It has been a along time since last we spoke….for that, I am sorry. There are some things in this world that cannot be helped…like The Death Flu Sick. Our 3 day mini tour to KY, OH, and MI took it’s toll on us. We have also been obscenely busy lately recording and writing. Would you rather us write on the internet …or write on the songs?? Make the right decision. Don’t blow this for yourself.

When last we contacted you, we were preparing for a vicious show with Wax Fang and Velcro Stars on January 12th. It happened..and it was amazing. A strong “thank you” goes out to all who were there…and an even stronger “sorry for your loss” goes out to all who weren’t. All is not lost, however… there seems to be rumblings of a Round 2.

Since our Jan. 12th show, we have been many places(and by “many,” I mean 3), and seen many things(and by “many,” I mean we saw some stuff). One of said things was the basement of a bowling alley in Louisville, KY on Feb 8th. We played with a band known only as Ultra Pulverize…and that names suits them all too well. That night, we slept with the dead. In a mortuary. With dead people. We’re super tough. Supposedly there weren’t really any dead people there at the time, but I like to think there were…and that they came back to life and ate Scartoe as he slept quietly on the stairs….like a little lamb.
The second night was spent in Akron, OH, and “OH” what a night of nerdiological debauchery, it was. A&G Ohio. There were wizards and warriors a plenty, there were ravers and weirdos galore…you want Pokemons?…there were too many…but who cares. no big deal. we’re still poor(Demon Barber’s got one hell of a fountain Pepsi habit)……….we also ate vicious Italian at a place called Mr. G’s Pizzeria(go there, if you want to live). It was ferocious. Once again, Ohio was overly entertaining.
Anyway, day 3 was spent in Detroit where our mustaches froze upon getting out of the bus. Intense cold. Although the outside temperature was in the negatives…it was a temperate 74º inside the bar. Marvels of modern technology. Space technology. Future Computers. Half frozen and half warm, we played a show to a fierce crowd of also half frozen and half warm Robocop lovers. They have to love him…he’s hometown. After the show, we jumped back on the bus and froze our asses off for 9 hours of intense driving fury. Feet were nearly frostbitten…hypothermia nearly took our dear sweet Murphy, for he’s a fragile one. This cold took it’s toll on us all. The Death Flu Sick jumped on us like a happy dog at a picnic. Gross. Even now, we’re still feeling the aftershocks. Not of the dog…but of the Detroit Sickness. It’s a little less gross than the dog thing.
So, that pretty much wraps up Operation: Drive to Kentucky to Play a Show, then Drive to Ohio to Play Another Show, and then Drive to Detroit to Freeze to Death(sorry, I’m not a very efficient operation namer).

The future holds much for us. What Murphy was trying to say in his cryptic/confusing bulletins on the myspace was that we are coming for you Chicago. Two nights of lusty bliss:

Thursday——-March 27th———- Chicago—————Empty Bottle – supporting Howlin’ Rain
Friday———-March 28th———- Chicago—————-Ronny’s – w/ Kid Static
Saturday——-March 29th———- Springfield, IL—-Black Sheep

Springfield..you’ll get yours, as well..

After that, we come home and begin recording….viciously. Songs. Music. America.

That’s all I’m telling you, for now….because this message is too long.

More, soon…very soon.

-Commander

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December 13th, In The Year of Our Lord, 2007

As the sun rose on the Thundercon, the day after the Last Battle of The End, some awoke to the sound of men dying, some never woke up at all.

 

I was one of those that never awoke.

 

The death had come for me. It was a valiant beating we gave the forces of evil that fateful night, but I had left myself open to the most sinister weapon the robots could think of… S.T.R.E.P. Throat.

 

 This new post is long overdue, faithful readers. I’ve been dead. For that, I apologize. 

 

Here is the News:

 

Firstly, We’d like to thank all who travelled from near and far for the battle on Dec. 1st.

 

I’m pleased to announce that the verdict is in…We were victorious. But this was no easy victory. We were forced to fight with half as many men as we needed. 

 

The End made a grave mathematical error.

 

The End’s Official Story is this:

 

The End’s Official Story

 

…So that’s why many of you were turned away at the door.

 

It is possible that The End will eventually get it’s Ability to let more than 125 people in the door back…and thus become a good venue once again. Unfortunately, Commander is easily scared and made us turn that movie off before we could see the conclusion. 

 

So that’s it. We have lost faith in The End. 

 

We shall play there no more.

 

The Protomen New Deal:

EVERYONE GETS IN!

 

To make it up to you, Nashville, we are joining forces with our brothers from the north: Wax Fang.  On January 12th we will battle to the death with Wax Fang and long-time allies, The Velcro Stars, at the Mercy Lounge…the Biggest Venue in all the Land! (not true)

 

Furthermore, it is entirely possible for you to buy tickets now to ensure you will be among the fighters fighting the fight that night.  (Alright!)

 

Here is the link to the Ticket Purchasing Department at the Mercy Lounge:

The Ticket Purchasing Department at the Mercy Lounge

 

What else… what else…what…else…what…

 

A Sea King-sized thank you to all those helping with the

“Protomen take over College Radio Station Airwaves Campaign” 

As of last week we broke the top 100.

Our New Year’s Resolution: Breaking the top 90!

Keep up the good work comrades.

We will be Victorious!

 

I was just handed a communiqué from Murphy regarding future shows.

It reads:

 

Panther, 

Don’t forget to mention these shows in your news post. (stop) 

 

Feb 8 —  Louisville, KY @ Pour House w/ Ultra Pulverize (stop)

Feb 9 — Akron, OH @ The Hilton – The Protomen cut ties with The Marriott tour (stop)

Feb 10 — Detroit, MI @ Painted Lady Lounge (stop)

 

Ok, That’s it. I’ve got to head back to Eagleville for a few hours. (stop)

Then I have to switch out cars and go to my Mom’s house (stop)

I’ll be at the Thundercon in a few hours (stop)

-Murphy

 

 

I think that’s all the news so far.

 

Except this: Commander has discovered an NES game he’s never played: Cliffhanger.

He played it today and it’s pretty awful.

Way to go Sony Imagesoft…way to go.

We expected better from you.

 

Also, We had a few of you very concerned with 525-SEA at the last battle

All i can tell you is this:

Keep your ears tuned to the proper channels. 

 

I wanna bop with you… baby, 

Panther

 

-End Transmission- 

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The Protomen would like to formally thank all of our allies who made the Southeast leg of the Fight for Light an overwhelming victory. Keep the fire, dear friends. We will return. 

The horrific catastrophe that was the midwest tour was narrowly avoided. Juliette Lewis will fall, mark my words. Do not fret, Midwest…your time will come. In its stead, however, we crossed Nashville’s watery Berlin wall and barricaded ourselves deep in the heart of East Nashville (It’s really a much nicer place than the American government would have you believe). In this bunker, we began to record Act II. Fury. 

We will work through the cold harsh winter and emerge on the other side for the next leg of the Fight for Light. Keep y our eyes tuned to the proper channels for more information. 

In Other News: 

For the last few weeks, we’ve secretly been sending out copies of The Protomen Act I (Hope Rides Alone) to college radio stations around the country in boxes labeled “Peter Cetera presents: The Greatest Hits of Chicago as performed by Peter Cetera and the Peter Cetera orchestra.” So far, it’s made it through every security check point unquestioned. College radio security officers love Peter Cetera. The point is…the album is there. It is now up to you, comrades, to get the message out. Call your local college station and tell them to play it to the death. 

Also if you have the machines to intercept XM radio transmissions…now is the time to point them at the sky and turn them up real loud. The time has come for the sounds of war to reach every corner of the world…yes, faithful soldiers…we are finally joining the ranks of Frank Stallone. This weekend XMU (Channel 43) will be playing select pieces of Act I. Let them know you heard the fury loud and clear. If they are to continue to play us, they must know that you enjoyed it. 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••  

XMU: 43

November 22nd-24th

Thursday – 10pm Eastern Time Zone

Friday – 2pm Eastern Time

Saturday – 6am Eastern Time 

If you don’t have XM you can listen online with A FREE ACCOUNT simply go to http://xmro.xmradio.com  and use the following code: XMB4MD 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Lastly, the strange documentary on Myspace entitled “The Protomen ‘Sup Girls and other things suppable from the Protobus” must have had a tremendous impact on several of New York’s greatest creative minds…because they have created, ostensibly in honor of us, “‘Sup (girl) Magazine”: 

Sup Magazine 

We give our official thumbs up to these fine fine allies and thank them for their gracious invitation to appear in an upcoming issue.

Super Important Info:

Everyone should make their way to Nashville on the day of December First. New songs will be heard by those who attend. Do not expect the rock opera….expect fury.  

 

So spake the Panther, 

Panther. 

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Jesse Christine is quiet now. All are asleep except for myself and Heath Who, who is piloting us homeward. Every man is clinging to the last breath of warm air, which is quickly fleeting from the cracks in the floorboard. The white lines outside are a blur as the Protobus nears the outskirts of The Land of Volunteers. I too am weary. But before I sleep I feel it necessary to tell you, faithful reader, about the last of the three battles.

The Battle of Carolina (Southern Front):

We pulled in to a string of shops stretching a kilometer or so up and down a main drag just outside the city. Buried in this front was the Maproom. A long-time underground haven for supporters of the cause, we were welcomed by her people and given food and drink to steady ourselves for the long night ahead. We were introduced to members of a local army who called themselves A.S.I.F. They were a ragtag bunch, but they kept in good spirits.

As the dark covered the land we found that we were not alone in our fight. Allies had traveled in from the surrounding towns, some had even made the voyage from the scene of the Great Juliette Lewis Tragedy of ’07… Disneyworld. More still had followed our bus, having nowhere else to go, from the ruins of the Battle of Savannah.

Every man fought hard and stood firm, until the battle was won.

Immediately following the battle, we danced to the sweet sounds of Brian Adams and Cyndi Lauper.

It was a good night for all.

The Battle of Carolina (Northern Front):

As we pulled into the town of Greenville, we knew something was very wrong. This city was unlike any other we’d fought in. It was small, dimly lit, and had the sour stench of Crown and locally brewed Energy Drink on its breath.

As we descended into the belly of a district called “Spaz” we spotted what we naturally assumed to be our enemy: They were a small army, but intimidating: A short man with an evil grin, dolled up as some kind of demon Saint Nick…A Irelander with a scar across her brow claiming to be a robot who only spoke in riddles, “bitch is crazy! bitch is a republican!” she kept chanting…and a burly fellow riding a long thin board and drinking everything in sight.

We moved in slowly from the south, but they were on top of us before we could think of a next move. Others followed, some friendly, some ready to strike…but all in a frenzy of alcohol and taurine. They came at us from all sides. We were barely standing when the blows suddenly ceased. Kilroy stood up and gasped for air…”They found me…I don’t know how but they found me.” “Who?” Murphy yelled across the din. “Who do you think, Murphy…The Libyans!”

And all at once the horrible laughter and the sounds of G.G. Allin songs stopped and the Libyan Death Squad gave us a beating we won’t soon forget.

We retreated to the safety of a nearby Sheetz…but were crushed under the mighty blow of 15 inch woofers and security guard batons. It was horrible…no words…

We slowly backed away from the Sheetz and again toward the Spazatorium knowing that we would surely be destroyed if we were forced to fight on two fronts. As we hesitantly returned to the scene of the first battle, the growling of the Shitagoddamns caused Commander to soil himself. The room was spinning and we felt this was our last moment amongst the world of the living, when the Spazbots turned on the Sheetzmongers.

The Libyans…the Shitagoddamns…everyone within the walls of that terrifying place turned on the city that surrounded it and destroyed the evil that consumed Greenville with a mighty roar of Rock and Roll Hellfire.

The battle was over. We didn’t win…the Rock and Roll fury of the warriors of Greenville won. They embraced us like Dr. Allan Grant embraced Dr. Ellie Sattler at the end of Jurassic Park…or like Jeff Goldblum embraced that small gymnast at the end of the Lost World, or like William H. Macy embraced Téa Leoni in Jurassic Park III…the point is it was like a movie about dinosaurs where everyone makes it out alive except for the fat guy from Seinfeld who wanted to make a quick buck and opened a Sheetz and turned it into a terrible beacon of retard.

But I digress.

We celebrated the rest of the night listening to the Devil Santa sing the songs of his homeland while being beaten with an empty keg of beer and a broken scrap of rod-iron.

Greenville…you are like the Thundercon of North Carolina.

The Battle of Richmond (The Last Front)

Richmond won this battle for herself. We never had to raise a finger. If we hadn’t been there…She would have thrown her fists up…she would’ve sang every word…she would have thrown herself off the stage and into the open arms of her children….she would have done all this by herself. And she’d have won too. We were just there for moral support…and to throw ourselves off the stage during the final song. We thank you Richmond. You stand in our hearts next to Baltimore. We will never again fear for your safety, and we will always fight alongside of you.

And now, tireless reader, as we pull into the shadows of the Thundercon, in the breaking light of morning, our story comes to an end. We are beardless and bruised. We have many repairs to make before our next battle. We have stories to tell our loved ones. We have one member of the Richmond army who hid on the bus and didn’t get found out until Knoxville. We have a renewed sense of courage. We have hope.

…we have work to do.

-Panther

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We woke today with a false sense of calm. The air was crisp. We slept the night in the safety of Fival’s Bane in the city of Savannah. Our ally here, Prof. Phil Keeling esq.  has been a generous host and spent the morning on watchtower duty allowing us to sleep into the early afternoon. I suppose I should catch our dear readers up on the last two battles.  Let us start from the end and work backwards. Here is the official transcript of last night’s show:

Kilroy- “Please welcome your hope…the Protomen.”

Panther- “Tonight we have come to tell you a story… For there was no one left who could remember how it had happened…at least no one who…

…silence…

Commander- “We’re in a jetwash. Shit!”

Murphy- “This is not good. We’ve got a flame-out. ”

Commander- “Engine one is out!”

Scartoe- “Engine two is out!”

Panther- ” I’m losing control. I can’t control it!”

“It’s coupling up! This is not good!”

Heath Who- ” Mayday. Mayday. Panther’s in trouble.”

“He’s in a flat spin heading out to sea!”

Panther- “Altitude 8000…7000…”

Scartoe- “I’m pinned forward. I can’t reach the ejection handle!”

Commander- “Demon Barber…You’re going to have to punch us out.”

Demon Barber- “I can’t reach the ejection handle…”

Heath Who- “I’ve got it. Eject!”

“Everyone watch the canopy!”

Panther- “Oh God…”

-End Transcipt-

We came to in the cold water, we think it was a fuse that blew…but no one will ever know for sure…

What is known is that this morning not a one of us had any hair on our chins.

Whiskerino, Whiskerino…

We finished the battle last night as best we could.

We won. We were victorious. But we did not make it out. A piece of each of us remains. Lost.

Follow me now, faithful readers, further into the past. Two nights ago. In the Village of Gaines.

We were outmatched.
There were just so many of them…

They came in waves.

Killer Robots.

Some were giants. Some were small and quick. One climbed to the top of Jesse Christine and attacked Hank the Tank (our Tour Manager) from above. It was a massacre. We never knew what hit us. By the end there were robot parts everywhere. Those of us who remained drank the memory away as best we could…but there was nowhere to go. We stood for hours in the very place where we were nearly destroyed. We decided to split into two factions: Half marched into the darkness to find shelter. The other half barricaded themselves in the Protobus and prayed for morning.
We rendezvoused at daybreak…put the hammer down and made a line to Savannah.

Now you know what we know.

The story is over halfway written.
We fear the light outside but know that we must somehow make it to Charleston.

Until our next meeting…
-Panther

[The following is a transcript of a conversation between Demon Barber and Commander

This conversation takes place late in the evening following the battle of Savannah]

Demon Barber - "You've got to let your beard go."   

		"You've got to let him go."

Commander- "I think maybe it was my fault."   

		"I don't know."

Commander- "I don't know what the hell went wrong."

Demon Barber- "I'd like to help. I know it's difficult."

Commander- [light sobbing]                      

Demon Barber- "God, he loved flying with you, Commander."

		"He would have flown anyway...without you."

 		"He'd have hated it, but he would have done it."

Commander- "God, I want him back"

Demon Barber- "I know bro, I know."

-End Transmission-

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Atlanta is burning. We left the city this morning under the cover of a heavy fog and aluminum foil poptart wrappers. There was a dog barking…a pug who’d, the night before, wandered out into this wasteland, and in this blighted place, we think, learned to live again. God’s little mistake…The Warrior..The Pug…Max.
The night before was a thing of beauty. Our candlelit dinner theater extravaganza was witnessed by one transplanted Mississippian and a face-painted warrior comrade from Atlanta’s neighbor: Georgia. He was a fierce beast. And although their combined cover charges weren’t quite enough to cover the bar’s steep production costs…we were treated like kings and rewarded for our valor in Ireland’s finest Vodka. The Vodka was divided amongst each of us and every man celebrated with it in their own way. Most drank. Commander dowsed himself with his share in hopes of human-torching up and down Piedmont street, but he failed.
We stayed the night in The Major’s Nest high atop Bald Eagle Hill on Bald Eagle Way…just before you get to eaglet street. The Major wasn’t in, but we were welcomed and made comfortable by an old friend and ally, Kristin:the Entomolgizer. She showed us to our, as yet unmatched, sleeping quarters complete with a glorious Lego fortress. Scartoe slept in the arms of a giant brown bear.
Tonight, Tallahassee showed us a good time. She held the door for us, and picked up the check, and treated us to a crapload of tough metal. We are recovering from the night’s wrath, even as I type, from our new-found Tallahassee home base: W.A.S.P.N.E.S.T.
Our new allies: Lee, Hogan, and Alex (and their Harry P. look-alike roommate Rob) are fading quickly as I write these words…They are dropping like flies…Charlie is all around us, and that Charlie’s name is Sleep. Tomorrow we make for Gainsville with everything we’ve got. God-willing, we’ll be there by sundown.
Sleep well faithful readers, for tomorrow brings untold danger and unmatched fear…Samhain is neigh…
-Panther

–end transmission–

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Last night, we packed our bags and slept our last good night’s sleep for seven days. For today, we begin our journey to the SouthEast. Repairs were made to the machines late into the night (those that suffered near destruction on our last two battles in Baltimore).  We are southbound now. As I type from the belly of the rolling Thundercon, this machine called Jesse Christine the last of the V8 Interceptors, we see that we may well be too late. For miles now we’ve seen nothing but destruction. A white line nightmare. This sight weighs heavy on our hearts. Onward we drive… into the smoke… into this maelstrom of decay, where ordinary men are battered and smashed. If we make it through the night, we will count ourselves lucky. This is a shell of a place. A burned out desolate land haunted by the demons of its past. And as we wander out into this wasteland, we can’t help but wonder, in this blighted place… will we crumble? Will we fall? Or will we learn to live again?…like Max did…you know…The Warrior Max.

If and when we return home on the fifth of November…we will finally return to the studio to begin the fight of fights. Stand with us now men and women of the Southeast. We need you more than ever.

-Panther

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Last night we bid farewell to our dear friend and ally Armando Apache Putay. He left the Thundercon, never to return. His days are over in this dark world….he’s gone on to a better place….a place on high….a place with central heat and air…a usable kitchen…and a train with several dogs in the back yard. Though his doors are small…you need only duck to gain entry. Last night, the sky was clear and our hearts were warm with the fires of memories past, as he walked his final walk down the Steps of Thunderconia. We loaded up Jesse The Interceptor with all of his worldly belongings…knowing very well that he can’t take him with him on the final journey…but he can enjoy them for now. There are no words for the amount of sadness we feel this day….but I suppose you could say that we have at least several bushels of sadness…if you were to use harvesting terms.

Now I know the news I have brought upon you has torn you down to your rawest of emotions…..but I know you are strong…I know you can make it through these hard times…my only hope is that we, as a people, can make it through this together. That being said, the time is now to stand up and fight for our freedoms to have at least one Putay for every household. As your president, I will make sure that Karate Kid will NOT be remade by Will “aww hell no” Smith…or any of his fellow Bel-Air party-mates. As leader of the newly formed Larusso Preservation Society I will never rest until all men know the timeless lessons we, each of us, can learn from our dearly departed friend and leader Pat Morita… the mistakes we can avoid by watching the rise and fall of John Kreese as a Karate sensei, his short return to the military, only to fall again under the command of Marshall Murdock and John Rambo’s quick knee to his manhood… and his eventual rise and second fall as mastermind behind the plot to get back at Morita and Macchio for that scene outside of the All Valley tournament. Yes, the time is upon us. We will be having group meetings in the Southeast starting October 29th. We need you to be there with us. The tentative title for our Southeastern meetings is:

“Fighting Kreese in the Southeast”

Here is a list of places where said Meetings will be located:
October 29th – Atlanta, GA – Smith’s Olde Bar
October 30th – Tallahassee, FL – The Beta Bar
October 31st – Gainesville, FL – Backstage Lounge
November 1st – Savannah, GA – Savannah Actor’s Theater
November 2nd – Charleston, SC – The Map Room
November 3rd – Greenville, NC – Spazzatorium Galleria
November 4th – Richmond, VA – Alley Katz

Bring the War to Kreese’s Door!

-Commander

P.S. – To those who live in, or near, Orlando…we are sorry to inform you that your own Social has seen fit to cancel our meeting there. I guess they feel that we can’t “bring the party.” We were forced to move it to Gainesville, FL. War.

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Dearest Comrades,

Baltimore is saved. In fact, Baltimore might be the only free city still standing. Theirs is a city with heart. A city that could overthrow a mighty Russian giant, come away with almost certain brain damage and still win a street fight against a young punk, like Tommy Gunn. Yes, comrades, Baltimore is the New Philadelphia. They have risen up with such force and fury that we have no reservations about letting them stand on their own for a while. Baltimore, we shall return. Stand strong and give the East hope.

A special thanks go out to the dudes of Deadofsummer.org, and Entertainment System, for putting on two ferocious shows. We would like to take this time to thank all those involved with our venture to the Land of the One Eyed Man:

DeadOfSummer.org, you were like the father we never knew, because he ran away when we were only 5..only to return 16 years later, full of Wild Turkey, holding a baseball bat named “Wilson Pickett” and full of a rage that could only be caused by 6 straight months of untreated hemorrhoids.

“I’m sorry Daddy, I didn’t mean to take the last juice box…”

Entertainment System, you were like the baby brother that we never wanted cause we were afraid that you would take away from the collective parental money that was there to buy our Christmas presents…and Laura, sweet Laura, the mom we always dreamed of. You cried when daddy left. You cried the night you heard Doug Fetterman had died. You cried that morning when you awoke to find we had left at 4am on the greyhound to hell… all the way back to Tennessee. And you’ll cry when we tell you we’ll be back in Baltimore soon.And Scarecrow…well, I’ll miss you most of all.

We’ll miss you Baltimore

In the meantime…These are your allies, Baltimore:

Deadofsummer.org, Entertainment System, Powerglove, Anamanaguchi, This Place is Haunted, Temp Sound Solutions / Shawn Phase, Peelander-Z, Karmella’s Game, Avec, The Dollyrots.

Some live and fight in your city. Some traveled a great distance to fight for you. Find them and fight along side them as you do us.

Find our mailing list. Sign your name upon it. If you have faith in the great one, the knife will not cut you. If you have courage…true courage, the rock will not break you. And if you are pure of heart, the arrow will not catch you… and we will send you news.

Here’s a bit of the type of news you will hear when you join the mailing list:The Protomen vs. Walt Disney’s Cryogenically Frozen Head – This Halloween.

As always, we will battle our way to and from the golden city of Orlando

Keep your eyes tuned to the proper channels for more information. Here are some of the proper channels:

Virb.com/theprotomen

myspace.com/theprotomen

last.fm/music/The+Protomen

and, of course, the ever tough Protomen.com

We’ve also received word from Gamepro.com and Gamerhelp.com that an article is in the works dealing with Makeup and Vanity Set’s epic work: Makeup and Vanity Set presents: The Protomen. Thanks to everyone who came out and supported Makeup and Vanity Set’s front-man Armando Apache Putay on our Conquest of the West voyage. We’re happy to report he is making strides in his ongoing battle with Pepto-bismal addiction.

Again, Baltimore, although Commander could not convince the ghost of the corpse of D.Fett. to go fishing with him…we consider our weekend with you a success.

Like…second base success*.

-Panther

* We’ll be back for more.

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In 6 days we invade the land of Edgar Allan Poe’s remains and perform twice to try to revive him for our army:

FRIDAY AUGUST 24TH
MONOZINE / DEAD OF SUMMER / GHOSTFREEHOOD ALLIANCE PRESENT: ULTIMATE KAIJU ALL STAR BARRAGE
Peelander Z, THE PROTOMEN, The Dollyrots, Karmella’s Game, Avec
9:00 p.m.
UPSTAIRS ART OPENING = Ultimate Kaiju All-Star Barrage – a web comics kaiju themed art show. 7pm-9pm
@Ottobar
2549 N Howard St.
Baltimore, Maryland 21218
$10
ALL AGES
CLICK HERE FOR TIX.

SATURDAY AUGUST 25TH
16 BIT GENOCIDE
Bands: THE PROTOMEN, Entertainment System, Powerglove, Anamanaguchi, This Place is Haunted, Temp Sound Solutions
Artists: 8 Bit Artist Jude Buffum Fizzman
@Patterson Theatre
3134 Eastern Ave.
Baltimore, Maryland 21224
$10
ALL AGES
myspace.com/bitgenocide

THESE WILL BE THE LAST BATTLES OF THE NORTHEAST FOR A VERY LONG TIME. FIGHT WITH US! TO THE DEATH!!!!

-MURPHY

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