iGGY and the stooges Iguana Chronicles - an ongoing hellrant. pt. 2 "I'm sick of you."
iGGY and the stooges Iguana Chronicles - an ongoing hellrant. pt. 2 "I'm sick of you." FUCK WHITEPOWER! FUCK AL-QUEDA! FUCK ISRAEL AND ALL THEIR PUPPET GROUPS!

A real time odyssey into iggy's world circa 1970ish.

The Iguana Chronicles.

part 2. I'm sick of you.

slow groove... iggy sounding like a fucked up brian jones with bad breath. and so.. the night continues... williamson sucking on guitar... right from the first... i'm like... damn... isn't loud enough.... not that it isn't tasty.... but it's another piece of iggy's throwaways.... it's a good one though.... 'sick of you' and a buncha cheesy organ riffs... except they couldn't afford the fucking organ.... damn... shoulda stuck with elektra.... and so... another groove ripping through the night... sounds good on the heroin they scored though.... and so... groovin... slowly... kinda angry... kinda wanting to be my dog.... but they aren't... and they aren't and they aren't.... not that williamson really sucks on guitar.. it's just kinda 60s derivative instead of the forward looking jive grooves that the elektra albums promised.... no wonder this song got dumped.... awww.. it's alright.... but it's not awright. and so the groove picks up a bit... iggy tries to keep it from going in the dumpster... but somehow.. he knows that it won't... will he get any money from williamson from it? dunno... but something tells me williamson is a villianous little fuck.... did he give iggy money for these masters? how bout the ashetons? dunno... care.. have to speculate though... maybe mike watt will find out for me... suupersnoof... checking like poirot to find the ancient crimes of these bozos.... and the groove rocks on... he's sick of me.. he's sick of you... he's got all these hangers on.. and the only thing that keeps him going is the studio and the drugs... he doesn't want to go anywhere near the crowds again... or does he.... luded up.. talking trash.. wishing to god he hadn't taken 5 of them... but jumpin' around just the same.... does iggy have anything but id that drives him? does he have a superego? dunno.... care... but dunno... how are his drugs today. I'd say they aren't bad... but he could use some food... more hambergers... more hambergers... get me a goddamn hamberger. and then.... something breaks.... he realizes it's not about the music... the drugs... the hamburgers... the groupies... about his making bowie his bitch. and he knows how to do it. He sees a vision in his mind of bowie kissing his ass going 'great stuff igster' great stuff.. slobber slobber. So he tightens shit up a little... starts dropping some rockin' riffs that only a brit could love into it he starts playing these back and forth call and response vocals where he's the only vocalist... he knows bowie is a whore for playing the kinks in one headphone and the who in the other.... and the groove begins to pick up... i'm thinking that maybe the drugs got to him.... but they didn't... the guitars got to him... he realized they lethal instruments in more ways then one... and that the cia wasn't chasing him... it was the fbi... and that jim morrison wasn't really dead... he was bruce lee... and that your mom was really a beast of mordor... and not a beast of harad as he'd always thought.... and then... he crakced... his brain spilling out on the pavement in the studio... that they used to hose down after the animals pissed all over it.... and the music kept playing... and playing... and he couldn't leave.. he couldn't take a whizz... he had to piss on the drums... and he did... and he got shit all over asheton's face... and he got the shit beat out of him.... only he was faster.. and it's off to the looney toon races again.... and so what... the music... who cares... it's about the scream.. and vile noises that are coming out of his butt and the pants that are showing his buttcrack... and the drugs that are finally taking hold... oh... wait.... that's the ulcer from the booze last night.... i'm finally sick enough that i'm getting hallucinations.... i don't need the drugs anymore.... wooooo woooooooo woooooooo! woooooo! and the dog howling and barking on the back of the soundtrack.... and then.... oh no.... off to the can.... the hottie i was checkin' out..... has left.... and all the shit... and all the shit... and finally... he puts his mind back on the prize... bowie as his bitch.... shake appeal.... the grooves... shlurping the microphone.... just like he wants bowie to... and so many groupies... and all of them smearing make-up all over their face like the 'swamp women' and all the money that i spend on the crackheaded bimbos that are in the ward right now.... oh... wait... that was the eighties... and i'm not there yet.... but they are... and they're thinking back hells at me... and all i can do is spew butt juice all over the bass... and rant on... rant on... all i've ever seen is the money... and all i've ever seen is the donutwhores... and all i've ever seen is the drool running down the mic and bowie going... ooooh... i wuv this album matey and passing it back and forth to his homey friends and their love pigeons.... bowie... love pigeons.... iggy.. his dog... i can't see nothing comin' i can't see the beer spilling in my eyes... i can't see the drugs stopping me from ranting more... and then i realize... it ain't the drugs... it's the religion... i'm caught up in the furor of my love for the world.... only it's in words... and music... and iggy pretending to be timothy leary and jim morrison rolled up into one stomping dervish of a moaning man."winners and losers" and something has to let me know who is who... what is what... i don't care.. i don't want you to know that it's the eighties now and they've got a gay midi box... and they don't have the sense that those retarded kids with guitars blazing had... but then... iggy would crrrry..... and go back to kate pierson.... and then... the grooves pick up again... and the midibox starts playing some flock of seagulls crap.... and all the stinging guitars in the world can't get them out of my head.....

now..... if i told you the ending to this story... you'd be unhappy... but basically... i'm saying that iggy burned everyone... including me.... he knew i was getting the hell off on his seventies groove... so he psychicallly planted a cheezy 80s riff on this great triple ep crapathing that i'm listening to bomp(bcd113).... and all i can hear.. is the cheezy organthinger with arena rock beats... but iggy hasn't made an arena appearance lately.. he's stuck following the beats of nina hagen sniffing up her trail/tail (take your pick) and there's one thing that he's hunting right now.... the music... but he knows it isn't all the music... it isn't all the drugs... it isn't all the insert stardom catchicon here.... it's that he's hunting bowie.... for taking his anal verginity... and soon... he'll kick him the glass spider.. and it'll be on like donkey kong.... you see... he made bowie his bitch... but one night... late... while bowie was in his cups and ig was sleeping off the whores... bowie and mick jagger snuck into his room and forcibly made him eat dick and take it in the ass... you see... they had his buttsnuggly pajamas and they were going to set them on fire.... and he couldn't have that... he couldn't... he couldn't..... and for three days they buttsodomized him and made his drugs taste bad.... and he had to get back to his ancient grooves again... so now... he hunts.... and searches.... and tries to find that little weasel bowie in one of his haunts so that he can kill him dead dead dead and have it blamed on his sissyboy.

that's the ending... but we aren't there yet.... right now... igg's still hunting some bastard in 1993... remembering his old lyrics from the drug days.... he's found his groove again... he's not using some faggot duran duran arrangement and he's kicking mad ass as a musician.. an entertainer... and the only thing missing.... is the thrill of seeing bowie the next day after he smeared poop on his jowls and flushed his speed down the toilet.... boy was bowie pissed... it led to the breakup.... no... not of the rolling stones... of bowie and iggy... starstruck lovers... stupid binge and purge junkies trying to see who could remain thinnest and have more skinflaps.... it was ig... and bowie was all broke up about it too... he had to hide his face in tina turner's ass and gobble... for like three years.... soul music... more like a lovesong to tina.... but wait... this isn't about bowie... or is it... it's about ig... and his groupies... and his stageshow... and his duckwalk... and his fat anal love troll.. the one he stole from lou reed.

and now.... there's nothing like an old sound.... and they're back in the 80s.... grinding and grinding shake appeal... knowing that bowie is beaten and done for... he's laying back in some chinese brothel and iggy has taken all his fans and iggy has taken all his drugs... and all that matters anymore is the recording... cuz he knows someday he'll be dead and his book petered out after the first 1100 pages.... and then nothing could go wrong.. until the dog ate it... and the braindrool started and the crafty bastards had taken his dreams... and here he was whoring himself on stage again... except he didn't have a contract and he didn't have a deal... and he didn't have a groupie... except for that girl out in the audience who was wearing a siouxsie sioux t-shirt and looked like she might shoot him... and the tight pants on her put her his old song into his head.... it's the choppiness of cd's that i hate.... it's skipping on me... like iggy... he's skipping around like a little girl on stage and i don't care nuffin at all. except i remember the beer i spilled on it last summer.. when i was ready to kill creem for being a white power joint... and suzy for taking it out on me emotionally even though i was living according to my belief system (to not be a whore for a white power bunch of asstwats. themselves whores for israel.. riled up any time israel needs distraction from their crime sprees) and all i've managed to do is dig deeper into the iggy paradigm... was it them holding hands and walking in the park? nope.. it was them hiding each other's drugs pissing on each other and pretending to be mick jagger (the male) one at a time.... and then... something happened... they realized that mick sucked...(thus the lips) and that they had to do something about it... they did... they hooked keef on heroin and started running him around town.... calling out the names of ancient vagabonds to him who used to sell him junk.... nothing was new... one long sentence... one evil grin.... one hated rant (i hate this rant) so the fuck what it's real... so am i... and i'm coming to town... when i get there? self-aggrandizement city.... you'll think corey haim was goddamn pat morita for all my self-aggrandizement..... and here comes a vintage 1980s drool... jeez.. why didn't bomp put this crap on a 80s droolfest release instead of the classic 1972 studio outtakes.... BECAUSE THEY KNEW NOBODY WOULD BUY IT! Is this whole thing worth the 6.fitty or whutever? probably... this is a classic documentation of whatever the fuck iggy was drooling before raw power.... and some of the stuff he drooled in the eighties. Not that i mind iggy's drooling... it beats the fuck outta listenin to joe walsh.... it beats the fuck outta listening to most of the bastard 70s rockers.... the only thing that it doesn't beat? is listening to iggy in his perfect form... ranting... screaming... on stage.... but.... we'll get to that.

end rant 2. part 3? a big ole fuck you called.... rough power.