PHOTOS AND SHIT

A FINAL WORD

Lets face the facts here. The Protocol's better times are behind. What can I say? The days of unemployment are no more. I've traded in the sweet San Antone suburbs for the hipster-infested, recyclable art-mecca, known as The Capital Of Tejas. So the 'spiration's been meek.

AN EXPLANATION

I sought refuge in the recently incarnated WEEKLY RAMBLE, but became distraught when Volume 2 was mysteriously deleted by an internet goblin. It REALLY GOT ME IN A FUNK.

In San Antonio, the closest grocery store to me was HEB PLUS - THE BEST.

The closest grocery store to my house now is Central Market - while, still a division of HEB, sells very expensive gouda and designer ice cream, with very little alternatives.

The gas stations up here sell hand-crafted, whole-wheat, vegan breakfast biscuits and kombucha tea.

I JUST WANT SOME GODDAMN GATORADE. MAYBE A SNICKERS.

So the posts have gotten dispersed between the pesky work hours, failed attempts at becoming an "Austin cyclist," and the general delusion of life on earth. Plus my gut's growing.

Oh yeah, and Los Spurs chomped the pavement.

Where do I go from here? The vast amount of Suburban Protocol fans are hungry, ready to slop down any piece of slick, semi-pro, nit-wit criticism I'm willing to spill. And believe me, the spillage was once mighty fine. But now has diminished into a pulp of gastric pus.

Yeah...... PUS. <------ GROSS.ORG.

I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore.

THE SOLUTION

Go to my twitter account and catch my lazy-ass rambles.

The Protocol blog may be utilized in the future as a resource for media postage, etc. But moreover, will serve as an archive for some of the greatest internet literature ever to be produced by a pasty, soft, white guy.

THIS IS ALL FOR YOU. THE FANS. YOU ARE THE BEST. GLORY TO THE HIGHEST.

NEVER, EVER, EVER FORGET....

HOUSTON: SUCKS. DALLAS: SUCKS.

POMPOUS BASTARDS UNITE!!!

GARRETT_T_CAPPS ON TWITTER

DIG IT AND GET IN IT

Volume 1

The posts haven't been flowing as well as they used to. The Protocol has taken a one way ticket to dung-city. DUNG. No need to remind me, but I believe I have found a solution. In a desperate effort to revive my blog-output, I will be featuring "The Weekly Ramble." So hold onto to your pants. IT'S GONNA BE ONE HELLUVA RIDE!!!!

While flipping hot dogs on a dreary Saturday morning in front of the bank (we were havin' a party - a financial bash), I was horrified to witness a woman in her 60's trip and fall onto the concrete parking lot. She was laying on her side and her accomplice did nothing but act like a looney tune. What a punk. Anyways, I ran over to her, reached out my hand to help her up, and she responded with a firm handshake. Then she got up by herself. Laying down and shaking hands. Relaxed Shakin. Someone had to give her a prize. She deserved one! So she received ONE BUN and ONE LUKE- WARM SEMI-BEEF STICK.

As a customer handed me their checking deposit, I placed it on the desk, and proceeded to search "Dinosaurs" on wikipedia. The facts of life. Good stuff. GIANT BEASTS.

Well, the Spurs failed. Born again, but not for long. Apparently, this treasured head piece didn't provide the good spirits needed for yet another miracle. Alotta REAL ball players signed this hat. Makes me long for the days when the San Antonio Spurs and Taco Cabana were nearly synonymous. FLAUTAMANIA.

Midwesterners truly believe in basketball. This is an interesting truth. I mean, I might have to move there. They have these wicked gas stations called "Quick Trip" that offer the highest quality of corner store products. Give it up. Tornadoes, Basketball, and Candy Bars.

If I could get my paws on some B.U.M. Equipment footwear or apparel, I would be SATISFIED. Just check it out for yourself. Quite a weathered company. Their website is LEGENDARY.

Throwin' two parties. Theme parties. Wrap your mind around these:

SODA & YODA

The Force + Caffeine Dreams. 100 PERCENT SUCCESS.

DINNER CRAMS

Everybody must show up with a nice entree such as a casserole, roast, rotisserie chicken, pasta, etc. After setting the table and getting the dinner ready, the members of the party will then proceed to the living room. There, we will watch The Simpsons on T.V. while eating chips and dips until everybody is disgustingly stuffed.

SUPPER. SPOILED!!!!

The first WEEKLY RAMBLE. Obviously, I've got a lot on my mind.

Oh yeah, in case you forgot, MAGIC JOHNSON CONQUERED AIDS HIV

Writer's Block

Been stormin' the dome for some good post material but have come up with nothing. Here's some completely unfinished jams i've thrown together.

3 songs by garrett37

The Road To Amarillo ROUGH by garrett37

Miracle In Alamo Town

Been a while since I posted last. Whatever. BUZZ OFF. Just dig on this...



Jesus H. Christ. The Spurs rule. MUEY BUENO.

Comatose Blues

Cooked & Crumbled

A rag-tag group of pesky suburban teens once plagued the Alamo city with anthems of gummy worms, dinosaurs, and wicked island-monsters. These teenage stucco-punks captivated relentless crowds of drunken high school nitwits who were primarily interested in goofball stage antics over the music itself.

Blues-ridden, Dynamite-spanked goof n' roll. Undisciplined mish-mash.

The Inspektah. Joe The Ocean (The Candyman). Dance Dance Princess. Mr. Concept.

The Boy Scout Cookies.

What was once an institution is no more, and has been for a good while. Crusty stages across Bexar county played host to morbid coffins, trash bazookas, plastic jungles, and snack food cannons. A social spectacle for it's place in time.

And what's left? The Music. The Jams. The Riffs.

As it was commonly forgotten, The Boy Scout Cookies were a musical group, not just a circus-like monstrosity. An album was created in the band's final days that never quite saw the light:  

Kakerlake Muerto (I Reek of Fun & The Lord).

The recording has it's moments as well as some chunks of muck.

To the point, The Boy Scout Cookies were absolutely asinine, anybody who ever liked them SUCKS, and the album is completely ridiculous.

But check it out....

Intro/Where The Wild Things Rock

Mystic River

Underground Railroad

Primordial Boogie Woogie

The Candyman (Secret Track)