burntsystems

[burntsystems]

I’m nervous but excited.

Yard Dog emerges from the shadows, a solo pop-punk force dragged from the tomb of '90s goth-industrial grit and fused with today’s darkwave pop sensibilities. This project delivers raw, unapologetic energy with eruptions of emotion and a sonic palette shaped by decades of underground influence. Think Depeche Mode’s haunting melodies, Bigod 20’s industrial edge, IAMX’s theatrical flair, James Blake’s emotional depth, and the pounding pulse of 242—then run it all through a 20-year-old groove box that refuses to die.

The logo? A burly, no-nonsense bulldog with folded arms, guarding the stage like an old-school bouncer from the days before cages. It’s a symbol of raw power, defiance, and unfiltered authenticity—everything Yard Dog stands for.

Gritty lyrics rip through the noise, pairing pop-punk hooks with the cathartic energy of industrial-era desperation anthems for the disenchanted, built on groovy, lo-fi electronics with a punchy, DIY ethos that pulls no punches. Yard Dog doesn’t just play music—it provokes, stirs, and dares you to feel something real.

Welcome to the Yard. 🐾

[burntsystems]

Finally my own little spaceship

[burntsystems]

Obi Wan Kenobi in the Star Wars Saga

[burntsystems]

     “As hard as it was to become a Jedi, it was even harder to stop being one.”      “They were all gone.  All the Jedi.  And sometimes I wondered if I should have gone with them.”      “You never trained me for this, Master Qui-Gon.  You never taught me how to fade away.”      "There’s a strength and nobility in restraint.  I know that’s what you’d tell me, Master Qui-Gon.  But nothing about this feels noble.  The people here are dying. While I do nothing.  I cannot fight as a Jedi.  I cannot train the boy.  I am lost here, Master.”      "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.  The last of my Order.  But this is not the end of the Jedi.  All it took was a young boy’s courage to assure me of that.“ Now that we have the teaser trailer for Obi-Wan Kenobi out, I’ve been wanting to reread these issues of Star Wars about Obi-Wan’s time on Tatooine.  Who knows how well they will or won’t fit together with what the show gives us, as I doubt they’re much on the radar of the show.  But that’s not the point of why I wanted to reread them, and it’s more that I love this storyline. Because the Obi-Wan we see at the end of Revenge of the Sith is heartbroken, he feels responsible for not being able to prevent Anakin’s fall to the dark side, he’s lost his entire family, his community, his people, his culture.  And he cannot even speak openly of that loss, he cannot practice his own faith, he would be hunted down and killed–or worse–if anyone knew what his faith was.  That he was born as Force-sensitive and raised as a Jedi, that alone was enough that the Empire was hunting him down to kill him, much less that he was Obi-Wan Kenobi. And that’s what really tortures Obi-Wan.  The loss of his family and people devastates him, but that he cannot even lean on his faith, he cannot even be a Jedi anymore, that every cell in him wants to help people, but he cannot, because it would call attention to him, call attention to Luke. This is the central conflict Obi-Wan faces, because he is a Jedi to the core. “Jedi cannot help what they are. Their compassion leaves a trail. The Jedi code is like an itch. He cannot help it.” “I cannot fight as a Jedi.  I cannot train the boy.  I am lost here, Master.” Obi-Wan Kenobi is lost because he only has the thinnest of threads to hold onto in a galaxy that has frayed and snapped and broken every other one.  He is the survivor of a genocide of his people, a galaxy of lights he used to be able to feel in his mind are now dark, and he cannot even talk about it, because there would be no shelter and it would only drag down more people.  Would only snuff out the last few candles of light left.  Cannot help anyone because it would only make them suffer more.  And that conflicts with everything he was taught to be, everything he wants to be–someone who helps people because of his compassion for them, an itch that lives under his skin and that he must hold himself back from scratching. And the story is about finding the balance there.  Because the danger still lurks, but learning when and where you can still help, learning how to find a way to be a Jedi in a galaxy that is so vastly different than what it used to be, to find a way to hide who and what you are until the time is right, without losing yourself to it.  That’s Obi-Wan Kenobi’s journey and there is still so much room for story in that. Especially because, whatever happens, we know he does get to be a Jedi openly again.  Maybe only for a brief moment, but when facing Vader on the Death Star, there’s no question that Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Jedi, that is his culture, his faith, and his purpose.  One that will help save the galaxy, one that will help create a moment for Luke and Leia and Han to escape and find their own path forward, one that will eventually allow him to become a Force Ghost and continue to help guide Luke and eventually reunite him with Anakin. Do we know what happens ultimately with Obi-Wan?  Yeah, of course, we’ve seen A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back and Revenge of the Sith.  We know how this story ends, but the journey there is one that I’m very interested in, because it absolutely aches to think of a Jedi who cannot even be who they are in a galaxy that would kill them just for existing, and how they must grapple with the horror and pain of that, how they find their way through such a deep cutting into their spirit and still moving forward, still trying to find the light and hope again.

[burntsystems]

New music album is out!

[burntsystems]

My account of 1991 road of death

This should be easy but it's not. I am avoiding it and wishing it never took place. It was hot out. So hot I fact that I thought we were standing behind another jet plane when we stepped out of ours. So hot that the black polish on our boots melted off and collected sand along your sole. We spent a few days getting the tanks Ready condition one (redcon1) then proceeded on a road march. It was dark out and quite cool. You could see the glow of the oil well fires on the clouds of smoke in the far distance. There was a distortion from the tanks exhaust that reminded me of the mirages made by extreme heat. We slowed then stopped then crept along and with a tank, you basically just let go of the brake & it creeps along like an old car in gear. The first thing I noticed all of a sudden was a carcass of a vehicle on the left shot to pieces. The occupants were also in pieces surrounding tue car. A civilian car. I heard radio chatter that " These are the ones who did not get away." Right after hearing that I unbuttoned the hatch and raised my seat and could see the absolute carnage as far as the horizon. Hunks of vehicles, civilian vehicles strewn everywhere. Some neatly packed in rows, some driven into the sand in all directions. They were all burned & Shot with far too many bullets. I thought,"what sort of evil mind would shoot unarmed civilian vehicles until they caught fire?" It was then that we passed the bus on the right. The back door was open and missing. Many small faces piled top of one another looking back at me. I started to realize the bodies I was seeing were all real. This horror was real! I looked away. I tried to not see anything but there was just so much and we were going so damn slow. It required thought and concentration to maneuver an 80 ton tank through all the misplaced vehicles. I ended up seeing much more than I cared to. The bodies faces were peeled of some flesh but not all. They were burned and some transparent. You could see through their clothes and ribs. I'd thought at least 150-250 thousand rounds were used on these people. They were all just trying to get away. There were soldiers in green on the hill on the right dragging a burnt corpse up the hill to their truck. They stopped and stared at us. I'd say they were 30 meters away. The smell was of silica and burnt tires. Cigarettes I smoked regularly deleted much of the smell of rotten flesh. Like an old bacon fat can mixed with rotten sewer. Washington DC sewers faintly reminds me of it. It's disgusting. There were so many dead families. Ambushed and cut down trying to use their bodies as shields for their loved ones. It took maybe an hour to traverse the road of death but it felt like an entire day. The faces were worn. The forward bone features protruding from their skin. Teeth exposed, eyes gutted and sunken. Cartilage exposed on their noses. They were scalped by fire and sand storms and their skulls were bright. Their clothing held some folks hair and moved like flags of surrender in the wind. It's horrific to think of all these people, families, children gunned down in cold blood. Not just murdered but shot so much that their vehicle caught fire while they bled out from gunshot wounds. Crawling one or two steps. Hanging splayed out of the vehicle or bundled together either inside or outside. Partially covered in sand and sand blasted bones. It was hard to imagine them all as people once from the state of their bodies after so long a time in the elements. It still is. I guess that is why it haunts me so. I do not know if this really happened and since it did, I imagine it didn't. I want to be normal but I am not and never can be knowing that evil unchecked could lead to this for me or those I love.

[burntsystems]

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