Sell Your Soul, Sell A Car . . . Like Most Stars Today!

Sell Your Soul, Sell A Car by Justin Matthew Hoopes

If only we could sell ourselves for millions of dollars to the highest bidder!  This is what your average pop star must do; the bidders must be pretty high judging from who the stars are today.  An instrumental about it is in order: Here it is . . .  

Help Your Elf . . . It's the only way.

Help Your Elf by Justin Matthew Hoopes

When elves get crushed by life or gigantic cowboy boots, they might write an instrumental about it like this one . . .

Laddy Glue Gunk Recruits A Team of Ministers!

Laddy Glue-Gunk Recruits A Team of Ministers!
A short story by bitter and angry author Bernie N Helle
 In order to spread Laddy's Gospel, a chorus of tweens, teens, and mentally challenged adults were ordained by a professional marketing team and given rigid sermons to post all over internet message boards.  To honor those performers who dared to wear no pants, just like in the 1900s, 1910s, 1920s, 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s, these ministers without education indoctrinated themselves with Laddy's 99 cent self-helpless mind-controlling Drummed and Based mix tapes.

These unpaid proselytizers could blend into society effortlessly, having no priestly collar or uniform to wear other than their inner need to be controlled by a singing and dancing corporate tool.  Invisible until confronted with substantiated facts regarding their Mixed-Gendered-Messiah's mediocrity, they started to infect culture with their chorus of excrement.  Laddy directed her mind-slave-cult to obscure the fact that what heshe was doing was simply new soon to be old person's music reinterpreted for the brand obsessed.

Laddy Glue-Gunk one day decided that any society that did not agree with heshe's inner perception of what a "free world" was, should be destroyed.  Following the example of famed Fascist dictator's, Glue-Gunk directed its' followers to dispense with grammar rules and only use UPPER CASE, as Laddy thought the sheer size of the fonts would distract from the lack of critical thought displayed in her brainwashed Ministers' online sermons. 

"All pants must be destroyed and the difference between pornography and art must be further obscured!" heshe bellowed.  Laddy smiled at the thought of giving free lobotomies to her Ministers as further insurance that this "normal and bad" world should be eliminated.  After all, my followers are drawn in by every meaningless grunt and polyester fiber I display, why shouldn't they be into having their actual brains removed?  Glue Gunk breathed an orgasmic sigh, triggered by the thought of barbecuing and eating hershim's Ministers' souls, and then the rest of the world's, just like a injurious and insidious perversion of America's Globalization efforts.

TO BE CONTINUED . . . 

A large portion of Justin Matthew Hoopes is Irish, Scottish, and English.

Some of the Irish Surnames I've found I am descended from on my personal ancestral journey of discovery include O'Connor, McCarthy, McCarty, Cox, Carrell, Lancaster, Dungan, Dugan, Donnegan, Mac Donnagain, Corryel, Keirll, Forster, Netterville, St. Lawrence, Hollywood (don't laugh, it's true!) Hungerford, Whyte, and many more I imagine . . .

The quintessentially English and Scottish surnames include my own surname Hoopes, Clarke, Travers, Weaver, Latham, Freeborn, Holbrook, Burnsworth, Dillworth, Grant, Stainhouse, Bruce, Thayer, Taylor, Mackins, Harman, King, Bane, Williamson, Cock (ha ha ha), Worrilow, Perkes, Grant, Harrison, Greasley, Worrilowe, Mercer, Scutt, Carter, Chapman and more. . .

On the Welsh side, I've found I'm descended from the following surnames: Foulke (Samuel Foulke disowned by the Quakers for being sympathetic to the American Revolutionary War), Hugh, Lloyd, Williams, Hughes, Evans, Reynolds, Griffith, David, Vychan, Rhys, Cadwallader, and more.    

I am a small person, descended from many families bearing the "small dark" (dark Irish and dark Welsh folk) look, yet I've taken on Swedish (Gustavssen/Claasen/Freeburg) facial features, which I imagine blends into the Viking invader blood that found its way into England.  Also, my German features blend into the Saxon genetics of England.  Complicating this is my connection to Spain, Portugal, and the Robertians.  Italian and Greek also?  Frankish for sure.  I find this muddle of genetic influences to be worthy of traveling through due to the amazing amount of historical data personally relevant to me at the moment.  How does it all add up to me?  That is the million dollar question.

Mackins From Scotland To Ireland To Deal, Lower Walmer, Kent To San Francisco To Eureka, CA

The Hoopes family brand of Mackins stem from a Scottish Presbyterian who was part of the constabulary in Northern Ireland. Evidently he married into the Irish society as there are numerous people with that surname there. So, from Northern Ireland to Kent where our earliest ancestor James Mackins settled and had a son named Walter Chapman Mackins who in turn had my Great-Grandfather Earnest S. Mackins and my Great Uncle Urban District Mackins! This information is courtesy of a cousin named James T Mackins, an actual distant relative of ours who still resides in the UK.

1. Chris T. Mackins states: “Sandy Mackins, Australia, comes from Mackins in Northern Ireland. The fact that her Grandfather was in the police firmly locates a Mackins as Ulster Protestant. This would indicate that Mackins went TO Ireland either from England or Scotland. Most immigrants to Northern Ireland went from around 1600 onward with a peak at the end of the 1600's with the Scottish clearances (or plantations if you prefer). The Mack of Mackins would favour the idea that we may come from the scottish immigrants but not necessarily I guess. Someone may have to do some really hard work to sort out what happened that far back.”
   
   “Sandy's earliest know ancestor was in Fermanagh in the early 1800's at the time the Kent Mackins were in Deal and Walmer.

From The Sun To You: Art of Justin Matthew Hoopes

When It Comes To Andy . . . A Short Story

When It Comes To Andy . . . By Bernie N'Helle

Andy woke up to find himself obsessed with pop culture. He would spend all day and all night trying to connect himself with it. He had no idea of what talents he had. He felt that the only talent worth acknowledging makes its' home only on major labels or his glowing plastic tele-view device.

When it came to women, he put his baseball cap on backwards and prepared to turn into a sex crazed gorilla. Letting one side be lost to the other side of his mind, he was taken in by the billionaire supported pseudo revolutionary dance music on offer. It seemed to him the easy way out, as he already could not conceive of an individual direction to travel himself. On offer not only was music, but a culture built upon a two-dimensional brand. Being two-dimensional himself, Andy took pleasure in mimicking the dancing creatures, using every opportunity to dry hump those he did or did not know.

When it came to sex, his favorite artist, Laddy Glue Gun, a female impersonator from Gwynedd Wales, called every shot. Whether it was poking the anonymous sex target in the face or losing your head heart or sanity on the dance floor, Andy was taught step-by-step how to integrate into the pseudo culture of brand oriented patterns. It comforted him as he found whatever hole he could stuff with whatever type of mind-controlling Disco Sticking device. Mostly he wanted fill the mouth hole so he wouldn't have to listen to what the other gender had to say. He was drunk and entitled; ordained by Mother Munster, an obscure character from a canceled TV show.

When it came to children, Andy promptly donned a wig and moved away to avoid paying for his mistakes. Plus, he had his custom thought stopping brain programming rhythm music for teens to drown his rational thoughts in so he could go back thinking he was entitled to frame the entire world with his personal feelings. When Andy was pursued for child support, he donned the costume of an Italian-American fifties street thug with slicked back hair and fell off of a piano.

When it came to diseases, Andy was rife with them. His favorite song, “Just Prance,” informed him that he should throw all brain power and caution to the wind. When he contracted an especially vicious strain of virulent gonorrhea he took it as a sign to start waving glow sticks, taking ecstasy, and posting the same message on YouTube over and over.

One day, Andy died. It didn't matter because he was a robot.

THE END

Some Of The World Seems To Be Angry . . .

The following is an angry bitter man's diatribe against Ravers. I did not write it.



By Bernie N'Helle - Chief Editor for Believe It Or Not, Or Better Yet Don't Read It magazine

Please take the time to observe those who follow the commands of the Dirt Jerky's command to dance and rape at will. I know nothing I say will stop the delusional gyration and hate of anything that isn’t “rave-like,” but I hope that what I say reaches someone out there and causes them to at least be more understanding of the danger to our already wounded society and less tolerant to people who choose to do stupid sheep-like things that accomplish nothing together.

Our emotional state of choice is Idiocy. Our nourishment of choice is devoid of substance. Our addiction of choice is group slavery and fallacy. Our religion of choice is whatever we feel like at the moment. Our currency of choice is disease and bodily fluids. Our politics of choice is ignorance. Our society of choice is utopian though it doesn't really exist and is pointless.
You WILL hate us. You WILL dismiss us. You don't misunderstand our dependence on what does not exist. You may however be aware of their existence. We can only hope you care to judge us, because we judge you by bombarding your culture with Drummed and Based Disco Sticking Mind Control Music. We are mind criminals. We are disillusioned, given that we waste time in an alternate dance universe. We are drug addicts. We are naive children. We are one massive, global, scam that transcends man-made law, physical geography, and time itself. We are The Massive Cultural Bear Trap. One Massive Trap for the easily controlled.

We were first drawn by the repetitive and irritating sound. From far away, the thunderous, muffled, echoing beat was comparable to a madman's brain screaming to abort a child in her womb of concrete, steel, and electrical wiring. We were drawn back into this womb, and there, in the heat, dampness, and darkness of it, we came to accept that we are all trapped and that we enjoy being trapped until we die. We came to accept that we are all not equal (we are better because we flail around to Ape Sex Disco Music; it's so Cosmic bro). Not only to the darkness, and to ourselves, but to the very music slamming into us and destroying our souls: we are not all equal; not since Rave music have we found a more effective way other than politics to gather a huge number of people and accomplish nothing. And somewhere around 35Hz we could feel the hand of God at our backs, pushing us forward into Hell away from His glorious face, pushing us to push ourselves to strengthen our minds, our bodies, and our spirits for we are all going to Beelzebub's Resort in the ground. Pushing us to turn to the person beside us to join hands and rape them repeatedly by sharing the uncontrollable demon brain replacement we felt from creating this magical portal to The Prince Of Darkness, for one evening, throwing us into the horrors, atrocities, and pollution of his fiery Sanctuary of Audio Pain. It is in that very instant, with these very realizations that each of was truly replaced by a Rave Alien who lives inside and dictates every step. We continue to pack our bodies into clubs, or warehouses, or buildings you’ve abandoned and left for naught, like corpses prepared to be preached to by a lame string of samey generic Dirt Jerkys. Strong, throbbing, vibrant life in it’s purest, most intense, most hedonistic form is found somewhere else in a peaceful place that is emptied of remote controlled ur-humans.

In these makeshift spaces, we seek to shed ourselves of the burden of brain power in order to blame society for their inability to create a society we were too lazy to create ourselves. We seek to relinquish our common sense, and attach ourselves to the shackles and restraints we've put on each other for the sake of keeping our little cult in line. We seek to re-write the programming that we FEEL you have tried to indoctrinate us with, but we don't have the slightest idea how to do it; we can't even prove the conspiracies are true. Programming that tells us to hate Kenny G, that tells us to judge Judy, that tells us to stuff ourselves into the nearest and most convenient pigeon/spider hole possible, if misinterpreted by a Rave Cult Worshipper. Programming that even tells us to climb ladders for you, jump through hoops, and run through mazes and on hamster wheels would be good since we can only understand explicit commands due to the fact that we have large holes in our brains from all the Ecstacy. Programming that tells us to eat shiny silver spoons and that Presbyterians are trying to feed us with rancid herring, instead of nourish ourselves with packages of delicious cement. Programming that tells us to close our minds, instead of open them is present at every single Rave we participate in.

Until the sun rises to burn our eyes by staring directly into it and blaming society for its' failure to stop our vacant stares, we dance fiercely with our brothers and sisters in celebration of not being an individual, of having no culture, and none of the values we claim to believe in: Peace, Love, Freedom, Tolerance, Unity, Harmony, Expression, Responsibility and Respect. All of these virtues can be found conveniently miles away from any Rave at an individualist's house who refuses to participate in your pathetic “dancing.”

Our weapon of choice is ignorance. Our mantra of choice is information that refers to nothing but itself. Our crime of choice is making up whatever empty moral laws we feel you need to put you in place to stop you from celebrating your existence. But know that while you may shut down any given party, on any given night, in any given city, in any given country or continent on this beautiful planet, you can bet the population will be glad to be rid of these pesky Ravers. You don’t have access to that switch that turns your brain off, no matter what you may think, we stop all thought and progress. The “music” unfortunately will never stop. The heartbeat will never fade, until Ravers are educated on how little we know about music and its usefulness to society. The party will never end, because we are too stupid and brainwashed to stop; I buy into a system, just like those I hate. I am a raver, and I think I'm just great.

My French Canadian Ancestry . . . As far back as I can find . . .

Gravity Exists: An Intriguing Article By The Greatest Writer Ever! Justin Matthew Hoopes.

 It has been common knowledge among college professors, gardeners, exotic dancers, and the like, that gravity does exist.  However, there are a few that still believe that gravity does not exist.  I'm talking about your Andy Warhols, the members of Limpbisquick, Cindy Crawfords, and even our own heaven sent saviour Lady Goo Gah.  Astronauts too are rumoured to deny the existence of gravity, possibly because those puffy white snow suits they wear have cut off all oxygen to their brains.  Alas, gravity is real and here for an unlimited time, unless the Earth crashes into the sun or teabagging your neighbour in public becomes legal.

Today, I am going to talk about magically whimsical world of gravity, provide proofs that it does exist, and EXPOSE some of the wackiness behind the ideas of pro-anti-real-gravity extremists.  I have had EXTENSIVE experience in the area of gravity ever since I've noticed that every female I have ever met has fallen hopelessly in love with me.  Note the key word "fallen" which does NOT leave room for the absence of gravity.  If gravity did not exist, then a more common phrase would probably be, "every female I've ever met has FLOATED hopelessly in love with me."  Pure nonsense, as I'm sure any female who has watched endless episodes of Desperate Housewives on a loop will tell you!

Now we reflect upon the history of gravity:
Back before the dawn of time, God, in His infinitely all-knowing way, decided that His prize creation, Earth, would look silly if all its' inhabitants, bread machines included, were floating in mid-air.  Scientists debate whether this was on the fifth or sixth day of creation.  In fact the scientific schism became so agitated that in 1952 an angry group of Pro-Gravity zealots invaded the offices of No Gravity Exists Corps and demonstrated through fists the effectiveness of a good dose of gravity.  Luckily the truth of the Bible defeated these irrational non-believers.  According the the Bible, God, did not see any reason to include the knowledge of gravity in His infamous apples of knowledge; only the knowledge that humans were inherently nude,which any self respecting human will tell you they are thankful for.  Anyhow, God left the task to a certain Englishman named Isaac Newton to tell the world in a rather bland British way that gravity did exist.  God cleverly and uncannily referenced His often retold "tree of knowledge" yarn by dropping an apple on Newton who was at the time attempting to invent a slightly more understandable English accent.  This was a losing cause as any American will tell you and GOD realized this.

Armed with the notion that an apple had hit him in the head, Newton Immediately wondered why an apple had hit him on his thick English skull.  What was the force behind the apple that caused it to fall, he wondered?  Newton immediately ruled out capitalism and the dicey nature of stock markets and took the liberty of blamin gravity.  The world has been a heavier place since, man.

Shall we discuss proofs? Yes, let's.
Some of you readers might still be skeptical of this new fangled idea of gravity.  I will demonstrate to you, proving unfailingly that gravity DOES EXIST.  First, I will simply ask you why basketball star LeBron James does not simply keep going up after his leap to dunk the basketball, smashing his dome through seven layers of concrete ceiling, going up further, being burned to a crisp by the upper atmosphere, and finally coming to rest upon the forest floor providing important nutrients to feed the delicate ecosystem? The answer?  Gravity my fine looking readers!  This is what enables him to make the shot and win the game, or, injure his rapidly aging body and propel him into a well deserved early retirement.  I would stop at this example usually, but I am sure that you would like more proof!  And more proof I have!

Another proof that there is a force that makes objects in mid-air fall is Oprah Winfrey.  She is force enough to make anyone's object in mid-air fall, if you catch my drift.  Or how about this?  If did not indeed exist, I could make myself float in mid-air.  After several major internal injuries I decided I had proved the aforementioned point.

In a world so uneducated by writer Justin Matthew Hoopes, through the ages, certain groups that have a grudge against gravity have tried to negate its' influence in our lives by denying it exists at all.  Here are a few examples:

1. Marijuana Users:  How many times have you heard the senseless and annoying phrase, "let's get high?"  Proponents of this anti-gravity extremist group or "gravi-tear-or-wrists" as fondly refer to them, believe that by simply decapitating an innocent and harmless plant, smoking the most odoriferous part, and drumming in an indeterminate time signature they can defy the laws of nature by levitating.  This is very much akin to the little three year old child who covers his eyes and believes he is invisible to you because he can't see you.  Utter hogwash.  It should also be pointed out that smoking this earthy substance causes you to repeat endlessly child-like phrases such as: "420 man!" or "whoa" or "dude, I am so high."  Smoking the "green" also can cause you to believe that you are an environmentalist and have incredible tastes in music.  In reality, you drive a VW bus, one of the most polluting and inefficient vehicles ever made by Hitler and traverse the USA going to see Widespread Panic shows.  Don't ever listen to anything these folks have to say on the subject of gravity.  
2. Warner Brothers Cartoons: One of the worst offenders in the "gravity does not exist department" has complete access to your children and their tender minds.  Just one look at a typical Roadrunner cartoon says it all.  Wile E. Coyote, obviously the educated gravity believing portion of our society chases after the non-believing Roadrunner, the uneducated portion of our society that doesn't believe in gravity.  This cartoon's sole message is that if you believe in gravity, you will fall of cliffs, get smashed by anvils, get blown up, and generally have no luck catching Roadrunners to feast upon.  What kind of a message is tat to give to kids?  Parents:  Tell your kids about gravity and its' existence before your child tries to walk on the invisible bridge of non-gravity and gets an anvil dropped on their head.

In closing, I would like to say that I have presented you with indisputable proof that gravity does indeed exist, the weak arguments against it, and a brief history of it.  We need to keep spreading the word about gravity and its' existence.  Tell David Blaine to stop levitating, it's just not possible.  Furthermore, tell the poor who wait for food aid, stop looking up directly under those relief boxes being dropped from planes, they are not floating in mid-air, they will crush you forever.  Thank you.

Blame

Blame by Justin Matthew Hoopes

Passive Regressive

Passive Regressive by Justin Matthew Hoopes

Shuffle Off

Shuffle Off by Justin Matthew Hoopes

Gimme Five

Gimme Five by Justin Matthew Hoopes

The Battle

The Battle by Justin Matthew Hoopes

Tongue Doth Tie

Tongue Doth Tie by Justin Matthew Hoopes

White Trash Country Club Opening For David Allan Coe @ Mateel Justin Matthew Hoopes On Drums!

JUSTIN MATTHEW HOOPES' MUSICAL HISTORY

JUSTIN MATTHEW HOOPES' MUSICAL HISTORY

Justin Matthew Hoopes' musical career started within the womb somewhere within the vicinity of the year 1981. On July 14, 1981 he was born into Arcata, CA. He was immediately baptized with alarming speed at the Lutheran Church of Arcata. His Uncles Tim and Jon Claasen were the sponsors; funnily enough, these great individuals helped Justin Matthew Hoopes get an idea of what he wanted to do with his life. Jon played the drums, while Tim played bass among other things. They gave Justin Matthew Hoopes his first real musical education. The second primary source for his musical inspiration came from his parents' Bill and Chris's record collection. Some of the records included The Beatles, James Taylor, Carol King, Mamas and The Papas, Rare Earth, Jefferson Airplane, Hot Tuna, Stevie Wonder, Neil Young, Pat Metheny, and It's A Beautiful Day. On long road trips at around age four or five, Justin's mother began playing him Beatles cassettes. Justin Matthew Hoopes was enthralled by all of the instruments, but chiefly interested in the drumming of Ringo Starr. This kicked off the idea that Justin Matthew Hoopes would begin to play music.

Piano lessons were taken, but the more rock and roll Justin played, the less exciting the piano seemed. Content to keep his experiences with the piano and tenor saxophone in his back pocket, Justin decided to pursue the drums with an unhealthy passion. A number of bands were made and dissolved; the first of these was with world renowned songwriter Tapani Paul Sernesky, who now plays in a band called Raider. His father, Danny Sernesky, connected Justin and Tapani, thus, Marshall Law was formed in 1992 at age ten. With bassist Tim Claasen they played at a number of school events and a few benefits. In 1995, Tapani Paul Sernesky moved to Canada. Justin Matthew Hoopes had to figure out something new musically to do.

One avenue that was formed was through Justin's brother Geoffrey Hoopes who had a friend who was into Van Halen named Aaron W. Dean. Through a process of jamming, the concept of Sidewynder was initiated with the help of rhythm guitarist Brian Baty. This grouping eventually came to include Nick Lende on bass and keyboards, Doug Saucedo on bass, Nathaniel Elliott on Lead Guitar, and Will Stephens on Bass. The final realization of these jams and personnel passing in and out was Force Of Nature, a punk-metal band with spoken word vocals by Aaron W. Dean. They played at the 2000 Summerfest put on by Diamondback Productions and were given a helping hand by Ole Persson, who was a friend of Kid Rock. When Kid Rock visited Humboldt, they were given a chance to perform a song with him. They played “Cowboy” the one with the Metallica riff. Justin Matthew Hoopes transcribed the entire drum part. Other notable Force Of Nature performances were at the now defunct Club West opening for the Stephen Pearcy Band and doing Octoberfest from which a Live Record was released. It is no longer available, though there are future plans to do so.

The second avenue, a shorter one, involved teaming up with Eric Langley and a fellow named Josh on bass to form the group Wombat Fury. This band coincided closely with and followed the colorful Grunge era. My involvement ended when the leader hit me due to not liking my style of drumming.

The third avenue was a Junior High School project called Butterfly Soup with Nick Lende on Guitar and Gordon Eitzen on bass. A number of tape EP 's were made and distributed but obviously no success was to be had except in our minds. Gordon decided he did not want to play anymore so Tim Claasen filled the opening, followed by Jeremy Lafayette on bass. In 1997 this particular project folded.

The fourth avenue involved a failed attempt to front a band called Run Riot. This included Cary Ozanian on drums and Nick Lende on Bass. Based on Justin Matthew Hoopes' hype and manipulation, he conned brilliant Panache Magazine founder Michelle Cable into printing an article about a band that hadn't even done a gig. It was a musical joke, but fun nonetheless. Later, under a pseudonym, he wrote a critical article in Panache that alienated his friends.

The fifth avenue involved a Nick Lende composed solo album done at what is now considered to be Livella Studios; however, then it was considered as part of Two Street Music. William Maxwell was the engineer. Justin Matthew Hoopes played drums on this.

The sixth avenue involved Eureka High School Jazz B and Jazz Ensembles. In 2000, The Jazz Ensemble released a CD entitled Keep On Keepin' On. On this CD were a couple of tunes by the Perpetual Motion Jazz Combo whose members included Kurt Anderson, Will Stephens, Nick Lende, and Easton Stuard. In this group was another notable percussionist who is now nationally known: Cary Ozanian who then played the vibes. Kristen Rasmussen was another notable, not only for being a great bassist, but a friendly individual. This group performed with Big Bad Voodoo Daddy as well as with trumpet player and composer Ingrid Jensen.

The seventh avenue involved the Eureka High Jazz Singing group Limited Edition, led by Mark Russell (not the PBS guy). This group took Justin Matthew Hoopes as drummer to a number of performances. Most notably this grouping included the now world famous singer and songwriter Sara Bareilles.

While in high school, Justin Matthew Hoopes had a chance to play with the famous Mike LaBolle. This was a beneficial experience as LaBolle showed Hoopes how to hold his sticks correctly and changed the course of his drumming forever.

After leaving Force Of Nature in 2004, Justin Matthew Hoopes did a lot of different gigs with a lot of different people. He has played with the following groups and people (please note, some are one-off gigs): David Scott Yates, Ripple Effect, Tore Up, Kulica, The Generators, Miles Ahead, Vibe Tribe, Ground Control, Mobile Chiefing Unit, Dave Wilson, David Perrier, Dogbone, Arcata Interfaith Gospel Choir, Shao Wei Wu, Mitch Steffen, Sudzy, The New Originals, Jared J. Fisher, Sara Bareilles, Kid Rock, White Trash Country Club, Jim Lahman, John David Young Trio (4^th person), Ruben Diaz, Dale Cash, Dan Perez, Madi Simmons, Orjazzmic, Perpetual Motion, Jake Blackshear, Lance Romance, North 101, Tree, Steen Christensen, Jon Claasen, Tim Claasen, John King, Easton Stuard, Mason Matteoli, Don Berry, Rick DeVol, Wes Anderson, Chris Thompson, Greg Moore, Merv George, Les Craig, Michael Padget, Astrid Dobo, Ryan Jones, Markus Messina, Michael Beck, Jason Miller, Guitarist from Moe, the keyboardist from Iron Butterfly, Derek Glavich, among others.

Favorite Drummers are as follows: Bill Bruford, Willie Wilcox, Keith Moon, John Bonham, Jon Claasen, Tim Claasen, Madi Simmons, Mike La Bolle, Danny Montgomery, Chad Wackerman, Vinnie Colaiuta, Terry Bozzio, Neil Peart, Virgil Donati, Van Romayne, Rod Morgenstein, Mike Portnoy, Martin Deller, Marco Minneman, Carl King, Ozric Tentacles, Chester Thompson, Phil Collins, Simon Phillips, Ringo Starr, Pat Mastelotto, Jon Hiseman, Aynsley Dunbar, Billy Cobham, Joe Travers, Prairie Prince, among many others . . .

Humour From The 1840s!

You Get It Out, Then You Confront.

Sometimes You Should Put Your Mental Images To Paper; This is a good type of disturbing experience.

Top Ten New Game Shows Coming To The US

10. Bowling For Midgets

09. You Bet Your Lungs

08. Drug Connection with Robert Downey, Jr.

07. Smile, You've Got Herpes!

06. Name That Illegal Firearm

05. Russian Roulette Wheel Of Fortune

04. Strip Solitaire

03. Javelin Throwing For Dollars . . . And Blood!

02. Who Wants To Be An Amputee?!

01. Full Contact Total-Darkness Indoor Sexual-Assault-Football!

It could happen people; keep watching the skies, get crushed by an American Hummer!

Article by Newton, Novak, Justin Matthew Hoopes, and Christiensen 2000

Tongue Doth Tie

Blame Music Video Justin Matthew Hoopes

Pray The Lord My Tongue Doth Tie: A Musical Representation

I like talking, but I dislike talking.  I hit part of the truth, but can't hit all truth at once.  I don't know that anyone can.  This tune is based on the idea of hoping you won't say something stupid that will lead to your ultimate destruction.  Low-Fi cassette, but still worth a listen or three.  Redwood Trees, I present to you, "My Tongue Doth Tie."

http://www.mediafire.com/?qltjovezh70784a

Passive Regressive: A State of Mind and A Song

Also Low-Fi, this composition is short and to the point.  Pretty clean too.  Should be easy to teach to others.  Ladies and Germs: "Passive Regressive"

http://www.mediafire.com/?3335xo79pyp0blb

A Little Heavier, A Little Lower Fidelity

The following is an older track done on a four-track cassette recorder. Good demo. Someday I shall teach it to a group of musicians. For now, I present myself presenting myself. This one includes the patented Justin Matthew Hoopes, "Make Your Mistakes Your Music," method; this time it didn't work. Ladies, Gentlemen, and Lady Ga Goo, here is my composition: The Battle. Free for your downloading pleasures.


http://www.mediafire.com/?p5mxpg6nopllp8v

My Musick Reaches Out To You; Really, I'm Serious This Time?

I am fascinated by writing little black notes into a computer via MIDI programming. This one is primitive, given that I took zero time to adjust any velocities. In that sense, it is unique because no professional MIDI programmer would leave that alone. I like to hear things done the wrong way, so perhaps that is why this ditty is appealing to me. From head to MIDI; no human instrument manipulation.

Download from here:

http://www.mediafire.com/file/3are9kxetnjcmr7/Gimme%20Five%202.wav

New Musick For Youse

Welcome to the completely software generated song, "Shuffle Off." Ableton Live Lite was utilized. I have avoided "electronic" music for a while because I did not know much about it. Since I let in Ozric Tentacles, my mind has opened. I don't plan to give up on real organic instruments, I just think this is a nice option. Enjoy.


http://www.mediafire.com/file/bf6nzpwcl252nj9/Shuffle%20Off.wav

New Music To Come!

My computer circuits are busy trying to compensate for the latency of my many delayed projects. I am coming closer than ever to creating something akin to an "album." What will it be? A trip inside my self-consciousness that will tear apart any previous musical identity that I had before; A refreshing change to be sure. Until then, I encourage you to laugh at this ingenious Tim and Eric creation (I have nothing whatsoever to do with it, I just really love their show).

You Tubery

I am mostly a drummer, as that skill nets the most amount of the piles of money I receive as a CREATIVE GENIUS.  Here are a couple of brilliant films by Chad Johnson, one of my favorite songwriters of all recorded history that involve ME (the Great I am Not).  Props to him, as you probably knows he flexes his creative muscles through TV and other media: He deserves your business!


http://youtu.be/I1JQrN3Mj8Y

http://youtu.be/j-DgP7NJ1uY

OR just watch these:

My Breathtakingly AWESOME !!!!!MUSICCCCCK!!!!!!! Ha ha.

http://www.mediafire.com/?odbq597jakw2wa0

The magical link is to an audio kingdom of low-fidelity creative meadow-land Justin Matthew Hoopes currently rules over.  A song.  All Fade Away.  I wrote this and played Drums, Keys, Guitar, and Synthesizer Bass.  It does not sound like I want it to, but is effective as a start to a demonstration of my AMAZING (All Rights to AMAZING in fact belong to Justin Matthew Hoopes) capacities as a composer and musician.  Remember, this is just a test . . .  More to come.  You win a reward in Heaven (wherever that my be for you) if you can decode the echo-laden indiscernible LYRICS which hold WORDS GUARANTEED TO COME FROM MY BRAINS. TM

No Reason To Blog or Not; I Choose To Blog.

• Given that this blog will probably only be searched and thought about myself, the possibility of someone stumbling across it is fascinating.  My ego that you think you can see through this blog is merely a simulation and not the whole of Justin Matthew Hoopes.  So why not be honest?  There is no movement to form and no greater truth that I have to offer; so why blog?  As a human full of primitive cave man intentions, I must too write on the walls of a cave to paint a picture that will ultimately disappear if left unpainted.  So, when I have time, I will write about my musical doings in the wonderful dream we call the US.  Music keeps my life livable; why can't I do more with it and make it as a "product"?  I will explore this resistance, never will come to an answer, but I will express the reality of the search.  

So God bless you if you get something out of these lines of text.  If anything, keep searching.