'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.
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
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.
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.
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
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.
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
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?
Notes For the artist:Notes For the artist: This page will
always be here under your name in "Featured
Artists". You can always send us an updated Bio using 'CONTACT' on Menu at
the top of page