the death of rock and roll was the birth of a compliant generation. 1000 bottles of Pepsi opened at once and Nike braced its public for a consumerchandising Revolution. there is nothing you do not want. there is nothing you want that cannot be bought. desparate teams of commercial strategists compete to reduce every human desire to a UPC grilled icon and calculate the correct price, then subtracting a single penny. even memories can be rebought. nostalgia removed from antiseptic crinkly shrinkwrap, revisionist history lessons for a generation of apathetic kids who are already tired of hearing about the Beatles they have never heard. why read when you can be passive? propaganda is easily hammered through your cognitive TV set. open wide, children.

the collage was to be a carefully staged reenactment of the fatal concert at the Altamont Motor Speedway in 1969. the concert, however, was not to end with a brutal death but with the Hells Angels and teenagers joining hands as Mick Jagger gently cooed "You Can't Always Get What You Want But I Typically Can (Get What You Want)." strangely, the last great revisionist rock concert has been called on account of fish, the passing of a tranquil flock of silvergilled variables, glistening tails whipflicking rainbow droplets of beading moisture as they swim south. the atmosphere is taut with the silent screamdrama of deamtrauma as haphazard ragged teens press in towards the spectacle. the sitar drones with the wind of mind, fingered by the abstract spectre of Brian Jones. drugged Rolling Stones fans waiting for the opening act--the Residents--to begin concluding respond with sudden intakes of breath to the smooth and frictionless collision of scale and fingerskin. Vileness Fats is calm, defiant, has turned his back on his audience of diseased groupers and intoxicated bikers dazed and fossilized in private gasolinefume hysteria. Vileness Fats is calm, defiant, clutches the Louie doll as a sacred token. when its string is pulled it releases the squawking articulation of the hastily plagiarized phrase. Vileness Fats is calm, defiant, confronting his lawyer in a dark corner of the stage.

some primal conflict was to come unstrung that night onstage. Vileness Fats was to be mobbed, felled like Julius Caesar. Brian Jones, Mick Taylor, Ron Wood: the triumvirate.

what wine do you recommend with this particular plankton?

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