Dirty Deeds

Lots of varied things have happened lately.

Do you ever get disoriented in a way that lasts more than a full day?  I think Memorial Day weekend is a good time to lose your mind.  Luckily enough for me, my birthday comes built in to the holiday just about…every year of my life.

Whether it’s genetic or not, when I really enjoy drinking it tends to be with large quantities of beer, and this was anything but the exception.  When you have birthdays that end in round numbers, it’s doubly essential to leave restraint at home in your purse, and drink out of very very large mugs, and clink them together with excessive, jubilant smiles.

To get to the point I reached up and spun that big wheel on my brain Friday Night, won the big boat from Bob Barker, and didn’t really find my proper brain until this afternoon when I finally tricked myself into downloading some AC/DC onto my phone and going for a run.  And I was–

BAM!!!

You guessed it…Thunderstruck.

So when I was young, like say thirteen, fourteen, my parents went on a date out of town, and had left this new “some assembly required” entertainment center kind of half opened.  I have always had a prurient interest in building things, particularly if the job is unreasonably laborious, and the alternative is staring at a pile of unfinished nonsense in an otherwise orderly world.  Also conveniently, SHAKA ZULU had just started on AMC, and unbeknownst to me, SHAKA ZULU is a five hour frigging mini series.  I was two hours into building the entertainment center, and the movie before Shaka was even being portrayed by the adult actor.  So eventually my parents come home, entertainment center built and they look at me all like “What?” and basically all I say is “Shaka Zulu is a long fucking movie.”  Pretty awesome, too actually if you have any interest in Africa, military history, pith helmets, witch doctors, or really really stern expressions.

Over the next few years, my parents populated this entertainment center with laserdiscs. LASER. DISCS.  Jurassic Park, Home Alone, Legend, The Lost Boys, The Reflecting Skin, Abyss, there were a lot of great movies put on those huge, shiny donuts you had flip at intermission.  There was one disc my Dad picked up that had a really giant effect on me though, and that was AC/DC:  Live at Donington, which still remains about one of the greatest concert videos of all time.

Thousands and thousands of those sweaty British metal kids in black tshirts chant and grimace in anticipation in front of the biggest stage you’ve ever seen as the sun is setting on their wanting faces.  Suddenly, the soundtrack of isolated thunder rolls through the crowd.  Is it a storm?  No, it’s the one single piece of artifice that AC/DC allows their shows, and the crowd roars as the drummer sits his bald gleaming head at his black mega basses, and tick tick tick ticks back at the crowd’s chants of “AN-GUS! AN-GUS! AN-GUS!” when finally, he appears, that middle aged boy-man in the school boy shorts and newsie cap, reptile-veined fingers coiled around his patented vermillion, lucifer-horned guitar and then he does this thing.  He does this thing, until you’ve seen it it doesn’t make sense, and it sounds like Mozart started partying with Sean Penn and Nick Nolte and got a wicked idea at six in the morning.  Angus does this thing, where he cranks up his levels to eleven and then just plays the frets…he just fingers with both hands and the sound is this wiggling riff that reaches down from the sky and taps the heels of his perfectly polished oxford shoes onto the gaff taped mark on the stage that in the ancient language of the roadie reads “the devil stands here, and he fucking rocks”.

Just then, the backup members of the band start with this low, melodic moan, a noise a gallery of satyrs might make while prancing around a big ceremonial fire, and then they add “Thun-der!  Thun-der! Thun-der!”, and bulldog-faced singer Brian Johnson (who replaced original singer Bon Scott who was legally reported to have suffered “death by misadventure”) uncorks his whiskey-power drill of a voice and the rhythm guitar and drums smash you like the hammer Mjolnir and Angus starts doing the Chuck Berry duckwalk all over this monster stage (AC/DC is, after all, essentially a southern blues/soul/rock band), and in my thirteen year old mind all I know is these guys are old, and dirty, and badly behaved, and Beavis loves them, and they’re obviously doing some awesome shit in their downtime that is the kind of stuff that I want to be doing when I’m old enough to be crusty and hang out with girls in halter tops.

And all this imagery piled on top of me while I was running and the weekend was sweating out of the negative space between a million freckles, and my feet pounded the pavement and–

THUN DER!

I saw my Dude, now is name was Franklin, no Frankie, in the online video game which needs an identity of its own, and shall be called ENGINES OF VICTORY, and will be more seige and army based than WoW, and will have more Steampunk elements like trains and blunderbusses and shit–

THUN DER!

He’s in full digital battle regalia, shackled in the throne room of the evil villain, at the climax of the film where everything has taken a turn for the worse, Frankie powerless without the help of his magical guitar-which-is-also-a-warhammer–

THUN DER!

But in the real world some key alliances that Frankie has made through pure goodheartedness will help him by showing up at the doorstep of the third party goons who have betrayed him and stolen his in game magical weapon–

THUN DER!

and suddenly it will appear strapped to his back and he will smash through his chains and start rending the holy bejeezus out of everything in sight.

 

So what do we think about “Engines of Victory” for a new title? 

 

Thunderstruck by AC/DC: 

I was caught
In the middle of a railroad track (Thunder)

And I knew there was no turning back (Thunder)
My mind raced
And I thought what could I do (Thunder)
And I knew
There was no help, no help from you (Thunder)

Sound of the drums
Beatin’ in my heart
The thunder of guns
Tore me apart
You’ve been – thunderstruck

Went down the highway
Broke the limit, we hit the town
Went through to Texas, yeah Texas
And we had some fun
We met some girls
Some dancers who gave a good time
Broke all the rules, played all the fools
Yeah, yeah, they, they, they blew our minds

I was shakin’ at the knees
Could I come again please?
Yeah the ladies were too kind
You’ve been – thunderstruck, thunderstruck
Yeah yeah yeah, thunderstruck

Oh, thunderstruck
Yeah

Now we’re shaking at the knees
Could I come again please?

Thunderstruck, thunderstruck
Yeah yeah yeah, thunderstruck
Thunderstruck, yeah, yeah, yeah

Said yeah, it’s alright
We’re doing fine
Yeah, it’s alright
We’re doing fine
So fine

Thunderstruck, yeah, yeah, yeah,
Tunderstruck, thunderstruck, thunderstruck
Whoa baby, baby, thunderstruck
You’ve been thunderstruck, thunderstruck
Thunderstruck, thunderstruck
You’ve been thunderstruck

 

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