Ensign Ricky - A RED SHIRT DIARY

Business affairs are keeping me from waxing forth as much as I would like, still they pay me which helps keep the band in guitar stings and keeps me supplied with movies like Blood Orgy of the She Devils and The Giant Gila Monster.

Lord the junk I’ve seen – it’s a wonder my mind hasn’t oozed out my ears the garbage I’ve fed it.

Anyway – it’s busy, end of quarter, paperwork flying in, we’ve going to be moving floors, and just plain work is getting in the way of my blogging, wandering the net and day dreaming of wild sex and gin based drinks.

Still as the silly result of an e-mail exchange with the enemy below, that I’m wearing a red shirt to day and some other things I give you the diary of
Ensign Ricky –of Enterprise Security

Star Date 2411.52 – Morning, I’m very nervous today, it’s will be my first day on the Enterprise, the most famous ship in the Federation. This is a big step up. To tell the truth I’m surprised at how easy it was for me to get this post straight out of the academy, my roommate who has transferred to the science wing told me there was a 5 year wait for science officers on the Enterprise, but they took me right away.

Still this is a big day. I’m in the red uniform of a Federation Security Ensign. My mom would be so proud.

Later – my first day wasn’t quite what I expected. I was beamed aboard with fifteen other security guards. The chief of security – a nasty looking guy with an eye patch greeted us with the words “Welcome to hell you luckless bastards” then led us to our quarters. As we walked the corridors people looked at us and started going Baaa baaa like sheep.

“What was that for?” I asked.

“Lambs to the slaughter meat” the Chief said. “Just shut up. Here’s you room.”

My roommate Markus was there to greet me. He was drunk.

“Welcome to hell” he said and held out a bottle.

“I don’t drink.” I said.

“Better start” he said “You can just about stand this place if you’re drunk all the time” and then passed out.

Stardate 2422.33 – Yesterday was the first time the Captain asked for two men from security to go along on a shore party with him since I’ve been on board. I expected that in keeping with Starfleet regulations, the duty officer would pick them. But what happened was that each ensign would pick a stone out of a jar. If it was white you stayed on the ship, black meant you were in the shore party. The two picked, Ensign Gable and Ensign Rank were very upset, Gable couldn’t stop crying and Rank had to be physically forced into the transporter.

“We’ll that’s the last we’ll see of them” Markus said, taking another drink.

It turned out Markus was right – some kind of moth creature ate Gable and Rank was crushed to death by a shower of boulders. The Captain and the rest of the party, Mr. Spock and Doctor McCoy returned safely.

I think this may have been a mistake.

Stardate 2484.10 – Nobody ever mentioned just how badly Vulcans smell when you are up close them. I was just in the elevator with Mr. Spock. It was god awful. I don’t see how the Capitan stands it.

Stardate 2906.04 - .Wrenched my knee during training and went to sick bay. When I got there McCoy was yelling into the com unit “Suck my dick you half breed freak.” He was clearly very angry and kept on: “God-damn half breeds, worse than – what the hell do you want?” It was clear he was drunk, he reeked of bourbon.

Still, he bandaged my knee and took me off active duty for a while gave me some pills for the pain.

“if you don’t mind’ he said, his mood shifting at warp speed , “I think I’ll join you” at which he popped two pills into his mouth, drank more bourbon, took a shot of something out of his medical bag said “Ohhhh yeah baby! Daddy’s gonna rock tonight” and passed out.

Stardate 2456.11 – it has become obvious that the Enterprise, far from being the finest ship in the fleet is a snake pit of drunkenness and depravity. The captain terrifies everyone except for Mr. Spock with his frequent temper tantrums about trivial matters. And I can’t count the number of times I’ve had to drag the unconscious body of Commander Scott out of one of the maintenance hatches. Per Markus what Scott likes to do best is get a quart of scotch, crawl into a hatch and drink himself into oblivion.

In the security unit the morale sinks lower and lower each day as time after time men go with the Captain never to return. So far we have lost twenty three men to alien lasers, spears, firearms etc., two were eaten by some from of alien slime mold and on Reilos 5 three were taken over by Alien Life forms and had to be pushed into the lava pits that dot the planet. Meantime, the Captain, Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy keep returning without a scratch.

Stardate 2571.59 – Markus is gone. He was absorbed by a mutant jelly. His last words to me were “I’m going to take that bastard with me.” The Captain, Mr. Spock and McCoy returned. The Captain’s shirt was torn and needed to be replaced.

Stardate – 2581.66 – Markus had warned me not to get involved with anyone on the ship “No romance for security” was his motto. “Even if you find someone,” he said, “That bastard Kirk will horn in, you can be sure as I’m standing here that will happen. There isn’t a single woman on this vessel that bastard hasn’t banged at least once. Even the ugly ones.” But Betty is such a wonderful person. When I’m with her the pain lifts a bit. I’ve been looking my whole life for someone like this.

Stardate – 2582.67- The Captain has taken a shine to Betty and I got quite upset. “He’s a hound” I said.
“Now now” she said “he likes young women. He's a pig but this is a chance for me to advance, don’t you want that?”
“Yes but”
“Listen it's not like I have a choice really he's the Captain, Still the other girls told me, all you have to do is give him a blow job once in a while. He’s really not much in the sack anyway. And it means I’ll get promoted”
“But but but”
“Now hush.”

Stardate 2583.60 - I decided to have it out with Kirk. Using my security pass I opened the door to his cabin. He was facing away from me tied up on a wooden frame and wearing a French maid’s outfit. Lt. Uhra dressed as a nun was hitting his bare buttocks with some kind of paddle. It was apparent from the marks on Kirk’s skin that this had been going on for while. With each impact, Kirk would scream “Yes! Yes! I am such a bad girl! Yes! Yes! Such a naughty naughty Girl! Spank me! Spank me! I’ve been soooo badddd mommy!”

Stardate 2584.12 – Betty is gone. She beamed down with Kirk and Spock and McCoy and two guards. I actually volunteered the Security Chief laughed at me. “Not a Chance.”
She and the other two were tortured to death by the Klingons. Kirk has a bruise on his forehead.

Stardate 2592.07 - Commander Scott came into the Security lounge drunk and sat next to me. Then he started talking to me, between the alcohol and his accent it was hard to understand exactly he was saying but it clear he was upset about the engines and the captain. He said some odd things about Mr. Spock and the Captain being too close, then put his hand on my thigh.

Stardate 2601. 04 – This is it; Widow Maker is beaming down along with the Alien Stink bomb and the Junky. I’ve picked the black stone. Bound to happen. Matter of time. My name will join the 234 others on the roll of honor in the Security Lounge. What a crock. I’m badly hung over and I need to check my phaser before I go. Lets, see, set to stun, safety off, and [transmission ends]

CHEAPNISS

Busy so this will be short. I have put up a window’s movie maker video of Cheese in My Head on the band’s My Space page.

Looking forward to the gig Friday – several folks have said they are coming which means to me a) nobody will come b) we will suck and c) I will get the cold my coworkers have so my voice will be naught but a croak (actually that might help with some of our tunes). I have learned to ignore this voice in my head but I still hate that it’s there.

I know I write about bad movies a lot for a band blog – hey it’s fun. And I get a lot of my pull from junk like It Conquered the World – it’s hard to take a world seriously that produces a film about a giant carrot taking over the earth.

Which links to the first Frank Zappa song I ever heard.

Years and ages ago – I was in my first year of collage, I was a commuter student and I was driving home listening to 92.7 fm WLIR , this was back in the day (I have to come up with another phrase – I hate back in the day) when radios played music. As I’m going along Frank came on the radio talking about loving monster movies, especially cheap monster movies with things like visible nylon strings on the jaws of a giant spider. I nodding along and he talks about It Conquered the World.

It Conquered the World was a Roger Corman – shoot this before they destroy the set cheapie from 1956 – it had Peter Graves, Lee Van Cleef and Beverly Garland (who is really so much better than this film deserved) and to quote Frank “the monster looks like a teepee or a sort of a rounded off pup tent or inverted ice cream cone with Teeth around it, it’s got fangs and ugly mouth. I don’t know why but it’s a very threatening sight”

Well not really – it lives in the memory along with the Giant Claw, Robot Monster and the Tobanga (of from Hell it Came fame) as the one of stupidest looking monsters ever put on the screen. It’s a carrot with fangs and teeth.

The movie features a lot of talk (infused with cold war era paranoia about communists taking over people’s minds) and Peter Graves’s odd trouble driving a stick shift car. Seriously he grinds the damn gears every time he tries and then there is the final confrontation between the carrot and the troops where per Mr. Zappa again: “You can see about this much two by four that they’re using to push it out of the cave. Now this scene must have been soo good that they didn’t want too retake it so off camera someone’s going ‘no get it back’ and they drag it back”

“Now that’s cheapness” he said “and this is Chepnis here”

And the band launches in to the song, a love song to bad monster movies.

The song ends with the chorus

“Can you see it all, can you see it from here, Can you laugh till you’re weak in the knees?
If you can’t I sorry, cause that’s all I wanna know, I need a little more cheapness please”

I remember sitting in my car, parked in my driveway laughing. Thinking I need to know more about this Frank Zappa guy.

And boy did I

PS: The song chepnis is on is Roxy and Elsewhere.

I HURT

Watched the 2nd half of Chain Gang Women last night. I was going to keep up with the Gonzo reactions as I had them but the film was sooo bad and sooo awful that most of the notes are things like “AHHHHHH!!!!!” and NOOOOOOOO!!!! And “What idiot directed this?”, “What????? Moron!” “Jesus I need a shower – and more gin” While these accurately reflect my emotions give you no information on why I was writing that.

Anyway when last we left – the male lead of the film was going off to buy clothes for the killer leaving him alone with his girlfriend. The killer is wearing only a towel and thus dressed makes small talk with the girlfriend about how much watching her and the male lead boink turned him on. He then makes move, she resists and he rapes her. It’s a real charming film that way. Killer complains about how GF was not responsive while being raped. I wonder if this had happened to producer.

Male lead comes back with clothes finds Killer and GF on couch – Killer still in towel – note to director – heterosexual guys do not find men in towels as interesting to look at as you seem to. And if your excuse is you wanted to give a little beefcake to the ladies, not a lot of them are going to watch something called chain gang women. Trust me on that. The whole thing just reeks of creepy.

It gets worse – after an abortive and stupid attempt to elude the police (I won’t bore you with the details) we jump cut for no real reason to an old man working in the field trying to move a rock. A young woman (only the second woman in the film) tells him lunch is ready, he snaps at her and she’s goes back. “Foreshadowing 101” reads my notebook.

Back in the car, the Killer says what they need to do is hole up at a farm someplace (gee I wonder what farm they are going to pick) until nightfall. Of course the go to the farm where the girl and the old man live - and through an open window they watch them boink. This is when I felt I needed a shower – the scene was sooo creepy and soo wrong and so nasty on so many levels that my skin crawled. That the old man was one of the co-writers of the script made it worse – “no no I’ll be her husband not her dad, it’ll shock the audience and I’ll be able to touch a naked young woman and have her touch me – not like in real life where I have to pay.”

Killer et al come in and take over place, before that GF flees film – best thing she could have done. Killer then ties old man up, forces wife to drink until she passes out and then rapes her in front of old man. Thanks movie, thanks a lot, I’ve had a lot erotic day dreams but I can assure you none of them were about drugging a young woman and boinking her in front of her old man. By this point I figured I was being punished for wanting a women in prison shower scene. That had to be the reason.

Later there is a plot twist where girl asks male lead to take her away from the old guy cause she hates him, that’s okay we hate him too my dear. Male lead agrees and they boink. (This is after having sex with the old man and being raped by the killer).

After another stupid and pointless attempt to escape they end up back at the farm. The old man has escaped. The look but they don’t find him. Then instead of getting out of there assuming the old man has escaped and has gone running for the cops – killer sits at a couch with his back to an open window. Old man sneaks up from behind and strangles killer (actually it looks like he’s giving him a shoulder massage but at this point who cares) – then he takes killer’s gun. We cut to young wife lying in bed – we hear a gun shot and old man comes in and says – I got them both.

That’s when I threw my note book at the screen. “That’s it? What was the damn point of that? What kind of moron director kills the lead off screen? Jesus” is a rough transcript of what I said.

This film is beyond pointless – stupid cheap and nasty. The male lead did NOTHING throughout the picture. He didn’t even need to be in it except to provide killer with a girlfriend to rape and then he dies off screen. Shit maybe the actor left before filming was done. Wouldn’t blame him if he had. And the ‘twist’ ending just made you want to take another shower. “No have to old man kill the both of them, the audience won’t expect it.” Well we didn’t but films with good twist/shock endings (say Psycho and The Sixth Sense) are set up during the film; they don’t cheat like this one. Ugh.

Have to watch It conquered the world now – it’s bad and stupid but it doesn’t cheat.

Mondays and bad movies

A scattered day tired and shagged, and it's a Monday. I'm told there is a Hungarian saying "not even the grass grows on Monday."

Boy that feels true today.

Anyway the picture (that you can't see because Blogger hates pictures again) is that of the Monster Times No. 30 that was published back in 1974 when I was a very callow youth. It was their "Worst of" issue. In it they listed the worst comics ever (mostly they ragged on the Archie Comics group super heroes - forgettable fellows like "The Fly, The Black Hood, and I think that's Owl Man on the cover - I think he could talk to birds, like Hawkman could in the early 60's. To wander away from the topic, I have an odd affection for Hawkman. I don't know why, the only thing he can do is fly; he's pretty close to Aquaman in the Lame Super hero sweepstakes (which includes Ant Man and the Fly). Oh yes he uses ancient weapons. Which was weird - the silver age Hawkman was an alien who came to earth to fight crime. But instead of using a phaser or a mind control gem, or a flesh melting ray gun, Hawkman used things like swords and slings and spears. Thinking about it, if a person travels 50 billion light years just for a chance to whack someone in the face with a mace - he could give Batman a run for his money on anger issues.

But I digress.

In this issue, in what may have been the first list of its kind, the magazineo listed the 50 worst monster movies ever made (along with some 25 other runners up) and had a long long article on The Horror of Party Beach, which they said was not only may be the worst Monster Movie ever made, it could be the worst beach party movie ever made as well. And when I finally saw it I found myself agreeing. The monsters were absurd things that looked like they had eaten too many hot dogs at once and the party beach was a dreary grey wasteland that just looking at made you want to break out the anti-depressants. And nobody, but nobody could act - for most of the actors in this film "Horror of party Beach" is their only credit as listed in the IMBD - which is a damn good thing. The whole sloppy weird mess was one of my inspirations for writing "Bikini Zombies" (I figured hell I couldn't do any worse than this hunk of junk.)

But what I still remember my initial reaction to the list: "I have got to see these films". Which was not normal - I mean how many people view a list of rotten films as a to-do list? Still my life has never been the same, I've managed to see most of the films on the list - and other than I now start out each day with a hedious blood curlding scream, it hasn't affected me that much.

Breaking News !!!!

The Band has a my space account now - the url is:http://www.myspace.com/bobmuirandtheenemybelow

We have 4 songs up for your listening pleasure - please remember to rate them as the best songs you have ever heard in your life.

I have to note that the attempt to make all foods healthy has just gone too far - I was buying a couple of beers at the local deli on the way home. I was going to get come chips as well when a voice in my head said "Cheese Doodles (tm)" Now I don't always do what the voices say (it's kept me out of jail) but tonight I listened. What amused me was the label - it said "Good Source of Calcium"

Uh-huh. I can't imagine any doctor in the world saying "we're a little worried about the amount of calcium in your system - eat more cheese doodles (tm)". Well the sad thing really is that now adays, with managed care and Hmo's I can imagine a doctor saying that.

It also boasts "No tans fat" which is like saying "we didn't put in something you body can't digest into your food. Doesn't that make you feel better?"

It doesn't - still they go well with beer - and at least beer does advertise itself as a good source of carbohydrates - it is that is not why we drink it yes?

Peace Love Shonen Knife.

Blogger hates pictures again.

AN EXPERIMENT IN BOREDOM

Last night I was waiting for the Enemy Below to arrive for rehersal. I was rummaging through my DVD’s when I came across “Chain Gang Women”. My dad had bought it a while ago for about 5 bucks and had passed it along to me saying “You’ll like this, it’s terrible” (People do recommend films to me like that a lot – “you have to see this it was god-awful” is a pretty common recommendation that I get) I had not seen it and hell the title seemed perfect. But titles can be deceiving – there was no skin eating in “I Eat Your Skin” and looking at the back blurb I suspected there wasn’t going to be too many women in Chain Gang Women. Which is such a shame.

I’d like to see some kind of truth in labeling here, if you have a title like Chain Gang Women there are things you should be able to expect as consumer of film: good looking women in chains, a shower scene, at least one fight between two women, a sadistic lesbian warden (adding the soft-core Lesbian scene to the film – can’t not have that these days), a riot, an escape, the death of the heroine’s best buddy in the prison, final confrontation with either the warden or the boss of the cons or the corrupt head Guard and their ugly death and then finally, the state or feds coming in to clean things up and cart away the bodies. The thing nearly writes itself, unlike something say Beware Killer Sheep.

So I popped the tape in and in the spirit of Gonzo Journalism and as an experiment, I decided to take notes:

They are as follows (the numbers represent the elapsed time of the movie) – some editing for clarity has been done.

1:00 – Only one of the 5 “stars” of this movie is a woman. Not a good sign. I’m not watching something called chain gang women to watch a film about men on a chain gang.

6:45 – Still no woman. Banjo music though, not a good sign. Lead was in prison garb now in civvies being transferred to the prison Farm – suspect they shot this scene first and had to dance around why lead was in civvies.

8:45 – long rows of beds with men in them. One is playing the Harmonica – no women. They are handing out pabst blue ribbon to the cons. A progressive chain gang I guess.

10:55 – No women.

13:13 – The Unexpected cinematic use of chamber pots. No women.

18:20 – Back and White prisoner fight.

Time not noted: It’s the deep south why are they wearing blankets?

24:00 – Killer con (who is chained to the Male lead) is talking about the freedom to go to the toilet any time he wants to. I have to throw up.

25:33 – Talking about women – but no women.

28:02 – out in the field smoking. No Shower scene (thank god) no women.

32:50 - Is it legally allowable to call a film Chain Gang women when 32 minutes into the film you still haven’t see any women?

33:00 – Jail break – right out of Take the Money and run by Woody Allen.

33:00 “It’ll only take a couple of minutes to chop off your leg” Killer to Male lead.

34:45 – Cons running. Title song with banjo again. No women. Shit. Time to hit the gin.

35:01 – some kind of arty four frames in the shot look. All of them stink.

36:15 – The Defiant ones this ain’t. Man riding backward on a motor cycle while the other drives – the chains looks very very stupid.

39:33 Killer “I broke out twice, I know what to do.” - So what were you doing back in jail you’re so smart? Huh?

40:30 – Male lead takes off shirt while they steal truck. Blindingly white person. Stunningly pale.

41 – Male lead mentions girlfriend – We still haven’t seen a single woman.

41:10 – A woman! A woman! An actual woman.

42:02 – A man shaving in a bathroom with his shirt off is not what you want to see when you turn on Chain Gang Women.

43:31 – Naked woman, about 40 minutes late.

43:32 – cut back to Killer fully dressed and eating breakfast.

44: - Sex in the shower (not the shower scene you expect with a title like Chain Gang Women) they are behind frosted glass. Still way too much male butt in shot. This filmmaker has some issues he needs to address.

45: - Killer peeks in on boinking couple – cut to couple, cut to guy, cut to couple he goes back to kitchen to sit down, he is jealous and this bodes ill for the future – Jesus hit us over the head with the foreshadowing why don’t you? And I’ve have just about enough of this shit. And that’s the doorbell.

I didn’t finish the film after the rehearsal cause I didn’t feel like it. ½ the film was enough – over the weekend I’ll go and do the rest of it. We all need to know if this is going to be as stupidly clichéd and painful as I think it is going to be.

END EXPERIMENT>

IN A FINE PANIC

Once again here we are – nobody is going to come to the gig, we will suck, I will forget the words, nobody will laugh, we will never have another gig again and I will be forced to wear rags and to scavenge for food at the edge of the city dump.

Right now my subconscious is running around waving its arms (can a mental construct have arms?)Yelling whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Or AAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Or some other panic induced mouth noise.

The funny thing was I was raised to be stoic. John Wayne movies played all the time at my house, a long time family favorite film is Zulu (and this applies to our extended family – uncles, cousins and the like) the film is about the battle or Rorke’s Drift during the Zulu war of 1879. At Rorke’s Drift some 145 British soldiers held off some 4,000 Zulu warriors, after over 700 British Troops had been killed that morning by a force of 23,000 Zulus at a place called Isandlwana. There is a moment where the Zulu army appears and one young soldier says to the color sergeant “We’re all gonna die, why us eh? Why us?” the color sergeant played by Nigel Green says in a quiet voice “Because we’re here lad, nobody else, just us.” And he walks away.

And there was also a family saying “that’s the ticket that got punched that’s the train you got on.” Do your job, take what you get and deal with it. And face it; it’s not going to get much better anyway. As I get older I realize we are a pretty gloomy people.

Now how that links with me copping a look like Rick from Cheap Trick and singing how “you must embrace the suck” is not something I want to go into suffice to say panic is not an approved emotion.

But that’s what I have. Well we rehearse tonight – which will deal with the forgetting the words, and well get people to go the gig and we have another gig in Florida. Still I am haunted by the image of me in rags scavenging for food on the outskirts of the city dump. But even if I won lotto I suspect that part of me would still be worried about the rags and scavenging for food result.

More later – it’s busy.

RIFF

One of the things that makes life these days what it is, is the tortured vocabulary – yesterday the firm fired a bunch of people to reduce costs. This used to be called a layoff but is now a RIFF (a Reduction In Force – don’t know where the extra F comes from – just so you can pronounce it I guess) whatever they call it, it means you no longer have a job motherf##ker – welcome to hard times.

It’s the same world that refers to civilians getting blown up as collateral damage and torture as ‘aggressive interrogation”. It’s the language of the bloodless.

Few things are less fun than working at a place where they laying folks off – there is the tension, then the kind of survivor feeling after the layoffs (talk like “anybody in your area get it?” abounds) and then oddly enough for a few days things are less tense cause well the worst just happened but after that comes the decision to update your résumé or try and hold out like grim death.

There is no promise that more will not be coming either.

It’s a bloody odd world when the band looks like the most stable and secure part of my life.

Speaking of tortured and words I have been trying to read Jean Baudrillard’s Simulacra and Simulation – and I have to say I’m having a real rough go here.

The only reason I picked it up was cause it’s shown in the Matrix (very early on – it’s the title of the fake book Neo stores his disks in). And he does say the desert of the real.

My problem stems form not knowing what the hell is talking about when he talks about the desert of the real. Or that the “real” doesn’t exist. He seems to have some very very specific definition of “real” in mind but he doesn’t share that with us, at least in the early going.

Side note: I have found when people are trying to put forth an argument for some position, be it political, philosophical, scientific, or legal, they tort out their least defensible postulate as if it were established fact first, in the first few pages and go from there. I get the sense of that here.

In one section, talking about simulation (on page 3), he talks about some who is not sick is simulating the symptoms. I am not sure here but he seems to arguing that is someone is say producing a fever but does not have say a cold that that blurs the difference between the imaginary and the real. I don’t see that. Let’s take two people – both have a fever, on has a cold, the other has manifested the symptom due to a virus the other due to a mental condition. The fever is ‘real’ in each case, just the cause is different. That patient B is the cause and not a virus is immaterial (and that he could be doing this sub-consciously makes no difference here despite what Baudrillard says in a very weak comment) to the reality of the cause and symptoms. Really.

What he could be saying, and this is a translation, is that how we think about reality has changed. All I know is the book’s giving me a headache. I need to go watch a bad film and go to bed. Maybe even Mesa of Lost Women.

Blogger is hating pictures again.

TODAY

Is National Talk like a Pirate day.

I love the world, just when I’m feeling a little blue the world presents me with something so amazingly wonderfully stupid and silly that arrrr Jim lad, I’d be a scurvy dog indeed if I did not join in….

One thing to remember about pirating – pillage then burn.

Here be the web site blind Pew: http://www.talklikeapirate.com/

Open mike went well Sunday however we visited by the creepy poet guy. He’s a frail little guy, with sharp features, who always seems to be trying to hold back the onset of a violent psychotic episode. There is something off in the way he moves, very sudden movements and there’s a little hint of recognize my specialness or I’ll kill you in his manner – the whole package creeps you out.

Anyway typically he does poems – this time, I guess cause he’s an actor he decided to do some dramatic monologues. But he didn’t bother to explain or set up the monologue (it’s wasn’t that hard, something like “this is a man talking to his wife about why he is leaving” would do) we didn’t know who he was supposed to me or what the hell was going on. He’d just start talking and you didn’t have the vaguest idea what the hell was going on – it was a moment of pure dada - performance stripped of any attempt to connect with the audience. I started to drink heavily (my apologies to all of those I told how much I loved them – bourbon can make me sentimental). It seemed the right idea at the time. By the time he was done (he did two monologues and a poem) I was ready to confess to stealing the crown jewels and killing the queen if he would just shut up.

Anyway he finally ended – and we had half the crowd we had had before he stared. Some to go home, some to go throw themselves in the east river, some simply to bash their heads with rocks until the pain stops and they fall into sweet sweet oblivion.

And then night was redeemed by some songs from Emily. She’s a young woman with a voice you want to sleep with. Simply fantastic. Why the hell she isn’t famous and rich and making records right now is utterly beyond me. And I’m not the only one to think this, while she was singing one of the other players at the open mike said, “Compared to her, we all suck.” I’d listen to her sing the phone book.

What we need to do is send creepy poet guy to the Coffee shop open mike night; I’m willing to bet several people there would chew off their legs to escape. Attitude wise he’s a perfect fit. Arrr Jim lad.

A REQUEST

I was at a reception yesterday – a friend of mine had gotten married in Minnesota and I couldn’t make it cause I was flat broke – (still am really) but so many folks were unable to make it, they decided to have another reception at the restaurant here in New York where she and her husband first met (I could gag but it’s their wedding and life not mine.) and something happened that spawned this request.

As side note while the chances of me getting married are smaller than that of me winning lotto twice in a row, I'm told in Vegas there is a replica of the Bridge of the original Starship Enterprise (the Captain Kirk years) – and you can have a wedding there – I don’t know if Elvis takes your vows but hell this is Vegas for money anything can be done – so if I find a woman that would consider that, I’ll know I have found “the one”.

Anyway back to the story – I was eating dinner – a little uncomfortable because I didn’t know anybody at all really. I’m good not in those kind of situations – give me room full of total strangers and a guitar and a stage I’m okay. Give me rooms full of strangers with the command go mingle and well, I’m one of the first to leave.

As dinner went on – I ended up talking with a few people including the a woman to my left who knew a friend of the bride or some such, I don’t remember her name. We talked about little things, this and that, my friend asked me how the band was going so I talked about that, mentioned the next gig (never hurts to schmooze a bit you know) and I was feeling well – this is sooo bad – I’m being fed at least.

Then it happened

“you now something?” the woman next to me said,

“No,” I said, “what?”

“You remind me of someone.”

I shrugged – I’ve never been much for the you look like stuff

“Who?” I asked, “As long as it’s not Raymond Massy or Boris Karloff some like that.”

“No” She said “you look like that guy from Cannonball run 2.”

I started to get a little ancy “What guy?”

‘The guy who plays the doctor Burt Reynolds drives around.”

“The proctologist?” I asked , making the weird probing movement he made in the film. “Him?”

“Yes.”

“But one of his eyes is off, a thyroid eye I think.” I said (I found out I was wrong.)

“Well not the eyes, but the nose and the forehead.”

I just shook my head “great I look like the weird looking guy who gets chosen for ugly sidekick parts.” All the while thinking (“forehead? Forehead? Who looks at a forehead? There’s nothing to a forehead, It’s the blank bit between the hair line and the eyebrows.- I think she was reaching.)

“He’s a character actor.”

"Cause he's ugly."

I admit I got a bit petulant - Listen I’m no shining example of male beauty (only two women have ever told me how attactive I was and I can vouch that both of them were crazy to the point you have to question thier judgement about such things) still nobody likes to be told they look like Jack Elam - shown above. (He was the actor we were talking about – nobody knew his name at the time, I had to look it up later).

Fortunately desert arrived soon after and the party broke up – I said my good byes and went home to find out the Mets had lost again. (This left hander thing is going to cripple them in the playoffs if they don’t get it taken care of).

This brings me to my request.

Ladies and Gentelmen, if your talking someone you’ve just met and you think he looks like some butt ugly actor who made his living playing bad buys and butt ugly sidekicks – please keep that to your self okay? We homely guys know we’re homely, we don’t need any one else to point that out to us okay? Thank you.

Oh yes the E-Harmony Sports nut ad is about as weak as it gets. The only reason they would run an ad like that is because you can't find people on e-harmony who are interested in sports. lame lame lame.

O WHERE ART THOU MUSE?

Fridays, to paraphrase Arthur Dent, I can never get the hang of Fridays. I see those signs, usually featuring a kitten hanging off of something that say “Hang on baby Friday is coming.”

I never got this. In my experience Friday is the day that most of the top people in a company realize they haven’t done anything this week and panic. And so we have an emergency every Friday afternoon around 2:30 – something has to get done. Now!

Never fails.

So as I wait for the shoe to fall – I’m trying to figure out the over all story for my Killer Sheep play – I have some people in a bar surrounded by killer sheep. The only thing I have to do now is explain how they got there, how they relate to each other and what happens. That it’s so far a one act one scene play limits it a bit.

Hey I like a challenge. And this is the kind of thing I like, set up an absurd situation or take an absurd title and figure out how to get to there in a way that isn’t completely arbitrary. It has to make sense that these people are in this bar, it has to make sense that they are surrounded by killer sheep, bipedal killer sheep to be exact, and their actions in the bar have to make sense. This will call for some heavy lifting but I think I am the man for it.

Meantime I’m kicking around, like I have been for years a song about someone who has multiple personalities. It started as joke – I was at one open mike where the limit was two songs ( pretty standard) well two people got up and said since they were two people they would both do two songs. It seemed stretching the rules a bit so I wanted to go up and claim that I had at least sixteen different personalities of which seven had written songs. I have yet to finish it but it’s moving. My silly ideas are not something I can push. Lord knows I’ve tried.

Today’s title comes form a fax I saw advertising a class for executives it claims to show them how to connect with their inner creative selves. Good Luck. Most executive types I’ve known long ago took their creative sides out into the woods, forced it to dig its own grave and then behead it with a shovel. You have to do this to get an MBA in the top schools I’m told.

There is a comic book convention in town this weekend – I’m going to try and see what’s up on Sunday (admission is $5 after 2 pm and I’m kind of broke these days). Haven’t been to one in some time. Should be weird fun.

By the by the picture is of Diana Rigg. I'll bore you with my obession with her some other time. Till then - You have your muse, I'll have mine thank you.

OH SHUT UP

Short today – I’m busy.

I have given up on the idea of getting to work on time this week – every day something has gone wrong either with the switching or the train it self.

My stop is an elevated stop; the next to last in Queens on the W & N. From my stop you can see the last stop. Nothing makes your early morning like standing in the rain watching the two trains in the last stop not move for 15 minutes.

I find myself imagining the conversation between the Conductor and the engineer of the next train out going something like this

“Want coffee Al?”
“Sure.”
“Milk”
“Make it skim”
“Sugar?”
“Sure.”
“One Lump or two?”
“Lump?”
“Sorry how many sugars?”
“Two.”
“Okay.”
“Say how about those Knicks”
“Shame they can’t get it together.”
“Shouldn’t we be going soon?”
“No – the W has to leave first.”
“But it’s having mechanical problems.”
“It has to leave first – if we did we’d be early.”
“Can’t have that.”
“No can’t have that.”
“More coffee?”

And so on. Finally the train comes it’s mobbed – and we are going slow cause a full train is pretty heavy – and it takes forever to get out each station as desperate people try to squeeze themselves into a full train.

The conductor meantime is saying: “Please use all doors on the train line.”

I don’t have faintest idea what the hell he means but he keeps saying it over and over again. And seems ticked nobody is paying attention to what he’s saying.

Finally we get to Queensbrough plaza, there not only does he go on and on about the doors on the trainline he announces in big big booming voice – that all our bags can be searched and it’s 8:54. Then he thanks us for riding the MTA.

Just shut up. Please. If you have any humanity at all just be quiet. It’s a rainy day, the summer is over and the train is jammed with people who are all going to be late for work. The last thing we need is someone with a voice loud enough to stun birds in flight and knock them to the ground the sky telling us that we should keep an eye out for suspicious backpacks because we might get blown up otherwise.

Death by Explosion would be at least be quieter.

The day hasn’t gotten much better since. They never do.

UPDATED GIG INFO AND MORE ABOUT SHEEP

Okay – short post after the long long long bitter mean and nasty rant yesterday.
We have a new time and date for the Gig at Otto’s Full details as follows:
Bob Muir and the Enemy Below
Friday, September 29, 2006 -Midnight
@Otto’s Shrunken Head
538 E 14th Street
Between Avenues A&B.
http://www.ottosshrunkenhead.com

Be there or be square.

We have some lovely new stuff for everyone – including a complete version of “The Bondage Song” with like verses and everything and mayhap a snarky song about folk singers if I can get it up to speed and it fits in the set.

I have discovered it’s hard to do a song about gun wielding Pandas and robots disguised as Bigfoot stealing my stuff., but never fear – it took me 8 months to come up with the words for “People with Insect Heads” after I got the title so I’ll keep on it.

When I get a moment (or maybe just manage to wake up on time) my next long term project (other than losing weight) will be a one act play about a group of people trapped in a bar (al la Shawn of the Dead) by a horde of Giant Mutant Bipedal Killer Sheep – or GMBK’S for short who have attacked the town.

It’s a sequel to my Screen Play Bikini Zombies which hasn’t been made into a movie yet. I like that – it amuses me in a very strange way doing a sequel of something nobody’s seen (not that anybody’s going to see this either but let us let that go).

I don’t have a lot just yet – only the general situation and back-story – which people seeing the play won’t see (something else that amuses me)

So far the only bit I have is a part where the bartender shows a patron why they aren’t watching the TV in this crisis.

Patron: Why don’t you have the TV on? Maybe we could find out what’s happening.

Bar: Want to know why I don’t have the TV, here. (Points remote at screen – Audience can not see the screen but they hear the following:

Female Newscaster voice: Tom how did it feel watching your wife being eaten by a sheep?
(Bartender changes channels)
Male Newscaster: And the word we have from the Never land Ranch is that Michael Jackson is safe, sadly his pet chimp
(Bartender Changes channels)
Female voice: Of course this is Clinton’s fault, he…
(Bartender shuts the TV off)

Patron: Yes I see now. Juke box still work?

More silliness as it comes to mind.

DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN!

Okay so I’m in something of mood anyway yesterday (9/11 and all that) and I get this e-mail from Otto’s saying there’s been a double booking and we’re not going to play on 10/7.

Great just f-king great (I’m really really trying not to curse) – right now I have a call into the lady at Otto’s (names I’m so damn bad at names – it’s a good thing everybody calls me Bob all the time, I’d be in trouble otherwise.) asking why don’t you bump the other poor dumb son of a bitch – we’ve been promoting this gig and we need this gig so we’re sharp for Florida.

I don’t expect much but at least I will get my say. I suspect that the other group was booked first. They have two bookers and confusion ensues.

You know if I win the mega millions tonight (fat damn chance that) – not only will we set up our own studio – I’d buy a club so we and other people can play music without having to deal with this kind of gibberish - yeah we’ll lose money hand over fist but hell – we win 135 million we can afford a loss leader for a few years. Hell record your cd with us and have the release party at the club – one stop service. Yes?

Well that’s just silly revenge fantasy – what will probably happen will be that we’ll get bumped and we won’t win lotto and we’ll try not to play Otto’s again – this is the second time we’ve had problems there - excellent Mai Tai’s notwithstanding. So it’s looking for other places we do the next few weeks.

Yesh – first the recording gets pushed back, the Art or Something Like it deal gets pushed back, the O’Hanlon’s open mike is drying up and now a gig gets knocked out from under us – it’s like the world keeps tossing up delay after delay at us. I know the whole idea of what does not kill you makes you stronger (a very dubious idea I have to say – see the Black Knight from Monty Python and the Holy Grail) but I have to say this kind of shit just pisses you off.

And gives me a headache.

Random Neural Firings:

Did the owner of the Minnesota Vikings go to his people and say “gentlemen I want you to design the ugliest uniform you can.” It sure looks that way to me.

I hate romance advice columnists – I ended up reading one today – guess I wanted to finish the bad mood off – topping it like off like adding some cinnamon on the top of a cup of capo chino. Anyway this heart doc gives the usual advice – you have to go get out there “Join a club, take a class, or go on a getaway for single people. Practice small talk wherever you are—in a bookstore, at a café, and anywhere else where people gather.”
She also says you must refuse to be a victim.

To quote a Bill Cosby “Righhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhht”

Babe I’ve done that – to the point where I’m just sick to death of it, Sick sick sick sick sick. At this point in my life, I’d rather write demented rock songs about Pandas with guns robbing the 7-11 again than deal with that nonsense.

Cause it doesn’t work for me. Really. Trust me on that. I’m sure for others this stuff works like a charm. Of course they don’t get their gigs canceled either. Me? Well for me my small talk efforts go like this.

“Hi”
“My boyfriend says hi a lot.”

“So do you like the class?”
“I was just telling my boyfriend how much I like this class.”

And so on.

Yeah yeah I know – keep trying, don’t give up, yada yada yada, there is someone out there (by the by I really really hate when people say that, considering that the population of the earth is 6.6 billion or so, my chances of meeting the one are small, about the same as the odds that two gnats flying in the grand canyon will collide head on) – and there comes a point were you just get tired. Tired of the rejection, tired of your ego getting beat down like a wack o’mole, tired of the whole chase. I don’t want to end up talking to my food like the guy in the Milky Way commercial. I have a little self respect.

And hell it’s not like my relationships have been such wonders that I’m all hot to get back into another one.

So I’ve decided to just be me – bad movie fetish and all.

And oh yes – work stinks today.

Last note – Daffy Duck is becoming something of a personal avatar. That’s not a good thing.

A Quiet Day

Not much in the mood to write much of anything – 9/11 and all that has me in a very quiet mood. Perhaps even pensive. 9/11 was the start of a roller coaster series of events in my own life (Mom dying later that year, moving to Astoria, getting girlfriend, getting laid off, getting new job breaking up with girlfriend, getting laid off again, getting new job again, my dad’s health problems, starting up band) that hasn’t quite finished its run yet soo I don’t feel able to comment on it much.

I was at work near where the Staten Island Ferry – 125 Broad Street. Due to the sight angles and such – we couldn’t see the towers from the court yard where we were standing when our building was evacuated. What we did see was a 20 story wall of smoke heading towards us coming down the street like a tidal wave when the towers fell. And then we were covered in ash and confusion.

The rest is kind of numb. I walked north with my co-workers – one of them Gary had had some training with the scouts of all people and made us buddy up and keep together. Bless him for that. I sure as hell didn’t know what to do – other than head north and get home somehow.

That’s about it. Nothing too different from anybody else – just a memory of confusion and dust and wanting a cigarette for the first time in years.

Other things:

Over the weekend I saw a VH1 show called “When Metal Ruled the World” the story of the time when the big haired party bands like Poison and Motley Crew from LA and oh yes Def Leopard strode the earth like gods. Yes back when music just sucked beyond human comprehension – a combination of self indulgence, selling out and awful songs that became a perfect black hole of suck.

It was an avalanche of rotten and yet successful bands – each one had two hits – the hard rockin’ party hit and then the power ballad.

The hard rockin’ hit was bad enough but dear lord the power ballads. Ugh. Very little drives me closer to suicide than a power ballad – even now when flipping through the channels and I come on some feather haired guy with mascara sitting on a stool strumming an acoustic guitar. You see the rest of band sitting around him in a circle nodding ‘casue this song is really deep, one of them will take a small sip from a bottle of jack’s (have to keep the party image) Watching I feel my will to live slipping away. Better oblivion than this.

I noted with amusement that a lot of them didn’t think Spinal Tap was funny – which proves – a) they were idiots and b) they were really that self absorbed. And when Nirvana came out with Smells like Teen Spirit (which was the first new song in years that I liked) the whole scene died a painful death.

They have tried to get a hair metal revival going from time to time but yah know – some things never come back – let’s hope this is one.

In the end the hair bands were not about music – they were about using music to get cash booze and babes – crass, tasteless, shallow, phony and completely forgettable.

Just like the 80’s.

GOJRIA

Well I spent most of my free time watching this – so far about four times at last count. I do that with films a lot. I also re-read books – for example Fear and Loathing In Los Vegas – by the late Hunter S. Thompson (about 10 times). An ex-girlfriend once suggested I might have some high end autistic tendencies since I like to be alone, and I watch films and read books over and over again, which per her are autistic traits. I take this with a grain of salt – she had experience with autistic people and sometimes that makes you like the man whose only tool is a hammer, everything looks like a nail to you or in her case everything looks like Autism. I have some wiring problems in the head but I don’t think it’s linked to the condition known as autism.

She’s not my ex because of that – she’s ex because she was dealing with a lot issues from her prior relationship and that adversely affected us and she decided this wasn’t going to work. That she stored up everything I had done wrong while we were together and told me about them the day we broke up and she couldn’t understand my new found passion for the Residents (who I was in the process of discovering at that time) and that she acted batshit crazy didn’t help.

I admit I get very excited about things like that bands, a movie, an author, artic exploration, dinosaurs, whatever, and tend to as I put it – jabber intensely about them to anybody. I remember what my dad would say to me when I was like that.

He would say. “Shut up. I’m not interested”.

I never wonder why I have self esteem issues.

Back to Gojria – (the uncut Japanese edition). It’s a much darker film than the Raymond Burr version (which was no walk in the park) and there is an almost over powering sense of loss and dread here. This isn’t the fun – smash up stuff of say Godzilla vs. Monster Zero. This is about real things (as real as you can get with a 50 meter tall monster) real death and dying real loss. Here Godzilla is a personification of and not a symbol of the atomic bomb. He’s not hungry he’s not looking for something he just destroys everything that is in his path.

Really it’s quite the anti-war film.

Trivial Gojria notes: there were two monster suits and one hand puppet. One way the fire breathing effect was made was by spraying water out of a hose in the puppets mouth. The suit weighted over 200 pds and the longest anybody could say inside the thing before passing out was 20 minutes. The film cost more than the Seven Samurai which Toho also made that year.

DEN O’ PRETENTION ™

Short version: We go back to coffee house to do two newer songs. We discover new reasons we don’t like folkies.

Why? Why the hell did we do it, again? Human weakness I guess. In all of us we find ourselves in the middle of something and end up saying “Oh hell not this shit again.” Once again you’ve gotten yourself in a mess. And it’s the same damn mess every time. We drink too much when stressed, we are careless with money, we don’t always listen to the other person in a relationship, we fall for someone who’s already attached to someone else, we all have that one something that we keep screwing up time after time. You can call it our Charlie Brown moment. That moment when we are in mid-air right after Lucy has pulled away the football yet again. It’s not like we didn’t know that was going to happen. It had happened every time but nooooooo, rather than face facts we were sure, sure that this time it was going to work out.

And then WHAM! You hit the ground. And not only are you hurt, but you are embarrassed as hell because you knew this would happen. How could I be such an idiot? AGAIN? How? And what the hell am I going to do about this tattoo?

Well that is a long way towards going to explain what the hell happened last night.

We went to the coffee shop again. The scene at O’Hanlon’s is running dry and we figured we would go play at the shop again – live performing before the gig. We picked a couple of songs and went in to sign up. Then we got two overprice beers and waited for the event to start.

Okay now we signed up to be 3rd up let us and the crowd warm up. But no – we ended up first.

“I thought we had signed up to be third” I said.

“Well you did” the host said, “but you’re on now.”

Oh great I thought, one of those. I’ve been to my share of open mikes and baby the worst of the lot is when the host or the guy running it just tosses out the sign up sheet and puts people where he wants. Nepotism, cronies, playing favorites what you will. The In crowd out crowd thing.

It just sucks.

Well we played – first song went over well, it was the brain eating song, followed up by Ode to a Glock which for some reason makes some people nervous. Which is what happened – which is good.

Truth be told we wrote both songs cause we both have a problem with der volk and the songs are not subtle parodies of the style of song you get at coffee shops.

Anyway we were discomforted after our singing and grabbed another expensive beer.

What made it worse was The Insect girl had shown up and she wanted to play. She’s not quite the ham/attention whore I am so playing in front of people is a white knuckle moment for her. But we encourged her and she signed up.

As the evening wore on and we were exposed to a lot of covers (even one of a Duran Duran song– karmic payment I assume for making a joke about them yesterday.) and off key singing (I know I sing flat but lordy at least its almost musical) and just holier than thou attitude.

Everyone seemed to assume they were the hippest most sensitivest folk in the room. One guy said before he launched into a cover “this is a Bare Naked Ladies song, if you’ve heard of them.”

Jack I’m so out of the loop I’ve come around to the cutting edge and I’ve heard of the Bare Naked Ladies – I don’t have any of their albums cause I’m broke these days but Jesus don’t assume folks don’t know. And if they haven’t heard of them, don’t make into an I’m hipper than thou moment. Lot’s of people have no bloody clue about Robyn Hitchcock but when I find that out I’m like “Hey he’s great you should check him out.” I’m not trying to score cool points at the coffee shop.

Anyway as the evenningworeongandonandonandon the Insect Girl was getting angrier. Her temper snapped when this guy walked in and was plopped down in front of the mike because he had someplace else to go.

Well hell don’t we all? Why assume I don’t have something else to do? You know I could have two beautiful Asian woman waiting for me at my apartment wearing nothing but baby oil and… well no…not really, I mean if I had that waiting for me I wouldn’t be this lame ass open mike right now would I?

So the Insect Girl, after speaking to the guy, got to sing (doing a damn fine job the way)and we got the hell out of there.

We will be back next week, but we promise to sing them a pair of our most deranged and evil hearted songs. Their wounded dove act brings out a dangerous wildness in me and makes me want to hold a broken bottle to their necks (metaphorically) just to jar them out of their head up their ass narcissism.

(sorry about the constant editing but I am a bit dislexic and letters that I knew I meant to type aren't there - same thing again and again yes?)

WELL WE’RE INSULTED

Just took a look at the calendar for our October gig as the Junction in Clearwater– (the website is: thejunctionclearwater.com/) to see what they had.

What they had was this:

"Bob Muir(& Brian Yarbruogh)the Enemy Below/The Voyeurs

Start Time: 9:00 PM

________________________________________

This isn't the Brain we all knew, see what New York has done for/to Brain.www.theenemybelow.blogspot.com.
Also performing The Voyeurs from Tampa, www.thevoyeurs.us
(P.S. Carrie & Brian are getting married Sunday)"

Okay – first thing, aside from the misspellings (which I’m no stranger to) – he’s The Enemy Below – he has no idea who this Brian (or Brain) guy is – at least when he’s on stage.

And I resent the implication that New York has done something to the Enemy Below – as far as I can tell he was always as sick and twisted as he is now. He just didn’t have the chance to express it. For example, both of us always wanted to do the ultimate definitive song on brain eating but until we got together it just wasn’t happening. Now it has.

Yes he can play and sing beautifully crafted conventional love songs but we are just so much happier writing and singing about twisted sex, work as a level of hell, creepy guys with issues and that alien robots, disguised as Bigfoot, are stealing our stuff.

SONGS WE'D LIKE TO COVER SOME DAY

Right now we're just getting started but someday, we like Bob Dylan, John Lennon, David Bowie, the Band, and Duran Duran (well mabye not Duran Duran) will find our ourselves creatively spent to regroup we will issue an album of covers that let the fans know where we came from.

So far the following song are on the list.

Gay Bar - Electic Six - you need to hear this song. google flying viking kittens and click on the resulting website. Don't do this drinking coffee you will spray your keyboard.

Werewoles of London - Warren Zevon. Any song with the line "he'll rip your lungs out jim' needs to be sung loudly and often.

Bikini Girls with Machine Guns - The Cramps. Sex? Yes. Violence? Yes? Maddness? Yes. Insane B-movie style sleaze? Yes. It may be the best song they ever did.

JUST COMPLETELY GEEKING OUT

Well boys and girls the instant I get out of work I am going as fast as my legs will take me (in New York Rush Hour traffic) to the DVD Store. A day I have long long awaited has come; the original Japanese language version of GODZILLA sans the Raymond Burr footage is available on these shores for the first time ever. The DVD includes a re-mastered version of both the original Japanese language version and the US Version. Along with learned commentary from a Godzilla expert. Let me retype that again a 'Godzilla expert'. I can only presume they paid him – which means that he (not a lot of Godzilla experts are women – I’ll ponder why some other time, I think on the whole that women are just too damn bright to waste their time on this junk - as interesting as it is) got paid for being an expert on this topic.

Not a lot of time here – one of the lawyers where I work is out sick and we are utterly swamped. So report on the film – and other releases coming up “Godzilla Raids Again, Godzilla vs. Mothra, The Terror of Mechagodzilla” (NONE of which have been released in their original Japanese versions here in the states. EVER!) will have to wait

Ukaa bwow nard flapper – oh oh oh yes OH GOD YES!!!!!

Sorry geeked out there for a moment. When I have time I will go into more detail on the mystery of the nerdgasam. It's not pretty I promise.

Quick shout outs: Tony, Linda – check you myspace accounts – we wants to be friends yes we do.

Later for now oh me dada droogies.

IT’S DADA SCHMUCK

Finally saw the Dada exhibit at MOMA (Metropolitan Museum of Modern art) – all a bit much to take in. I was a bit disapointed that there wasn’t more showing of Dada as performance. At the café Voltaire (one of the birthplaces of Dada -Dada like punk just showed up all at once towards the end of World War One all over the place Zurich, Berlin, Hanover, Paris, New York – It seems Zurich was the first place to use the word Dada to describe what was going on, but that, in the true sprit of dada, is a matter of extreme long loud and utterly pointless disagreement.) the first noise being made was performance. G. Marcus in a heavy and weighty book that I will this time finish (Lipstick Traces is the title) – makes a connection between what was going on at the café Voltaire and the Sex Pistols – it’s a big book cause it takes a lot of words to link Max Ernst and Johnny Rotten. But the performances were the key at the Café. One of the last ones featured one of the leaders of Dada bringing up a headless mannequin and then offering it flowers. He then sat with his back to the audience and insulted them in a poem until they rioted smashing the mannequin and the flowers.

For reasons known only to myself I’ve often wondered what the real difference between Dada and Surrealism is , they are close, but in the end it’s that Dada dealt with the outside world specially how the audience was going react – and getting them to riot was perfectly acceptable result. Surrealism was more interested in the subconscious dream states and the like. Not quite the same. Of course that is a crude generalization and in the end probably more wrong than correct.

My fondness for Dada, aside from its silly name, comes more from the idea, the ability or desire to cock a snook at the well thought of, the standard or the expected. You need nonsense every now and then or else you’ll go mad. Really.

But as works or art, well, as I said the performance works which can never really be duplicated are the bit I find the most interesting. Cause well, it’s what we try to do in the band. The humor in, say, Some One Else, depends on the fact that people, up until the chorus, have heard this song about 100,000 times before, so when we launch into the cut to the chase chorus it whacks the listener in the ear. Yes it is linked to the verse but it isn’t what you expected. And that can be very funny – granted women like it better than guys but that’s a thought for another time.

And we do try to do songs about things nobody else would do songs about. And to a certain extent we have succeeded. Now if we can just get a logo. .

And for now: Dada Adad and good night.

Random late night thoughts.

I was going to write more this weekend – a pledge for the fall I guess like lose weight and pay my bills and write more songs but I ended up getting side tracked and writing a back story for the Insect Girls alter ego in the City of Heroes on line game that she and the Enemy Below and another friend are all getting very deep into. I would probably join them but I’m still too broke to get off the dial up and I’m worried that I won’t sleep at all if I end up on it.

You would not expect me to be something of jazz fan but there you are. Of the giants of post war Jazz, Coltrane, Davis, Mingus et al, it’s Mingus that I find the most interesting to listen to these days. I suppose it’s just because he used bigger forces in his bands and could get more sounds as a result. I love Coltrane but he almost always plays in a quartet and it can get a bit stereotypical – song – improv on the song – back to song. The actual playing by John is always amazing but too much of anything make you numb.

I have – to wander away from the subject (and just how can you wander away from random thoughts is a bit of puzzle but I feel like I’m wandering) I find the two records I have of Frank Zappa’s guitar solos to be a bit of a tough listen. Again it’s the sameness of them that kills their uniqueness. Also Frank had these solos as part of a unified whole for his show so to just pluck them out of the their context is to lose something important I feel, - my rave fave Zappa tracks are from “Roxy and Elsewhere” it was the old side three for you who remember records – and it when from Cheepnis – song about loving bad monster movies to “Son or Orange county” to “More trouble everyday” there is a seamlessness to the playing and the solos – there are two of them in the mix – pull you along and then plop you into the next song. It doesn’t quite work as well with the guitar solo albums. Like I said you lose the context.

Anyway back to Mingus, musically I just find it very fulfilling. Don’t think I’ll ever write anything like that but I enjoy listening to it. He gives me a bit of inward looks and life observation while Coltrane is the starry eye questor.

Quick prediction for the football season: The Eagles will not win the NFC East because they don’t have Terrell Owens on their team. The Cowboys will not win the NFC East because they have Terrell Owens on their team.

I should have know better than to watch anything with Arch Hall Jr. in it but for some reason I ended up renting (I mean I spend money on this kids – I can’t stand it) The Nasty Rabbit. Don’t ever make that mistake. Bad Monster movies can be funny in their own right, you can find moments of true bizarre humor them – as I’ve noted. But bad comedies are just painful very very painful to watch.

While Arch Hall Jr. was the, if you will, marquee name on the film he doesn’t get a lot of screen time – which is just as well. Arch Hall jr. if you’ve never seen him looked for all the world like a grown up pudgy cabbage patch kid with a oily blond D.A. hair cut that stuck out over his face like the bill of a baseball cap. He wasn’t good to look at no. MST3K did one of his films (Egaah ) and their first reaction to his appearance on screen was to scream in terror. He could sing a bit and play guitar and for some reason his dad thought he could be made into a movie star. After making some of the worst dreck on the planet and apparently one strange but good film (the Sadist – very dark film) Arch, who much wasn’t into making movies anyway, retired and earned a living as a pilot. We are all the happier for that him and us - one more Eggah and western civilization would collapse into a heap.

Anyway this dog of a film about a rabbit is supposed to be some kind of comedy – the main idea is that the Russians have a rabbit with some kind of bio weapon that a spy was going to release on the continental divide and sweep a plague across America. You know guys; even in the early 60’s bio-warfare is just not a subject for light hearted comedy. Yucks about the death of millions are hard to come by even for the wittiest of writers. Unless you are going to go totally black i.e. Dr. Strangelove but this was not that kind of film. This supposed to be a high spirited slapstick comedy. It’s not – it’s desperate people being stuck in front of a camera and being told to “make with the funny” so they mug and fall and run around and you just feel sad, sad that they did sad and awful film and sadder that you didn’t resist the temptation to see just how bad this movie is.

It’s a mark of just how bad the whole thing is that Arch Hall Jr. comes off very well in his limited role. Compared to the hyperactive nonsense going on around him he comes off hip and cool. Then he sings and gets the girl. Not bad for a cabbage patch kid.

Oh yes they use the rabbit as a Greek chorus or wiseacre saying some bon mots that will have you wanting to just bang your head on the desk until oblivion hits. That that or trying to remember the recipes for rabbit that Daffy Duck would read to Elmer Fudd to get him to shoot Bugs and not himself “Louisiana buck bay rabbit with carrot sauce, ah drool, dool”.

bloger hates pictures again. Add them later.

WE HAVE A GIG & BAD JOBS

New gig – 10/7/06 9 pm. Otto’s Shrunken Head. Crude flier & details to follow. Start Your Halloween early.

It being the Labor Day weekend, I am thinking about jobs, specifically bad jobs. Not bad jobs like most of us have, the ones where either we are so bored that we want to pull our heads off or we are so overstressed that we want to pull our heads off, jobs where we do not much but shuffle paper about hoping that the latest management craze doesn’t involve sending our job to India.

Most jobs are pretty damn dull when you get down to it. For the most part nobody is going to die if something isn’t done right away, at least nobody you know. But we have this eating thing and wanting to sleep someplace warm and dry and well that takes money and since the lottery guy steadfastly refuses to sell me the winning ticket, I, we have to work.

Back to bad jobs – skimming the web I came across this phrase: “artificial bovine vagina” let me write that again “Artificial Bovine Vagina”. You have to figure any job where you have to use an artificial Bovine vagina will just suck rockets.

It’s used in cattle breeding to…ah…shall we say extract semen from a bull for use in breeding. Prize bull semen (I never, ever, ever expect to write that exact phrase again as long as live) is quite the money maker with many ranchers using artificial insemination. Still somebody’s got to go put this thing on the bull’s mister happy and then take it off once the bull is, well, finished. Dealing with a ton of aroused animal is high on my list of things never to do. I assume they also have one for horses as well – but horses at least don’t have horns. (One of the undying rumors is that the Russian empress Catherine the Great died having sex with a horse when the supports holding the horse up broke – it’s not true but it’s one of those rumors will never die).

Thinking more I hope they don’t make the same guy do this all the time. Over time I think the bull would associate him with well good times and now I don’t want to go any further with that thought.

Speaking of large aroused animals – some years ago I was watching a nature show on TV. The scientist was trying to test the reactions of male Canadian moose to other male moose during mating season. He would do this by luring the moose into a clearing with the scent of a female moose in heat and then confront the moose with an artificial moose, some with bigger antlers some with smaller and he, safe in a tall tower, would note the reactions. That wasn’t the bad part.

The bad part was that his intern had to put the moose head on to get the moose to react. The TV announcer, in that hushed voice they use when narrating dramatic parts of a nature program (which actually makes no damned sense since he’s not there in the field with them is he? He’s in a studio for Pete’s sake.) “The moose has entered the clearing, licking his lips in arousal” (they are a lot like us in some ways).

That’s the point where I figure the Intern, wearing a fake moose head, less than 25 yards away from a large horny Moose is thinking “God in heaven if I ever get out of this alive I’m taking that job at Denny’s.”


Peace love Shonen Knife.