#BOSTON TEA PARTY MOTHERFUCKER

[longeyelashedtragedy]

Whole place is booing m*son m*unt… Y/N would weep

[broadway-dave]

we are tinfoil hats ON tonight people

i repeat tinfoil hats the fuck on

were dropping sick conspiracies out here like you wouldnt believe man

when are we doing a boston tea party

except its like a can town cake party

or well it would also be a tea party dont they serve cake at those?

fuck if i know

anyway enjoy

lyrics under the cut

Strange time we're living in, panic and hysteria Poor man learn the rich man don't care for ya Narcissist mindsets spread like malaria

(DS: OBAMA)

Sit back and watch the show, America!

Earth C split through fickle shit A government of hypocrites These Crocker-picked politicians sit In parliament, not adequate

Needlessly bleeding resources all dry Turn a blind eye if it means a pay rise "Oh what a shame it would be I would die" If Crockercorp factories burned in a fire

Only joking, only messing, don't be stressing I'm a peaceful adolescent, there's no need to be unpleasant Write my thesis in a rhyme scheme To analyse the brain While my fingers on the trigger of a money game

Oh rain, rain, rain, rain A storm, it comes our way And those who rise through distorted lies Poisoning the veins But we like to point the blame, blame, blame, blame It's easier to blame But point the mirror at ourselves We're all part of this old money game

Money is a game and the ladder we climb Turns a saint into a sinner with his finger in crime I'll break it down for you motherfuckers line by line This is business economics in a nursery rhyme

She sells seashells on a seashore But the value of these shells will fall Due to the laws of supply and demand No one wants to buy shells 'cause there's loads on the sand

Step one, you must create a sense of scarcity Shells will sell much better if the people think they're rare, you see Bear with me, take as many shells as you can find and hide 'em On an island stockpile 'em high until they're rarer than a diamond

Step two, you gotta make the people think that they want 'em Really want 'em, really fuckin' want 'em, hit 'em like Bronson Influencers, product placement, featured prime time entertainment If you haven't got a shell then you're just a fucking wasteman

Three, it's monopoly, invest inside some property Start a corporation, make a logo, do it properly "Shells must sell", that will be your new philosophy Swallow all your morals, they're a poor man's quality

Four, OBEY, SUBMIT, CONSUME Send drones, cut wombs, resist, big boom

Five, why just shells? Why limit your self? She sells seashells, sell oil as well!

Six, guns, sell stocks, sell diamonds Sell rocks, sell water to a fish, sell the time to a clock

Seven, press on the gas, take your foot off the brakes Run to be the president of the United States

Eight, big smile mate, big wave that's great Now the truth is overrated, tell lies out the gate

Nine, polarize the people, controversy is the game It don't matter if they hate you if they all say your name

Ten, the world is yours Step out on a stage to a round of applause You're a liar, a cheat, a devil, a whore And you sell seashells on the seashore

Rain, rain, rain, rain A storm, it comes our way And those who rise through distorted lies Poisoning the veins But we like to point the blame, blame, blame, blame It's easier to blame But point the mirror at ourselves We're all part of this old money game

[its-sweetpotato]

Meanwhile at the Boston Tea Party...

“HERE’S THE MOTHERFUCKING...TEA”

[moonmeg]

(Since it's John Adams birthday- Happy Birthday to Abigail Adams' gargoyle man) I can sort of imagine Adams getting a present for 'Anon' and opening it and all it says in side is 'YOU FAT MOTHERFUCKER' (on TOTALLY unrelated note Hamilton is found with an Abigail Adams sized slap mark on his face and is unwilling to explain what happened.)

What a coincidence that I had my history exam on American Revolution today haha

Or like not the Independence war in itself but rather the Sugar Act, Stamp Act, Boston Massacre and Boston Tea Party you know all that jazz from 1763-1775 haha

[iwantitiwriteit]

Slow Burn: Act I - Part 3

The Secret Session

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous!Reader

Summary: There’s a secret audience member at your acoustic show.

Warnings: Profanity

Notes: Before you dive in, get in the zone with the moodboard + music specially curated to go with this part! Full of acoustic jams by a couple of my favorite artists. Read the previous part here.

The calm before the storm. That’s what the time before a performance is like for you. You politely demand minimal talking of anyone in the room, unable to help getting lost in thought before a show, often reflecting on the last couple years. Today is no different.

Honey, your song is on the radio!

Oh ‘cos you’re ‘famous’ now, you think you’re hot shit?

It’s not like you don’t have the money.

5 weeks at number 1 and counting!

I can’t believe how naive you’re being.

I can’t believe how jealous you’re being.

And the award goes to…

You won!

I thought you’d be happy for me.

I can’t do this anymore...

“So… that hangover of yours must be serious.” 

You bring your eyesight from its fixed spot on the floor in front of you to look at Jimi. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear me say ‘pancakes’.”

You whip your head around like a madwoman. “Pancakes?! Where?”

“Down girl. There are none. You fiend.”

“Then why mention it? Getting my hopes up like that…”

“‘Cos they’d go reeeealllly good with this obviously expensive, gourmet coffee someone named ‘CE’ sent you.”

“What?” You rush over to Jimi’s side and take the note from her hand.

“Mmhmm... cryptic ass note too. But I’m gonna guess not to you.” 

Roses are red, coffee is brown. Boston’s known for tea parties, and I for putting my foot in my mouth. Forgive me? -CE 

‘Brown’ and ‘mouth’? What a way with words, this guy. He really went through the trouble, though…

“Wanna tell me what you got up to last night? As your manager, I should know.” Jimi tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at you. 

You cringed at the thought of recounting last night’s events. “Not really.” Throwing the note over your shoulder, you began inspecting the extravagant bouquet. “And I’m not hungover by the way. Just feeling— ugh, you know how I get before shows.”

“Nuh uh, sis. Now I’m pulling best friend rank. Hungover or not, you crept ya ass back into the hotel room close to 3 am KNOWING you had a show the next day, get sent coffee and flowers with cheesy apology notes by obviously rich randos, and on TOP OF IT ALL, are about to be away from me for what? 3 months?”

“4 months,” you reluctantly corrected her.

“4 MONTHS! And you REALLY THINK you’re not about to tell me what the hell happened last night? What do you think this is— Pretty Little Liars? Bitch, spill.” Jimi’s right…  manager AND best friend. She deserves the tea… Why’d I give her this much power?

“Well…” Jimi takes a seat as you pace around, beginning to tell her about meeting Chris the night before.

“Chris Evans, Chris Evans? Like Chris motherfucking Evans?”

“Girl, yes!” you confirm.

You tell her about your stupid, potentially offensive joke.

“Ooooff. I’m not surprised, though, that’s on brand for you.”

“Ugh, I know— hey!”

You tell her how Anthony and Scott were obviously trying to set you up, and how Anthony was not helping the awkwardness you already established.

“Why, though??”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

You tell her how things eventually turned around, you and Chris caught a little vibe, and that you were so sure he was flirting with you. How genuine he seemed, and how dreamy his eyes were, and—

“Wait a min—”

“Let me finish!”

Finally, you told her how you’d accidentally read Anthony’s text chain with Chris, and saw what Chris really thought of you.

“Well, damn.”

“I’m saying!” You breathe out exasperatedly as you sit down in front Jimi, leaning your head on her knee.“It's not that I thought we’d ride off into the sunset together or anything, but I just thought I’d read him as genuine. I don’t know… with all that’s happened the last few months, my judgment could really use a win.”

“Oh honey, I know. But what did I tell you? You—”

“We’re ready for you!” Saved by the stage manager.

“Looks like your stern talking to is gonna have to wait until after the meet and greet.”

“Immediately after. Have fun out there hun. Snatch some wigs!”

——————————————————————————

You didn’t see it, but last night Chris saw you enter the party. His breath hitched at the sight of you, dressed in all white, hair like a kinky-curly halo around your head. An actual angel. Somewhat dressed down from the other ladies in the party, but clearly confident and comfortable in your own skin, made you stand out to him. His mesmerization was interrupted by voices calling out in the distance. It was a couple of the younger actor boys, and he watched you chat with them.

Chris looked away when his phone dinged indicating he received a text. It was from Mackie, asking if he was ok. Can I catch a break? He exchanged texts, but wanted to return his gaze so badly to the sneakered beauty that caught his eye. When he looked up, you were gone, and he panicked a little. He finally found you outside on the rooftop patio, dancing provocatively… with Scott?

Chris made his way over to you, Scott, and Mackie. He admired the way you talked expressively about who-knows-what, but your animated faces amused him. When he got to you all, introductions were made; you’re an actress, soon making your film debut alongside his brother and friend. He tries to make small talk with you, but somehow finds himself being joked on for his own film debut, and he’s slightly returned to his sullen mood. I’m not in the mood for this. It’s always too good to be true, huh?

Alone with you at the bar, though, something happens, you change his mind— or rather confirm and further his initial intrigue. The two of you talk, laugh, and dance with each other for the better part of the evening, often catching yourselves gazing smittenly at the beautiful stranger opposite of you. He thinks that you're funny, smart, and confidently awkward. Chris appreciates your realness and was never more glad he came out despite his previously funky mood.

Unfourtunately, there was another change, a sour one. You’d seen Chris’ blind judgments of you. FuuuuUUUUUUcccckkk. He’d sent those texts before he’d even met you, ignorant to you being the musician that his brother and friend were trying to set him up with— they’d done a good job of making sure of that after he expressed his disinterest. But you didn’t know that, and believed that what he texted was truly what he thought of you after enjoying each other’s company all night.

Chris was embarrassed to say the least. He went to the bathroom to hide his shame. I finally, FINALLY hit it off with someone, and possibly blew it because I just HAD to choose this ONE time to be colorful in my word choice. I gotta make this right.

 As quickly as he could, he’d gotten together a demonstration of remorse: a beautiful bouquet of roses and some gourmet coffee, a call back to the quips you shared last night, sent to your green room. He wasn’t sure what to say on the note, but remembering how much of a jokester you are, he went the cheesy, comical route, and prayed it went over well. Chris could’ve left it at that, but no, my curiosity had to get the best of me. 

Just like you hadn’t seen him watching you last night, you hadn’t seen him watching you today. Today, however, he’s not the only one watching you. This isn’t qualified as stalking, is it? God, I hope not. Appropriately anxious and tucked in the furthest corner of the small, but packed venue, clad in a baseball cap, hoodie, and sunglasses, Chris heavily reconsidered his spur of the moment decision of coming to see your acoustic performance. Any chance of leaving was now gone as the lights dimmed and the presenter came on stage.

“In the last 2 years following the release of her debut album, today’s artist has taken music by storm! She’s had a #1 song in the country for 10 consecutive weeks— graced the covers of Rolling Stone and Vogue— top-billed major music festivals like Lollapalooza and Coachella. She’s even cleaned up at the Grammys this year and then gave the most talked about performance.”  Damn… do I really live under a rock? “iHeartRadio, give a warm welcome to…” 

Applause erupted as you joined your band on stage, taking your spot behind the microphone. You greeted the crowd with a shy smile and introduced the first song. “This… is ‘Stroke’.” The crowd erupts again around Chris, all in on what’s in store, leaving him the only one in the room unsure of what to expect.

Chris is mesmerized by your voice and amused by your quirky dance moves. But he feels conflicted, knowing that similar moves were done with him last night on the dance floor. When you danced together, it had felt like the two of you were in your own little world, but seeing you onstage sharing some of that with an entire audience made him feel a little… insignificant.

Your lyrics are smart, raw and moving and the instrumentation is captivating even in its stripped back state. Chris doesn’t think he’s ever heard music like yours before. He’s surprised by the subtly aggressive and sexual nature of it, considering how awkward and goofy and cute you were with him. However, he loves watching your outright confidence, your assertiveness, in action on stage. Wow, she’s fucking amazing!

“... thank y’all! Um… this next one is a cover of a song I’m sure you know and love.” The guitarist starts the iconic riff of Aaliyah’s ‘Are You That Somebody?’. Chris is taken back to hearing this song at many parties in his younger years where he mindlessly *and drunkenly* danced to the upbeat production. But hearing you sing it today, a little slower and a lot more vulnerable, the lyrics hit him differently.

“Oh boy, see I’m trusting you with my heart, my soul

I probably shouldn’t let you but if I

If I let you know

You can’t tell nobody, I’m talkin’ ‘bout nobody

I hope you’re responsible

Boy I gotta watch my back, 'Cause I’m not just anybody”

He’s reminded of your comments last night.

“Don’t you ever feel like you can’t tell people’s intentions? Like, you can’t tell if someone wants to be around you for you or… for what they think they’ll get in return. It’s just easier to stay in your own, comfortable bubble sometimes. I don’t know…”

She probably thinks I was trying to take advantage of her. God, I’m so stupid sometimes!

At the end of the set, there’s a round of deserving applause and cheers for you, and you beam at the crowd, thanking them. Chris can’t help but feel strangely proud of you; he barely knows you, but can tell you love what you do and give your all to it. He admires that.

When the lights come up and the presenter joins you on stage, Chris takes that opportunity to slip out early so as not to be caught in the rush of everyone leaving, risking him getting recognized. He gets his phone out to let his driver know he’s coming down and to meet him around the corner, hoping this will keep them from tipping off paparazzi. He then opens his music app to download all your music. It’s official: I’m a fan.

——————————————————————————

“Alright everybody, if you have tickets for the meet and greet… “ the presenter gives announcements as you leave the stage. Being the attentive performer you are, you noticed a tall, enigmatic audience member leave early. Normally you would’ve gently called them out, but something stopped you. A familiarity of the figure, the stature, the walk.

Your breath catches in your throat at the thought of who it could be. You start towards the green room to prepare for the meet and greet, although your swirling thoughts cause you to make little to no strides in that direction. What if it is Chris? Why would he come today? Was he really sorry? Or was he just bored and looking for a good laugh?

Adrenaline rushes you and you head in the direction of where the figure had gone. You scan the room and spot them, stomp up behind them, ready to have some words.

“Hey! HEY!” You reach and yank their hoodie off, “WHAT’D YOU THINK OF THE show…” your voice trails off at the sight of a toupee hanging in the pulled down hood, and the figure turns around. Shit. 

“¡¿Qué mierda estás haciendo?!” The Spanish speaking stranger is loud, bald, and clearly pissed.

“Lo siento,” you offer with a sheepish smile and shrug, then turn on your heels and scurry off, slightly embarrassed by the scene you’d caused.

“What the hell was that?” Jimi asked with wide eyes. “Not what I meant when I said ‘snatch some wigs’!” 

“I thought that was Chris…”

“You thought an extremely famous, A-list actor, who barely flirted with you last night, and clearly doesn’t think very highly of you, risked pestering paps and mobbing fans to go out of his way to come to your set today?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“And if it was? What were you gonna do?”

“I… didn’t think that far.”

“You didn’t think at all. Listen, I get that you’re hurt—“

“I’m not hurt! Ok… That’s not me. I don’t get hurt.”

Jimi sighs, softening her eyes and speaks at you with tough love and concern. “Whatever it is you’re feeling, you can’t let him or any other industry guy get in your head like this. Your career’s finally taking off like you wanted, and your personal life is less in shambles than it was a while ago. If you want everything to continue going in the right direction, you gotta get focused! You’ve got a movie role to slay! And many more amazing opportunities waiting for you after that because you made it all happen. I want you to remember that this next chapter is about focusing on what’s right for you, professionally and personally. Do NOT bring in the bullshit from the last chapter.”

It’s your turn to sigh. “But, I—“

“Aht-aht! No excuses. Are we clear?” You simply nod because there’s not much you can say. All you can do is mentally make a promise to yourself to not let any guy get you besides yourself, that you will be willing and ready for great things to happen to you. Jimi’s right… again! Dammit, I hate when she’s right.

Part 4

[tribalcheif]

GET TO KNOW MAX “FUCKING” PERRY.

He’s toxic. His smile will poison you. His boyish charm dangerous. The glint in his eyes as he challenges you to do something devious is lethal.

1. Full Name? Maximilian Asmodeus ( yes what the fuck were Mr. and Mrs. Perry thinking ) Perry.

2. Preferred Names or Nicknames? Max. He absolutely refuses anyone to use his full name. His mother called him Maxi.

3. What does their name mean? Does it have any significance in their family? Do they like their name? Maximilian means “the greatest”, which goes well with his personality. It doesn’t have much significance other than the fact that his parents liked it. His middle name too, ‘till this day people are convinced no one knew it was the name of a literal Prince of Hell.

4. Age and Date of Birth? 18. October 21, 2001. He’s a Libra.

5. Gender and Pronouns? Cisgender Male. He/him.

6. Hometown? Boston, Massachusetts.

7. Does your character fit into any well known archetypes or tropes? A few actually. He fits into The Ruler archetype, and the Ambition Is Evil, The Leader, Really Gets Around, Daddy Issues, just like major antagonist vibes, an evil motherfucker from hell who happens to lead the future frat boys of America.

8. How long have they been at Broadripple? He has been at Broadripple for exactly four years.

9. What led them to apply to Broadripple? Was it a decision made by them or by their parents/guardians or somewhere in between? Both his parents are Massachusetts natives, and attended Broadripple, it was a birthright, his parents decided that’s where he’d be attending as soon as they found out his mother was pregnant.

10. Whether they’ve been at Broadripple four days or four years, do they enjoy it? Do they like Broadripple? He has a love/hate relationship with the academy.  Its became his playground throughout his teenage years, and no doubt had a big impact on him, his stomping grounds if you will. He’s found numerous ways to make his time their enjoyable all his own, and with the Broadripple Boys Club. However, for a schemer like him all the rules and regulations that come with such a prestigious school put an abundance of roadblocks in the way of his ideas of fun.

11. What house are they in? Do they care very much about their house? Fenwick! Again, the house of both his parents, again, he does care, but he doesn’t, all his antics, schemes, and overall demeanor does the house zero justice, however, he loves the sense of camaraderie, even if he and others are aware he is definitely the bad apple of the bunch.

12. Who do they share a dorm with, or are they on their own for the moment? What are they like to live with? Are they clean or messy? Early risers or night owls? TBD. Max is an absolute pain to live with, he’s bossy, complains a lot, he never quite got used to sharing a smaller space, let alone not having his own room, and he hates daylight, blackout curtains are a must in the room, he constantly complains about how he doesn’t have enough space for his clothes and shoes (although he has way too many in his possession) he’s still found a way to be surprisingly well organized. A total night-owl, he gets about three or four hours of sleep a night, and absolutely dreads mornings, especially waking up.

13. How is your character’s dorm decorated? Is it bare or bursting at the seems with personality? Any particular sentimental items from home? Bursting with personality, loads of it. A few photos of him and his mom, family photos, with devil horns, and a mustache playfully drawn on his fathers face. A custom made “Saturdays Are for the (Broadripple) Boys” flag on the side of his bed he was gifted, a few artificial plants, and all black sleek, modern decor.

14. What is their favourite subject at school? Do they even have a favourite? Why? He absolutely hates school, but he will never give anyone any reason to doubt his (limited) book smarts, creative writing is his favorite. He loves being given prompts and thinking outside the box when responding to them, or even making short stories all his own. But that’s lame and for pussies, creativity? Don’t know her, just put my A in the gradebook and throw the paper away, shred it, and then burn the shredder.

15. Are they involved in any clubs? Which ones? Only the agriculture club. His mother was an environmental politician, and a part-time florist with a natural green thumb, that of which she passed down to him.  So, “why the fuck not.” He obviously gets a lot of shit from the bros about it but he always hits them with this, or a total punch in the face ( as brothers. )

16. How does your character feel about Broadripple’s Unofficial Clubs? Do they know about them? Are they a part of any of them? As opposed to the Boys club, obvy, he thinks the others are complete jokes. The Chastity Club (God Squad, Virgins R’ Us), and Broadripple Unsolved (Scooby Gang, The Goonies, Nancy Drew Crew) are the butt of many of his jokes,  Chastity more so the other, because just, why?

17. Does your character participate in any sports? If so, what made them join the team? Swimming. He liked the uniform, it looked fun, so he went for it. Not to mention his father made him do something, he’s done it since freshman year and surprisingly grew fond of it.

18. What afternoon activities does your character do? Do they just do the one mandatory one or are they involved in multiple? Why? Just the mandatory one, volunteering at the animal shelter, simply because he’s an animal guy. He actually got his kitten from the animal shelter his junior year.

19. Do they miss their home when they’re at Broadripple? Do they often go home for the weekends or do they only go home during holiday breaks? Constantly. But only for Jingles ( the kitten we spoke about above ), and his room, aka his evil lair, and his one true escape. A big empty house with just his father isn’t his cup of tea, it hasn’t really even felt like a home anyway since his mother died. He goes home every other weekend, unless there’s a party going on that he’s throwing, or a field trip.

20. Did your character know Izzy De Santis or Maggie Monroe? He did, granted not very well, he’d had classes with both, and minimal interaction with the two.

21. Has your character heard of Edith Lynch? Do they know the story? Yes. Both his parents were attending when the incident happened and he constantly got told the story, no lie, it creeps him out to the max ( ba dum tisss) , and he immediately wants to change the subject when it comes up.

22. How does your character feel about Nighmore? Have they noticed the recently closed shops yet? Hates it. A strong word, but he steers clear usually, he doesn’t like what he doesn’t understand and refuses to go into town unless he absolutely needs to, so he definitely hasn’t noticed the shops.

23. Have you made any aesthetic Pinterest boards/WeHeartIt collections for this character? Or playlists? Anything you would like to share! Yes! Right HERE please feel free to follow! ( fun fact: his name was originally maximilianus but that changed, quick lol )

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

The Velvet Underground - The Boston Tea Party, Boston, Massachusetts, March 13 & March 15, 1969

50 years ago this week! The VU was back at the BTP for a three-night stand. Two nights were recorded. Both fantastic. I’ve definitely shared ‘em in the past, but they are worth revisiting, of course. And I’ve never shared this photo before, have I? Who was Pat and why was someone writing his or her name in the sky on a spring day in Boston? I don’t know. Anyway, the March 13 gig is a doozy, with the Velvets playing a bunch of their just-released third LP (the superfans in the audience seem to be very familiar with these songs already), plus some new-ish works (a rare “Ferryboat Bill” and a superbly freaky “I Can’t Stand It”). And of course, the “Sister Ray/Murder Mystery” that closes the show is a motherfucker -- there’s a freeform section in the middle that never fails to blow my mind. The March 15 recording is the famed “Guitar Amp Tape,” one of the wildest recorded VU documents (here’s what I wrote about it last year). Whip it on me Jim! 

[jstlikemagic]

alright let’s move like the boston tea party and spill this motherfucking tea tonight!!

[ryanhamiltonwalsh]

“To survive in Amerika as a total human being is revolutionary”

For a band that sang about scoring drugs and sadomasochism, Velvet Underground shows in Boston were remarkably peaceful affairs unless you count the damage being done to the audience's ears. Peaceful was how you could broadly describe every engagement they had in Boston save for one night in December of 1968 when they were paired with a touring band from Detroit named MC5. As with VU's first show at The Boston Tea Party in May of 1967, in December of 1968 the band arrived with something to prove—this time, the fact that they were still compelling without founding member John Cale on stage with them. Doug Yule had been peforming with VU for a little under three months when they arrived back in the city where they found him. Steve Nelson, no longer a Tea Party employee but still a huge fan of the Velvets, curiously awaited to hear what the band sounded like without Cale. “I thought it was really interesting,” Nelson said, “that the first song they performed was 'Heroin,' which of course John Cale's electric viola was such a critical piece of, and yet they opened with it. They were sort of like saying, 'We're still the Velvet Underground, take this, go fuck yourself.' It was great. Crowd still loved it. Doug Yule brought a different thing to it than John Cale did, but I think he brought something very important, in terms of more musicality.”

The MC5 had something to prove as well, namely that their political activist persona was not just a put-on or a hook for journalists. “We had various partnerships around the country with other radical groups,” MC5's guitarist Wayne Kramer explained to me over the phone. “In the Boston area, there was a group variously called the International Werewolf Conspiracy or the Up Against the Wall Motherfuckers. They were rough and tough guys. They got involved in an altercation with some service men. Some people were hurt, and there was a trial pending. They asked us if we would help them lay some money for their attorneys. This was a kind of thing we did as a matter of course.”

An “altercation” is a mild way to put it. In truth, Ben Morea of the Up Against The Wall Motherfuckers had been charged with attempted murder. On July 24th, 1968, The Boston Globe reported, “Boston city officials have alerted police to the presence on Boston Common of a rabble-rousing group who, they say, have come here from New York city to use the tense conditions between police and the hippie community as an opportunity to create further disturbances.” The Motherfuckers from New York had encouraged the Boston Common hippies to ignore the city's new midnight park curfew, and on Tuesday July 23rd at 3AM, when two recovering soldiers from Vietnam wandered by the group, all hell broke loose. Edward McGilly and Alfred Crowley, an airman and a marine respectively, were both stabbed in front of Arlington Church. Ben Morea was charged and held for the stabbings.

In 2006, Ben Morea recalled the events differently. As he told interviewer lain McIntyre in 2006, “While I was in New York we heard that young freaks, we never called ourselves hippies, were being harassed by this group of vigilantes in Boston. It was pretty bad and a few kids had been hospitalised so I suggested to some Family members that we should go there and look into it. We went up and stayed with the street kids and freaks and sure enough they were attacked while we were there. The attackers were repelled and I was charged by the police.” It did not help Morea that an average handbill for his group might contain the harrowing image of a skeleton with accompanying text such as:

“To survive in Amerika as a total human being is revolutionary...The INTERNATIONAL WEREWOLF CONSPIRACY is the Hip Revolutionary Community in Action. Insanely hungry for the chance to discover how to live, and rabid for the blood and guts of the honkies and the pigs...WEREWOLVES OF THE WORLD JOIN THE FEAST”

“I was in jail for about two weeks before I raised ball,” Morea recalled, “I didn't get a lot of support for my case as the political community couldn't have cared less about the hippies.” But MC5 cared. Morea reached out to the band via Wayne Kramer. “They also asked us if they could make this appeal after we played in Boston, and we said of course,” Kramer said. “These are the kinds of things we did often, all over the world.”

“I seem to remember we shared a dressing room with The Velvet Underground and they all kind of stayed to themselves in the corner,” Kramer recalled. “We were loud and boisterous young men sowing our oats, and if you weren’t with us, it was easy for you to figure out you should stay out of the kitchen.” MC5 lit up the stage with their intense theatrics, as they had done the previous two nights, to great effect on Saturday December 14th, 1968. Kramer already knew the stage was made of concrete by night #3, but he couldn't resist employing his signature stage move of leaping off his amplifier and landing on his knees. “My knees puffed up like cantaloupes,” Kramer said. “That was probably one of the last times I did that. In the heat of the show, you don’t feel it. But when I got off and went to change pants and looked at my knees I said, 'Holy shit, Wayne stop this!'”

“We played really hard and we really wanted to do well. Then Ben [Morea] and a couple of his guys got up and they went in to a militant criticism of the police, the political structure, and the club itself. They tied it all together,” Kramer told me punctuated by a burst of laughter. Audience member Rob Norris recalled that the Motherfuckers' speech culminated with a call to “tear down the hall because it was not large enough to hold their energies.” Morea apparently specifically called out club manager Don Law as part of the problem. Backstage, Charlie Daniels, aka The Master Blaster, MC of the evening stood next to Law who was contemplating cutting the power to the stage. “I said, 'No, let em talk and when they're done, I'll say a few words,'” Daniels recalled. When the militant group exited the stage, running through the audience to exit the venue, Master Blaster walked out in front of a very confused audience and said, “You know, this is the only place like this here in Boston where people can come and see this type of music. The MC5 are getting paid to play here. If bands played for free we wouldn't have to charge. We could riot today but then we'll have no place to come to next week.”

Doug Yule recalled, “It was really unsettling because we were standing on the edge of a riot waiting to see if it was going to happen.” If anyone was still considering heeding Morea and co's words, Lou Reed's introductory statement at the top of The Velvet Underground's set dismantled any lingering thoughts of riot. “I'd just like to make one thing clear. We have nothing to do with what went on earlier and in fact we consider it very stupid. This our favorite place to play in the whole country and we would hate to see anyone even try to destroy it!” Reed's words were followed by a massive applause.

“Lou Reed hated us, apparently,” Kramer said. “Everything we were was like the complete opposite of them. They didn’t play all that well. Their rhythm section wasn’t that strong. Their music wasn’t that strong. They kind of took a passive-aggressive stance. We knew how to play, we knew how to dance, and we knew how to sing. We had something positive that we were trying to get across. We were probably everything that they weren’t.”

Kramer recalled a bandmate telling him that Reed even asked all the MC5 fans to leave before VU started their set. “And at that point, I was probably chasing some young woman, on my way to the after party. I could have cared less what he said. He is entitled to his opinion, it was his face and he can do whatever the hell he wants to do. We definitely did not connect there as allies or comrades.”

Don Law didn't walk away with a high opinion of the band either. MC5 were permanently banned from The Boston Tea Party, and as Don Law rose to prominence as a concert promoter, that grudge closed some important doors for the band. Kramer surmises that perhaps the Motherfuckers/Werewolf contingent raised a few dollars that night, but nothing too substantial. In the end, narrowly, Ben Morea was acquitted of the two stabbings in front of Arlington Church. “The foreman told me that it was all down to one juror. On the first vote it was 11 to 1 in favour of convicting me, but one guy managed to convince the others that there was enough doubt to let me go. I don't know who he was, but I owe that one guy my liberty.”

In the coming weeks, things only got more intense for MC5. The day after Christmas in 1968, the band was booked at Bill Graham's Fillmore East in New York where most of the tickets had been given away for free on various radio programs. A label representative at Elektra was spooked by an anonymous call threatening to burn the venue to the ground if a percentage of the tickets didn't go directly to “the community,” so many of the exact troublemakers they were worried about ended up being admitted to the concert. As the show began, there were hundreds of people still trying to get inside the venue. Graham, worried about going over-capacity tried to seal the front door but was whipped in the face with a chain. As MC5 finished their set, the stage was attacked by a portion of the audience, smashing their equipment and instruments. Outside, the sight of the revolutionary rock band climbing into a limousine didn't sit well with the hyped-up crowd either, and the band were pulled out of the vehicle, pushed around, and pelted with their own records.

Even after being generously assisted by the band in Boston, the events in New York soured Ben Morea on the MC5 for good. “They projected themselves as a 'revolutionary' rock group...then they ran out symbolically getting into a limousine, going to a restaurant no one in our community has ever been in. The whole image of that was rather obnoxious.” After MC5's disastrous night in Boston, local writer Jon Landau, the man who had trashed the “Boston Sound” in Rolling Stone Magazine, made the leap from page to studio, producing their 1970 album, Back in the USA.

The poster for the weekend of shows had been created by former Tea Party manager Steve Nelson who drew the band in the style of stick figures as a child might render them. In light of the events of what transpired, the innocence on display is amusing, but also correctly contrasted the Velvet Underground against the antics of MC5. “I was going against the grain of what their image was,” Nelson showed the poster to Lou Reed who asked, “How'd you know that's who we really are?'”

The above text is a section that was cut from Astral Weeks: A Secret History of 1968.

[anotherthotpocket]

protest is not the new brunch.

A reminder that Milo was going to out undocumented students at Berkeley with the intention of having them unjustly deported. 

A reminder that Milo has previously outed queer and trans students on college campuses.

A reminder that this nation has a history of violent direct action, specifically targeting property (THE BOSTON MOTHERFUCKING TEA PARTY).

A reminder that the Stonewall Riots destroyed property and was a protest against police brutality towards trans women of color.

A reminder that conflating violence against a person with violence against property is racist, homophobic, and misogynist.

A reminder that you don't have to participate in violent action to understand it.

A reminder that violent protest, peaceful protest, civil disobedience, strikes, and not standing for the fucking national anthem have all been used against communities of color as "not quite right" ways to show discontent and used to discredit the demands for freedom and equity. 

A reminder that there is no right way to protest in a brown, black, or native body but plenty of ways that will be misconstrued as wrong by the white masses. The best way to proceed is to do what feels right to YOU.

A reminder that protesting is not a new trend; it has been the main method of direct democratic vocalization of politically silenced voices for generations. 

A reminder that one is invited to be an ally, one does not designate themselves an ally. 

A reminder to start organizing for your community FIRST, not in order to bring white folks up to speed.

A reminder to resist however you can and want to and are inspired to where and when you can. 

A reminder to practice unapologetic acts of self-care.

A reminder to read Why We Can't Wait, by Martin Luther King Jr. 

A reminder to read Malcolm X.

A reminder to read bell hooks

and Audre Lorde

and Angela Davis

and Assata Shakur

and Huey Newton 

and Stokely Carmichael 

and Toni Morrison

and Sandra Cisneros

and Gloria Anzaldúa

and Leslie Silko

and Maxine Hong Kingston

and Nayyirah Waheed

and Suheir Hammad

and Junot Diaz.

And lastly, a reminder to resist. 

[minimallows13]

Hetalia Boston Tea Party

America: *picks up box of tea* Britian: What are you doing? America: *walks to the edge of the ship* Britian: Don't you dare. America: *Holds box over the edge* Britian: America, I swear to God if you do- America: FREEDOM MOTHERFUCKER!! *Throws box into harbor* Britian: DAMMIT AMERICA!! #Hetalia #AphBritian #AphAmerica

[dailydatguybroadcast]

The power of knowledge - exemplied: They tried to debilitate me using racism. They tried to cripple me using racism. They tried to force my love away from my own people using RACISM. They were: Those that wanted me. Those that hated me. Those that l had beaten that wanted to beat me a some thing which could have been any thing. Those that saw an indentured servitude use for those that I wanted. Those that wanted black men undercover from me. Those that didn’t want the lives that they had. They all globbed together and attacked me. Only to have - my power - POWER- POWER I said- which was the knowledge, the voice, the ability to dissect them as “The DOCTOR” would in O.R. The ghost - that provided me the airwaves - to disseminate my message in a voice that was greater than that of the evil - COCKSUCKER? And we shut this BITCH down!

The American Revolution began with a VOICE. Yeap - a voice of one spreading the TEA. Boston TEA party and the Boston massacre. The next time- you want to suck a cock - you better learn to suck your own people’s cocks first! You never know who the fuck - your government-sponsored cocksuckers have to FACE in a war! We don’t love NO GOD DAMN HOE! Motherfucker! -------brought to you by talkLIVE, talk VIEW, TalkTERRY "LIVE" - god damnit! And we don't have to do any more than any other race to get you- we will just KILL your blank ass!