blowing up.

undead shambling hordes?
zombie destruction?
real-time serious training for the collapse, duders.
we are all about that here in the white mountains,
and the Fortress is peopled with peoples
who know all about what time it is.
huh?
what time is it?
ZERO hour, obviously.
duh.
this is not a shrill shill drill, guys,
this is the real big action-
we've got all the stuff,
we're making more stuff,
we're taking it to eleven,
and to the future.
believe it.
even the insiders in the industry are down with our flavor.
yuuuuuuuuup.
we're overpreparing, gearing up,
and getting out the word.
you know what that means?
...we're getting that hard-style press, b!tches.
y'ever heard of soldier systems?
no?
you are definitely missing out, then, sucka.
click this link, mutha-'uckas..,
c'mon.
so now you know,
and what's more,
you know you like it.
*
okay, then-
you love being alive.
you love not being eaten alive.
you love surviving the end times like a worthy warrior.
soooo,
you obviously wanna support that survival-type hottness!
you DO want to support your favorite barbarian poet, right?
i hope so.
well then stop procrastinating and get rad.
where's your credit card at?
get it out, neighbors,
and buy some flippin' targets.
like now an' that.
yes.
that's a real thing.
go here.
then,
click on that mass quantity sh!t,
because the object is always more....
and Gimme Some Money, SON!!!
oh, and keep in mind,
i'll know about it if you don't get EXPERT.
start spooning over those movie checks,
in F*ing full effect, right now.
today,
it's target practice,
tomorrow it's life or death.
practice makes perfect?
more like:
perfect practice makes perfect.
and you'll need a lot of targets for that.
did i mention you can get the specs for
our entry-level walking dead elimination rifle
and order one, too, right this minute?
no?
the denial model is ready,
and waiting,
for your greasy sticky little trigger fingers, yo.
then would you like to know more?
then you should be clicking this link, too.
you read that?
good.
you like that free-state assertion jauns, huh?
naturally.
that's because it's dope.
now,
i'll ask again:
who wants to play dress-up?
i need zombies,
i need zombie defenders,
i need it all,
and i need it now.
read the press,
buy a rifle,
practice with our targets,
and get ready.
the life you save will probably be your own,
but those movie checks won't hurt us much either.
unless you're a weak-sauce waterbaby,
you're as excited as i am.
all of it, kids.
it's happening.
big things, good things, everythings;
never quiet, never soft.....

the really real.

memory is a funny thing.
hilarious, almost.
i remember vermont with sort of fond
recollections of good times, honest folks,
a down-homey familiarity,
and a sense of community.
duders,
i must have been on the teleport for too long,
because burlington, vermont
was a festering sorespot of scabrous collegiate 'tardation,
lefty old-timers, and crusty street beggars,
all at once,
in a row,
as hard as physically possible.
it was like cthulu and dagon had a baby in lake champlain,
insinuating it's inconceivable essence into the waters,
and transforming my memories into polymorphed
versions of their subconcious peripheral components.
the resulting creatures were going out of their way to
make our anniversary a nightmare of flesh and geometry
beyond the scope of human comprehension.
turns out, i don't like that sh!t at all.
like, at ALL, at all, y'all.
word up.
and there we were, surrounded by the basest beasts
of higher education, social tolerance,
and do-goodery proliferation....
what could we do?
there is only ever one true answer,
only one option to select,
only one level to take it to-
yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
we chose the wrench, (disguised as chopsticks)
and tightened it right up to eleven.
when the festering filth of an entire state
coagulates all around the best of intentions,
and more is the only available amount of awful,
you hump the mutha-F*ing beehive, b!tches.
that's right.
we saw the opportunity, and we took it.
we planned on a semi-romantic gorgeous gorge-fest
and we got completely EXPERT all up on that mutha-licker.
more.
the object of our mercy mission.
more.
the amount of comestibles combusting in our bodies.
more.
the only thing we always know there will be extra of.
neither the biggest, nor the most beautifullest,
just the most.
-
dear my bellyhole,
your glorious capacity will be sung of by the bards,
in valhalla, until ragnarok.
-
dear my butthole,
you will be the chorus, refrain,
and ultimate crescendoed coda
to the songs, by instigating ragnarok.
-
dear my face,
sorry about all that.
-
neighbors!
a single pebble 'saved' the day.
that's right,
the day, and the whole night,
were rescued by a brutal shark-gluttonous
session of ingestion and excess.
so when i say saved,
i mean we took ourselves out of the action
through the commission of grotesque acts
of self-sabotage,
thinly veiled as an anniversary dinner.
fact.
check the teleport:

weird nuts!
(that's what she said)
the proper way to activate the nutrients.

cukes with spicy-greased wetness!!

double dumps!!!.
seriously, we had another 'nother order, too.

string beans with brown bits!!!!

sponge bombs!!!!!
actually, sponge implies lightness.
these are turbo heavy scallion full-pantload diapers.
with two kinds of smear-your own skidmarks.

a whole pot of slimy sh!t!!!!!!

buddhist beef!!!!!!!
lame babies call it 'mock duck'
really real ninjas know better.

rice!!!!!!!!
also known as the expanding capacity destroyer.
usually, this is an optional aftermarket destruction add-on.
but, a pee-pantsed dirt-bum touched me,
so i had to go to rice-town to redirect the pain.

sticky rice & mint leaf throw-up blops!!!!!!!!!
(eaten already)sorbet!!!!!!!!!!
orange slices!!!!!!!!!!!
dessert, and the citrus that keeps you
from getting scurvy when the check comes.
gross?
yes and no.
quantity, but not taste, i mean.
***********
some hotels offer free breakfast.
but complimentary champagne?
where we go, they GOT they.
however,
the delivery service leaves
a truly horror moviesque amount to be forgiven.
what do i mean?
okay, my ninjas, how about this?
the concierge knocked once,
let himself into the room,
and experienced an in-the-dark, underpantsed
berserker barbarian "politely" refusing their
considerate adverse anniversary package.
reread that please.
focus hard on the let-himself-in part.
that's a thing in burlington, i guess.
who does that?
mutha-lickers who want to get an eyeful of
hot fire and lightning, i'm guessing.
duders,
imagine if there had been some
actual grown-up big kid romance-times in media res?
don't worry, it's cool.
i needed a little something extra to really REALLY
make sure the nutrtients were fully absorbed during my stay.
a barnstorming success, i'd say, right?
*
there's no place like home,
and not super-surprisingly,
we're already back already.
too much is the right amount,
but only when it's a good thing.
and we wouldn't have wanted to overstay our welcome
with our attentively vouyeuristic hotel staff, now would we?
.......no.
we wouldn't.
when it all really happens,
it is usually happening to me.
and thank heavens for that little slice of itself.
i'd hate to have all this happening get wasted
on a poor-caliber storyteller.
the secret universal plan looks out for it's own;
never quiet, never soft.....

rabbitrabbit.r.a.b.b.i.t.

the first words out of my mouth,
first thing in the wee small hours of the
deepest, darkest darkness before dawn.
you know:
rabbit rabbit.
spout it, shout it, flout it.
good miki-fikin' luck,
for your face, for my face, for everybody,
for the whole long cold month of november.
i doo-doo that compulsive repetition sh!t.
remember mona lisa?
c'mon,
obviously i mean the slick rick song,
and not the whoopi goldberg eyebrow'd painting....
anyway,
what was the best part?
...'it don't matter, see? i'm not picky-'
let me spell it out for y'all:
r for rad
a for activation
b for balls that need suckin'
b again, because i've got a lot of heavy duty clankers
i for i couldn't care less if you wanted to read about balls or not
t for turds.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
because rabbit poop looks like all-bran cereal!
hahahaha.
it's true, though.
consistent with the primal urge to spit out some superstitious sauce
and replenish the fickle nutrients of ephemeral fortune,
i awoke with a jump-start shock of wide-awake open-eyed
alertness, and said the spell that conjures up some
placebo-type nerve-soothing hottness.
but,
i also got up turbo early-shirley
because i've got to get ready.
that's right, neighbors.
today is the day, again.
all saints' day.
hallowmas, for your A*!
and you all already know what THAT means, right?
wait, what did you just say?
church? seriously?
what are you, a clown or something?
because you must be joking.
no, dummy, not church.
far from it.
it's my second blissful matrimonial anniversary, son!
correct.
me and my wifey, together an' sh!t,
for two lawfully wedded years.
recognize, duders,
the traditional gift is cotton.
awwwwwwwww, man.
that's weak sauce.
and considering i'm from the hometown of the inventor
of the cotton gin and it's hulling spikes of efficiency,
i think i've more than had my fill of that noise.
no, for real-

what's up, eli whitney?!
that duder could rock a cravat like the champion.
just sayin'.
you can't drink a cotton gin,
and i've already got underpants and sheets and shirts.
my textile and fiber supply is stocked.
i guess we'll have to settle for something else.
.....like a whole day of blistering excess.
you read it here first, yo.
too much is the right amount,
and it's the perfect fall day for an overdose of dopeness.
*
so, yeah, kids.
it is, in fact, my anniversary.
that means it's time to get molto activated
on that eleventh-level romance jauns.
i mean,
who wouldn't get activated by this much expertism?

c'mon.
killin' zombies in the style of the great gatsby?
wordimus prime, old bean.
hallowe'en is still dope.
we've got plans,
we've got missions,
we've got action items.
big busy business, b!tches.
we GOT they.
participation is assured,
togetherness is guaranteed,
and satisfaction is a distinct possibility.
goals and ends and outcomes, mutha-F*ers.
we're on that jam-packed work weekend
breakaway-type getaway action...
if you mincey mudpuddles can't hang out with romance,
you can get it poppin' like the two b's in rabbit.
oooooooh!
***********
two years on, legit and legal,
with a great many more before that-
i am still grateful for this perfect pairing.
the minutes matter more alongside my mrs.
fact.
spanning time, spanning space,
it's really happening,
and i couldn't be happier;
never quiet, never soft.....

berserker barbarian battle-beast.

HALLOWE'EN!!!
what's up, neighbors?
how about some savage stormswept raging fury?
or a bolt of lightning-striking viking thunder?
a little scalding skaldic shamanism?
a buttload of berserker barbarian battle beast business?
take your pick, duders, we got all those jauns...
because when it's time to get EXPERT,
the woodsly goodness gets activated to eleven.
fact.
proof?
check the teleport, live from the past,
transmitting directly to the future:

what?
oh, you're welcome.
huh?
yes,
the early winter tundra landscape adds something.
yes,
it is brutally cold outside.
yes,
i do remember when i actually had hair like that.
yes,
hallowe'en is F*ing awesome.
the answer,
as it blows in on the antlered winds of war,
is yes;
never quiet, never soft.....

trick OR treat.

happy hallowe'en, mother-F*ers!!

yeah.
bats, black cats, rats, spiders, an' sh!t.
all that ghost & goblin ghoulish ghastliness
in hard-style hard-pounded full effect.
i'm all up on those zombies, duders,
and vampires, and witches, and wolfmen,
and b!tch-A* wraptard mummies,
and pumpkins all over the mutha-lickin' place.
hallowe'en!
the best holiday, bar none, hands down, no joke.
going to eleven, on the 31st, is what's up.
c'mon, neighbors,
you know you want to dress up and get rad,
with fake and/or real blood,
plastic teeth, plastic hair,
and a pillowcase for fillin' with tooth-fillin' forecasts.
i'm reppin' big-bar neighborhood aspirations,
you know the ones, duders.
where all the upscale crackery white people
try to big time the bite-size budget jauns i used to
collect from my old 'hood.
that's right, y'all-
occupy new hamphire like a tricky trickowe'ener.
that's where you change outfits a couple times a night,
and dominate that fancy block with candy commando sh!t.
sorry 1%, but i'm taking it back, goonies-style.
*
oh, yeah.
all you double-X chromosome folks?
too much eye make-up (my favorite) is the rule for the ladies.
[decreed.]
slather those bandit-mask zorro eyes on your face.
for serious,
you'd better look like your mom was part panda,
or raccoon, or a reverse orca, or somethin',
because that's that hottness-type jauns from the future.
fact.
eyeshadow, mascara, and eyeliner, honey.
get busy- it's hallowe'en,
now don't get cheap on me,
just do your make-up like you are.
which reminds me, speaking of cheap-
hey ladies!
if y'all aren't dressed-up in only your underwear
(oxymoronic)
and a prop, like devil's horns, or a stethoscope,
to signify what your 'costume' is supposed to be,
well,
then you're probably not actually all that serious
about trick-or-treat trick-turning.
huh?
it's a hooker pun...try to stay on topic, yo.
just sayin', b!tches,
costumes are 'posed be dope, not just slutty.
dope AND slutty, preferably, if at all possible,
but definitely just-be-dopeness comes first.
i mean, there's snow outside, after all,
so put some pants on.
remember,
there's no whore in horrifying.
oh, c'mon.
that sounds better than it reads, for sure.
damn you, heterographic homophones.
***********
duders,
for the record?

vegan = suckiest mischief night possible.
it's turbo hard to get EXPERT when
all you've got are egg substitutes.
throwing applesauce containers just seems silly,
and egg replacer would probably just create another
'nother terror red alert anthrax scare.
alas, the only non-threatening white powder up here
is snow.
and we have that, too.
awwwww, man.
*
neighbors,
am i underselling it?
it's hallow-flippin'-we'en, ninjas.
aren't you excited yet?
that's right... actually, DAS IT!
i've got to work a little tiny bit,
but that isn't gonna sh!t in my salad, SON.
i've still got cupcakes and cookies and goobieblops,
and i'm bringin' a whole burly batch of that stuff
to sugarbomb the tattbomb studio,
and get everybody on that crucial collywobble kick.
tomorrow,
it's november,
and my anniversary,
and my weekend,
and NOT hallowe'en.
but today is the day,
and tonight is the night,
and it's ALL really happening.
i'm tattblasting in full costume, kids.
if you're around, you should totally stop by.
there will be tricks AND treats,
loud, fresh, and hard....for your face.
if you aren't 100% all about hallowe'en,
you can definitely join the long list of haters,
and the equally numerous unnamed off-the-listers,
and immediately commence sucking all the balls, y'all.
i've been celebrating for days,
but i've got at least another 72 hours of expertism in me.
trick or treat,
shawn hebrank's feet (scarier than anything else in the world)
and plenty of some things that are good to eat.
today, tonight, right this moment;
never quiet, never soft.....

long nights, hard times.

woodsly goodsly heroic success, b!tches!!
that's no joke.
we had a totally EXPERT party night,
all night, with our worthy warriors.
a full-blown funtime frenzy in the face
of the brutal, frigid, awful snowstorminess.
our active participants got involved,
and got it going all the way to eleven.
costumes, cupcakes, cranberry ginger ale,
all that sh!t,
for every single body's face,
as loud, hard, fresh,
and cast-iron woodstove hot fire spat
as it could possibly be.
wu-TANG! my ninjas.
we had mutha-uckas drive up in the blizzard
all the way from the stormswept seacoast.
that's sleepover party-type jauns, y'all.
we GOT they.
a little nor'easter isn't gonna put the weak sauce
douse on our dream date debut.
...fact.
active participation was the decree,
and all my peoples, and all their peoples,
kept it realer than real, y'all.
nearly everybody repped a costume.
-that's hallowe'en spirit-type jauns,
and that is also expert(e').
nobody showed up F*ed up,
nor openly wished there was booze
or other lame b!tch-holery.
-(Folk Life ninjas know better than that.)
almost everyone interacted with aplomb,
although the unadept wallflowers opted to abstain.
tooth decay, hyperglycemia, and bellyaches
were promoted, nay, encouraged all night long.
i mean, c'mon,
there was a whole mutha-forkin' table jammed up
with futuristic next-level optimal treeeeeeeeeeeeeeats!
from goobieblops to apple turnovers to cuppycakes,
we had the display activated, and the nutrients infused.
add in a drifting dose of shed feathers
from a couple of costumes,
and you could almost imagine the eagles' eggs
we didn't use in the fluffy stuffing of our vegan dopeness.
duders,
some of you missed out.
it's okay.
i'm not silently judging you....
i'm openly declaring that you lost out
on some seriously good times, good people, and good food.
however,
the success of our soiree,
and the social interaction we incurred,
leads me to believe you'll have another opportunity
to get involved soon enough....
don't F* up twice, though, yo.
that's word.
**********
so we had a party.
and it was dope.
this morning, however, the party is clearly over-
and now THIS is happening-
teleportational weather vortex activation?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup:

awwwwwwwwwwww, man.
that's a burning bush, and a freezing snowheap.
nature cancels itself out sometimes.
neighbors,
we got those heavy goopy inches,
and that inopportune ejaculation of craptarded moisture
is already giving way to melty messiness
and miles of mires of mud.
what do you know about autumn leaves
and mountainous mounds of snow, yo?
it's futuristic photo-op sh!t, for sure,
but that's too hard a style for october, kids.
and yet,
it's happening right now.
*
aaaaaaaaaand,
tonight is mischief/devil/hell night, too.
i expect all non-vegans to huck a few eggs
at all your least favorite folks' houses.
jack-moves, yolking on some waterbabies, y'heard?
and all the high-and-mighty haughty dietary elitists
had better at least soap some windows,
or shaving cream some door handles...
property damage is what's up.
i know you've got a spare roll of A*wipin' paper
and i know you can think of a tree or statue
that needs mummification.
get busy, my ninjas.
tonight's the night;
never quiet, never soft.....

tonight is the night.

a whole bunch of hours full of not caring
about whatever is happening are about
to get poppin' on this gelid saturday.
the exception would be if i kickstart a batch
of those no-bake goobieblops with chocolate and
peanut butter an' that.
otherwise,
if it isn't a tooth-dacying decadent delight,
or sweetened in some severe quantity,
then i refuse to give even half of a sh!t
about any and all non-hallowe'en, non-party-related,
 busybody busywork business.
just sayin', neighbors...
there's tatty-o's what need zappin',
and i'll doo-doo the whole lot of 'em,
but does tattbombin' compare to THIS?:

nooooooooooooope.
c'mon, mutha-lickers.
spiced pumpkin cupcakes,
with maple-infused frosting?
and spr(a)nkles??
yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
activation is engaged,
and the nutrient-rich really realness
is fresh from out of the oven.
what time did YOU get up this mornin'?
because on the real, i was up before dawn,
getting expert on my party costume.
fact.
check the flippin' teleport,
and prepare your face for some loud, fresh, hardness:

berserker barbarian warrior poet jauns, y'all.
that's what's up.
worst vegan ever?
shawn 'the taxidermist/dead bird lover' hebrank.
runner up?
yours truly.
multiple animal parts were certainly harmed in the making
of this heroic tribute to the hyborian age.
bones, bits, skins, and sh!t.
beauty is pain.
life is pain.
life is beautiful.
so is my costume.
wordimus prime, kids.
if you can't hang out with the hallowe'en holiday hottness,
you've positively GOT to suck the balls.
and i don't mean the paper-wrapped popcorn ones, son.
***********
we're just hours away from uber-excellence.
darkness is the signal,
and the stating point;
snow or no,
it stays hot and fiery in this fortress, my ninjas-
even in the cold and wet tricky treat-defeating weather.
the spirits and the memories in the making
are haunting our homestead with Folk Life flavor.
woodsly goodness.
here.
tonight.
if you've got the wherewithal,
and the elbow grease,
and the motivation,
and the eagles' eggs,
i've got a couple of goodies for you;
never quiet, never soft.....

nature vs. winning.

oh, man!
the weatherman is tryin' to F* my A*.
i'm not even kidding that hard.
at the very least,
he's forecasting some doo-doo butter
for our late night pre-hallowe'en partytimes.
up to 11 inches of snow?!?
in october, on our special night,
before it's even the season for raking leaves.
i mean,
c'mon, ma nature,
are you trying to be a b!tch?!
frost-laced deep-drift pumpkin jauns
are not we had in mind for our fun time
active participation sensations, suckas.
on the ones,
i'd prefer some rustling leaves,
unsettlingly warm temperatures,
and a crystal clear sky.
instead,
we're getting hard pounded by the whole world.
lame.
we'll still be here,
with a roaring fire,
and some faux furs,
and a whole array of dazzling deliciousness.
really, really real ninjas are still invited.
neighbors,
it's happening,
the good and the bad,
the hard and the easy,
the dopeness and the F*ing right off.
that's no joke, either.
***********
i tattbombed all day long,
after i made some mocha-java cookies,
and before the mini-apple pies went in the oven.
pumpkin cupcakes are up next.
(they get maple frosting, folks)
if nothing else,
i'll have enough sweet treats to go into a sugar shock,
and rot my flippin' teeth right out of my head.
and i'll do my dirt all by my lonesome,
but i sure won't tap out.
nature wins,
but warrior poetry conquers.
fact.
we're bracing ourselves,
and we're baking our faces off.
i wouldn't do a single thing differently,
except maybe i'd tell a few more folks to
suck on these gargantuan balls, y'all;
never quiet, never soft..... 

what's cooking?

actually,
nothing is cooking.
but baking?
yeah,
we got those jauns all a-poppin'.
there's a party up here on the 29th.
most folks are making apologies,
or excuses,
and exempting themselves from showing up.
that's cool.
more delicious mutha-flippin' treats for the rest of us.
like what?
you know 'em, you love 'em,
jeez louise, you have to have 'em-
neighbors,
the teleport has all it can handle checking this noise:

rock blocks!
chocolate coconut oatmeal peanut butter chocolate chip.
c'mon.
that's fancy, and expert, simultaneously.
huh?
there IS more:

batter up, b!tchbags.
graham choco-loco cinnamon chip mini-cakes!!
(from the future).
yes, indeed...
there's other 'nother other sh!t up in here, as well.

plans, ingredients, and activation, son.
we take it to eleven in the oven of lovin' department.
that's a thing, and a place.
the woodsly headquarters are abuzz.
jack o'lanterns are being carved as i type,
baked goods are rising in the hot box,
batter is resting,
flour is sifting.
it's really and truly your loss if you don't get here.
saturday night.
wear a costume,
and bring your appetite;
never quiet, never soft.....

rolling.

guess who spent the afternoon
in the warehouse headquarters
of ZERO heavy industries,
preparing packages,
folding cartons,
and rolling up pack after pack
of nutrient-rich zombie training targets?
yep.
it was me.
but i wasn't alone, ninjas.
i'd have gotten lonely.
awwww, man.
luckily,
the whole team was present and accounted for,
and the participation level was very high.
plus,
we got to touch and lick all the guns.
that always get the expertism activated, for sure.
that's how i make moves, kids-
working on a wednesday,
like a wotan-worshipping warrior poet
of capitalist commercialism.
just sayin' duders,
those movie checks don't come for free,
and i'm on that time-ratio investment action,
putting up, instead of shutting up an' that.
it's becoming a tangible item of super-hottness:
someday soon you mutha-lickers
will have the mouse-click consumer capability
to have our trio of targets delivered directly
to your doorsteps.
that's real.
huh?
when's that gonna be?
when it's ready, neighbors.
be easy.
***********
whaaaaaat?!
somebody must've just spread the news
about how much we love hanging out with our
hard-style homeboys and girls during the
very best holiday season in the whole wide world.
seriously,
we've got duders coming in from all over.
pre-hallowe'en partygoers, even.
like, dinner plans with our out-of-state aces.
tonight, even.
that makes it into a whole so-a'spooky week of
peoples getting rad alongside us.
and that's word.
real mutha-uckers know what's up.
plus,
as added incentive for those with sweet teeth-
on the evening of the 29th,
there will be rock blocks for everybody.
and as we all already know,
if y'all can't hang out with rock blocks,
well,
then there's a set of gnarly balls around here
somewhere that you're gonna have to start suckin'.
fact.
don't hate, b!tch-holes,
it's just that hard, loud, fresh Folk Life & Liberty jauns,
and it's all really happening.
you're invited,
so grab your costume and get busy;
never quiet, never soft.....

P.F.D.

perfection,
from start to finish.
beginning to end.
non-stop hottness,
from sun-up to the dusky twilight.
how dope is it up here in new england,
in the fall,
during hallowe'en week?
well,
for starters,
the introductory dopeness levels go to eleven:

that's right, neighbors.
right here is where it happens.
all the magic.
all the time.

grandiose and sh!t.
post-peak foliage season is when
the whole mountain range gets rad.
full-blown expert-type freshness,
from peaks to creeks.

stay gold.
...like a mutha-ucka, SON!
really-real life,
in the woodsly goodness.
documented as it happens.
where the F* are you duders
while this natural victory is getting activated?
y'all are clearly missing out;
never quiet, never soft.....