USA ROCKS

I'm pretty sure my favorite thing about the Statue of Liberty is that she's well-rounded. As you probably know, she rides a Harley. This, on top of the fact that she is a beacon of hope, a vanguard of freedom, and a symbol for all that is America, makes her a pretty sweet chick. What you may not know about her is that she's also in a band.

The band is called "USA ROCKS," and they certainly do, considering they are the the largest supergroup on Earth, the band with the greatest economy, the most diverse resources, the broadest assortment of cultures, and the largest and most technologically advanced street team in all of history. Finding themselves closely rivaled during the bulk of the 20th Century by Russian prog-rock combo Gorby Parque, the Rocks solidified their rock supremecy when American DJ and rock icon "Rockin'" Ronnie Reagan demanded during MTV's pilot broadcast of the short-lived MTV Democracy, "Mick Gorby, turn down your amps!" The award-winning pinko lead singer obliged, setting the stage for the eventual dismemberment of Soviet prog-rock worldwide.

A Brief History

In the fall of 1959 four very individual, very talented philosophy students found themselves forging a new sound based on many of the folk songs of their particular places of origin. Songs like "When Johnny comes Marching Home Again (Tra-La-Tra-La-La-La-La, Live For Today)" and "Square Deal Gone Down" launched them to the top of the charts and the exit polls. Fueled by the differences that at times drove them to the brink of collapse, The Rushmores, as they called themselves, released the highly acclaimed Meet the Rushmores in 1960, pushing the boundaries of both the young genre of rock and roll and democracy itself.

Promotional Photo for Meet the Rushmores!

Originally fronted by vocalist T.J. Rider (Thomas Jefferson), the band also consisted of guitarist and songwriter Teddy Bluesevelt (Theodore Roosevelt), bassist Abraham "Hammer" Lincoln, and drummer St. Georgie Washingtone (birth name unknown).

"Do not rock softly and carry a bitchin' Jackson"
—Teddy Bluesevelt

 T.J Rider

By the release of their second album later in 1960, the members agreed that the addition of a vocalist who could focus only on singing would benefit the sound of the group, allowing Rider to expand his use of keyboards, theramin, and hurdy-gurdy during live performances. The band's relationship with late-50's/early-60's Irish-American crooner Johnny F. Kennedy ("Oh Danny Boy-Oh-Boy," "Good Golly Miss Molly Malone") garnered them much media attention during the Bay of Gigs fiasco in April 1961, at which many more Cuban fans than were expected arrived at the small "Bay of Gigs" club south of Havana, and hundreds of American fans were turned away at the door. The following year the band's reputation was restored at the Cuban Music Convention, at which their closest Russian rivals at the time, the Cruise Chevys, quietly packed up and went home, admitting that they "just couldn't follow that act." It was at this point the Rushmores changed their name to USA ROCKS. Their momentum, however, came to an abrupt halt when Kennedy, on a solo tour of the American South, was mysteriously killed in the Texas city of Dallas in November of 1963.

The Ever-Charming Johnny Kennedy

After a short hiatus, the band replaced Kennedy with former Flowing Robes singer Lady Liberty (Marie-Jeanne Roland), a French transplant to New York who had, at one time, carried the distinction of being the only female vocalist to have a top-ten single in the folk, blues, and jazz charts simultaneously with her enormously popular protest song "Huddled Masses." Her brief marriage to Stéphane Grappelli contributed greatly to her early love and use of Gypsy Jazz forms in her writing. Liberty was featured alone on the cover of the eponymous fourth USA ROCKS album (1970), an indication to many that she would soon be venturing forth as a solo artist, an indication that proved true but which never encroached on her dedication and commitment to the band.

The band continues to release new material and tour worldwide, encountering resistance to their sound only in places where the daily struggle to survive seems to take precedence over the support and enjoyment of trite pop frivolity. All of the band members have taken on solo projects with varying degrees of success, most notably Washingtone's darkwave group Valley Forge. Valley Forge garnered critical success with their 1982 concept album Crossing the River of Souls and its outstanding track "Beware, Delaware."

Washingtone pioneered the drumming technique 

now known as "Saber Stickin'"

Culturaly Ambiguous Vocal Undulations

Oh, how I love films. Real MAN films, you know, like Boiler Room and The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift, and Platoon Leader. Real badass stuff. I have no time for your sissy art-house crap like To Sir, With Love or Amadeus.

Pansy

Man

What is it about real man movies that makes them truly transcendent of all that is badassness? The score. The music. The sweeping, triumphant vehicles of harmonal ecstasy upon which we are raised to the heights of triumphant harmonal ecstasy. Or something. Why on earth would I waste my time with a movie propelled by such duds as Lulu's tearjerking song about growing up or something as bombastic and trite as Mozart's "Gran Partita" when I could be getting my movie ass-kickin' on to such gems of melodic wisdom, fire-lightin', and tire-kickin' as "Ooh-Ahh" and  "Big Money Talk"? RECOGNIZE, BROHEIM!

But let us move on to the Man Movie of the Scholar. The film for the Warrior-Poet. The talkies, if you will, for the guy who is just as at home with his pipe and a well-worn copy of The DaVinci Code as he is at The Rockin' Taco Cantina, belting out endless choruses of "What's My Age Again?" delivered by dueling pianos, finishing off the night by beating the shit out of the guy who had the balls to smile at his girlfriend.

 Warrior-Poet, Son

These defenders of the American Family are students of films like Troy, Gladiator, and Pathfinder. They don't just watch these celluloid scrolls of ancient wisdom, they live them. They feed off of them, taking in the teatmilk of strength and valor they need to do battle on the plains of money market investing and yacht sales. And believe you me when I tell you it's the music that truly captures their souls and ensnares their hearts with the puma-trap that is divinity.

The music of the culturally-ambiguous-period-epic-romantic-drama-disguised-as-warfare movie.

It is glorious music meant only for the gloriously-minded. It can only be appreciated by a man who can fully grasp the weight and import of Royal Shakespeare Company member, Commander of the order of the British Empire recipient, and Laurence Olivier Theatre Award holder Brian Cox delivering such ripe fruits of depth as "The Gods only protect the strong."

I Swear This Role was Not Beneath You, Revered Actor Who Played  Dr. Nelson Guggenheim and Uncle Argyle

It's truly awe-inspiring to know that concepts of courage, honor, integrity, and terrorist-killing can all be transmitted through pounding, primitive-sounding drums, vaguely Bedouin melodies played on instruments which sound as if they were cobbled together from palm leaves and camel sinews, soaring strings that impeccably meld quasi-Celtic and para-Arabian orchestration, and, of course, the impossible-to-denounce-as-not-truly-Middle-Eastern-vocal-undulations-because-hey-like-anyone-watching-will-know-the-difference vocal undulations produced by some on-the-payroll soprano. I mean, this stuff is the shizzz! But don't just take my word for it; one internet pundit writes, "Gladiator is without a doubt the finest collection of music on one CD that I have ever had the pleasure of listening to. The music has a way of bringing you into it." I mean, that is HEAVY. DEEP. HEAVY and DEEP. Like our Mother, the vast Mediterranean, or something.

The Finest Collection of Music on One CD

Trite Pap

Ride on (comma) Freedom!

Best T-shirt ever, man:

I'm not even sure where to start. How about the sentence structure?

"Ride on Freedom"

Okay, so, we do know that this phrase is an imperative. Someone or something is being told to do something. It's times like this that insight into the shirt designer's working knowledge of commas would come in quite handy. Assuming he or she knows how to use commas, the omission of one here would indicate that the phrase is directed to the reader of the shirt, the motorcycle is named "Freedom," and the Statue of Liberty is showing you how to "Ride on Freedom." Assuming the artist doesn't know how to use commas correctly, we might read this as a directive to the embodiment of "Freedom" to "ride on." I'm going to run with this line of thought on this one, considering the choice of rider, the Mother of Exiles, is the ultimate symbol of freedom this world has ever known.  Well, her, and this guy:

Besides, people who buy shirts like this don't know crap about comma use, anyway, so I'm stickin' with this hypothesis.

Now, on to the picture itself.


IT'S THE STATUE OF FREAKIN' LIBERTY RIDING A HARLEY.


I assume it's a Harley, because we all know that any other motorcycle built by any other company is clearly the vehicle of commies, baby killers, queers, non-Christians, and people who support socialized medicine. I'm also assuming it's a GIGANTIC Harley, considering it's being ridden by a 151-foot-tall copper statue. It's a good thing she got those ape-hangers installed; I'm sure her arms needed a good stretch after 124 years of holding that pesky torch and that cumbersome keystone. I sure hope she traded in her sandals for some kick-ass harness boots, yo. 

Freedom Fightin' Shizzz Kickers

(By the by, Statue de la Liberté came from France, as you probably know. It's a safe bet that the majority of right-wingers, Republicans, Focusers on Your Family, et. al., don't know this, or she would have been kicked to the curb way back in '02. Forget the fact that we wouldn't have ever won the Revolution without France's help, either, but I digress.)

I'm guessing that in order to get that 91,100cc hog across the water, they leveled the top couple of decks off a Stanton Island Ferry and muscled this great cycle of Democracy over to Liberty Island, where The Big Metal Momma did a badass front flip off her pedestal, moonwalked over to the bike, pulled up her scaffolded skirts, and threw a leg over the Old Gloryfied tank of her new Star-Spangled sled. Peter Fonda was there, I'm sure, a tear glistening in his eye as he meditated on how much good he had done in this life by once straddling his own American flag chopper and setting off a wave of wholesome, conservative patriotism in the hearts of youth from sea to shining sea.

R.I.P., Billy

But was our fair Coppertone Girl going to take the sissy way back across the water, on the backside of some pansy-ass boat? Heck no. Now I wasn't there, but my sources inform me that at this point, she reached down, picked up that modified ferry, and slammed its bow deep into the grass of Liberty Island, forming the world's most treacherous and terrorist-frightening kicker ramp of all time. After gunning the short run-up, hitting that ramp and blasting the crap out of the airspace above New York Harbor, she busted a double-back-flip Carolla nac-nac before touching down in Battery Park like a down feather in a sunbeam. She was overheard saying, "If I hadn't powered down that sick burrito from Pedro's right before takeoff, I know I coulda blasted that thing all the way into Afghanistan or wherever and kicked the dick off that King Hussein bin Laden!!! EXTREME!!!"

siiiiiiiiiiick.com

I can honestly say I've never felt closer to our Founding Fathers, Sarah Palin, or the X-Games.

These Colors Don't Run Without the Key