If you are a registered user, you can download several Goat Ropin’ Bastards songs at the Downloads page.
These songs are free for noncommercial use and all copyrights are retained. We will never sell or release any registration information. We won’t bother you by email very often either, so don’t worry about us junking up your inbox.
Do you remember Wilapalooza? Were you there? Most of us were. It kicked ass.
It ran for 11 years straight. It started out as an evening party with a few bands and turned into a 12 hour show attended by thousands of people in good ol’ Perry County, Pennsylvania.
I turned 21 during the peak of the Wilapoolza run. You could BYOB and camp there, so it was one of those rare events where you could fully enjoy yourself at a party and crash out in the comfort of your own sleeping bag.
Once again, it was completely kickass and it looks like it’s going to happen again.
http://facebook.com/wilapalooza - friend that shit!
Got two shows nexth month. They’re on the shows page.
We haven’t done a damn thing since Thanksgiving.
Why? Because we felt like it! Eatin’ turkey, like the internet, is serious business. We’ll fire up the machine a week or two into next month and see what happens.
In the meantime, enjoy our hidden press page: http://www.goatropinbastards.com/?page_id=147
Dutch Country can be so wierd…
For reasons I won’t get into, I had to go somewhere in Lancaster County today. On the way there, almost immediately after getting on the highway, some little sports coupe pulls into the lane next to me and honks the horn, so I glance over real quick just to see what’s wrong. I look over and a grey-haired guy with a shirt in tie on, smiles, waves, then points down – at some lady in a power suit giving him road head. Weird. I speed up. Then the guy honks the horn, I glance over, he does the “disco gun” hand guesture (while still getting road head), and guns it. That car definitely did not have a governor on it. Dude was gone.
Five minutes later, traffic slows to a stop. Another five minutes, and traffic starts moving. Ten more minutes of creep and crawl, then I see the accident. Mr. Disco-Gun, the King of High Speed Road Head, rearended a Ford Ranger. Sure hope nobody was hurt – or amputated. I couldn’t tell.
I decided that I was going to go a little more backroads style to get to my destination. It stayed weird. I passed an Amish girl in full Amish garb using a brand new, gasoline powered weed-whacker with safety glasses and over ear hearing protection. A mile or two later, I passed a bunch of amish kids waiting for something with matching Igloo lunch boxes. When did the Amish get so into plastics, gasoline engines, and safety gear? When I was a kid, they used super old school everything – even lunchboxes.
I also passed five hitch hikers that were dressed in the “Juggalo” style over the course of my trip. The one switched from thumb up to middle finger when she realized I wasn’t slowing down to pick her up. I guess there must be an Insane Clown Posse show somewhere.
Weird.
-Junior
This week kicks off the end of our summer quasi-vacation.
We’re doing a BYOB show at the Boondocks Club this Saturday, a show next Friday at Johnny Joe’s, looks like we’re going to be on another bill the weekend after that, then a pigroast, then a private party, then another show that’s almost finalized.
And, we’ve already got inquiries for October! So if we weren’t doin enough shows for you, it looks like that won’t be a problem in the future.
The show this week is going to be a little weird – we’re playing in the middle of a folk show. I think we might be the only act that has drums or electric instruments.
Looking forward to unleashing the spotlights and the trucker mic. However, since it’s all ages, I’m going to try to do this profanity free. It’s going to be a little tricky, but we were able to pull that off about a year ago at the Jim Sufrin Benefit concert – well, almost. I did say “fuck” once and couldn’t think of a word to say instead of “tits”, so I just mimed like I was squeezin a pair of them. I did lose a bet with one of our buddies that I couldn’t pull it off, but it wasn’t the massive fail we thought it was going to be.
We’re usually not big on controlling anything we say, but we try to do one show a year that the under 21 crowd can go to…
Anyway, see you at one of these shows…
-jr
So, it’s been over a month since the last post – not a whole lot happened. We usually slow down in the summer because the whole damn scene slows down. Seriously, do you want to hear us play songs about blowjobs, booze, swingers, trains, cars, tractors, boobjobs, 3 inch mags, and cheetos at a bar when you could be falling over drunk next to a campfire at your buddy’s house? Our low-tech experiments say no, so we slack off an reset.
This twitter shit is great, it appeals to my ADHD and verbal diarhea. You can spout off as much silly shit as you want and it doesn’t annoy people as much as going bat shit on facebook or myspace. But it’s made the blogging suffere because I just end up tweeting abunch and being done for the day.
We have two shows so far next month, ana all-age, dry show at the Boondocks Club in York Haven and a regular bar show at Johnny Joes in Mechanicsburg, click the “Shows” button to see more details
The “Sweatin’ to the Profanity” series is going to be done. It’s not that I gave up on it or anything, it”s just annoying. who wants to hear about some fat ass eating vegetables instead of infallible fortune cookies and stuff like that?
Booking has picked up, so we should be back in the PeCo groove in no time.
Tell yer damn friends!!!
If you don’t get the title of the blog post, this is for you:
I watch one NASCAR race every year or so – I used to watch it a lot when I was a kid. You know, back when guys would get all hogged up at the bar on Saturday Night, drive 500 miles high-speed bumper car style, and then try not to let their beer gut slow them down crawling out of it on fire. Back when Richard Petty would drive super high on the track and somehow win now and again.
I can’t follow it now – it got all high-tech, politically correct, and risk averse. “Let’s have a conference call about a meeting about a conference call to maybe decide how we’re going to configure the right-rear-coil-spring four months from now at Talladega.
Fuck that noise! I wanna go fast!
However, Shitty watches virtually every damn race.
Would you like Shitty to do a NASCAR blog?
Drop a comment either way!
This blog brought to you by Maypax. The Official Tampon of NASCAR. When you’re havin’ lady troubles, run with the PAX!!!
Don’t know what was wrong with them, but Capser fixed the shit.
If you get an account on the website, you can not only download the songs off the demo, but you can also comment on the blogs.
More cool website shit is currently in the brainstorming phase!
Here you go:
So, there’s supposed to be a rapture tomorrow according to some fuckin’ whack job.
For all of you that really believe this shit, I have your definitive proof that he’s wrong again:
How could great acts of kindness befall me in the coming months if there are no coming months? Also, my lucky numbers are all greater than the date of the Rapture, so why would the cookie tell me to look forward to lucky numbers that will not exist ever again as days of the month?
Also, all of my lucky numbers add up to 222, which if you divide by 10, round to the nearest whole number, divide by two, multiply by five, then add to its original self, that equals 277, and if you convert the individual digits to letters, it spells “BGG”.
“BGG” is the stock exchange symbol for Briggs and Stratton Corporation, the company that made the engine in my lawn mower, but I already planned to mow my lawn on Sunday.
My fortune cookie wouldn’t comment on lawn mowing that will not happen!
Obviously, something is wrong here. Fortune cookies can’t be wrong!
If fortune cookies are wrong, what else could be wrong?
That’s like saying that my scratch-off lottery ticket retirement strategy won’t work!
Total bullshit!
See you on Monday – the Fortune Cookie of Truth has spoken!
