Before I begin my relentless rant, let me first say it feels fuckin’ awesome to be on here with a clear mind. I haven’t updated this blog in what feels like forever and it feels good to be back in the rantin’ business. I’ve got a new mindset, and looking back at my old posts, I’ve definitely moved away from the intensity. I plan on being honest. I plan on pulling strings, pissing you off to the point where you want to retaliate but you just can’t. This is where words are the most powerful. If I name names, so be it, deal with it. If I don’t, and you take offense, then you probably had it coming.

Now, I really hate sounding like a preacher, a ranting fuckwad with no direction in his words, but here we go. I’ll get straight to the point. This whole “free spirit” bullshit is exactly that, complete bullshit. You guys can pose all you want, you’re fake. You can try fake being “free” all you want but there will always be people there that will point out your ingenuities. You can use your trust fund to buy all the materials you need and want, but they’ll be just that. They’ll be materials, no matter what shit you spin them into. I’m not judging your fashion sense (but let’s be honest, you probably wouldn’t be caught dead in it if it wasn’t considered as “in”). I’m merely pointing out that you are not “free spirits.” Free spirits are what I get at an open bar. You are nothing but fakes, trying to grab onto something that will fade as soon as you get a hold of it.

You try to emulate something you’re clearly not. You judge, you crucify others for their choices and claim that your (very similar) choices are superior. Fashion, music, the material, has all become a religion. This religion is worshipped by people who can’t find themselves. It’s for those who have no purpose and only live for the “in-crowd.” To those people I ask, who are you? No, really, who the fuck are you? Do you know who you are as a person? Are you so easily swayed by this new black to the point where you put down your past?

What I’m trying to say is that you are not a “free spirit.” You think you are, but you’re just subscribing to an illusion created by the in-crowd. You’re shelling out your parents’ money (let’s be honest, most of you are trust fund babies, just begging to be the centre of attention) so that you can continue being self-indulgent, self-entitled, elitist douchebags. All the money in the world can buy you all the materials, all the vintage and all the vinyl but, deep down, you can’t change the person you are. You follow blogs like mollysoda and other Tumblr-famous (yes, unfortunately it’s actually a thing) tryhards in order to maintain your elitist poser status. I know I’m not the only one who sees through the bullshit.

So as I sit here and listen to a toxic combination of Operation Ivy and Fucked Up, I bid thee adieu. Guys, keep wearing your Hawaiian shirts, and pants. Girls, your Aztec on Aztec is fuck-ugly. Your uniform lets us know who you are. It’s like the SS of the fashion puked their parents’ wardrobe all over you and slapped a “vintage” label on it.

Remember, there is no enemy. There is only man and machine. The machine keeps on turning and churning clones, and among all these disposable gears, there are the few of us who stay golden.

Chances are nobody will read this far, but if you did, then I thank you. Hell, I thank everyone for reading this and anything else I’ve written. You guys took the time out to listen to “The Bad Guy” so I thank you.

Cheers ‘til next time.

We rocked, went crazy and far beyond

When I look back, I ask myself.

Was it worth it?

Hell Yeah,

Ignore the pain.

Hungover,

But I’ll do it again.

Crying,

Tears made of grit.

Flying,

Oh yes, it was worth it!

-Children of Bodom (Was it Worth it?)

Surprise! I’m back again, just venting some rage, some anger, some distaste, some negativity. You get my point, or do you? I can never be to sure with all the morons around here. Never did I think such a place existed where awkwardness and all things pathetic are worshipped. Alas, I was very wrong. Then again was I?

I’m not too sure, I feel this all fading. I see it all disappearing. Shredding, piece by piece. This anger, this rage, this discontent is slowly fading away and I am slowly falling awake. This void of negativity is draining out of my system. Stress has crushed me and it’s time to let it go. Time to throw it away and rebuild what was once here. This temple will rise again. We will build it again. Find the lost. Lose that which is negative. All this stress has turned the screws of vengeance and buried the temple in hatred and anger. From a place that was once a grounds for relief and positivity, it has slowly transitioned to a place where hatred reigns supreme. A place where people are referred to as hypocrites, troglydites, tapeworms and other insults.

Looking back at my older posts, I’ve noticed that I haven’t listened to my own words in a long time. Sometimes though, you need to take a step back to take two steps forward. That’s what I’m doing right now. I have only myself to blame for all the bullshit that has ravaged this once legendary ground. I won’t let these grounds fall any further from grace. Those days, the negative days where black clouds filled the sky are in the past.

So, without further ado…

10, 9, 8… The crowd quietly rumbles

7, 6, 5… The rumbles get louder

4, 3… Screams emerge

2… They get louder

1… The crowd is deafening

Then, the lights go out. A twisted piece of music plays in the background. Then, it cuts off. “Does history guide you or do you set out to change it?”

Flames burst out and from the ashes, out walks the one, the only, the true Mongoose McQueen. The crowd screams as the Ayatollah of Rock and Rolla finally makes his return. This prettyboy punk with delusions of grandeur is back to heal the damage done. He is back to stitch the wounds and burn the cancer that once ravaged the Temple of Awesome.

There is adversity to overcome, bridges to rebuild. It’s time to wash the writing off the wall and start anew. Now is better than ever to get out of the maelstrom and prove that we’re still plenty alive.

It’s time to see the road ahead, hope for the best, plan for the worst. The stress is always looming, it builds and engulfs entire people. It then spreads, and there is no way to stop it, but there is a cure. That cure is perspective. Putting the road ahead in perspective can relieve all the anguish and stress. The road ahead is a challenging one for some. But to those, I have been down that road. I have gone through what you have and I have come out on the other side. Of course, battle scars remain, but the war ends and life goes on.

I’m sure you all know what war I’m talking about, and all you year 12’s listen. The HSC eventually ends. That is the truth. It’s a war, it really is. But at the end of the day, that’s all it is. Life is much bigger than a few pieces of paper that are dubbed the ‘Be all and end all’. They’re all hot air. They talk more shit than GG Allin fans eat. The piece of paper you get at the end of it might as well be toilet paper. And if you let a piece of paper rule the rest of your life, take a step back. Wake up and smell the coffee. A piece of paper means shit-all. It means nothing. Your own drive and determination mean something. Your life doesn’t depend on a piece of paper. Your life depends on you. Your life depends on your choices. Your life depends on your ability to juggle the bad and the good in such a way that they don’t ever touch. A way that will eliminate the bad.

For now, you’ve got a workload raining down on you like a tonne of bricks. What you’ve gotta do is open your doors. Let life flow. Cutting it off can destroy you. The worst thing to do is become a victim of your own stress. I noticed that shutting myself away under this black cloud made me as helpless as a kumquat. As I fell down in flames, I realised that I’d made a fool of myself. I remained neutral and never let myself shine through. Nobody ever got to see the real me. Hell, nobody ever got to see me. When they did see the real me, it was like the true Ayatollah of Rock and Rolla entered the room and made the biggest of impacts. But like I said, kumquats, dude.

Basically, what I’m trying to say is that while your world might be engulfed in flames right now, all the stops need to be pulled out to make sure that you put out all the flames but 1. That flame is your own. Your fear, your stress is the enemy. Those around you, for the most part, are there to help you out. So fuck everything else and look at all the good around you. Everything good is what will get you through every night that you pry your eyes open to work your ass off. Do not pass up the opportunity to get help. Take as many hands as you can, they’re the only things that can help you get out of shit creek. Many have been there before and are more than willing to help you slay the juggernauts.

Don’t fade away. Not now. Not ever.

Stay Tenacious

The Tenacious One

No quotes, no darkness, no smoke & mirrors. I am back and armed to the teeth. Reblogging pictures must be a tough job for you troglodytic, (a)pathetic trust fund babies. It’s like a prim-and-proper regurgitation of the far grittier, more badass 1990s.

It’s like you all observed the 90s from a Starfucks somewhere and decided, “hey, I’m too gutless to do that, so I’ll just take a few photos and credit myself”. And as for the cameras you take the photos with, please hand them back to your ancestors. This whole ‘new age vintage’ bullshit is about as dense as your intelligence. In other words, not very. You could all be lined up at the gates of Hell and I wouldn’t spare a drop of piss to put you all out.

And as for your attitude, it’s a fountain of originality! (note the sarcasm) It’s just another conglomeration of past generations. It’s like Frankenstein’s creature. What looks like it could be prosperous and bright (and upstanding in the eyes of those born in the 1930s), ends up being grotesque. It then teases nature vs. nurture, which does not apply in this case. See, the nurture is good, but nature turns sour and it’s reflected in the nature of the gelatinous tapeworms who follow these trends.

The image is one of apathy and uniformity. “Yeah, let’s be unique by being the same! See? It’s ironic!” Oh the irony! Oh the ludicrous ricockulousness! It’s just an image of apathetic confusion. And you can’t spell ‘apathetic’ without ‘pathetic’. It’s a death wish. It’s just another case of being lost in the shuffle. And like a whirlpool effect, time will suck you in, then spit you out into obscurity. Nice going! You all blindly follow, like an army of apathetic gears working the machine. A group of slaves in uniform.

That’s all this trend is. It’s a lack of originality, uniform slavery. And masterless slavery at that. All generations and all demographics united under one banner of ignorant stupidity. Gears, working a useless machine, living in fear of escaping the norms. The blind lead the blind through the fiery gates. And like I said, not a single drop.

So f’n good

So fuck your rules man. you’ll step up, you’ll go down fast. I’ve got to rid these of the shit that has made up my past.
So go let your soul dance baby. Time to be yourself at last. Unshackle your life spirit. Try a waver from the past.

-Boy Hits Car (LoveFuryPassionEnergy)

Whoa, haven’t been on here in awhile. I guess it’s all the constant shoving of pictures down my throat or the excessive amounts of angst given off by people who have tumblr accounts. Is it genuine angst or just an sad attempt to be in with the out crowd? I don’t give a fuck cause in reality, tumblr’s just another means to post this pretty face over the interwebs. You can all insult me and such, it’s cool. I know I’m just another prettyboy punk with delusions of grandeur. I don’t care what everyone thinks. I like posting rants, so I will rant from here to fuckin’ eternity if I have to. Pictures may tell a thousand words, but a thousand words gets your point across to everyone, while pictures convey differing perceptions to viewers.

History does not guide me. I set out to change it. I have a tumblr, yet, unlike the 99% of the tumblr community, I will not submit and subscribe to the holier than thou yet self-deprecating, oxymoronic attitude that is given off by most posters. All you hypocrites can wallow in your own fabricated self-pity, but that ain’t my style. While you sycophants compliment imagery, I will verbally conquer this illiterate wasteland. Just keep sippin’ your tea, having your crumpets, maintain your alternative, holier than thou attitude and please, learn to love yourself rather than your self-hate.

In the meantime, I will be here, probably not as bitchy as today, but this was only cause my entire news feed was filled with images. You can post images til the sun goes down, I don’t care. My words mean more than your apathy.

So there’s a new name… The Prettyboy Punk with Delusions of Grandeur. Remember that while I blast my metal and punk. Remember that I’m saying no to pop culture and yes to me. Fuck your rules. This is the Temple of Awesome, I am the Tenacious One. I will do what I want while I say no to both the alternative and the mainstream.

If I ain’t drunk then it ain’t Christmas
You know where to stick those jingle bells
If I ain’t hammered it ain’t hanukkah
Fa la la la la go fuck yourself!

-Corey Taylor (X-M@$)

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages. The Temple of awesome wishes you all a merry fucking christmas. ‘Tis the season to give gifts and blame it on a 300 pound dude who manages to travel around earth in one night and remain invisible. Welcome to the Temple of Awesome.
Christmas is supposed to be a special occasion, one where family gets together to watch a lamb slow roasting over charcoal. Where people spend their savings in selfless acts of giving to others, whether less fortunate or not. And although many see it as fair, it’s far from it. When I was a wee little lad, I always wondered why the fat man would buy spoilt little fuckers massive gifts, while good-hearted yet less fortunate people were given next-to-nothing. Sometimes you’ve just gotta lay it all out there to see the whole picture. In times of selflessness, you’d expect everyone to be selfless, but we all know that it’s not the case.
In this time of giving, I believe that those less fortunate people need all the help they can get. Hell, they need it all the time, but it shits me when they don’t get anything. It’s not fair. But then again, not everyone’s a nice person. In recent months, I’ve come across the nicest people I’ve ever met. I’ve managed to pick myself up and shine a light through my own darkness, but it was the help of others that greatly contributed to the construction of this temple.
I, the Tenacious One, do not despise Christmas, but rather the lack of generosity shown by many, the true revelation of their selfishness. I want to wish everyone a merry fucking Christmas, and may you all stay kind, safe and Tenacious.
And with that, I shall get outta here before I become a Christmas Caroling zombie.
The Tenacious One

And to my Tenacolytes, you can leave your Christmas wishes in the form of a question and I will answer them. Unlike the fat old 300 pounder who just ate my cookies and drank my milk, I may not be able to give you a nice, shiny gift that you’ll get bored of after x amount of hours. I can however give you pearls of wisdom from the great Temple of Awesome, which will keep you reeking of awesomeness 24/7

I’m on the outside
I’m looking in
I can see through you
See your true colors
Cause inside you’re ugly
You’re Ugly like me
I can see through you
See to the real you

-Staind (Outside)

The darkness looms. All is black, all is dead. A light then appears in the distance. Noise pierces the deafening silence and life is returned. Rust disappears, and reason returns. Hearts pump with a purpose and blood flows. The state of stagnation that once erased life has become nothing but a mere blip on the horizon of a new day. We are outnumbered but not outmatched. We are all equal, we are all outside each other and are as ugly as each other. Vide Infra, we are all one, we will walk together through the barren wasteland. We will restore what was destroyed and exist beyond the lame duck position that we were cursed with. So I ask again…

“Does history guide you or do you set out to change it?”

The lights come back on, the people rush to the barricades and scream as the blast door opens. The gears turn as the pyro goes off. The gates open and the Temple is revealed. Welcome back, welcome out of the darkness, welcome to the Temple. At the foot I stand. The Tenacious One himself, Mongoose McQueen. Hope is restored as the darkness begins to fall. Tenacity once again becomes reality as motivation spreads like the wings of a phoenix as we rise from the ashes. We rise as one, as reality. We are all ugly, we are all real and we are all equal. Nobody is placed higher than another, regardless of race, creed or gender. The Tenacious One is merely one of a Nexus, a union rising against the darkness that threatens to engulf all hope.

The Tenacity has returned and will not disappear anytime soon. The Temple is open and Mongoose McQueen is back, baby! The negative emotions have been flushed, eradicated and completely eviscerated. Welcome to The Temple. The Ayatollah of Rock and Rolla has returned with a resounding impact that will be heard. While all the sheep worship their hypocrites and sycophants, I, The Tenacious One ask of all to stay Tenacious, to stay true to yourself and remember that you’re ugly inside, that we’re all ugly inside, but we are one.

Stay Tenacious

The Tenacious One

You will not waste my time
I will do anything
I want to anyway

This will be the end of everything that you know
I know we’re killing for the raven so here we go
Don’t even try to hold me down
Watch me
Be afraid

-Stereomud (The End Of Everything)

The call echoes throughout the arena, but the arena no longer exists. A vacant, hollow, empty shell of what it once was. Rusted from absence, drained of all its energy, all of its power. History guides you and never changes. Only the call of the Raven remains and resounds throughout the empty shell. The Temple’s closed, and the awestruck nonexistent. All remain in existence but permanently exist as a powerless nexus. The fear becomes overwhelming for many, but hearts keep beating, never stopping. They pump as one and pump for nothing. They merely exist for the sake of existence.

All remains unquestioned… Those who question the answers are thrown under the bus. They are led to believe that life is a brutal fight until we choke. Their last breath is never heard, their tears remain suspended in a timeless state while their remaining hopes and emotions are drained permanently. The light fades and all becomes black, all becomes lifeless. Noise is nonexistent, sound has no place in this cruel, rusted shell, except for the call, which pierces through the deafening silence of this united mass, stagnated in unison.

The remains of life are held in the eyes, in what they saw, in what they did. Their impression is felt by few or many. Their windows into the unknown are drained of colour, they lose any emotion that was once contained within. The call remains as black beaks peck away at the eyes, leaving only feathers behind. As the wings spread and methodically blacken all in existence. The call spreads futility to the lawyers, disease to the doctors and sin to the preachers as the wings engulf all existence. All eventually disappears, and only shells remain. Dark, vacant shells, rusted from absence, drained of all energy. The end of everything.

Great find! Took me 20 minutes to master them all, except the bass ones. I’d rather run my tongue through a cheese grater than play bass. That’s why you’ve gotta stay Tenacious, don’t stop at less than 6 strings, unless it’s a ukulele, in which case, enjoy your tiny miniature guitar. Keith Moon, Jimi Hendrix and every screamo singer since Ronnie Radke have got nothing on the Ayatollah of Rock N’ Rolla.

Stay Tenacious

The Tenacious One

All of their bodies around me
I hear their voices inside
The battle’s over
This war has been won

-Escape The Fate (The Aftermath, G3)

The dust builds, the crowd leaves the arena in disappointment. “What? That’s it?” “We knew this would come, we knew that this slick Mongoose would escape and not return” To those people, I say, You think you know me. You will never know me, you are lost and scared. I’m still here, I’m still standing and come Survivor Series, I will be the LAST. MAN. STANDING!

The triumphant return is finally here. El Guapo himself is back baby! And if you don’t like it, you can hit the bricks, junior. We have fought, we have scratched and clawed our way to survival, we held on, so welcome to the Aftermath. The Guillotine has fallen, and our necks are safe. If you were Tenacious, you survived and were able to disembowel your weakness, wearing it as an armour. Survival is the key, and it is there for you to utilise. It’s now up to you to find your door and unlock your destiny. This war was ours, but now it’s yours, the weapons are in your hands, you create the battlefield. Some may convince you to create a virtual battlefield, they may coerce you to retain your chastity over your freedom. They will imprison your enjoyment and your ego. But each to their own. This Tenacious one personally wants to be free, to be a Free Bird… Fuck no! Not the ones from Badstreet, U.S.A. (Their theme does kick significant ass though) but I’m talking about the unchangeable, unshakable Free Bird that Lynyrd Skynyrd rocked through for 9 minutes at a time.

It’s time to go home, to be you. To be the best you that you can be, the you that will never have to live with being ‘Forever alone’ or ‘Forever A Clone’ for that matter (Unless you fancy falling victim to the mannequin effect, which I talked about in my incoherent HSC ramblings).

Ladies and gentlemen, the fight is over, go home, be you and only you, nobody else. The Guillotine has fallen, and we are all safe, stick to those who make you better. Become better, continue visiting the Temple Of Awesome.

Stay Tenacious

The Tenacious One