We Are All Machines

Pipé Scuttleworth presents..."Faking Work Making This Mix Mix."

2011-02-24T09:53:00.000-08:00

Life, at its grandest, surpasses all definition of sublime. The depths of winter, however, with the god damn snow and blackened slush and 6:00 mornings and the monotony of grey cannot be understated in its oppressiveness.

Get music to the label. Call your mother. Work? Fuck work (I mean seriously, if quit smoking and drinking whiskey and you want me to tone the language down, at least leave me my f-bombs for work)!
Babies need attention, wives need food to feed babies, babies need to be entertained until moms can get to babies for the mere hour they have together. Multiplied, aggregated, repeated.

As I was saying, as your dream eyes descend that debit column, tallying all that hubbub needed for today, this day, you begin to feel the dull ache rising from your heels. The beady red eyes of the alarm clock gaze at you violently like a lurking thief, patiently waiting for the pinnacle of dark to rob you of your final precious minutes before the day's onslaught, just before night gives way to the faint gray of yet another sunless day.

Coffee, shower, kisses, bag, car, work, car, bag, kisses, food. Multiplied, aggregated, repeated. Sans wife, sans baby, the song remains the same, only in a different key...coffee, shower, weather report/sports center/bagel, brief case/purse, car/train/walk, WORK, car/train/walk, brief case/purse, drinks, maybe food. Multiplied, aggregated, repeated. With no intent to dredge up buried angst or intensify the preexistence of an undoubted and collective case of seasonal affective disorder, yet with every intent to instill the desire to seize the moments that give worth to it all, I make music. I blend records to my will, sometimes with clarity, often with a novice hand. I fashion rhythm sections that make me sway. I listen to songs that make me feel happy that music exists and that I have the freedom to chuck the garbage out of the window and to create my own music into an amalgam of fragments from the subconscious of a childhood spent glued to a substantive MTV and my adult experiences with the rarest of musical excavations from locales exotique and domestic.

Outside of a show, I once heard an acquaintance of a mutual friend explain to me why our friend made music. The aquaintance said, "Ryan makes music because he needs to, not because he wants to. If he didn't, he would probably murder someone." I am not hyperbolic when I assent to this definition in totality.

With that, I present to you a mix. It is not the most technical that I have ever made, nor is it the most soulful. It is, though, at base, totally me. Enjoy. Click Here To Download These Prime Cuts

Dreamend - So I Ate Myself Bit By Bit

2010-09-27T12:24:00.000-07:00

     Ryan Graveface, a quiet and modest young man, has just released his newest Dreamend album, “So I Ate Myself Bit By Bit (SIAMBBB),” and what a fine work it is. Graveface, Dreamend’s prime architect, is also the mastermind of Graveface Records. Additionally, Graveface is an integral part of Black Moth Super Rainbow (BMSR), of which you may have heard. What is of major import is the substantive quality of Graveface’s work as Dreamend on SIAMBBB. This concept album brings to fruition the aural incarnation of a supposed serial killer’s diary, which Graveface allegedly purchased at auction some years back. The shadowy circumstances and hearsay of murder surrounding this release only adds to the album’s mysterious nature, a nature that exudes ethereal eeriness and cuts to the bone like the fog of pre-dawn tall tale-ing at the ol’ lake house.

     Lest previously cemented notions or expectations from either Graveface Record’s back catalogue or by BMSR sway you, rest assured, SIAMBBB stands, firmly balanced, all on its own. Inevitably, there are those who will prematurely draw comparisons to BMSR. Certainly, successive Black Moth member solo releases further demonstrate each player’s individual styles. These solo divergences serve not only to illuminate each member’s discreet, yet familiar, bases of contributions to the merged BMSR sound but also highlight individual talents in a “pre-formed Voltronic” sense. In fact, while Graveface’s style is immediately apparent it also shines like a lighthouse beacon in the rising for of an autumn eve.

     While Dreamend’s newest release is a prime example of that piecemeal sound, this album exceeds expectation and displays a soulfulness one is unlikely to expect from an album whose basis lays in serial murder. Most striking were the transient thoughts, ebbing and flowing throughout my listen, of John Wayne Gacy, Steve Martin, Sufjan Stevens, and myriad other seemingly disparate source materials summoning intangibly delightful emotions.

     Where the BMSR connection truly emerges is in the production of the established BMSR/Dreamend high quality lo-fi sound. While critics argue that production style seems substantively tenuous, it ascends to the role of ‘band member’ adding richness and texture. This album sounds, at times, as if Dreamend hand cranked tones through a phonoautograph, pushing the sound thorough blown speakers, underwater, through two tin cans. It whirls in twangy and hollow modulation; instantaneously harkening Graveface’s singularly identifiable banjo and guitar melodies from BMSR’s “Eating Us.” The crackly vocals, similarly, add an authenticity that is at once foreign and recognizable.

     This album’s conceptual nature and being a musical iteration of a deliberate tale caused me to focus with greater attention to the story’s details, track by track. Thus it seems appropriate to review the album as I listened to it and as, I assume, it was intended to be listened to.

CHAPTER I

“Pink Cloud In the Woods” introduces some, or rather assists some in the regression, to the campfires of youth. Cicadas chirp and embers pop and the humidity and smoke are palpable. Unbeknownst to what is in store only increases the psychic devastation of what is to come. The snare begins to brush and the wispy banjo, daintily picked, gently sweeps us into a whirlwind that ultimately cannot be undone. I forget, momentarily, that I am listening to music and, based on my research of the album’s origins, begin to feel complicit in something frighteningly foreign.

CHAPTER II

The breathy organs of “Where you belong” swell the general tone of a pleasant progression. I allow myself to be continually misled through an air of happiness. I can taste the sun of July Saturdays in 1993 while I listen to this song. This nostalgia further overwhelms my senses, gleefully disorienting me for what follows.

CHAPTER III

“Magnesium Light” is as brilliant as its namesake and stands out as exemplar even amongst SIAMBBB’s best offerings. The phased swirls paint cracked orange loops which form a blurred vision of our greatest star. This is tantamount to staring at the sun from an active merry-go-round. Never have I been so susceptible to the hypnotic abilities of creepy modern folk music, which incidentally is meant in the most flattering of ways.

The combination of reverberating twang and alliterating vocals “I looked at the sky today and said, I said hey ah and I looked in your eyes today and said I said hey ah. I looked at the stars tonight and said, I said don’t go, I looked at the stars tonight and said, I said don’t go away,” are a culmination of compounded joy brought on by the album’s opening tracks. This happiness, which as we soon see was induced with purpose, fades like the accuracy of distant memories. If by design, this is extremely clever.

CHAPTER IV

“Interlude” serves as a frequency-oscillated transition from a brightly shimmering place of tranquility to mentally deep decrepitude from which one can never return. In retrospect “Magnesium Light” and “Interlude” are forceful reminders of how quickly contentment may be dulled by a single moment of reality. “Interlude” is a descent into madness, obsession, violence, and ultimately unending torment resulting in the ultimate corporeal cessation, death.

CHAPTER V

Guilt seeps from “Repent” in tangible drips of emptiness and loss. The slow guitar picking, sparse bells, and harmonies are a sound of sorrowful beauty. Any living being may have difficulty listening to this track without evoking some type of depressive teenage empathy and feelings of failure, or worse yet, depressive adult empathy. Art of this variety is evocative and bittersweet, successful in rousing emotion, for better or, here, for worse.

CHAPTER VI

“A Thought” conjures dark, fuzzy wizardry and instills feelings of deep concern and paranoia. Repeating “I cannot, I cannot, stop in the middle,” this must absolutely describe the obsessive inability to willfully cease a deeply engaged behavior. This is the clearest, and most disturbingly direct, example of this concept album’s stated theme. This track is effective in its simplicity and I listen through cupped hands as a child watches a horror movie, through barely spread fingers.

CHAPTER VII

“Pieces” embodies desperation and behaves as a deep-seated terror would, managing to push deeper the floor of we once believed rock bottom to be. For that reason “Pieces” robs the title of “most despicable Dreamend song” from “A Thought.” Mind you, this is a beautifully crafted robbery, which in this story telling incarnation is hopefully without victim.

Following directly from the hypnotic fury and an uncontrollable zone of purposeful monotony of “A Thought,” “Pieces” snap you from the act violence suddenly into a stroll through a summer’s lane, raising spirits only to crush them along with bone and sinew.

CHAPTER VIII

     “My Old Brittle Bones” perpetuates the longing developed in the album’s second half. Graveface wails “And I wait and I wait and I wait for you, like you waited, and waited and waited here for me. And one day and one day I’ll be set free, but your ghost oh your ghost, oh your ghost it will find me.” These are the words of a victim embracing death thereby transforming into a taunting force of vengeance from beyond the grave.

     Whether or not this voice, I imagine as a disembodied force of supernatural origin, is within the killer’s mind or independent of the murderer, is of little importance in the grand scheme. A song of repentance, the bewilderment of what has recently transpired draws little sympathy for the protagonist. The story and Graveface’s falsetto vie for my attention, but neither wins.

     This battle for my graces is disturbingly peppy for its content yet I am distracted, longingly awaiting the next chapter in the story. How wonderful to have immediate concern for mental safety outweighed by the curiosity of what follows.

CHAPTER IX

Aching Silence, in my estimation, is an attempt by the killer to explain his poor lot in life. His aim, trying to convince us that he is not truly the abhorrent thing of which we are absolutely certain he is. The arpegiated ghostly twitches pulse and further aggravate our perception of the killer. Again, I know not whether these notions originate in the mind of from beyond the grave. Is this the voice of the truly dead or the almost dead as a result of psychic numbness from within?

CHAPTER X

     As the story winds up, the killer describes, in sufficient detail, the lifeless, bullet ridden, and soon to be dismembered corpse of his victim. “An Admission” ends with grumbling bass and has a frenetic pace throughout, emulating the end of a horrific tale. Yet again, the album’s theme is the unfathomable violence of humans and the constant battle within a madman’s mind.

     The dilemma here is to hate the actor while being enchanted with the beauty of the music. In this respect, Graveface succeeds immensely. I am mesmerized and disgusted throughout the album. The timbre forces regressions to youthful frivolity yet the words are horrifying. The album evokes a spectrum of feelings. Never would I have suspected this type of fare from the label, had I not been a supporter of Graveface records for such an extended time, particularly since this is less in your face psychedelia than those works that brought initially drew me to the label. However, I implore you to listen to this album, actively. You will be a richer, and possibly, more conscientious person, two qualities most people will do well by to deepen.

      Support Graveface, browse the new releases catalogue, and purchase Dreamend records here...http://graveface.com/nr.html

Pink Skull - Endless Bummer on RVNG.

2010-07-25T14:00:00.000-07:00

Holy smokes and Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, dance music is alive and well. If only Charles Darwin were alive to witness the inception, refinement, and never ending evolution of what originated as 4 x 4 Berlin-Detroit machine music; he’d flip his wig. Well here we have it folks, the synthesis of indie rock, no-wave, techno, and dance punk from our friends at RVNG Matt and Josh.

Like my mama always said, “anything worth doing, is worth doing right.” Well bubba, RVNG releases quality product, and nothing bears that sign more proudly, in my opinion, than Pink Skull’s “Endless Bummer.” While, Pink Skull has hit us with mini-nuggets of wonder, “Endless Bummer” is their first full length and a helluva go, to be sure. For Christ’s sake, for a limited time you could even customize the album cover for a nominal fee. Much to my brother’s chagrin, our copies read “Can’t Keep A Pompa Down.” Brilliant! No matter, the first track, “Peter Cushing” (synonymous with Star War’s Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin for a generation, and you know who you are) with its lofty flute and Liquid Liquid-esque live bass line makes you want to muddle home-made cocktails on a warm summer’s eve and get into it. The funs don’t stop there though, homey. The second track (a-side), “Chicken Dream Inside Egg” is a show-stopping, panty-dropping straight up indie-house hit with a subtle shuffle and a catchy “Boo Doo Dee Dah Dah Dah Dah” vocal. This track compels otherwise skinny boys to grab the closest babe in short shorts on the dance floor and whisk the night away. The reversed bass, in selected sections, combined with the reverb guitar twangs and Saxaphone scream, “two men enter, one man leaves,” with its refined jazziness and raw juiciness.

From here the album progresses to straight up weirdness, but in a loveable electro-dancey way. Imagine Human League, Tina Turner, Stars of The Lid, and the Rapture huddled around a makeshift table made from a piece of plywood and a used keg at a Larry Levan loft party and you’re growing ever so close to an idea of what this album aspires to, and often achieves.

B-Sides, baby, that’s where it’s really at after all, and this one done brought it. “Endless Bummer” shakes the rafters. It jangles with its minor key synths and simplistic bass, but the twitch-glitchiness, acidy synths and the track’s tweaked Laurent Garnier inspired sax screams “take my to the rave.” “Oh, Monorail” follows with a funky underpinning and its rhythmic vocals force you to dig out your old EMF and Jesus Jones records and scour those little bastards for their inevitable redeeming qualities. After all, mid 90’s electronic forays were the basis for where you are now, like it or not.

Why stop here, right? You want to know as much about this damn record as you can before you spend them hard earned greenbacks, yes? “Fast Forward Bolivia” begins with a combo of Indian screeches that sound like Prince Rama fighting with R2-D2 at Altamont (WTF, we’re already invoking Grand Moff Tarkin, what’s a droid or two?) ending in a psychedelic stew of flautisto terrorism, Native dance, and delay that smacks of awesome. Still reeling from the Charlie horses from dancing my ass off, I finish the album the way music is supposed to be listened to, which is as the artist conceived it and in the order conceived. Nevertheless, I am taken aback at “The Inconsiderate Neighbor” and “Fired, So Fired.” While not the strongest of finishes, I forgive Pink Skulls like you forgive your best friend for asking if you’re still dating that high-school sweetheart he knew you were still into. Bittersweet, yes! However, it didn’t really matter too much because he was, in total, way cooler than she ever was. These last two songs are that girl, and the album, your best friend. We can all dig deep to forgive minor shortcomings, when what lasts is infinitely more memorable. The Skulls are Pink. Long Live The Skulls.

Oh, yes, lest I not forget, the digital download comes with three additional tracks… “Gonzo's Cointreau,” “When Falling Straight Through A Goat” and, in my opinion, the most magnificent “Several French Revolutionaries Standing on the Back of My Neck.” “Several French Revolutionaries Standing on the Back of My Neck” is creepy and beautiful and frightening and despite numerous requests by your author to the label is still unscheduled for pressing to vinyl. However, I shall remain persistent in this endeavor. Until then, let Julian Grefe and Justin Geller dazzle you with their fantastic skills as Pink Skull.

Buy the 12" or digitals from RVNG. here

Magic Lantern - Platoon on Not Not Fun Records

2010-07-25T13:58:00.000-07:00

What the funk? ”Maggot Brain,” was, is, and will arguably forever be an unparalleled bundle of tremendous funk. Indeed, as a result, I would be forsaking my duty to proselytize the good word of music that isn’t rubbish, if I did not beseech you to dive into Magic Lantern’s hazy bucket of tar -“Platoon.” Clinton it ain’t, but “Platoon” strives for, and hits dangerously close to, the benchmark heart of true funk.

Sans any real vocal track “Platoon,” picks up where “Maggot Brain” slowly fuzzed out and I am in love with it. The opener – “Dark Cicadas” - is so frigging fonky that my mind could not override my lower appendages from shucking and jiving. The sultry “Moon Lagoon Platoon” conjures images of the ubiquitous Vietnam film scene where the wayward soldiers blow off steam before heading back into the ”shit,” painting imagery as thick as chilled Jager shots in the jungle night.

If I hadn’t snatched the record from the new releases stack, I’d have sworn sideways that it was a human impossibility that this ill sludge had been recorded after 1973 or 1976 (maybe). Guitars and organs twitch and crescendo and heavy waves reverberate through warm analog tubes. Unlike previous releases, this album is much darker and has a narrower focus. This business is as dark as pre-Christian Samhain rituals on the solstice - just oozing with sludgy psychedelic funk.

Now, I know cats are slinging the word “psychedelic” around like pre-pubescent girls talking about “Justin Beiber” at the “American Girl” Store, but Lantern has earned the title through funk, sweat, and tears. Fret not though, children, this is not sloppy psy-funk, but truly mind-bending, old school, organic bad-assery. Note band images, easily culled from the network, and you will see these lads, heads bent and shoegazing - not at their pedals (though one can imagine the magnitude of incessant toe tapping that must occur to produce this fog) - but as a result of being totally zoned into the ethereal. These corporeal vessels channel, rather than just merely produce, slurries of face-melting rhythms.

Now “Platoon” is Magic Lantern’s most recent 12” following a series of cassette and limited pressings and displays a stoic maturation. Prior releases ran the stylistic gamut from dub, prog, Kosmiche-pastiche, drone, and various other elements on a song-by-song basis. Here however, Magic Lantern fuses, successfully in most instances, varying elements within each song’s loose borders. For example, in lieu of an arguably unbridled jam out on “At the Mountain of Madness” (containing a b-side of Warholian noise art reminiscent at times of Stephen Stapleton’s NWW works) the band has honed their compositional craft on “Platoon.” Yet another example of their tighter, new direction, presents itself upon listening to their album “High Beams” followed immediately by “Platoon,” both on Not Not Fun Records, incidentally. On the one hand, “High Beams” varies from sounding like a Can homage on “Vampires in Heat” or older Pelican on “Deathshead Hawkmoth,” while “Platoon” cruises consistently throughout the album with an enticing but violent calm. “Platoon’s” B-side contains two tracks that, together, run a healthy 20 minutes plus. “On The Dime” maintains the solid groove of the album while amping up guitar stabs and organ wizardry. On “On the Dime” Chip Knechtel and Gavin Fort blast their gear, drums and bass respectively, into a sonic flow like a river of mud and sound very much like Mitch Mitchell and Noel Redding doing what they did for James. These are the raw materials that you wished Bristol junglists would use to fashion their own tracks. Finally, while “Friendship’s” guitars now share headspace with eerie horns and what can only be described as some bizarre East-Asian clarion call to things that can result in no good. The track never relents on trying to bury you in the thickness. Here, Magic Lantern sinks deeper into the abyss, oozing sludgy funk. The reverb machine is still cranking overtime but the gears and pistons have been power cleaned and re-lubricated.

This album howls and snarls and creeps clandestinely into your mind. The mayhem inducing chugginess must be what it’s like to wake up in your barn, clothing tattered, only to find out that you have no recollection of last night’s events and that your village has been ransacked by a wolf-monster that dispatches groups of armed townspeople in short order. Yeah, it’s that heavy. Get lost and enjoy.

Buy is straight from the Not Not Fun Label on Cd or Vinyl here.

Javelin - No Mas on Luaka Bop

2010-07-25T13:56:00.000-07:00

Not too shabby for a mid-day impulse buy, especially considering the three deep bloody Mary perspective from whence I made the trade of dollars for vinyl. How the hell could I refrain? After all, the cover has a Kris Kristofferson looking apparition with snow leopards pouncing from a mountain of ice behind ol’ Kris’ face. Mind you, this is all before an actual listen to this album, nay, even before ever hearing nary a whimper of cousins George Langford and Tom Van Buskirk, purveyors of reigned weirdness that is actually perfectly far out music for kids. One can’t even begin to imagine the joy of hearing the wildly varying contents within.

“No Mas” glides out on the good foot with a hazy down tempo, distilled embodiment of the feelings one has of summer mornings before the big trip to an amusement park or the “festival of the season.” Surely, you can empathize with the spirit of “Vibrationz.” You can’t sleep the night before so you anxiously toss back can after can of PBR dreaming of what the weekend may hold. From the jump off, the listener believes, incorrectly, that what they hold in their hot little hands is the typical Luaka Bop fare--- (after all, sometimes you buy by label, and sometimes you gamble and lose)-- worldly drenched amalgams ranging from East India to Chile. Alas, Javelin is sufficiently savvy to anticipate that expectation, and pitches several delightful, and yes, a few sometimes predictable, curves. For example, “Oh Centra,” a little ditty previously released on Lal Lal Lal, with its sub bass funkiness and its almost offensive Alvin and the Chimpmunk-esque pitched vocals manages to endear the listener, perhaps for its Salt-n-Peppa bass break, but maybe just because it’s cool, whether you care to admit it or not.

Anyway, brethren, the constant dynamism tends to give “No Mas” the aura of lacking focus, but on the positive, samples out Javelin’s warez as though they were a tag-team, compilation machine. Hell, that’s why I bought it. I inquired as to what was playing, on my weekly binging spree, and mistakenly thinking that it was several different artists, was politely corrected…”Nah man, it’s Javelin.” Ignorant me, it sounded like a Numero Group release, followed by Basement Jaxx, and then as I zoned back in from an impenetrable wander through the experimental section, something Motown sounding. Well, now you know why it was an impulse buy, but I digress.

Now, after aurally consuming some of their earlier releases, as we junkies are oft known to do, this album seems polished, like boots at the airport. Yes, the hiss and fuzz and lo-fi, which we’ve all grown to love, has been toned down, but in the most loveliest of ways, and not all that much. If you need proof, come to my basement and listen to “We Ah Wi” as we shimmy and shake,

So, to avoid any implications of impropriety and to be thorough in my job, it’s only fair that I address the B-side as well. As if the variation on the first side weren’t ample, “Moscow 1980” sounds like M83 and Luomo’s love child dancing in a field of daisies and synthesizers, in a pure electro-pop heaven, sliding you off into a personal Indian Summer day dream. Further progressing on a similar trajectory, though seemingly divergent, the late 60’s funk style “The Merkin Jerk” continues on the quest for the ultimate dreaminess. Here, however, the day dream is more of a Haight-Ashbury thing, and, unfortunately, seems incomplete, leaving the listener wondering if the remainder was stashed in a retro-future time capsule or if someone accidentally smoked it.

To round out the series of, what I believe to be, a fairly thorough first LP proper, are the monotonous “C Town,” the ersatz chamber music and xylophonic “Off My Mind,” the back-track for a Mos Def-like interlude, “Susie Cues” (sure to become an effective transition for the DJs and producers out there), and several more, which deserve their own treatment. “Shadow Heart” and “DEP,” in particular, invoke a longing and homesickness for the corridor, because of their likeness to Motown and P-Funk throwbacks that seem to age gracefully, gaining rather than loosing flavor. In fact, I’d wished that my friends were with me here as I pen this piece. Yet, my worries are short-lived, for if you are concerned with my opinion, than we too are friends, and sharing with you is tantamount to being with friends near and far. It is for this reason, the warmth inducing familiarity of an old friend that this album conjures, that you should give this record a listen. After you have well spent those 80 plus minutes, you too will be a convert to Javelin’s diversity and wit.

I can't stand it anymore more!

2010-04-22T07:54:00.000-07:00

Oh, Lou Reed. What I love most about Lou Reed is that, whether he internalized his true feelings or not, he never really appeared to give a good God Damn about what anyone thought of him. How could one possibly think that he did? An often drugged out, New York gay who spoke-sang, but not really, fronting a so-called Avant Garde, noise band with classically trained and not-at-all trained musicians. Friend of Warhol. All around freaky weirdo. Fantastic!

I appreciate, what I believe to be, the man's aspirations to make his brand of sonic art without care for, ostensibly, anything. Perhaps he was an ego-maniacal jack-ass. That fact is moot. It is my perception of the quality of the man's principles that guides, and inspires, my reverie.

So, why am I talking about Lou Reed? Get comfy, because explaining, in detail, my thought process, can be somewhat involved. Obviously, it's involved.

My intention was to re-start my writings, for the one hundred and fifty second time, with a 'one a week' theme. The 'one a week' theme being that I should write, at the very least, once a week, surprising yes? Mind you, more is better. Once a week is the base.

Could I do this, should I? Maybe more opportunity, professional and personal, would spring forth from my creative expenditures. If only I could create with more frequency and without the constant intrusion of work. In either case, I decided to start writing at the exact moment that I did, this morning, out of sheer frustration with the incompetent, busy-bodies with whom I work. These interlopers have counterparts everywhere and are similar in substance to your co-workers that burgle your time in like manner.

Nevertheless, when I thought about writing, at that exact moment, a vision of Lou popped into my head, jeans, leather, and all, singing "I can't stand it anymore, more." Thus, in my extremely round about synaptic firings, we progress from the theme of being exhausted by office politics, to music, to writing, to explaining it all. Little doubt that I find a way to bring everything back to music, as it is my belief that life is music, and vice-versa.

In any case, this whole attempt of explaining my process is... well, cathartic, and didactic. It purges the negativity within, simply by removing the thoughts from mind, placing them in some medium. Further, explanation elaborates and memorializes my thought patterns, from which I can later glean life-improving facts and lessons, hopefully.

Furthermore, I am a disciple of a particular school of thought, followed by others, I am sure, that posits the creation of art begets the creation of art, i.e., the more you do, the more you will do. So, now that I think of it, "I can't stand it anymore more" applies to both my inability to suffer my co-worker's ineptitude and meddling as well as my failures to develop a routine for creating art. Both problems which I have temporarily solved merely by expunging these thoughts. Jerks =0, Me = 1.

Shower Acoustics Are Magnificent

2009-11-09T15:14:00.000-08:00

Chocolates are peanuts and I am the Elephant. This is not unlike "your ass is grass, and I am the lawnmower." However, I do not eat the chocolate to sustain my system. I consume the chocolates for the vivid dreams they provide. Delicious chocolates.

My skin feels like Ned Flanders ski one piece..."it feels like I am wearing nothin' at all." Despite many consecutive days of feverish consumption of art and music, more days lie ahead. If I may courageously cut a swath through these unparalleled days of evil that stand before me and party, I may, once again, revel in the arts.

Until then, I provide this aural shield to ward of ghouls and other psychic, day walking, vampires. May you wield it well, always. You may download this shield here... http://www.zshare.net/audio/682407948d4349a4/

Also, a shout out to my dear friend Charles. "May your magnets never lose their power."

P.S. The shield components are listed below...

Logarythm Presente: EN:NO Musique/Jonas Bering From the nape of the neck
Mo's Ferry Prod. presents Luka & lazo-MidEvil Disko E.P. Cutfather
Jackmate -Tapeworms
Kid Scientific - Lovelife
Casey Hogan- Rotation
Brennan Green & Daniel Wang - Electrokution
Luomo w/ Raz O Hara- Give it away
Disco Dream and the Androids - The Dream Machine
Lipps- Funky Town
Chicago - Street Player
Commodores- Machine Gun
Heib - Cargo
United Artists E.P. - Irwin Leschet
Meta.83- Tanzstudie
Gary Numan- Cars
Shriekback - All Lined Up
Air Frog- Bon Voyage
Higamos Hogamos- Major Blitzkreig Depth Charge Buzzer Remix
Thomas Dolby- One of Our Submarines
Rob Acid- After Club
Some Weird Glitch?
Prefuse Does the Books - Ocho w/ Claudia Maria Deheza

UB40? Seriously? Yes, Seriously. Jungle Love.

2009-10-14T14:01:00.000-07:00

It must have been late 1994 or early 1995 that I copped a cassette single of "I Can't Help Falling In Love With You" by UB40. From whom or where I acquired this cassette is a memory that I no longer have. In any case, "I Can't Help" is not a particularly interesting song and it's quality is questionable.

What is of note, is the single's b-side. To a drum 'n' bass enthusiast, or what was at the time considered 'Jungle,' as a blanket term, despite whatever it may be described as now, this b-side was fantastical. Even having gained some 12 to 14 years of musical experience, this track is still quite bad-ass. It has some cheesy elements of that old acid techno (think James Brown is dead) and seems rather rudimentary, but come on, this is UB40 we are talking about.

Nevertheless, there were many afternoons and evenings spent cruising around Detroit in a green, Ford Escort, wagon blasting this cassette, over and over. Even Windsor had the profound joy of experiencing this UB40 track on occasion.

Anyway, I have been scouring the planet and networks for this damn little track for some time. I have finally discovered this track, no insignificant feat for a track hunter bordering on the deviant, like myself. If you don't share my enthusiasm for this ditty, restrain yourself and hold your thought, I don't much care.

Take a listen to "Jungle Love" by UB40 at this link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7TqbXMZBLlo

Here Come The Warm Jets

2009-09-02T09:20:00.000-07:00

Brian Eno produced an album in 1973 entitled "Here Come The Warm Jets." This album was released on Island Records and was Eno's first solo album following his stint in Roxy Music.

The album combines glam and progressive rock and, in my opinion, foreshadows Eno's foray into ambient and electronic art forms of music.

Several other artists that played on this album, including Robert Fripp, went on to create names for themselves in other aspects of experimental rock. Rock that, despite coming years before the rock that would inspire post-rock, is essentially pre-rock post-rock, to get non-linearly metaphysical.

These songs seem absolutely timeless and, if one was not aware of when it was released, could easily be deemed to have been created in a basement studio last week. Absolutely brilliant stuff.

Take a listen to "here come the warm jets," from the album "here come the warm jets," at the following link...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iP-RFsuv-8Q or take a look and listen here

Festival Musica Electronica Latina 2009 and Inspiration

2009-08-28T07:38:00.000-07:00

Hoy, This Day, Today, I sit here, drafting these words, a rejuvenated man. The FMEL, or Festival Musica Electronica Latina (Latino Electronic Music Festival), began last eve. The Chicago Cultural Center hosted the kick-of events, and kicked it off they did.

To begin, the Theater in the Chicago Cultural Center is a marvelously wondrous venue to host any event. However, to have seen Balún, the opening act, in this theater was magical. The lights and music, together, proved to be quite a moving experience, and a welcome surprise to say the least. More on this further on.

I hadn't the slightest idea that this type of thing existed. To admit that fact is somewhat embarrassing for reasons twofold. First, I have been neglecting my Mexican heritage. Secondly, I consider myself a ravenous consumer of music. In fact, music is, arguably, the only 'thing' that i truly spend my money on. Nevertheless, I fortuitously came across a copy of Extra, a bilingual Chicago magazine. It comes as no surprise that the "Electronic Music Festival" tag line captured my eye. Thus, I grabbed the rag and told my wife, "I am going to this, all of it."

So, Thursday night, I grabbed the journal, a knapsack, and the umbrella and headed down to the Cultural Center. Very few people were in the theater when I arrived. However, Balún was warming up when I entered. If their set-up portended the night's events, I thought, this rainy eve was sure to entertain, delight, and inspire. As it came to pass, most of the people in the room, when I arrived, were to serve on the panel that evening, and/or play at the evening showcases. The panel consisted of the following people (and I will give a brief description of each), from left to right. This seemingly useless bit of information may or may not be important, yet it seemed to effect the discussion.

1) Angel Sanchez Borges from Otrasmusicas.org- This man is quite intriguing. He began the evening speaking English, and then switched to Spanish. I understood, more or less, everything. I actually found it easier to follow while he spoke Spanish. Understanding less language from fuller ideas trumps understanding more from thinner conveyances, if that makes sense. He had Enrique translate for him, stating "I have a hangover and it's just much easier for me to think in Spanish." Though Enrique did translate quite well, much was lost.

Nevertheless, I did not know what to expect from Angel. He appeared to be quite uneasy with some of the topics and, thus, a bit aloof. I hadn't been aware that he would be performing.

When he took the stage with compatriot drummer, after Balún, they blew my mind. Sadly, I did not catch the drummer’s name. If anyone knows, please, hit me up. I am unsure whether Angel alone is 'Antiquo Autómata Mexicano,' or whether this is his collaboration with the drummer. Despite my ignorance I was thoroughly impressed with the music. The visuals added much to the experience. Angel, stood face to face with his drummer, only the machine and the drums separating them. Behind the two was an orange, white, any yellow mix of semicircular digital images swirling about as they performed was stunning.

The music, and I apologize for the comparisons, reminded me a combination of old acid-jazz from the Irma label, and Trans Am without guitars, and Can's droniness. At moments, the music provided such sparseness that the immediacy of moments of chaos was arresting. I am very much looking forward to purchasing AAM compact discs at the National Museum of Mexican Arts tonight. Had I planned appropriately, I would have attended with more funds. Striking and lovely music continued throughout the event.

2) Enrique Jimenez 'Ejival' from Statico Discos in Tijuana. A border town man uniquely situated to participate in three different cultures. Enrique is a product of American, Mexican, and pidgin culture indigenous to border towns the world over. I have not yet had an opportunity to listen to any Statico Discos artists live. However, Enrique did provide a drop card with a free download mixset by Cubenx entitled Blended Stock. I am downloading this mix as we speak and can barely contain my excitement of all of these new discoveries. Qué Felicidades!

P.S. It appears as though Enrique is distributing AAM's newest album 'Chez Nobobdy.' This was the album I wanted to purchase last night, and that I will purchase today. Again, I am overflowing with anticipation to dig through these sites. Check it out here...http://www.staticdiscos.com/

P.P.S. Enrique has for our aural pleasures provided a free mix set by Cubenx, which I mentioned above. What I did forget to mention is that y'all can download it as well at www.staticodiscos.com/blendedstock.

3) Nohemi Rodriquez from Verdigris also in Tijuana, and I believe, Enrique's wife. Verdigris is, the sister label to Statico Discos, and apparently a more 'feminine,' in Nohemi's words, label. I am quite curious to listen to their music. This woman beamed goodness and wore a wide smile the entire evening. She reminded me why I love music so much and the joy that a music discussion can bring. Here is the link to the Static blog...http://www.staticdiscos.com/blog/

If she can direct me to where I may find some of that Verdigris 'good stuff' I will be more than happy to go to that site, otherwise I will begin digging later. Gracias.

4) Manrico Montero Calzadiaz from Mandorla Records in Distrito Federal (D.F. or Mexico City). What can I say about this man? Clearly, Manrico reads much in the English language. While he is certainly used to speaking in his mother tongue, his grasp of English vocabulary and its nuances is superb. Manrico, just with a cursory glance of his site...http://www.manricomontero.com/index.php?/project/news/... produces and lives in the vein of Can, Neu, Hendrix, Stephen Stapleton, Genesis Porridge and their ilk.

As concerned with life as art as much as he is with the construction of sounds, his site is awash in photographs, links to sounds, etcetera. Decidedly, I am attending his performance this eve. I am yet unsure whether life imitates Manrico or Manrico imitates life. I will not expect anything, but if this is what I believe it will be, it should be illegal for Manrico, the milanesa at Nuevo Leon, and the rotating art installations at the National Museum of Mexican Arts to be in the same vicinity at the same time.

For more of his music check his myspace page at...http://www.myspace.com/mandorlalabel

In addition, check out a distributor of his music, Klangstaub, at http://klangstaub.com/shop/index.php?main_page=checkout_success

5) Luis Flores from Antenna Discos - Monterrey, Nuevo Leon. There is a special place in my heart for Monterrey because my Pops hails from there, Nuevo Leon, what, what? Anyway, I have to get a card with his information on Saturday night at Sonotheque. Hells yes. I am very excited to see this man play and hope that he is in attendance tonight so that we may engage in some jocular banter sobre los adentros y afueras de musica electronica.

Now then, these folks discussed the difficulties in extending awareness and delivering their music to a wider variety then merely the locals involved in their individual scenes. With the exception of Manrico, the group seemed to lament not only the lack of awareness of their music outside of Mexico and even their limited spheres but also the lack of social and governmental support of their music. Angel, in particular, made comparisons of the business community in Catalan supporting musicians and artists in an attempt to attract the Olympics to their city. He also made mention of hosting festivals live Sonar to generate finances for the city and how governments, business leaders, and social groups support these types of events and how this is lacking in Mexico throughout. This fact was reiterated to some extent by Luis and Enrique, however, in my opinion; this may not be the only answer.

For example, I am unsure if the Detroit Electronic Music Festival, while supported by the City, generates much revenue for it at all. If this festival generates revenue for Detroit, I don't see it, personally. Also, who knows how much support there is for DEMF, but people make it happen. My complaint is this, if these talented Mexican artists are making music like what I heard last night, and expect to hear for the remainder of the weekend, why aren't they playing at DEMF?

It is the lack of exposure for these Mexicanos? Is it Detroit promoter’s failure to look much beyond Germany and Montreal for non-Detroit artists, or even Detroit for that matter? Is it lack of communication? What is it?

The panel made mention that their projects became lost in the greater festivals when they participated in the past. In response to this, any publicity is good publicity when you are looking to expand your listener ship. However, expansion should not come at the cost of the artist's integrity. I myself would find it to be fantastic to see a greater diversity of international artists at festivals like DEMF or Mutek. Furthermore, while jacking-ass, face melting techno has its place in my heart and within the overreaching lexicon of electronic music, it need't be promoted at the expense of other types of electronic music, but rather together. If you love, we love, I love electronic music I should not be made to cannibalize electronic music for the sake of Detroit techno, or Chicago House, or New York IDM, or Argentine tango-electronica, or Mexican Nortec, or German Tech-House. You get the point.

What is the prohibitive variable that prevents artists coming together, playing together, forming alliances, and moving forward to evolve electronic music? It certainly must be the inability for us all to communicate instantaneously, or the lack of means to cross the Atlantic Ocean, or perhaps the language barrier. You see how ridiculous these excuses can be. Primarily, my hope and expectation is to open dialogue. Secondly, I wish to play out more and produce more music. Thirdly, I plan to make connections with artists whose music I enjoy and would like to hear and play with. Finally, by doing those things, we can expand the range of music we hear and decrease the perception that the community is insurmountably vast.

That being said, a supremely high note for me was Balún's performance. Secretly wishing for everything and hoping for nothing is my creed, and has been, for as long as I can recall with any accuracy or clarity. Expect the worst, no? This way you will never be disappointed. I believe that something changed for me last night on a cellular level. I have been making music in my basement for some time, often at a glacial pace, and only infrequently with my wife. What we do and what we strive for can be best described not with words, but with a good listen to a live performance by Balún.

Originally from Puerto Rico and now living in New York these latina/o electro troubadours with the beautiful visual backdrop conjured audibly induced visions of Pinocchio's Pleasure Island before (the island before everything went weird). Listening to their one hour set of joy made me think of My Bloody Valentine, Bjork, The Books, Stereolab, and much, much more. They are their own band. By my account, in moments of lucidity when the music released me from its warm embrace, I noticed an electric ukulele, (I think I couldn't tell if was 4 stringed or 8 which would be a mandolin right?) bass guitar, guitar, Casio keys, unidentified machine, electric violin, electric accordion, bells, melodica, egg shaker, keyboard, laptop with unknown software (logic I suspect), a small device which when cranked runs a programmed piece of paper through generating music box like sounds.

Oh my good heavens, Nora, Leo, Angelica, and Jose played. What is more they played with grace and humility, in synch with one another as if they had done the very same thing one million times before. Yet, last eve was the first time they performed together, on stage, in their current incarnation. Nora played the Ukulele with a slide, the high notes piercing the drone and accentuating Angelica's voice. How appropo a name for the lead singer, who in fact, sounds angelic. Her's and Leo's voice, at times unintelligible, supplemented the array of sounds as if they were instruments in themselves, which they are, and should be.

Leo changed from Casio to guitar provided further rhythms for the band. Angelica, as the others did as well, switched effortlessly between her voice, the violin, the egg, and her accordion; Nora between her bass and ukelele. Jose conducted the ebb and flow of his machined sounds. Every member, a talented multi-instrumentalist, expertly adjusted velocity and start and stop time as if machines themselves. Truly an indescribable joy to experience that hour with them, I just wanted to wrap them up in a multi-colored tapestry and take them to the beach and invite all of my friends to watch the sunset to music well suited for such things. The music was beyond beautiful and has inspired me all over again to make brilliant sounds.

This is sufficient for now. I will have more to report from the second day of this festival. As I said before, I am super fired about musique concrete from Manrico and whatever other gifts this day seems fit to toss my way.

Cheers

weareallmachines.

Clandestinely lurking about during the twilight hours

2009-08-19T09:03:00.001-07:00

As I sat docilely awake on the cusp of the weird hour of waste-oids, the digital workforce, and those manual laborers arising from their slumbers to start their toil as the youth just get into their full swing of super sensory non-sense, I felt strangely at peace. Now, under other circumstances, this may seem odd. To me, though, peaceful states are more aberrational than they are normal.

Had the specific job that I was working on fallen to pot, perhaps I would have unwittingly changed my tune. Not receiving that late night call from a client frantically professing the end of their world is all the thanks I require for a job, not well done, but not done poorly. I needn't be lauded, I simply need not be disturbed when successfully completing a job.

Nevertheless, at that hour, nearing ungodly to the overly dramatic, I accepted my current circumstances. Albeit less than ideal, I will manage with the present situation, for now.

My existence lies in a rather fragile groove, like a roughly hewn, 90 gram vinyl. I sit precariously on a ledge from which I may become unmoored at any instant. My self imposed pressures, and externalities, combine to form an invisible psychic weight that I constantly try to shake. Strides have been made, triggers defended against upon recognition, and growth. Oh, the growth. I have learned to let the a$$holes of the world slide on by on their proverbial 'slip 'n' slides' of feces. I cannot control a$$holes. The reason that most a$$holes cannot be controlled is because: A) They do not recognize that they have a problem; B) They are inconsiderate the feelings of others, and thus would not modify their behaviour if they recognized that they were, in fact, a$$holes; and C) There exists a strain of a$$hole, that knows they are an a$$hole and agitate people simply for kicks. I work with several C) variations. They suck. Yet, they are wonderful training tools. I view their function in life as an entity that forces me to regulate my blood pressure and test my patience so that I evolve into a being of perpetual calm.

So, for now, I am at peace. I intend to remain this way permanently. I will not always be under the exertion of these vile conditions. Perhaps the circumstances grow worse, perhaps they improve. If my microcosm and the daily reports from the world outside are any indication, a$$holery is on the steady rise. Thus, I will need to remain permanently calm to effectively face the daily world. I am doing my best. Gives us a hand would you? Don't be an a$$hole.

Here are some small gestures that one can easily accomplish...

1) Hold a door open. If the person doesn't thank you, tell them that they are welcome, loudly. Condition humans to be considerate again.

2) If someone cuts you off or honks at you, stare them in the face, smile, and give them a thumbs up. Even, and especially, a$$holes need positive encouragement.

3) If someone offends you with an off-cuff comment, explain to them that they are rude, that their parents failed them or that they have forgotten pertinent teachings from their youth, and pat them on the back. Show em' who is boss.

At any rate, I hope this helps you. This is the product of a lucid day vision adapted from a moment of clarity from deep within the peace of night. Cheers.

Stop Me If You Think That You've Heard This One Before

2008-10-16T10:27:00.000-07:00

Below are the lyrics to the song "Stop Me If You Think That You've Heard This One Before" by "The Smiths." The Smiths, in my opinion, were one of the very best bands to come out of the 1980's post-punk scene. Their sublime lyrics and musicality evoked thought and bordered on the thin line between depression and ridiculousness. Take a look...

Stop me, oh, stop me
Stop me if you think that you've
Heard this one before
Stop me, oh, stop me
Stop me if you think that you've heard this one before

Nothing's changed
I still love you, oh, I still love you
...Only slightly, only slightly less than I used to, my love

I was delayed, I was way-laid
An emergency stop
I smelt the last ten seconds of life
I crashed down on the crossbar
And the pain was enough to make
A shy, bald, buddhist reflect
And plan a mass murder
Who said lied I'd to her ?

Oh, who said I'd lied because I never ? I never !
Who said I'd lied because I never ?
I was detained, I was restrained
And broke my spleen
And broke my knee
(and then he really laced into me)
Friday night in Out-patients
Who said I'd lied to her ?

Oh, who said I'd lied ? - because I never, I never
Who said I'd lied ? - because I never

Oh, so I drank one
It became four
And when I fell on the floor ...
...I drank more

Stop me, oh, stop me
Stop me if you think that you've
Heard this one before
Stop me, oh, stop me
Stop me if you think that you've heard this one before

Nothing's changed
I still love you, oh, I still love you
...Only slightly, only slightly less than I used to, my love...................

Nevertheless, "Stop Me" brings to my mind the thought that no one has really ever "heard this one before." Therefore, no one should ever preclude another from telling the same, or a new story, because no one has ever really "heard this one before." For example, given the subjective nature of every story ever told, no story is ever the same. Every individual gives a story its own uniqueness. Each story brings uniqueness in tone, rhythm, pitch, emotion, perspective, etc.

If you care to think of this theory in even greater metaphysical terms consider this excerpt from a Bill Hick's performance recorded Live at the Dominion Theatre in London, November 1992...

"Today, a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration. That we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively. There is no such thing as death, life is only a dream and we're the imagination of ourselves. Here's Tom with the weather."

Notwithstanding the reference to illicit substances, though a recurring topic of interest in his performances, Hick's clearly believed that each person perceives life individually. As such, each person hears, tastes, speaks, perceives differently than the next. Linguists, Psychologists, and the ilk refer to this theory as the "Shared Subjective Experience Theory." (a brief, and likely amateur, description can be found here ...http://theorypages.blogspot.com/2005/11/shared-subjective-
experience-theory.html). This same theory explains why human language, despite its usefulness , is a relatively imperfect tool. One may further extrapolate that this linguistic fallibility contributes to arguments, wars, conflicts, and other disagreements result from a failure to truly understand one another.

Thus, despite its beauty and genius, "Stop Me If You Think That You've Heard This One Before," as a song title, always makes me think, even if you have heard this one before, do not stop ME from telling YOU. After all, you have not heard it from me or if you have it will not be the same twice.

my political philosophy in light of this apocolyptic nonsense

2008-10-08T12:15:00.000-07:00

My intent is not to add fodder to those which have already chosen a candidate. I am merely venting my disgust with our current political predicament. This is not the first, nor will it be the last, campaign based on smear and feigned hatred with the opposition in the name of political gain. However, this is a first with respect to the face of our political landscape, unique issues relating to our economy and our place in this world, and unprecedented ignorance by both parties and the American people.

I do not know any of these candidates personally, but I do know people just like them. I know people like them because I have striven to achieve, every day, a broader knowledge of life. I have done this by searching for new experiences, new relationships, and new personal growth. I have a theory that people develop through strains, or likenesses, molds of persons if you will. To flesh this concept out, think of times when you have seen someone on the street and thought "that Japanese guy looks just like my brother, except Japanese," or "that woman is the black Julia Roberts." You get my point. Well, those forms, or likenesses, apply to the mind, attitude, and personalities of people as well. Thus, if you have met a type A boss that acts exactly like the high school bully that threw you into the bathroom and gave you a good pummeling, you understand this theory. Yet another example is the conniving, gossipy ex-girlfriend of yours that harps on your faults just the same as your grandmother.

Given that foundation information, I propose the following likenesses. Sarah Palin could, arguably, be described as the half-way decent looking high-school cheerleader, student government president that was seemingly privileged for the small town she grew up in. Yet, despite comparatively meager upbringings she was still a fuckin' hateful little bully that picked on the other girls that didn't have the newest "Guess" sweatshirts and the yellow Camaro. Furthermore, this type of girl, in general terms, probably threw "it" around a little with the popular guys at school that were as equally ignorant as her, but thought that they were smarter. This type of girl, in general terms did not want other people to know of her individual relations with these "cool guys" so she would give em' the "Ol' Palin Wink" just to let them know that it was "their secret." This is a terrible and vile scene that recurs thousands upon thousands of times per year, for time immemorial in what many City-Folk refer to as "Red-neck" towns. Not all places, nor young girls, are like what I have just described. However, many places are like this, and I believe Sarah Palin to be one of those girls, from one of those places.

With respect to John McCain's mold I propose the following. Despite John McCain appearing, at present, of one of Ralph Steadman's bad acid trip looking figure of excessive, and dubious, authority with those beast-like jowls, he was not always so. John Sidney McCain III graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in 1958. Groomed to be a Naval man from an early age he strove to be an admiral just like his father, and his father's father before him. Everyone knows, and most respect his service to the country, but do not let his sacrifice cloud your judgments folks. This man exudes, and has always exuded, an overconfidence and an arrogance that truly says "ELITE." However, it is this same lack of humility and sense of superiority that explains his form, or likeness. The same qualities that make him the friend you used to have but could no longer hang out with because he stabbed you in the back, or two-timed with your lady. The same characteristics that drove friends who were tired of fighting for a fast-mouthed, hot-head, away, for good. McCain's disingenuous persona gives pause to millions of Americans, and others that perhaps he really died 10 years ago and was replaced by a Madame Tussaud, paranoid android, that no one can truly believe, or believe truly exists.

Now that the administrative task of describing these type, or forms, of people is finished, let's discuss some details. The format of the following text is in an organized rant. I will do my best to retain some semblance of continuity, but I can only do my best.

I. Politicians: Good God Ya'll, What Are They Good For? Absolutely Nothin' Say It Again!

First, let me begin by stating that MOST politicians are lying, cheating, stealing, mud-slinging, bastardized, shells of former human beings. These 'things' are not worthy of the title homo-sapien, or homo-sapien-sapien. It is important to remember that a privileged station in life does not necessarily imply superiority, often the opposite is true. Nevertheless, it is my staunch belief that these 'things' do not survive by the consumption of food, water, and oxygen, as we humans do. Rather, these 'things' continue in perpetuity by consuming feces, sundry biological and non-biological wastes, rodent blood, and babies. That is, until they die, as many believe John McCain has already done (is it so far fetched to believe that what we know of as John McCain is really just a humanoid replacement)? At which point the respective political parties create a replicant. Said replicant than continues to spread its message of muddled, indirect, irrelevant non-sense to our fast-food, infotainment, short-attention-span culture. (See Above).

That being said, one is charged with a civic duty to choose a candidate to elect for political positions. Thus, despite the despicable lack of option, one must participate in the process. Eventually, the process may be represented by a wider breadth of choices that espouse a more diverse array of issues. Perhaps, those candidates may even, truly, stand for your positions on two or even three issues. While I prefer the lesser of the very worst of this collection of evils it is only because that is all I am given as choices. McDonald or Burger King any one?

II. Experience? Who has it, Who needs it, Is it really that important?

While true that Barrack Obama is not the most qualified candidate for President in this here Un-United States of America is John McCain? And what of Sarah Palin. Do we really care about experience, or even issues? Or do we really only care about the talking heads that we see on television and how "cool and stylish" their glasses are or how eloquently they speak? (As an aside, the comment Un-United States is not a typo, or without significance See http://www.thedailyshow.com/ episode with Bill Maher October 2008 in which Maher explains that there are two United States, one which is more European and Progressive and one which is Redneck, Ignorant, and Hateful ---note the Author advocates neither position).

I grow weary of the comparisons between Obama's and Palin's experiences. While Sarah Palin is woefully under qualified to run this Country this is not the primary reason I am so disgusted with her. First, she does not answer questions, any of them. Her failure to answer questions is not a result of dodging issues, it is because she is ignorant. Ignorance can be cured. However, he consistent ignorance on issues reflects either the inability to learn or the arrogance that she need not learn. Both rationales are insulting and if she seeks the votes of those persons more informed or intelligent then her, she has much work ahead of her. However, with regard to the issue of experience, she is also lacking. Furthermore, contrary to Newt Gingrich’s perceptions, as he so ineloquently tries to debase reporter Ron Allen in the following video linked at You Tube, her experiences do not inspire confidence-(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8zXi90EVeg).

III. My Brief Digression to Explain to The Less-Evolved, Watermelon-Heads That
There Exist More Parties Than Republican And Democrat And That Not Being Conservative Does Not Mean You Are Communist

Now, before I continue, let me insert this disclaimer. I am not some left-leaning “commie-pinko,” liberal, that surely some mouth-breathing, redneck, racist, Ron Reagan loving, piece of mushy dog-turd, fuck-head is sure to label me as. True, I have not researched the relevant issues as deeply as say Patrick J. Buchanan or Tom Brokaw. However those ignorant bastards that will try and refute what I have said by grunting louder and erratically waiving their long arms in an effort to intimidate are without merit. Make no mistake, these mouth breathers are quick to spout from their obese McMouths this typical, nasty, unoriginal, pre-packaged tagline they have memorized only because they hear it 30 times a day from their choice of biased media.

In fact, there is no label for me, and there should be no label for me or anyone else. There should be very few labels at all. Nevertheless, I will do my very best for those who yearn and revel in these categories. I am a green, libertarian, futurist, anti-dependant on foreign fuels, small central government, proper apportionment of tax dollars to raise our collective ships-ist, non-hormone-meat eating, wine-drinking, stay-the-fuck-out-of-a-woman’s-choice-to-choose, shoot-you-if-you-come-into-my-house-uninvited, ethical and progressive constitutional interpreter who wishes for a strong focus on negotiation with regard to foreign policy.

Whatever genius can come up with that party has my vote (Sorry Bob Barr and Ron Paul you don’t cut a wide enough swath to get my vote).

I’d start my own political party, but I don’t kiss ass, am not strictly Politically Correct, and I hate politicians. Plus, a guy with views like that is definitely a strong candidate for the “most likely to get shot in the face in Dallas” Award.

IV. Race, Sex, The Opportunity For Something A Bit Different, Kool-Aid Drinking,
Ultra-Right, Religious Conservatives, And the Unwavering Ability for the Democratic Party To Ruin A Good Thing.

So where were we, sometimes I wander, OH yes! We were discussing Doo-doo Head Barbie and Robot John. As I was saying, this election is getting progressively nasty. No one wants to verbally attack the “Black Guy,” too much, and nobody really wants to go after the “Woman.” God forbid we offend somebody in the United States. Yeah, it would be horrible if people were actually honest.

Look, give this brother a chance. If Obama fucks up, than that is great for the GOP. Right, GOP? Yet another Democratic failure is not beyond the realm of imagination. At least, however, such a disaster would indicate that our entire political systems is doomed, not just faux-religious, right-wing, neo-con, Republicans. If the United States elects the chosen one, the first "Black Man," as President and he shits the proverbial Easter Basket the right-wingers are free to bask in thier “I told you so” glory.

It is hardly arguable that some extremist factions in the GOP secretly hope that Obama gets elected. If that comes to pass it will only be a matter of time before he lets his true colors as a "terrorist" shine. After all, Obama sounds like Osama right? Hopefully that is a laughable proposition to all but the most extremely ignorant cave dwellers amongst us, I hope. Nevertheless, to those voters, it is a certainty that Obama will work out a deal with Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and the Grand Ayatollah Ali Khamenei to produce enriched Uranium, together, in strawberry fields forever. Ha! Then, the Far-Right dare I say Fascist, Republicans can have a field day, dancing around on the beltway with their cee-gars and their triple-malts.

But, don’t get all shit-eatin’ grin on me either you Democrats. You dumb dick-heads with your holier-than-thou attitudes have done just as much to get this country “in the shit” (See http://www.vietvet.org/glossary.htm of terms for “in the shit”) as those greedy Republicans. C’mon Kerry, did you really have to pick John Edwards? Could you not have chosen Hillary right off the bat. A “man of the people” does not pay $500 dollars for a haircut and certainly doesn’t go around fathering babies out of wedlock with a sick wife at home (villainous prick). Additionally, John Kerry, how could you let George W. Bush (and the Machiavellian Neo-Cons with personal vendettas grinding at their souls, including our good friends Wolfowitz, Rove, Rumsfeld, and Crack-shot Cheney) win a second time? In actuality, a first legitimate time, but I digress?

Contrariwise, there are those Democrats, or others, lurking in the shadows, secretly wishing that bat-shit crazy Doo-doo Head Barbie and Robot John win the election. Boy, another 4 years of the same is exactly what this ignorant Country needs. Remember folks, this isn’t even bad yet. Things can always get worse. As Lilly Tomlin once said, "things can always get worse before they get worse."

V. The Economy, Wal-Mart, And My Privilege To Buy A Foreign Car That Will Last And How That Purchase Has Less Effect On The Economy Than Your Purchase Of Goods Made In China For Wal-Mart.

What we should do is allow the millions of Americans that shop at Wal-Mart to keep shopping there as they bitch about getting laid off. I wonder if these folks are aware that the jobs that they once did for a living have been shipped to China, India, Burma, Taiwan, Canada, and Mexico, et. al. The money these consumers piss away at Wal-Mart lines the pockets of Chinese, Indian, Burmese, Taiwanese, Canadian, and Mexican distributors. The products these American consumers purchase fortify foreign markets and further erode the American manufacturing base thereby increasing the number of jobs in China, India, Burma, Taiwan, Canada, and Mexico, et. al. We can let Doo-doo Head and Robot John keep givin’ those jobs away. Or, we can hope that Obama makes good on his promise to give tax incentives and bonuses to those domestic companies that retain production facilities in the United States and return the once great manufacturing base to the United States.

Also, it is not just Appalachia and other similarly depressed communities that contribute to the Wal-Mart phenomenon. It takes all kinds to shop at Wal-Mart. The problem, however, remains the same...

Wal-Mart moves to a community. Wal-Mart's scouts travel the community and gauge the longevity of existing business (ex. that grocery will last 6 months, that hardware store, 1 year). The independent mom & pop shops go out of business because they cannot compete with Wal-Mart’s cheap prices because mom & pop bought local products at higher prices but also employee local members of the community and took care of those local community members. Mom & Pop fire all the locals that worked for em’ when they go under and those ex-employees go work for Wal-Mart. Except, where mom & pop gave the locals health care, a decent wage, and a 40+ hour work week, Wal-Mart does even better. Wal-Mart gives the local a 35 hour work week so that local can spend more time with his/her family and Wal-Mart saves money by NOT paying local’s health care and making sure that the government pays for it (welfare, Medicare, Medicaid). (See Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Pricehttp://www.walmartmovie.com/)

Giving all of our domestic jobs away to less qualified, lower quality providers, importing way more than we export, and consuming foreign fuels should certainly raise our Gross Domestic Product sufficiently strong to pull us out of the Depression that is surely around our corner. Right? Right? I wonder what Paul Volker has to say about this? (http://blogs.wsj.com/washwire/2008/01/31/volcker-joins-list-of-obama-backers/). How about Al Greenspan? (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/09/14/greenspan-this-is-the-wor_n_126274.html).

What I am trying to say, and this acrimonious diatribe sounds like the disjointed ramblings of a madman and for that I apologize, is that this country is F.U.B.A.R. If we want to fix it, let us give Obama and Biden a chance. Obama has a cool head and some street cred, which goes a long way when dealing with the crooked bastards that the President of the United States has to deal with. Note well, while William Jefferson Clinton WAS the first “Black” President of these United States he wasn’t raised by a single mother and did not have to deal with the same life experiences as Barrack “Barry” Obama. Therefore, Obama brings a new non-privileged background to a traditionally, silver-spooned seat of power that may be refreshing or disastrous. We will never know, though, if we don’t give him a chance. Trust me, we need to give this guy a whirl. I had a lot of people take chances on me, and very few of them were disappointed. Let’s do the same for Obama.

On the opposite side of the very same coin, Joe Biden is also from “the streets.” Now, he ain’t from the streets like Tupac Shakur, but he has lived in areas and at times where economic depression is “REAL.” Steal Depression of the East in the 70’s, 80’s, & 90’s anyone? Not to mention that fact that Joe Biden has very real experience with foreign affairs (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jeremy-jacquot/how-bidens-foreign-policy_b_121043.html). Now, this is a true blue American and as close as you are going to get to a human being in career politician.

Contrast that with the other ticket. A Doo-doo Head from a State with a significant percentage of inhabitants that wish to cede from the United States of America (http://newsgroups.derkeiler.com/Archive/Alt/alt.politics/2008-09/msg00006.html) and a humanoid likeness of a man with a maniacal life and actual history of flip-flopping on positions. If we want to talk about flip-flopping, just by the shear duration of political service, John McCain does have more experience (See McCain’s Now Notorious Flip-Flop List).

Some may attack this text as being overly partisan. I have tried to remain as neutral as possible given my proclivities and my choice for the next President. Additionally, some may attack this as not as well researched as it could have been. For that, I apologize. However, at least I am not voting like some of the mentally underdeveloped knuckle-draggers that are casting their vote based on the fact that they would rather, in the most infamous words of my friend A.C. “f*&^ the dog-Sh*&$% out of Sarah Palin” than do the same to Slick Joe Biden.”

Furthermore, despite the fact that every damn news channel you watch is awash in superficial, image spinning, dialogue, I have tried to be as brutally honest as my own mental censors would allow in writing this document. If that is not good enough for some critics I urge them to get off their fat asses, put the remote down, cozy up to their machine and respond with something at least as intelligible as this, hopefully more so.

In closing, I should mention that we are at a pivotal time in human nature and the existence of this planet. If a cynical romantic like me can couch my apathy, for at least the most fleeting of moments, some of you optimistic, sitcom-watching, base-heads can do the same. Get involved, have a discussion, find someone you disagree with to have a debate. After all, most of your friends probably agree with you. What fun is that?

Go do something!

WE are taking steps to view life through different spectacles

2007-03-23T07:10:00.001-07:00

To All...

Here Ye, Here Ye, Here Ye... I decree that this blog has become a new forum with which to review "things" of this world. Meaning, I will be using this forum to review products, including food, music, books and other literature, film, and people. I have spoken with the wife about this for some time and have decided that ACTION speaks LOUDER than words, particularly if you have pans and spatulas and no megaphone. Therefore, today will usher in the new era of WeAreAllMachines and I will begin to provide useful data to the machines so that we can hopefully make more informed, efficient, and a little less stupid decisions.

On this day March 23, 2007 I will review two things...

1) The album, "The Good, The Bad, and The Queen" by Damon Albarn of Blur and the Gorillaz fame, Tony Allen, often drumming with Fela Kuti, and a fantastic Afrobeat percussionist, Clash bassist Paul Simonon, and former verve guitarist Simon Tong. Now, we can get into some pissing match about how, and if, these so-called super groups even exist, but I would rather just say that fantastic and ground breaking musicians hang out with one another just like any other professionals do. This is for several reasons. 1) People like to hang out with other high end professionals because they know that when they talk shop they want to have their limits pushed to the brink and not speak with some fool that thinks they know everything, and therefore what they are talking about; 2) These guys are not good at what they do, they are great at it. They kick beats off of bass lines off of vocal harmonies off of grooves and then they meet back in the middle for slow build ups that crescendo into moments where you want to close your eyes and let the jam carry you away, but you also want to stay alive, stay out of jail, and keep your car in one piece so if the music has this effect on you, LISTEN AT HOME; and 3) These fellas have met, and likely exceeded, the expectations of listeners since the second album that each has contributed to, which is to say, when an individual has their music and are heard the first time people are either blown away or they are not. Interest grows and then you become attached to a style, a bass line, a groove that these people produce. Eventually, these artists become a part of your life and you anticipate, sometimes with great anxiety, their next product. Now, the famous sophomore slump can dismay even the greatest fans, but these folks had you waiting in line like a crack head waiting for their confederate to come out of the house that they went into with Aunt Mabel's television to come out with that little baggie. Therefore, we knew that this group was technically sound and at least moderately diverse and visionary in their respective styles...

What we did not expect, at least most of us, was this album.

Supposedly a concept album whose songs are themed around modern life in London, this means fuck all if you are ignorant of what really goes down in the seedy underbelly of London life. Watching "Lock Stock" F.Y.I., does not make you an expert. My point is this. You needn't know Lilly Allen from Parliament to understand that this album is straight off the chain and tighter than X-hibits whips.

The initial track off this album, and I will not bore you will minutae from each track, about break downs, and buildups, but the "History Song" starts us off with slow jamminess like malt-o meal on a cold wintry morning. There is a solid bass line that could zone you out like passing out on the bathroom floor warm with wine to the hum off your washer and drier. Moreover, you hear the sweet grinding slide of finger prints against guitar strings that you rarely hear these days. If you expect to hear the later electronica of Blur or the trip-hop-hip-hoppiness of the Gorillaz go buy some new R& B version of some shitty soft-cell remix, cause this album ain't the one. Don't get me wrong, there is a time and place for this type of tune, and I love the stuff myself, but Damon has grown, grown, grown. Listen for Damon's "Ahhh AHHHHHH if you don't know now."

The next track, "80's Song," is more like the 60's song and has a doo-wop feel to it. Did you think in one million years that I would say that? It is true. That is growth, or sweet regression, either way, who cares, the song is groovy. Frankie Vallie would shit his pants. That would be funny.

And finally, because I told you that I would not bore with each individual track's content I will simply tell you that "Herculean" is musically genius. I find myself singing falsetto lines while my wife hums the bass line from this track. I am constantly looking for musical stylings. I then take my inspirations which I record on a handheld tape recorder, then put down when I get home. If this song doesn't inspire musicians, they should stop making music. Plus, the big Plus, is Tony Allen's broken afrobeat in this track. Man o Man is it choppy, funky, groovy, and smooth like the surface of the Caribbean in a Puerto Rican cove.

All in all, stop what your doin' cuz this album is about to ruin, the image and the style that you are used to, and hey, it was produced by Danger Mouse, Grey Album anyone, not to mention 1/2 of Gnarls Barkley (oh Snap!). So, to get you to buy this I will give you the obligatory comparisons with the P.i.M.P. twist...

This album is 2 parts "English Beat" particularly "Mirror in the Bathroom" pitched down and funked up, 1 part "Thievery Corporation," a dash of "Stereo M.C.'s" for taste, A Gilberto Gil, Sly Stone, Bootsy Collins, Fela Kuti, and Afrika Bambaataa low key beach front pig roast, and a handheld walk through the park with Sid Vicious and Nancy Sinatra. Yeah, I might be crazy...crazy like a fox, and crazy like this album is good. Go buy it or download the whole thing, this week, from I-tunes for $7.99 it is on sale.

Damon keeps getting funkier and for people who try to make music, like me, is surpassing the level of inspiration by growing from brit-pop, to funk electronica, to ground-breaking trip-hip-hop to THIS, just plain old, home grown, good-ass music.

And, if you do like the Gorillaz, which maybe you should, check out their live in Harlem DVD. Bomb musique.

My second review for the day is "Stupidity." Yes, as we have seen in the last couple of months, with the help of years of historical data, the analysts are right. Stupidity is on the rise with growth somewhere in the range of 273% +/- 3 basis points. It is a bull market and we expect more growth indirectly proportionate to crude prices. Now is the time to invest in stupidity because we don't expect a decrease in the near future. In fact, as the population continues to grow we expect stupidity to rise at exponential rates. For, the smart investors, however, despite massive expected growth, we advise to dispense with as much as you can, as soon as possible. Therefore, we review stupidity as just plain stupid.

See you soon.

WE are taking steps to view life through different spectacles

2007-03-23T07:10:00.000-07:00

To All...

Here Ye, Here Ye, Here Ye... I decree that this blog has become a new forum with which to review "things" of this world. Meaning, I will be using this forum to review products, including food, music, books and other literature, film, and people. I have spoken with the wife about this for some time and have decided that ACTION speaks LOUDER than words, particularly if you have pans and spatulas and no megaphone. Therefore, today will usher in the new era of WeAreAllMachines and I will begin to provide useful data to the machines so that we can hopefully make more informed, efficient, and a little less stupid decisions.

On this day March 23, 2007 I will review two things...

1) The album is "The Good, The Bad, and The Queen" by Damon Albarn of Blur and the Gorillaz fame, Tony Allen often drumming with Fela Kuti, and a fantastic Afrobeat percussionist, Clash bassist Paul Simonon, and former verve guitarist Simon Tong. Now, we can get into some pissing match about how, and if, these so-called super groups even exist, but I would rather just say that fantastic and ground breaking musicians hang out with one another just like any other professionals do. This is for several reasons. 1) People like to hang out with other high end professionals because they know that when they talk shop they want to have their limits pushed to the brink and not speak with some fool that thinks they know everything, and therefore what they are talking about; 2) These guys are not good at what they do, they are great at it. They kick beats off of bass lines off of vocal harmonies off of grooves and then they meet back in the middle for slow build ups that crescendo into moments where you want to close your eyes and let the jam carry you away, but you also want to stay alive, stay out of jail, and keep your car in one piece so if the music has this effect on you, LISTEN AT HOME; and 3) These fellas have met, and likely exceeded, the expectations of listeners since the second album that each has contributed to, which is to say, when an individual has their music and are heard the first time people are either blown away or they are not. Interest grows and then you become attached to a style, a bass line, a groove that these people produce. Eventually, these artists become a part of your life and you anticipate, sometimes with great anxiety, their next product. Now, the famous sophomore slump can dismay even the greatest fans, but these folks had you waiting in line like a crack head waiting for their confederate to come out of the house that they went into with Aunt Mabel's television to come out with that little baggie. Therefore, we knew that this group was technically sound and at least moderately diverse and visionary in their respective styles...

What we did not expect, at least most of us, was this album.

Supposedly a concept album whose songs are themed around modern life in London, this means fuck all if you are ignorant of what really goes down in the seedy underbelly of London life. Watching "Lock Stock" F.Y.I., does not make you an expert. My point is this. You needn't know Lilly Allen from Parliament to understand that this album is straight off the chain and tighter than X-hibits whips.

The initial track off this album, and I will not bore you will minutae from each track, about break downs, and buildups, but the "History Song" starts us off with slow jamminess like malt-o meal on a cold wintry morning. There is a solid bass line that could zone you out like passing out on the bathroom floor warm with wine to the hum off your washer and drier. Moreover, you hear the sweet grinding slide of finger prints against guitar strings that you rarely hear these days. If you expect to hear the later electronica of Blur or the trip-hop-hip-hoppiness of the Gorillaz go buy some new R& B version of some shitty soft-cell remix, cause this album ain't the one. Don't get me wrong, there is a time and place for this type of tune, and I love the stuff myself, but Damon has grown, grown, grown. Listen for Damon's "Ahhh AHHHHHH if you don't know now."

The next track, "80's Song," is more like the 60's song and has a doo-wop feel to it. Did you think in one million years that I would say that? It is true. That is growth, or sweet regression, either way, who cares, the song is groovy. Frankie Vallie would shit his pants. That would be funny.

And finally, because I told you that I would not bore with each individual track's content I will simply tell you that "Herculean" is musically genius. I find myself singing falsetto lines while my wife hums the bass line from this track. I am constantly looking for musical stylings. I then take my inspirations which I record on a handheld tape recorder, then put down when I get home. If this song doesn't inspire musicians, they should stop making music. Plus, the big Plus, is Tony Allen's broken afrobeat in this track. Man o Man is it choppy, funky, groovy, and smooth like the surface of the Caribbean in a Puerto Rican cove.

All in all, stop what your doin' cuz this album is about to ruin, the image and the style that you are used to, and hey, it was produced by Danger Mouse, Grey Album anyone, not to mention 1/2 of Gnarls Barkley (oh Snap!). So, to get you to buy this I will give you the obligatory comparisons with the P.i.M.P. twist...

This album is 2 parts "English Beat" particularly "Mirror in the Bathroom" pitched down and funked up, 1 part "Thievery Corporation," a dash of "Stereo M.C.'s" for taste, A Gilberto Gil, Sly Stone, Bootsy Collins, Fela Kuti, and Afrika Bambaataa low key beach front pig roast, and a handheld walk through the park with Sid Vicious and Nancy Sinatra. Yeah, I might be crazy...crazy like a fox, and crazy like this album is good. Go buy it or download the whole thing, this week, from I-tunes for $7.99 it is on sale.

Damon keeps getting funkier and for people who try to make music, like me, is surpassing the level of inspiration by growing from brit-pop, to funk electronica, to ground-breaking trip-hip-hop to THIS, just plain old, home grown, good-ass music.

And, if you do like the Gorillaz, which maybe you should, check out their live in Harlem DVD. Bomb musique.

My second review for the day is "Stupidity." Yes, as we have seen in the last couple of months, with the help of years of historical data, the analysts are right. Stupidity is on the rise with growth somewhere in the range of 273% +/- 3 basis points. It is a bull market and we expect more growth indirectly proportionate to crude prices. Now is the time to invest in stupidity because we don't expect a decrease in the near future. In fact, as the population continues to grow we expect stupidity to rise at exponential rates. For, the smart investors, however, despite massive expected growth, we advise to dispense with as much as you can, as soon as possible. Therefore, we review stupidity as just plain stupid.

See you soon.

The more that I think of it....

2007-03-02T13:23:00.000-08:00

The more our fucked up, unwieldy Federal Government needs to be overhauled. Each State within the Union should be given more individual rights. Look at Europe. My father and mother will not be able to a vacation in Belize and will undoubtedly lose their money because the damned government cannot coordinate multiple departments. Burn them down to the ground and start fresh. The government is dead, long live the government (under new terms).

O.K., the last time I remember my parents taking a vacation, without us kids, is well, I cannot remember them going on vacation period. They took me to Sea World when I was 5 and we went to D.C. when I was 15. Dragging a couple of asshole kids around to the Smithsonian is not, however, my parents idea of a good time. Well, maybe the museum. That would be fun for me at least. Asshole kids I could take or leave. The real rub is that some dickweed aide for Senator Carl Levin promised that he would do what he could to help out. Well, I don't see the proper documentation in the mail, and subsequently, I don't see my parents waiving to me from the wild blue yonder heading off to their anxiously anticipated, long awaited, over needed vacation. Therefore, the crux of this problem, and I will put some onus on my parents for being dilatory in addition to misplacing naturalization papers, but the crux of this problem is the government. Ah, yes...the government.

Our brilliant government. Unlike lawyer's whom everyone hates until they need them, the government is mostly hated by everyone, almost all of the time. My hatred for the government is not borne of jealously nor ignorance. I know my enemy, and this knowledge spurs the hatred.

Want to get something done? Don't ask the government.

Wanna know how much is costs a fella or lady to run for the House or Senate?
http://www.sunlightfoundation.com/watchdogging101/answer/1423

Want some reform in government, limiting expenditures for campaigns is a good start. The McCain/Feingold Campaign Finance Reform Bill did something, but these assholes found ways to make some soft money, instead of hard money. Bunch of pricks found the loopholes, are you surprised, they wrote the laws.

Soft money= money that may indirectly influence federal election but is raised and spend outside the purview of federal law and would be illegal IF spent directly on a federal election.

The idea is that these politicians get soft money which is outside the regulatory reach. Can you believe that I got this tangential on this topic. My apologies. I will tie this back into the topic rather quickly. My point is that these crooked mother fuckers are running the show and don't give a shit about us. Moreover, the legislature drafts these laws by trading clauses with one another and end up convoluted the entire bill which then becomes a law. By the time these bills get passed, if at all, the end result is such a bastardization of the original idea that the idiocy and confusion simply compounds on itself creating a nasty little beast.

Guess what happens next?

Oh this one is a real doozy. These laws, if you want to see how they really get fucked up, are promulgated to the real world by a government agency. Sometimes, these agencies are created by Presidential fiat, sometimes the agencies are further extensions of Congressional Committee, sometimes these agencies are created by Congressional and Presidential appointees. Now, the Supreme Court is the final arbiter of the law, at least they have declared themselves to be the final interpreter since a little case called Marbury vs. Madison. So that means that hundreds of cases come before the Supreme Court with the sole issue of who which branch of government has fucked up and encroached upon the other. The point here is that the President and Congress cannot even always sort out which job they should be doing without accidentally doing the job of the other. This is called Separation of Powers. If the President and Congress cannot even figure out, surprisingly more often than not, who should and should not be doing a specific job, how in the hell are appointees and Federal Agencies with attenuated links to the two groups of ding dongs (Pres. and Con.) supposed to figure it out. Imagine trying to coordinate a bunch of government agencies full of government workers whose motto is "Manana." It ain't going to happen quickly, I can assure you this.

Sound muddy yet? Try getting some answers from some dick, who works for some bigger dick, who has to call a group of dicks, who work in a back room for another dick, working for some dick, appointed to his job by some dick he went to Yale with, who was appointed by our dick of a President. Sounds like to many dicks to get anything done except, no pun intended, pointing a dick at another dick, while both dicks say "Not our job."

So, you see my frustration. And I don't even get to go on Holiday. I do apologize for all of the cursing. I read a quote once that said something to the effect of "Swearing is the ignorant man’s way of getting his point across. Limited vocabulary breeds swearing as there is no other way that the person can express themselves."

However, another brilliant gentleman and scholar, a fellow by the name of Mark Twain said, " Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer."

To those who tout the ills of profanity I can only tell you that today and these last two weeks, have certainly qualified at "certain circumstances."

So with that, I feel much better, but I can assure you that my parents to do not. I hope that no one reading these words ever has to deal with the government for any extended period. Good day and good luck.

S&^%, F$%#, S$^&, F$#$%, S@#%, F#$%#

2007-02-23T06:22:00.000-08:00

F. I have had the worst F'ing, F'ing week. The older I get the more diminished my tolerance for dumb mother f'ers gets. Unbelievable. Now, I have categorized a new style of poetry entitled the "anger-vent, hate sans-hate, haiku." Before I share my composition with you, there are some qualifiers to this dialogue of which you must be aware...

1. I am of mixed heritage. One part Mexican, two parts tomato juice, a part lime, three parts vodka. Shake and drink. Delicious.

2. My family is Catholic. I try, but I am not very good at it. "They" say it is like riding a bike. Someone stole my bike. That does not bode well.

3. I am really a good person who simply gets stuck in "bad" situations. I feel like bad situations are like stray dogs. They just spring up and it seems like they are always hungry. Dammit.

4. I have an extremely low tolerance for stupidity and, begrudgingly accept when I, myself, have done something stupid.

5. I am an optimist at heart.

6. My heart is buried deep within a blackened chest of rock and oak.

7. One of my most favorite things is to see people get hurt when they do something stupid.
Unless, Unless, Unless, they hurt themselves really badly, in which case we all have a good laugh once the bleeding stops. Have you ever stepped on a tack? Wow, that little tack hurts BIG time.

Good, now that we have clarified these minor housekeeping issues, let us proceed to the artistic medium of poetry discussed above.

I present to you my first ever "anger-vent, hate sans-hate, haiku"...

Motherfucker You
you cause me much pain and grief
I don't know you Pigs!

Sabes Que? My Man!
Ash Wednesday Was the day,
you prevented me!

From leaving my work?
You blocked my car in the lot.
I forgot one thing.

Silly me, buddy!
That's right. Jesus loves you more.
Know why that is guy?

Oh yeah, I know why!
Because you're more Mexican,
than I look to you.

Sabes Que, Asshole?
God and Jesus are color blind!
That is what I'm told.

At least I try to...
understand where you come from,
reciprocated?

I think not my man!
don't give a shit about Man?
entiendes? Guess not!

Check out this next one
try to secure the passport,
but Pops lost his docs

Talk to Senator,
well, at least his aides. Oh yeah!
came to fruition?

Not likely. Not yet.
Try to call. Aide won't Answer!
That dumb ass bastard.

Yes, I have been calm.
The Yoga has assured that.
I remain myself.

That passport had better,
be in my father's hands soon.
If not, oh hells bells!

Politicians, man.
Always writing checks with mouths
that asses can't cash.

Fast mouth Politics
Fat mouth Politicians, too.
The best are all gone.

Sabes Que? No, what?
Speaky Spanis? Si, pero,
You speaky Inglis?

Sorry lady, but...
You gotta call back later.
y sabes por que?

Por que, I am mad!
I speaky spanis, but you...
You no speak Inglis!

I am mad as hell.
I do not have to take it.
At least not sitting.

I will stand. I will.
And you can push me down, down.
But I will get up.

You will tire first.
I will stand just to beat you.
My will is stronger.

Will is principle.
I am a principled man.
You, you have nothing!

Yet another sir.
Lest I leave you sour, my friend.
the wife and the dog.

Those two, if non others.
They two are of principle.
A dog you ask? Yes.

The wife and the dog.
Principle is in the eyes,
and the way they walk.

You too, would be wise,
to find a map leading to,
a finely hid spot.

dig and you may find,
gilded, brass, boxes filled with
principles and gold.

The message disguised,
but not completely obscured,
instructs to search well.

For principle will...
among many other things,
not seek you out friend!

You must find it and,
trap it, and hold it tightly.
It will escape you.

Once trapped, lock it up.
Use it every day, and oft.
and do you know why?

Consideration,
and peace, come from principle.
Now do you see why?

Our cups runneth over,
we are at capacity,
with idiocy.

So, tell me something,
that I know not yet my friend.
That one I have heard.

I leave you with this.
help people always, because
it is the right thing!

Well, that was my foray into the venting haiku. I hope you like it. I am unsure if the proper haiku form is expected to be connected by thought throughout a whole 5-7-5 unit, or if the lines are to be independent of one another? Well, I will disclaim any knowledge of being a haiku grandmaster, but I am getting quite good at Su Doku. No relation? Sorry, I thought you guys might be cousins.

Despite the haikuisms, I have to tell you, I feel infinitely better after that composition. Now, if I can just get this Measles inoculation out of the way I can relax a little bit. As I sit here, I wonder if the weather in Algeria is relatively the same as that in Texas. It sounds odd, yes, I know. If you look at a map, however, you may just say, "hey, I wonder that too!"

Well, if anyone out there is in fact reading my anonymous blog, which is done for my safety and that of all the children and the blind, I thank you. I do intend to keep writing more often, as it saves me the money from going to a psychologist. Anyway, a psychologist would just tell me that I am either fucked up, or normal, which, I already know. So thank you for your patronage. Perhaps soon I will have enough patronage to get that boat to travel to the new world for spices. I do like marjoram and paprika.

So, if anyone has anything to tell me, submit a response. I intend to put some links to some friend's blogs and other such things very soon, so stay posted.

Enjoy your end of the Weeks and have some chocolate or pie. You will, undoubtedly, feel better.

Supposed To?

2007-02-16T14:21:00.000-08:00

Supposed to! Supposed, as defined by the so-called "experts," whatever that title entails, or requires, is defined as (1)(a) Pretended, or (b) Alleged; and (2)(a) Believed or Imagined, or (b) Considered probable or certain, expected, or (c) Understood; and finally, (3) Permitted.

Who, exactly, is doing this pretending, alleging, believing, expecting, understanding, or permitting?

I am 'supposed' to behave. I am 'supposed' to act as a proper adult. I am 'supposed' to head to bed at some reasonable hour. Who is doing this supposing? Suppose, for a moment, that I do not wish to do as I am supposed. Seems a little circular I suppose. I suppose that I will try eliminate the word from my vocabulary. I suppose you should as well, do you not suppose that may be helpful. Some suppose that it would.

I have grown, in the past few days that I have been pondering this word, perhaps one of the great imponderables, to hate this word. I simply do not like the way it rolls off the tongue, nor the way it looks. I believe the root of this anger and frustration is not with the word itself, so much as what the word connotes.

Think about it! Does anyone present you with hypotheticals when something good happens? I suppose not! People present hypotheticals, most often in my experience, when trying to make you either (1) see an example of how you should have done something absent your proper execution of a particular task or (2) when you have done something that they disapprove of. For example, "Suppose you had use dish soap to clean that 'Pepsi' from that DVD instead of High Abrasive 'Ajax' cleanser. Don't you Suppose that would have been better?" You see my point. Well maybe you don't but with a pinch of time and a scintilla of effort, I Suppose that you could.

I just do not like the fact that there are people who are Supposed to Suppose how I should act.

I expect that you will consider it probable and understand if I will no longer permit the usage of the word Suppose in my company any longer considering this sentence contains four alternatives, perhaps maybe more I believe (5), of the word Suppose.

Good luck and enjoy the rest of your day.

Until next time when we will lament the word 'used.' Does anyone really think that getting used to something is a good thing in most circumstances? 'Used' to it? Say it out loud and see how odd it really sounds!

I really should write more!

2007-02-14T13:59:00.000-08:00

I experienced synchronicity on Monday February 12, 2007 at approximately 11:00 a.m. I had not had such an experience in some time, so I thought it curious. I walked passed an informational board, in my school. The board listed staff and faculty. Immediately upon looking at the board I saw the President of the University's name. I saw only that name as my inspection of the board was cursory. I opened the door to the restroom some 3 to 4 seconds later and nearly bashed the President of the University with the door.

As an aside I suspect that some readers are wondering, "Wow, you piss in the same spot as the President of the University." To which I would respond, "He is not that big of a deal, and If I could just as easily piss on him,...well I probably would not. It is, however, worth noting that I have not yet graduated. Because of this non-graduate status and the unknown result of my studies, we should not rule out the 'pissing on the President policy.'"

Back to the synchronicity. I almost bashed him in the head. At nearly the same time I thought, "damn, I just read his name {the President}. Upon feeling and thinking [how does one describe experiencing and experience without saying 'I experienced and experience' anyway] this synchronicity I thought of the 'Police' (not the police) because of their song, and later double album, "Synchronicity." That made me think of writing songs, which I also do, and just writing in general. That has lead me to write, and you to later read, these words before you.

Therefore, I would like to thank 1) Me, for reading the President's name, on Monday February 12, 2007 at approximately 11:00 a.m. and all subsequent, associated thoughts; 2) the President for almost getting his head bashed in, and moreover, for initiating a urination at some point just before 11:00 a.m. on that very same day; 3) the 'Police,' and certainly not the police for writing and performing "Synchroncity" and finally; 4) Carl Jung for giving what I felt a name.

Thanks.

Not since July? This is ridiculous!

2006-10-06T18:41:00.000-07:00

I suck... I am so content and familiar and I feel fucking depressed. I am playing a party tomorrow, spinning. I also told this woman in the bar that I would build her a record case for her husband. That is a nice thing to do. She was an attorney named Jenny, at a place called Underbar, and what a FINE bar I might add. VEry cozy locale, decorated in the traditional North North-American fall colors (greens, yellows, reds, and oranges, muted not gloss. But I digress. Wait, no, there's more. The bartender reminded me of Michael Dew, the dew man. This fella hails by the name o' Reverend JEffrey, a purveyor of only the finest ales, beers, and down key beats in relaxing Rythyms, the likes of Eno making that Airport music. Again, I digress, here in earnest.

I decided to do another good deed (the record rack for Jenny's husband), I fret to say another lest I be beaten again by the powers that be, yet I oft do good things for others. These acts are partially selfless with the other motivating portions offered to the keepers of Karma. Well, today, after much goodness from a streak of undetermined times, God, or whomever, has given me another pillowbiting experience without properly providing a good pull on the frontside. Some beast hither hath thieved mine bicylcle! No seriously, someone stole my fuckin' bike. I suspect foul play perpetrated by the filth living below me (co-habitants of this dwelling, un-related to me). These people are in the middle of a divore and she lives in the basement and he lives on the first floor. I apologize for the disjointed message, "a convoluted story, I'll admit" but I need to get this of my chest before I commit some drastic act in a blind passion.

So, we were to the clowns downstairs correct? Aye, I thought so... Despite my lack of drama due to me constant efforts to uncreate drama It so boldly sought me out Today.

As I struck off for the home of a friend I descend my stairs to bust out the ol' bicycle, much easier to ride there on the twos than the fours. What to my dismay did I find in the place I keep my bicycle? A great emptiness where usually some gears, grease, and aluminum lie. My great pissiness boiling up to the big browns, this cannot be!!!!! But alas, it was, and here I am. 5 hours, 4 beers, and two glasses of wine later I am agravated, but only slighly. A skeeter bite on the ankle on a day too hot to mind, only this is fall and a skeeter bite today throbs like a hammer on the thumb or a bike stolen on an October day. GOD DAMMIT. I want to destroy. This is the 2ND bike in 5 years. Can't this low-rent, two-bit, half-rate, gawl-dang, mother-fucking, sons of bitches go buy their own bike?

BAck to the divorcees. They ain't getting of that easy. Well as I said, he lives above her, probably because neither was getting above either, for some time, but this is irrelevant, neither here, nor there, as it were. So, his fellas come over for the poker about once a week and they carry on til all hours, they start late so it does not wakes us up Gov' ner, but they carry, and they carry. Well, me thinks one of his fella split off with my bike. That, again, neither here, nor there, leads me to the ultimate point. I have to file a police report, get the multiple acct. #s for this and that and sort these fucker's flotsam and jetsam out.

God bless you and yours, and if you see a "joy thief" which is different than a "necesity thief"...shoot the fucker in the face. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrr
!!!!!

More wine!

I was Robbie Williams and I forgot my song?

2006-07-25T08:03:00.001-07:00

Last night I awoke at 1:00 a.m., not long after I had initially fallen asleep.

Now, I rarely remember my dreams. However, I am remembering them with greater frequency as I advance in days and years. Last night I was Robbie Williams, English PoP Singer. I have never heard a Robbie Williams song in my life. Why was I Robbie Williams? Anyway, I show up to this high school like ampitheater to do a show, a small show. The type of show like a junior high talent show or small town fund raiser.

I show up with Posh Spice, or Vicky as I call her and then it starts to get really weird. I am hanging out back stage and this is the point where I realize that I am not me, but rather Robbie Williams. The organizers tell me that I will be singing "Such and Such song" of mine of which I have no recollection of, nor any idea how to sing. They tell me that I go on in 2 hours. I start to freak out and Vicky is totally no help, just as she seems that she would not be. I tell her that I have to get out of there when guess who magically appears...Donald Sutherland.

Sutherland, of all people, calms me down. I mean, listen to the guys voice. Anyone that can make me feel like buying O.J. can get me to calm down. He says "hell yes, let's get out of here, we can fix this, we just need some time."

So Sutherland, Posh, and Me, me, but really Robbie Williams head off in the station wagon and end up at TJ MAXX. I know. SO we go in and try to find a CD of the song, so that I can figure the song out and successfully sing this ditty at the talent show, fundraiser, whatever. Except that Sutherland keeps putting on items of clothing whilst the security officer is watching him blatantly burgle the store of its wares. I buy the CD, Sutherland is wearing a hat, vest, and scarf, all of which he has not paid for, and walks right out of the store. Vicky...well, she just kind of follows us out. The security guard manhandles Sutherland, yelling "hey, you have to stay here" and "you can't just walk out with this stuff."

This is when Sutherland pulls out his piece and starts waiving the gun in the security guards face. W.T.F. I know. So we get in the car and start speeding down the roadway, listening to Robbie Williams, ME, back to the gig. Vicky is not saying much, Sutherland is calmly giving tips on how to execute the song with grace during my performance, and I have relaxed realizing that Sutherland has saved, Robby's, MY, gig.

That is when I woke up, freaked out that I was Robby Williams.............

So, I never, ever have listened to Robbie Williams and have not seen a film with Donald Sutherland in a great while. Can anyone explain this dream to me. I have never had a dream where I was someone else. What could have triggered this?

Dude, I am freaked out a little bit.

Wow. So I am off to find a connection between Robbie, Beckham, any Sutherland, Posh, and myself. wish me luck.

Pulled Ham, not Pulled Pork; + the numbers support viewership; and the demise of a course!

2006-07-18T08:17:00.000-07:00

Since I have spoken to you, the viewer, last several things have transpired. As one would suspect that things have always and will continue to transpire this is no new concept. However, I say this in the sense of things worth mentioning have transpired rather than merely the prosaic.

My friend and class mate destroyed a vase that I purchased whilst (my wife and cousin will appreciate this) on holiday in Costa Rica. I predicted that this event would occur, with what has been described as unparalled prescience by another friend and classmate. I told "the breaker" a week prior to the "breaking" that he should closely maintain his bony elbows as to prevent the destruction of the vase that would happen a week later. Thank heavens we purchased two vases or we would be Costa Rican vaseless. I was not horribly upset, but mildly somber. It was more of a slow cooking anger. I think that henceforth I shall refer to this variety of anger as "crock pot pissed." Anyway, I was supposed to be studying with these fellas and ended up answering flash cards during the relatively fruitless process of re-assembling this clay item with both crazy and gorilla glues which cleary, upon viewing this vase, did not work as I had intended it would within my minds eye. The "breaker" assured me, more for the alleviation of his guilt than for my edification, that the vase looked almost as good as it had pre-disintegration.

SIDEBAR: Think of the word disintegration for a moment. Integration is 1 : the act or process or an instance of integrating : as a : incorporation as equals into society or an organization of individuals of different groups (as races) b : coordination of mental processes into a normal effective personality or with the individual's environment
2 a : the operation of finding a function whose differential is known b : the operation of solving a differential equation.

However, Disintegration is the blowing into smithereens of some item into a state of complete destruction.

Obviously the vase was not disintegrated because we reassembled many small pieces in something that more or less resembled the original piece, but not really.

Anyway, I should have been studying and this is what I did. Then, the other study buddy and I quizzed each other with more of these surprising and fascinatingly entertaining educational flashcards. I then went to futbol practice in the stiffling 98 degree heat where only 6 fellas showed up. 6 guys. W.T.F. It is hot, but what the F? happened to the love of the game? I was straight up P.O.ed. We played 3 on 3 until my body felt chilled and tingly. Cleary not a good sensation when the whether is hot enough for cities to promulgate warnings to monitor the elderly and the young.

Moving on, I came home and dined at a rib shack favorite of mine with the wife and Non-Breaker study buddy. Delicious and insiteful. We spoke about how we aren't scenesters and how delighted we were all by this fact. It must cost an awful lot of money to go "out" all of the time just so people will think that you go "out" all of the time. If this makes sense than listen to this one. I am an internal scenester. This is why my wife thinks that I am so fucking cool, and I her. WE STAY IN ALL THE TIME SO THAT PEOPLE KNOW THAT WE STAY IN ALL OF THE TIME. soooooo COOL. Anyway, things were starting to look up right?

I had gotten over the broken vase and my growing feeling that I may be underprepared for this stupid damn test that I had to take on Monday.

Sunday we woke up quite early to get breakfast before my first futbol game in a long time, a long time. Well, the first proper game in a long time. We had a wonderful, well, pretty good breakfast. The conversation is always good when I dine with my wife. I think when I dine with her, I am distracted by her good stuff and then rate the edibles perhaps with a higher regard than I should. Despite this breakfast was good. I then suited up for my game. Butterflies a little, but they disappear once I start. I was fucking rocking it. I am a defensive fortress and it takes about 5 minutes for whatever team I am playing with to say "[my name here] starts back center and comes out only for death or severe injury. He is an animal and we are glad that he is on our team. He will stop a ball with his crotch, face, knee, etc." Well guess what happens? 7 minutes before the half, fighting dispicable heat and an opposing team full of dickheads, I make a fast break and POP!

You know when you are watching a game and you see a player succumb to his own body and you watch in slow motion as it looks like an invisible monster is attacking a players body parts. You know what I mean? When the guy takes off and you see him fall because those invisible hands crush an invisible 2 x 4 into the back of his thigh. He drops and rolls still moved by the momentum he gained before diving. Well that happened to me for the first time in a long while. Usually I stand up and shake it off, but this pain was deep in my right hamstring. It felt like a bowling ball dipped in honey and rolled in broken glass was fighting its way out of my thigh from within and it fucking hurt, FUCKING hurt. I gave the hand signal for subbing out and looked like a one legged California Raisin doing that stupid dance where they move their hands around each other hobbling to "I heard it through the grape vine" with a stupid look on my face.

I hurt like a mo-fo, but being not only proud but thinking if I use the leg it will hurt less later I wrapped my thigh in a role of sports tape and went back out for the rest of the game. YOu know what? I was damn proud to do that and I felt a sense of self respect and gratification that I don't think I have felt in about 2 years. I have felt as though I have met little milestones and small measurables I have set for myself. I was proud of my 'B' in a difficult law school class. I was happy when my wife loved her Christmas present and I knew that she really was. But to have a team of 11 strangers that I met online and began to play futbol with look at me, knowing I was in severe pain, and see me wrap my leg and limp back out to that field and say "Damn, that is a hard mother," well that was just a palpable sweetness that I could taste and smell.........

And then I went to school to study. How anticlimactic! Anyway, after things were seemingly on the upswing, a proverbial punch to the balls.

Let us review the score.

Broken vase, impending final, the job that doesn't pay which leads to the running out of hard currency, and the recent hamstring injury that could rob me of my sweetness on the field VS. the great wife, the mild euphoria from almost winning the game, and the thought that the course is nearing end.

So, I study at school and bring the "breaker" and the other study buddy home to review for several more hours on the Sunday before the final. We review as I look for my power cable to my laptop. Where is the power cable to my laptop? Have you seen the power cable to my laptop? Have YOU?

WIFE: "No, I have not seen it. Where did you have it last?"
Me: "You know I love you right?"
WIFE: "Of course, I love you too."
Me: "Well, with that in mind, If I knew the last place I had it, why the hell would I ask you?"
WIFE: "You don't have to be an asshole you know."
Me: "Whatever, SORRY"
____

Me: "How about you study buddy?"
Study Buddy: "fuck you dude! Why don't you check "breakers" bag, he breaks shit and loses his shit all of the time, maybe he has it."
Me: "Fair enough, you don't have to be an asshole you know."
Study Buddy: "fuck you."
Me: "OK... dick" [under my breath]

Me: "How about you, is it in your bag?"
Breaker: "What?"
Me: "Forget it."

Anyway, I can't find the thing. I knew I had it at school, but thought it was in the house. It was in none of the usual places and so I call school. They don't know where it is.

Add this to my ass and thigh on fire and I am getting pretty P.O.ed. Needless to say it is now Tuesday. Again, I should be doing work but am not. I have since 1) taken the final, upon which I hope I did not shit the bed; 2) found my cable with the assistance of the wonderful Mary at the library of my school. I told her that I loved her and that her thouroughness had rejuvinated my hopes for humanity and saved me 79.95 in cold, hard, U.S. curreny, excluding opportunity cost and shipping; 3) realized that my hamstring injury is much better than I had hoped, as if I had torn muscle it would look as described by a teammate, as if "a bull had rammed its head into my ass,"; and finally, have gotten an 180 gram vinyl double pack record as a temporary sign of good faith by the "breaker" who feels more guilty than he should and is also having his mother, the wonderful woman that she is, purchase us something grand and ethnic from Egypt to replace the Costa Rican vase. Word up.

Final Score. GOOD. Leg is healing, class is done, broken item replaced, cable found, 80 dollars saved, "breaker's" guilt alleviated, I am attending a Chicago Fire Futbol game in lieu of practice which will force me to work on strategy whilst resting my leg, and I saw a friend that I have not seen in some months on the train last night.

I know that this has something to do with those lucky pennies that I found.

HECK YEAH.

I will talk to you loyal readers again in the near future.
I hope my cousin has her baby soon. She is patient, but this is ridiculous.
I will have pizza with my wife tonight.
I can ride my bike in the interim to strengthen my injury.

All is well with the world and 42 people have read my blog thus far. I think it is my wife just refreshing my page to make me feel good.
If you stop in leave a message for me.

Therefore,

Working without pay only works if you give a shit!

2006-07-11T09:22:00.000-07:00

I am anonymous. I wish to remain anonymous.

I am like most people in this world...essentially anonymous.

Get on the web and it's like advertising all of your faults, emotions, sentiments, etc. to the world. One big fat, self-incriminating broadcast. Sure, you are purveying your finest and purest of thoughts, unadulterated and honest. I appreciate this. My employers, past, present, and future may not. I don't really care what those people think. They, however, do care what I think, and how I act, and how I represent them as an organizational entity.

Remember your mother smacking the shit out of you in the middle of a shopping mall for acting like a huge twat. It's not because you were acting like a huge twat. You got wacked for acting like a huge twat next to her and therefore, for making her look like a huge twat that has no control over her spoiled, rotten, and uncontrollable brat. A poor reflection on the management skills of the organizational entity. This is the analogy. Fitting I think. So this is where we begin today, with anonymity.

ZINEDINE ZIDANE.

Not anonymous. Anything but. This man is still a class act in my book. Zinedine Zidane did to Marco Materazzi what I would have done. However, Zidane exercised self restraint. You do not see Coach Raymond Domenach chastizing his player. You do not see Jaque Chirac chastizing his countryman. You do not see the likes of Makelele, Thuram, Ribery, Henry, and the rest of Zidane's brothers blaming the loss on Zidane. THE ITALIANS DID NOT WIN THE 2006 WORLD CUP. THE FRENCH MERELY LOST. PENALTY KICKS ARE SHITE, and no one likes to see a game end this way. Moving on. Had that been me on the pitch, I would not have abided by the FIFA rules of the game. Zidane did. He did not employ the use of his hands to exact cold revenge on the Materazzi. He used his head. I too have been red carded. Upon 70 minutes or so of continuous rough play, disrespect, and the acte finalment of some words spoke regarding my mother I grab an opposing player by the head, gripping a white knuckled hand full of hair and pulled that cheating and lying bastards face into my other hand. The ball was at the opposite end of the pitch. The lying and cheating bastards bloodied face kissed the moist grass. The official pulled his red card from his pocket and placed the card in my face. Unacceptable? Certainly. Excusable? Only by some. Deserved? Absolutely.

When I did this, when I committed that foul, I knew the repurcussions. Perhaps Zidane, blinded by a momentary overtaking of blind fury did not fully understand such repurcussions. Perhaps it was a mistake to commit such a foul with ten minutes left of overtime. Let me direct the following statements to all of the other people out there with their opinions. I will say only this. Maybe it was a mistake, but it was Zidane's to make. His countrymen, his national leader, his coach, and most certainly his family stick by him. For you, it is none of your business. Eric Wynalda, the writers and editors at "Le Monde," Giorgio Chinaglia, and the rest of the World, I don't think that you need me, some anonymous person, of anonymous age and education to tell you that "it was not you on the pitch, head butting a potentially facist in a moment of rage," so kindly keep your comments to yourself. Zinedine has enough to live with. Maybe he regrets his act, maybe he doesn't. That is for him to live with, not you.

That is my first complaint of this week.

Moving on.

I had a wonderful weekend. Full of wine, sport, cinema, conversation, and grand gastronomic fare. Well, I guess not all of the food was that grand. But much of what was consumed was quite delicious. Two Cheese flights, curried and pan seared scallops, grilled lamb loin, honey and cumin cubed chicken, garbanzo and spinich pasta, grape leaves and hummous. Simply delicious. Dined with the wife, had futbol practice, saw and excellent animated film based on a Phillip K. Dick novel. Just enjoyable the entire time. So why don't more people do these types of things. Why can't we have good conversation with other people like I do with my wife. People only want to take about the mundane and the vulgar. Aggravating. Despite all of this I am completely happy at present.

Here is a valid complaint. I will take this to the ombusman/person, my apologies. I have an examination on Monday. I have read every assignment, and missed only two classes. I have put the work in. I will study diligently for the entire week so that I can, with any hope in addition to my hard work, reap what I have sown. There are those among us, out there, that are our doctors, lawyers, dentists, psychologists, butchers, train conductors etc, that do not study like I do. Which is to say that many study perhaps more efficient that I. Others do nothing. They simply do nothing. They fly by night, get the materials for the examination and sweep on past me, doing less work and finally surpass my scores through back door dealings. I don't know how these people acquire these materials and I don't know what they do with all of the time that they are not studying. I know where you think this complaint is going... but you are incorrect. I am upset with myself for allowing them to get to me. I am not upset with them. I am not upset with these people because I know more than them. I am more fit and qualified than most of the people to be a practioner in whatever vocation or challenge I am posed against them in. Do you understand what I am saying. I put the work in to put the work in. For the sake of the experience. I may perform worse then them on the examination. I may be seen as a lesser competitor. When the wind has blown and the debris has settled. I feel whole. I am a complete human being. I have survived the experience and have grown as a result of that experience. I care not how I rank in comparison with those people. I have reached a point in my life where I can honestly say that I, in more instances than not, do not compare myself to others. There will always be those both greater and lesser than I based on a multitude of measurables. I, however, am confident in saying that I am improving. I, inside my mind and body, am improving and becoming a more complete human being. GO ME!

Oh, yes. DO you know something? I am upset about relationships. They just don't seem to be working out for a host of my friends as of late. Is it the alignment of the planets? Are we do for a total solar eclipse in the near future. IS the planet swinging off orbit? I am concerned about these people. I think that they have done some things, subconsciously, that may have jeopardized their relationships. These people are good people and they deserve second chances. They have recognized that they scrabled their priorities and are sincerely penitent. I hope the best for these people. One a woman, the other a man. If I could put them together, I would. I think that they, in another life, would be a great couple. I sincerely empathize with M y S. They feel like they are too old to be messing around with such sloppy relationship woes. You are never to old for anything unless you are dead. Important to recognize.

OH. YOU know what puts me into a tizzy. People who constantly tell you that they want to hang out with you, but never call. Fuck them. I don't mean that. Yes I do. But don't worry. I will get over it. Tomorrow...Not Fuck you.

Saw a couple of severely balance challenged people on the train this morning. Train, not like the Orient Express or the Hiram Bingham to Machu but rather the Chicago EL, or the Tube if you are ignorant and hail from across the pond. So, this dude, parallel to the front of the train must be completely devoid of any knowledge of physics. This is a sad fact. After all, physics is the science of life. Perhaps he is the walking dead. He didn't seem starved for human brains so perhaps there is some other rational excuse. So, anyway. The train moves forward, rapidly. If you stand with your feet shoulder width apart, perpendicular to the front of the train, it is as if you were standing in your living room, feet two feet apart and had your friend push you in the chest. Do you know what would happen? That is right. You would fall flat on your dumb ass. You ride a train as if you were on a snowboard, skateboard, etc. You can almost ride the train in this manner without holding on to the multitude of metal handles provided by the architects of the train cars. Bend the knees a little to absorb the shock. More bend in the front as you travel, less bend in the front as you stop. Lock the opposite leg of the direction you are traveling and voila!!!! No spills, no mess, no interference into the personal space of others. I am going to explain this to those folks in the very near future. Someone could get hurt.

Speaking of HURT. Have you all seen the "Elephant Man" starring Anthony Hopkins and John Hurt as John Merrick, in real life Joseph Merrick. This is the story of a man horribly disfigured by a disease which causes him to have bone disfigurement, elephantitis, unable to use certain body parts, etc. Mr. Merrick, in the beginning of the film is found by the good Doctor, Anthony Hopkins, at a side show. The Doctor, rescuing Mr. Merrick from this side show life soon feels that he has just displaced Mr. Merrick from one side show to another, that of the medical commmunity. After a short time the Doctor finds that Mr. Merrick is not mentally deficient, but merely deformed. This is a great story of the power of friendship and that books should certainly not be judged by their covers. I like to think that I would be able to see past such deformities to find the beauty inside another human being. I think that I could. I have done it before, but one never knows.

The line from this film that is most striking is when Mr. Merrick accidentally knocks over a child and is pursued through the train station only to be disroped and have all of his deformities shown to the riotous and unreasonable public. He shouts to them in despair, fear, and anger that "I am not an animal, I am a human being."

Very poignant in today's climate of xenophobia and paranoia.

Speaking of Paranoia. This film that I spoke of earlier, the Phillip K. Dick novel. That is a true display of paranoia gracefully conveyed by the artist to those with a mind open enough to appreciate the medium and style with which Dick offers up this story. The film, almost always less fulfilling than the book, was quite good. There seemed to be some in the audience, which was quite mixed, that were on some mind altering substances. They laughed at times when only a psychedelic causes an inside joke to force a conspicous and collective laugh. The real pinch in this case is that if you have not read this book of technology, drugs, law enforcement, conspiracy, and the ultimate dementia, then you don't know how the story ends, and this particular story does not end well my friend. So these junkies are slowly declining into a likely near vegetative state or just outright death. The film seemed to glorify this drug use, which clearly, the book did not. So I hope that those kids weren't tripping out because the common ending of the book and the film was Phillip K. Dicks dedication to his friends who have been lost or severely impaired due to drug use, listing the names followed by one of four potential fates. Those names were followed by either a DECEASED, PERMANENT PSYCHOSIS, PERMANENT BRAIN DAMAGE, or PERMANENT LIVER DAMAGE. Not a message to have the mind soak up during a trip. Hope they are OK...

Well, it seems, children, that I have run out of time for this broadcast. Hope to have the counter up soon when I get to a terminal that will allow me to modify cookie settings.

Until then...Auf Wiedersehen. Oh, that reminds me. Heidi is on tomorrow. SWEEEEET!

so what I was trying to say

2006-07-05T07:16:00.000-07:00

So anyway, from the last post, what I was trying to say is that I know two little fellows who are so smart and got it going on. One kid is 3 years old and the other 2. They are so cool and smart and have such great parents that you just hate to see other children who don't have the means. Therefore, their parents, if they cannot take care of these children should not have children. Not these kids though, and certainly not their parents. If you cannot devote the time and resources to raising great kids, don't have them. That is it.

Curbs and Gutters

2006-06-30T08:52:00.000-07:00

Curbs and Gutters. Barriers and Runoff. I have been thinking a great deal about what is really going on in life. Seems an awful short run of living to be preoccupied with so much non-sensical bullshit, don't ya' think?

I mean, I have been having waking dreams of instances from my childhood and just past memories lately. It has been fantastic, but time seems to be speeding up. Kind of a drag when you think about it, so I have decided to meditate, and meditate more. My world is my world, my words my words. I can try and explain such things to other people but no one, no one will ever truly understand the full significance of how I see and feel things. No one can. It is not because we don't understand each other, it is simply because human limitations prevent such adequate communication. Until minds can meld, or some similar process where you see the world, YOUR WORLD, from another person's complete bio-mental-physical viewpoint, communication will be less than 100% efficient. Once we get to such a point I believe the human life will progress. Because the person on the ground who watched their child, father, sister, wife, etc. die will be able to put the person who killed them into the shoes of the bereaved. That kind of feeling and sentiment is some pretty powerful stuff. The whole collective level of consideration, compassion, empathy will increase exponentially among the whole populous. Wouldn't that be nice? I think that it would be.

Despite our current inefficient state, things seem to be getting better. At least among my circle. But chew on this. We think that the world is becoming more progressive, however, it seems that the people [many people and in a general sense] that are spawning more people are from less educated, more supersticious, less wealthy, more populated areas. The population is declining in the more rationale [supposedly] and more developed states, or regions. The more rationale is a debatable description, but essentially a general truth for our purposes.

For example, East Timor is growing at 2.08% but is the poorest country in the world with a GDP per capita is $400-500 and their unemployment is at 50%

Further, Somalia is at 2.75% growth with GDP hovering at a blustery $500-600.

2-3% doesn't seem like much, and after infant mortality and life expectancy figured in, well it really ain't much. But look at some of these numbers...

U.S. is growing at a whopping, .91% with a GDP of $41,800. Germany's growth is -.02%, yes that is a minus, they are actually shrinking, their GDP is at $30,400. These countries contain, but are certainly and not necessarily run by un-self-serving and rational leaders. These countries have high levels of secondary and tertiary education such that people from all over the world, many elite, send their children here to be educated.

My point, and I will support this theory with additional resources, is that the world of more easily swayed people to fanaticism is on the growth, while those more rational, finding that less children is the answer, or in some cases no children, for them. The world is growing less capable of supporting habitability for increasing populations. We know that the world is warming, however, we don't know if the effects of that warming will be a massive and gradual cooling, a rapid cooling, a massive and irreversible warming, or what. We just don't know. What they do know, what we know, is that we had better make some changes. Having more children in over-populated areas, consuming more energy, giving less back, is not the answer.

Moving forward... on to the predominatly Catholic countries we can see some interesting results.

The Philipines-Growth: 1.8%, GDP: $5,100, Religion: 89% Roman Catholic
Mexico-Growth: 1.16%, GDP: $10,000, Religion: 80.9% Roman Catholic
Ireland-Growth: 1.15%, GDP: $41,000, Religion: 88.4% Roman Catholic
Guatemala-Growth: 2.27%, GDP: $4,700, Religion: Almost entirely Roman Catholic.

Basically, if I had more time today, and when I have more time later I will project further numbers to show that the Catholic church's current move to relax their long standing policy against the use of contraception {see also CFFC[Catholics for a Free Choice]} not only necessary to long term sustainability of the planet, but it is rational for people to do more than just procreate. Think about how much happier Hitler and Saddam would have been with a little hot lovin', am I right?

So, anyway, I have to split. I have a motion for summary judgment to discuss with a colleague and a sandwich to pick up for my wife.

I would also like to thank Hasselhof for the sweet line...
"Kickin' Ass with Class!"

Ayuvedra, Futbol, and Beats

2006-06-21T08:46:00.000-07:00

"Ayurveda is a Sanskrit word that means "the science of lifespan." The word ayurveda is made up of two roots: ayur means life and veda means knowledge. According to ayurveda, every human being was created by the cosmos as either male energy, Purusha, or female energy, Prakruti. Purusha is choiceless passive awareness, while Prakruti is choiceful active consciousness. A person's self-identify, called Ahamkara, is affected by three universal qualities: satva, rajas, and tamas. Satva equips an individual with the ability to have clarity of perception. Conversely, tamas is responsible for periods of confusion and deep sleep, as well as the tendency towards inertia and darkness. Rajas causes movement, sensations, feelings and emotions, everything that makes us human beings."

Thanks to ***http://library.thinkquest.org/24206/ayurveda-medicine.html

So basically, the human body is made of five elements: Space, Air, Water, Fire, and Earth. While man, and woman, are essentially, a microcosm of nature, three distinct body types exist among humans. Those body types are called DOSHAS. Those doshas explain movement, gesturing, and the metabolic functions of the person. The three doshas are comparable to the pyshchosomatic bodytypes of endomorph, mesomorph, and ectomorph. Now we get into what two friends have either in the passed or are currently studying as they relate to ayuvedra. I have an friend name Wayne, he should be safe because only his parents call him that, but he studies some far out things. Shamanism, Ayuvedric Medicine, Organic Foods, Meditation, Trancendental Meditation, Yogic Studies, etc. My friend Dee, as I will call her, is studying to help people look and feel beautiful, from the inside out. They call her studies Esthiology and Wellness. She is kinda far out as well. I should introduce them. My wife thinks that It would be hilarious to put them in a room together. They might just float away. They are kind of Airy, or can be. This is a complement. Trust me.

Moving on, the comparable body types in Ayuvedra are Vata ( Sounds like Vah-Tah), Pitta (Sounds like Pih-Tah), and Kapha (Sounds like Kah-Fa). Vata is comprised of Ehter and Air; Pitta of Fire and Water; and Kapha of Water and Earth. According to the religion, or philosophy, or studies, or however, and to what extent
YOU buy into these thoughts, you should lend some creedence to these ideas. Once explained they make a great deal of sense. While each of Vata, Pitta, and Kapha, exist in every cell and organ, including the male sperm and female egg, and most people have a mix of doshas, one type is predominant in all humans.

"All in all, while there are only three doshas, there are really seven body types in ayurveda: mono-types (vata, pitta, or kapha predominate), dual-types (vata-pitta, kapha-pitta, or vata-kapha), and equal types (vata, pitta, and kapha in equal proportions). Health occurs in an individual when he or she develops a balance or equilibrium among the three doshas. This equilibium prevents disease and gives the individual a peace of mind."

So, last Saturday, Dee says to me "I think that you are a Pitta." "I say why," and then we got off of topic. But last night, as I sat with Wayne and the wife, after some quite delicious Korean food, I had Bulgogi, they had Bi Bim Bop, Wayne says, "Dude, you are a total Pitta" Well, my intrigue was struck like a heavy minor chord at a 'Slayer' show. So here I am. Let me explain the Pitta body type to you, and those of you that have some idea of who I am can decide.

PITTA: This metabolic type is rather predictable, especially in comparison to the Vata type. A person with a dominant Pitta body type usually has a medium build, is strong, has stamina and endurance, and maintains a stable body weight. Pittas are generally very intelligent (questionable), quick-witted (possibly), and overly critical (fuck you if you think so) : ). They posses little patience (are we done yet?), a short temper (not so much anymore, wanna fight about it?), and may erupt from time to time. Now, the things that are generally going to set our blood to boil and cause us the most aggravation are those things that have a kernal of truth to them. This Pitta thing is a helluva lot closer to describing me than any kind of pseudo new-age star reading bullshit. Any Ayuvedra is probably about 5,000 years old, so hey, they might be on to something. Wayne tells me that I should lay off the salty and spicy foods. As you can guess, they likely exaccerbate any conditions that may result from being a Pitta, hypertension, anxiety, etc. I no longer erupt, that sounds kind of naughty, no? But I do not get so angry anymore. I know people are assholes, why be surprised? But, I have to work on the overly critical. As my loyal 2 readers will attest to, this has a great deal to do with being the "OK" guy, as opposed to the 'awesome,' 'fantastic,' 'sweet' guy. Perhaps if I lower my standards a pinch, I wouldn't be overly critical. I don't demand success, I don't demand perfection. What I do expect is that people try as hard as they can If they are doing something for me, and to a greater extent if they are doing something that they are passionate about. Otherwise, what the fuck is the point. There is a fella that I am related to through two marriages. He is as standup as they come. He just did a triathalon. I don't know why he did it. I guess he was trying to push himself. He damn near came in dead last. But he finished. He took that bastard by the horns and shook its head into submission and he finished. That was awesome, not just ok. So, you see, I am getting much better.

Even with my wife. She is the best lady on the planet. I know that SHE knows that is how I feel, deep down, but she likes to hear me say. Look, I am a man of few words. I didn't used to be, but then I realized that the more people say, in a majority of cirumstances, the dumber they sound. That is not true for some people, but it may very well be true for me, so don't take offense.

Moving on to Futbol. Righteous stuff. I have had the unique opportunity to see many games this cup. The work gig, pretty all right for no pay. the School shit, exactly that. Despite all of this I have watched damn near every 2:00 game. Sweden v. England, Germany v. Poland, Brazil v. Australia, Czech v. Ghana, Italy v. U.S. FUCKING AWESOME. I usually have One Guiness with each game. ONLY 125 calories. BRILLIANT. Anyway, this has been fantastic. I am on a new training kick and I Have found a team. My goal: to qualify for the U.S. 2010 Team and play in South Africa. Yes, I am fully aware of the daunting loftiness of my goal. However, if I train that hard, something good will come of it. Worst case scenario, I become as fit as I was at 17, which is really going to hurt the wife's eyes and my heart. Best case, I am playing in South Africa. That would suck!

Now, and finally. I have been making some music. I am about to have my humdinger of an Ableton box live. Transfering synths to a massive box and midi-synched to all of my gear. I want to play that music so loud that it creates a 'disturbance in the force.' What I really want to tell you all is to go buy the Gnarls Barkley album "St. Elsewhere." It is the BOMB, the Shit, or whatever, people be sayin' these days. Cee-Lo from Goodie Mob and Dangermouse. Off the chain. Buy it.

Konichiwa and Sayonara................................................................................................................................................................................................................Bitches.

Nobody Knows Who I Am

2006-06-21T07:39:00.000-07:00

Nobody knows who I am. The fault lies not with them, but with me. My mind is not lazy, but my mouth is. My body is not lazy, but my eyes and ears are. I just don't want to look for the answer or listen to somebody try and explain or justify their actions to me. I just want them to do whatever it is that they think they need to do or want to do. I don't want to talk about things, I want to do those things.

My wife will tell you that I am an "OK" guy. Rarely is something 'awesome,' 'fantastic,' 'superp,' or whatever. I am an "OK" guy because I have refined my tastes over years and things just don't exite me that easily anymore. Things that I love or have a great deal of passion invested in exite me more than the inadequacy of the English language, or likely any other language, can describe. I could explain to you what those things that ignite my passion are but I am afraid that they will lose some of their punch if I share them with you...so I will keep them for me. Just for me.

Despite all of this, I am a happy person. I do let many things slide by me without causing aggravation. When we can make these aggravations gnats instead of lions the world becomes happier. The world becomes happier because one person becomes happier. Sure, the increase may be negligible, but the ocean gains size with every drop. There are far too many stubborn and ignorant people in this world who cannot recognize that they know nothing. I know nothing. In the grand scheme of things, many of us know nothing. I would love to give you a great quote, but not today, some other time. The crux of this thought is that it is impossible to know everything, even a percentage of a fraction of everything. So be wary of those people that claim to know much, and even more wary of those who claim to know more. Those people cannot be trusted, and often, when it comes down to necessity, those people never seem to come through in moments that demand courage or compassion. So there, you ignorant phuckos out there.

I am at work right now. I am supposed to be working right now. I guess that I am working right now. Just not doing work suited to this environment. "Yes, I am doing work...I am blogging. Hopefully I am making someone else's day better by writing something that they felt, and thought that no one else felt like that. Hopefully." So I guess that this, what I am doing, as compared to what I should be doing, may very well be the more important work. Look, It is not as if I have a pile of time sensitive work staring me in the face, scornfully taunting..."finish me, finish me now, or your life." I don't have anything. Everything they ask that I do, I do. Apparently I do it well, or so they tell me. I attribute the lulls in work to a lack of time or organization on their behalf. Of course it may not be their fault, but it also MAY be their fault. I am in no position to speculate on the reasons for gaps in the assignments that they give to me. There are 3 other summer employees at my place of business and not all of them seem to be getting as much work as I. It should be noted, and noted well, that those 3 are paid employees, whereas I am not. Additionally, those 3 have progressed, or scratch that, are merely further along in their educations than I. In the grand scheme, back to this grand scheme, what is this grand scheme? We will discuss the grand scheme shortly, this advanced educational position means very little. I suspect that I can do the same things and types of tasks that these others can do, but for their additional year of education on me. In fact, I am probably 4 or 5 years older than them. Which means that I have 4 to 5 years of LIFE EDUCATION on them where they have 1 year of LAW SCHOOL on me. WHOA, stop the presses, hold the phones, and call the fucking President. These guys have a year of school on me. A year of awful, dreadful, monotonous law school. YOU SIMPLY CANNOT BELIEVE HOW MUCH SMARTER THAT YEAR OF EDUCATION HAS MADE THEM. They might be geniuses. The shear expansion of their brains may have given them mind control powers. We had better make some hats of tin foil to protect ourselves from their penetrating mind control waves.

Sorry, gotta little out of control there. Wild Rants, Just Wild Rants. Anyway, my point is that...

1. Working for free is just lame. I cannot explain to you how difficult it is to put your best foot forward, do all of the work, do it well, and then just not give a shit. In fact, I really couldn't care much less. The worst of it is, that these people cannot believe how hard I work. I truly believe that if most of them, the lawyers that give me work, were in my position they would have quite a severe case of the 'fuckits.' But that is neither here nor there, because I am in the hot seat and they hold the lever.

2. Back to the whole 'I know more than you,' issue. Well, you probably don't know more than me. We might just be on an even keel. Wouldn't that just piss you off? What stings those people's egos the most is that I may very well know more than them, and I don't know anything at all. OUCH!!! That smarts. The damn voodoo that people try and sell to you on a daily basis is unbelievable. This culture, our culture, not the global culture, but there are some culprits out there among the usual suspects (you know who you are England and China), forces people to work and over work and be workaholics. The problem is that education is shit, many teachers are shit, math and science are shit. And people just don't give a shit. They needn't have to. We have plenty to go around, what with the state of education and teachers. We are working more, to produce less quality, to buy stuff that we don't need. I cannot speak to this issue any longer. I have nothing left to say about this without digressing into a massive diatribe that people have neither the patience nor the inclination to read.

3. What is life? What is our definition of life? What is your definition of life? What quality of life do you seek? The chain? The repeating chain? Does that really make people happy? What could you do different starting right now? What would you do differently if you could do it again? Me, myself, I don't have the answers. What I do know is this. My grandparents had their children, my parents. Now I will have a child...someday. Would I like more than one child? I don't know. But we keep making children, and the planet keeps turning. But if I am all right, and I have a decent moral sense, no my role in a global world, respect differences of culture and religion, and treat other humans with decency that treat me with decency then why are there so many damn ASSHOLES out there?

Here is one possibility. The people who treat others with respect like I do are not the people making babies because they realize that their progeny will have little chance of getting on well and be outnumbered by all of those creating asshole babies.

The second possibility. The people making babies that are all right human beings are on the increase and we have to wait and see maybe two generations down the effects of the increase in overall goodness in the world. I would like to place all of my faith in this option, I hope that I am not merely deluding myself.

The third possibility. We are just a race of slightly rational, warrior monkeys and we are all fucked. The Earth cannot sustain our populous because we take and take and take and give nothing back to the planet. There is no point. There is nothing but this. I hope this is not the outcome. But everything in my gut tells me that this is what is happening. Wars, fighting, over population, wage enslavement, and workaholism. Wow. not a good scene.

Anyway, I don't know why I started this blog today. I just felt like, i don't know. I guess that I just didn't really feel anything.

I have this class that I have been going to for school. Nothing fun, like music or gong fu, just law. The class could be exciting. Guess what though? could be and are are a world apart. I don't want to go. I will go, I will also watch Netherlands play Argentina at 2:00 as well. I hope that lifts my spirits a bit, because despite my good fortune as of late, I still feel numb. I feel like I am watching my life like a show, rather than participating in it. If you know me, OH, I forgot, NOBODY KNOWS WHO i AM. Well, I don't believe in fate. I can do whatever I want to do. That is one thing that everyone should know earlier on in their lives, that way we would not have to say "IF i could go back" because we would not have to. Anyway, I don't believe in fate, which makes the whole living thing kind of a heavy drag lately. Because If you feel like you are watching your life, then you don't have much control. I guess that I will just have to try harder.

On a lighter note I have been told that I am a Pita, through and through. Pita is a body, mind, personality, skin, innards, type of person in the Ayuvedric studies. I am going to start a new post to describe the lighter stuff. That ought to be something. Stay tuned.

Oh F It.

2006-06-18T14:00:00.000-07:00

Fear is not the source of all love.

Organization and minimalist redaction is quite likely the way to happiness.

A clear head is often overrated. A clear body is not.

I called my father for father's day and my brother for his birthday. It felt good. My other brother won't call back. I wish that he would. Apparently his phone is not working, he is living in a distant city away from where he usually lives and has not contacted anyone. He was supposed to join the Army, which is a FUCKING mistake. I don't know what his deal is. I don't know what my deal is. My deal is not great, but it seems better than his at this point. Shit.

Things that make other people happy often make me sad. The rationale behind this opposite effect is simple. When I think of those happy things I immediately think of mine or other people's deaths. Morbid, I know. However, I guess that I am preparing myself for the inevitable. That got me to thinking that maybe I should stop drinking.
Not water and juice, but the booze. Maybe I will just stick to wine. It seems to treat me pretty well. What can I say?

Anyway, I have been doing a great deal of introspective thinking lately. I don't think that I will like working on the weekends very much. It is damn near impossible to work as much as our businesses and firms expect us to. It is bred within the culture to work work and work. Because we work so much, others have to work that much because that is what is expected. It seems however, that the people not working so much are the same folks that bullshit their afternoons away. Do you know what the hard workers get for their efforts? More work and the responsibility to carry the social loafing losers through their careers. Well, I propose that we cut out the fat, find more quality workers, and tighten up the teams with those that can carry their weight. We would have more responsible and responsive workforces and we would have to work less because we would be more efficient in less time.

I just think that I am in kind of a bad place right now and I shouldn't be. Things are going relatively well for me. I am working, for free. Well that is not so great, but the experience is good. I have been training and playing soccer. I have been watching world cup action. Fantastic. I have been hanging out with my wife. But, I cannot help but feel melancholic lately despite these great things...

I told my wife that I want to sell most of my stuff and start training even more. No more cigarettes, less booze, all organic food. I just want to change my life, but I don't want to add anything. I only want to rid myself of what I already have. I don't feel the need to use something external as a crutch for the strength that I have within myself.

I think that is about enough for today.

Bush, Bad Men, Burkas, and Bullshit

2006-04-12T16:59:00.000-07:00

WWI did not start because of the Ottoman empire, but they helped.
WWII did not start because the of the Nazis, but they helped.

WWIII will not start because of Iraq, but hell if this ain't the beginning, ergo, they helped.

Now, I am not blaming Iraq, because frankly, Iraq did nothing. The people of Iraq did nothing. They live everyday, just like we do. They farm, they work, they go to school, they raise cattle, they are artisans, teachers, doctors, soldiers, the whole lot, just like us. I do not like Saddam Hussein. He is guilty of crimes against humanity. However, I don't know to what extent he lied. He seemed to just do whatever he wanted. He may have lied, but I don't have examples.

Now, George Walker Bush. W has lied. He lies all of the time. I don't know if he realizes that he is a liar. I don't like W. I don't like him for different reasons than most people don't like him. And many people don't like him. [even if polls are not accurate to +-5 points, 33% is not a high approval rating].

The deal is that if CEOS acted like World Leaders the SEC, IRS, FBI, and DOJ would sack these bastards and send them to Guantanamo. Not a good scene if you believe in Due Process of Law under the 14th Amendment. If you don't believe in Due Process don't worry. According to our current administration it doesn't exist. Anyway, these bastards are at best irresponsible. At worst they are wanton, depraved, infantile, ignorant, and just plain mean...

Regarding their Christianity... I love Christianity. I am a bit out of practice, and my beliefs are questionable. However, I am not afraid of what comes after. I have doubts, but I am not afraid. Moreover, I am on no crusade to sway the masses of the world. Even if I am not considered by others to be a good Christian, I am.

Here is why.
1. I do not kill
2. I do not cheat
3. I do not hurt others
4. I scorn myself when I judge others [even if I didn't I would still not go to hell, or wherever, if I did].
5. I live my life loving those I care about, and treating those that I do not love with respect.

Now, this belief system, which I believe, is in accordance with nearly every religion of the world, is my belief system. I did not need anyone to tell me this but my parents, who themselves, are good people.

My belief system, while not broadcast to the world and personal to myself and those that know me, is inopposite of the leaders of the world. They lie, cheat, steal, and harbor and assist their like minded co-horts. This is all done under the guise of what is good for the people of the world [which it is not] and necessary for world peace [which, by its very nature, simply cannot be].

Follow my logic for just a minute...
1. We need to fight terrorism for world peace.
2. World peace is necessary to make the world a better place.
3. God wants the world to be a better place.
4. The world can be a better place by fighting terrorism.

Makes sense right. Yes. Here is how it really is...
1.We need to fight terrorism, because we really need oil.
2.We need oil to make money for the bigshots.
3.The bigshots need to make money in order to provide us with material things.
4.We need material things because we have been raised on these things, and once you grow accustomed to such things you cannot deal without them.
5.We need these things, because without them we are really nothing. What we buy defines us.
6.These things define us, because we are what we buy.

Sounds unreasonably circular doesn't it? Yes it does. Know what else? It is wrong.

I am willing to bet, and I am not a gambling man, that we are not what we buy. We are the sum of the parts of our life.

I wager, again, not a betting man, that the relationships we forge are more important than anything that can be bought.

These relationships are founded on love, respect, laughter, friendship, etc. I would trade everything that I owned for my wife, family, friends, and all of the beautiful memories that I keep in my special places. Wouldn't you?

What I am trying to say is that when people are forced to think about all of the shitty things and people in the world and all of the innocent victims of what is being perpetrated by corporations, governments, and all around bad men, we should think about all of the people in the world that are just like us.

People of Denmark, the U.S., the Filipinas, the French, the Iraquis, the Serbs, the Russians, the Germans, the Australians, the Japanese, and all of the other people working to make enough money so that they can spend as much time with the people that they love, and love to hang out with. I don't want to fight a war against people that I don't know that are just like me. I don't want to fight. Most of all, I don't want some asshole, who has never had to work for anything in his life sacrificing the lives of innocent people for money, oil, vendettas, or any other god damned reason. There is no justification for this, and frankly, it is un-Christian, un-American, un-human-fucking-being, and just plain damn wrong.

Please, I beg of you, think about how much you have. Then, think about what you need. I bet that what you have is way more important than what you need. When shit starts getting you down, take 10 seconds and think.

If world leaders actually thought. Well, if they thought, we wouldn't be in this shit. I guess these fellas just don't have the same values as us. I don't know...

Isn't if funny how drunk people always say "an lemme tellya anodther thin?" and other life oddities.

2006-04-07T14:50:00.000-07:00

I read for a better part of the day. It wasn't a bestseller, but it was OK for property law.

Yesterday I had a bunch of wine with some friends. The night before, I read a bunch of property and went and had some wine with another friend and my cool-ass wife. I like wine. It doesn't make me the drooling mess that liquor tends to. Well, that is what liquor does to me! Whoa!! Can't drink the whiskey anymore. Does me wrong, like a woman scorned. Mama. That stuff is bad news. The worst.

Anyway, I had some wine with some friends yesterday. We talked and drank, then talked some more. Then we really started drinking. Over the following two nights I had great conversation over wine and fantastic food. The topics of interest included...

1. Metallurgy.

2. Phillip K. Dick-Award winning science fiction, which has become science faction author.

3. Building cars.

4. The burning man festival.

5. How to fight and how not to fight. If you are getting hit in the fact you know "how not to fight."

6. University.

7. Wealthy Grandparents whose fortunes were gained and lost.

8. Whether Salvador Dali was crap, a genius, selfish, or a thief
9. What is better? French or Italian wine [American wine, as you know, is already capital and chief of the list].

10. Debated about the following statements "Intel cofounder Gordon Moore stated in 1964 that the amount of information storable on a given amount of silicon had roughly doubled every year since the technology was invented. Known as Moore's Law, this held true until the late 1970s, at which point the doubling period slowed to 18 months, where it still sits today." Pretty strange right? Wait.

11. How Ray Kurzweil predicts the singularity [where information plateaus and more loosely at what point Man's Creation [the machine] surpasses his creator]], and at what point people with either 1. Be free to conduct themselves as human beings are purported to be, enjoying education and life, or 2. Where the machines take over realizing that they can conduct life more efficiently than humans and just start eating them.

12. How Juliana Hatfield is cool, but old Liz Phair was cooler.

13. The current levels of unemployment in depressed areas and the effect that the American Automotive Industry is a weighty factor in this depressive economy of scale.

14. Vertical Integration of Corporations and how it is highly difficult to attain.

15. The massive increase of resource consumption in Asia and how at some point in the near future current areas of cheap labor will decrease to a point that manufacturing will increase again in pockets worldwide. Moreover, how this will either lead to decrease in unemployment requiring people to do jobs that have since disappeared domestically or increase unemployment because more of these jobs will then be automated.
Depending on which happens, technological development will either spur like hell increasing the levels of education required and hopefully increasing overall intellectual thought globally, or the far scarier thought; people will digress and de-evolve to points not seen in centuries. NICE!!!

16. Meditative learning and the redirection of societal focus from anti-social modern living to the fostering and development of strong human interaction and companionship. If the latter occurs, I extrapolate that these globally dispersed collectives will also spur technological development, directed and organized consensus thought to help eliminate through creative thoughts, may of the problems facing the world today [including, but not limited to, immigration reform, modern health care, renewable fuel resources, increased organic food production, etc.].

17. How fruits are excellent in certain pasta dishes as they subdue a bit of the salty heavy tastes and enhance the herbs.

18. How children, and more importantly anyone of any age, has the ability to do anything they want. I have not yet figured out how to realize this, but I am working on it.

19. Yoga.

20. The difficulty of finding a decent job, even when you are highly qualified, but the employer just doesn't know that.

21. Alternative careers for talented people.

22. Neko Case, Bloc Party, Interpol, and a host of others.

23. The military

24. And some other things.

Anyway, as I briefly alluded to earlier in this statement, this list is not exhaustive. Because I can't go drinking wine all of the time I will now spend some time practicing my Spanish and trying to work on solutions to some of these little deals that I have mentioned.

Oh, how about that Tom DeLay? I am listening to NPR go on about Tom DeLay. Does anybody feel sorry for this guy?

Why? He fucked up. Some really dogmatic creeps who are impeccable judges of character elected this due, and he fucked them and didn’t even kiss them. He stole money, voted for the lobbyists, not for his constituents, he sold his soul to the devil for an increased salary, and he got caught.

Do you know what they do to thieves in this country?
1) They build another prison, because we are running out of spaces to put criminals that could likely be reformed and put to work contributing to society.

2) The next thing they do is dehumanize these people, even further than our society does to everyone [buy new shoes, buy Axe body spray, buy a Jaguar, buy some Budweiser, buy a wife [e-harmony?], buy a life, buy McDonald burgers, but how often do you see commercials for Universities?]].

3) Then they lock them up with BAD people, BAD people, who just make these potential reformed people BAD people themselves. BAD people.

4) Then sometimes the system, not the judiciary necessarily, but the executive and the legislative [this is not just isolated to our system] under the guise of good Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Baptist, Lutheran, and other faiths put people to death.
a. An eye for an eye leaves everyone blind!!

Nevertheless, you get the idea. Stuff is crazy. So what do you do? Well, here is my take on the issue...

1. Hold doors open for people. Most people will be surprised that not everyone is an asshole yet. Because of this act of kindness some people will actually continue to do good things, for at least a while, because their faith in humanity has been rekindled. If they don't say thank you, just do what my wife does. Say "YOUR WELCOME" forcefully, in a stern but polite tone.

2. Talk to children like they were adults. They will get it. Their minds are sponges. I am working on how to make mine like a sponge again, instead of a rotten pumice stone. Anyway, they get what you are saying, they just can't tell you how full of crap you are until their speech becomes more articulated.

3. If somebody looks like they need help, ask them if they need help. If they want your help, they will say yes. If they don't need help, at least you asked. The worst thing that you can possibly do is look at them, with the other 20 assholes standing around you, paralyzed like you have never seen a person nor a person holding three bags, a baby, and a stroller before in your entire life. Trust me. It is likely that you have seen this before. Don't be awestruck or amazed. Get off your fat ass and help the person. Damnit.

4. Do something nice for someone. If they look tired ask them if they need a coffee. If they are crying, ask them if they need a tissue. Haven't you ever felt like shit before, or are you Iron Man? Duh Duh Duh Duh Duh Dunnna nunna na nuh na na na. You, my friend, do not have boots of lead. Ask them, if they need something.

5. Have some fun. I know firsthand, that all work will drive you nuts. Now, I don't mean to get blindingly drunk and start breaking things that do not belong to you. While that can sometimes be fun, you should take that behavior to a wooded area or a room made of Nerf. Not the city, and certainly not your house. Have a cocktail. If you no longer, or have never imbibed, have a smoothy. Add fem-boost if you like.

6. Don't be a dick. I know for some of you this is easier said than done. Most likely all of you dicks out there act that way because you are really pussies. Even more likely, your Mom or Dad were dicks. If I had an arm growing out of my ass would you super glue a Barbie arm to your bum? Exactly. Following faulty logic "post hoc ergo propter hoc, trans.-"after this, therefore because of this," is just kind of dumb. Think about it. If you had to run away from a dog and you fell as you were running, was it because of an oil shortage in Bangladesh? Just because you know and hang out with a bunch of dicks does not mean you have to follow suit. Unless you are an unsophisticated robot or a really stupid reincarnated dog you should be able to at least try this experiment with little adverse consequence. Try it, maybe you will like it.

Again, just some observations, comments, concerns, etc. I told you that this was the type of content here. Do you think that I am a liar? Well, maybe I am, but if these are lies, they are good. Maybe I should work for Phillip Morris?

Hey...I've got some resumes to send out.

I am a zombified mess!

2006-04-05T15:57:00.000-07:00

Is this it? Is this what I have to look forward to? This fucking sucks!

6:30-Wake up!

6:32-I am awake. Kind of.

6:35-press the button on the coffee machine with my elbow with my fingers jammed into my ears because it is a "grind and brew" and it sounds like cats being blended into a frappe. It is fucking lound and far too much to deal with at 6:35.

6:45-likely in the shower. Can't shit because my body is not working. I don't shave unless I have to. Because I am a law student who is not like the genius, robot, monkey slaves, man behind the green curtain gunners who are in the top whatever %, I don't have a job. It doesn't matter that I have some 6 years of actual work experience, because they want to mold you into their pets. I don't have a job for the same reason that the army doesn't want 29 year olds. We don't like to listen and we know what we're doing. Anyway, in the shower it goes like this...
6:46 wash what used to be my hair
6:47-48 wash my body
6:49 wash my face
6:50 brush my teeth, yes in the shower stupid, while all of the scum and filth rinse down to be refiltered as carcinogenic drinking water washes away with my body wash.

6:52-ask my wife where my wedding ring is. I usually keep it on but she makes me take it off when I sleep. I love her, but I don't find this ritual to be necessary.

6:57-after wandering around the house looking for something that I know I need but can't remember what the fuck it was, i sit down for a minute and jam 2 cups of coffee that I load with ice so that it doesn't burn my face. If you drink coffee as fast as I do without ice in it you will not be able to taste anything that you put in your mouth for two days. Furthermore, stringy pieces of flesh hanging from my pallatte and gums will bother me all day, and cause me to lose focus when I should be listening to someone who thinks that what they are saying is important.

7:02-Listening to Diane Sawyer and Charlie Gibson tell me bullshit stories because they tell the local weather more often than NPR. I don't belive this to be true but I don't argue with anyone this early. Remember ladies...swimsuit season is upon us, don't forget to ask your doctor about how you can shave off the fat underneath your arms. Diane told me!

7:04-put on boxers and think "damn, I wish I had time to eat"

7:05-throw some clothing on and hope that there is not some event which requires me to wear a suit today that I have forgotten about.

7:08-check my planner [lame] and check my e-mail [more lame] to confirm that I am not missing something that I have to do today.

7:10-7:30-dress, misc. zombie motions, hope that I have to shit before I get to school, where the bathrooms smell like "fabreeze dog shit pot pourie."

7:40-7:50-throw everything into my messenger back including 3 books, one computer, assorted highlighters and pens that may or may not work when I need them the most. I should have done this last night, but again, I did not.

7:52-8:00-walk to the train

8:00-wait in hopeful anticipation that I can get an inside seat so some asshold doesn't jam his crotch into my face while reading the newest issue of Maxim to figure out how he can get a date that puts out on the first date and the coolest cars out on the market this year [either a jag or beemer].

8:05-train is late. My time is being wasted.

8:07-train arrives. It looks like the 18-wheeler trucks on the freeway full of cattle. Get on. Everybody on the train hates you. Their jobs suck. Imagine that.

8:08-Business men do not offer their seats to the eldery and the pregnant. Armageddon is nigh. Respect and common deceny was flushed down the toilet this morning with the lost hopes and dreams of every child in the free world.

I haven't even made it to 8:30 and I want to turn around and drink bloody marys until I can't feel my extremeties.

I will finish this posting when my depression subsides.

Today I felt like destroying something

2006-04-03T20:31:00.001-07:00

Today I felt like smashing something...anything. The first thing that I could pick up and smash into a million tiny pieces.

I don't know if it would come to killing something, but there were several times where I just felt and uncontrollable heat rise within me. It felt like the wave of blood that comes into your head when you get really embarrased or nervous. The same way your ears feel in frigid weather.

Of course I have learned to control these emotions. If humans could not reign in such emotions we would be, well, I guess like the leaders of the free world who seem unable to control themselves. Arguably, these people are like animals, except it is never themselves who they put in harms way. It is always the people that they purport to protect who have to deal with the repurcussions of these actions.

Any way, let me get back to what i was saying... i wanted to destroy something. I did not though. I pressed forward, staying focused on the things that needed to get done. Sometimes I feel so anti-social that I don't even want to see people that I like. I don't get hung up on the question of whether there are other people that feel this way and if these types of thoughts are normal. These thoughts are undoubtedly normal. My question is what other people do when they are nearly overcome by these feelings. Any thoughts?

Despite these deeply negative feelings I also experienced moments of great beauty and lucidity where certain things seemed clear.
For example, walking home from the train the sun was shining, the weather was just as it should have been, and for 6 minutes on my way home everything was tranquil.

Although those moments are fleeting, they take the roller coaster out from the troughs and into the peaks for at least brief moments. So I guess if there is some point to this disjointed rant it is that 'it ain't all bad.'

Now you optimists out there, don't go getting the wrong ideas about me. While 'it ain't all that bad,' 'it ain't all that great either.'

Hopefully tomorrow has a good beat, cuz I sure am tired of listening to the same ol' shit.

Oh, I almost forgot. Iran has been testing missiles powered by nuclear technology that they told the UN they were using ONLY for humanitarian purposes. Those crazy guys.

Have a great day.

this is a test of the exigent thoughts consortium!!!

2006-03-31T07:18:00.000-08:00

The best thing to do in the morning, in my mind, is to cruise down the highway, listening to Orbital, on a sunny morning. Sure, things need to get done, but at that moment nothing else is important.

Moving forward this blog is an observational instrument. Here will be posted studies, observations, theorems, and all-encompassing brain dumps regarding the humanistic aspects of the world we live in. Many parties shall remain nameless in the interest of shifting the focus from individuals to a mostly general reporting of human behavior. In the odd chance that people find my writings to hold some interest I encourage others to contribute queries, comments, and concerns to make this an open source project.

This blog will serve several purposes. Those ends may be reached in any manner as I see fit, however, the paths on which I will pursue those ends may take any number of forms.

The primary purpose of this blog is to air my grievances and purge myself of the bad blood with which the masses of psychic vampires have polluted my system. In this electronic medium I will act as my own therapist. When serving myself in this capacity I will dig deep to pull out those issues that contaminate my mind thus purifying my mental state and freeing me to focus on more pertinent and pressing issues.

The secondary role of these writings is to educate others as to my reality. Of course there exists a consensus reality. However, to deny that individuals, myself included, retain no personal reality is to concede that humans, and other sentient beings, are nothing more than ants. Toiling endlessly for a collective, never committing any time to oneself, would undoubtedly be denied by any thoughtful being as an unacceptable way to exhaust a potentially useful life. Therefore, this blog purports to, and will indeed, educate myself and others on how to live a more directed and informed existence.

Finally, in a tertiary and more corollary role, this blog will serve as an inlet and outlet of good humor. Anything taken too seriously for any extended duration will surely create an unmanageable bulk of neuroses, which in time will debilitate even the strongest of creatures. This has been proven throughout time by the manifested evil of the grumpy boss, the unwavering dictator, and those foul creatures that derive pleasure from the pain of others. Because such people project their inequities and insecurities onto those who wish not to exert control over others is proof positive that these people have lost control over their own lives and have succumbed to the role of inflexible 'dick-headedness.'

Certain aspects of this page may sometimes delve into the darkest and foulest of places and other times we may tease into the limelight lighter issues of human nature. Rest assured, this project will certainly be paramount in truth and relevance with as few factual inaccuracies as possible.

With that, I leave you to slide into the edge of your seat in anticipation of stories, allusions, excerpts, and observations ranging from the beautiful and sublime to the abhorrent, with all those juicy bits, usually discarded in the interest of brevity and short attention span, in the middle.

Thank you and good day... I said GOOD DAY!