avast! ye evildoers ~ ~ pclef.net

WHAT'S NEW PUSSYCAT?

a rare shot with a Gibson Les Paul…..

Jimi.

Sensei.

Soon. No talk.

Just play.

Rhumba.

2005.

MAKE SOMEONE HAPPY

Let’s see. It’s been a banner week in the culture. First of all, early returns on this big smelly old mandate thing are starting to creep in. No intelligence reform bill, and Tom DeLay gets to remain as Lord Darth Vader even while under indictment. Jesus, we know you’ve been busy all week doing Oscar promotion meetings with Mel Gibson, but could we get a ruling on this?

Professional basketball. Yeah, the basket is ten feet high and you’re seven feet tall. We’re all really impressed with your ability. Here’s 10 million dollars. Is that enough? No? You need more? Sure thing, just do us all a favor and try not to physically attack the paying customers. That would be bad.

Hunting. Go out into the woods with a high-powered rifle to kill innocent, defenseless life. This is a sport? I like to think of the recent killings up in Wisconsin as thinning the herd. Somewhere, Charles Darwin is laughing his ass off.

What does this have to do with Thanksgiving? Not a blessed thing, except perhaps for an appreciation of the fact that these events took place way the hell away from where I am.

I’m just thankful for my family, and my friends, and I hope I’m worthy of them. Have a safe and happy Thanksgiving y’all. fo’ shizzle……

VOODOO CHILD (SLIGHT RETURN)

Boss DS-1 Distortion / Keeley “Ultra” Mod:

After a little over a week of regular usage, I’m really high on this particular item. So, as promised, following is my obsessively anal-retentive and cliché-ridden delineation of why me likey:

Exposition: veteran guitar geek, whose related inventory includes plenty of guitars, two good-sounding tube amps, a couple of solid-state/direct recording devices, not to mention a whole bunch of effects pedals, gets to pining for the ease and simplicity of having a distortion pedal—not an overdrive or a fuzz, good god there’s plenty of those on hand and none of them do what is needed. What brought this on? A switch malfunction on a dearly beloved late 80s Rat2 distortion pedal--a remnant of an early 90s effects line-up that was limited to the rat and a crybaby wah. It sounded glorious, but an increase in discretionary scratch and participation in different music genres led to various searches for new and different effects. When the occasion arose to come back to the fold, this very basic tool was missing.

To The Bat Pole: It’s turning out that a move from the city to the suburbs is changing the approach to rehearsals and gear. Now that an adjustment to real estate ownership has transpired, plans are afoot to do more projects involving DIY recording, and possibly even having some live band rehearsals in our very own basements. Not a radical concept, I’ll grant you, but for itinerant long-haul band guys like us, who’ve darkened the caverns of so many NYC rehearsal spaces, it’s a rather refreshing approach. One issue lingers—do we still wish to continue the practice of carting around heavy amps and hardware? Not on your life. So, for starters, I got a tech21 trademark 10, a rather fine-sounding practice amp, that weighs less than 20 pounds and has its own gig bag. XLR out is available for direct recording, and it should do the job for drummer-less rehearsals/jams. No channel-switching though. And I want/need that second guitar sound. So, now that the setup has been assembled, the overriding question this new customer was curious to answer is--does the keeley box provide a great-sounding second distortion channel for $129?

The answer is a resounding yes….

A word on the test bed gear inventory—for this I stuck mainly with my fender strat, fender tele, and a strat-style guitar I built which is loaded with humbuckers. Amps included the tech21, a vintage mesa/boogie 50W combo, and a dr. z carmen ghia head into a 4x12 cab.

Since my initial intention was to keep this pedal as a cash-and-carry complement to the tech21, I plugged into that amp right away once I took delivery. I suspected that most any distortion/overdrive would sound reasonably useful through the boogie or the dr. z, so this was, for me, the litmus test. I grabbed the brightest guitar on hand—a ’74 strat with Duncan antiquities—and plugged right in. Wonderful. A strong midrange crunch, but no discernable loss in low end, and good string definition. No flatulence through the neck pickup. And a great range of tones throughout the sweep of the EQ control, virtually all of it useful. I’ve been a big fan of the fulltone fulldrive2 as a primary tool for the stratocaster, and I’d put the keeley ds-1 in the same category. It does a great job of enhancing the problematic bridge pickup sound for playing leads. Tons of volume boost as well. But here’s an unexpected benefit, one that quite a few guitar gear observers fail to take notice of—this pedal is also great for playing rhythm. Chords have a surprising amount of definition and volume balance string-to-string.

And so my demos went along, from the fender strat to the frankenstrat and then to the tele, and subsequently onward to the bigger tube amps…straight A’s all around…in fact, that’s probably this device’s most redeeming basic value—that it’s wonderful tone-shaping functions just as well across various contexts. I have a few combinations that are seemingly discrete—the blackstone mosfet overdrive between the tele and the dr. z is heavenly, but not so much between the strat and the boogie. Some guitars like certain amps, and some pedals sound better with different amp types—whether it’s caused by the types of tubes (6L6 vs EL84) or even class A vs class AB…the Keeley DS-1 ultra mod sounds great in every situation I put it in. I’ve actually begun to rethink my pedalboard with the DS-1 as a core component.

Suck Factor: Not that there aren’t a few negatives, albeit minor ones…

True bypass—not. This would matter more if it was the first pedal in the chain, but it isn’t and it won’t be. Still…

Don’t put it in front of the POD. This is true of most distortion/OD pedals. It just sounds very hi-fi. Again, not a huge problem…this product is clearly designed for use between a guitar and an amp.

“Guitar hero” tone. It bears mentioning that the guitar tone generated by this pedal is a very familiar one to most of us, and one possible drawback is not being quite so “transparent” as a good overdrive might be—thereby reflecting more fundamentally the characteristics of a given guitar & amp (though in this respect, it certainly has more of this transparency than any distortion box I’ve every heard). As I mentioned previously, this was one of my reasons for getting this particular pedal, so I appreciate the extent to which this is a “marshall in a box.”

It’s an interesting (electric) guitaristic question—does your individuality come from the actual notes you’re playing with your fingers, or does your individuality come from the tonal personality generated by your choice of gear? (If this question perplexes you, I would politely suggest that you stop thinking about it and go write a song. The rest will sort itself out…)

No rating system here, just two modest thumbs held aloft and a bullish investment in some 9V batteries. This stompbox is a keeper…and for that, I give thanks…..

AUTUMN LEAVES

So, as yon harvesters
Make glad their nooning underneath the elms
With tale and riddle and old snatch of song,
I lay aside grave themes, and idly turn
The leaves of Memory's sketch-book, dreaming o'er
Old summer pictures of the quiet hills,
And human life, as quiet, at their feet.
--John Greenleaf Whittier

my immediate future: thousands and thousands of these in a sedimentary carpet to be migrated en masse before the rain turns them into a sog of dreary weight...

it ain't called Maplewood for nothing......

WAILING SOUNDS

to hell with fuzzboxes.....

it was the stratocaster. thought I needed the jimi hendrix setup. wah - fuzz - octavia - univibe - figured he invented the pedalboard. the english fellers were just jacking dallas rangemasters and vox/colorsound tone benders into vox ac30s so jimi was the first guy who strung four or five in a row. with the help of his staff smart guy roger mayer. and a couple of 100W Marshalls. excedrin headache power. balls deluxe. but no. tired of trying to make chords sound like chords. lacking the 100W Marshalls and mitch mitchell for that matter, you can see I pulled it all apart and am downsizing it to the little guys in the middle, fulldrive at the end, and the delay/sampling/reverb assembly. fuzzbox pair at lower right are going into a drawer in the studio. playing more wah now. and expression/volume pedal on the delay. want to do a trio, get the big washes of sound thing going over big ass drum/bass rhumba rhumba.

blackstone unit into the keeley box is organic as hell. sings.

new amp setup. frankenstrat with its frankenbitches.

HUH? KIM GUITAR? MINI HUMBUCKERS AND A BIGSBY?

KICK ASS. MAKE IT SO.

PEAKE EXPERIENCE

Mervyn Peake as war artist...

To live at all is miracle enough.
The doom of nations is another thing.
Here in my hammering blood-pulse is my proof.

Let every painter paint and poet sing
And all the sons of music ply their trade;
Machines are weaker than a beetle's wing....

--Mervyn Peake, who died on this date in 1968

never heard of him. proof enough that modern jack-of-all-trades artists tend to get shuffled into the dustbin of history. according to his son, he left behind "over 10,000 drawings, 200 oil paintings, books, poems, short stories, illustrations, plays, film scripts, stage designs and ideas." He wrote and published a fantasy-genre trilogy that was contemporaneous with Tolkien's Ring Trilogy and Orwell's 1984. maybe I'll investigate his stuff further. I do know that his six lines above state the case much more effectively than my various ad nauseum ramblings of the past few weeks.....

dig:
www.todayinliterature.com

PEOPLE WILL SAY WE'RE IN LOVE

For my money, nothing says "I love you honey" like a purchase approval OK on a new piece of sonic tooling for the guitar jones....

this is my first acquisition of a "modded" guitar effect. makes sense though. take a product that already has some market traction, and make it better...

this sounds vaguely american, yes? innovation. boss pedals, built like tanks. sound quality varies from model to model. foreign people with tiny hands assembling miniature devices in poorly lit taiwanese factories that smell like teen spirit. so this guy robert keeley (www.robertkeeley.com) improves the innards for the betterment of humanity.

I spent over an hour last night playing through his upgrade of the boss ds-1 distortion box (pictured above), a $40 pedal I've heard about for years. I've never actually played through the standard boss ds-1. but I paid triple that price for the keeley "ultra" mod, and last night I couldn't stop playing through the thing. I only stopped because of a biological need for food.

a more thorough guitar geek-oriented post will be forthcoming, with all the details (i.e. knob twiddling), buzzwords (e.g. "midrange") and cliches (e.g. "transparent"). I'll even play it through a tube amp, an endeavor for which I will definitely be donning dry shorts... in the process I'll try to find something about this thing I don't like....stay tuned.....

WE'LL ALWAYS HAVE PARIS

image courtesy of the fine folks at "get your war on"
dig it: http://www.mnftiu.cc/mnftiu.cc/home.html

YOU KNOW YOU'RE RIGHT

............there is no spoon............

Republican Election Victory Blamed on Fugazi
Breakup of Left-Leaning Punk Band Enabled Margin of Victory for Bush

Since deciding to disband in 2001, the punk activists' influence on young music fans has virtually disappeared. Their unusual business practices, such as charging less than $10 for CDs, or insisting on $5 all-ages shows, have not been taken up by any other bands as of yet.

"The sad fact is that the kids don't listen to Bruce Springsteen anymore, man. But if Ian Mackaye says something, you can bet they'd be listening," remarked corporate shill Henry Rollins. "The scene's dead, man. Like, I just spent two days in a recording studio with William Shatner, for heavens sake. I mean, beam me up Scotty, you know? Man."

Members of Fugazi were too disinterested to comment....

MUSICAL CHAIRS

Sergeant, did you say "poopy?"

take a minute and go to google news....there are over 450 news items, most of them local, reporting on the pulling of "Saving Private Ryan" from its scheduled Veterans Day broadcast by numerous ABC affiliates, due to fears over FCC fines. I read news items from Albany to Seattle, so I guess you could say this occurred from sea to shining sea.

Ironic? That Michael Powell, the son of our most celebrated living army general, has created a situation whereby TV broadcasters will go against the encouragement of even a war hero like Sen. McCain and refrain from something as worthwhile as "Ryan" for fear of getting a huge fine from the FCC?

All this over an exposed nipple? As Chris Rock said it so well, that was community titty....

My late Uncle Steve, author of Band of Brothers and consultant on "Ryan," must be rolling in his grave. One defining aspect of his life's work, his books on men in combat, was to show (as much as possible) the reality of men in combat, how they depended on each other for their lives, forming incredibly close bonds, to the point that they were willing to die for each other if necessary. And "Ryan" is an example of that. Selflessness and courage, devotion to duty in the face of great odds.

[ I wonder if the movie would have suffered the same fate had it starred John Wayne. ]

Funny story--I was in Massachusetts last weekend, visiting my sister and family, and they were planning a birthday party, trying to pick out some activities. I had a moment of clarity when someone brought up the idea of musical chairs, a game I hadn't thought about in many years. Let's review: there's only one winner, who wins the game by pushing his or her way onto the last chair available. You essentially have a group of children who all lose, every last one, with one child left as the winner. Hmmm, sounds like a reality TV show, doesn't it? We decided instead to go play games together in the backyard and later we sang some songs together. Together. Funny thing about together--it causes children (grownups too) to laugh and smile.

So yeah, selflessness, loyalty to your friends, commitment, accountability....these things don't get talked about much, leastwise on TV. Certainly not on the national news media, where it's all Lacey Peterson, all the time. Or those reports from embedded reporters who show pictures of smoke, but no fire. Numbers, lists of names, but no bodies. There is. a war. that they. are not. showing us. so don't. show the. fictional one. either.

But no problem, as long as we focus on our own internal back-stabbing, treachery, ostracizing, lying and selfish double-dealing to win, ends justifying the means as the overriding moral rationale, sure that's what we americans find entertaining...whether we happen to call it "news" or something having to do with "reality"....watch either, you'll get neither.

There was a war in Europe and the Pacific called World War Two. In this war, Americans saved the world from brutal dictators and evil genocidal villains. Call me crazy, but is the movie portrayal of this proud achievement a disservice to our society? With all the bad and bloody news coming out of Fallujah right now, wouldn't it be a positive thing to see a story about how good can come out of such noble enterprise? I'd think even a red-stater could get behind that...

Nope. Nipples and curse words, that's the real enemy.

ARMISTICE DAY

DULCE ET DECORUM EST

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.

8 October 1917 - March, 1918

--Wilfred Owen, killed November 4, 1918, the last day of fighting, near the village of Ors. The news of his death reached his parents’ home as the Armistice bells were ringing on November 11.

HAS BEEN

Today in History:

Entry: Richard Burton (1925); Vachel Lindsay (1879); Martin Luther (1483), Oliver Goldsmith (1730); Greg Lake (1948); Mackenzie Phillips (1959); Francois Couperin (1668)

Exit: Ken Kesey (2001); Leonid Brezhnev (1982)

Vietnam Vets Memorial opens, 1982
Sesame Street debuts, 1969
Iwo Jima Memorial is dedicated, 1954
Direct dial, coast-to-coast telephone service debuts, 1951
Hirohito enthroned, 1928
The Marines is organized by first Continental Congress, 1775

Stratcat is born, 1963

A motley congregation of musicians, thespians, literati, drunks, addicts and freaks, with a palpable dash of military history…perfect company as I enter my 41st year. 41 was Tom Seaver’s number….here’s hoping I’m still able to put together a 20-win season….

Guilty Pleasure of the Week: the new William Shatner album, “Has Been.” I know, I know, his 1960s LP ‘The Transformed Man’ still retains the title for most cringe-worthy (with Leonard Nimoy’s contemporaneous effort also in contention), but this is something else. Producer/co-writer Ben Folds assembled various contributing artists, including Joe Jackson, Henry Rollins, Aimee Mann, and Adrian Belew, and the results truly surprised me. In addition to laughing out loud quite a bit (an effect that was clearly intentional), I found myself actually enjoying the various spoken-word pieces (we’re still a far cry from what anyone would call poetry), and Shatner’s classic……pauses…….are put to great effect…available for download at a newsgroup near you.....

YES SIR THAT'S MY BABY

I work in a department/work group of about 20-odd people. Most are married. The majority of them either have kids, or are about to. Right now there are five women who are currently pregnant. My daughter was born about 16 months ago, at a time when I was one of the newer employees here. So I find myself occasionally cordoned off into the same conversational space as my fellow breeders, and as a condition of this new confraternity, combined with my status as accidental tourist in the land of matrimony and parenthood (my original plan was to avoid both conditions, a plan I am quite happy did not work out) I have made a few observations along the way, and yes dear reader, there are still a few unanswered questions…

Let me preface by saying that there is a greeting card from our newest mom on the refrigerator in the break room. She’s thanking everybody for some shower gifts. She says she can’t wait to get permission from her pediatrician to bring in the child. This was a premature baby, and is still under six pounds. So OK, it's her decision, and I imagine it's many months before that sort of travel will be approved, and hopefully that will coincide with the warmer weather months, but still...

And I’ve been asked numerous times about when I’m going to be bringing in my own little one. My answer to them: we’ll see. The truth: never.

What is the significance of bringing in one’s offspring into a corporate office? Are there lingering doubts as to the verifiable cuteness that one’s baby might possess? Wouldn’t one surmise that even a blind baby, with green scales, a hooksnout, discolored snot-thickened bacteria ooze flowing from its crying mouth, and tiny blood-calloused hooves instead of fingers and toes, might very well fetch hyperbolic praise as to its innate beauty by those with whom one works? Where, pray tell, does one put the plug-and-play, the stroller, the bassinet, the toys, the diapers, the food, and so forth, while in an office building? In which cubicle will you dispose of the shitty diapers? And at which point in time do we know that an infant is ready for the rude fluorescent-lit shock of the PC farm?

We are a society that is in love with its commodities, so much so that we even hoist our small and defenseless offspring out amongst the chattering horde so that it can thus be allotted its fair value estimation. I’m not sure why, and I’m not sure when this started. As far back as I can remember, snapshot photos seemed to fulfill this need quite comprehensively. But I do have a gut feeling that it isn’t natural. And isn’t there enough bullshit in our lives? Haven’t we created a painfully unnecessary number of times during the day when we must maintain an edifice of false friendship via half-truths and sycophancy? Do we now need to bring these babies, these grotesque and unlovely babies, into the equation?

Flip Wilson saw through this. Flip Wilson understood. Flip Wilson told this joke about as well as a joke could be told:

This woman on the train had an ugly baby. I know an ugly baby when I see one. And I only glimpsed it. This fellow enters the coach. He's half smashed. And he gets to the seat where the woman is with the baby . . .

The conductor says, "Now calm down, lady. The railroad will go to any extent to avoid having differences with the passengers. Perhaps it would be to your convenience if we were to rearrange your seating. And as a small compensation from the railroad, if you'll accompany me to the dining car, we'll give you a free meal. And maybe we'll find a banana for your monkey."

JESUS IS JUST ALL RIGHT WITH ME

... take a look at the kneeler in my pew ...

some time a while back I posted a reaction to the sound of the new JJ tubes I put in my old boogie combo...I was less than thrilled with the tone that kicked in with the distortion setting....in retrospect, my feelings toward this issue have achieved some context and perspective, and now reside in the same brain space as transcripts of the pre 9/11 lewinsky debate, the credibility and relevance of the swift boat veterans, and concerns over finding the "missing killer" of OJ Simpson's wife.

maybe the tubes have burned in a little. maybe my ears were looking for something else. maybe I didn't have it turned up loud enough. me not know. me fickle fucker... the bottom line is that the amp, circa today, sounds cleaner than a broke dick dog. it's a colossal tragedy that I don't have a regular gig to bring it to, because, well, to be totally honest and impartial about it, I rule. I totally fucking rule. As the burgeoning musical styles extant in our society stampede headlong into an era devoid of electric guitar-based music, I seem to be reaching the peak of my abilities in the performance thereof. the frankenstrat, with a slightly heavier gauge of strings, is putting out a sturdier, more abdominal grunt of mudgrunge, with pickup combinations affording dulcet to diabolical tone varieties. and the coup de grace for harnessing the boogie's icky distortion snarl into a sonorous vocalese of mortal pain cum soundwave is made manifest via the circuitry of these vivacious fuzz vipers:

............girth............

............gestalt............

also, I've been spending some time revisiting the algorithmic intoxicants imbued within the silicon sinews of this here device:

I'm auditioning a few old volume pedals to test how well they manipulate the "expression pedal" input, whose capabilities seem annoyingly finite, but would certainly be useful as hell if I'm able to get it set up correctly. my current obsession involves the reverse delay channel, but I've also discovered a sugarbog of sonic sprawl via the roland space echo model, not to mention the way-trippy sweep delay, and I do always keep one preset reserved for echoplex-type tweaks.

elapsed time is a bitch. it's been months since leaving the more traditional confines of the alt.country scene but with only so many friday evenings available in a week or month, I'm just now getting past some of the gear-related paradigms that I had created for those more linear styles. so now it's all beginning to blossom anew....as it seems to each year at this time. just as the plant world points its flora skyward to restart growth in the spring, I tend to perk up my antennae around the time of the first frost, as I find myself increasingly indoors, cohabitating with my sound gear and annoyingly incessant imagination...[which does sound a bit twee, I'll admit, but it's been several winters since I haven't been part of a band, and what's on the tv? yep. nothing. again]...last year's cold weather output included an album (the never-to-be-released "heartache & whisky" by radio ghost town). this year, with the film score project nearly complete, I am again faced with what is consistently the most compelling question in the musical universe: what's next?

ONCE AROUND THE WEEKEND

...before we head into the weekend with the lingering taste of mediocrity in triumph on our lips, let's recognize two guys worth celebrating....

UPDATE (11/09): THE NY TIMES REPORTED THIS MORNING THAT MEL STOTTLEMYRE WILL BE RETURNING AS YANKEES PITCHING COACH FOR THE 2005 SEASON.

Mel Stottlemyre, former ace pitcher for the Yankees, who became one of the more successful pitching coaches of modern times...lest we forget, he was the pitching coach for the championship 1986 Mets, and while some have argued that forcing Dwight Gooden to learn a third pitch was counterproductive (that Peruvian marching powder probably didn't help things either), he's got a collection of WS rings to show for his trouble. He was also something of a master at reviving the careers of pitchers nearing the end of their careers (David Cone, Gooden). After the inconsistencies of this past season, he was perhaps choosing to avoid the chance of termination from Steinbrenner and leave under his own steam, but after beating a bout with cancer last year, it's probably a good time now to let someone else take over. With the championships, pennants, and 1960s pitching career in his resume, he certainly deserves a Mel Stottlemyre day at the Stadium, and maybe even a plaque out in monument park. He will be missed...

what can be said about this guy that he already hasn't said himself? when they look up the phrase new york attitude in the dictionary in years to come, there should be a picture of Jimmy Breslin...equal parts bluster, booze and blarney, Mr. Breslin's columns provided a commentary on this city that ran the gamut from the ridiculous to the sublime, with a strong dose of what is mostly missing in the rhetoric of this day and age: heart......and his run for city council president (with norman mailer for mayor) in 1968 was one for the ages.

He says he's going to write a book about the city. Well OK then, shut up about it and get to work....

BABY GOT BACK

Patience is also a form of action. -Auguste Rodin, sculptor (1840-1917)

…nice words to consider, as we lick our wounds, but let’s also stop to consider another riff on this quotation, which might well sum up a working credo for the 59 million, that “watching TV is also a form of exercise.” If you read the short article below (or paste the accompanying link into your browser), you’ll notice that the FAA in May of last year adjusted its weight assumptions for aircraft passenger loads of average Americans by an increase of 10 pounds! I know the obvious point to make might be that the move was prompted by a plane crash in North Carolina, but let’s take this a step further, shall we? Do you think this weight increase is due to, say, children? Well now, there’s plenty of fat kids, and you'll see tons of them (ha! tons!) lined up in a drool formation at your various fast food joints across the heartland, but on average, that 10 lb. bag of Freedom-fried po-taters is more than likely attaching itself to the hips of your burger-gulping, soda-swilling rural population, cooking up the frizzle fry in a glutinous reservoir of liquefied fatback…it’s the flavor junior! That’s right, if the soda can says “diet” then sure it’s perfectly ok to guzzle down four or five of them each morning…since ”diet” is synonymous with “all you can eat” in this country…or am I wrong in stipulating that Julia Roberts is an ugly bucktooth spider-limbed farmboy/woman? Her worldwide fame can only be attributed to a population who have willingly relinquished their own common sense for that which is force fed to them via advertising and mass media, not only messages such as this lanky horsewoman is sexy, or you deserve a break today…I do? Well then make it a triple cheeseburger, and supersize me! Say what? You love football, and twins, and you love me too? Well shoot, put a 12-pack of that crappy beer on my tab kind stranger! You say the president’s done a good job? Well now, I never realized I held such strong personal beliefs, since I've been stuffing my face most of the time, but heck, by all means, sign me up. I’d do it myself, but I’m afraid I’d get bacon grease all over that handsome clipboard of your’n…

Here’s a breakdown of the kind of money we’re talking about…in the neighborhood of $50 billion…that’s right, you and I are paying the bill for all those cheeseburgers (aside from the increased fuel costs detailed below, related to lifting all that fat red state ass up in the sky)….

http://olympics.reuters.com/newsArticle.jhtml?type=domesticNews&storyID=6721990

Heavier Public Costs U.S. Airlines in Fuel – Report

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - U.S. airlines spend hundreds of millions of dollars annually in extra fuel costs to transport a heavier traveling public, researchers estimate.

The 10-pound increase in the average weight of American adults in the 1990s means additional expenses for struggling airlines today, according to the findings published by the American Journal of Preventive Medicine.

The researchers for the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention estimate that carriers spent $275 million in fuel costs to carry the additional weight of passengers in 2000.

...continued...

But fuel costs have risen exponentially since, deepening the red ink at some airlines.

Bankrupt United Airlines said last week it will likely spend $1.2 billion more on fuel this year than first projected.

The calculations do not measure variables like the weight distribution of the flying public or the type of aircraft flown.

But the researchers conclude the findings highlight the consequences of obesity in the United States.

Recent government statistics show the average body mass index (BMI), a weight-for-height formula used to measure obesity, has crossed into overweight territory. The average weight of an adult man was 191 pounds in 2002, while the average weight for women was 164.3 pounds.

In May 2003 the Federal Aviation Administration added 10 pounds to per-passenger weight assumptions for calculating aircraft loads.

That step followed the crash of a commuter crash in North Carolina that prompted scrutiny of aircraft weight and balance issues on small planes.

DIVIDE AND CONQUER

So OK then...yesterday I was down in the dumps, but with a little time and distance, I’m beginning to put it all into perspective. One burning question though: just who are these people? These 59 million people who voted for Bush, I don’t know them. Not at work, not where I live (except for that one house with the Bush/Cheney sign, juxtaposed incredibly next to a “Be About Peace” sign), nor anyone around the country I’ve talked to. Interestingly, I did hear several people yesterday remark that they “hate them both” which raises the dumb question of whether a more appealing democratic candidate could have won.

Then it dawned on me. They’re the same people. Yes, this same group of people who are popularizing a variety of entertainments which cause me, each and every day, to teeter-totter between the polar cesspools of nausea and chagrin. I always thought that by the time I hit 40, I’d be snug and secure in the American mainstream, mowing my lawn, paying my taxes, watching the same crappy TV shows as everybody else, maybe even harboring some small affection for this or that republicanistic concept. You know, mellowing. So why is it that I now feel just as isolated and marginalized as I did when I was 20? Let’s return to my theory about the 59 million voters:

They’re definitely getting the new Clay Aiken Christmas album this year…

The daughters are singing along and dressing up, the moms are rationalizing the slutty role model issue by comparing her to the "much sluttier" Christina Aguilera (so they've been told), and the dads are voyeuristically getting their rocks off to the whole milieu of nubile blonde teenage pulchritude parading through the house…

Who else would lionize a guy who is a known adulterer (he’s dating Sheryl Crow, which is nauseating enough, but I guess that’s just another case of these inscrutable “family values” I keep hearing about), and an opportunistic shill for the Bristol-Myers/Squibb Corporation, making his yellow wristband “charity” one of the cleverest marketing campaigns for big pharmaceuticals ever seen in this country. Yeah, let’s give him a fucking medal…um, I mean, another fucking medal…

They’re all going out to see Jude Law in 'Alfie' tomorrow night (because there is no “theater” without the word “movie” in front of it). They have no idea that this is a remake, or that the song is a remake…

This may LOOK like country, but it ain’t….why is it that they call it “country” music but it is always made in a city (Nashville)? They should just call it city music (I just call it shitty music). Real cowboys don’t look like this. They’re dirty and smelly, and so are their guitars.

I could never figure out why anybody would watch this on a Sunday evening. Now I know. 60 Minutes is reality-based…

Ah yes, literature….

That’ll do for now. Obviously, I could continue with this indefinitely.

I’ve survived Nixon, and I’ve survived Reagan. There’s still another four years to get through, but we'll live. at least, I'm pretty sure we will....(don't mind me, that's just the cheney talking).....

I Voted...

'nuff said...

courtesy of the fine folks over at boingboing.net

SWEET FUCK ALL

Does this picture really require a caption?

Black. All black. I have no words sufficient to express the indignance I feel toward my fellow citizens in the South and Midwest. I suppose I underestimated their naivete and stupidity. But verbose carping and complaining, hurling of insults, will do nothing but fuel my own anger and despair. Only this: Not my president. Not my president. Liar. Thief. Traitor. War Criminal. Myopic zealot. Abject failure. I believe this. Don't agree with me? Well I doubt any of the Bushies are watching this space, or would even care if they did. But to those of you who did vote for President Bush, here are a few words at the level of complexity with which you are demonstrably most comfortable: go fuck yourself.

I can't wait for the next tourist with an out-of-town accent to stop me on a Times Square sidewalk and ask for directions. Where to send them? The South Bronx? East Harlem? Avenue C? I so long to exercise the same sort of hospitality I've experienced while driving through the southern U.S. with New York plates. Can I convince a midwesterner on vacation with his wife that Madame Tussauds is actually located in Bedford-Stuyvesant? Just try me....

Once this rush of blood recedes to a softer thrum, we'll post some appreciations for two great NYC'ers who yesterday announced that they're hanging up their spurs: Mel Stottlemyre and Jimmy Breslin.

Fight the Power.

IF I CAN'T CHANGE YOUR MIND

I am very proud to say that I was voter #001 in district 6 of the town of Maplewood NJ this morning, as the clock struck 6am...

blue state? red state? sorry, I ain't buying the facile spoonfeed today.....I live in a state of hope....

get your vote on, and enjoy the day.....

What you do is of little significance; but it is very important that you do it. -Mohandas K. Gandhi

CAN YOU PLEASE CRAWL OUT YOUR WINDOW?

you're fired...

it isn't a race to the bottom. it is simply a question of whether anyone in this country still has the sac to engage in self-rule, via the ballot box, or if we are truly moving toward being a united states of catatonia, suckling the maternal teat of the glowing boxes in our living rooms to the exclusion of all else, particularly those behaviors which involve the exercise of freedom.

in the midst of all the arguing over who is the better candidate, there is one key point that cannot be overstated--if more of us voted, we wouldn't necessarily have this administration doing all this damage. we would have better candidates to choose from. if more of us saw voting as a privilege instead of a nuisance, then we'd all be in better shape.

So turn off your TVs and vote. stop bitching and vote. put down that cheeseburger and vote. get off your paltry throne of sameness and vote. reject your cynicism. look beyond yourself: vote. be an american. engage in a genuine patriot act. shut the fuck up. and go out and vote tomorrow.