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Album: Miscellaneous (1994)
Artists: Propaghandi

  1. A People's History Of The World
  2. Albright Monument, Bagdhad
  3. Anchorless
  4. And We Thought That Nation-States Were A Bad Idea
  5. Anti-Manifesto
  6. Apparently, I'm A "P.C. Fascist" (Because I Care About Both Human And Non-Human Animals)
  7. Back To The Motor League
  8. Bullshit Politicians
  9. Death Of Manolete *
  10. Ego Fum Papa (I Am The Pope)
  11. Fuck The Border
  12. Gifts
  13. Hate, Myth, Muscle, Etiquette
  14. Head, Chest Or Foot?
  15. I Was A Pre-Teen McCarthyist
  16. Ladies' Nite In Loserville
  17. Less Talk, More Rock
  18. March Of The Crabs
  19. Mate Ka Moris Ukun Rasik An
  20. Middle Finger Response
  21. Nailing Descartes To The Wall/(Liquid) Meat Is Still Murder
  22. Natural Disasters
  23. New Homes For Idle Hands
  24. Ordinary People Do Fucked-up Things When Fucked-up Things Become Ordinary
  25. Pigs Will Pay
  26. Public Dis-Service Announcement From Shell
  27. Purina Hall Of Fame
  28. Refusing To Be A Man
  29. Resisting Tyrannical Government
  30. Rio De San Atlanta, Manitoba
  31. Showdown (G.E./P.)
  32. Ska Sucks
  33. Stick The Fucking Flag Up Your Goddamn Ass, You Sonofabitch
  34. The Only Good Fascist Is A Very Dead Fascist
  35. The State Lottery
  36. Today's Empires, Tomorrow's Ashes
  37. With Friends Like These, Who The Fuck Needs Cointelpro?


Propaghandi
Miscellaneous
Today's Empires, Tomorrow's Ashes
The tangled webs they weave span from Pine to Ruby Ridge, way back from Shay's defeat on up to Gustafsen (now cue the ass parade of ditto-heads and commissars and pricks to drown out this faintest threat of commie faggot heretics). Conclusion: the nail that sticks up gets hammered down and the master's finest tools are found slack-jawed and placid amidst the cacophony of screaming billboards and Disney-fied history. Sometimes the ties that bind are strange: no justice shines upon the cemetery plots marked Hampton, Weaver or Anna-Mae where Federal Bureaus and Fraternal Orders have cast their shadows; permanent features built into these borders. But undercover of the customary gap we find between History and Truth, the Founding Fathers bask in the rocket's blinding red glare. The bombs bursting in air. One nation. Indivisible? The truth is when the back-country learned of ratification the People had a coffin painted black and solemnly borne in funeral procession, they buried it deep in the earth as an emblem of the dissolution and internment of their Publick Liberty. Someday, somewhere, today's empires are tomorrow's ashes.
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