Day 1 if you are an idiot who didn't buy tickets for the pre-party.
The next morning we got up pretty early to start our metal day. First thing, we figured out was that we fucked up. We forgot to buy new t-shirts last night. We'll just have to make do with what we got. Luckily I brought three extra Manowar shirts. You can never have too many. We checked the coolers and noticed that we were getting low on beer. We were down to our last 3 cases. Have to make another beer run tonight if we can find something open in this fag town after six.
Down at the front check-in booth, we asked the dude where we could get some coffee. He said that there was Starbucks down on Peachtree. We told him we didn't want a bunch of queer yuppy coffee - we wanted real coffee. Like McDonalds or something. He said there was a Wild Bean Cafe at the BP station down from Starbucks. Sounded good to us. We asked how to get there. He said to drive down on Peachtree about 8 blocks and turn left on Peachtree East go a block and turn left on Peachtree South and go about three blocks to the corner of Peachtree and Peachtree. This might sound fucked up to you, but if you've been going to ProgPower for six years like us, it would make perfect sense. It sounded close enough to walk, so we did. We grabbed a couple of beers for the trip.
As we started down the sidewalk, this dirty homeless kid on a bike with these faggety saddlebags damn near crashed into us. Seeing our black t-shirts, he started yelling "Ice Dirt Is Crumbling!" we were like, dude, chill the fuck out. It's too early to hit us with your hyper crystal meth bullshit. It's only 1:00; what the fuck are you saying. He repeated "Iced Earth Is Coming!" we were like dude - they ain't even on the fucking bill. They aren't playing again this year. He rode on yelling "Iced Earth Is Coming!" Crazy junkie fuckers.
We continued up the hill. This old fucking geezer older than my grandfather with long ass gray hair was coming at us. He was wearing leather pants with an American flag t-shirt. We noticed he was humming a tune. It sounded familiar. We stopped him and said hey. Then we recognized him. It was John Drenning from Iced Earth. All the sudden it hit us that we missed another chance to meet Neil. He was holding a little GI joe army man doll and he was still humming. We were like dude - what is that tune - Stormrider? Melancholy? Dracula? We couldn't place it. He said - no, it's a new song. We said it sounded like an old one. He yelled at us and told us to get the fuck off his board. We were like, this ain't the Internet, bro. He started to walk away and we noticed that his pants were assless. How fucking gay. Nice fucking metal pants dickhead, we yelled. He yelled back - thanks - they're for my fans - they are backstage pants - access all areas. What a loser.
We stopped and got our coffee and grabbed a six pack of beer to hold us over til lunch. We sat and watched the snobby bank secretaries run in and out of the mall. Bitches. We noticed that trendy Italian restaurant Hooligans over on the corner and decided to grab some grub. When we finally got seated this perky little waitress completely covered in fucking flair came up to take our orders. I said I wanted one of them jelly donut sandwiches and a bucket of beer. She was like what the fuck. I told her some internet pals from our message board talked about how awesome the jelly donut sandwich was and I wanted one. She was still fucking clueless. Fucking internet trolls - they don't have those sandwiches at Hooligans, dumbasses.
While we were waiting for our food, this crowd of about 60 nerds all wearing black t-shirts and black polo shirts came in. we raised our third glasses of beer to them and threw them the horns, and they threw them back. Somebody has to tell prog fags to not tuck in their shirts and to let their fucking hair grow out metal. They set up at 10 tables down in the pit below us and started yammering on about their Itch of Forever club. The fuck is that? Eventually we figured out from the posters and banners that they were a bunch of Sympathy X fans. They were planning on how to finally win the PMX awards for this year. We were like - hey, Sympathy X doesn't even have a disc out this year. They were like - do so - we have the fan club fourth edition final pre-mastering mix, and it kicks ass. It is their best album ever. I get tired of hearing that bullshit. First of all, they are prog fags and second of all their best album was Rising Force back in the 80's. They'd never top that. They took a vote for best guitarist of the year. I yelled out Ralph Santini from Diocide - fucker fucking shreds even if you don't like death metal. They told us to shut the fuck up because only Mike Rodeo was even nominated. Fucking fan boys.
After lunch we headed over to the venue and grabbed some more beer. Our platinum badges got us in before the rest of the fuckers. We checked out the vendors, but Nucular Blast and Central Media weren't set up yet so we said fuck it. We ain't buying a bunch of wimpy prog rock and hair metal shit from those other guys. We headed into the venue, and saw our buddy Shrek sitting in there all by himself. We felt sorry for him, so we went over to say hey. He was like these seats are fucking saved assholes. We were like what the fuck, we were just going to hang out with your sorry Frazer looking ass. Fuck you. He said that people were always trying to steal his seats. I went down the aisle in front of him and whipped out my johnsen and pissed on one the seats. I said - there that's mine. I've marked my territory. That's fucking metal.
We went back out and chatted up the fine ladies in corsets and saran wear out in the lobby and drank a few more beers. We noticed the Sentry Media guys hauling in boxes of fine goodies. We went over and bought some Sonya Artica posters. Those dudes kick ass. We saw a big fat four hundred pound gorilla walking out of the lobby and yelled BEAR! He came over and crushed our fists. We yelled wazzzzzupppp in death metal voices. Roar. That's fucking cool. We bought him some beer and ourselves some more and talked for a while. He said he was leaving to go see the show. That's cool. We stayed at the bar for a while and then finally decided to go wait in line for the Sonya Artica guys.
We got up to the front of the line and handed them our posters to sign. They were completely fucking pissed. We're Thunderclone, not Sonya Artica you dumb fucks. The fuck is the difference anyway, I thought. Primodonnas. We decided to go check out Pyramid. I figured they were like any other prog fags and would have DC Cooper on stage. Boy was I ever wrong. These dudes completely smoked. Somebody has to open up the show and these guys came to kick our asses. Then the keyboards started and Michael Boltan came out and started singing so we got the fuck out of there quick. I was like what the fuck was that shit he was singing. My buddy said it was a concept thing called Legion of the Bone Carver. I said leave it to a bunch of fucking prog dorks to write an album about Lurena Babbitt. We hung out at the bar and chatted up Marla, who is always the prime attraction at Progpower. You know after a couple of years, I'm starting to think that she's just a tease using our lust to make money. Still, the beer was fine and we were getting stoked for Savage Circle.
We went into the place to find a place to stand up front and all these rude fuckers were looking at us like you can't stand here - we are standing here for the last two hours. We were like hey fags if you were standing here for Pyramid you better go sit down because your pansy asses can't handle the metal of the next band. They were probably just waiting around for Freak Ketchup anyway. Why does Glenn even invite these prog bands with the dumbass names anyway. Nobody likes them. We quickly did our doubles of beer and then ran out to get more. When we got back up to the front, the house lights came down and the Powerfucker dude announced Savage Circle. Their show kicked ass. These guys completely owned the crowd. This was the best band to play since Blind Gordon. I know it ain't completely metal, but I actually broke down and cried while they were playing it was that fucking powerful. They played for about an hour, and were so great that we didn't even leave to get beer which is the longest we're gonna go all weekend without fucking drinking.
After the set, we ran out to take a leak and got some more beer. What the fuck is up with that bathroom dude. Why does he thank me. Is that fucker watching me or something. Creeps me the fuck out. Ran into Mike Glavin from Divisionary while waiting in line. Is his chick hot or what? I'd hit that. Me and Mike hugged like a pair of homos. Why don't those guys play one of these years. I gotta talk that Ralph fucker into sponsoring them. We hit the bar up for a couple more beers, and I think we must have started to get completely wasted because we forgot what we were doing and walked into Freak Ketchup playing. Can someone explain that shit to me. It ain't even metal. This is a perfect spot in the night to kick our asses with something extreme and they put on this glam rock shit. Sure the guy can shred, but this is a fucking metal festival not a fucking artsy fartsy festival. Next year they'll probably have Marilon or Yes or one of those crappy bands. We left and hung out with the Savage Circle guys. Those fuckers can drink like you wouldn't believe. They asked us to come back with them to the party room, but we didn't have the plutonium badges so those dweeb and LarryD fuckers got to hang with them instead of us.
We went in to see Mercy Mary expecting to get our skulls fucking crushed. These guys are about the heaviest band to ever play the festival and that's what we needed. We did not get crushed. They played nothing but that pop metal crap from the new album. I half expected to see a bunch of prog wimps in the back swaying around in their seats waving lighters. Fuck. Why the fuck can't anyone stay metal anymore. We went out to the Cemetary Media table to hang out for a while and buy some crap. We asked the dudes why the fuck Luanne doesn't come anymore. That chick is hot. I'd do her. She would double their sales, easy. They acted like a bunch of emo record store clerks. Those fuckers went corporate is what happened. Scum! Probably hoping to get snagged up by one of the majors. The metal underground is fucking dying out since all those barkcore bands started coming out. We grabbed some beers and headed back in to catch the last of the set.
After Mercy Mary, we ran back to the hotel to drop off our freebie baggies and the stuff we bought. We did a couple shots of Yagear to help us get stoked for Everfuckinggrey. We made it back to the venue in plenty of time and only missed the first couple of songs, I think. They were awesome. Absolutely crushing. For one song. Then we noticed that the bass player wasn't wearing his fucking metal skirt. The fuck is up with that? The fuckers sold out. They're not even metal anymore. They started playing all this crooner ballad piano shit about their feelings. Some dumbass in the front with a hawaiian shirt was completely into it. I'm like - it ain't even fucking metal - it's arena rock bullshit. It's a horrid mismatch of down-tuned riffing and mediocre song-writing wreathed in a miasma of def leppard-esque syrup, as someone much smarter than me once said. What the fuck is happening with metal? Where is the power? Where is the glory? Where is the majesty?
Only one decent fucking band all night. We left and went down to the bar and drank and did Karoke. I did Roxanne and Meat Hook Sodomy. I must say that I completely kicked ass. My buddies did Ring My Bell and Love in an Elevator, but with death metal vocals. That was awesome. We were so metal. We were completely fucking drunk and having a great time which is all that going to a metal festival is about. We saw our buddy Chris Lorenzo from Iam Vain leaving with a fat, ugly chick so we ran after him to rescue him. Metal brothers have to do what they can from keeping their friends from falling off the ladder. We decided to crash all the parties of the rich fuckers at the Residence Inn. We stumbled from room to room drinking anything and everything offered to us. Some things don't mix well, as the gloopy puddles in the stairwells would indicate. We were so wasted that I don't remember any of it except for this one room with a bunch of geeks listening to this strange folk rock with scratches and synth beats and doing that Lord of the Flies Irish dancing shit. We stumbled back to the hotel singing The Bard's Song as loud as we could for anyone to enjoy and drank for another two hours. Another great day of partying and metal and getting motherfucking shit-faced.
Fuck yeah!
The next morning we got up pretty early to start our metal day. First thing, we figured out was that we fucked up. We forgot to buy new t-shirts last night. We'll just have to make do with what we got. Luckily I brought three extra Manowar shirts. You can never have too many. We checked the coolers and noticed that we were getting low on beer. We were down to our last 3 cases. Have to make another beer run tonight if we can find something open in this fag town after six.
Down at the front check-in booth, we asked the dude where we could get some coffee. He said that there was Starbucks down on Peachtree. We told him we didn't want a bunch of queer yuppy coffee - we wanted real coffee. Like McDonalds or something. He said there was a Wild Bean Cafe at the BP station down from Starbucks. Sounded good to us. We asked how to get there. He said to drive down on Peachtree about 8 blocks and turn left on Peachtree East go a block and turn left on Peachtree South and go about three blocks to the corner of Peachtree and Peachtree. This might sound fucked up to you, but if you've been going to ProgPower for six years like us, it would make perfect sense. It sounded close enough to walk, so we did. We grabbed a couple of beers for the trip.
As we started down the sidewalk, this dirty homeless kid on a bike with these faggety saddlebags damn near crashed into us. Seeing our black t-shirts, he started yelling "Ice Dirt Is Crumbling!" we were like, dude, chill the fuck out. It's too early to hit us with your hyper crystal meth bullshit. It's only 1:00; what the fuck are you saying. He repeated "Iced Earth Is Coming!" we were like dude - they ain't even on the fucking bill. They aren't playing again this year. He rode on yelling "Iced Earth Is Coming!" Crazy junkie fuckers.
We continued up the hill. This old fucking geezer older than my grandfather with long ass gray hair was coming at us. He was wearing leather pants with an American flag t-shirt. We noticed he was humming a tune. It sounded familiar. We stopped him and said hey. Then we recognized him. It was John Drenning from Iced Earth. All the sudden it hit us that we missed another chance to meet Neil. He was holding a little GI joe army man doll and he was still humming. We were like dude - what is that tune - Stormrider? Melancholy? Dracula? We couldn't place it. He said - no, it's a new song. We said it sounded like an old one. He yelled at us and told us to get the fuck off his board. We were like, this ain't the Internet, bro. He started to walk away and we noticed that his pants were assless. How fucking gay. Nice fucking metal pants dickhead, we yelled. He yelled back - thanks - they're for my fans - they are backstage pants - access all areas. What a loser.
We stopped and got our coffee and grabbed a six pack of beer to hold us over til lunch. We sat and watched the snobby bank secretaries run in and out of the mall. Bitches. We noticed that trendy Italian restaurant Hooligans over on the corner and decided to grab some grub. When we finally got seated this perky little waitress completely covered in fucking flair came up to take our orders. I said I wanted one of them jelly donut sandwiches and a bucket of beer. She was like what the fuck. I told her some internet pals from our message board talked about how awesome the jelly donut sandwich was and I wanted one. She was still fucking clueless. Fucking internet trolls - they don't have those sandwiches at Hooligans, dumbasses.
While we were waiting for our food, this crowd of about 60 nerds all wearing black t-shirts and black polo shirts came in. we raised our third glasses of beer to them and threw them the horns, and they threw them back. Somebody has to tell prog fags to not tuck in their shirts and to let their fucking hair grow out metal. They set up at 10 tables down in the pit below us and started yammering on about their Itch of Forever club. The fuck is that? Eventually we figured out from the posters and banners that they were a bunch of Sympathy X fans. They were planning on how to finally win the PMX awards for this year. We were like - hey, Sympathy X doesn't even have a disc out this year. They were like - do so - we have the fan club fourth edition final pre-mastering mix, and it kicks ass. It is their best album ever. I get tired of hearing that bullshit. First of all, they are prog fags and second of all their best album was Rising Force back in the 80's. They'd never top that. They took a vote for best guitarist of the year. I yelled out Ralph Santini from Diocide - fucker fucking shreds even if you don't like death metal. They told us to shut the fuck up because only Mike Rodeo was even nominated. Fucking fan boys.
After lunch we headed over to the venue and grabbed some more beer. Our platinum badges got us in before the rest of the fuckers. We checked out the vendors, but Nucular Blast and Central Media weren't set up yet so we said fuck it. We ain't buying a bunch of wimpy prog rock and hair metal shit from those other guys. We headed into the venue, and saw our buddy Shrek sitting in there all by himself. We felt sorry for him, so we went over to say hey. He was like these seats are fucking saved assholes. We were like what the fuck, we were just going to hang out with your sorry Frazer looking ass. Fuck you. He said that people were always trying to steal his seats. I went down the aisle in front of him and whipped out my johnsen and pissed on one the seats. I said - there that's mine. I've marked my territory. That's fucking metal.
We went back out and chatted up the fine ladies in corsets and saran wear out in the lobby and drank a few more beers. We noticed the Sentry Media guys hauling in boxes of fine goodies. We went over and bought some Sonya Artica posters. Those dudes kick ass. We saw a big fat four hundred pound gorilla walking out of the lobby and yelled BEAR! He came over and crushed our fists. We yelled wazzzzzupppp in death metal voices. Roar. That's fucking cool. We bought him some beer and ourselves some more and talked for a while. He said he was leaving to go see the show. That's cool. We stayed at the bar for a while and then finally decided to go wait in line for the Sonya Artica guys.
We got up to the front of the line and handed them our posters to sign. They were completely fucking pissed. We're Thunderclone, not Sonya Artica you dumb fucks. The fuck is the difference anyway, I thought. Primodonnas. We decided to go check out Pyramid. I figured they were like any other prog fags and would have DC Cooper on stage. Boy was I ever wrong. These dudes completely smoked. Somebody has to open up the show and these guys came to kick our asses. Then the keyboards started and Michael Boltan came out and started singing so we got the fuck out of there quick. I was like what the fuck was that shit he was singing. My buddy said it was a concept thing called Legion of the Bone Carver. I said leave it to a bunch of fucking prog dorks to write an album about Lurena Babbitt. We hung out at the bar and chatted up Marla, who is always the prime attraction at Progpower. You know after a couple of years, I'm starting to think that she's just a tease using our lust to make money. Still, the beer was fine and we were getting stoked for Savage Circle.
We went into the place to find a place to stand up front and all these rude fuckers were looking at us like you can't stand here - we are standing here for the last two hours. We were like hey fags if you were standing here for Pyramid you better go sit down because your pansy asses can't handle the metal of the next band. They were probably just waiting around for Freak Ketchup anyway. Why does Glenn even invite these prog bands with the dumbass names anyway. Nobody likes them. We quickly did our doubles of beer and then ran out to get more. When we got back up to the front, the house lights came down and the Powerfucker dude announced Savage Circle. Their show kicked ass. These guys completely owned the crowd. This was the best band to play since Blind Gordon. I know it ain't completely metal, but I actually broke down and cried while they were playing it was that fucking powerful. They played for about an hour, and were so great that we didn't even leave to get beer which is the longest we're gonna go all weekend without fucking drinking.
After the set, we ran out to take a leak and got some more beer. What the fuck is up with that bathroom dude. Why does he thank me. Is that fucker watching me or something. Creeps me the fuck out. Ran into Mike Glavin from Divisionary while waiting in line. Is his chick hot or what? I'd hit that. Me and Mike hugged like a pair of homos. Why don't those guys play one of these years. I gotta talk that Ralph fucker into sponsoring them. We hit the bar up for a couple more beers, and I think we must have started to get completely wasted because we forgot what we were doing and walked into Freak Ketchup playing. Can someone explain that shit to me. It ain't even metal. This is a perfect spot in the night to kick our asses with something extreme and they put on this glam rock shit. Sure the guy can shred, but this is a fucking metal festival not a fucking artsy fartsy festival. Next year they'll probably have Marilon or Yes or one of those crappy bands. We left and hung out with the Savage Circle guys. Those fuckers can drink like you wouldn't believe. They asked us to come back with them to the party room, but we didn't have the plutonium badges so those dweeb and LarryD fuckers got to hang with them instead of us.
We went in to see Mercy Mary expecting to get our skulls fucking crushed. These guys are about the heaviest band to ever play the festival and that's what we needed. We did not get crushed. They played nothing but that pop metal crap from the new album. I half expected to see a bunch of prog wimps in the back swaying around in their seats waving lighters. Fuck. Why the fuck can't anyone stay metal anymore. We went out to the Cemetary Media table to hang out for a while and buy some crap. We asked the dudes why the fuck Luanne doesn't come anymore. That chick is hot. I'd do her. She would double their sales, easy. They acted like a bunch of emo record store clerks. Those fuckers went corporate is what happened. Scum! Probably hoping to get snagged up by one of the majors. The metal underground is fucking dying out since all those barkcore bands started coming out. We grabbed some beers and headed back in to catch the last of the set.
After Mercy Mary, we ran back to the hotel to drop off our freebie baggies and the stuff we bought. We did a couple shots of Yagear to help us get stoked for Everfuckinggrey. We made it back to the venue in plenty of time and only missed the first couple of songs, I think. They were awesome. Absolutely crushing. For one song. Then we noticed that the bass player wasn't wearing his fucking metal skirt. The fuck is up with that? The fuckers sold out. They're not even metal anymore. They started playing all this crooner ballad piano shit about their feelings. Some dumbass in the front with a hawaiian shirt was completely into it. I'm like - it ain't even fucking metal - it's arena rock bullshit. It's a horrid mismatch of down-tuned riffing and mediocre song-writing wreathed in a miasma of def leppard-esque syrup, as someone much smarter than me once said. What the fuck is happening with metal? Where is the power? Where is the glory? Where is the majesty?
Only one decent fucking band all night. We left and went down to the bar and drank and did Karoke. I did Roxanne and Meat Hook Sodomy. I must say that I completely kicked ass. My buddies did Ring My Bell and Love in an Elevator, but with death metal vocals. That was awesome. We were so metal. We were completely fucking drunk and having a great time which is all that going to a metal festival is about. We saw our buddy Chris Lorenzo from Iam Vain leaving with a fat, ugly chick so we ran after him to rescue him. Metal brothers have to do what they can from keeping their friends from falling off the ladder. We decided to crash all the parties of the rich fuckers at the Residence Inn. We stumbled from room to room drinking anything and everything offered to us. Some things don't mix well, as the gloopy puddles in the stairwells would indicate. We were so wasted that I don't remember any of it except for this one room with a bunch of geeks listening to this strange folk rock with scratches and synth beats and doing that Lord of the Flies Irish dancing shit. We stumbled back to the hotel singing The Bard's Song as loud as we could for anyone to enjoy and drank for another two hours. Another great day of partying and metal and getting motherfucking shit-faced.
Fuck yeah!
BACKSTAGE PANTS - ACCESS ALL AREAS!!! F*cking priceless!
