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Hard Jams Inc - The Beginning

How the greatest metal band in history was formed.

The Beginning: In a seedy basement in Georgia, the kind that reeked of the
ghosts of 6 bi-polar dialects seminal fluids, two greasy, passionate, socially
outcasted teens forged their friendship through rock and a mutual
appreciation for jamming things hard. Their allegiance was born one day in
the school halls of Jerkwater USA, when a lanky kid named Johnny, bearing
a striking resemblance to the dude who played Paul on The Wonder
Years, was getting annihilated by some Yale-chinned Neanderthals singing
Nickelback songs while taking turns pummeling the overmatched teen.
Their reckoning was upon them although they didnt quite know it yet,
because the behemoth was striding towards them. Raised on the mean
streets of Cracker-twat GA and carrying a permanent chip on his shoulder
for repeatedly being called a young Ron Howard if Ron Howard had been
dropped at birth and raised by wolves, a fiery, long haired red-head
named Sonic saw this poor kid wearing a Geddy Lee t-shirt getting the sh*t
kicked out of him and channeled the anger of 1000 ginger demons. He
approached the ruckus and said to the kid: one question, what is the name
of Rushs 4th album? When Johnny summoned enough strength to cackle
the correct reply, Sonic exploded into action, weaving firsts of fury born
from copying Neil Peart's drum fills and fueled by a combination of
mescaline, Mountain Dew, and the tears of his parents, who only wanted
him to be normal. With bodies flying everywhere like the cover of his
favorite Slayer album, Sonic had the last bully standing firmly grasped in a
full nelson. The kid screamed PLEASE NOT MY NECK! The only word the
rageful ginger heard was NECK and thought thats a hell of an idea and
screamed NECK! while the sap fell dead to the floor; the victim of a move
Sonic once saw while ferociously masturbating to Kung-Fu movies in his
mothers bedroom. Johnny got up, said something like dude, NECK, and
swore his allegiance that day.
2Iron Maiden

The Formation: Sonic fancied himself a drummer, and damn it if Johnny
didnt play bass. Their bottom end grooves were powerful yet raw, honed
from copying Iron Maiden and Rush songs while avoiding the overgrown
wharf rats in Sonics basement. After a while Sonic had to switch to
bashing random household items because his mom took his drum set away
while embroiled in a fury fed by Silver Wolf vodka, stale Benson and Hedges
cigarettes, and the rage of an aging cougar scorned, but his mothers
trailer-esque shenanigans and unappreciation for the ways of rock did not
deter the metal dreamer inside of this special child. They decided their
work was honed enough to go global. Their first YouTube video, a cover of
Maidens 2 Minutes to Midnight with Johnny on bass and Sonic on pots
and pans and vocals displayed talent and a primal intensity, but it didnt go
viral right away. And as fate would have it, they were damn lucky.
Show No Mercy

Fate Intervenes:
Somewhere in a dank, wet corner of England, a long haired local tough who
legally changed his name to his internet posting board handle KILL (he
thought the name Albert was for fags), was chatting on a few websites.
After completing his last comment on the day and asking some non-metal
pussy if he had even HEARD of Heathen and then calling him a fag because
he could not recite the lineups for every Death album without Googling, he
decided he didnt feel British enough at the moment and went out to
YouTube to study Dave Murrays licks some more. Conceived backstage at
a mid-era Venom concert, young KILL was born in a haze of used heroin
needles, long forgotten spent rubbers, and the ghosts of black metal/hybrid
Thrash riffs. At age 4 he played his first power chord. At 6 he stole his first
Fender. At 13 he had listened to every Thrash album ever and saw an
episode of Trailer Park boys about Rush and even started branching into
Prog. At 16 he was recognized as the best guitarist in
UpperUnctionShireBollocks England, but was always laughed at for playing
nothing but riffs from a long dead genre and would just incoherently
mumble this song is true before each exercise. No rhythm section could
match the intensity and speed of his breakneck guitar leads. He was a kid
without a country, a warrior without a home, a friend without a compatriot,
a Goddamn shredder without mates and chaps. Without giving a toss, he
accidentally pulled up the wrong version of 2 Minutes 2 Midnight. A
Darwinist, KILL was blown away by the primal intensity of what at first
appeared to be an underfed ape and a red-headed chimpanzee covering
Maiden in a way Maiden themselves could not match. He was the first
The following is a transcript of the impending YouTube comments.
KILL: dude.
Sonic: DUDE thanks for watching our video, my Mom said it was neck.
KILL: dude, whats neck.
Sonic: never mind. Dude do you like Maiden?
KILL: fucking m/ yea I think their first album was the best cause Bruce is a
fag compared to Paul.
Sonic: Fist
KILL: I also like Rush. Have you even heard of Rush?
Sonic: Dude do you have a webcam.
KILL: Dude, yes.
(Webcams enabled).
Sonic: Dude, I have 15 Rush t-shirts and the Rush pentagram tattooed on
my chode. I also have 14 Slayer t-shirts and 12 Maiden shirts.
KILL: dude do you thrash and prog?
Sonic: dude what the fuck kind of question is that?
KILL: Dude I thrash so fucking hard
Sonic: dude you play guitar?
KILL: Dude. I made Chuck from Death cry. m/
Sonic. What the fuck is m/
KILL: what the fuck is neck?
Sonic: dude we need a guitar player
KILL: dude I live in England.
Sonic: dude England sucks for thrash. Move to Georgia.
KILL: dude are there chicks there?
Sonic: yeah, we havent scored yet but when we have a band we will. Its
going to be called Hard Jams Inc
KILL: alright dude m/
Sonic: Fist
KILL: Hard
KILL: True
Sonic: Chode
KILL: m/
Sonic: Delch
Sonic: dude get here we will listen to the Necromancer and burn incense it
wont be delch.
KILL: Im on the next plane.
Left hand Path

KILL arrives:
After being detained for looking like a crazed 45 year old pan-handler even
though his ID said he was 18 and the fact his guitar case had a picture of
Immolations Close To a World Below with a massive spiked cock pained
over it, Sonic and Johnny picked KILL up at the airport in a 1976 Ford Pinto.
After a lot of dudes were exchanged, Sonic informed KILL he would be
living in his mothers basement and they would practice, and that his mom
wouldnt know because she was dating a roadie for Toxic Holocaust and
they were on the road. After explaining that revival thrash sucks hard
KILL agreed to the accommodations and said it sounded like a true flat.
On the way home Johnny read one of his creative writing pieces to the
group. It was about rainbow-assed crocodiles that ate local ministers and
dressed up in their robes and would lock the doors at the church on Sunday
and ravenously consume every person in the crowd while chanting Kurt
Vonnegut lines. Sonic was like dude, best story ever and KILL said dude
sounds like a Deicide album. The shy Johnny silently basked in the praise
and plotted his next masterpiece.
Still Life

Angel, The Final Piece:
From the second KILL took his flaming fender out of the spiked cock case
and played the entire 1st half of Entombeds Left Hand Path in 2 minutes
and 47 seconds, the collective three knew greatness was upon them. The
presence of a real musician forced Sonic and Johnny to spend more times
honing their chops and less time playing air instruments and pounding on
things while randomly screaming. It was a match made in hell (in a good
way). With an onslaught of Slayer, DRI, and Poland era Megadeth covers in
the can, they were ready to book some gigs. The problem was they
needed a singer.
The three great minds weighed all of the qualities they wanted in a lead
vocalist. Johnny suggested he be able to hit high notes like Geddy and low
end growls like Benton. KILL said he should sound like a cross between
the dudes from Sodom, Kreator, and Metal Church. Sonic said it would be
cool if he sounded like Varg but then had an epiphany: dudes this is metal,
who gives a shit about how good he can sing. Johnny said what else is
there then? They all 3 had another epiphany and in unison, we need him
to score chicks for us.
The plan: find someone who could score. The problem: All of the good
looking guys in town listened to Daughtry and Nickelback. With barely a
cent to their name, discouragement in their hearts, and a dearth of female
companionship among them, the power trio scraped together enough
money to take the Pinto to Atlanta for an Agalloch concert. It was KILLs
idea, as he thought the band needed to get more epic and explore their
melodic sensibilities. What they didnt know was that fate would intervene.
They strode through the doors like three cocks-of-the-walk, brandishing an
unfounded arrogance and laughing at all of the fags wearing makeup.
KILL and Sonic agreed this certainly wasnt real metal but it would help the
band. The normally quiet Johnny got the gumption to say to a lanky face
painted outcast Go burn a church, fag. He felt good about himself.
Before the show started, Sonic noticed that all 7 females in the audience
were draped around one guy in the crowd. He was dark haired, quasi
Asian looking, and wore an Opeth jacket. This was clearly the type of guy
they were looking for, and although it doesnt require overpowering
handsomeness to stand out at a black/folk metal show, they knew this was
it. KILL made the first move. He went up to the guy and said dude Opeth
fucking shreds. The stranger introduced himself. Hi my name is Angel. I
do agree that they in fact shred but I am also impressed by their melodic
sensibilities and the poignancy of their neo-goth lyricism. Sonic was like
yeah dude fucking Blackwater Park FIST. Angel nodded. Sonic replied
dude how do you get all of these chicks? Angel replied, through
strategy, cunning and talent. This doesnt happen overnight. I study the
Eastern arts of self-reliance. And Im also a chef. Sonic: dude youre a
chef? We eat Spaghetti-Os and steal stuff from the Waffle House dumpster
because were saving money because we have the best band ever.
Angel: Thats nice. The waffle house is ok as far as major southern chain
restaurants go, but their lack of unprocessed ingredients and the complete
dirth of range free, grass fed chickens gives me pause. KILL: Fist.
Angel: what? KILL: Dude if we pay you will you cook for us and sing for us
and help us score hot chicks? Angel: whats in it for me? Sonic: dude
dont you get sick of having to fight off all of these chicks? Pass some to us
and we will lighten your load. Also, METAL. Angel: your passion intrigues
me. Do you have an appreciation for black metal and underground folk?
KILL: What? (starts to say f*ck that faggy shit but Sonic shuts him up first).
Sonic: dude yeah I mean we play fist metal like Maiden first and foremost
but you can sing what you want dude. Johnny: awestruck, gives a
seemingly random comment: yeah man, but have you even heard of
BUDGIE? Angel: Did you say Budgie? Sonic: yeah we have Bandolier
memorized. Angel: Im in. (commands three of his groupies to blow KILL,
Sonic, and Johnny in the back). The greatest band in history is born.
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