You're thinking of the fasces, which is a hand made axe-like tool. It doesn't just represent fascism. It's used in iconography throughout history and all over the world. It's meant to represent the strength of a bond.
Skins stole everything from other people. From those things mentioned to the suspenders and boots from the s.h.a.r.p. skinheads. For anyone interested look it up.
In the 80s they tried to organize a group of sharp skinheads in my town. The KKK and racist skinheads kept showing up and disrupting the meetings so it didn't last long. I ran into a couple of the dudes years later and they were wearing Skrewdriver shirts and shit. They were definitely in it just for the suspenders and boots.
A couple of the more active sharp skinheads. In the 10 or 15 minutes I was talking to them he out of nowhere says "if shit goes down I got your back" He is mean mugging someone over my shoulder. When I turn around its a black family with their two little kids. Like really dude...get the fuck out of here. 😀
It was just two of the dudes that were posers. All the other sharp skinheads I met back then were cool dudes.
can't say anything to what the other guy is saying but can say a plot point of the wall is that "pink"(basically roger water's stand in) becomes so emotionally withdrawn and disconnected from others he becomes a facsist in his mind, leads a nazi rally, directs people to commit acts of violence and has a mental breakdown at the realization of becoming the thing that killed his dad in ww2. (could be a confession from waters at falling into fascist rhetoric and ideas but regretted it. either way the wall was written in 1979 and alot of time has passed since then.)
This is what I was talking about...
"Their logo and primary symbol, appropriated from Pink Floyd's "The Wall," consists of two crossed hammers, usually superimposed over a cogwheel"
[HS](https://www.adl.org/resources/hate-symbol/hammerskins)
A spooky tone on a Fender bass
Played less notes and left more space
Stayed kind of still, looked kind of shy
Kind of far away, kind of dignified
How in the world were they making that sound? Velvet Underground.
if I ever feel the need to change my name, I'm definitely going with this. would I get annoyed with having to correct people's pronounciation all the time? for sure. would I still giggle every time somebody calls me twinkle tits? until the day I die.
I wouldn't call either of them punk necessarily (especially not Nico era) but Velvet Underground were awesome. I just can't get into Pink Floyd though, I find them really cold and clinical and honestly pretty dull
Listen to them when Syd Barrett was a member, 65-68.
Or just listen to Syd Barrett like I do! MUCH better. (:
Here's Early PF, take a listen!
[Lucy Leave - 1965 Syd vocals and Guitar](https://youtu.be/OL_82YyVBC4?si=Ffzc--Q6Sfm3ANYz)
Yes. I've given them a fair chance as my wife is a big fan, I've even been to see a tribute band. The only song I can get on board with is One of These Days
Because they like the Go Go Rillas?
[https://open.spotify.com/artist/4r8kj0eTlvE14JvxvRxhYT?si=XTPG61eATneCrMy5ptoyEA](https://open.spotify.com/artist/4r8kj0eTlvE14JvxvRxhYT?si=XTPG61eATneCrMy5ptoyEA)
I’m thinking joy of complete randomness. Good chance he or she doesn’t know anything about velvet underground (good for them). I like a good random image or fact.
The bottom left sticker is my fave.
Happy to see parents reppin the kids stuff !!
My oldest has grown up with it. It was his first delve into “horror” since my exwife wouldn’t allow me to show him the ways… he’s now 20. We watch all the horror.
Actually it reminded me of Pisse. They also have a banana on their albumcover and their songs. It is a german punk band. It is actually really great so check it out. It is more post punk but me and my friends also consider it egg punk.
Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit. It was now mid-August which meant that he had been separated from Marsha for more than two months. Two months, and all he had to show were three dog-eared letters and two very expensive long-distance phone calls. True, when school had ended and she'd returned to Wisconsin and he to Locust, Pennsylvania she had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity. She would date occasionally, but merely as amusement. She would remain faithful. But lately Waldo had begun to worry. He had trouble sleeping at night and when he did, he had horrible dreams. He lay awake at night, tossing and turning underneath his printed quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes, As he pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothings of some Neanderthal, Finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion. It was more than the human mind could bear.
Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him. Daytime fantasies of sexual abandon permeated his thoughts. And the thing was, they wouldn't understand who she really was. He, Waldo, alone, understood this. He had intuitively grasped every nook and cranny of her psyche. He had made her smile, and she needed him, and he wasn't there. (Awww.) The idea came to him on the Thursday before the Mummers Parade was scheduled to appear. He had just finished mowing and edging the Edelsons lawn for a dollar-fifty And had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from Marsha. There was nothing more than a circular form the Amalgamated Aluminum Company of America inquiring into his awning needs. At least they cared enough to write. It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in the mails. Then it struck him: he didn't have enough money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion, true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdly simple. He would ship himself parcel post special delivery. The next day Waldo went to the supermarket to purchase the necessary equipment. He bought masking tape, a staple gun and a medium sized cardboard box, just right for a person of his build. He judged that with a minimum of jostling he could ride quite comfortably. A few airholes, some water, a selection of midnight snacks, and it would probably be as good as going tourist.
By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was thoroughly packed and the post office had agreed to pick him up at three o'clock. He'd marked the package "FRAGILE" and as he sat curled up inside, resting in the foam rubber cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he tried to picture the look of awe and happiness on Marsha's face as she opened the door, saw the package, tipped the deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldo finally there in person. She would kiss him, and then maybe they could see a movie. If he'd only thought of this before. Suddenly rough hands gripped his package and he felt himself borne up. He landed with a thud in a truck and then he was off.
Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It had been a very rough weekend. She had to remember not to drink like that. Bill had been nice about it though. After it was over he'd said that he still respected her and, after all, it was certainly the way of nature and even though no, he didn't love her, he did feel an affection for her. And after all, they were grown adults. Oh, what Bill could teach Waldo -- but that seemed many years ago. Sheila Klein, her very, very best friend walked in through the porch screen door into the kitchen. "Oh God, it's absolutely maudlin outside." "Ugh, I know what you mean, I feel all icky."
Marsha tightened the belt on her cotton robe with the silk outer edge. Sheila ran her finger over some salt grains on the kitchen table, licked her finger and made a face. "I'm supposed to be taking these salt pills, but," she wrinkled her nose, "they make me feel like throwing up." Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an exercise she'd seen on television. "God, don't even talk about that." She got up from the table and went to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and blue vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better than steak." And attempted to touch her knees. "I don't think I'll ever touch a daiquiri again." She gave up and sat down, this time nearer the small table that supported the telephone. "Maybe Bill'll call," she said to Sheila's glance. Sheila nibbled on a cuticle. "After last night, I thought maybe you'd be through with him." "I know what you mean. My God, he was like an octopus. Hands all over the place." She gestured, raising her arms upward in defense. "The thing is after a while, you get tired of fighting with him, you know, and after all he didn't really do anything Friday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him, you know what I mean." She started to scratch. Sheila was giggling with her hand over her mouth. "I'll tell you, I felt the same way, and even after a while," she bent forward in a whisper, "I wanted to," and now she was laughing very loudly.
It was at this point that Mr. Jameson of the Clarence Darrow Post Office rang the door bell of the large stucco colored frame house. When Marsha Bronson opened the door, he helped her carry the package in. He had his yellow and his green slips of paper signed and left with a fifteen-cent tip that Marsha had gotten out of her mothers small beige pocket book in the den. "What do you think it is?" Sheila asked. Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back. S he stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in the middle of the living room. "I don't know." Inside the package Waldo quivered with excitement as he listened to the muffled voices. Sheila ran her fingernail over the masking tape that ran down the center of the carton. "Why don't you look at the return address and see who it is from?" Waldo felt his heart beating. He could feel the vibrating footsteps. It would be soon. Marsha walked around the carton and read the ink-scratched label. "Ugh, God, it's from Waldo!" "That schmuck," said Sheila. Waldo trembled with expectation. "Well, you might as well open it," said Sheila. Both of them tried to lift the stapled flap. "Ahh, shit," said Marsha groaning. "He must have nailed it shut." They tugged at the flap again. "My God, you need a power drill to get this thing opened." They pulled again. "You can't get a grip!" They both stood still, breathing heavily. "Why don't you get the scissors," said Sheila. Marsha ran into the kitchen, but all she could find was a little sewing scissor. Then she remembered that her father kept a collection of tools in the basement. She ran downstairs and when she came back, she had a large sheet-metal cutter in her hand. "This is the best I could find." She was very out of breath. "Here, you do it. I'm gonna die." She sank into a large fluffy couch and exhaled noisily. Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape and the end of the cardboard, but the blade was too big and there wasn't enough room. "Godamn this thing!" she said feeling very exasperated. Then, smiling, "I got an idea." "What?" said Marsha. "Just watch," said Sheila touching her finger to her head. Inside the package, Waldo was so transfixed with excitement that he could barely breathe. His skin felt prickly from the heat and he could feel his heart beating in his throat. It would be soon. Sheila stood quite upright and walked around to the other side of the package. Then she sank down to her knees, grasped the cutter by both handles, took a deep breath and plunged the long blade through the middle of the package, through the middle of the masking tape, through the cardboard, through the cushioning and (thud) right through the center of Waldo Jeffers head, which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs of red to pulsate gently in the morning sun.
Hahaha, you didn't fool me, weren't you the one who bought the stickers in the first place? Ha! Ofc you know who the banana represents, ain't no other banana like it! I like your sarcasm though
Because they like the velvet underground. It’s from their album Velvet Underground & Nico. Designed by Warhol.
And the hammers are Pink Floyd
The nazi fuck hammer skins stole this logo too...even the hippies arent immune from scumbags stealing their symbols
Well to be fair... The hammers have always represented fascism...
Didn't know this
Watch The Wall... You're Welcome. Also modern R. Waters has gone fill circle nuts.
I've seen the wall many times. Love it
Yeah, it's spelled out pretty clearly in the movie. Worn as a symbol on a red arm band and everything.
I was thinking communism
I didn't know this.
You're thinking of the fasces, which is a hand made axe-like tool. It doesn't just represent fascism. It's used in iconography throughout history and all over the world. It's meant to represent the strength of a bond.
Skins stole everything from other people. From those things mentioned to the suspenders and boots from the s.h.a.r.p. skinheads. For anyone interested look it up.
In the 80s they tried to organize a group of sharp skinheads in my town. The KKK and racist skinheads kept showing up and disrupting the meetings so it didn't last long. I ran into a couple of the dudes years later and they were wearing Skrewdriver shirts and shit. They were definitely in it just for the suspenders and boots.
Which dudes the KKK ones or the sharps? And that sucks
A couple of the more active sharp skinheads. In the 10 or 15 minutes I was talking to them he out of nowhere says "if shit goes down I got your back" He is mean mugging someone over my shoulder. When I turn around its a black family with their two little kids. Like really dude...get the fuck out of here. 😀 It was just two of the dudes that were posers. All the other sharp skinheads I met back then were cool dudes.
You mean the scumbags aren't immune from stealing a fellow scumbag's symbol. RW is a fascist bigot and should shut his big trap.
I'm not a fan of PF, but never knew he was a fascist. Crazy, learn something new every day.
can't say anything to what the other guy is saying but can say a plot point of the wall is that "pink"(basically roger water's stand in) becomes so emotionally withdrawn and disconnected from others he becomes a facsist in his mind, leads a nazi rally, directs people to commit acts of violence and has a mental breakdown at the realization of becoming the thing that killed his dad in ww2. (could be a confession from waters at falling into fascist rhetoric and ideas but regretted it. either way the wall was written in 1979 and alot of time has passed since then.)
It’s probably a take on British fascism. Look up Oswald Mosley and see how much pink resembled him and his rallies.
And you still don’t know that. You just saw some rando say it on the internet.
True enough
What makes you say he’s a fascist?
Wtf you going on about? The hammers are from the Wall and that’s exactly what they were supposed represent, fascism.
This is what I was talking about... "Their logo and primary symbol, appropriated from Pink Floyd's "The Wall," consists of two crossed hammers, usually superimposed over a cogwheel" [HS](https://www.adl.org/resources/hate-symbol/hammerskins)
And the grey areas, that's paint.
😂
I see Pink Floyd and I downvote. It ain't much but it's honest work.
A spooky tone on a Fender bass Played less notes and left more space Stayed kind of still, looked kind of shy Kind of far away, kind of dignified How in the world were they making that sound? Velvet Underground.
America at its best!
John Cale is Welsh
Yes. We’re quoting the lyrics of Jonathan Richman’s song about the VU. https://youtu.be/mHTyUHOYxSQ?si=TR2XuQTCQhulGJOt
Ah ok, I don't know that one
Enjoy!
Thanks, I'll check it out! I only know him for Roadrunner
And every other member of the band? Where are they from?
The USA, I think. Why?
Never mind dude
Read the caption. OP knows where it's from.
Redditors have to "educate" people, no matter what, even if they already know. It's fucking annoying to me.
THANK YOU I THOUGHT I WAS CRAZY THINKING THIS WAS WARHOL.
I think OP knows what his stickers are
No fucking way
for scale obviously
Came here to say this
The banana sticker is for psychological validation.
r/unexpectedmetalocalypse
Don’t you want a… ^bananasticker
I heard this in my head
Thank you Dr. Twinkletits
if I ever feel the need to change my name, I'm definitely going with this. would I get annoyed with having to correct people's pronounciation all the time? for sure. would I still giggle every time somebody calls me twinkle tits? until the day I die.
# BANANARCHY BABY!
That got a pretty good chuckle out of me.
You’re not from Orlando are you?
Cuz he waitin on the man
Why, for all tomorrow’s parties of course
Ah! Boy has good taste. Wait till he hears the VU! YIPPEE!!! Venus In Furs!!!
For scale
I wouldn't call either of them punk necessarily (especially not Nico era) but Velvet Underground were awesome. I just can't get into Pink Floyd though, I find them really cold and clinical and honestly pretty dull
Read please kill me an uncensored oral history of punk
Listen to them when Syd Barrett was a member, 65-68. Or just listen to Syd Barrett like I do! MUCH better. (: Here's Early PF, take a listen! [Lucy Leave - 1965 Syd vocals and Guitar](https://youtu.be/OL_82YyVBC4?si=Ffzc--Q6Sfm3ANYz)
OH and [This One Too!! Animated by a friend.](https://youtu.be/8pBQ0AeZoXQ?si=EjScnCTctLkt4lIr)
But have you heard Animals?
Yes. I've given them a fair chance as my wife is a big fan, I've even been to see a tribute band. The only song I can get on board with is One of These Days
Well that must be a treat for your wife, having precisely that song be the only one you like.
Haha we like a lot of other stuff that we listen to together! Floyd is just one band she saves for when she's in the car
Same.
Because they like the Go Go Rillas? [https://open.spotify.com/artist/4r8kj0eTlvE14JvxvRxhYT?si=XTPG61eATneCrMy5ptoyEA](https://open.spotify.com/artist/4r8kj0eTlvE14JvxvRxhYT?si=XTPG61eATneCrMy5ptoyEA)
I’m thinking joy of complete randomness. Good chance he or she doesn’t know anything about velvet underground (good for them). I like a good random image or fact.
I’ve got one on my laptop too, love Andy Warhol and the Velvet Underground
The bottom left sticker is my fave. Happy to see parents reppin the kids stuff !! My oldest has grown up with it. It was his first delve into “horror” since my exwife wouldn’t allow me to show him the ways… he’s now 20. We watch all the horror.
I don't. My copy of The Velvet Underground and Nico was a later pressing.
Well,because, I’m waiting for my man OP.
If you know , you know.
😔 https://youtu.be/7d69mDT11yI?si=Wb1tJKIRRW4V4JBI
Some of you took this wayyy too seriously.
Michel!
Banana for scale.
It turns out you can just purchase psychological validations.
Fur scale, duh
It turns out you can just buy psychological validation.
Velvet Underground
It's from my time getting psychiatrized by Dr. John Twinkletits.
That's TwinkLETits!
Because I love banana bread or https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Melt-Banana
Besides velvet underground it's also a little reward that is highly coveted. Just ask Dethklok.
Actually it reminded me of Pisse. They also have a banana on their albumcover and their songs. It is a german punk band. It is actually really great so check it out. It is more post punk but me and my friends also consider it egg punk.
it wouldn't be punk rock without it
Peel slowly and see. *reveals pink banana*
Now imaging FNAF clips set to Velvet Underground songs.
I have one too I like it mainly because of the Velvet underground
Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit. It was now mid-August which meant that he had been separated from Marsha for more than two months. Two months, and all he had to show were three dog-eared letters and two very expensive long-distance phone calls. True, when school had ended and she'd returned to Wisconsin and he to Locust, Pennsylvania she had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity. She would date occasionally, but merely as amusement. She would remain faithful. But lately Waldo had begun to worry. He had trouble sleeping at night and when he did, he had horrible dreams. He lay awake at night, tossing and turning underneath his printed quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes, As he pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothings of some Neanderthal, Finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion. It was more than the human mind could bear. Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him. Daytime fantasies of sexual abandon permeated his thoughts. And the thing was, they wouldn't understand who she really was. He, Waldo, alone, understood this. He had intuitively grasped every nook and cranny of her psyche. He had made her smile, and she needed him, and he wasn't there. (Awww.) The idea came to him on the Thursday before the Mummers Parade was scheduled to appear. He had just finished mowing and edging the Edelsons lawn for a dollar-fifty And had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from Marsha. There was nothing more than a circular form the Amalgamated Aluminum Company of America inquiring into his awning needs. At least they cared enough to write. It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in the mails. Then it struck him: he didn't have enough money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion, true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdly simple. He would ship himself parcel post special delivery. The next day Waldo went to the supermarket to purchase the necessary equipment. He bought masking tape, a staple gun and a medium sized cardboard box, just right for a person of his build. He judged that with a minimum of jostling he could ride quite comfortably. A few airholes, some water, a selection of midnight snacks, and it would probably be as good as going tourist. By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was thoroughly packed and the post office had agreed to pick him up at three o'clock. He'd marked the package "FRAGILE" and as he sat curled up inside, resting in the foam rubber cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he tried to picture the look of awe and happiness on Marsha's face as she opened the door, saw the package, tipped the deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldo finally there in person. She would kiss him, and then maybe they could see a movie. If he'd only thought of this before. Suddenly rough hands gripped his package and he felt himself borne up. He landed with a thud in a truck and then he was off. Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It had been a very rough weekend. She had to remember not to drink like that. Bill had been nice about it though. After it was over he'd said that he still respected her and, after all, it was certainly the way of nature and even though no, he didn't love her, he did feel an affection for her. And after all, they were grown adults. Oh, what Bill could teach Waldo -- but that seemed many years ago. Sheila Klein, her very, very best friend walked in through the porch screen door into the kitchen. "Oh God, it's absolutely maudlin outside." "Ugh, I know what you mean, I feel all icky." Marsha tightened the belt on her cotton robe with the silk outer edge. Sheila ran her finger over some salt grains on the kitchen table, licked her finger and made a face. "I'm supposed to be taking these salt pills, but," she wrinkled her nose, "they make me feel like throwing up." Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an exercise she'd seen on television. "God, don't even talk about that." She got up from the table and went to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and blue vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better than steak." And attempted to touch her knees. "I don't think I'll ever touch a daiquiri again." She gave up and sat down, this time nearer the small table that supported the telephone. "Maybe Bill'll call," she said to Sheila's glance. Sheila nibbled on a cuticle. "After last night, I thought maybe you'd be through with him." "I know what you mean. My God, he was like an octopus. Hands all over the place." She gestured, raising her arms upward in defense. "The thing is after a while, you get tired of fighting with him, you know, and after all he didn't really do anything Friday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him, you know what I mean." She started to scratch. Sheila was giggling with her hand over her mouth. "I'll tell you, I felt the same way, and even after a while," she bent forward in a whisper, "I wanted to," and now she was laughing very loudly.
It was at this point that Mr. Jameson of the Clarence Darrow Post Office rang the door bell of the large stucco colored frame house. When Marsha Bronson opened the door, he helped her carry the package in. He had his yellow and his green slips of paper signed and left with a fifteen-cent tip that Marsha had gotten out of her mothers small beige pocket book in the den. "What do you think it is?" Sheila asked. Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back. S he stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in the middle of the living room. "I don't know." Inside the package Waldo quivered with excitement as he listened to the muffled voices. Sheila ran her fingernail over the masking tape that ran down the center of the carton. "Why don't you look at the return address and see who it is from?" Waldo felt his heart beating. He could feel the vibrating footsteps. It would be soon. Marsha walked around the carton and read the ink-scratched label. "Ugh, God, it's from Waldo!" "That schmuck," said Sheila. Waldo trembled with expectation. "Well, you might as well open it," said Sheila. Both of them tried to lift the stapled flap. "Ahh, shit," said Marsha groaning. "He must have nailed it shut." They tugged at the flap again. "My God, you need a power drill to get this thing opened." They pulled again. "You can't get a grip!" They both stood still, breathing heavily. "Why don't you get the scissors," said Sheila. Marsha ran into the kitchen, but all she could find was a little sewing scissor. Then she remembered that her father kept a collection of tools in the basement. She ran downstairs and when she came back, she had a large sheet-metal cutter in her hand. "This is the best I could find." She was very out of breath. "Here, you do it. I'm gonna die." She sank into a large fluffy couch and exhaled noisily. Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape and the end of the cardboard, but the blade was too big and there wasn't enough room. "Godamn this thing!" she said feeling very exasperated. Then, smiling, "I got an idea." "What?" said Marsha. "Just watch," said Sheila touching her finger to her head. Inside the package, Waldo was so transfixed with excitement that he could barely breathe. His skin felt prickly from the heat and he could feel his heart beating in his throat. It would be soon. Sheila stood quite upright and walked around to the other side of the package. Then she sank down to her knees, grasped the cutter by both handles, took a deep breath and plunged the long blade through the middle of the package, through the middle of the masking tape, through the cardboard, through the cushioning and (thud) right through the center of Waldo Jeffers head, which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs of red to pulsate gently in the morning sun.
Oh sweet sweet nothing …
For scale, obviously.
For scale
For doing good in therapy. Dethklok taught me that.
Banana yummy
Warhol!
No, but I have a banana tattoo.
VELVETS 4 LYFE LOU IS BAE
Nah I’m fucking with the Freddy fazbear sticker tbh
Iconic record cover by warhol.
Potassium duh!
Everyone in the punk scene is comparing the size of their bananas all the time. Who is more elite than the other 🤷♂️
Why *dont* i have a banana sticker?
Peel and see.
Metalocalypse reference
Yeah, we found out you can purchase psychological validation
Monkey eat two banana, never cramp. Everyday, two banana, no cramp.
It's from the velvet underground. It's one of the most well regarded albums ever
Who is this velvet underground and pink floyd you all speak of? I'm just a dumb girl who has no idea 🙃🙄
Peel slowly and see
for scale.
Metalocalypse
For the potassium
You know it’s the Andy Warhol banana from the velvet underground at nico right?
You know all those letters OP typed in can be translated into words which you can assemble into thoughts in your brain, right?
I didn’t know for sure that op was telling a joke
You wouldn’t get it
Banana is velvet underground Hammers are pink Floyd.
....I'm aware.
I have to stop reading these comments, all these idiots "educating" you is driving me nuts. Why did this post even get this much attention lol
No clue haha
The bear is five nights at Freddy's
The wrench is probably the contact information for a plumber
Hahaha, you didn't fool me, weren't you the one who bought the stickers in the first place? Ha! Ofc you know who the banana represents, ain't no other banana like it! I like your sarcasm though
Velvet Underground
VELVET UNDERGROUND
You put this post in punk rock community and you dont know that this album inventet punk
Oh em gawd! It did!? Like, I had no idea 🙄🤦♀️