I've mentioned in the past --hopefully not to your recollection, because that would probably mean you were sick of hearing about it-- that a sibling of mine sings in the band These Green Eyes, and so I feel some kind of obligation to show interest in the shows. Perhaps not all of it is fake; that bunch seem to be competent musicians, but the atmosphere they exhibit it in is not to my liking.


When last we met our heroes, the lead singer had just been shot...


by a mysterious poison-tipped dart which caused him to transform into a monkey.


Now, the exciting conclusion.

This time, there was no Twister. I guess last time there was Twister. When I came to finish this page in November 2005, I found the above image labelled "no twister this time.JPG," so I assume that must mean something to someone.


Speaking of time, this clock had not been altered to comply with daylight-saving time. I guess I was pretty desperate to take pictures back then.

This was not one of the green eyes. There are usually more than one and more than two song-groups assigned to do what they do on these occasions, and this was a member of one of the others. Oh woe, it always disappoints me to know how the education system has failed. Back in my day, kids knew how to spell "nerd."

Even though this one is spelled properly, I do not pity the person wearing it any less.

The inherent plurality suggests schizophrenia.

After the Toilet Boylets (not actual band name), there were others.

They declared that their act would only end when they had finished eating their clothing and musical equipment. Or maybe they didn't.

and then there were the Eye people.

They looked sort of like this. The ones who are visible here. And they played some songs. And then the lights turned off. And then the lights turned on again.

"These Green Eyes couldn't be here tonight; we are the Justice League of America."
That is what one of them said at a time like this. Do not confuse them with the Justice Leagues of Luxembourg or Lithuania. This is the American Justice League. The one that lets a murderer go free because the arresting officer spelled a name wrong on a form and forbids the display of particularly telling evidence because the judge wants a three day weekend. Even though of the five heroes depicted, I only know two to be actual Justice League members, the effect was done well. Well enough. But then, my only knowledge of the Justice League comes from one of the remaining 1970s era comic books an uncle of mine had owned, and the other members were Wonder Woman, Black Canary, and Aquaman, so perhaps it is for the best that they were not represented. On the stage there were Robin, Superman,


The Hulk (I swear), The Bat-Man and... Wolverine. I think, the one from the X-Men movie. Or maybe it was Dare-Debbiel. Or Rim-Rack the red ninja. I didn't recognize the costume. And neither will you, as I cannot find it in any of my pictures. Sure, I could track down the green-eye myspace horkclub and find 80 photographs made by other spectators, owning fancier cameras, dumped entirely without explanation over three minutes on to some page, and find this out for you, but then I might as well just use those pictures, and then this page will be even longer.

The lights erred again. And then unerred. And then this.


However, since I was convinced then that using the "flash" feature on m'camera was "rude," you may never know what "this" is. Witnesses report that, whatever it was, it was, quote, "so fine," that their minds were quite overwhelmed.

Meanwhile off stage, thugs rapidly and painfully writhed about. Usually, that would be bad, but since these ones did it by choice, it was worse. I can understand that you might get some excitement from being bumped around without means to control it (in much the same way I understand that Jeffrey Dahmer ate people for sustenance), but some of these grebos seemed to be looking not so much to excite themselves but more to hurt other people. Is there a need for all the grabbing and punching and spinning ryu kicks? It just seems dangerous. What if someone accidentally throws a fireball? Now, I was not necessarily trampled, but lets just say I was knocked down and stepped on many times. Without even so much as a coupon for a $300 toaster oven or whatever it was. It seems many people remember songs they heard at no-turning-backable points in their lives, such as when discarding their virgin status or becoming a spouse. I can tell you, however, that, despite actually being at a music performance, I am not able to tell you what song was playing when and in what fact drove me to become stepped upon.

It was not getting into a position where people are known to die that ruined the remainder of the evening (if it could be said that I enjoyed any of the prior goings on at all), or even the arrival of the


Flannel Ku Klux Klan, but rather being approached by a badge wearing man who ordered me not to take pictures of "people who don't want pictures taken of." He informed me that he'd "gotten a bunch of complaints" regarding my activities with CAM-RA. It was at this point that I knew the charges were unjust, because there was only one occasion during which I tried to capture the soul of a non-performer... twice, actually, but it was the same person, and one is not a bunch and neither is two.


It was this person, whom I do not fear repurcussions for showing here, because he wasn't actually wearing a ninja costume.

I bet no one said anything to this guy. On the stage, with the band, in view by everyone, taking pictures of the audience, with a camera that did use a flash. How rude! Why, some of those might even come out well!


If I'm going to keep getting hassled by THE MAN when I go out, I might as well start committing some real crimes. Not that I want any, but if I had started tossing merchandise into the audience I could've gotten away with it. Now that I think of it, the police person didn't even demand to check my camera (not that I expect he'd know how) to see if I was telling the truth. I could go into the child pornography business.


There, on the most right: That is the one who might have been wearing a Wolverine costume. I do not think he is wearing it now.


WAR IS OVER (dragon was robot)! IF YOU WANT IT. If I want it over or if I just want it? Use complete sentences, please! This line is being credited to John Lennon, who, as everyone knows, is still alive and keeps very much updated on the dealings of recent war times. This reminds, a couple months back (that being a couple months after I saw this shirt), I overheard some schtroumpf on television say "It's hard to imagine it's been 25 years since John Lennon's death." Really? It's pretty easy for me to imagine that, as I was not alive myself at the time. Hey, maybe I am John Lennon reincarnated. In that case, I want royalties for this shirt and I also want people to stop playing that pogawful "Let it Be" song. I always considered "Rocky Raccoon" my finest work. Doo doo dadoo doo da doo doo...

Hnaw? You say Paul McCartney wrote both of those? What do you want from me? I've only been John Lennon for thirty seconds. Give me a moment to get my memories in order. Shank, why couldn't Paul have been shot and reincarnated as me instead? Then "Say Say Say" would have never happened.


You may remember, but likely do not, that when I went to the show in May, 2004, the friendship admittance bracelets all had pictures of ghosts on them. Guess what the theme of the Halloween show was...


If you guessed "orange circles without any further characteristics," you must be me reading my own page again, because anyone else there and in a position to know seemed quite possibly too drunk to give such an accurate description.

The next thing I will describe to you occurred on November 4. 2005. Yes, a full year later, plus five more days. Be disappointed in me for taking so long, but be proud of These Green Eyeses for not having broken up yet. You know how bands are. The performance was supposed to happen earlier, on the Halloween date, but as this was intended to debut the completed music album, the show-doers postponed the show, so to be done later, as to not conflict with the new Coheed, Cambria and a Pizza Place album also to be released on that date. I think. Something like that is what I heard. I didn't buy either (yet somehow have heard both anyway).

As they had done at the previous two Art Barn shows I was not at and did not get pictures of, the gang associated with Een –my brother who is not in the band– planned to wear themed costumes. My sister Salad also generally can be found with them. For convenience I shall refer to them as the Redenbachers. One time they were as pirates, another time they were as indians. Politically incorrect indians. I'm told that this involved a chant filled march to the building and included an unplanned yet synchronised rain-dance during a particularly frenetic song.
Meanwhile, I think I stayed at my home and wrote a story about the inherent contradictions of educational computer software, for this website, which I never used. I'm glad I'm not wasting what someone will tell me later were the best years of my life.

This was the show which was cancelled by the barn itself without notifying the scheduled band people. I guess there were some unexpected cows passing through that evening. It was the ousted bands' hope that by having all the musiclers and audience folk show up anyway and make a spectacle of themselves that something —not necessarily something good— would have no choice but to occur.

The show was stopped due to someone affiliated with the barn reading a post on a message board not affiliated the barn advertising the show in a somewhat crass manner. I never saw the message board, but I think the message involved promises of lewd intercourse with railroad track apparatus for all those who might attend.

The original Redenbacher costume idea for this show was to have everyone dressed as professional wrestlers. I sort of maybe wanted to be involved, but the only ones I could conceivably have portrayed are ones like Kwang the Ninja or Hacksaw Jim the Duggan circa 1999: unimpressively built lorks who cover their entire bodies and carry forbidden weapons to their matches.

The "plan" was changed to just everyone as Hulk Hogan at some point. I was not involved with this decision. That is not a decision I could make. Surprisingly, a sixth of more of the, according to Eeyon, 60, are said to have dropped out when they heard the concert was cancelled. "Surprisingly" because it wasn't more than that. There really were 50 weirdos just planning to stand around outside a deserted Madison Arts Barn dressed as Hulk Hogan. But more on them later.

As soon as they knew what had happened, the green guys insisted that, even if they could not go inside, surely something would happen on that day at that time, and whoever, not just Hogans, that was planning to go at first still should. They told other people to tell local news-reporting organizations to also send representatives. They delegated the task of making these calls because they did not want it to seem like it was their idea. Even though it was. I am not criticizing the decision; I often do the same thing to communicate with outside parties. However, I do it because I am afraid of telephones.

Times unaccompanied by pictures are guesses. Times with pictures are only accurate to the exact minute that the picture was taken, as the camera assigns times itself, in the event the clock is set properly. Also, the camera resets its clock and all other settable things if batteries are not present or my battery chamber holding-closed device is absent or too loose for too long. Further, I store the full size pictures with the accurate times on the other computer to save space, so actually all of these are guesses. Note to me: delete this worthless paragraph before you upload the page.

6:49 pm: I think this is outside the Art Barn. I feared to use a flash on CAM-RA, but for a reason this time, as when I see that many young punks around I'm always afraid of getting shot if I am seen at all.

6:55ish: Police officer warns that everyone will be arrested if they don't leave in two seconds.

6:57 pm: Other officer stresses "two second" point. Colinoscopy sees Slalin and I, who had appeared together, and suggests we get inside the band van. Salina finds her friends, and bes with them, instead. I can fully understand that (getting away from me, not having friends). I stand around like –or rather as– an idiot until Cobol tells just me to get in the van. He also tells a bunch of other idiot-standing-around-as-ers to enter the van.

7:00 pm: Some strange woman approaches van and warns that everyone on board will be "bagged" if there are more than fifteen of them or within fifteen without seatbelts equipped. Woman is never seen again (or previously). Is assumed bagged.

Other persons in van will not shut up for any reason. Even if I wanted to join them, I know that whatever I say will be too quiet and more-than-five-wordy for them to understand. I reflect upon my knowledge that Ian is the single Green Eye fan willing to acknowledge my presence in public, that his Hogans were not planning to go anywhere until 8:00pm, and that this was to the place I was now leaving.

7:02 pm: inside van. where is it going? The general smell was odd. It was bad enough to notice that there was an unusual smell, but not adequate to be compared to any other notably bad smell I could think of. I might compare it to the nasal experience one has during the massive bleed following a disconnected tooth. Perhaps refreshingly unusual, but not at all something I want to happen every day. Maybe that is the smell of Gs, left off all the "fuckin'"s I overheard spoken, which were not able to escape from the van with the doors closed, and so amassed in great numbers. I don't recall any full sentences.

Aw, yesterday I had to fuckin'...

I so just want to fuckin' scream...

Yaw, I read on fuckin' purevolume that...

What's that fuckin' word for when you're engaged in the act of...

Whoa, you're a fuckin' virgin too? That's just...

It could have been worse. If this had happened just a few weeks later and I would have assumed they were saying turducken.


This is someone else's van picture. See, now the page is longer, but I have not communicated any new information.


7:05 pm: van arrives at Sunoco. All persons emerge from all vehicles to catch up on separated groups' inane chatter. I will destroy them.


7:08 pm: Sunoco owner's van arrives, warns people that the police will take everyone down in two seconds if disturbance is raised.
I guess this man was the father of one of the want-be concert goers. At the barn, this goer suggested that father-owned Sunoco would be good place to relocate to, and was overheard by detectives, detecting, who then called Sunoco owner, to say what good detecting they'd done.

The Sun King also advised all in attendance that the policers were only doing their jobs and were not targetting anyone. "Don't be saying eff the cops! Don't all you be saying eff the cops either!" many times. What does fuckin' "eff" mean?

I don't know who told someone else that anyone could go to wherever and do something or other at that place.


Here.

"Here" being where I was, taking the picture, that being across the road from there. Someone's house was here.


This house.

Someone's parents were in the house. Those in attendance were told, naw, warned, by a person I assumed was the mother, to remain in the back-yard at all times, despite the fact that, due to its proximity to the street, it was more of a side yard. The reason for this order is that when you usually do not have authority and then suddenly do, you feel you owe it to yourself to create arbitrary rules that might not immediately occur to your subjects, so then you can keep reminding them of the rules. You don't want to feel later like you missed an opportunity to give orders. I suppose it is also possible that they have a secret laboratory or stack of dead bodies or friendly space alien that they are hiding somewhere in the vicinity. I would understand that.

At some point a few boxes containing bottles containing liquid arrived courtesy of an anonymous donor who is probably anonymous due to having stolen them. The box which interested me carried Snapple brand beverage-drinks. Examination revealed them to be Diet Snapples only. Those communists, bringing Diet Snapples. What, they have to support Stalin because that rhymes with Colin?

A man, who I assumed was the local father, responding to the ruckus late and wanting to catch up on all the order giving he missed, spoke through a loud-speaking apparatus, saying that the whole event would be dismantled in two seconds if people made too much noise or wandered around. That was the only time the man spoke to the group or that the loud-speaking apparatus was used.

Fashion Kore, one of Sallemoon(formerly@aol.corn)'s acquaintances found me, and asked if I remembered who he was, reminding me that he had slept on my couch one time. I guess he thinks that puts him in my club. What he does not realize is that I'm not even good enough to be in my club. At the time of that, I did not know his name was Fashion Kore, but did by the time of this. I suppose his name is not Fashion Kore; I think his real name is Maxwell or Jacob or Tarbozel, but he calls himself Fashion Kore on the internet, and off the internet if you will let him, I guess. I giggled somewhat, hopefully just enough to let him know I thought his name was stupid but seem too nice to say so, confirming our past meeting, addressing him by that name. He requested information regarding his liquorish beverage. He informed me that Colin had "my alcohol." Ehhh, once police became involved earlier, Cocoforcocoapuffs had urged all van-members in illegal possession of such things to temporarily entrust them into his own inventory. However, Fashion Kore was never in the van.Whoo0oo0oo0oo0oo!
FC United asked me if I had seen Sean, I had, but not recently. Sean is an associate of Fashion Kore's, the only being in existence known to refer to him as such without irony. Sean also believed he had exchanged instant messages with Marilyn Manson, because the person said "I'm Marilyn Manson." The reason Kore wanted to know about Sean was that Sean had been in the van, had gotten the alcohol from Kore, and had given the alcohol to Colin. I don't even trust someone else with my 7up, why is it so easy for these yipes to pass their contrabrandy around? I saw the in-van transfer, and it was a little bottle, too. I bet it was just K-Mart kologne with the label removed that some crazy beirdo told those kids was Night Train and charged them $30 for.

We parted. Reportedly, Fashion Core spent the remainder of the evening stalking Colin, debating the specifics of "temporarily," in search of his "flask."

FLAAAAAASK.


CAAAAAAT.


Someone drove a truck to the place and left its headlights on to illuminate the general vicinity. The way everyone came together and made done with whatever they had, it was like minivan-paneling-plastic-woodstock out there.


Here are news people. It is probably good that they did not talk to me. I was planning to identify myself as the band's barber.


They thought if they put themselves through the shrinking machine, I would not find them!

Following her departure, nearby doofs, understanding the significance of the situation, the potential for greater band exposure following any media coverage, described the green cloaked one, Jamie Roth, as "hot."


8:44 pm: At last, the Redenbachers did show up. I attempted to take a picture of them arriving, in formation, and I even pressed the button, but you know how these things are. I have been informed that to the left of the center is someone called "Doozer." He will not be referred to again on this page, or ever by me.


By the time of this picture, the artificial mustache this one was using had half removed itself. I tried to edit the picture so he appeared to have an actual cartoon-urine yellow mustache, but I might as well not have bothered because he still does not have a beard. Also, the more real Hulk Hogan mustachish I made it look, the less it resembled a real mustache. Maybe Hogan himself was trying to look like Asterix. Really, who can know? As you can see, I gave up.

So they were there. And then they weren't.


Ianapolous, who I've mentioned previously, expressed displeasure with the desires of the home's owners to limit the noise level, and also with the proclamation that those who left would not be permitted to return. Ian's response to this: "WHATCHA GONNA DO?!" The response to that response: "I'll shoot ya!" I forgot to mention, we went through an interstatal portal from Connecticut to Alabama to get here.

I-Core (a name which predates and hopefully does not indicate relation to Fashion Kore) explained later that if he had remained he would have started, quote, "punching kids until they die," so perhaps things worked out for the best.

Een instead promptly led his Redenbachers back to the Art Barn ("barn" being another Alabama favorite), and I do not know what happened next. According to legend, he called my home some time after 11pm from Bishop's Orchard's hay-maze, where he (no, not Bishop) and other hogans had split up and were hiding from police. Not for starting trouble at the Art Barn, but just for being in the hay-maze. Maybe they refused to move diagonally. I don't know if this meant there were two seperate battalions (aw naw, not the checkers, too!) after them or the trespassing charge was transferred. When questioned, in costume, all Hogans denied knowledge of each other. None were arrested. Eenybeany was momentarily worried when he spotted a somewhat drunken non-hogan accomplice being questioned by an officer. E is said to have run out of the maze, interrupted the interrogation, asked non-hogan if she'd said anything incriminating, been satisfied with the answer, and run back into the maze.


If only you had not been had!


The lighting did not work with the camera from this angle and distance, but it is readable if you stand nearer to the window. I will give you two guesses as to what I wrote here. . . . . . . Ehhh, three guesses. . . . . . . no, nevermind. Really, you'd be disappointed.
It seems that I only "advertise" in the places which would be least noticable. I could make up something like oh, that is because I am only interested in perceptive people who don't look where others look, but it would probably end up just being a creep who likes to lick glass.

And now, pictures that look even worse.


Like this one.


Yes, it was worth coming out here to film this.


Note that even though at 11:0? PM the Art Barn had been mostly deserted for over four hours, the alternate event ended before 9:30 and the channel 3 people left before then, they still found it necessary to designate this shot as being "live."

I could not get non-tilted shots of the television, because I did not want to obstruct my mother's view. That's a good reason, isn't it? I only made this one appear rectangular by rotating and skewing it. See, even the "Eyewitness News" graphic is unnaturally stretched, due to being at the right side of the screen, closer to me, and being reduced in vertical size to match the left. So that is why. You are not fat, Eyewitness News graphic!


This person talked about how positive the whole thing turned out, and how unfortunate the message board posting was. All the more so, I suppose, since my sources indicate 'twas he who put it there.


I wanted to get a picture of Colinupus speaking where he was looking at the camera and had a whole head, but when I was doing that the scene changed to this person's partial head, behind a red shiny thing. Even she doesn't know who she is.


The news story actually had nothing to do with the cancelled show, but was really devoted to the minuature heraldic lion sillouhettes that injured several residents after escaping from a refrigerator magnet store.


Hey man. Old television shows were performed live, but for immediate-broadcast kinetescopes instead of film cameras. However, film cameras were positioned before live feed monitors, which is the only reason we have records of the shows today at all, so we generally excuse the low image quality.


Usually, compared to other humans I look thinnish, because most people, on the whole, are fat (sometimes they're still fat on the half). However, since those here were largely young punks who smoke cigarettes, cut their wrists, and vomit everything they eat in a day after getting drunk, or by alternate methods if they run out of beer before adequately intoxicating themselves, there's a general health deficiency associated with weight loss that I can't compete with. Remember, I'm the one who has problems. And that is why I am not pointing my self out to you in this picture. Even though I'd prefer you think I look like the rest of them even less.

The whole news report lasted less than two minutes (but more than two seconds) and made no mention of Hulk Hogan or Orville Redenbacher. There was something written in The New Haven Register (which is a semi-local news-paper) about this, but I'm too busy at the moment to go back in time and have read that.

Spoils: Although I chose not to deal with the Diet Snapple, I still escaped with some (this many) Baked! Lays sour cream & onion p'tater chips. I found this in a box before leaving. This is high class stuff (remember, these come from italy), not like your lowly pringles, even if it does not taste quite as good as pringles. That is no 'n in the title; ampersand. These will be eaten long before you see the picture.

Some day he will have a real mustache. But not today. This page is done. That's the bottom of the page, and not because Stone Cold said so, but rather because it is. You are going to become dangerously overbored if you do not leave in two seconds.