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96-gallon Toter trash carts
Rubatino Refuse Removal
Everett, WA
May 2015
©Bryn Erdman. All Rights Reserved.
Toter model EVR II 96
The major local hauler serving the City of Everett, WA
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Please do not use this photo or any part of this photo without first asking for permission, thank you.
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In the new Lahore lies buried Shah Husain and with him lies buried the myth of Lal Husain. Still, at least once a year we can hear the defused echoes of the myth. As the lights glimmer on the walls of Shalamar, the unsophisticated rhythms of swinging bodies and exulting voices curiously insist on being associated with Husain. This instance apparently defies explanation. But one is aware that an undertone of mockery pervades the air - released feet mocking the ancient sods of Shalamar and released voices mocking its ancient walls. Husain too, the myth tells us, danced a dance of mockery in the ancient streets of Lahore. Grandson of a convert weaver, he embarrassed every one by aspiring to the privilege of learning what he revered guardians of traditional knowledge claimed to teach.
Then again, fairly late in life, he embarrassed every one by refusing to believe in the knowledge he had received from others, and decided to know for himself. He plucked the forbidden fruit anew.
The myth of Lal Husain has lived a defused, half-conscious life in the annual Fare of Lights. The poetry of shah Husain which was born out of common songs of the people of the Punjab has kept itself alive by becoming a part of those very songs. In recent past, the myth of Madhu Lal Husain and the poetry of Husain have come to be connected. But the time for the myth to become really alive in our community is still to come.
Husain s poetry consists entirely of short poems known as "Kafis." A typical Husain Kafi contains a refrain and some rhymed lines. The number of rhymed lines is usually from four to ten. Only occasionally a more complete form is adopted. To the eye of a reader, the structure of a "Kafi" appears simple. But the "Kafis" of Husain are not intended for the eye. They are designed as musical compositions to be interpreted by the singing voice. The rhythm in the refrain and in the lines are so balanced and counterpointed as to bring about a varying, evolving musical pattern.
It may be asserted that poetry is often written to be sung. And all poetry carries, through manipulation of sound effects, some suggestion of music. Where then lies the point in noticing the music in the "Kafis" of Shah Husain? Precisely in this: Husain s music is deliberate - not in the sense that it is induced by verbal trickery but in the sense that it is the central factor in the poet s meaning.
The music that we have here is not the vague suggestion of melodiousness one commonly associates with the adjective "lyrical : it is the symbolic utterance of a living social tradition. The "Kafis" draw for their musical pattern on the Punjabi folk songs. The Punjabi folk songs embody and recall the emotional experience of the community. They record the reactions to the cycle of birth, blossoming, decay and death. They observe the play of human desire against the backdrop of this cycle, symbolizing through their rhythms the rhythms of despair and exultation, nostalgia and hope, questioning and faith. These songs comprehend the three dimensions of time - looking back into past and ahead into future and relating the present to both. Also, these songs record the individual s awareness of the various social institutions and affiliations and clinging to them at the same time - asserting his own separate identity and also seeking harmony with what is socially established.
Through this deliberate rhythmic design, Shah Husain evokes the symbolic music of the Punjabi folk songs. His "Kafis" live within this symbolic background and use it for evolving their own meaning.
By calling into life the voice of the folk-singer, Husain involves his listeners into the age-old tension which individual emotions have borne it its conflicts with the unchanging realities of Time and Society. But then, suddenly one is aware of a change. One hears another different voice also. It is the voice of Husain himself, apparently humanized with the voice of the folk-singer, and yet transcending it. The voice of the folk-singer has for ages protested against the bondage of the actual, but its fleeting sallies into the freedom of the possible have always been a torturing illusion. The voice of the folk-singer is dragged back to its bondage almost willingly, because it is aware of the illusory nature of its freedom and is reluctant run after a shade, fearing the complete loss of its identity. The voice of Shah Husain is transcending folk-singer s voice brings into being the dimension of freedom - rendering actual what had for long remained only possible:
Ni Mai menoon Kherian di gal naa aakh
Ranjhan mera, main Ranjhan di, Kherian noon koori jhak
Lok janey Heer kamli hoi, Heeray da wer chak
Do not talk of the Kheras to me,
O mother, do not.
I belong to Ranjha and he belongs to me.
And the Kheras dream idle dreams.
Let the people say, "Heer is crazy; she has given her-self to the cowherd." He alone knows what it all means.
O mother, he alone knows.
Please mother, do not talk to me of Kheras.
At first , the little "Kafi" deftly suggests the underlying folk-song patter. The usual figures in the marriage song - the girls, the mother, the perspective husband and the perspective in-laws are all there. And the refrain calls the plaintive marriage-song address of the girl to he mother on the eve of her departure from the parents house.
But the folk-song pattern remains at the level of an underlying suggestion. The mother and the daughter in the folk-song were both helpless votaries of an accepted convention, bowing before the acknowledged power of an unchanging order. Here in the "Kafi" the daughter assumes the power of choice and rejection. She stands outsides the cycles of time and society. The mother continues to represent the social order and the accepted attitudes according to her convictions, the Kheras offer the best possible future for her daughter because they assure mundane security and prestige, within a decaying order. But the daughter I snow determined to go beyond this order and seek further inner development. To her the Kheras, her unacceptable in-laws, represent the tyranny of the actual forced on the individual. To her, Ranjha, the socially condemned cowherd, represents the consummation of her revolt, promising a union which is the real inner fulfillment. The accepted attitudes are based on a superficial vision,
which takes appearance to be the only reality. Ranjha, who always hides his real self behind the shabby garb of a jogi or a cowherd can never be understood and can never be preferred to the wealthy Kheras. His real identity is a mystery that can be realized only in Heer s individual emotions. And for such a realization, a conscious break with the order of appearances is a prerequisite. Husain s triumph is achieved, not by evading the bondage s of the actual but by suffering them and finally transforming them. The mother remains a part of the daughter s consciousness - in addressing her she addresses herself. But this part of her consciousness is now subjected to more vital individual self. In the refrain:
Ni Mai menon Kherian di gal naa aakh
there is a tone of confidence - a mixture of earnest protestation and assured abandon.
Here is a "Kafi" presenting a different emotion:
Sujjen bin raatan hoiyan wadyan
Ranjha jogi, main jogiani, kamli kar kar sadian
Mass jhurey jhur pinjer hoyya, karken lagiyan hadyan
Main ayani niyoonh ki janan, birhoon tannawan gadiyan
Kahe Husain faqeer sain da, larr tairay main lagiyaan
Nights swell and merge into each other as I stand a wait for him.
Since the day Ranjha became jogi, I have scarcely been my old self and people every where call me crazy. My young flesh crept into creases leaving my young bones a creaking skeleton. I was too young to know the ways of love; and now as the nights swell and merge into each other, I play host to that unkind guest - separation.
The slower tempo of the refrain sets the mood of the "Kafi." The voice of the singer stretches in an ecstasy of suffering along the lengthening vowel sounds. The vowel sounds initiated by the refrain are taken up by rhythms and several other words.
The Heer-Ranjha motif is used here in a different emotional background. The intense loneliness here contrasts sharply with the confidence of fulfillment shown in the earlier "Kafi." Here people s preoccupation with appearances is not treated with indifference;
Ranjha jogi, main jogiani, kamli kar kar sadian
instead it adds to the plain. But in the notes of suffering, there is a strange quality of single-mindedness. One is not aware of any fidgety second thoughts. The plain does not evince any desperation: in fact there is an air of contemplative pose, born out of the awesome finality of commitment.
In another "Kafi" using the Heer-Ranjha motif, we are taken back to a still earlier stage of the poet s emotional Odyssey:
Main wi janan dhok Ranjhan di, naal mare koi challey
Pairan paindi, mintan kardi, janaan tan peya ukkaley
Neen wi dhoonghi, tilla purana, sheehan ney pattan malley
Ranjhan yaar tabeeb sadhendha, main tan dard awalley
Kahe Husain faqeer namana, sain senhurray ghalley
Travelers, I too have to go; I have to go to the solitary hut of Ranjha. Is there any one who will go with me? I have begged many to accompany me and now I set out alone. Travelers, is there no one who could go with me?
The River is deep and the shaky bridge creaks as people step on it. And the ferry is a known haunt of tigers. Will no one go with me to the lonely hut of Ranjha?
During long nights I have been tortured by my raw wounds. I have heard he in his lonely hut knows the sure remedy. Will no one come with me, travelers? <
The folk-song locale is present here in the shape of a river, a ferry and a batch of travelers. The travelers gather to set off to remote places for business, duty and other reasons. And there is the self conscious girl who comes daily to hear some chance gossip drop a word about her friend. The river for centuries has flowed between desire and fulfillment. No one knows where it goes; it has no beginning and no end. The river is ancient and unfathomable - holding mysterious dangers. It causes both life and death but shows a fascinating indifference that compels awed men and women to kneel and worship the river. There is another reason for this homage. The river bounds the village. It limits and defines the known and tried capacities of humanity. The girl s father has no possessions beyond the river. What she was born with lies placidly marked this side of the river. What is beyond, is vaguely threatening. But this hazardous unknown fascinates the girl and seeks to lure her out of the complacent peace she was born with.
But the girl in the "Kafi" differs from the girl in the folk-song in one vital respect. The girl in the folk-song has for ages, waited on this side of the river. She visits the ferry and moves among the travelers with questioning looks. But in her words and looks there lurks the knowledge of perpetual impossibility, the acknowledge that desire is never more than a wish is often less than it. The girl in the "Kafi" is prepared to bridge the gap between desire and attainment. She too is aware of the hazards of her ways but for her he imperative need to set out has become the supreme fact.
The image of a patient, desperately looking for a last remedy contains subtle implications. When Heer fakes illness in the house of her in-laws, Ranjha the fake jogi was approached for some magic cure. Heer was cured in a way the people did not foresee and her illness turned out to be of an unexpected nature. Those believing in appearances as the only reality were given a dramatic lesson. Here in the "Kafi", the metaphorical background is recreated. The girl earnestly wishes to align herself with ordinary motives and measures. But the uncommon purpose of her journey and the uncommon destination still stand out among the group of travelers. Her request for some one to accompany her only throws into stranger relief her unique loneliness.
The ecstatic rhythm brings to the refrain a tone of finality, a finality comparable to that of death. The journey across the river is a transition as radical as death. The two worlds of experience are as different from each other as the familiar life and the unknown beyond. (1959)
By 1936, the U.S. Navy realized that future fighters would be monoplanes, so they showed little to no interest in Grumman’s latest XF4F-1 biplane design, similar to its earlier, successful FF series. Grumman hastily redesigned the XF4F-1 as the XF4F-2 monoplane, which also lost out to Brewster’s F2A Buffalo. Refusing to give up, Grumman returned to the drawing board, enlarging the design with different wings and tail and a supercharged R-1830 Twin Wasp engine, which gave the new XF4F-3 a boost in speed over the F2A Buffalo. Grumman also gave it a catchy name, Wildcat, indeed beginning the famous "Grumman Cats" series that would culminate in the F-14 Tomcat four decades later.
To Grumman’s dismay, the Navy still showed little interest, ordering only a small batch of production F4F-3s. France, desperate for fighters to meet the coming Axis onslaught, felt differently and placed a large order for Wildcats. France fell to Germany before delivery, but in equally dire straits, the British also saw promise in the F4F-3 and took over the French order, renaming it the Martlet Mk I. After Martlets successfully defended the British naval base at Scapa Flow from German air raids, the Navy reevaluated the Wildcat and placed it into full production in October 1941.
When the United States entered the war after the attack on Pearl Harbor, only one carrier, USS Enterprise, had a full complement of F4F-3s. The Wildcat was not well-liked at first, mainly because nearly everything on it was manual: the landing gear had to be raised and lowered by the pilot cranking it into place, and the machine guns had to be charged manually. It was not very maneuverable and was nearly 40 mph slower than the Japanese Mitsubishi Zeroes. The Zero could fly rings around the Wildcat. What pilots learned to love, however, was the Wildcat’s toughness: it could take incredible punishment. Zero pilots were recorded emptying their machine guns and cannon ammunition into Wildcats, and the American fighters could still fly. Conversely, the Wildcats' four heavy .50 caliber machine guns could destroy a Zero with only a few hits. If the Wildcat could not turn or climb with a Zero, its heavier weight meant the pilot could always dive away from a fight.
Lessons learned at the Battles of Coral Sea and Midway led to Grumman introducing the F4F-4 variant, with six guns and folding wings—the Wildcat had not particularly distinguished itself at either battle due to frequent gun jams and a lack of fighters: even the massive Lexington-class carriers could only carry up to 20 F4F-3s. With the F4F-4s, fighter strength went up to 30-40 aircraft. Though pilots disliked the weight of the F4F-4, the added punch was helpful. However, F4F-4s would do their best from land bases. During the six-month long Guadalcanal campaign, Marine Corps Wildcats from Henderson Field fought on even terms with the best Zero pilots the Imperial Japanese Navy could muster. Pilots like John Smith, Marion Carl, and Joseph Foss—all of whom won the Medal of Honor—turned in such an excellent performance that the F4Fs sustained a 6 to 1 kill ratio over their Japanese opponents.
By 1943, however, it was clear that the Wildcat was becoming obsolete. In any case, newer and better fighters were reaching the fleet: the F6F Hellcat was the F4F’s direct descendant, while the more radical F4U Corsair was also entering service. However, with the Navy acquiring dozens of escort carriers, the Wildcat’s smaller size and slower speed made it ideal for operations from these smaller "jeep" carriers. Production was transferred to General Motors, which produced the Wildcat variants of the FM-1 (identical to the F4F-4) and FM-2 (with a taller tail and uprated engine). These aircraft defended the escort carriers in both oceans in World War II and undertook the attack, fighter defense, and antisubmarine operations until the war’s end. The FM-2s were also heavily used in the Battle of Samar, the climactic and desperate final act of the Battle of Leyte Gulf, and in defending the fleet during the kamikaze attacks in the summer of 1945.
At the end of World War II and the scrapping of most of the escort carrier fleet, the Wildcat’s days had finally been numbered. It had been successful days, however: the F4F finished the war with a 7 to 1 kill ratio over its opponents, and no less than 7,900 were built. About 38 of these remain today, with half being flyable or under restoration.
This FM-2, BuNo 86564, was delivered to the U.S. Navy in June of 1945, just before the war ended. It flew as a training aircraft at NAS Tillamook, Oregon, and never went to sea before being retired in 1946. What might have been the end for 86564 was averted by movie stunt pilot Frank Tallman, who bought the aircraft—probably for a meager price, given that he and his stunt partner Paul Mantz had bought a B-25 for around $75. Tallman added it to his collection and repainted it in white and red, flying it at airshows. After Tallman was killed in a crash in 1978, 86564 was auctioned off and bought by the Yanks Air Museum. It was restored to its original Navy appearance and was placed on public display in 1983.
All credit to Newport City; as well as an all electric bus fleet, they have all electric refuse lorries.
"Allyriadus Sero" is "Zero Emissions".
96-gallon Ameri-Kart Versa trash cart
Humbert Refuse & Recycling
Umatilla County, OR
November 2014
©Bryn Erdman. All Rights Reserved.
What a great weather, but... MS ICE refused to stich those panels. Obviously, a better flat is needed, and, perhaps, collecting 1200 frames per panel takes too long and some subtle changes have enough time to happen...
17.03.2015, around 10:00 GMT+4.
TIS DMK23U274 via 2x Barlow on Coronado PST, 20% of 1200 frames per panel stacked in Autostakkert!2 2.3.021alpha, deconvolution (Richardson-Lucy agressive, Cauchy-type PSF, 0,3 pix, 9 iter.) and wavelet sharpening (1-31-24-53-1) were made in AstraImage PRO 3.0, high-pass filtering, masking, blending, coloration and montage - Photoshop.
Note: on a second thought I should have colorized proms in the same way as I did for the disk... Or just leave it monochrome.
Brand: Road Champs
Series: N/A 1995?
Livery: Waste Management, Inc , "Helping the world dispose of it's problems"
Scale: 1/43
Base: Black metal - ©1991
Collector/casting number: N/A
Country of manufacture: China
Place/date of purchase: eBay Oct 22, 2020
Condition: Light play ware 9/10
Remarks/comments:
96-gallon Toter trash cart
Rubatino Refuse Removal
Everett, WA
May 2015
©Bryn Erdman. All Rights Reserved.
History Refused to Die: Highlights from the Souls Grown Deep Foundation Gift.
Lucy T.Pettway American, Boykin Alabama 1921 – 2004 Boykin
Housetop and Bricklayer with Bars quilt , ca. 1955
Cotton and acetate
Lucy T. Pettway was known to be a keen observer of the world around her. She carried paper and pencil as she walked to and from her work in the fields each day and jotted down things that caught her eye, later using them as inspiration for her quilt designs. This extraordinary work is the only Gee’s Bend Quit in the collection that seems to be intentionally pictorial. Using the favored Housetop and Bricklayer pattern blocks, Pettway created an imaginary aerial view of the old Pettway plantation, with the large owner’s house at the top and four slave cabins below. The small printed calicos to the left of the houses represent the fields, while on the right, the blue Alabama River flows between red banks.
Gift of Souls Grown Deep Foundation from the William S. Arnett Colleciton, 2014 (2014.548.52)
From the Placard: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY
www.soulsgrowndeep.org/artist/lucy-t-pettway
www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2018/history-refus...
www.nytimes.com/2018/05/24/arts/design/history-refused-to...
It was all hands on deck for the staff at Veolia Hastings to clear up after the Olympic Torch Relay came to town on 17th July 2012.Third back is a Scarab Minor.
Department of Sanitation - New York City (44 of 167)
Mack Serial # LEU613-7165
Image taken at 2012 Mack Open House in Macungie. Photo by K.R. (Used with permission)
Despite being built in 1993, this vintage White/GMC WB refuse truck looks nearly brand new. Still used by Active Disposal Inc, the truck is spending Christmas Day surrounded by newer Freightliners.
Owner: Active Disposal Inc.
VIN: 4V2JCBME3PR818404
17 years ago, click on the link
www.youtube.com/watch?v=72vEVSt6lpo&feature=related
The worms of the senses ponder quickly towards destruction. Winning is not everything but in our elitist competitive society it is all that matters. Rice cakes for the people and caviar for the leaders who built our world around machines, money and matter. We were left out of the plan and our destination is set by the used car dealer or the factory boss. Bored we walk home with our heads hanging and our creativity stolen as an effect of capitalist gain. In a dream state there is nothing more than simple abstraction of the mind from the matter and the belief that work will somehow “macht frei”. The theory that Marx recognized from Feuerbach, and no we, the people, need to see the spectacle that binds us to our “destiny”. Alienation is not commodity, figures, statistics or make believe but very much a real tool of oppression and seclusion. If we can’t take our part then we must not take part. The faculties of the skull are another dimension of that which is sucking us dry. The imperialisation of the third world is dominant even in our taste for soft drinks and afternoon snacks. With dry wits and knuckles dragging the ground co-operations claim that profit is rightfully theirs and that the blood squeezed out of Africa, South America, Burma, The Baltic states and South Asia is nothing but market interest and public craving. Their products are death and they are salesmen of corruption and power abuse. They are the slave dealers of our time. They are the inquisition. They are the machine that must be stopped.
Turn the knob and wait for the liberating sound of ecstasy and revolution. Who pays the newsman and who owns the radio stations and who runs the record label? Who benefits from the de-politicizing in art and music and who benefits from the clean sound of the next pop wonder? Who runs the game show and who pays the salaries to the reporters? Here and now we offer you a taste of our liberation frequency, provided by us for your satisfaction and excitement. This is radio clash, 33 Revolutions Per Minute, our haven of thoughts and ideas. It could be yours too, if only you’d let yourself go and turn the knob and listen and love and sing and think.
Stuck by the deadly rhythm of the production line. Stuck by the conditions set by the capitalist market. Stuck by the necessities of living and forced to take part. If we are tired it is because we are supposed to be and if we are hungry it is because we have to be and if we are bored it is because it is expected of us. Bored and chained and stuck and dead. New forms of work camps are arranged and new ways of hiding the monotonous beat of slavery are being presented. The preliminary condition required for propelling the workers to the status of “free” producers and consumers of commodity was the violent expropriation of their own time. The spectacular return of time was made possible only after this dispossession of power. Urbanism is capitalism’s seizure of the natural and human environment; developing logically into absolute domination, capitalism can and must now remake the totality of space into it’s own setting. Time, work, environment and joy all have their norms set by modern ways of production.
The awkward youngster touches his poster and glances upon the stars and the heavens. The day seems neverending and there is a certain notion of innocence and childhood play. The mantra will be repeated and we will learn to obey and love and cherish the chosen few. Manners inconceivable and then we have to live. Ideals corrupted and echoes from the past about ideas once held true are shining like untouchable constellations. But we are all stars, shining and burning, cruising down the highway looking for the next stop and the next break from capitalised boredom and slavery. Then there is the option of summer holidays vs. punk routine. Then there is greed and money and fallen heroes. “We are all tired of dying”. So why not try and live for a change and turn that glimmering into bright shining creation through the realisation that you know everything and that you are you?
Must I paint you a picture about the way that I feel? This situation of Art vs. Life and the present elitism within the bourgeoisie and upper-class. The critics hold their heads high cause they know about the real suffering and the real work while we get the easy accessible forms of communication and entertainment, pinned down simple for us to comprehend. The lack of stimulants within art, politics and life lowers our standards which is why we settle for talkshows and MTV. We are not stupid, but if we are treated like ingrates we will start to act like children. The lack of challenging forms of expression and thoughts of fire and self-confidence gives us a passive and hollow nature. So reclaim art, take back the fine culture for the people, the working people, the living people and burn down their art galleries and destroy their fancy constructions and buildings. Cause we, unlike the bourgeoisie, have nothing to lose and therefore our expression will be the only honest one, our words will be the only challenging ones and our art will be the one revolutionary expression. We need new noise and new voices and new canvases to become something more than the last poets of a useless generation.
The credentials with which we call upon you are simple linguistics thrown and tossed liked flaming songs of discontent. The Refused party programme screams out not 1, not 2, not 3, not 4, not 5 but 6 opinions and 6 structures of change and 6 levels of liberation. All in all not mystical but direct and attractive and as we shout “Yeah” you’ll feel the same sensation best described by Tomas Paine: “Let them call me rebel and welcome, I feel no concern from it; but I should suffer the misery of devils, were I to make a whore of my soul...”. Here and now and all the time the mythical touch and the obvious message. Behold the wisdom of the party program.
Pro (in favour) – attest (testify for).
The time is now and still we sit and wait for it to become the now that we think we need. The movement of protest has strong traditions and we are far from the first to recognise and use the power of the song and the words from the young poets. We are trembling from the taste of days gone to waste and there is inspiration and there is clarity. Phil Ochs stated firmly “If I have something to say I’m going to say it now” and still protest song 68 is nothing more than a pastiche, a blueprint of seduction of the echoes that once filled the corridors of dorms and boys/girls rooms in an era where rebellion and revolt was present in art and music. From the first until the last, from the taste of longing freedom to the shackles of oppression, the weapon of the artist has always been used.
Refused are fuckin dead that’s what the answering machine said, looks like this is it!!! They talked one to many shit about the upper-class and the government, did you hear what those faggots said in some fanzine someone else read. I heard they are a bunch of spoiled little rich kids who need to get their asses kicked. Fuckin ingrates! Fuckin pussies!! Refused are fuckin dead guaw huydsas kjhds aowedde (fighting sequence). Refused are fuckin dead by order of the postmaster general just like the panthers only this time for real because SAPO have tapped their telephones and the Umeå police raided their homes and they must have been killed.
Are you ready baby? For the shape of punk to come. Get the equipment together and we’ll meet at the show. It’s gruesome that someone so handsome should care. We all recognise the hint of the programme screaming at the top of his lungs that “We’re all dressed up and we got somewhere to go”. Like the rebellious swing kids of the 40’s or the crazy jazz heads of the 50’s to the stylish mods of the 60’s we all need to recognise that style in contradiction to fashion is necessary to challenge the conservatism of the youth cultures placed upon us. Strict in our style but with a touch of elegance and freedom and individualism. The uniform and the production of constructive challenges comes in the most unexpected of shapes, Ornette Coleman reinvented jazz altogether and we need a new beat to move to so grab your partner and ask: Do you want to go out with me, watch me get on my knees and bleed? This blind date might take you to places unknown and it will be new and scary and vital. But nonetheless there is no danger in exploration and searching. It never tasted this great to scream “yes” and you never had more enticing cavalier to hold hands with. The new teen hysteria of noise and kisses and politics and crazy entertainment and naked fun and beats and books and poetry and travelling and style. It’s never been safe to live in a world that teaches us to respect property and disregard human life. So drop your belongings and get on this soul train, dig the static sound and think that maybe this once there is just us, the kids, playing the day away, it’s just us kicking over statues and smashing windows of houses of parliaments, just to show them who has the real power. This blind date will take us anywhere we want.
A dream only lasts so long. Imagine the pyramids inhabited by aliens and the dark corridors and the dreams and the longing for better financial conditions. The sweat pours down your neck and you run and you run, heart beating, head pounding, alive tonight. The streets never sleep, they are glowing, vibrating with the echoes of laughter and joy, screams and curses. We just need to take the time and see what it can offer us and how we can break free from this boredom that the capitalist reign has forced upon us. Tonight we can be as mighty as tannhäuser and we can tumble excited down the labyrinths and the turns knowing that derive` is potent. So where do we go from here?
The Apollo programme was a hoax or so we say. The biggest lie was market economy that blinded us with the glory of prosperity and freedom. The deck was dealt and we all lost, on our knees in the dirt hoping for salvation and then we look and there are golden drops of dawn functioning as oral sagas, keeping us shackled, making glory of the lies that the spectacle provides us with. So as we sit tight and enjoy the soap operas that are designed to keep us bleeding out of our eyes and keeps us nodding and sighing, there is still hope in the petrol bomb and in it, the revolution. For in the destruction and the overthrowing there is a certainty of salvation. We need to destroy the museum and it’s old artefacts, we need to tear down the power structures that enslaves and then in revolution we can live and be alive. Yes, this is our hymn and our praise to the brave and bold stranger in the night, to the fed up worker and the angry wife. Hope, revolution and dedication. Fight fire with fire and everything will burn. Yeah.
This manifesto is very much for real.
-by Refused
waoh,i've never thought my hair looked this red!
Yeah! Another garbage truck.
This one is a small version of the Volvo FE. Features drive, steering, a 2 cylinder motor, opening doors, tilting cab, opening hopper, bin lift, compaction cycle, and extraction plate.
Much more at Thirdwigg.com. Find the Youtube video here.