Mavin what? To get the answer you need when delving into the complexities of this question, I would like to offer the following phrase: HOLY SHIT.
Let’s break it down, shall we? Let’s take the first part of this phrase that I have presented: HOLY.
HOLY is something that we, on earth, consider to be revered like:
1) A burning bush speaking German.
2) Nachos.
3) Bacon.
4) Long walks on the beach!
5) Moses.
6) Bob Ross.
7) The Untainted Nose of Little Michael Jackson . . .
. . . or, MORE PROFOUNDLY:
A) The Gentle, Warm Caress of a Cushion Style Toilet Seat in the Morning.
Don’t even pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. Those things are freaking great. It’s a great way to say, “how do you do” to the day. It gets things started just right. It is that Sweet Tone from which The Everlasting springs.
In the parlance of one of our favorite floating nannies, Mary Poppins, is it not true that “a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down?” I mean, come on.
“Absurd”, you say? Perhaps.
“What isn’t”, I answer. I unsheathe my sword and say, “Ha. Touche! Take that you brutes!!!”
Take your shots if you will, but I have no shame for my prayers, which the Toilet-Seat and its Purple Pony Brilliance bring me in the morning. One might go so far as to call it a “Altar”. Or, if one has the heart of a lion and the true spirit of a ninja, they might have the gumption to call it like it is: HOLY ground.
Which, incidentally, brings me to the second part of that phrase: “SHIT”.
Okay, “it” stinks. We all know this, but “it” comes from the bowels -- the guts -- the Street Fighter drinking cool-aid. You know, “it” is the Alley Cat with a harmonica and a thousand yard stare. “It” springs from the things we ingest that give us the power of Greyskull. (Which is cool because that means we can fly around on modern medieval machines). “It” even makes us jog faster. Which, incidentally helps one shit better, but all in all everybody knows that too.
I know. I know. I don’t want to beat a dead horse dead. That’s mean, and redundant and I’m not mean or redundant. I eat vegetables!!! That has to count for something, right? I digress………
Oh, yes, Caca! My friends, the Almighty Caca is the emission that gives us permission to take a little vacation into wonderland once or twice a day. “It” is the Great Escape, as they say. “It” is the New Dawn cresting our beloved Camelot. “It” is the Sweet Reign of Arthur and his super duperly fantastic, Round Table. “It” is the Great Equalizer. The Universality of something personal and specific passed between your neighbor, brother, tweed wearing shoe salesmen and drunken uncle’s two toothed mother. “It” facilitates the best intentions of man.
When one shits the Earth stands still. Everything stops. The mind is cleared and there is nowhere to go and nowhere to be. One escapes that nasty little death trap that broods over the reality of where you come from and where you’ve been. “It” is one of those rare moments where one is gifted with the grace that comes with being in the moment. “It” is an absolute state of clarity that boasts a clear and precise intent. “It” is a true expression of creation born of an autonomic function that validates everything that is human, beautiful and natural about this son of a bitch of a world that chases the true maniacs around the prairie, nipping at our heels. In this State of Bliss, one breaks free like a cool, blue, azure born breeze. “It” is the great gift that comes with being born with opposable thumbs -- which helps with the evolution of smooth leaves into that, oh so squeezable, Charmin. “It” celebrates our mortality and embodies the obstinate spirit of the kind of creatures that caught fire and invented BBQ sauce. That “thing” that put those little plastic wrappers at the end of those stringy things that keep our feet nestled like a swaddled infant taking refuge in our shoes.
Yes, the “errrrr” (that’s onomontapia) is the Stinking Thread that unites us. “It” is a trip that takes us beyond the Light Fantastic and slays The Body Electric. “It” is Poetry born in the act of dropping the “kids” off at the pool. And I love “kids”. “They’re” great and say the darndest things. Right?
IN SUMMATION:
Mavin bridges the rift between the Holy and The Human. They slay the duplicity of Heaven and Grime and join forces to let loose the goodness of the crash, bang and boom.
But seriously, don’t take my word for it. I’m talking crazy talk, right? But am I? Am I, friends? Find out. Give these guys a good listen and at some point you will hear it. Then the Heavens will open up and Satan himself will crawl up through your shoes and possess your tongue with the impulse to spill “it” straight and true. When this happens, you will have no choice but to utter the most magical poem in the world:
HOLY SHIT!
I gotta go now. My mom’s calling and she needs me to brush her hair.
Written by B.P.
Design ByWilliam Mozingo
