubs good and the camp followers come in twos.

[Klipsched with Yamahas]

Wow.....what ENLIGHTENMENT![Y]

Have a great Easter Thebes......good night for a campfire also!

[Tom Mobley]

Must be off his meds again....

[smilin]

Must be off his meds again....

I THINK HE IS ON MORE, NOT LESS[]

[colterphoto1]

that last line is the key. i knew we would not have Thebes wordsmithing without mention of the twins.

[Mallette]

But the gaurd has heard rumors of a secret base from which the acrid smoke of furtively rolled home grown still wafts down the streets in the morning mists. Rumor has it just north of the fallen cities of Fortress Worth and Dallas. The cover is said to be a university town where outcasts and misfits gather, not to "make it" in the faceless mass of the Umpireal Stomptroopers, but to MAKE MUSIC in the tradition that made the the old republic great. Only the must trusted know of this latter day Brigadoon, and even the most highly trained Hip Hoplites of the Umpirer's Own detect nothing as they cruise the streets in their Hummers attempting to flush out members of the forbidden Blues Brigade (known to many as the Delta Force) with their dreaded concussion weapons throbbing in all directions without mercy.

Save your '78's boys, for salivation is at hand. Maybe not today, maybe not tommorrow, but someday they will burst forth in a new birth of Righteous Brotherly harmony and the old refrain of "James Browns body lies a moldering in the grave!" will resound across the land, and on that day all men will be judged by the content of their Content of their Collections rather than the color of their hair.

[PhilMays]

Thebes, you certainly have a gift!

Whilst the gathering morning clouds envelope those tired orgs of the prophecies, they lay their heads on their damp rags in the places they call home, while the Scratch Force troops steady themselves for the uphill battle that only they know will be won.

The orgs are pitiful in their complacent almost ignorant exuberance much like the fat king feasting on turkey legs and gravy as his heart slowly calls his life to an end, prematurely. Only the Kings Court knows of this destiny preparing themselves for the coming freedom.

My leagues prepare yourselves, for the battle is now, and victory is imminent.

[Travis In Austin]

That was a major bourbon buzz killer. I had to think to much and it shifted my whole preception out of whack.

What about cool cats just wanting to get into the groove? Can't we be netural? Must we gird our loins in order to dig the beat? Rather then be a champion of my camp, I think I will brave the mighty unknow, and follow the lot of the crusaders, the explorers, the conquestadors--gaining satisfaction that I might tread where no man has ventured before.

Outside of that, I think I will fix another bourbon and play some Doors and get back to where I was before.

Travis

[oldtimer]

"a university town where outcasts and misfits gather" (Mallette)

Ah yes, the place that I not only call home, but feel at home. After all, it was inevitable.

[thebes]

Uh oh, the first replies are referring to me in the dreaded third person again. The kindly staff at the Happy Valley Funny Farm used to discuss me in the same manner.

Yes the DWIlawyers of the realm will stand aside if they can but the battle lines are drawn, the forces are on the march. If we fall then all to soon you will be crushed under the boot heels of the Ipod Nation. You'll be bundled aboard trains and shipped off to the dreaded Macarana Camps.

(Double uh,oh. The Twins just spotted my reference to camp followers. Now as I sit here typing this they are double-teaming me by flicking my earlobes. I think I'd better get back on the line.)

[Mallette]

"a university town where outcasts and misfits gather" (Mallette)

Ah yes, the place that I not only call home, but feel at home. After all, it was inevitable.

Dangit, Oldtimer, the Umpireal Auditors have ears everywhere. They will alert the Disco Techs and be AT YOUR DOOR. Loose lips sink ships...

Dave

[Travis In Austin]

Uh oh, the first replies are referring to me in the dreaded third person again. The kindly staff at the Happy Valley Funny Farm used to discuss me in the same manner.

Yes the DWIlawyers of the realm will stand aside if they can but the battle lines are drawn, the forces are on the march. If we fall then all to soon you will be crushed under the boot heels of the Ipod Nation. You'll be bundled aboard trains and shipped off to the dreaded Macarana Camps.

(Double uh,oh. The Twins just spotted my reference to camp followers. Now as I sit here typing this they are double-teaming me by flicking my earlobes. I think I'd better get back on the line.)

The pen, as you so aptley demonstrate my good friend thebes, is mightier then the sword. Someone has to venture out, someone has to find new ground worth defending, worth saving, worth resurrecting (Its Easter).

Travis

[HarryO]

Thebes,

Scribe on. Freedom in thought. Portrayal, concentration even if only for the moment.

As a child of the 60's, my concentration dumped by the wayside from better living through chemistry, I can catch a fleeting glimpse of your thoughts from time to time. You put it eloquently. Keep up the vigil noble sentry. You may not be alone. Then again you may.

HarryO

[oldtimer]

"a university town where outcasts and misfits gather" (Mallette)

Ah yes, the place that I not only call home, but feel at home. After all, it was inevitable.

Dangit, Oldtimer, the Umpireal Auditors have ears everywhere. They will alert the Disco Techs and be AT YOUR DOOR. Loose lips sink ships...

Dave

And they will be blown back to the street as a quartet of Forte II's are unleashed on their ungodly souls playing Tchaikovski at trumpet section levels...there's even more where this comes from I say as I call on Dtel to load up the truck and bring up my reserves...

[Daddy Dee]

Thebes,

Excellent thread or yarn, I might say.

You must see "300".

[thebes]

Thebes,

You may not be alone. Then again you may.

HarryO

I get that a lot. I have no idea what they are talking about.[]

[skonopa]

Then there are our barbarian levies and mercenary troops:

The Speed Metal Cavalry,

Ahhh yes! There is a small but loyal (and growing) cadre of us power/progressive metallers that are still fighting our best to keep the hip-hoplites, rap brigade, the bubble-pop platoon and other such foul creatures at bay. Some of us even turned the rap/hop-hoplite's own weapons against them! Nothing like watching the hip-hoplites go running and screaming back to thier mommies after getting a taste of the true power of "real talent"! We have the Sonata Arctica platoon, the Stratovarious platoon, the Pagan's Mind platoon plus many others. We continue to fight for and hold on to that shiny beacon of "real talent" and "meaningful music". We proundly fly the Rage banner, the Beyond Twilight banner, and the Dream Theater flag! We shall continue to fight and we shall prevail in defending the great republic of good music. Death to all rappers/hip-hoplites! Down will the bubble-gum pop-tarts and boy-band brigades fall! For we are the metallers and metal shall always prevail (after all, what you'd expect out of a group of folks that sing about dragons, swords, kingdoms, war, and such?)!

I gotta admit, this is fun!

[ZAKO]

With the curley white whiskers sticking out of my ears,,,God I feel Too old to fight this battle.

[pauln]

"They say I bit one cop and punched another one in the stomach,

but I distinctly remember turning into a dinosaur-type thing and eating them."

[thebes]

A trumpet blares, then toodles, then breaks into a bit of Bee Bop finishing off with a plaintive Spanish wail. The traditional call to arms amongst the Audiophile Empire.

To the ramparts boyos!

Cresting the ridge on the plain before us are the advance elements of invading host. To my shock the Grunge Rockers have defected. They are arranged as skirmishers in advance of the Indie Rock Brigade marching forward in lock-step putting forth a one-note caterwaul as they slide their spears up and down on their animal-hide shields. In the center are ranged the Ipod and Bose cohorts. On the left the Tinseltown Cowboys range along in loose formation. On the right Christian Upholders are mixed in with the American Idols. Screening the flanks are the mindless numbers of the Rap Brigade. Well in the rear waves the banner of their leader, Yanni The Pretender.

On the firing step the Imperator, Sir Mick, consults with his generals while a detailed and restrained string quartet sooths the nerves so that their counsel will be reasoned and calm.

The decision is made we will meet the host before the walls, stout walls at our back should need arise. We disdain seige warfare and will meet the enemy in open combat.

Our remaining Gospels sing open the gates and we sally forth to the martial strains of Lubwig B.