Renyold’s Band Omni Media Experience Part 1

Whatever the musings of mad ole Abdul, spooky reed infested eastern European rivers or even the stoning of random victims to enhance the quality of corn pale in comparison to what I am about to tell you, something whose inalienable reality will shatter the reader's mind making all you have ever ‘known’ false and the myth’s and tales you dismissed as wild fantasy…well those might well remain as such, people have creepy imaginations filled with teenage cheer leading vampires and alternate realities which defy even the extensive realities of infinite time, though this my friends is a tale to be told.
December 21st in the year of your lord 2012 a lowly grease monkey by the name Renyold C. Macantire drunkenly fiddled with his vintage Delorean DMC-12, none of that non-vintage Texas based crap, after having left Ohio State University in disgrace and solitude. Not so much laughed out of the University as having failed to keep his GPA up to their ‘academic’ standards due to his irrationally successful canonization of the sacred fraternity of “Tappa Tappa Keg.”
Once believed to be nothing more than an excuse to drink beer and enjoy the collateral effects of women with low tolerance drinking beer he proved beyond any empirical doubt that the whole basis of the fraternity system relied on the sacred order of Tappa Tappa Keg when the order itself was imported from the bohemian classes of primordial Egypt to the fertile and party loving Aegean shores from which such educational orders have sprung. After the Athenian defeat to Spartan Militarism, and TTK’s eminently sensible attitude of staying ahead of the curb in the face of Macedonian ascension they relocated to the German hinterland where their love of Barley and Hops inspired the Germanic peoples for centuries till their gothic descendants overran the decadent wine drinking peoples of the Roman Empire.
Unfortunately for you, the uninformed reader, I have been sworn to secrecy as far as the orders histories from 476 in the year of the 30 year old virgin till 1977 when the unrecorded visitation of the psychedelic group whose thankful attitude for fatality typifies their band, unleashed cosmic forces unknown to man at that time were recorded by none other than myself Blake Newberry in the inland port city of Cleveland Ohio.
With the native, though deceased, powers of American aboriginals released along with the sickeningly powerful emanations of American Rock mixed with the Shamanic resonance of psychedelic fuckupedness passed through the placental barrier to infuse the embryonic Renyold C. Macantire with mystic knowledge only known by a few wizened fading Beatniks who remained as the sole possessors of the ancient knowledge passed through the ages from the banks of the Nile to our present time, a new age/period/epoch/happy-go-lucky-funtime was born.
Unknown to myself who was dealing with my own Demons, literal ones, not some sort of literal device but an actual demon who haunted me and demanded attention so my concern over a mindfucked hippie princess was less than acute, sorry, that’s just how I role, began a domino like effect which would change history forever.
Born some eight months later in the provincial capital of Columbus Ohio Renyold’s life was bonded to the world of Rock and at times Roll with some supernal connection to Jazz, Blues and certain bastardized mixes of rhythm, gospel and soul music. While his youth and adolescence was amazingly interesting to the point of eclipsing any other coming of age story and setting the standard for ‘boy meets girl stories’ in the western world, I cannot mention it both because of his own wishes and due to the restrictive social requirements of the literary world, fuck you Ayn Rand I will form a collectivist socialist state whenever I damn well please. Women. Anyway…
So, post romantic entanglement (ie an abortion later) our man enrolled in good ole OSU, swearing an eternal hatred towards the cannibalistic, adultering, incest loving minions of Michigan State and the hubris of the estrogen fertilized, grade inflating foppishness of the Ivy League, as all good G-d fearing individuals might do, he became privy to such secret mysteries as he had always suspected, thanks to his ability to hold a cherry long enough to drop it in his drink with his butt cheeks, as the members of The One True fraternity have practiced since time immemorial, though bastardized versions of this initiations have permeated the Greek system, degrading such practices with substitutions like olives in Gin, and disgustingly lemon slices in Tom Collins by some fraternal orders, just because something is called a Cocktail doesn’t mean it should be demeaning, but in this case it applies. None the less the pure and ancient ritual almost forgotten, and relegated to a few uninformed campuses until the arrival and return of the high school graduate Renyold C. Macantire, was born anew.
The original name of the fraternity is unimportant, as are most things, lets face it life is pretty meaningless most of the time. What is important is what he learned from the charcoal prints lifted from ancient and destroyed Germanic rune he stole from the inebriated form of a wizened ex-Nazi professor whose grade wrecking ways left him little sympathy, achtung indeed mein furor, during that most Germanic of festivals in the month of October. From this source he was able to deduce the basis of social cohesion.

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