#Meat Puppets

[bluecollarmcandtf]

The New Garbageman

Lance slowed from his run and glanced at the trash compactor sitting outside his apartment complex. He needed to catch his breath, but he hated being so close. The young man gave a disdainful look to the laborer who seemed wholly unbothered by his choice in career. 'Some men are just meant for menial crap like this,' he thought to himself, 'God knows I wouldn't be caught dead doing it.'

The jogger looked straight ahead as he passed, not wanting to make eye contact with the sucker lugging away a week's worth of his building's refuge. Lance thought the smell alone was enough to make him gag, but he was even more disturbed by the garbageman's indifference to the squishy contents leaking all over his clothes.

'At what point is that worker just considered trash himself?' Lance pondered with a grimace.

Just as he was about to escape into the entrance of the complex, a sharp ripping noise sounded behind him, followed by a clamour of things crashing to the ground.

Lance made the mistake of looking back, seeing a huge mess scattered across the sidewalk. It looked like a garbage can had exploded and now there was rotten food and crumpled papers everywhere, but that damn sanitation worker had vanished!

"The hell!" Lance shouted in anger, but his rage didn't last long.

A sudden pain stabbed him in the back and he crumpled to the ground like all the garbage had moments before. Everything went black...

Lance shook off the daze and found himself leaning against one of the garbage bins. The pain in his back didn't feel as acute anymore. All he could feel was an unusual warmth spreading from where he had been stung.

"Where is that goddamn garbage man," he growled, wincing at the litter surrounding him. He was ready to give that idiot a piece of his mind.

He put his hand on the concrete in an attempt to get himself up, but was surprised by the feeling of gloves over his fingers. Lance stared at his gloved palms with total confusion. He was sure as hell that he didn't put those old worn things on!

Then he noticed his shoes. They weren't the sneakers he'd been jogging in moments before. They were some kind of work boots!

"What the hell!" he exclaimed, wondering if he'd actually been knocked out and robbed.

Lance pushed his fears aside and began climbing to his feet, but as he did, he noticed something had appeared over his shoulders!

"Where'd this come from?" he cried, becoming more and more angry as articles of clothing just kept appearing on his body.

He was positive this dirty old jacket didn't belong to him. It was covered with stains and reeked like a public bathroom. Lance had a habit of always keeping his clothes freshly laundered and fragranced. He wouldn't even wear jeans two days in a row without washing them, so what was this raggedy work jacket doing in his back?

Lance frantically started to pull the thing off, but it seemed stuck on his waistband or something. No amount of thrashing could get him to pull the thing over his head!

He moaned in frustration and threw his fists down angrily. Then, he noticed why the jacket wouldn't come off. It took him a second to realize what he was looking at. The jacket was attached to the new pants he had on!

Lance shouted out in a state of confused panic. "Help!" he cried, not knowing what else to do, but even if someone did come over, what would he tell them? They'd never believe that his clothes were magically being replaced!

He couldn't even bring himself to look down at what he was wearing. Gone were his running shorts and tank top. In their place, a gross old jumpsuit had enveloped his body. Lance was struck by the itchiness of the course material, but he was even more horrified by how damp it felt against his skin. He didn't want to know what liquid those coveralls were saturated with; oil, sweat, or something even worse?

Lance couldn't find his phone in any of his new attire's pockets. He didn't know what was going on, but he was about to start screaming if he didn't find out soon. His breathing intensified while his heart raced out of his chest. He could feel the panic attack coming.

Then all of a sudden, he stopped...

That warm feeling in his back had washed over his entire body and told every tense muscle to relax. Lance's heart rate eased and his breathing slowed. The confusion, worry, and panic in his face was gone: a numb expression sat in its place.

Lance didn't understand why he had suddenly become so calm. Internally, he was still disgusted, horrified, and outraged, but he couldn't deny how relaxed his body had became.

Finally able to gain his bearing, the former jogger climbed up from the ground and gave his new outfit another look.

"What the hell is this thing," he wondered, but his voice had a comparatively lifeless tone.

Lance studied the clothing. The boots were caked with dirt and grime. He could feel his feet sweating inside them. In fact, his entire body felt like it was being cooked. He was completely covered from the neck down with some pretty heavy duty work wear. It was all clothing he would never be caught dead in, yet it looked kind of familiar.

Suddenly it, clicked.

"I'm dressed a goddamn garbage man," Lance spoke again with a monotoned voice.

Then his mouth moved on its own, "I am a garbage man."

The words chilled him to the core. He had not meant to say them! That warm feeling that started in his back had moved to his throat and taken over.

Before he knew it, his hands were moving on their own too. They were picking up the trash littered around him! His legs moved to, crawling his body across the concrete, and Lance couldn't do anything to stop himself.

His mouth wouldn't open when he tried! He wanted to scream! His arms and legs weren't doing what he wanted either. He was trapped in his own body! Lance couldn't speak; he couldn't run; he couldn't hide; he couldn't even panic. His own heart beat at a steady pace like he was the calmest man in the world! His lungs systematically drew in breath after calm breath, and his face was locked in an empty look of indifference...

Lance would have to get used to being around the trash. He was a garbageman now...

One Year Later...

Lance had never imagined he'd be trapped as a garbage collector for this long. His body hadn't let him look back once since he walked away from his old life. Who knows what happened to his apartment and family. He'd long since given up on the idea of ever going back to his old life.

His days were now spent being puppettered to take out other people's trash. It was disgusting hard work that he got no thanks for, but that didn't matter. He wasn't in control of his body, and his body just kept lugging rank bags of garbage day after day after day.

He'd been subjected to millions of dirty looks as people caught sight of him. Lance knew he must seem pathetic. He was sure he smelled even worse. How could anyone respect a man like him? Even after a year, his face still burnt red when someone looked grossed out by him.

The discomfort of his uniform has become normal to Lance. It was itchy and humid under there, which made sense since it hadn't been washed in the all the time he'd had it on.

Well, that wasn't entirely true...

Every night after work, his body would hop on the garbage truck and get dropped off at the sanitation department's parking garage. There he and the rest of the garbage crew would hose each other down. It didn't do much other than make him cold, but at least he got that.

After the makeshift shower, he and the rest of the guys would file into the garage. Lance assumed that every one of the laborers were being used as puppets like him, because they appeared just as numb and lifeless as he did. There was no chummy chitchat; there were no friendly waves or claps on the back; hell there wasn't even a smile or frown on any of their faces.

All the garbagemen acted like robotic slaves for unpaid labor, which is exactly what they were.

Lance's theory was that when he'd felt that pain a year ago, he'd had some sort of Syfy-futuritic-techno crap inserted in his back. It had to be controlling his actions. He could feel it on his spine, sending signals to the resto for his body for how to behave.

It was just a theory. He couldn't prove or disprove anything when he had no autonomy over his own body.

So he was stuck seeing himself play out the same awful routine everyday. 'At least the day's almost over,' he thought to himself. At least he could still dream of a life where he didn't wear this disgusting uniform and pick up garbage all day.

Lance's body joined the rest of the men on the floor. This was where they spent their nights. Whoever was controlling them was clearly too cheap to buy them beds let alone showers or laundry machines

It usually got pretty bleak in there: a whole room of men that aren't allowed to talk or interact outside of working together. There was nothing else to do but sleep, so Lance slid down to the concrete and closed his eyes, wondering if he would ever be anything other than a smelly garbageman ever again.

He thought back to his old life, dreaming about that last morning run he'd gotten before all this happened. He fantasized about what would have happened if he'd just ran around the block one more time.

Would he have avoided this fate or was he just destined for menial crap like this?

Thanks for the Ask, workgearfan

[music-tourney]

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Sonic Youth - Gila Monster Jamboree (January 5, 1985)

How are you spending the first weekend of 2025? I'm going to suggest you join me in a little time travel to the infamous/incredible Gila Monster Jamboree, which took place just about 40 years ago. Saying "things were better back then" is a losing game, and obviously kind of dumb. But things sure were different back then, right? The tale of this hallucinatory desert festival has been told many times, most comprehensively in the Desolation Center doc. But the OOP VHS of Sonic Youth's set is evocative and astonishing all on its own.

Stuart Swezey: I don’t think I actually even offered them the idea of doing a desert show then, but because they were here in Los Angeles, I met them again and we started talking about this possibility. It just seemed like what a great venue for what they were doing. They had just put out the “Death Valley ’69” single, so there was sort of this fascination with Charles Manson going to the desert and Death Valley. Again, not an obvious place to put on a Sonic Youth show because they were very much associated with New York and this East Village sensibility or whatever, especially for people out here in California, but at the same time it was actually a really perfect idea because I think they were very interested in dark aspects of Americana. Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore were together then. Her family lived in LA and so they were going to be visiting her parents over the holidays. They were like, “Well, we can stay until after New Year’s and then we can do a desert show.” So we picked the first full moon after New Year’s and we went back to the location where we did the first desert show, but used a different side of the same dry lakebed. We all went out there and scouted it. There was a graffiti spray-painted Blue Öyster Cult symbol on a rock. Thurston was like, “That’s where we’re going do it, under the Blue Öyster Cult symbol.”

Lee Ranaldo: This gig, January 5, 1985, 100 miles out into the Mojave Desert, was our first "L.A." gig, first time we'd played on the west coast, part of an airplane tour from Seattle on south. That picture of us "in the back of a Chevy" on the Death Valley '69 12-inch is also from this trip. The gig was organized by one Stuart Sweezy, now of Amok Press (check it out!), who had this penchant for strange locations -- Minutemen and Meat Puppets on a barge on the S.F. Harbor, another desert gig with Einsterzende Neubauten... your ticket entitled you to a map to the gig site which was not handed out until the morning of the show (to prevent scans). Else you could buy a place on one of the buses hired to transport those transported souls with better things to do than cope with the road. The gig started early in the day with Psi-Com, which featured a barefoot Perry Farrell skanking in the sand and waxing poetic. Redd Kross followed, and by the time we went on it was about twilight. These songs were mostly brand new at the time, from the as-yet unreleased Bad Moon Rising LP. We'd waited a long time to make it west, and this was a pretty perfect introduction. Bob Bert was on the drums with us at the time. The cover photo, by someone named Alan Peak, all trails and blurr, sums up the occasion quite well. Band portrait by Naomi Petersen. This video was shot by the folks at Flipside Magazine. After us came the Meat Puppets, who played on into the night as the desert cold set in, under a big ring around the moon.

Oh and hey, check out the Meat Puppets set if you know what's good for ya.

[the-jonestown-holotape]

hey y’all, ty here. 27 she/her looking for new mutuals.

made a new blog since my old one is 13 years old. gonna try posting more of my own stuff while tumblr is still alive and kickin.

follow if any of these tags jump out at you cuz we might just get along <3

[guerrilla-operator]

[punkrockhistory]

40 years ago

D. Boon of Minutemen watches Curt Kirkwood of The Meat Puppets perform at Joy At Sea, San Pedro, California, June 1984

Photo by Ann Summa

[cosmonautroger]

Meat Puppets, Backwater, 1994

[axiseart]

Goretober #22 - Lost humanity

[buildingabetterfuture]

Builder man? Why are there 2 corpses of you on the floor?????

Their wounds look awfully similar to greed's failed body...but without the yellow mess??

I hope those are just doll replicas or else I think somethings fishy going on..

-"whoops"anon

Hahaha! Dolls... Yeah there's just dolls.

[nedison]

Get On Down - Meat Puppets (1987)

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Sexy Dilf Suit For Sale!

Check him out, Internet! I'm selling meat-suits again, and this one is a stud!

I caught him at the park a few years back. The guy casually passed me like he wasn't the sexiest motherfucker I'd ever seen. He was shirtless of course, jogging in a tight pair of running shorts that really showed off his strong legs. He was a lot less hairy back then, when he used to keep all that fur trimmed neatly. I followed him to the park's restroom and converted him there. He had earbuds in, so it was ridiculously easy to sneak up behind him at the urinal. I dragged him into a stall and spent the next few hours hollowing him out. I wore him home that night, and my boyfriend was ecstatic to see me in such a hot dad. The first thing I did was use that guy's low voice to order my partner to, "Pull out daddy's penis."

We spent the night breaking the suit in. It was fairly obvious that the man was a virgin to gay sex. He felt sensitive and tight in all the right areas, and he hid a girthy python between his legs...

This suit was a favorite for public dates. I loved the way men and women stared at me while I was in him! He's honestly one of my favorites, but unfortunately, it has to go. Last week I wore him out to dinner with my boyfriend. Inside his skin, I donned a form-fitting suit and gelled his hair back handsomely. We were cozied up in an expensive restaurant when she came in. "Sam!" she yelled, "You-you're my Samuel!" Obviously, the poor woman was this guy's wife or something. She burst into tears in the middle of the restaurant, wailing about kids that I supposedly shared with her. I tried to convince her that I wasn't this Sam guy. I even made out with my boyfriend in front of her as proof, but she insisted I was him.

Ultimately, we left our date early, and now there's some lady running around looking for the person this meat-suit used to be.

So that's what brings me here! Part of me can't bear to get rid of him. I loved being inside that guy, but I can't keep him around here! I'd like around $5,000 for him, and I'd like to know that whoever's buying will wear him far away from here. That poor lady doesn't need to see him walking around town, completely unaware of his wife or kids.

Like I said, you can expect a lot of attention, strutting around with his handsome body and face. I've never worn him to a club and not had somebody offer to buy my drink. He's just too darn handsome, especially if you show off the goods! The old Samuel was probably too timid to highlight his juicy bubble butt or bulging crotch, but they are very popular with other gay men! Expect a lot of wandering hands!

Anyway, hit me up if you're interested. It'll be laying outside while I wait for an offer. His skin tans beautifully, so I figured I might as well bronze him up for ya!

[ourladyofomega]

📷: Tapehead City (FB)

[napunk-history]

Meat Puppets

[mtvscreengrabs]

Backwater - Meat Puppets (1994)

[guerrilla-operator]

MEAT PUPPETS AT THE LA PRESS CLUB, 9/20/81.