Tales from the Wasteland

I love the smell of napalm in the morning!

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Ah - now that’s the bloody stuff!


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<------------------------------------- ------------------------------------->

Rudolph Valentino looks very much alive,
And he looks up ladies dresses as they sadly pass him by.
Avoid stepping on Bela Lugosi,
Cos he's liable to turn and bite.
But stand close by Bette Davis
Because hers was such a lonely life.

I don’t know where you are, Revv-er-rund Clank-un-stein.

[No one does.][1]

But if you can hear us,

here’s a psalm about fixing.


cc @davide405
[1]: Badass Dragons of the Wasteland - Round Six Results


Studio Version?!?

You ARE British.


I worked out why Clank got left behind.

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Are you saying he was just…


It’s like he’s always stuck in second gear.

No. Not going there. I have my limits.

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Oblivious to all radio chatter, Junior continues to drive, toward the last known location of Clank.

And, unfortunately for anyone in earshot, by which I mean Lemmy…Junior begins to sing.


Little Ear Ache
(You don't know what I got)
Little Ear Ache
(You don't know what I got)

Well I'm not braggin' man, so don't put me down
But I've got the loudest set of subs in town
When something comes up to me, they don't even try
Cause if I play some dubstep, man, I know he would fry

It's my Little Ear Ache
(You don't know what I got)
My Little Ear Ache
(You don't know what I got)


<----------------------------------- ----------------------------------->

That Pizza Oven was…

The Last Resort…

She came from Providence,
the one in Rhode Island
Where the old world shadows hang
heavy in the air
She packed her hopes and dreams
like a refugee
Just as her uncle came
across the sea

She heard about a place where
people were smilin’
Spoke about the Hollywood ways,
and how they loved the land.
They came from everywhere
to the Great Rocket Ride
Seeking a place to Stand
or a place to Hide.

Down in the crowded bars,
out for a good time,
Can’t wait to tell you all,
what it’s like up there!
And they called it pizza-dise
I don’t know why
Somebody laid the mountains low
while the town got high…

Then the chilly winds blew down
Across the desert
through the canyons of the coast,
to the Malibu
Where the Zombie people play,
hungry for fingers
to fill their empty stomachs
and give them things to chew

Some rich man came and raped the land,
Nobody caught him
Put up a bunch of ugly bots
and Jesus, people bought from 'em
And they call’d them “Stretchbots”
“The Place ta Fix.”
They watched the hazy sun, sinking in the sea.

You can leave it all behind
and fly to Planet Ares
just like those Drivers did, so many years ago.
They even brought a neon sign: “The Kid is coming”
It brought the white woman’s burden down
It brought the white woman’s reign.

Who will provide the grand design?
What is yours and what is mine?
'Cause there is no more new frontier
We have got to make it here,

We satisfy our endless needs and
fuel our cars with dirty deeds
in the name of destiny and the name
of Marion.

And you can see there,
On Sunday morning
Stand up and sing about
What the flapjacks are like over there
She calls it paradise
I don’t know why
You call someplace paradise,

Kiss it Goodbye.


**Jack. **

I told you how I feel about The Eagles.


Fine, Lemmy. Fine. I’ll turn off the Eagles.

Let’s practice that acoustic number again.

so you think you can tell?
Heaven from Hell?

Blue skies from pain?

Can you tell a green field
from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

Did they get you to trade
your heroes to bust ghosts?
Hot slices for trees?

Hot air for antifreeze?
Cold comfort for change?

Did they exchange
your walk on part with gwwar
for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.

We’re just two lost souls drivin’ in this dust bowl
year after year*
Driving over the same old ground.

What have we found?

The same old fears.

Wish you were here.


*at this rate!


A way out west,
there was this fella,
fella I want to tell you about,
fella by the name of Jack.


At least, that was the handle his adoptive parents gave him.

But he never had much use for it himself.

Now, this Burton, he called himself the “Junior.

Now “Junior” that’s a name no one would
self-apply where I come from.

But then, there was a lot about the “Junior
that didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me.

And a lot about where he lived, like- wise.
San Diego? Feh.

But then again, maybe that’s why I found this whole rocket story
so durned innarestin’.


They call Los Angeles
the City of Angels.

I didn’t find it to be
that exactly,

but I’ll allow as there are

some nice folks there.


I can’t say I seen London,

and I never been to France,
and I ain’t never seen no queen in her damn undies
as the fella says.

But I’ll tell you what…
after seeing Los Angeles and
this a here story I’m about to unfold—
well, I guess I seen somethin’ ever’
bit as stupefyin’ as ya’d see in any
a those other places.

and in English too.

So I can die with a smile on my face
without feelin’ like the good Lord cheated me


<----------------------------------- ----------------------------------->

This one’s for all you nameless Drivers out there. The ones doing the hard work in the Mule train, that we aren’t hearing about so much.

Here’s to you!

I ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ʙᴜᴛ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ᴀ ᴄᴜʀʀʏ.


Lee Majors, come again!