Home is where the heart lies, but if the heart lies
Where is home, is where the heart lies, but where is home?

 You made me what I am today, I should hope you're satisfied,
You dragged, you dragged me down until the soul within me died.
You've shattered each and every dream, you fooled me right from the start.
And although you're not true, may God bless you,
That's the curse of an aching heart.

Het was een fijn feestje in Brogum.

 

Dj Eisbear heeft het beste van zichzelf gegeven!

 

Videoclips mixen is fukkin moeilijk.

De 19e november in zaal jacob (antwerpen) moet ik dat nog eens over doen op de special edition van de 80s hits night (www.80s.be).

komt dat zien!

 

ik kan dit weekend alleen maar zo samenvatten:

 

 

 

 - Johnny Lydon

 

Non Entity

The sky is not the same
Shade of blue
Every single thing
I believe isn't true

Missing in a maze
Of monochrome
How did I get here?
How can I go home?

The echoes in my eyes
Of all they used to see
Burning down the world
The ashes and debris
And all thats left of me
Non-Entity

Tried to stand in line
Tried to obey
The ghosts of what I was
Keep getting in the way

Staring at the sun
Blinded by the light
Now I'm afraid I'm fading out of sight

The echoes in my eyes
Of all they used to see
Burning down the world
The ashes and debris
And all thats left of you
And all thats left of me
All have washed away
Non-Entity

 

- trent reznor

Lang geleden, toen Lt Castillo nog een losbandige jongeling zonder snor was en de president van Amerika een ándere George Bush, liep alternatief
muziekminnend Antwerpen de deur plat van een zaal die Paradox heette.
Des weekends kon er tot een gat in de volgende dag worden geluisterd naar en gedanst op Soundgarden, The Beastie Boys, Rage Against The Machine, Public Enemy, Helmet, Urban Dance Squad, Blur, Ramones, Red Hot Chili Peppers en alles wat daar tussen en naast ligt.

De Paradox' bestaat intussen niet meer, maar een mens kan gelukkig nog wel naar wat anders luisteren dan K3, Sylver, Christina en een gekke kikker. Paradox Revisited (hulde aan de roots, jazeker!) wil de oude glorie laten herleven, maar - stilstaan is achteruitgaan, dat weet zelfs uw oude grootmoeder - heeft ook de vinger aan de pols van de huidige alternatieve pop, rock en hiphop (Franz Ferdinand, The Streets of Queens of the Stone Age, iemand?). Oud en nieuw dus, of, zoals ze in Oezbekistan zeggen, the best of both worlds!

vrijdag 28 juni 2005

Den Aalmoezenier –Aalmoezenierstraat 46/4 – 2000 Antwerpen

22.00 uur

Lt. Lemmy Castillo, Slash Gordon, Chuck D-cup & Rotzack De La Rocka

Alternative pop, rock en hiphop

Vvk: 5 euro reserveren via info@paradoxrevisited.be/ Add: 6 euro

 The world is like a ride in an amusement park.
And when you choose to go on it, you think it's real
because that's how powerful our minds are.
And the ride goes up and down and round and round.
It has thrills and chills and it's very brightly coloured
and it's very loud and it's fun, for a while.
Some people have been on the ride for a long time
and they begin to question, is this real, or is this just a ride?
And other people have remembered, and they come back to us,
they say, "hey - don't worry, don't be afraid, ever,
because, this is just a ride...

...It's just a ride. And we can change it anytime we want.
It's only a choice. No effort, no work, no job, no savings and money.
A choice, right now, between fear and love.
The eyes of fear want you to put bigger locks on your doors,
buy guns, close yourself off.
The eyes of love, instead, see all of us as one.
Here's what we can do to change the world, right now, to a better ride.
Take all that money that we spend on weapons and defenses each year
and instead spend it feeding and clothing and educating the
poor of the world, which it would many times over,
not one human being excluded, and we could explore space,
together, both inner and outer, forever, in peace."

-- Bill Hicks

 

 

- I'd like a ticket please!
- Where to sir?
- Well, how does the saying go? All roads lead to Rome.
(How does the other one go? When in Rome, Kill Me. Hmmm.)
- A return ticket sir?
- No, better make this one a single....

 

Christopher Walken 2008

"Our great country is in a terrible downward spiral. We're outsourcing jobs, bankrupting social security, and losing lives at war. We need to focus on what's important-- paying attention to our children, our citizens, our future. We need to think about improving our failing educational system, making better use of our resources, and helping to promote a stable, safe, and tolerant global society. It's time to be smart about our politics. It's time to get America back on track."

The Official Homepage of the Walken 2008 Campaign
http://www.walken2008.com

 

 

 

 

Here's a cold hard fact that you must now chew and swallow: if you are reading this, you are not macho. Period. Case closed. Real men do not read anything other than GUNS AND AMMO, SPORTS ILLUSTRATED, or SHAVED BEAVER.

 

 I think the death of macho is easily located on a very recent map.

Sometime in the late '70s-right around the time the Village People released "Macho Man" and Barry Manilow sang "Copacabana" and Robby Benson was mewling his way into the hearts of teenage ultra-virgin, men made a serious mistake. We started TALKING to each other. We stopped punching each other and began discussing why we wanted to punch each other. I'll bet my right nut that if I had done some research, I would have found a dramatic decline in facial cuts and brain contusions starting in 1977. Now we're supposed to be sensitive. We are supposed to share our feelings and cry at funerals and care about our hair. We're, in short, supposed to be women. Hello, my name is Shirley. Touch me in the morning.

I believe in equal rights. I believe that women should get equal pay for equal jobs. I believe women should have control of their bodies and be in positions of power. I believe we should have the same size shoulder pads in our suits. But I also believe that men should be men and women should be, well, women. Women should be soft and smart and mysterious. And men should have their own tools. I pine for the sheer stupidity of the old macho days, when men would brandish hammers and build huge, bulky cars that sucked up gas and tore open the ozone layer and crushed small animals beneath totally useless but totally cool-looking tail fins. When men were apes with good shoes and a dental plan. John Wayne, John Huston, Bill Holden, Bob Mitchum, Clark Gable, Babe Ruth, Lee Marvin, Sam Peckinpah. Men who drank and fought and puked and ate raw meat right off the bone and drank some more and fought some more and puked again and kept on drinking. Men who died of massive heart attacks or sudden brain seizures or who just plain fucking blew up. Men who had cancer six or seven times. Men made out of leather.

 

We seem a little more sorry, a little more plump, a lot more ladylike around the edges. If you really want to reclaim your macho self, if you really want to be a macho, macho man, stop reading this article.

If you are still reading, you probably need a little more help.

Forget Robert Bly or FIRE IN YOUR PROSTATE. Don't go on a Male-Bonding Self-Discovery Weekend, which is just another term for Circle Jerk as far as I'm concerned. Here, instead, is a guide:

 

BALLS, A.K.A. COJONES: You should have several. Preferably brass or steel. Extra large.

CRYING: Never. Ever. Over anything. Not death in the family, not a bullet in the chest. You may tear up ever so slightly in one eye only when watching a favorite sports legend retire. You may tear up in both eyes only when kicked, accidentally or on purpose, in the COJONES.

KISSING: see "SPORTS"

HUGGING: see "SPORTS"

SPORTS: Once all men within reach are dressed in a team uniform, it is perfectly acceptable to kiss and hug and grab each other's ass. This is probably because all men are latent homosexuals and prefer male company to female company. But if some guy points out this fact to you, punch him directly in the throat. (Optional retorts: "Prefer this!" or "Fuck You!" or " Shut the fuck up!"

HEALTH: Never go to the hospital or visit a doctor. If you have a stroke, keep drinking and act like you prefer to use only one side of your body. If you cut off a limb while using a power tool-so what? That's why there's duct tape and staple guns. If someone tries to drive you to the hospital after a heart attack or maiming, punch him in the throat. (Optional retorts: "Drive This!" or "Fuck you!" or "Shut the fuck up!")

DIET: meat, cigarettes, meat, booze, meat, and coffee. In case of aneurysm or alcohol-induced coma, see "HEALTH."

FIGHTING: At all times, over anything. Never hit a woman. Or a child. Or a bus. Never hit a priest until he takes off his collar. (If it's the pope, wait until he removes the large hat.) Clergy will often provoke a punch in the throat with their "violence doesn't prove anything" pontifications. (Optional retorts: "Prove this!" or "Fuck you Father!" or "Shut the fuck up, Padre!")

DRINKING: No falling down. No puking-unless to empty the stomach in order to continue drinking. No slurring of words. Tell a few war stories: "See that scar? I was in 'Nam and I ate a grenade and it blew up in my colon." If your aim is off due to alcohol, it's acceptable to punch someone in the head or solar plexus.

SEX: You're probably too drunk or just plain stupid to have sex but pretend you get a lot, i.e. "You should've seen me last night, blah, blah, blah, blah."

Absorb this info and you should be on your way. If you have any further questions, call 1-800-COJONES. Remember: We're men. Big, boxy, sweaty, ignorant men. We have penises. Well, we used to have penises. Either way, I think Billy Martin, the late Yankees manager, said it best when he said, "Hey, I can drive."

 

 

 

- Denis Leary