So, Jim, I heard about what happened.

[Salty]

It sounds like you messed up your hands pretty good. 75 stitches.  Good lord, Jim. You gotta be more careful. In fact, you may just want to stay out of funhouses for awhile until you get your shit together. 

Don't get angry. It's for your own good. 

You see, walking into those places, the first thing you're gonna see is mirrors. There may be some other attractions, but not until you get past those damned mirrors. I'm sure you've noticed they don't sit still, huh? At first it looks like an optical illusion, but I assure you it's not. 

The reflections you see, the ones that shift and stretch amd widen and shorten into next to nothingness, they're not just images. That'd be nice, but no. The mirrors themselves change shape. Sometimes they move around, shifting from left to right, backwards and forwards. Sometimes they grow legs and walk right out the funhouse door, never to be seen again.

I now it seems unlikely, but that's the funhouse for you.  

That can be awfully unsettiling, Jim. I know. And yet, it's no reason to stay out of the funhouse altogether. And it certainly is no reason to rush in there and smash as many mirrors as you can. 

Look at your hands, Jim. You've nearly ruined them. And for what? So you don't have to see what those mirrors have to show you? So no one else has to see what they've shown you?

That's just selfish. And anyway, just because you've smashed them doesn't mean they're still not there. 

So take a breather, Jim. Let those hands heal up. And when you're ready, get back in there and have a good time.


Alty,
Been there and doing just that.   

[Doktor Howl]

It's not what the reflections SHOW me, I can live with who I am.  It's what they TELL me, at 3AM, when nobody is around, and the fucking reflections start whispering horrible truths to me.  

They tell me that rock n roll has been dead for 30 years, and that nobody but me misses Roy Orbison and Elvis Presley and James Brown.  They tell me that while I may be in better shape than I was a year ago, I'm still a fucking relic, a Goddamned dinosaur, the last of the old rock n rollers, all the others have died or become insurance salesmen listening to that fucking John Meyer, or went and found some thing they think is Jesus.

So, yeah, I'm going to punch those shitty mirrors, because they're either lying to me, or I have no reason to not punch them.  History has passed me by, and it really isn't any fun being the last gunslinger.  Shane knew about that, that's why he got killed defending the farmer, instead of letting the bad guys kill the farmer, so Shane could get the girl.

There's no fucking room, Alty, there's no place for a crusty fucker like me, even if the mirrors DO make the room look bigger.

75 stitches.  That's one for every thousand promises that they broke.  That's one for every kick ass greaser boy friend of mine that fell by the wayside.  That's scars, Alty.  I have them.  And one day, so will you.

[Salty]

There's no room. You're right. I was born without rock and roll. I was born into a pre-fabricated, wholesale life without any need to look at those mirrors, or hear what they have to say, or to smash them even.

So I'll get in a good look. And I'll listen to what they have to say. And I'll probably find good reason to break those fuckers, true enough.

But I gotta see, I gotta know. The alternative is never looking at them, never having a need for those scars.

You've seen those soft, pink, manicured hands that never have and never will let themselves be damaged. They belong to people who've never bothered to even step foot inside the funhouse, people who are too filled with blind fear to take the risk. No, they'd rather gaze at a picture designed to LOOK like a mirror and hope that it is they're whole lives while the blood that may or may not flow from their hands pools at their feet and rots. I'd rather set myself up for a bloody mess than "live" that sterile, smooth, scarless existence.

[Doktor Howl]

There's no room. You're right. I was born without rock and roll.

THEN FOR FUCK'S SAKE, GO FIND IT. 

Hint:  It isn't on Youtube or Pirate Bay.

[BadBeast]

Born without Rock and Roll??
Rock and Roll isn't just Music! That's just the acceptable face of the noise it makes. Rock and Roll is the growling, snarling beast inside that wont lie down. The dying breath of the last righteous cowboy, as he's gunned down by the posse. The restless spirits of all those men who knew what life was worth, before they died. Hendrix knew. Janis too. It's the joy that you might have to die for. It's the voice that dares to say no I will not give up my integrity, when they wave a cheque for a million quid under your nose. It's the head, cracked by a Police baton at a picket line, the dissident, locked in some third world hell hole dungeon. Joan of Arc was Rock and Roll. Joshua Norton was Rock and Roll. Tupac was Rock and Roll. Zappa too.  Lord Byron, was Rock and Roll.
The fly in the ointment of convention. If you want to find "Rock and Roll, you'll have to look as well as listen. And look in some unexpected places too. None of them "Graceland". It's not dead, or lost, until the last breath, of the last man, who ever had a dream he gave up. You can't kill something like that. But you can always find it if you look in the right places.

[Doktor Howl]

Born without Rock and Roll??
Rock and Roll isn't just Music! That's just the acceptable face of the noise it makes. Rock and Roll is the growling, snarling beast inside that wont lie down. The dying breath of the last righteous cowboy, as he's gunned down by the posse. The restless spirits of all those men who knew what life was worth, before they died. Hendrix knew. Janis too. It's the joy that you might have to die for. It's the voice that dares to say no I will not give up my integrity, when they wave a cheque for a million quid under your nose. It's the head, cracked by a Police baton at a picket line, the dissident, locked in some third world hell hole dungeon. Joan of Arc was Rock and Roll. Joshua Norton was Rock and Roll. Tupac was Rock and Roll. Zappa too.  Lord Byron, was Rock and Roll.
The fly in the ointment of convention. If you want to find "Rock and Roll, you'll have to look as well as listen. And look in some unexpected places too. None of them "Graceland". It's not dead, or lost, until the last breath, of the last man, who ever had a dream he gave up. You can't kill something like that. But you can always find it if you look in the right places.

THIS.  FOR FUCK'S SAKE, THIS.

[Jasper]

What's funny is, that tired catchphrase - rock'n'roll will never die - is true.  It's a spirit of defiance and hubris, and it has it's mandate.  It needs no approval.

"Rock 'n Roll is the most brutal, ugly, desperate, vicious form of expression it has been my misfortune to hear."
-Frank Sinatra

Well Frank, up your ass.  Rock'n'Roll is God.

[Doktor Howl]

What's funny is, that tired catchphrase - rock'n'roll will never die - is true.  It's a spirit of defiance and hubris, and it has it's mandate.  It needs no approval.

"Rock 'n Roll is the most brutal, ugly, desperate, vicious form of expression it has been my misfortune to hear."
-Frank Sinatra

Well Frank, up your ass.  Rock'n'Roll is God.

Hell, yeah.  But it's become a little neutered, like a statue of Mithras tucked away and forgotten in the back of a Catholic shrine in middle ages France.

[Jasper]

It requires sacrifice.  When was the last time a proper rock star had OD'ed on something unspeakable or choked on their own vomit?

[Doktor Howl]

It requires sacrifice.  When was the last time a proper rock star had OD'ed on something unspeakable or choked on their own vomit?

INXS DOESN'T COUNT!   

[BadBeast]

It requires sacrifice.  When was the last time a proper rock star had OD'ed on something unspeakable or choked on their own vomit?

These days, you'll need to choke on someone else's vomit. That's Rock and Roll.

[LMNO]

What's funny is, that tired catchphrase - rock'n'roll will never die - is true.  It's a spirit of defiance and hubris, and it has it's mandate.  It needs no approval.

"Rock 'n Roll is the most brutal, ugly, desperate, vicious form of expression it has been my misfortune to hear."
-Frank Sinatra

Well Frank, up your ass.  Rock'n'Roll is God.

But in his own, special way, Sinatra was right.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.

[Jasper]

Of course he was.  But giving him the satisfaction is expressly not rock'n'roll.