The End of Ethnology

by Wadge

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about

MORT:105

credits

released November 11, 2016

This album is for those who value the ability to freely speak your mind over the modern worry of tiptoeing through the misguided muck of feelings. The anti-fascists have become the fascists. Modern day witch hunters trampling through life with stakes in their eyes. Redefining language and soothsaying thought. No one is immune from their delusional social arson, but only you can decide whether or not you burn. Stop, drop and roll, motherfuckers.

This album is for our comrades around the world. Oceans and miles separate us, but the affinity for this wretched filth keeps us close.
_________________________________________________________

Recorded and mixed at Tiny Bubble Studio and Shave Ice Stand through 2015.
Mastered by Mahler Haze January, 2016 at Drang Nach Nord studio, Eeklo Belgium
Noise by Randall on 02, 11, 32
Vocals by Andy and Brian (CAPTAIN THREE LEG) on 25, 27, 28
Vocals by DKP on 12, 26
_________________________________________________________

This release would not have been possible w/o the dedication and friendship of Andy/Mortville.

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Track Name: Is Anybody Here?
Lick drippings from the gravy train to get your logo placed
Spread your shitty sphincter wide and fuck it with your cred
Track Name: The Store Is Now Closing/Turn Me Loose/Lead Balloon
Everything must be sold for the lowest price
Lost our fucking minds in the race for useless shit
Anthropological lead balloon fucks
God’s worst creation
What an abomination
Dolphins and chimps have a clean-up job ahead
Cephalopods can lend some arms
If there are any of them left
Bacterial resistance
Such a fitting way to end
Track Name: Pillage of the Needledicks
Insignificant withered scum
Useless bipeds, every one
The world doesn’t ever need you to cum
Floppy penis bamboozled by voodoo lust
You can’t get a hard-on from rhino horn dust
Already a eunuch in spirit, so here’s a sword
Chop off that goddamn disgrace
And nail it to a board
Track Name: Stuck in a Time Warp
In the basement beneath the stairs
Nothing ever changes there
Tiki worship, speeding lair
Caffeine driven to the end
Fingers scabbed beyond repair
Ignore inhabitants of this earthly subjugation
It’s always 1989 filled with unrelenting hate
No nostalgia
Just a realization that the riff raff checked out
Long ago
Post-apocalyptic tape trader with a multi-page list gone black
Patiently sat waiting for the soaped stamps to come back
Rip-offs can do their thing, fornicating with the surface man
Just continue on recording deep inside this garbage can
Stuck in a time warp
Only death will reach inside to pull the ankles out
Track Name: At the Seams
Here comes double trouble
Got some big bones to pick
Spitting chunks and triggered
Emotions ooze like gravy
Lazily guard the kingdom
Built on buttered entitlement
Sweat and moaning prerogative
Dripping down its necks
“What about MY feelings?”
The modern battle cry
Do nothing and expect everything
“Yes, please, to one more pie!”
Proclaim delusional cuteness
Demand all to find you hot
Scream for the seats to be bigger
Insist the world changes for you
How privileged you are, the size of a car
Endless mountains to eat
And when you get sick, pass the blame like a tit
Genetics take the heat
Bursting at the seams
Track Name: Food for the Wolves
Sitting in a tree stand when the arrow pierced his neck
Swooned like a nurse who just met Richard Speck
Cried like a sissy about losing his life
Scrolling through photos of his widowed wife
Track Name: Flensed and Wrung
Knuckles white, the grip sets in
Take hold of steel with baited breath
Two-fisted, mind has crossed the hairs
The edge is breached
No going back, the time has come
This race of rapists flensed and wrung
To accolades the victor’s wear
Bones of speech
Only here for moments in the scheme
Self-absorbed, the egotist cannot be redeemed
Quadruped are marching full on steam
Brimming with the end of ethnology
Obsolescence fully planned
Another cycle sworn to pass
The manifest reveals the list
All crushed beneath the iron fist
Lone wolf strolls down a dead end street
Sniffs momentarily for meat
Residual and faint of trace
Bygone stink of a worthless race
Track Name: Gather Up the Genitals
They’re circling the huts today
Flying in to swallow, jaws slung wide
Incisors like sharpened spears
Molars gnashing savage lust
With one fell swoop they’ve taken half
Mashing, thrashing what they’ve caught
Stomach acid digesting souls
Slurping intestines from punctured holes
Track Name: Crack No Smile
Show no laughter, crack no smile
Adhere to form
Power violent psychopath
Manson-fuelled dark corn
Set the mood, play the role
Deranged occultist vibe
Swirling feedback, Jimmy Jones
Black arts personified
Tiki way too goofy to endorse
But the Temple of Set? Yes, of course!
Super serious about this stuff
Believe me dudes, it’s tuff n’ ruff
Track Name: Treestand Dicksmack
Never hid the way I live to avoid your rolling eyes
Don’t need to kill an animal to be one of the guys
Reactionary camouflaged generic sycophant
Cave your smirking face in with the power of a plant
Ain’t no hippie pacifist
Won’t back down so you better not miss
Going to my grave at some point anyway
You’re coming along if I leave today
My only hope is that gun goes off and the bullet worms right through that shit for brains
Track Name: Come Here, Boy
You’re a dog person; this much you’re sure to let us know
Got a pooch that rides beside you on the way to the park
Did the March for Pets together, sleeps in your bed
Here’s a question, how come you haven’t eaten that mutt yet?
Does the thought of chewing Golden Lab turn your stomach inside out?
Bet he’d taste really good after they’d lined him up and slit his velvety throat
Why do you relegate only specific animals to your plate?
How come that panting dog is spared from enduring this same fate?
Rationalize, compartmentalize, choose to scoff and ignore
Your precious dog is just as smart and endearing as that pig
Your smacking lips fellated in corpse form from that hip food truck
Where the guy with nerd glasses reassured you it was humanely snuffed
Track Name: But Enough About You/Tour de Dork/You must Remember This/Buddy the Miracle Baby
I just called to say I’d had an amputation
Responded by saying that you had a cold
Some things will never change
The bitter taste of human waste
I mentioned vomiting from the gnawing pain
The only reply was that your sinuses were clogged
$300 team jersey to ride around town
Uptight nerd in stupid stretchy shorts
Please do tell me the specs of your fancy gears
Cycling through traffic like the Tour de Dork
You must remember this
You’re going to face my fist
Teeth will rip, skull will crack
Eyes are gouged right to the back
Oops, I made a mess
To this I must confess
Tell me just how bad it feels
In twenty words or less
How many fingers am I holding?
Shake it off, you’ll be fine
Does it hurt when I twist your spine?
Born in a Qalla to a Sunni
Yet somehow Aarif saw through it all
Rejected everything and fled to America
At 18 months of age he left alone
Travelled to the Promised Land
Embraced by the light of Jesus Christ
Married a street preacher’s daughter
Found a sturdy box on which to proselytize
They cried “dirty Muslim!” from trucks
He said “Not me, you schmucks!”
Track Name: Love the Fetus, Hate the Kid
Hearts are bleeding for the micro-slop
Goofy red placards hoisted by the flock
Nothing more precious than unborn slush
Jamming arms inside to prevent a flush
Born into the mire a hard-boiled world
Shut-up that screaming brat, I’m checking my stocks
Sick of giving handouts to all these snot-nosed kids
My taxes would be better spent on a new golf course
Life begins at conception
And ends the moment the little shit is calved
Stroking a Christian erection
To images of fetuses ripped the fuck apart
Track Name: Seizure and Flop
NIMBY dipsticks seizure and flop
Rural warriors humping the cause
Imagined symptoms regurgitated
“My cousin’s dog shit his pants from the noise!”
Let’s build coal generators in their backyard
Track Name: The Asses of Humanity
Temper tantrum toddlers
Go poopy in their Caliphate
Track Name: Affluent Blastbeats
Neo blackened crust with a twist of cheese
Palatable production for those new to the scene
They’re offensive, but they don’t mean it
The bass player’s sister is a full blown dyke
Got a GAUZE patch so they get a pass
That bit about immigrants was just for a laugh
Said they don’t dig barriers at the club
But those are the rules so what the fuck
Gave me free stickers to put around town
When mom wasn’t looking I stuck one on the van
Anarchist hoodies, battle lattes
Tiny mustaches and skinny jeans
Track Name: Cuntbags Sickly Fuck
Bastards born again
Stretch that sewer womb
Baking failure cakes
Baste them thick in smoke
Shit stains can’t keep up
Cause they’re too busy eating chips
Track Name: Quit the Weak Shit
Life is uncomfortable, hive mind of the lumps
You don’t have the right to not be offended
So sensitive you can’t wipe your ass without crying
We’ve entered a new gate on the spiral down to hell
Drag queen has-been, you’re so mean
How dare you wear women’s clothes!
Should have checked your privilege at the door
Who’s got the real struggle here?
“Everyone always shoving their lives in my face”
“What about me? It’s all about meeeee!”
“You need to live each moment worrying about how I might feel!”
Track Name: Sea of Slugs
Got the jersey, got the hat
Live and breathe for the team
And their stats
Everything comes down to this
Urinal in the living room
So no moments are missed
Can’t relate to anyone
Unless they share this lifeless quest
Watching other people run around
Case of beer, scarfing bags of shit
Big foam hands, plastic hockey sticks
“Rah rah!” go the sea of slugs
Bunch of fuckin’ right on buds
Gotta be there to support the boys
So these millionaires can buy more toys
Did I catch the game?
The answer’s no
Couldn’t even tell you who played what
Awkward silence, jaw hangs frozen
Don’t care that some QB is in a rut
I’d rather weed my garden
Than listen to Talk Sports
Go crash your golf cart into a tree
If your wife gets pregnant – abort!
Track Name: What Becomes of the Barrel-Chested?
Holier than thou kids on a trampoline
High fiving each other in their positive scene
Make a change by screwing other bands
Who didn’t wear bandanas or have X’s on their hands
They actually did push-ups before the show
Had to be sure the guns looked pumped
Room of chugga chugga chumps
Preachy squirts with nothing to prove
Well looky here, reunion shows
And not surprisingly it still blows
The past was a joke and even more so now
Look at you drink, barbecue half a cow
Edge was so narrow almost everyone fell off
Tell your kid you used to be in a band
“Don’t get upset, Pop, but why was it so bland?”
“Were you really a vegan, Dad?”
“That was just a phase, son. No more questions, lad.”
“Now get the old man a beer and leave me alone”
“I’m bidding on a rare JUDGE test pressing I must own”
“Didn’t your mother say to mow the lawn?”
“Gonna count to three and you’d better be gone”
“Now!”
Track Name: Pimple Popper Pornogrind
Pussy Masher huffs into a chair inside his mother’s house
Got a pouty bottom lip when asked to wash the pots
Upset because he was in the middle of a new pornogrind song
Has a split cassette lined up with PUKEBLAST from Arkansas
Mother unknowingly mails out tapes
With tracks about how her son rapes
Though let’s be clear, he’s never really touched
A pair of breasts or single human butt
Cack his sweatpants if an actual woman called him out
Pimple Popper programs putrid pustuletic polluted plops
Couldn’t pitch shift his way out of a paper bag
But from behind his drum machine he swears he murders fags
Track Name: Gaping Maws Hang Crammed
Child of the genocide struggling to stand
Crawled 500 miles just to be with you
Dust off the iPad mini and load the slideshow
Hold onto your mind Jean Paul, it’s about to blow
Mountains of hot dogs steamed
Athletes feel the heat
Gaping maws hang crammed
Mouths are garbage cans
Competitive eaters tour South Sudan
Fist bump the knuckles of starvation
Might need some help to hold up tiny wrists
“Yo, Frankie, did we print team shirts in extra small?”
Rub a belly, tug an ear
Spectators pumped up to cheer
A contender heaves and pukes
Armed guards hold back the excited fans
From clawing up the vomit to feed to their dying kids
This race was really tight
But in the end it all came down
To one man above the rest
Who in the face of adversity
Showed something to you and me
That humanity is truly fucked
Track Name: The Science of Dipshits
I’m not a scientist, but I do believe that you’re a tit
Futurists are wasting time predicting how we’ll evolve
The keys were handed over long ago
Grinning men in suits threw up their hands
Drove this fucker off the cliff
Spiraling abyss
Pacified the droolers with shiny rocks
And promises of low price socks
If there’s ever a revolt and angry mobs
It’ll be because they ran out of cheap fried chicken
We deserve to ebb
Universal sigh of relief
(I’ll Bet You Ride A Longboard)
Self-imposed exile from not being insufferable
I’ll bet you ride a longboard
(The Matador’s Oopsie)
Guffawed when the bull’s horn ripped open that throat
Bled out in front of the family
(Safe Space)
Feeling really uncomfortable
With the way you didn’t look at me
No eye contact, but I still didn’t like it
And I don’t know what’s on your mind
Lock the doors and bar the windows
We’re just letting in sisters today
Thanks for stopping by, but get the fuck away
We’re writing our own history and you’re not in it
Building a world within a world within a world
No one gets offended there
Until someone disagrees about the pattern choice of blinders
(Pulled Over for Dumb Decisions)
There’s never been a better time to merge the world of political grindcore with promotion of the modern automobile.
(Intrinsic Asshole)
Walking through life like royalty
Lay your coat down for the extraordinary
Numbing dialogue all must endure
Lest an ego-maniacal fit be thrown
Bossy from the moment speech came
No one ever knocked it back to size
Now a full grown monster stampedes through the streets
Insisting it’s so special we must be captivated
Track Name: Chocolate Hands
A regional specialty from sweeping a nation
Young and old alike, come and join the celebration
Chocolate hands
Expertly crafted
Fill up a basket to surprise the kids
Lopped off treats
Belgian sweets
Leopold II, the nutty chocolatier
Can’t stop eating this ode to friendship
Melts in your mouth and not on your stumps
Track Name: Academic Stripes
Stop right there you free speech lover
Here’s a list we’ve made of what can’t be said
Oppression has two Ps and Ss
Get that through your insensitive head
So ‘progressive’ this bloodthirsty system
Designed by the mind unkempt
Total silence, a tenant of the horn-rimmed
Slippery conscripts struggle hard to get a grip
Self-appointed blackout beasts
Marauding band of martyred tots
Guardians present their sleeves
So injured birds can wipe their snot
Like fire in a theatre
They’re adding phrases one by one
Someone mean called Sadie fat
It’s like they’d shot her with a gun
Inchoate intellects remanded in custody
Speak never and forever hold your piece
Megaphones don’t morph garble into poetry
Being irritating doesn’t mean you’ve won a thing
Why would so much strength need even more protection?
With pithy knights to fortify the moat
Terrified of a trigger being pulled full stop
Open vocabulary, a tradition of the old
Quivering masses can’t handle the discourse
Opinions might deviate from their own
Decrying labelled fascists for their evils
All the while behaving like a tyrannical clone
No one else will be sanctioned to differ
So shut them down and demand that they atone
Wailing students unfledged and pious
Maybe one day they’ll look back and groan
Track Name: Stalker Talker
Duck and dodge, soul sucker’s coming
Jesus, fuck, there’s no use running!
Say goodbye to precious life
Time thief bleeds it down the drain
Social terrorist detonates
Left for dead right in the street
Can’t it see the look of anguish?
Or hear me screaming in my head?
Tortured by the lack of interest
Forced to endure, there’s no escape!
Everyone cringes at its existence
Offering nothing, but taking it all
Track Name: Made the Choice
Ready to walk past me
Better let it go
I stare down at the ground
Trailing through the snow
I can feel it coming
Scab’s been picked through raw
Before the words make it out
I dislocate the jaw

Whimpering and crumpled
Hand raised for me to stop
They murdered mercy long ago
Now kiss this fucking rock!
Gurgles spit through bleeding
The red has soaked the white
Emotionless, I carry on
Now rid of one more blight
Track Name: Slow and Steady Dies the Race
Hominid avaricious
Steal from the oceans
Dump into the oceans
How many parts per million
Are you stupid fuck?
Track Name: Killed By Grind
Larynx stripped
Cartilage ripped
Lined up for slaughter at the microphone
Clawing from the inside out
High frequency never stops
Auditory pathways systematically reamed
Grinding down the human biology
Until the day the machines write my necrology
Track Name: Got No Friends
Got no friends, don’t need none
Lone wolf contemplating in the den
Seething with acrimony few can match
Pacing bitterness from end to end
This race has worn out its welcome
Waiting for the pandemic to amp
Mutant branch of the family tree
Choking out all relatives
Misery hates company
Can’t relate to a single soul
Writhing inside while appearing still
Carry on as long as there’s a will
Waiting for the pandemic to amp
Drowning in solitude
Stand surrounded by a thousand being plague
Watching the leaves turn black and fall
Heart stops beating, flesh starts rotting
Another summer fades away…
Replaced by the grip of winter
Enter as a stranger, leave as a corpse
If you ever knock upon my door
Track Name: I Give Up
Barely holding on
Fingers losing grip
Good things go from bad to worse
Every bubble has to burst
The biggest fear in life isn’t the moment when it ends
It’s living in the here and now while everything descends
The quoted silver lining is a guillotine blade
Born to be forgotten, fire cast into the grave