Birds sing in the meadow and the old refuse to move on and desperately clinch to their youth. Grown men and women tirelessly work in dead end jobs only to support these elderly statesmen. A shining cloud of polyester begins to form on the horizon. The smell of decay permeates the air as all excitement is lost and contained in a mist of organization. The once mighty metal beast slumbers with screams of the forgotten hoard and misunderstood going unheard. "Where are the Gods of Thunder? Have they forsaken us?" asks a young boy to his sobbing mother. Deep in the underground a new generation is toiling, forgetting the real and living in a new web of life. Without these rebel pioneers the real world is suffering and the metal gods sleep. Metal worships still ring loud on this web and new gods form. Their followers begin to form a monstrous pit, but to the real it is silenced. The pit swells gaining force and power the deeper it travels, but the old waves are forgotten and a terrible price is being paid.
What the hell am I talking about? Barry Manilow's newest CD "Songs of the Fifties" is the number one album in America. THE HUMANITY!!!