Last Featured on this show September 21, 2016
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'We're doing God's Work'. That's what Lloyd said when Leipzigg handed over the daily ration of 7-up. At that time He was delivering 'special services' to the absolute top dogs of the 'special services' department of the city. The million dollar penthouse slums where the high art of financial engineering was practiced. These guys would get up at 6, sit behind their desks at 7 and by 9 they could have thrashed a few companies, robbed a few million of their life savings, wiped out a country. At the end of the day you could find them at the fireplace with an Ayn Rand book on their lap. Or something else. That's where Leipzigg came in. The 'special services' man who knew about their fine taste in women, stimulants and other ways to take the mind off the responsibilities and daily worries of a Muppet slayer. 'Doing God's Work?' Leipzigg was an atheist but he had always pictured God as a father figure that loved all off his children. But this was the other version of the Almighty of course. The testosterone driven lord. The Alpha male.

The filthy rich princes had always had access to the hottest chicks. Money can't buy you love, as they say, but when it comes down to sex it's no different from any other market. But when the bubble burst and all the dirt came out in the open, something changed. They had pushed it a little too far this time. It was as if from one day to the next they permanently had dogshit on their shoes. Even the most moronic top models started to develop an aversion to stockbrokers and other servants of the financial sector. There were rumours about a 'Beautiful Woman Factory' hidden somewhere in the Carpathians. Here professor Hitsuro had taken the concept of 'Doing God's Work' to a whole new level. He had set up a production line very much like Dr. Frankenstein's famous experiment in the 1930's. The reassembling of body parts from various sources into something called 'The Perfect Bride'. A huge amount of energy was necessary. They had giant kites to harvest the heavy current from lightning strikes. The rest was clever bio engineering and DNA reconfiguration. The perfect brides felt no aversion to the banker boys. As a matter of fact, they felt nothing at all.

He was always on the guest list. Openings, premieres, fund raising dinners, sweet sixteens. That's where he met Lucy. Hate at first sight. Armin van Buuren, Jay-Z, David Copperfield, they were all there but still she was wining and sobbing over the dress that didn't look as smashing as she had figured.
And then there was that uncle of hers that talked all night long about the war that the progressives had started. He felt like a jew in the 1930's. 'They are after us. It's all gonna happen again. We'll be forced to have Dollar signs sewn on our Armani suits. And you know what will happen after that.'
At the mean time Lucy was screaming hysterically and smashing up the windshield and the left headlight of the car that daddy had given her. It's a fucking cunt car! From a Northern European socialist fucking cunt country. All of a sudden Leipzigg was sick of it. He had to get away from it all. Run as fast as he could.

That was easier said ten done. After all he had spent most of his time in Digitalia over the last decade. So you leave some traces. A phone call at 4 in the morning reminded him of that. 'One button click and you're as naked as the day you was born. But not as innocent'. Then the mysterious fellow hung up. Leipzigg knew what that meant. His transactions, his correspondence, his videos, his kinky fantasies.

What he feared most was a place called 'The Kitchen of Truth', led by Angela AKA Mother. The conventional methods like water boarding or playing Anthrax, or even scarier, Bony M at 120 db for 48 hours long, had proven to be ineffective. Mother practiced Mental Penetration. You would simply be 'invited' for a so called 'kitchen table session' where Mother Angela would look you straight in the eyeball and you knew she knew. All your dirty little secrets and your most intimate fears. The stuff like rats, sharks, snakes, darkness, high altitudes or being burried alive. Leipzigg had seen wild, proud and strong rebels turn into obedient law abiding citizens. He knew what he had to do. Destroy all of his digital devices. Smash it all to dust. Cut up and burn ID cards, credit cards and every other piece of plastic in his wallet. No longer exist. He jumped on his bike and cycled for days.

What kicked in now was the worst pain of all. The pain of regret. Broken promises, broken hearts, broken dreams. People that he had betrayed, humiliated, abandoned, robbed of their dignity, of their happiness.
At sundown he watched a flock of birds flying south. 'This bird is gonna stay', Leipzigg said to himself.

After all these years of being a selfish prick he decided he was gonna give something back to society. This was a turning point, Leipzigg 2.0.
He started giving courses 'Slow Dancing' and 'Heavy Metal Guitar' in old peoples homes. You could say: 'Slow dancing, OK, but super fast heavy metal arpeggios with their stiff fingers?'. Well it was just power chords that he taught them. With the amp at the max, hitting those 3 thick strings gave a truly empowering sensation. A sense of being a young god again.

All over the world cities where dying a slow death. Shops went bankrupt, factories were closed down. Streets filled with litter and buildings covered with pigeon shit.
Leipzigg got involved with a group that occupied abandoned factories, some of them with their machines still in them and fully intact. They restarted the machines and started producing under a whole new set of conditions. There were serious threats coming from the owners. They called it theft. The group stated that the concept of private property was outdated and simply didn't work anymore. Private militias where assaulting the workers, who were armed with industrial tools that turned out to be surprisingly effective.

There was this little phrase that he picked up somewhere: 'Do what you can, take what you need'. Too simple? It's in the complex ways of organizing things that the rats, the parasites and fraud perpetrators grab their chance.
Most of the time we don't know where Leipzigg is hanging out. There are those who claim to have seen him tuning the Gibson Les Paul of a 90 years old guy. Or talking to a young bird. Occasionally he's sending out a tweet. Writing a song. He has seen a lot in his life. But remember, he doesn't know all the answers. Do you?

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(PST) Name length
9:00 God's Work? 05:01
9:05 The Man 04:10
9:09 Hammers&Helmets 04:51
9:14 Get My Baby back 06:03
9:20 Big bad Mother 05:03
9:25 Such A Beautiful Day 05:26
9:31 Eye On You 04:18
9:35 Take Me 03:58
9:39 This Bird 05:26
9:45 She's Alive 04:47