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Dressed To Impress

It's Time To Shine

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Name:
Dick Danger
Birthdate:
30 September 1985
External Services:
  • britches11596@livejournal.com
  • Kleeb Effin Rules
Kleeb:

-Electrical Engineering Major at PSU main campus. Status: Junior. May minor in Music Tech or Film Studies or both

-Drummer of The Bullet Parade. Also plays around on saxophone, keyboard, and guitar. Former member of Kill The Lights

-Chief editor of ALT Magazine and tentatively In On The Joke, an independently published zine of art and opinionated writing.

-Filmer/editor of the Of All Days documentary. No current film project in the works, but possibly one about local Wilkes-Barre music when new camera parts are purchased.





I want to pledge allegiance to the country where I live. I don't want to be ashamed to be American. But opportunity, no it don't exist. It's the opiate of the populace. We need some harder shit now, the truth is getting around, and each public school is a halfway house. Where the huddled masses sober up and up. Enough? There's not enough to fatten the cows and feed all of us. It's just a rationing of luck. What can't be bought gets raffled off. Oh God, good God shed greed on thee, your shining sea turned a dirty green from the industry off the shores of New Jersey. I got a letter from the army so I think that I'll enlist. I'm not brave or proud of nothing, I just want to kill something. Too bad that nowadays you just point and click. Swing Lo satellite, hot white chariot! In the computer's blue glare, the bombs burst in the air. There was a city once, now nothing is there. Our freedom comes at their expense. It makes sense, does it? Dollars and cents. They're stretching barbed wire across the picket fence that is surrounding your housing development. Just in case you lack the confidence. Oh God, my God, give strength to thee, these amber waves, purple majesty, are nothing but backdrops for Disney. Well look up close. It is superimposed, on a blank blue screen. It is fantasy, fucking magical. The dream floats like a chemical through each snapped synapse. Our television past that is beautiful no more. No more.

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