THE LUNARTICS
All Aboard!
The Irish Lunarcy Tour!
A busload of Lunartics: "Bananas Foster", Cobb Salad, the Tigerblood Brotherhood and the vaguely crazy Mr. & Mrs. Shenanigans.
It was the beginning of the day.
"Top O The Morning To Ya!"
@ Launch was the Launch pad.
The Lunartic Bus was now a roving, "rogue" location. For Foursquare check in.
Oh forget the traditonal "Kiss Me I'm Irish" tweets.
"16 HOURS OF IRISH LUNARCY" blowing up your news feed.
This is when blacking out starts to look like the best option.
Fear a second wind.
Tribal chanting. Primitive ranting. Irish Blissful Ignorance.
"True Fools!"
Oh yes. You Funky Bastard!
Frank fell silent. Quiet on the set.
Fashion never comes cheap.
"Would you like some 'green' cannabis?"
Good Old Vine Street.
Meanwhile, back on the bus, the big time party liaisons checked in.
The camera was running from the time we left Lackman to Haps. It was HAP-pening.
Dancing, Drinking, Debaucher-ing...
Big Pimping meets I'm Shipping Up To Boston.
"The Dead Rabbits, Bowery Boys, The Plug Uglies, The Short Tails, The Slaughter Houses, The Swamp Angels..."
A toast to the ghosts of Deadly Irishmen.
From R.P.'s to F.B.'s, we drank for fun and plunder.
Flying carpet rides to Shanghai were a way to lay low when the bombs hit.
Let's evacuate the bus before it turns us into Lunartics.
The bus driver THOUGHT:
"You'll lose your mind on the Lost Highway!"
Take my word for it.
We did.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
MAYHEM 37
"Bananas Foster!"
Holy Crap! This is the Lunartic Party. "Bomb Your Brains Loose!"
Bombs dropping, word to your Moms.
Bill the Thrill... Wild Bill... Billy Bad Ass.
Like a bat out of hell.
That's right. Partying like an animal is back in style. Animal hours.
VIP dread heads, Jager men, go go galaxy gals and the Golden Owls.
Sign your RELEASE FORM.
It is the "Dinner on the Dance Floor"!
Disco Dons meeting over meat and potatoes.
A "cup cake shot" from the bartending chef was a specialty exclusive.
Happy Birthday Billy-Bob!!!
Name tags are a necessity. Seven degrees of Separation of Bill Bacon.
No relation to Mister Barron.
A camera loving crowd gathers at Fashionable Behavior. The Big Yellow Chair is in the middle of the
picture. Bob's Louie bottles steals the show.
Meanwhile back at the Launch Pad...
Lunar trembles, then lifts off.
Madness. The Movie.
Scene 1 - Sunshine Yellow - Sundown.
It's SHOWTIME!
More Flares! More Flares!
The pros and cons of more fire power was a question raised by the secret agent in shades.
"Migranes", he claimed were the reason for channeling his inner Diddy.
Never mind David Bowman, his brain waves have changed.
Big City, Bright Lights, Jesus H. Christ!
This town it's finally letting it's hair down.
All hell is breaking loose. Swerving to avoid what's happening. All in the name of filming flashbacks.
Who needs George Clooney, here comes the Boss Casino.
Right. Sheridan's 11 is down to about 3. He knows how Sinatra felt.
The King's speech will be without words, unheard, hysterical horrible screaming thoughts.
Winning again.
Oh what a different feeling.
Thirty seven was a very good year.
Holy Crap! This is the Lunartic Party. "Bomb Your Brains Loose!"
Bombs dropping, word to your Moms.
Bill the Thrill... Wild Bill... Billy Bad Ass.
Like a bat out of hell.
That's right. Partying like an animal is back in style. Animal hours.
VIP dread heads, Jager men, go go galaxy gals and the Golden Owls.
Sign your RELEASE FORM.
It is the "Dinner on the Dance Floor"!
Disco Dons meeting over meat and potatoes.
A "cup cake shot" from the bartending chef was a specialty exclusive.
Happy Birthday Billy-Bob!!!
Name tags are a necessity. Seven degrees of Separation of Bill Bacon.
No relation to Mister Barron.
A camera loving crowd gathers at Fashionable Behavior. The Big Yellow Chair is in the middle of the
picture. Bob's Louie bottles steals the show.
Meanwhile back at the Launch Pad...
Lunar trembles, then lifts off.
Madness. The Movie.
Scene 1 - Sunshine Yellow - Sundown.
It's SHOWTIME!
More Flares! More Flares!
The pros and cons of more fire power was a question raised by the secret agent in shades.
"Migranes", he claimed were the reason for channeling his inner Diddy.
Never mind David Bowman, his brain waves have changed.
Big City, Bright Lights, Jesus H. Christ!
This town it's finally letting it's hair down.
All hell is breaking loose. Swerving to avoid what's happening. All in the name of filming flashbacks.
Who needs George Clooney, here comes the Boss Casino.
Right. Sheridan's 11 is down to about 3. He knows how Sinatra felt.
The King's speech will be without words, unheard, hysterical horrible screaming thoughts.
Winning again.
Oh what a different feeling.
Thirty seven was a very good year.
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