…and though the word of the land was good — for blessed are they who toil as to bring glory unto Jørn — there were those that spake a word which decried all that is right and trve, and through their blasphemy bestowed they unto the land a pox which made a mockery of these things rendered unto all by our Lord’s Jørn-ness. “Behold!” spake the Muppet “ye heathens ov Canada! Hear me, I beg! Renounce thy false idol and remove its name from thine tongues forever!” But lo, and a great cry came forth from the mouths of the unrepentant, for yet they still followed the word ov the untrve, and spaketh they the word as one in a voice which made the very earth quake.
And the word was “Bookakee.”
…and so it came to pass that five demons would crawl forth from those most wretched depths of Canada. So named were those minions of befoulment: Philippe Langelier, Simon Pierre Gagnon, Jonathan David, JP Bouchard, and Jonathan Gagnon. In the name of the ‘phagist, The Faceless and the Dying Fetus spake the demons, and burned them together in the hellfire of those spirits until the five became one, and the beast would be called Bookakee. Lo, and there was tech-death, for the combined essences of the Gagnons gave the abomination fierce noodly strings with which the beast beat its victims most unmercifully. With Bouchard’s cloven hooves ran the demon, and split the very land did he with the quaking tumult of his blasting percussive stride. In the belly of the beast burned the bassfire of David, and this fire was a firmament, and this firmament did hold. Immeasurable powers did the leviathan of Canada wield, and in the valley of the shadow of tech-death screamed the monster with the voice of he that was Langelier, spaketh he with the souls of wrathful spirits and tortured swine. “Alas!” spake the Muppet “Bookakee is upon me!”
…and in the year of our Jørn 2018, the great beast returned, and laid waste did it to eardrums and expectations. Lo, and there was noodling, and though the lands were accustomed to wanking assaults, unprepared were they for the desolation to come. With unearthly skill and technical prowess the fretboards did burn, and those who bade audience to the Cryptopsy burnings of “Monarch of the Depraved” and “Oculus Nebula” became enthralled to the desolation: for though this masked aberration walked not in Jørn‘s trvth, such was the strength of its noodles that a man who is faithful to trvth might be made to gaze upon the creature with lust in his ears. A great flood of ever-shifting song structures swept the land for 11 tracks and 50 minutes, and those who had publicly denounced the beast were made to celebrate the progressive schizophrenia delivered unto them with astounding versatility. They who had prepared once more for the millionth coming of the Necrophagist were met instead with Faceless progression and jazz-ebel seduction, and helpless were they to resist the originality and zazz which beset them so.
Yea, for though the music which sprayed forth did drench the land in spunk, the children of Jørn would not so easily be drowned by the will of Langelier. As an icepick is to the brain, so were the porcine cries to the ears; lo, and there was pig squealing, for as Ignominies burned to the ground in a blasphemous revelry of blast beats and spastic string-ed miracles, the beast let out a great “breeee!” and its power was no more. And so it came that the beast did defeat itself, for its Dillinger Escape Plan of frenzied stylistic amalgamation could not undo the many errors wrought by the piggening. Though the playful insanity of “Mario Whirl” and utter slamming devastation of “Muliebria” haunted the Muppet‘s ears and bade him question his faith, each pig-ed cry reminded him of Jørn’s love, for never are His children made to listen to such swine songs. Though the tech was strong and the death was good, the soul of Langelier simply could not claim that of the Muppet, and there was much rejoicing.
…and so the Muppet would recount those horrors from the times of Ignominies, and in the darkest part of his heart there still yet lay a shameful fascination with the beast: would not his soul the demon have seized had it spake with any other tongue? “Mario Whirl” yet echoed in his ears and, though the absurd and much-maligned voice of the monster had failed to engulf the puppet in its sticky heretical Armageddon, trembled he to realize that such blasphemy stood but alone between he and giving in to Bookakee; should the word of the beast become less piggish, a day might come when he might resist the infectious cacophony of the beast no longer. Many were they that would fall victim to the devilry of Bookakee, but among them, the Muppet was not.