An age old question with a simple answer, though one not so easily explained as you’d imagine. Bruce Genitals is revered by many as one of the greatest, most fearsome heroes in the subterranean Atlantic mythos, though he has been rumored to be an unemployed housepainter in Paris by parties of unidentified and unstable association.
So just who is this man, then?
According the ancient scrolls now housed in the deepest depths of the Smithsonian Institution:
A master of disguise and subversion, fabled to be an enlightened man lost in the mysterious and shadowy world between life and death. It is said that he narrowly avoided his demise at the ripe age of five and a half, fending off multiple demons hellbent on seizing his soul for the black arts. Since that time, he has traveled through time and space with only a guitar and the clothes on his back, determined to discover the truth of his heritage and performing selfless acts of goodness wherever possible. He is rumored in many circles to be more than a thousand years old, and to have fathered celebrities such as King Tut.
Cryptic... These words could mean many things, and we may never know the answer for sure.
-Jon President, staff writer for Gope Magazine, 2002
Or so we thought...
These vast secrets have been sealed away, without exception, for many years...
Until now...
BRUCE GENITALS HAS ARRIVED AT LAST!
Despite technical difficulties on his flight over, as well as surviving a harrowing terrorist attack, as well as terrifying complications during his hospitalization Bruce Genitals has finally arrived here today to unveil his greatest creation.
Now, for a limited time only, you too may enjoy the secrets of the universe, absolutely free. This set of cunningly designed audiotapes, recorded by Bruce Genitals himself, will leave no questions unanswered. Order yours today, you won’t be sorry (unless you don't place an order in which case you will hate yourself forever). So now, without further adieu, I present you with the strange and incredible; I give you...
So what are you waiting for? Act now; become the man you’ve always wanted to be, just like I have...
Note: Unfortunately for myself and the internet, I will be placed in situations beyond my control or comprehension, wherein I will be without access for this weekend, starting Friday and ending Monday night. I’ll tend to the topic (if need be), as best I can before then. Until I return, please try to play nice and have fun with this (dancingdrugssexspeedingflyfishing).
Since I’m sure most of you wouldn’t be happy with just this, I suppose a little explanation is in order (or please, just go ahead and download it and skip the rest of this. It's probably better that way anyhow)...
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Since the release of the Troubador insanity album, Ink Blots, and the subsequent pleasant surprise of widespread positive feedback about my single, Orson Welles Reads My Audiotapes, I’ve been busy at work with more music for the ears of all those who will listen. After about 26 days, I have this to show for it. Enjoy, and by all means, pose any questions which occur to you. I’ll try to address them as I can and I may even be hanging around IRC here and there. There are themes at work here, see how many you get as you listen.
As for the delays...
Unfortunately, after finishing this masterwork, I came across some of the most unusual and horrifying nightmares ever in the process of bringing Bruce Genitals to you. I can assure you that CRITICAL CONDITION was no lie. There was a very legitimate period where I didn't think it would be up here tonight, and I went to incredible lengths to get it up as fast as possible. Sorry for the delay, and don't you dare say FUCK YOU FOR HYPING THIS SO MUCH WITH FAKE RELEASE TIMES. I hope that at least it provided riveting action and entertainment.
A special thanks (of those who will see this///internetpeople), goes out to:
Steel - The best minister of propaganda I could have asked for. You contributed to this in more ways than you even know, and most of all,
Hundley - Facilitated the process by pitching me WOW GOOD STUFF KEEP GOING and "bad unmusical" opinions about what I should do at several points early on the production.
SB (ghastly fucklord -inspiration for Bugjuice), Chef, Shepperd, Adeline, and bðrt - for moral support and inspiration throughout the course of this creative process.
Rami / DS - You have my deepest gratitude for the expanded ftp space.
Those who listened to my track on the first album and commented about it - If my first track wasn't such a success among you guys, I would have been much less hesitant on recording an album, as I'd only shown the track to one person from REAL LIFE, and this forum was the main place I got such positive feedback that it truly inspired me toward something greater. Now I have something truly tangible to show to friends, family, and interneters, strangers and acquaintances alike, who can appreciate it as they wish.
The community at large - Though I’ve distanced myself of late, there are a lot of reasons why this community, at large, has been instrumental in bringing this release about. Its very existence is what offered the catalyst from HEY I CAN PLUG THINGS INTO MY COMPUTER AND RECORD COOL to MAKE A TRACK to MAKE AN ALBUM. I’ve had my share of wow, fuck this place moments, and I can’t say I’m quite fond enough of this place to browse it regularly as in the days of old, but projects like the Troubador albums are a direct result of the community itself, and I think the fact that we’re capable of producing such great (or not so great., though tangible nonetheless) projects, which both inspire and offer chances for exhibition and feedback to artists among a wider audience, is something damn notable. So, thank you, one and all, for accepting my words and work, such as they’ve been through these years.
Lastly, I apologize if the track numbering from the ID3 tags doesn't transfer over in whatever program you're listening with. I meant to number them just in case, but I forgot until it was more than halfway uploaded. If this is the case, then I'd highly recommend ordering them yourself, as they're arranged in the particular order they are for a reason, and it would be a real shame for you to miss out.
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. beards like that do not exist outside of the realm of fiction. so yea back to bruce genitals. there was some soggy idealism that he possessed at an early age that was somehow lost in the great landslide of 1972. One such landslide occurred in Disneyland, a themepark on the southern portion of the island in Ponce. An entire sheet of bedrock in the mountainous region outside of the city collapsed under the oversaturated soil, burying much of the city. the sympathy of an entire nation screamed out but nobody was to hear it as everyone had turned their cellphone to vibrate and left it in their alternate pair of bluejeans, thus making incoming calls completely impossible. they were the living dead, unable to communicate on their cellphones and thus stripped of basic human physical rights and privileges. under such circumstances, communication becomes completely impossible, as we have learned from the late dick clark, a once beautiful man who has fallen to ruin due to the terrors of terrorism. whatever happened to that great channel that i used to turn to to watch dick clark in the morning? i sat in my kitchen in my underpants eating pickles and almost uneatably rotten strawberries and i could not find the channel. there was this sense of overwhelming terror and panic that i do not wish people to ever experience. dick clark becomes part of you and in turn you become part of it. the ball drops on dick clark and you are engaged in this flowing sensation of pure senational goodness that you are not otherwise privileged to, but that you make slightly above minimum wage you are entitled to this almost otherworldly sensation. you often ask yourself how you will cope without this sensory input. to this question you have no answer. it is what it would be like for your consciousness to be forever eliminated. eons upon eons of no you. what is like that. soaring through infinite miles of nothing. the mile means nothing to you. all you can do is fasten that strapon and pray to fucking christ that this anonymous stranger is not going to notice your genital warts. the aliens, i mean. fuck if i understand anything else. i got off at the wrong floor trying to get to fucking work. could this fucking building be any fucking bigger. it did not occur to me until a few moments of stumbling around that these doors were not marked. nor were they unlocked, as i checked them. occasionally i come across a slim, tall window but i do not recognize the skyscape. the way i came from is already gone, as if the building is alive. out of my peripheral vision i see bits of something fly past. i find myself swatting at the thin air. at nothing. i press my face close against the window of a completely unfamiliar skyscape. i see my vague, ghostlike reflection in the window, my eyes wide in complete and total terror. the window doesnt fucking break the doors are unbreakable getting weak from the lack of oxygen. this is nothing like the fucking movies. this is nothing like the fucking movies. i hear something in the distance. i get to my feet, my knees wavering as though thin trees in a mighty storm. there is some sort of beeping noise coming through the walls. it does not sound in-sync with the beeps i had heard consistently throughout my experience here. i smash through the wall and find everybody old friend bruce ganitals sunbathing and i find that i was playing too much of systemshocks2 the video game during my youngyears and they seem to have polluted my subconscious thought and any nearby dreamstates! this was the pretty important day of bruice genitals! i knew he was going somewhere important with his slicked hair back and not-so-vagrant look on his face. i asked him where he was going and how he got there but i did not get a response as i forgot to call him using my cellular phone device. this did not matter either as i had forgotten his numper anyway. i found myself months later in a ginbar in some remote section of Mexico. i really didn't know how i got there. in fact, the last place i remember being was the states some hours ago. i guess this did not matter. i stared forward at the events that played out(that will be revealed in a separate audiotape replease) and it occured to me that my fingers were not around the throat of destiny. i kinda wish they were but i have bad knuckles from a freak accident when my hand ran into a television set and they broke beyond the point of adequate usability. so what have we learned from bruce genitals? i dont really know you tell me. mr. michaels your 11th grade civics professor was a huge shithead and he pretty much ruined civics for you. or even better philosophy. that philosophy class you had with professor wheeler your second year of college. that essay you wrote that was pretty much the greatest thing your pathetic mind will ever come up with on its own. and he gave you a C-. what the fuck was that shit?
