The Duke is a Free Man!
by Duke Crevanator
Well, for all of ya who don’t remember the last issue about how all good things come to an end but that it’s every depraved, psychotic, noodlebrain’s responsibility to bounce back and keep rockin’, then ya won’t totally get the second half. Anyway, here’s what happened in the days following my depressed state after all the other friends took off and I was faced with a trial that had me looking at the big house and tons of more legal bullshit. If anything, it shows that those of us who are False Epicureans and true worshippers of Discord always win. Wind it up!
(Postscript #1) Shortly after I finished my little piece from the last issue, I was pleased to find out Mad Dog was returning for a week while his ship was being rigged out for a long journey on the high seas. We partied with the Queers and drank heavily. We heard all the new Queers releases and then brawled in the living room breaking lamps, spilling beers and putting holes in the walls. We got in a heated argument with these Greek dudes at a cheesy pizza place cuz they wouldn’t serve us beer (I started it by commenting on how my favorite day in history was in 146 B.C. when the Romans killed every man, woman and child in the Greek city of Corinth and then razed it to the ground). Then Mad Dog and I started talking about how friends were the only really important thing in life. We talked about the Swede and Birdie and, in their honor, drove to the radio tower of a nearby station and climbed to the very top in the freezing cold and huddled at the pinnacle underneath the pulsating red light. We smoked a blunt and Mad Dog started yelling, “Birdie, Swede, Crevanator, Mad Dog!” I joined in and we chanted on at the top of our lungs for quite a while. It felt like we could see the entire world from that height. The lights of cities many miles in the distance glittered in the darkness of the woods and it truly felt like the thousands of miles that separated us were aspects, instead of the normal negative, of the human experience. It moved me enough to temporarily think that the world might not be so bad after all.
(Postscript #2) The night before the trial, the day of the Superbowl. Spent the day at a local bar with the regulars, drinkin’ Pabst and talkin about the real shit: friends, booze, drugs, and naked girls. Got a ride home from this hot little girl who is a Russian major at the local college. We philosophized about the true nature of justice and how our system is based on who has the better lawyer. Luckily, I have one bad-ass lawyer who ain’t got no room for no one, especially a little punk-ass puke of a prosecutor. Now I’m sitting here at 1:00 A.M., smokin’ a bowl, listenin’ to Ice-T and agreeing with his statement that “Got 99 problems but a bitch ain’t one.” Women ain’t the problem it’s everyone fucking with me and all the other real people who haven’t realized that Nothing is worth taking seriously. Fuck ’em all!
(The final installment) Victory for Crevanator! Yep, ya guessed it, the glance of Fortune and the blessings of Eris all shone on me today. All charges were dropped due to the lack of appearance of the cop who tried to set me up. But it gets better… Now the cop has to face a hearing cuz he’d been subpoenaed to testify and it was discovered that he’d gone skiing. And in case y’all didn’t know, that’s against the law. How sweet it is! Needless to say, a massive celebration was called for and I’m convinced the Higher Powers made my lucky day coincide with the Queers going away bash. We boozed heavily all night and jammed out some new tunes with myself wailing on the swinging axe and Joe Queer himself playing the ultimate new tune “I Like to Hurt People.” Yep, ya could say we trashed the place.
Now that the celebration is over, I’ve come to a real serious-like conclusion: It’s time for the Crevanator to hit the high seas to new ports of entry. We all know the pigs around here will be after me worse than ever have before, and believe me, they’ve been after me for the last eight years. So look for me at yer local Queers show (I’m the guy who does the vocals for “This Place Sucks!”, “Trash This Place!”, and “We’ll Have a Riot Doing Heroin,” and after that, y’all be hearing from me from some distant port doing the same old thing with all new people. And believe you me, it’ll be goin’ down in a seriously depraved way. Well, I guess that’s the way it will always go.
