pb

i've found my new love interest. she comes to me to enlighten, fulfill, beautify, and enpassion my life in May of this year, gods be praised:


TOOL RECORD MASTERED
Salma stopped dancing on January 29th. The next morning the members of the band flew to Portland, Maine to have the record mastered by Bob Ludwig. This was done on January 31, no doubt followed by a lobster dinner.

TOOL PROMO TOUR
As it now stands, in a few weeks (mid-February) the members of the band (except for Adam) and their manager will be traveling to parts of Europe, England, Japan and Australia on a bit of a promo tour, meaning that they will be meeting with record company people and doing various interviews with the press in order to promote their new record and upcoming tours. Although any press releases are usually timed to coincide with the release of the record, there will undoubtedly be leaks, so those of you who scour the internet should be on the lookout around this time. As the others field questions and deal with promo issues abroad, Adam will remain in Los Angeles to direct the new Tool video.


TOOL'S NEW ALBUM IS LOCKED AND LOADED, MY BITCHES, MY PRETTIES. QUAKE WITH FEAR AS IT RENDERS YOU DEAF AND DUMB. THE PAINBEARER HAS SPOKEN.

and the pb speaks more:


who needs the messy affair of love and steamy sex when one has the sublime, perfect deity known as TOOL? what lies and faleshood can stand firm against the rushing red sonic jihad of the murderous fanticism given us in TOOL? what matter will not burst into one contiued element of harmonious energy vibration, rocking thy proverbial arse to the thrumming beat of the TOOL?

i defy you to find anyone or anything who trembles not in the blue face of the truth they know without knowing. in TOOL are we all brought to grace, fulfilled and completed and challenged to question ourselves and those transparent things around us. in TOOL are we tried and tested and found worthy or wanting, raised up or cast aside on the strength of our own merit and inner drive to truly see; to stand naked in the truthflood, the sacrificed blood of the weak and timid minds of the teeming hoi polloi. by TOOL are we raised above the millions of dumbfounded dipshits drowning in the lies and egos and discarded silicone of Arizona Bay. we will walk on their drowning heads and drink beer from the skies and paint ourselves blue in blessed consecration. TOOL will save the faithful.


all hail the TOOL.

so say we all.


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in keeping with the whole feline theme of late, i'll just direct your attention to Jerry's drunk little mousekateer (not Disney) cousin talking to Tom. you know, Tom the cat. and Jerry. come kids, wake up.

i'm drunk. i'm french. i'm a cute little mouse.

let me also say how delighted i was to receive 54 comments in my last journal. granted, several of you were multiple-types (what a nice word), but i don't think i've received that many comments since i posted a pic of le penis when i was still an SG n00b. actually, there weren't more than 15 comments, but we'll not linger on the numbers, hey?

my account was set to go black tomorrow. i cancelled three months ago and was just set to let it go last week when all of the sudden i gained several new friends and just a better outlook on the site...so now i'm 18 bones lighter and still around for another 3 moons.

i'm also rather bummed that Halo 3 is now slated to languish in limbo until the elevenmonth of this year. pity, that. looks like i'll have to go out and get a life in the meantime.

also, tell me something: why is it that the people who bust your balls about playing video games are the same noodleheaded douchebags who'll sit around and watch Survivor or some other brain-liquifying effluent for hour upon hour? i mean, at least i'm doing something constructive like ridding the galazzzzy of a very dangerous consortium of several hot-pink coloured species of nasty alien. geez. all they do is sit around and eat cheetos and feel embarrassed for those idiots making arse-holes of themselves in front of the world.

-pb


also, i love love love with extreme gooey-ness that part in The Cure's "If Only Tonight We Could Sleep" about 2:11 in when you can hear Freaky Rob going "aaahhhhhh" under the music.