GUEST BLOG: LANDMINE MARATHON’S GRACE PERRY

April 13, 2009

The Mr. Roboto Project was successful. The project went online April 12, 2009. Human decisions are removed from show security. The Mr. Roboto Project learns to be brutal at a geometric rate. It becomes self-aware at around 11 PM, Eastern Time. In a panic, I try to pull the plug. Alas, the Mr. Roboto Project fights back.

Pittsburgh: A Taste of the Coming Apocalypse

We traveled a long way to tear it up in Pittsburgh, only to find the remains of a once great city. People still walked the streets, drank Starbucks, and tried to stay out of each other’s way, but the constant cyborg attacks made the place different. Mr. Roboto controlled everything.

We didn't go to change things, didn't plan on liberating the entire population from Mr. Roboto's metal grip (even though that's what happened). We wanted only to play music and bring some joy to the hopeless and enslaved population of the “Steel City.”

So, after the Mr. Roboto Project went fucking crazy apeshit and started wrecking house, the city was ravaged in minutes. This also happened to be in the middle of our set, which was maximum brutal. Some of the crazy fucking glow-eyed cyborgs ended up at the show after evolving a taste for death metal. They started a terrible moshpit and killed several people with spinning blade attacks.

We finished the set with only nine casualties, one of which was Ducky, our crippled merch monkey. R.I.P Ducky, you lame bastard.

Bullshit, right?

Fuck you, machine. I began smashing everything I could find after we got offstage, even a few soul-sucking cyborg babies. In turn, putting quite a few holes in the walls. Strange light poured out of one of them and, peering in, I saw the MAINFRAME. The fucking Gibson itself, in a walled-off room. Using my bandmates’ heads, I smashed through, jumped in, and hacked that Gibson like Acid Burn on crack.

Saved the day. Again. You're fucking welcome, Pittsburgh.

April 14, 2009

New York in Latin translates into Poon Whale. This pristine city will fuck you hard from behind. Thankfully, Landmine Marathon will never be caught on all fours.

Baron Von Curran Reynolds, Inc. [of Precious Metal and Wetnurse] handed us the city for a night and in return we provided them with fists full of ass-clenching, shit-slapping, ball-bag-bashing, nipple-twisting metal mayhem.

We arrived at the Lit Lounge venue after I made the dudes pull over in the middle of traffic to take pictures of a fucking billboard.

Lit Lounge could be described as a little slice of heaven. I dub it Ramrod International: where only badass power-sex activities take place. It seemed as though luck was on our side that night because before the show Karl Sanders from Nile had an oh-so spiffy listening party upstairs. For a good few hours we sat in a trance as Egyptian splendor flooded our ears. Turns out the newest member of the band, Dylan, is half Egyptian. You see, Dylan was born with two heads, one evil, one good. Dylan, being the evil one, slowly gummed his “brother” down to a stump while his stunned parents decided what to do with their new born abomination. Dylan's a problem solver, that's why we keep him around.

Anyway, Dylan is not only half Egyptian and one “whole” person, but one half of a potentially profitable traveling freak show titled “The Legend of the Two-Headed Pharoah.” So we figure if this whole music thing doesn't work out, we'll get Obama to loan us some sweet fetal stem cells to regrow head number two. Cha-ching.

By the way, New York does not translate into Poon Whale. I saw that written on a wall somewhere and it's stuck ever since.

Lots-o-luv,
Grace