The Hills Are Alive

Hee-Hawg Herman, formerly of the Gumdrop Soaps, sez:

“If you came here lookin’ to read about disgraced former major league pitcher Rick Camp, you are CHOCKED IN! OW!”

I’d post more often, but mercy day I’m tired.  The only people that check out the Hive of the Hee-Hawg are weirdos who are brought here by search engines and, I’m guessing, want to learn more about Rick Camp, whose doofus appearance I ridiculed when I posted scans of my baseball cards.

The ‘Rick Camp’ search engine thing happened so often, I had to check it out for myself.  It appears our loveable doofus, Rick Camp

“That’s me. DERP!”

(cont’d.) ran some nursing homes or mental institutions, embezzled $2 million from them, and served a year and a half in prison. I think people drop by the Hive of the Hee-Hawg because it’s not the Atlanta Journal-Constitution photos site, it’s not Wikipedia, and it’s not some message board where some angry tavern-goer a-froths at the mouth about getting shitty and short with Celebrity Athlete Booze Bag Rick Camp.

“Me? I never touch the stuff! DERP!”

So yeah, time’s at a bit of a premium here at the Hive.  I’ve been working with a new band.  We’ve got a demo we’re supposed to ‘leak’ out; all’s I can do to help ‘publicize’ the band is to make a video and post it on YouTube.  Half the band was part of a well-liked regional band that split up 3 years ago.  3 years is about the maximum time a ‘normal’ person who makes the ‘out of the ordinary’ choice to get involved in local live music can hang, if they aren’t going to make it, play it, or otherwise be a bartender, tattoo artiste, or some other demimonde.  It’s like Narnia time, local live music-world time it is. After about 3 years as purely an audience member, people feel the pull of the Real World and find out they’d achieve more in their real lives if they didn’t stay out so late during the work week.
So I made a video for our song to leak.  I recently read on the Kindle Fahr I Want My Mtv, a history of that network covering 1981-1991, or, for me, third grade thru senior year, maybe a semester or so of college.  There’s a reason videos aren’t shown in favor of reality programming, and that is because music videos became ridiculous.  So, the new band is called Hilljack Suicide and the new song is ‘The Sound of One Man Choking,’ and the ridiculous tropes are all courtesy of Use Your Illusion-era Guns and Roses.  Motorcycles flying off of cliffs, histrionic singers spluttering in and out of tubs, and wreckage.  There’s no creepy violence against women, though.  The Action Figure Theatre has emerged from the basement storage tubs and they are on the job.

General Grievous plays the lead singer. It’s because he’s the most poseable action figure ever made.

“Gimme a C. A bouncy C!”

F’igrin D’an plays a guitar.

“Don’t let the sun set on you in Tulsa….”

Count Dooku plays a guitar.

“…If the sun goes down on you…”

Holograph Count Dooku plays a guitar (my old Kay Speed Demon).

“…If you’re still here, YOU’RE GOIN’ DOWN, TOO!”

And Lego Thinly-Veiled Version of Evel Kneivel sits in on drums.

“What was that? About the drugs, I mean?”

So you’re frothing at the mouth to see this, right?

Remember, that’s H-I-L-L-J-A-C-K (SPACE) S-U-I-C-I-D-E.

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About rockiebee

Husband. Dad. Carpenter. Troubadour. Creative Director for an action figure theater troupe. Video director. Critic. Comics fan.
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