Some Joker Calling Himself "Chim Richards" Has Been Messing with Us

The only evidence of said maniac's existence.
The only evidence of said maniac's existence.

Here at RFT Music, we're dedicated to keeping track of all the great concerts going on in town, so you don't have to. From scouring the calendars of the area's best venues and snatching up flyers to collecting event submissions via carrier pigeon and this thing called the Internet, we get all kinds of show information every single day. Sometimes, though, we get trolled and rickrolled so dang good. We ain't even mad though, 'cuz we're no strangers to love. You know the rules, and so do I. A full commitment's what I'm thinking of. You wouldn't get this from any other guy.

Quick reminder: this is how you should submit shows to us if you want to make sure we cover what matters to you. Check it out and tell us what's going on. We're happy to help in whatever ways we can. Alternatively, you could follow the model of some maniac who has been submitting shows to us in somewhat unconventional ways. His name is Chim Richards, he is a madman and we, at RFT Music, genuinely salute him.

SUBMITTOR'S NAME: Monsignor Richards

EVENT: "Event of Uncertain Origin"

DATE: 2014-2-18

TIME: When the Bough Breaks

COST: your last cup of sorrow

VENUE NAME: Lil' Mix-Ups Gender Dysmorphic Paintball Dungeon

CONTACT NAME: Heike Schlagzeug

SUBMITTOR'S E-MAIL: [email protected]

DESCRIPTION: Warring Factions of St. Louis:

It is I, Chim Richards. Wizard-slayer, danger-maker, crud-fudger and corn-popper to the stars. For far too long has this city been divided by the invisible boundaries of hirsutism. The hairless youths and Washington Avenue party poopers rule the more vacuous quarters of the night; The lushly-furred wunderkinder of the underground hold sway over the bizarre nether-realm. Around them, the city sinks into the clawed grasp of Ennui and her lap-dog, Doldrums. Only a god-king could bridge the gap that separates your sects. I am that god-king, but I have been busy with my puzzles and placemat mazes. In my stead I send to you the might and mystery of Meistereseichenreichenessefussegesangen, Nuerenberg's most popular bassist. Only through the sonic wreckage wrought by this most primordial of tunesmiths can the fault lines of your home be healed. Not by welding shut the breach -- nay, not at all. Meistereseichenreichenessefussegesangen will shatter and smash and melt all that stands before it, leaving only a bubbling ooze that will cover your city to a depth of 17 leagues. In time that sludge sea will birth a new lifeform, one that percolates first, then swims, then crawls, then walks, then flies, then flickers ceaselessly through all realms and worlds. But that is untold millennia from now. You call for a god? I send you a sky beast, an earth titan, a fire storm, a celestial wind, a monster. I send you Meistereseichenreichenessefussegesangen. All shall fall. All shall die. All shall be remade in the image of Meistereseichenreichenessefussegesangen.

Don't forget to visit the merchtable.


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