Fear Factory: The Industrialist - 1/10

Candlelight records (2012)

The Cockroach Capitalist and You Gotta Do What You Gotta Do to Avoid Working at a Day Job

[An exercise in speculative hypotheticals]

Burton: OK, I’ll come over and talk to you.

Dino: Yeah, but bring some pizza, please. I’m starving and the toilet is overflowing, so bring a plunger.

Burton: Alright.

Burton: I heard that some bands are firing everybody so they don’t have to share any of the money. I think if it’s you and me, we can share the money just between the two of us and maybe you can have more pizza.

Dino: Great idea! More pizza and hamburgers for me! Do you think I’m getting too fat?

Burton: No, people like you because you are fat, Dino. Here, eat some pizza.

Dino: Wait, but what about the drums and bass and stuff?

Burton: Drum machines and studio technology, my pizza-loving friend!! Let’s use a drum machine and have friends help us layer the living daylights out of the next album.

Dino: (stuffing his face) Cool. What do you think I should do with my guitar parts?

Burton: Forget it, play a chugga-chugga riff, like you do when you play with one hand and eat pizza with the other. Then, we will loop that riff and add some machine-robot sounds for “atmosphere”. People will say it’s “genius”!

Dino: Ha ha ha! You’re right! I like looping, drum machines, studio tricks and pizza, especially pizza.

Burton: Well, pizza lover, let’s just say that you are not known for being a gifted guitar player.

Dino: (putting french fries and cookies on his pizza) What about your vocals?

Burton: Ah, whatever. Auto tune everything. Just bark like a dog and then scream and let our friends edit this stuff with their computers and add layers to make it sound robotic and let’s leave it at that.

Dino: (licking some cheese that fell on the floor) Yup, anything that we can use as an excuse to tour! Who should we hire for drums and bass?

Burton: Don’t worry about it. Let’s find a couple of desperate suckers who will be fooled into thinking they will make good money as hired hands. Just don’t tell them anything. We’ll fire them at the end of the tour.

Dino: (putting some pasta and hot sauce on his pizza) OK, I like the plan. Let’s call the album “The Industrialist” and let’s use drum machines and let’s program the hell out it in the studio. I will chugga-chugga with my guitar and you scream and I think that will be enough.

Burton: Yup, yup. Nobody pays attention anyway. It’s all just drunk Pantera and Soulfly fans at the shows. I just need to remember to tell them that they are the best fans in the world, that they rule, tell them to move, to mosh and tell them to keep drinking and eating pizza and we’ll be alright.

Dino: (putting jalapeños, pickles, refried beans, rice, chicken wings, pineapple, bacon, some dog food and tuna on his pizza) Awesome plan! I like it! I like it more than this pizza!! No wait, that’s not true, man.

Burton: OK, Dino, you look tired. Go to sleep, have some pizza and we’ll go loop some guitar chugga-chugga tomorrow.

Dino: Ah, ok, I think that if we wor…(snoring. fell asleep with a pizza slice on this mouth).

The End.