PROPAGANDA
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Welcome to The Hague (or Den Haag), the corrupt and bankrupt government city of the Netherlands, a vague metroplex sprawl, where every tribe remains in its own reserve, where cocaine bars, hookers and squats are the only nightlife, where you gotta be a 'hufter' proof (speed)freak to survive a midst the assholes and degenerated morons that roam the dirty brownstreets, where dirty brown cops are still out for your dirty brown ass, where trendy life-style is practically non-existing with all them lowdown 'kankah' punx, white trash hooligans, junky tekno-crusties and other weirdo 'couleur locale'. Yet dozens of obscure underground 'rawk' groups are active (or should we say lurking) in the many, but well-hidden, dark holes that are the illegal venues and loser bars of this fuckin' 'klote'-city and its illustre suburbia (where life is even worse). So forget about Kane, Anouk, Di-rect and all the other commercial bullshit stadium rock from The Hague that waves over Holland, here are the real hard-rockin' bands from the 'kouwe-kak/kankerstad' that is... Den Haag!

Yours sincerely,
Roderick Ruyghrock,
starreporter

AMERIKKKA THE BEAUTIFUL, out of the suburban concentration camps,
into the suburban crematoria of shopping mall paradise
Amerikkka the beautiful, a donut with a chubby rim of white fat ensnared by the
beltway, the chocolate interior melting away
Amerikkka the beautiful, big choc'o'block chunks 'o' pumping pink and red meat
piled up into a tower of quivering lard, a tower of power
Amerikkka the beautiful, the 6th reich, we feed the world all the shit it can
take, feed 'em and fuck 'em, all you can eat red white and blue
Amerikkka the beautiful, the future white trash minority breeds and breeds
inferiority, a giant sprawl of cheese cake, a cancerous growth
of pork chops inciting the humongous fungus among us
Amerikkka the beautiful, pork boy, beef boy, meat boy, dough boy, pig boy,
grilled rib and a prime cut of roasted pork
Amerikkka the beautiful, Hollywood Babylon and DisneyWorld, a pederastic clown
called Ronald and an evil happy Mouse
Amerikkka the beautiful, the ultimate slaughterhouse industry where docile
herds of oblivious brave stuffed chickens are waiting in line to
be massacred by the media mantra propaganda machine
Amerikkka the beautiful, the stars and stripes of the bloodied banner,
the abbatoir of the incinerating neo-thermidor holocaust
Amerikkka the beautiful, hallucinations of freedom and false illusions of
safety in the consumer prisons of the gated communities
Amerikkka the beautiful, millions of dead children and the corporate
fascism of the military-industrial complex
Amerikkka the beautiful, have a coke and a smile! Sieg Heil, Motherfuckers!
ARE WE TOO LATE FOR THE TREND? - A short array by G. Tavares ...

well, to be frankly, yes, we are! and please don't bother trying to beahead! aren't we all born losers destined to fall victim to our own human 'weaknesses'? 'menschlich, all zu menschlich', or should we say 'chimpanzelich'? 5 million years of evolution, but our social behaviour hasn't changed a bit! the 'Kleinpolitik' of this sad 'anima rationale', 'to zoon logikon', is still the real driving force behind our history and its 'little dramas'. So it'sabout personal politics, maximizing one's individual reproduction, not big movements, religions, ideologies, technologies, culture clashes, and certainly not the grand 'civilization' of mankind or any other dialectic thesis. just plainol' myth for power, politics for sex, communication for manipulation, we are still the same apes of the Old uvai gorge, skull and bones (George W.Bush is a member), skin and meat, grass, gas and ass! Create fear and they'll buy everything, give 'em illusion and they'll suck your dick, give and they obey (the power of reciprocity: 'quid pro quo'), it's so easy to subjugate the species, feed 'em and fuck 'em, this is the sixth Reich! feed the world any bullshit and they will consume, image is everything, status is everything, money buys identity (your hollow existence), the phobocracy reigns supreme, and yet this math of trend is wiped out if placed in the context of the right geological scale: progress and innovation is meaningless and vain as nothing really changes.....

yours sincerely,
Guilherme Tavares, Esq.,
chairman of the board of Bunker records.

Godspill and the Catharsis of the Evil Needle!
God's pill or god spill? Bear god or beard god? Crank whore or crack
whore? Come to the Great Delusion of our sectarian cult! Worship the
ubiquitous Mammon of our false life-style religion! Mankind is out there,
ready to be fooled by the Grand Demiurge, subjugated to the Evil Needle,
ready to be rocked, like a little baby in its mother's arms, ready to be
opiated/operated by emotional illusions, when drowned in pathos, ready
to be penetrated by all the filth in the world (Burn! Babylon! Burn!),
every orifice must be consumed/consummated, every cavity must be fed,
as true Love is meat, ready to ease and please, ready to be arbitrary
disposed of, a mere chemical balance of the right drugs, the right stimuli
and there you ARE! That extra chubby rim of fat under your hairy alfa-male
chin (your acces to sex and dominance!) and that whole damn' DNA war (your
battle for eternity!) is won! Take that subject! Eat it! Make it YOUR object! DO WHAT THOU WILLT!
Your flesh is mine, young god, young slave!
Mind is matter and only but matter as the true Love of God is matter and
only that matters! Beware my little friends! The Evil Needle is out there,
to take away the pain..., Ooohhh, Lord!

Amen,
your Minister of Propaganda,
Guy Tavares

BUNKER NIPPON....
Stay in your safe concrete hide-outs and awaiten your new domination,
this time there won't be any Kamikaze to wipe out that Mongolian army
fleet, the bearded barbarians-in-black are coming again with their Holy
Cross, but now to invade and conquer your beloved Land of the Rising Sun.
But don't worry, my dearest friends and foes, we are not out to penetrate
your bodily orifices, just a phoenix rising from its burning ashes will do
the job nicely and no, not phosphor, not napalm, not Little Boy shall be
our messenger boys. As life is mere a wave-length, a glorious frequency
war it shall be, Blitzkrieg not Sitzkrieg, Pika-chu not Pika-don....

Sincerely, Guy Tavares,
Your minister of Propaganda


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