The Dark Clouds

“AFTER THE SUN” by THE DARK CLOUDS (-rocknroll rantage and review by Geordie Pleathur who don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows….)

“Business is money. Money is not friendly. Money is not nice. Money got no friends but more money.” (-John Steinbeck)

“There is a flat-out dishonesty to the term ‘Europe’s refugee crisis.’ As if the human tragedy was an event without causation or context. The story behind the gut-seizing, heart-shattering pictures of drowned children on Mediterranean beaches is not a complex one. The cause of these children’s deaths has a name: Western imperialism. And their killers have names and addresses. One of those names is Barack Obama. His administrations’ imperial machinations in Libya and Syria a…re the direct cause of the unforgivable deaths of these children.

Moreover, it is not a ‘complex’ situation, one fraught with historical entanglements and present day intangibles. Claiming so is nothing but pettifoggery. The situation comes down to this: The crimes of empire i.e., its imperative to plunder or perish. In short, drowned children are the direct consequence of keeping the lights on across the capitalist West.

The face of evil does not rant and snarl like a Hollywood Nazi. It is a bland, willfully ignorant countenance — fronting a banal mindset that accepts Western narratives. One that gazes upon the picture of a drowned toddler and does not insist on knowing the truth of how the tragedy came to be and hold those responsible accountable e.g., the war criminals Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton.” (-Phil Rockstroh)

“There is enough punishment in being un-housed, that we need not add more punishment to those, of our community, that are un-housed. (-Hedin Manus Brugh)

“When the time comes that we stand united under the banners of our causes instead of the banners of organizations behind those causes, when we march together as one instead of following icons, when we see at least so much value in listening to one another as being heard, and when we will take up the cause of another even though it is not our own simply because the greater cause is to end their suffering so we all stand stronger — then we will know real solidarity within our movements, and the aristocrat will be seen for the crude social implement that it is.” (-JD Morden)

“Culture is the rule, and art is the exception. Everybody speaks the rule; cigarette, computer, t-shirt, television, tourism, war. Nobody speaks the exception. It isn’t spoken, it is written; Flaubert, Dostoyevsky. It is composed; Gershwin, Mozart. It is painted; Cézanne, Vermeer. It is filmed; Antonioni, Vigo. Or it is lived, then it is the art of living; Srebrenica, Mostar, Sarajevo. The rule is to want the death of the exception. So the rule for cultural Europe is to organise the death of the art of living, which still flourishes.” (-Jean-Luc Godard)

“Play your own way. Don’t play what the public want. You play what you want and let the public pick up on what you doing–even if it does take them fifteen, twenty years.” (-Thelonious Monk)

“There are two parties, so-called, but they’re really factions of the same party, the Business Party. Both represent some range of business interests. In fact, they can change their positions 180 degrees, and nobody even notices.”   (-Noam Chomsky)

“I’d rather be a ‘purist’ than a sellout.” (-Cindy Sheehan)

“In such a world of conflict, a world of victims and executioners, it is the job of thinking people not to be on the side of the executioners.” (-Albert Camus)

“I have certain rules I live by. My first rule: I don’t believe anything the government tells me.” (- George Carlin)

“Trump personifies everything the rest of the world despises about America: casual racism, crass materialism, relentless self-aggrandizement, vulgarity on an epic scale. The fact that so many Republicans are comfortable with the thought of this monumentally unqualified man in the Oval Office shows how warped the party has become.” (-Paul Thomas)

“Do some selfless service for people who are in need. Consider the whole picture, not just our little selves. (- Nina Hagen)

“What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.” (- Albert Pike)

“Living a middle-class life is an impediment to meaningful change. We are taught that we have everything we should dare to expect and capitalism has “worked” for us. Middle-class people are also urged to hate poor people, and those who cannot or will not work. They are the ‘other,’ the moocher class. Poor people are the reason you haven’t gotten a raise in five years or that your house is worthless or that your company only gives you one week off a year. Those who have something detest those with nothing. We’re letting rich people get away with fleecing America, while turning our rage on poor people” (-Edwin Lingar)

“I’m still taking things easy, but I just had to comment a moment on the loudmouthed evil bastard that is Donald Trump. Trump believes that we need a stronger military and endorses killing those who disagree with us. If Trump really believes that war is the answer to breakdowns of diplomacy, let him put his sons in uniform and send them into harm’s way with the rest of the troops. He has taught his children that it is okay to shoot animals that don’t shoot back, but will he teach them to get down with the grunts and fight? I met Trump at the Playboy Mansion ten or so years ago, and he did nothing but stare. Every time Trump speaks it becomes clear that he is merely a bully with a fat ass, bad hair, and a mouth like a chicken’s asshole, who has never done anything except turn billions into more billions, and pats himself on the back for it because he believes it qualifies him to be president. I hope that everyone sees how hollow, shallow, and truly un-American Trump is. He is an anti-middle class windbag who only appeals to the greedy, ignorant, and foolish.” (-Mamie Van Doren)

“Looking at the posts that flow through my Facebook it becomes clear the the issues of homelessness and gentrification are not very high on many people’s list of concerns, the political ones that is. The others that are not all that political well it isn’t even on their radar. It doesn’t seem to be a high priority on Bernie Sanders or his supporters lists either. Oh well it could be you next and the ones who definitely care are those who either have been or are homeless because they know the pain of living without a home.” (-John Penley)

“Blacklisting is the most serious ‘color of law’ crime using this technology without judicial warrants. The goal of blacklisting is to punish citizens without charge, trial, judge or jury. Since these are illegitimate cases the citizens can’t be ‘confronted’ since there is no crime and no wrongdoing. How it works: if a citizen writes a ‘Letter to the Editor’ (legal 1st Amendment exercise) which the government bureaucrat or their contractors dislike, those citizens are placed on terrorist watchlists. If that citizen travels across country, he or she is harassed by authorities from each and every locality (from the Barney Fifes to professional cops) each time their blacklisted cell number pings a cell tower. In other words a lifetime punishment and lifetime harassment for non-crimes and non-wrongdoing under the guise of fighting the War on Terror. Since the goal is NOT arrest, judges can’t police the police – plaintiffs have a near impossible task of proving legal standing in court.” (-Ross Bailey)

“Don’t believe them, they’re lying – they’re all lying, the political system is lying, the military system is lying, the economic system, the religious system, they are all lying. Be careful who you believe. Think more – believe less.” 
(- John Trudell)

“Headline: ‘Study of Holocaust survivors finds trauma passed on to children’s genes. New finding is first example in humans of the theory of epigenetic inheritance: the idea that environmental factors can affect the genes of your children’.

Being the child of a mother who escaped Nazi Germany on a Kindertransport and who had been present when the Gestapo arrived at their Berlin residence, arrested her father, and escorted him to a concentration camp and a father born on an Indi…an rez, since early childhood, deep within my own DNA, I knew the fact to be true.

As a small child, I’m told, without adult prompting, I would weep tears of outrage when being driven through the impoverished, segregated, African American neighborhoods of my native, late Jim Crowe era Birmingham, Alabama. Even then, I staged verbal insurgencies into comfort zones admonishing racist adults that their hateful attitudes was a sin.

I believe my over-sized vocabulary and early verbal tenacity helped me endure the atavistic stress woven into every fiber of my being. In a time when existence’s stresses include a knowledge of the ongoing and exponentially increasing rate of global ecocide and the ceaseless, murderous degradations of Western, White supremacist capitalism and attendant militarism don’t expect me to zip my impertinent gob anytime soon.” (-Phil Rockstroh)

“Power intoxicates men. It is never voluntarily surrendered. It must be taken from them.” (– James F. Byrnes)

“ The American Empire is in decline. Our market-driven culture is in decay. The criminal justice system has failed us. And the political system is collapsing due to the weight of corrupt lobbyists and greedy capitalists. Only organized power of courageous and compassionate people can turn around these catastrophic realities. Social movements in the streets and jails over against the Establishment in both decrepit political parties are fundamental. And prophetic politicians — always with their faults and blind spots — who tell the truth about Wall Street, white supremacy, empire, patriarchy and homophobia, deserve our critical support. Yet even more important is the issue of integrity.

Brother Bernie and Brother Trump are authentic human beings in stark contrast to their donor-driven opponents. Yet only Bernie has authenticity and integrity, whereas Trump is for real but not for right. Trump’s attacks on precious Mexican brothers and sisters are unconscionable — even as his blessed mother was born in Scotland and grandfather (Mr. Drumpf) was born in Germany. His kind of nativistic hostility could have excluded them. And Trump’s unpatriotic complicity with the plutocratic corruption of our political system for over 30 years calls into question his integrity, including his commitment to ‘make America great again.’

My endorsement of Brother Bernie in the primaries is not an affirmation of the neo-liberal Democratic Party or a downplaying of the immorality of the ugly Israeli occupation of Palestinians. I do so because he is a long-distance runner with integrity in the struggle for justice for over 50 years. Now is the time for his prophetic voice to be heard across our crisis-ridden country, even as we push him with integrity toward a more comprehensive vision of freedom for all.” (-Dr. Cornel West)

“We live in a culture characterized by what Benjamin DeMott called ‘junk politics.’ Junk politics does not demand justice or the reparation of rights. It always personalizes issues rather than clarifying them. It eschews real debate for manufactured scandals, celebrity gossip and spectacles. It trumpets eternal optimism, endlessly praises our moral strength and character, and communicates in a feel-your-pain language. The result of junk politics is that nothing changes, meaning zero interruption in the processes and practices that strengthen existing, interlocking systems of socioeconomic advantage.” (-Chris Hedges)

“We don’t care who you are. Ebenezer or Mother Theresa. You’re all going under the thunder…” (-The Dark Clouds)


We were dastardly, bastardly, blunt, upfront, and none of those characteristics made us very popular with the small town’s private school Fauntleroy country club crowd who expected us to pledge to their pocket of piss fraternities. They were very accustomed to even the weekend spare changers and faceless underling NPC’s sucking up to them for the privilege of being punched in the eye, washing their dishes, taking out their trash, tending their bars, sweeping their floors, buying their drugs, applauding their mediocre bands, or being allowed to play at the clubs and restaurants they inherited. Some of the smartest, most talented people I’d ever known were blacklisted from jobs, ignored by the local music press, hassled by authoritarian screws, just totally denied access to all resources, mainly for refusing to kowtow to the smalltown’s Korrupt Kocaine Kowboys. Some absolutely epic talents are dead and gone, mostly unrecognized by a needlessly brutal society that only recognizes privilege and conformity. Years later, and the same shit is happening to everybody, everywhere, on an epic scale. The assholes with the money are fucking everybody over, the followers are enabling them, as usual–hoping for some pat on the head, drunken bang, or desperate crumbs, and only ending up under heavy boot of gestapo, the dummies all compete to work as bully enforcers, and spies are hand picked from the smartest college kids. The fascists hate anyone who stands for freedom. They hate anyone who thinks for themselves. That’s what the marketing arts are all about-using your fear and desire and sports team identification and hometown superstitions against you. They wanna rip out all your unique experience and wit and insight and higher impulses and deepfry it and sell it to white college women with pickles and fries in waffle cones with gravy. The media whores are unforgivable sellouts pushing an Islamaphobic war on Muslim nations and racist austerity agenda with their panopticon surveillance state and consumption culture of non stop bullshit distraction. We’re all refugees, except the super rich, who own the land and politicians and police and private prison plantations. You’re a migrant-laborer if you have to move to find work. That’s why they wanna tell you about the excessive lifestyles of the Jenner-Kardashian-Wests and Taylor Swift and Dave Grohl and Miley Cyrus some more, to distract you from the bloody business of empire. Every bank is a bloodbath. Every million dollar bar is 1000 musicians and artists squeezed out of the old neighborhood. Everytime that refugee babies, fleeing horrors of war, wash up on a beach, media goes into overdrive to divide humanity with the same old gay marriage and gun control distractions, sex scandals, and celebrity feuds, fear of the symbolic other, porn, and sports. Wars are “over there” somewhere, and tv does not even show the video game blips and fireworks of the embedded media’s “Shock & Awe” propaganda campaign from Dick Cheney’s early reign. It’s all invisible regime change dirty war fought by masked proxy boogeymen and hired corporate mercenaries. I understand why people with disabilities or illnesses; or people caring for children or the elderly; or people in recovery; or people living in rural Alaska, benefit from a social media network, but I can’t imagine why anybody with wheels and money and mobility would be glued to their texting gadget even while driving, or at the museum, or show, or camping, or coffee house. Anytime I ever peeped in on people I knew in previous decades, it’s always been a big letdown to see how they’ve become sports watchers, Miley Cyrus listeners, Kanye apologists, racist cop worshippers, pro war, or chumps for racist blowhard billionaire bullies like Trump—-Trumpers. Working class grunts and plump humps for drunk uncle, Trump. His campaign song oughta be “My Lovely Lady Lumps”. Trump’s Murkkka is a nice place to grow tumors, if you like giant walls, paying five grand a month for a dump, and seeing innocents beaten savagely by uniformed men. It’s a bummer to recognize how easily baffled former classmates are by uniforms, large vehicles, fake boobies, overpriced annual dope parties in the desert, and talk radio. They all become their Republican fathers and want to befriend the Botox bimbos and big belligerent bullies. They weren’t even the jocks, per se–these were the wannabe jocks, the benchwarmers and the non cheerleader broads who were picked on by the mean girls, still scrambling in their middle age to win some high school popularity contest, they wanna BE the mean girls. It’s really unbecoming. At best, they became chubby Mike Ness clones with wife beaters and shorts and own classic cars and jukeboxes and shit with their Black Cat Thirteen tattoo shop money and want to tell your wife about how much they benchpressed at the gym, and how famous they are at N.A. meetings for their irrepressible personality and Johnny Cash tattoo and fight stories from the Zero Zero back in 1983, and do you want to hear them read from their memoir and maybe snap a selfie. You know–the dudes with the distinctively nice hats who own trendy clothing boutiques with their Etsy wives, and Artisanal Cheese Lodges, who can afford to buy Niagara’s paintings, and organize twelve piece, ruffly shirted, gypsy orchestras with washboards and banjos and tour buses and shit. I always see them bearded with manbun hipster gentrification people in Clash and Exploited t shirts that say “RIOT” and “CHAOS” and “ANARCHY”, unicycling in tiaras on their cheerful way to overpriced wristband festivals, when what their shirts really oughta say is shit like: “ORDER”, “HIGHLY-ORGANIZED”, “OBEDIENCE”, “RULE FOLLOWER”, “LICENSED”, “OFFICIAL”, “APPROVED”, “SOCIAL CLIMBER”, “POPULAR”, “TATTLE-TALE”, “FASCIST”, “PEOPLE PLEASER”, or “HIERARCHY”. I mean every town has those annoying legions of flame tattooed Ness Clones with the 12 piece faux bluegrass bands and ZZ Top beards and the come-lately fake Tom Waits fetishes. They’re hipster Republicans-racist squares with monster model collections and electric automobiles and solar powered homes and medical Marijuana cards, who detest the unkempt outsider poor–they all have like an article of clothing one can’t help but admire, or a vintage banjo, but they’re still not typically someone you’d wanna talk to, it’s like listening to an eighties wrestler brag. Libertarian Collectors who just wanna tell you more about their fucking car collection and their wife with the Betty Page bangs’ newest tit job and trendy gluten allergies. They all tell women, “You can do better”, which never means, learn sculpture, or join the Peace Corps., or write a book, or anything, it’s just code for leave your under-achieving partner and get the boob job and marry the jarhead with the big white truck. The big white truck is the answer, they swear. All of life is supposed to be a barter between the spray-tanned boob job and the big white truck. At the sports bar with the chicken wings. “We’re #1! USA! USA!”

Okay, one kid I made comicbooks with when we were really, really young, he was a golf-shirt prep whose rich, local, aristocrat mom forbade him from hanging around me, he went to college and owns an advertising firm in Detroit, and NOW, pushing fifty, he’s gone goth! At last! In his old age! It’s sweet, really–he dyes his hair black and wears ghoul makeup and takes his guitar playing daughter to Marilyn Manson and Motley Crue concerts, and in my heart, I smiled a little bit. ’cause I was the one at that awful jock school, who paved the way for his kid. I frequently got humiliated and bloodied when I looked like Beetlejuice, way back when we were teens and he was an absolutely obedient honor roll conformist country club kid in a Polo shirt with the collar turned up and boat-shoes and some designer jeans and a cheerfully acquiescent smile. A hand raiser. A Swatch watch wearer.  A participator. An eager beaver apple polishing eraser banger. The yearbook committee. NOW, he’s death rock depressed? All that property and prestige has made him sad? That is what middle class hierarchies are all about-you can be as arty and eccentric and death rock, as you want, but only AFTER you have a buncha money. That kid always had money, so I don’t know why it took him until he was 46 to discover the joy of Joy Division t shirts, but God bless him. God love ‘im, better late than never. His little kid’s a pre teen star, might end up becoming a mainstream celebrity music product, one day, with his stage managed backing and her Anime eyed Manga moody cuteness. I wish them well, everybody else I went to school with is like, either so overweight as to be unrecognizable, or still, just…insufferably horrid. Hunting pictures, gold jewelry, pick-up trucks, Guido man-nipple mook shirts like those musclebound guys from the Jersey Shore…Jager bombs, jello shots, cologne stinky meatheads calling themselves “playas”, shrieking over-perfumed bleached blonde secretaries in high heeled packs of threes, skiing vacations, that kinda shit. People who like Donald Trump are usually just racist, but some of them worship money so unconditionally, they love him just for having it. Like with people who admire Madonna, or Martha Stewart, or John Gotti, or stockbrokers, or that hedge fund dick who raised the price of a pharmaceutical from thirteen bucks to eight hundred. Ghastly sociopaths are rewarded in the police states of fascism. Plenty of pinky ringed fortunate son types think of themselves as cool and tough when they are merely mean and rich. Take away their credit cards and tanning beds and dry-cleaners and they are lost. Big fish in small ponders are notorious for going to any lengths to silence defiance and non compliance and what gentrification does in the big cities, is turns affordable working class neighborhoods, art ghettos, and bohemian enclaves into prohibitively expensive and over policed small towns. Elitist bubbles for rich people, some of whom have tattoos. Back to high school. AGAIN! FAAACK! Gentrification’s starlets are killin’ rocknroll some more. No wonder anybody with any scratch at all is abandoning the bigtowns and settin’ up shop in the deep woods. Keep your hookah lounges, and jack-booted gentrification-squads, the real people will just go back to the back porch, the bonfire, the musty basement, stayin’ in and makin’ shit at home, with glue-stick and tape recorders, like we always did. Some people got heart so they make cool stuff, and do cool stuff, while others just have money so they buy cool stuff. Pu-tay-toe, tuh-mah-toe, let’s call the whole thing a monument to lost causes and what could have beens. Greed ain’t good, kiddies, greed sucks, greed kills, greed sucks the cool out of everything, and everybody, and spits it out the window at the grizzled veteran with the wet cardboard sign. “Get a job”. It never gets old, does it? What assholes.

Had a kid’s book way back in the 1970′s about a boy who wanted to move to Australia. It’s like, I can dig it, ya know? Just thinkin’ about AC/DC, Beasts Of Bourbon, Rose Tattoo, Powder Monkeys, the Scientists, the Cruel Sea, the Divinyls. All the best rocknroll comes from Australia. Obviously, they ain’t perfect over there, as they’re also allowing Draconian NWO police state laws to pass and they also treat their indigenous people like shite, but something about Australia allows for exceptionally great music, ya know?


These dudes call themselves The Dean, The Thunder, The Lightning, The Deluge, and The Rain, and it’s no joke-they bring the storm. Opener, “The Study Of Ill Vex”, is power pop excellence, ala 38 Special, or the Dwarves, with a funny lyric about patriotism, nationalism, racism, narccissism that you wish Angry Anderson would take to heart, this stuff is very reminiscent of Detroit’s the Mutants, or Paul Collins the Beat, very seventies sounding. Cool! “Mother Earth” rocks like crazy, it’s an absolute stomper like the Angels, or American Heartbreak with catchy, melodic guitars and a cool lyric that reminds me of Norway’s Lordsy goth greats, Silver, or Finland’s finest hard rock legends, Smack. If any of youse guys are old enough to remember Uncle Sam, or their boss spin-off gang from Rochester-the Veins, it’s heavy and dark like that. Essentially, it’s about how nasty and barbaric and fuckedup things are and how one’s worldly salvation can only be found in the arms of a loved one. We don’t really have no shredding rocknroll like this in the Police States of Amerikkka no more, mainly, ’cause nobody has surplus income for rehearsal space rentals, or studio time, so it’s all just wimpy rich kids playing disco robot. This totally surpassed my expectations, it’s REALLY good. “Miley”-man, this guitar player’s relentless, in league with the Hellacopters, Backyard Babies, Trash Gallery, Dr. Boogie, and all your fave rocknroll heroes. Dark Clouds best songs are like AC/DC meets the Hollywood Brats in Spencer P. Joneses beer stained basement, just pure rocknroll dynamite like Electric Franksenstein beating up Buck Cherry. If you’re a grizzled old freak like me, this is what you want your music to sound like. “Lilac Dress” is an urgent onslaught of Johnny Thunders/Joey Pinter/Chuck Berryisms and another brisk melody, you know the kind you always wish you still heard on the radio in your vintage sparkly blue Transmaro with the once-white, fuzzy seat covers and the Rolling Stones tongue air-freshner and the welded chain steering-wheel parked at the Big Boy with the talk boxes where they still have the rollerskating ladies who bring your onion rings out to you in the parking lot. I think it’s about making love to some hot blonde while listening to the Flamin’ Groovies. Lazy Cowgirls fans will love this album. When I first saw the sleeve-art, I was expecting something more maudlin and downbeat like say, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry-portents of gloom and doom, not this surprisingly bubblicious and exuberent celebration of hot pants and power chords that reminds me of the Dictators, Supersuckers, everybody who really rocks with real gusto from the heart. “After The Sun” is still another hit, these barn burning Aussie motherfuckers don’t let up with the raw-knuckled, pinball summer retro badass motherfuckery. This is music for old school, old timers–vicious old geezers who hate techno and neutered dork culture. Mousepad Muzak beardo hipsters will run, fleeing. If you wanna scare the Gentrification Kiddies with the stoopid facial hair and jeggings and gadgets and mama’s money card, just turn this shit up and open the window, they will scram. I think “The Letter G” is probably an anecdote about something that happened in the eighties. Me, I can’t remember anything much about that decade-it’s all a blur of funny hats and hairspray, promiscuity, Ant Music, blue eyeshadow, and black labels. “Soul Man” is the evil slow jam you were waiting for and it reminds you of 69 Eyes’ early sleaze and the Seeds’ sixties acid punk. “Little Devil” is greased lightnin’ comicbook metal like Iggy Pop’s “Instinct”, or Steve Jones’ “Fire & Gasoline”. Pure energy, revved-up, fast and furious, ballsout powerful, hoodlum thunder, raw food, bad fun, full of life, wide awake, speed punks on a black vinyl, black leather, splayed legged, fountain of youth trip. Whiskey hijinks, backyard gunplay, old friends, Tennessee fireworks, loud volume, big laughs, bad kids grown up hard. These guys ain’t fuckin’ around. This is real rocknroll for real rocknrollers. Love it to death. Makes me wanna quit my job and move to the forest and play harmonica.


SPORTS & WEATHER:…/a-new-chapter-in-the-fascist…/




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