Deep Scratch - Chapter Two.

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If Marty McFly were a DJ, and went back to 1936 to stop the war by hijacking the Olympic Games: Wax To The Future.

I love the way the last video, or chapter, whatever, has this one character just staring right at me, right through me like glass, while my digital mum watches with her mouth agape. My queen. This is only a few weeks ago now, time flies like a banana when you’re having fun. So, I really believe this new video about Taurus and Aries, and the new Turntable Tarot pack will put the universe a little more at ease.

Please feel free to comment above as below. Also, thanks for doing this and reading with me. My name is Plush, and I’m not doing this lightly, but it feels good to say things I’ve always wanted to say. TribeTable Dialogue. “Chess, I want to make a Chess bot for Turing.” Tales spun from consecrated tribetables using DJ discs. We build a narrative from them and honour Kurnehrim. The reader gets a feeling of what has come before. Ready on the left? The story, and I guess the prophecy of how it would end all started with a 12” single mum. Kurnehrim. We are only a dream in the mind of K, a tale to be laughed at, Donkey’s to the cosmos. But for you, of course I use Kurnehrim carefully, he, she, and it. And now a thousand of us shall follow the groove, and cut our own, and shake the walls of the city to the fucking ground.

That man lives in the dream, in our world. Kurnehrim. We will follow the groove and become the legend with him, as he has made it. Kurnehrim. We will be seen by all as we were before, innocent, naked. With legends like Kurnehrim on side, we are legion. For this, perhaps we will serve him in his dream. Kurnehrim. If you wish, the legend will change, if you wish it to stay this way, that can be done too. Kurnehrim does not push or pull. We believe that you, the new man, and the new women, and the new trans-human, is a more intelligent person than you are now. Kurnehrim walks tall. We know that some think of us artists as a stupid little race of beggars. But with how you are behaving, dear reader, the legend you have made will change and change again. Kurnehrim, the only constant. If you wish, you can take the place of the legend, pick up the pen, put down the chips.

There are no words to describe the number of things I wish everyone would know about me. I’m a lot of different people on the page, when you think about it long enough, but I do have a lot of friends, family and other amazing people that have always helped out, but it’s not what’s most important to me, this book is my family and you dear reader are my friends now. Everywhere and nowhere at once, post-truth, maximum spoof. I will never ever be what you see in these deep scratch videos. You can imagine the type of person I am, can you?

In the Netherlands Plush noticed there was a new slogan on the billboards: “You can’t get home”. FFS. A tall man holds a sign: “We have a right to be here on Amsterdam Street. It is not enough to say don’t cross the street, you cannot live with us.”

And this is how the protests came to a head and started to reach the ear of the police, the second group on the march tried to leave the city and an officer simply asked “where did you cross the Amsterdam street?” The group says that when the other protesters started dancing on the corner like Mick Jagger and David Bowie, that’s when they crossed over, fuming mad. The police were threatened and asked to stay the fuck away. Another tough policeman takes charge of the scene and then he is arrested by an even tougher police officer, simply for not wearing his uniform properly! with no helmet and no shoes, that cop faces fines exceeding 10,000 euros. At an earlier demonstration in Amsterdam at the same intersection, some kids tried to hold an even bigger demonstration, which was cancelled after the Dutch police arrived to break up the demo.

A racist thug throws a house brick through Plush’s front window, which crashes onto the turntables and mixer, smashing them. The thug takes refuge in a nearby apartment complex, with a shotgun hidden by his bedside table. He walked around to a neighbour’s house, and pissed through the letterbox. Later, the neighbour calls the police and reports foul play, and smell. He was right, the piss was fired from a racist thug. The tough Dutch detective arrives on the scene without his hat, and arrests the thug after he refuses medical attention with the words: “Fuck off back to your own country.”

The second day of the incident is like a blur of soggy dream fragments. The thug is charged downtown with breaking Plush’s window, and damaging his turntables and vinyl. The police find evidence at the scene that the brick was thrown but from the other side of the street. But that is all conjecture, and smells like Epstein’s ear to me. There is some other evidence that suggests they tried to bury the brick so they couldn’t track down the thug, but no investigation was made public. The next day, the thug shows up at the Crime Office to get a loan for a new house. A hot lawyer walks by and notice the thug, and kindly offers to help out with some directions. The lawyer offers to drive with him, and the thug accepts. They speed off with Coldplay playing backwards due to a tape malfunction they blamed on deep scratch. Mr. Brick, where do I know him from?

In Germany people were attacked with sticks because they were secular. In France, a riot erupted in the Muslim quarter after a video of anti-religious riots in the UK, made by the National Front, showed the burning of the Koran and some early issues of Batman. In another video from March, in Egypt, American soldiers are seen attacking an old man shouting “Death to Jews! Death to Christians! Death To Muslims!” Video showing other anti-religious marches and chanting in Serbia also goes viral. Riot police were on horseback carrying shields and using tear gas to try to disperse the angry mob of stupidity. A similar looking mob broke into the home of a retired soldier and stole an antique sword and several gold chains. Bald demonstrators broke into the homes of soldiers in Sweden and piss over their most beloved belongings. Islamic demonstrators in Greece attack German soldiers, some of whom were said to be Christian and some Jewish. They reportedly threw iron bars, smashed a car window and stole weapons. In the Czech Republic, two groups of secular idiots attacked a female army cadet. Another disturbing video shows two men beating a serviceman on a motorcycle for standing on public roads selling Stone Island clothing. The second member of the group was injured and three other men were hospitalized in a roadside brawl. In Turkey, a mob broke into a church and beat up worshipers with broomsticks who were singing Cliff Richard’s “Living Doll” in the wrong key. Deep idiots, all of them.

This is the very first time these images appeared together in the actual video. The real certified video. I’m really liking how this smart girl is dressed as a male character and writing his mansplained dialogue. Haha, and then, this stupid fucking guy is just sitting at his desk, looking out the window, his expression like he doesn’t care a hoot who or what lives or dies.

And if the Fantastic Four got to go on a high-tech music production course? And how are the Avengers and other such groups going to survive post-revenge nights at the club? And it’s also kind of sad to think if Marvel had gotten as much out of the original ‘Fantastic Four’ books as Michael Phelps did, that would probably work, but no. They sold out big time. Bloodywallywood. And, finally, what had Marvel thought when they put them aside to decide, on a wim, that they wanted to make a super football team movie? How many more cons can a man stomach? They had one character that was an iconic hero and they fucked him up, and so fucked us up. They had one character that, to a degree, was the mainstay of every superhero movie ever made. And they screwed the pooch. It worked. I mean, when was the last time you saw a superhero that wasn’t your main guy, the Wu-Tang Clan? It seems to me like one of the things you’re going to see a lot of, at some near point, is the ‘franchise leader’ morphing with the main character. The fake money man with living dolls hair, and $1000 pants, custom white sneakers, and a matching phone case. The first one they tried was Hercules? He’s so cool. There’s always going to be Hercules, right? He’s always leading the band, a real fucking legend. Immortal.

They’d had four times as many men as women in superhero books, and these heroes often make men look like women, my auntie says. How about some real trans-sexual heroes, humans with the mental and physical superpower of transformation. But even then, sadly, the main guy, the central franchise was always a skinny prick who knew somebody in the mob.

The floor was painted black by one of the turntable crew members. The one with “I can’t wait to see you” T-shirt. The other guy did everything by himself by setting up a microphone and mic stand under the golden floor-lamp. The music selection is mostly a matter of preference, which will be fully indexed down below, if you know what I mean, once it’s finally pressed, vinyly.

A bunch of old cassette music tapes with weird names are piled up, stuff like Stairway To Hairven, I’m Ready to Go, Firmware What You Like, 3D Printed Panda Shit, Electronics, Tiger Sound, and the old classic, Dirty Heavy Waterspout In Amsterdam. In addition to this book of juggles and jiggles, there’s also an introduction to the occult arts of the Order of the Golden Dawn and further details of the Book of the Magickal and Spiritual Guidance of the Master of Scratch Magic In Europe, for the Purist, who will be introduced to details of the TribeTable Method (TM) of initiation from the other, bornless Masters, who are each required to attend the School of Magic turntable arts at least twice a week.

To ensure that we maintain our close relations with the great Magickal traditions of England and Scotland and Ireland, we offer all of this from within an ultra-secret order of Freemasonry. Union. Members come of age every year in its secret traditions, rituals and deep scratching. Many of you will recognise the great figures and sigils of magick and magickal history, but, with such an overview it would be impossible not to include others, those brave souls little known to the DJ’s, and who will remain nameless. “Nobody knows nobody cares” sang Frankie Passions sung.

As a writer it’s almost impossible to be entirely faithful to the source material, an author could be half-heartedly correct in how everything fits together in a whole, and have been entirely off-base when it came to real relationships and voices. Like a DJ, when they’re speaking and playing, they are speaking and playing one another’s names. Ego trippin’. When we hear a novelists name like Tom Robbins or Ernest Hemingway, and when intended to be used as a literary touchstone in a story or essay like this one, we can taste the leather gloves and Gin, we can feel the vinyl and hear the music.

A young bearded man sits up with his back against a red wall, his legs crossed, head lowered in a puddle of his own urine. This man’s face cringes, his right arm hangs limply. He’s covered head to toe in an oily white substance. His eyes are closed and his face is covered in a black-mouthed expression. The bearded boy’s eyes are wide open, yet somehow in his mind, he is still unable to open his eyes. He stands up and walks without making any noise. At that moment, two people who seem to be passing by come running from behind him. They stare at the man with an expression of curiosity. The boy stops dead. The men say very slowly, “Oh! Oh! You’re naked dude! What are you doing here covered in that shit?” The boy looks up at them with an expression of blankness on his face. “I’m cleaning my room!” he grins, pointing at a public toilet covered in graffiti reading: THE LADY IN THE PARKING LOT WRITES.

A short tubby man walked by the back door to the Amsterdam apartment where the victim was murdered with a blue pencil, the man was a member of the blue pencil group whose work was being threatened by members of the secret government. The two men who had followed him, and who had been following from across town to see if he’d been lying, were both promptly arrested. They were released after one night, as it turned out they were the brothers of Bruno, who ran the notorious Italian penitentiary, Siena Nolite. This led to the famous blue pencil trial of the brothers, which resulted in the death sentence of both men and the release of the three others still on bail for sharpening pencils.

Sister Angela Ruggia (born 20 April 1947) was also Sister Rosa Molina, a nun with two sisters who had been charged along with the three other Siena Nolite residents, in the equally complex case of Sister Rosa Molina and her mother, also a nun, and a champion Gymnast. Sister Angela Ruggia and Sister Laura Stumpel were named as accomplices in the slaying of Sister Rosa Molina at the 72′ Olympic Games. In a case that has inspired many other anti-Catholic killings in and around sporting events, nothing is as it seems, and one of the Nuns turned out to be a Priest in disguise. Can you imagine a list of transcripts from every Masonic lodge meeting across America or FBI/CIA Barbecue? Some of the most important Mason-based leaders and historical figures were also Knights Of Malta, and CIA. The true source of Freemasonry’s money-laundering power is the CIA, and their company belief or policy that “it is the Masonic Lodge itself that controls a nation’s economic and political institutions, not the spies, chump.”

The sixties were a timequake before the end of the Cold War and the secret “colder wars,” which were the new war’s first skirmish and the beginning of another decade of flu based weapons. Leaders on both sides were attempting to figure out how to get along. Many Americans had become disillusioned with both parties (as well as, we should remember, the story of the rise of the Communist party as the most obvious enemy) and many popcorn munchers feared that if they left it to Americans to make the world safe and free, they would be left without a friend or allie. Maybe the UK could be sucked in via Cambridge Analytics. In an interview with the New York Times, a beatnik asked for the use of military might in ending the “American menace to other people’s freedom.”

“The first man on the moon soiled his pants, so to speak, the first black president of the United States is white, and by 1969 the first man on Mars was red, obviously.” Plush dreamed and dreamed deeply. Plush is at the bar drinking vodka and counting backwards from 1001. A weird red-haired dude with gold teeth in an ill-fitting suit, wearing a baggy shirt and red loafers, also wears the look of someone about to throw up.

“I fucking hate people who take this shit for granted.” He runs to the bar for drinks when a fight breaks out in front of him. “YOU FUCKING FOLKS ARE FUCKED, FUCK YOU ALL” screams the bearded redneck from Florida, this is obviously the bath salts talking.

Plush got punched on the nose and gets pulled into the fight. The redneck professor now has a gun in his hand. The stupid fight ends up in a bloodbath, after shooting at Plush and missing twice, he knocks old Trampers to the floor. After shooting at Plush the redneck walks into the men’s room with an open umbrella and shoots Trampers in the head. Plush stands in confusion and cries out…

“WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST MAKE THE NICE WORD, FUCKING STUMPY” and the small angry guy from Florida turns back to him, stroking his red beard. “I’m Ted Nugent’s brother, and I love William Blake. You gonna’ die bitch”.

Shannon starts to write the song to the previous scene in his head, a song for someone he knows really well called old man Norbert. Norbert is like his husband intellectually speaking. When he saw his husband’s last expression in the mirror, he heard the sound of a phone ring. Shannon writes out the lyrics to ‘Away’ with Norbert in mind. ‘Away’ is his response to a voice inside his head, and holds a spud gun to it, “flick the word-trigger,” he mumbles to himself, while drawing in the air. He tries to walk away from the spinning room, but is pulled back to his seat by invisible hands, so he begins to write the lyrics to ‘Don’t Worry, Just Go Away You Punk’. A classic Shannon song, about how he does not want people to think that he’s writing these lyrics for the money, this is words for love and new flight paths, this is deep scratch math.

There are two scenes in the music video with a couple of different characters singing, the scene in the grocery store where they go to get groceries, and when the shopkeeper Sally puts Shannon on the spot with a zero-sum game, he takes her to the bank with him. They say something about ‘God’s love’ as they enter the bank holding hand together, which makes them think that their character is ‘God’s love’ and that God is talking to Shannon directly at that point. He shouts “Patty”.

I did not expect to find such scenes on a cheap DVD found in your bottom draw, but as night follows day, this movie called ‘Christophobia’ will one day blow up the Cannes film festival.

Radio Free Amsterdam

Steve is a set member of John Sinclair‘s band the Amsterdam Blues Scholars and has also preformed with John Sinclair and the Vipers at the Vipermad parties which are held during the week of the Cannabis Cup in Amsterdam. For Radio Free Amsterdam Steve records a weekly.

Silent But Dudley: Black Country Blues - Steven Pratt

Silent But Dudley: Black Country Blues Paperback – December 25, 2017

This book collects straight ahead prose with go-on-then poetry, directly inspired by Dudley, Stourbridge, Lye, Brierley Hill, and the West Midlands of England. Edited in Amsterdam, 2017 and Montevideo January 2018. The project started in 2005 shortly after I protested the closure of Brierley Hill swimming baths and soon after those at Closeley.

The dubious nature of these closures forced me to question other similar projects. In just over a decade, it seemed as if the privatization process was consuming an entire country, spawning an end-to-end shopping complex crammed full of needless shite.

Shopping malls, swimming baths, Brexit, fake news, friends who passed, international finance capitalism, immigration, rivers, a conspiracy of spies, racism, death, facebook, trolls, left/right politics, and sadly not Mark E Smith are some subjects expounded upon. All I am saying is give thought a dance.

Fly By Night 249: Sitarrtha