Leave at Your Own Chosen Speed.

People of every colour, marching side to side. Marching 'cross these fields where a million fascists died. You're bound to lose, you fascists bound to lose!

~Woody Guthrie, "All You Fascists"

Well, the weeks have sidled by with their backs against the cold brick walls of life; careful to stay in the shadows and avoid detection by various law enforcement agencies, wandering Jehovah's Witnesses and earnest old ladies fundraising for the local bowling club's annual "Sit Around, Drink Tea and Reminisce About Our Lost Youth" event. But the mood and the weather has well and truly packed it in. Snow in the city.

From across the seas of inevitability, London has run a ripple of visceral fear through the quivering jowls of those old ladies grasping their donation buckets with emaciated talons. It is now safe to assume every and any hoodie wearing boy or girl on the street is a vermin-souled cur; a ne'er-do-well, bad-lifestyle-choice making looter in waiting. All iniquities must be brushed forthwith under the collective carpet of public outrage.

Yet beneath the braying of the corporate papers, spineless pundits and fearful masses, locked away tighter than the funds raised by Mildred and the gals on behalf of the Bowling Club - in the hearts of any and all remaining forward thinking people in the West - is the truth. Like always, it hurts. But it's a-comin', as Woody Guthrie would have said.

The violence and wanton destruction in various parts of Britain's most bloated and rotting city is just the first shrugging, sloping, tracksuited sign of mass rebellion in Britain. Just because the lean young bloke in purple Adidas sneakers and homemade face mask might not be able to tell you in specific political or historical detail why he's just helped to smash up a portion of Tottenham on a seemingly random day in mid-summer, doesn't mean that political and historical reasons don't exist. Writing these riots off as mere mindless thuggery is both dishonest and cowardly. If thousands of young, predominantly youthful black males are smashing up Olde London Town in the year 2011 for absolutely nothing, then I'm a died in the wool capitalism-loving, free marketeer.

30 years of neo-liberal economics, greed, successive governmental regimes spouting weak platitudinous rhetoric, and complete disregard for those in need has led us down this path. There will be millions more young men and women in hoodies and masks smashing cities across the Western world in the next ten years. The spark might be police corruption and killing, as it was in the case of Mark Duggan. It might be regressive, restrictive policies implemented by increasingly insipid democratic governments of all persuasions that are owned by corporate and banking interests. It might just be that the sheer day-after-day drudgery of poverty eventually becomes too much to bear for too many people. No job, no house, no family, no future, no change. Doesn't leave too much scope or hope for legal recourse, does it?

If the riots were simply a cry for attention to be paid to the millions unable to live decent, respectable lives in the so-called free world, do you think the leaders of the West listened? Or did they regress to divisive, derogatory speech, reactionary fear and loathing, and threats of State-sponsored fascism? You can lock up rioters, but the numbers of working and non-working poor are growing steadily larger as the wealth of the world concentrates in the upper stratospheres of this global Ponzi scheme we're wilting under. The British government will lock away these people for their actions, but fail to address and improve the lives of all poor people in Britain. The rest of the Western world will do the same, ignorantly awaiting the first outward rebellions in their own cities.

The 2011 riots might one day be remembered for their youthful exuberance. One enthusiastic dude even called for folks to "come join the fun" down a TV camera. At the time I laughed at what I imagined the Mildreds of the world would have thought of that likely lad's invitation. However, when London and the rest of the world is rioting for the third time in 2021 in the wake of global economic collapse and dwindling industrial energy and food supplies, will it then dawn on us that we're nothing more than jaded old cunts, and we've wasted the world and all our lives in the pursuit of empty, dollar-sign distractions? Will we see that the beauty of our lives lies in being collectively happy and prosperous, or are we forever damned to killing each other in increasingly brutal ways? It is time to organise and push for some fundamental and substantial change in the world - that is the message of London, 2011.

Albert Einstein said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. What do you suppose future generations will say of us in the fullness of time?

***

In non-ranting band news, we're playing Bummerslam 2011 this Friday night in Tauranga with a bunch of other good cunts. If you're in town and not of retirement age you should come on down and shake your mafuckin' groove thang. Attic Sky's are playing and they're a talented bunch of young dudes, so if you're in to talented young dudes that should tickle your weird little fancy. Anyways, it's at Krazy Jacks. Starts at 11pm. See y'all there!

Also, the "Will Play For Food" gig a couple weeks back was a raging success. Big, enthusiastic, philanthropic crowds are good for the soul. A large and hearty thanks to all the weird and wonderful people who donated food for the less fortunate and danced the night away. And an even larger and heartier FUCK YOU to the little dipshits who started a geographical "I'm from the western suburbs and you're from the eastern suburbs, therefore we are enemies" fight out the front of the bar in between bands. Grow up, you little fags. We're all from the same city, and all gangs are lame. Barking like dogs in the street at one another is just sad and frankly depressing. Lucky enough to be born a human being and you spend your Friday night barking and slinging unintelligent, Nazi gang slogans at your cousins out front of a punk rock show? Not much to be said for that.

Anyways. True love,

~Mitch.

Kill All Randian Heroes.

Donald wept through the proceedings. His tears soaked through the canvas that cloaked his twisted face and they stained his orange jumpsuit where with such rare distinction he once displayed the evidence of his outstanding contributions to the maintenance of a kingdom come. But those days are gone. He's nothing more than a number on a docket thick with shareholders, engineers, PR firms, politicians: war profiteers. "How the fuck did I end up here? This just isn't fair. Ain't no place for a millionaire." He searches for the words to stop this table in mid-turn, like "We are but old men," and "We only did what we were told," but the laughter from the gallery drowns out these vestiges of a profession's oldest defense.

"The court will direct the record to reflect compliments from the bench. You, sir, are Central Casting's crowning achievement. And for your outstanding performance in a comedic role, I'd like to dedicate the findings of the jury to the dead. But how can one man ever repay a debt so appalling? Can't gouge 10,000 eyes from a single head, so I think we should observe a sentence that will serve to satisfy both a sense of function and poetry. So you will spend the rest of your days drenched in sweat, with your face drawn in a rictus of terror as you remove another buried land mine fuse. Meanwhile, 100 yards back behind the sandbags, a legless foreman pulls the trigger on a red megaphone. Squelching feedback. Drunken laughter. Broken English. His dead daughter's picture..."

Time and tide, no one can anticipate the inevitable waves of change.

~Propagandhi, "Iteration"

If there is indeed a God (there isn't) true war criminals - the likes of Donald Rumsfeld and his nihilistic-money-making ilk - would have been prosecuted like the above song envisages years ago. With that in mind, it's up to us to usher in the inevitable waves of change in our own communities and countries. Daily the citizens of the world are subjected to carefully scripted abuses and atrocities in the name of Globalisation and American Capitalism. The Captains of Industry ensure that millions of column inches every morning are filled in support of their greed.

Rupert Murdoch said that yesterday was "the most humbling day" of his life. It's probably the only humble day the man (and I use that term loosely; he's more like affluent pond scum) has ever experienced. If we can truly make the Murdochs eat humble pie at the end of this sordid phone hacking affair - bring down the sick global media monopoly that has allowed Murdoch to buy puppets in parliaments around the world - it bodes well for open-minded, free-thinking citizens of the West. Take heart from the Arab Spring. Don't mistake the lowest-common-denominator shit-streaks that pass for articles in Newscorp papers for the truth. Don't get all of your information from the 6 o'clock news. Don't place your faith in the men and women at the top to do what is right for everybody. They have already been softened up by 30 years of rampant, unregulated neo-liberal free market capitalist propaganda and they refuse to see the writing on the wall for this failed system. It is up to us to be catalysts for real change.

We played a fun gig on Saturday night at Tzar/Teazar bar here in our hometown, Rotorua. A small but enthusiastic crowd, a couple of free shots and the best sound we've so far created. Thanks to the brave souls who came along!

Our next show is the "Will Play For Food" gig on the 29th of July at Tzar/Teazar again. You'll get to see us play, and also be treated to the heavy tunes of Hundred Acre Woods and the acoustic punk of Myth of Democracy (Matt Billington from 5th Threat and Cheap For a Reason). An eclectic night of music to be sure, but for a very good cause. Entry will be by can of food or a koha with all proceeds going to the local Salvation Army. So rummage through your cupboards for any canned food that you don't need and bring whatever you can spare down to the gig. It's been a pretty shitty winter here in Rotorua so far, and with food prices, unemployment and inflation skyrocketing under the blind eyes of a National led government there are people really struggling to make it through to the warmer months. Let's help out those who need helping and have a damned good time while we're at it! Hopefully we'll see your face there.

Keep on laughing. Tell jokes. Seek out knowledge. Try not to be a cunt too much. I'll do the same!

~Mitch.

I Never Shook Babies, I Never Beat No Ladies.

"I used to do things and I'd say things and Jesus I was evil."
~Darcy Clay

A small step. After a very brief yet highly intense internal struggle I have decided to create a band blog for Kid Cynical. Now I can lob my dubious pearls of wisdom into the ever-more-ridiculous realm of the interwebs for your perusal, like so many tear gas grenades lobbed into a crowd of peaceful protesters. The effect will most likely be the same: muffled screams, hacking coughs, weeping eyes, a putrid smell and crowds rapidly dispersing from the scene.

But don't let my self-congratulatory tone put you off. Read on!

The whole crux of this blog thing is to fill you in on exciting band shit. In the highly likely event that nothing exciting will be happening most days, you will be able to read my barely coherent literary wanderings/stumblings. Think of it as the belletristic equivalent of watching a shit-faced drunk fumbling in his pocket for a cigarette with his right hand, while his left simultaneously attempts to aim an arcing rope of recycled Lion Red away from his own leg. It ain't high theatre, but it's funny and compelling in a "I can't look away from that horrific confluence of human misery" kind of way.

In other words, the best kind of entertainment.

Anyways, this is just the first of many ramblings, whether you like it or not. If you do, tell your friends (including the fucking annoying one who always hangs around even though he/she is clearly not wanted and compounds everyone else's resentment by chiming into intelligent conversations with inane prattle or completely irrelevant horseshit) to read the blog and download our e.p. "Kick With Both Feet" from our bacefook page (htpp://www.facebook.com/kidcynical). That would be damn swell.

In this week's Band Member Updates: Rik and I are furthering our tertiary education, Ginge is studying/thinking of not studying anymore, and Julz is working his sweet ass job and plotting the re-introduction of Zyklon B into mainstream governmental pharmaceuticals. Collectively we're beginning to work on some new material which we'll hopefully bust out for you fullas some time in the next couple months.

Stay alert for the spread of fascism and remember: if you're not angry you're not paying attention.

~Mitch. xo

P.S. If you're in Rotorua we're playing this Saturday night at Teazar Bar in town. You should come, bey!