Source: sawfan666http://xchaptersx.bandcamp.com/
THIS 1 IS PRETY GOOD THERES JUS SOME BAND OUT THERE THAT R REAL GOOD ABOT BEIN ANGRY AN U CAN JUS TELL IT COME NATUREL 2 THEM AN ITS NOT A ACT AN I REALY BELEVE THESE GUYS R ANGRY AN THERES EVEN 1 OF THE GUTARISTS THATS ALWAYS DOIN ALOT OF DOODLE DEE DOODLE…
Our tour took us through Joplin, MO. They were recently hit by a vicious tornado. I think i speak for all of Chapters when i say that seeing the damage and hearing the stories was.. well, it was beyond words.
These are the reasons I hate being home. We don’t have anything like this.
Forgot to upload this one. I know he doesn’t look like it. But MerauderDon has mad ups.
Pictures of Chapters being dumb on tour. We’re really good at being dumb. But we think we’re hilarious.
Our EP is streaming on bandcamp. Free downloads! Also, go like us on facebook, http://www.facebook.com/xChaptersx REBLOG THIS, PLEASE!
Dear Cowboy Troy, The Pacifier, and Sidekick,
I understand. Really, I do. Your life is pathetic. You don’t want to admit it, but it’s true. You have acres of land and a farm. You have a shitty, dirty, beat up pickup truck. You have an ugly wife who you are sick of fucking (and really, sirs, who could blame you?), so you go to the bar every night with your good ol’ boys and get really drunk to forget about all the times your life could have gone somewhere.
But you never had the guts to do something interesting with yourself, so here you sit, Saturday night, at the Eagle’s Lodge in Atlantic, Iowa. You’ve convinced yourself that you are relevant, that you contribute to society. After all, you voted for McCain! You hate gays and niggers and spics as much as the next guy. Society should THANK you for all the work you do to keep America the way you imagine it should be. In the same way, your bar friends should thank you for what you did last night, forcing In Wake of Betrayal to shut down our show because they were too loud. And then for the way you, as mature, fully grown adults, tried to start a fight with us.
Cowboy Troy, you kept coming back. You really wanted to be a part of this fight and I’m yet to understand why. There were roughly 20 of us who would have torn you apart if you’d thrown the first punch. To use an old cliche from former President Bush (who, incidentally, I’m sure you voted for), we weren’t going to start it, but we absolutely would have ended it. You would have ended up in the hospital. And honestly, the things you were saying to us? You deserved it. We were freaks. We were pathetic. We were destined to always be poor. We were worthless. Any fair person would have understood, had we beaten you to a pulp.
Sidekick, you were hilarious because you thought that you meant something. You were “ONE OF THE TRUSTEES.” Congratulations, sir. I can understand being proud of yourself. After all, who wouldn’t be proud to be a trustee of the Eagle’s Lodge in Atlantic Iowa? That must feel good. The old lady with no teeth who frequents the bar with you guys must really want to suck your dick now.
Pacifier, it must have been especially embarrassing for you. It started with you telling Steve he needed to wear a real shirt, instead of the plastic bag he was wandering around with. Pacifier, I can really only assume one of two things: either you were made uncomfortable by the fact that his abdominal muscles are still visible, unlike yours, which are clearly hidden by 30 years of alcohol pushing your stomach in a horizontal direction, or you were (subconsciously, I’m sure) aroused by the fact that a young man was walking around “your bar” wearing what amounted to a plastic bag bra. So, to cover your insecurity, you were one of the tough ones at first. Standing much too close to us, trying to intimidate all of the smaller band members. When In Wake of Betrayal’s vocalist smashed you against the wall and to the floor for trying to intimidate their much smaller drummer, and then when you spent the rest of the show attempting to make peace, thus earning your name? I hope you weren’t too drunk to understand how humiliated you should feel. I hate to simplify things to this degree, but honestly, Pacifier, he kicked your ass into submission. You were proven less of a man than Luke, one of the so-called “freaks” that Cowboy Troy kept insulting. As they say in Iowa, oof-da. That’s embarrassing.
So, after all this, I can imagine that it would be very difficult for you to see us doing what we do.
After all, we are all young. Remember when you were young? When you could do anything with your life? Actually, scratch that. I can’t imagine that you ever thought you could do anything with your life, if this is where you ended up. Important lives are reserved for the dreamers, for those who can imagine themselves being something bigger. You clearly never looked beyond your daddy’s cornfield, which you then inherited after he kicked the milk bucket.
Naturally, then, your mind assumes that WE are the freaks, which is an interesting assumption. We are freaks. We, the good looking young men, who the attractive young women all showed up to see. That guy with the big earrings that you, Cowboy Troy, so cleverly insulted, by asking “How many earrings ya got there?”, implying (I would imagine) that his oversized plugs make him gay, or less manly? His girlfriend was the pretty brunette who you pushed. Remember a time when you could get a girl like her? I can’t imagine you ever could.
What we do might not change the world. Hell, it might mean nothing whatsoever. But at least we have the courage to try. At least when we were all told as kids “ok, now it’s time to go enter the workforce for the rest of your life” we had the guts to do something we loved. It might never actually work out. Our bands could crash and burn tomorrow. But for now? We have something you won’t ever have, no matter how many times you say the Pledge of Allegiance, or take your American flag in before a storm.
We have real freedom. We spend our days doing what we love. Let me tell you, because you will never know…it’s an amazing feeling. Better than working 9-5. Better than being comfortable. Much, much better than owning acres.
So, in a strange way, I feel sorry for you, but not in an empathetic way. I don’t wish that your life had been better. I’m glad that it’s pathetic. I’m glad that you will never be more than a drunken piece of shit in a small-town Iowa bar, slowly drinking your liver into oblivion until you die, having lived a completely inconsequential life. You don’t deserve better, because you never tried for better. I just wish you were smart enough to understand how pathetic you are. Of course, if you did, you wouldn’t be where you are now.
I guess more than anything, I’m just eternally grateful that a person like you thinks a person like me is a freak. I must be doing SOMETHING right.
