Improbable Histories
by Joe Hacking
If someone had come up to me a year ago and told me what was about to happen, I would of thought he or she was tripping.
It all started when Tipper Gore got a little more power than she could handle. Some poorly raised kid saw some video on Beavis and Butthead and imitated it. I think it was that Metallica video where the old man from the video flashes a little girl. I forget the name of the song now. Anyway, this stupid, neglected kid flashes his tiny dink to his third grade teacher and the fucking press blames it on rock music. So Tipper descends upon the music industry with her fucking PMRC vultures in tow and starts to push legislation through congress to outlaw certain types of music and videos. Unfortunately for us, the puritans, led by Rush Limbaugh, actually got behind the bitch and the next thing you know, there’s this law in effect that says you can’t sing about or show certain things on the TV or radio. The sick part is that nobody was even aware of this law until Primus got arrested for putting out their Sturgeon Danish album. Tipper said she heard the line “hung my hog a little bit” on the album, but anyone who’s into Primus knows that’s from “Frizzle Fry.” Be that as it may, the government was hot and heavy for a prosecution on any metal band. Queensryche, Metallica, Corrosion of Conformity, and Slayer all came out with albums blasting the government on everything from military intervention to postal rates. The G-men wanted to make an example of someone, so Primus got thrown in the can.
Now, as you may have seen in movies like Reality Bites and Slackers, our generation hasn’t been known for its activism. But when Primus, then Corrosion, then Slayer got thrown into the joint, fans got pissed. Rallies were held all over the United States in support of the bands. Huge concerts with everyone who was ever anybody played and spoke. Lars Ulrich, saved from prison by Metallica’s massive popularity, told Tipper to “jam a fuckin’ CD player up her fat ass and hit play.” Ozzy Osbourne bit the head off of a bat, shaved his head, drank a liter of Jack Daniels and spewed all over a picture of Tipper. Madonna publicly masturbated in support of the jailed bands while Pete Townsend told Tipper to kiss his “skinny, white, British ass.”
Turning up the heat, cops began raiding nightclubs, beating and jailing alleged members of the Rock Underground, a revolutionary army which was growing in size with each succeeding arrest and detention of metal and rap bands. And with the rappers being prosecuted, the ghettos in every major city ignited.
LA exploded again in the Fall. It was unreal. I remember my band, Malthus Crunch, was playing at the Middle East in Boston, opening for Prong when it happened. We knew something was afoot because the power went out all over Boston. Every major city was a battlefield, the cops couldn’t control a damn thing. It was the beginning of the Rock War, and it was gonna be a bloodbath. The Army had mobilized when the aliens finally contacted Earth.
It was right in the middle of the peak of fighting. They landed in a baseball field in Washington D.C., just like in The Day the Earth Stood Still. People freaked. The army made a feeble attempt to threaten them. But the Pivnertians came out of their boxy-looking spaceship and said that if we didn’t lighten up, they’d turn the Earth into “something resembling a Cocoa Puff.” The army might have opened fire on the elephant-headed aliens were it not for the fact that the next thing they said was: “We have come for your Rock and Roll.” This statement caught everybody off guard. I guess everyone expected them to demand the surrender of Earth or something, but these Pivnertians came to bring Rock and Roll bands back to their homeworld.
They wanted to make them stars. From what I’ve heard, they were turned onto rock by Hendrix back when he did that Rainbow Bridge concert on that mountain top on Hawaii. The people of planet Pivnert wanted more.
The rest is pretty easy to figure out. The government released all the bands from prison. Les Claypool went fishing. The recording industry stepped forward with all their pre-programmed and packaged bands. The aliens told them to fuck off and started recruiting in the nightclubs and dives of Earth. Every kid, and a few adults, picked up any and all instruments, trying to form bands overnight to cash in. The government has tried to step in several times to regulate who goes and who stays, but the Pivnertians keep reminding them of the Cocoa Puff threat. Last I heard, the Feds are talking about nuking them.
I’d like to stick around and see how that works out, but my band just got signed. We’re leaving tomorrow. I hope all you suckers can get off this rock, too, but if you don’t, I’ll see you in the interactive cable.
by Kitty Carlisle, lead singer, Malthus Crunch
