Madness as far as the eye can see

Busy day so not much for the blog – still some things have to be noted.

Senator elect Jeff Webb had a confrontation with the president the other day at some event for the newly elected lawmakers. W came over and asked how Jeff’s boy - who is a) serving in Iraq – get home safe kid and b) had been under fire a couple of weeks or so before and men had died – was doing. Jeff said “I want them home” and W instead of mumbling some platitude about how he prays every night or yes we all do but I feel that blah blah blah said per sources “I didn’t ask you that, I asked how he’s doing,.”

That’s stunningly rude coming from somebody’s aunt, never mind the president and what the hell got W’s panties in a twist? – doesn’t’ he know a lot of folks want the boys home? Has he never talked to one before? – Well knowing the bubble W lives I would not be that shocked if that was the case.

The conversation ended pretty quickly after that – with Webb furious and ready to “slug the president” which, while it has caused the old maids of the Beltway (George will for example) to clutch their pearls and faint - would have had interesting results.

W: He hit me! He hit me! I bleed! The President is bleeding!
Adie: Now calm down, you’re not bleeding
W: I’m on fire!
Aide: Sir you can’t catch on fire from someone punching you in the nose
W: Then I’m bleeding! Help! Decider down!
SS agent: Please get up sir, you’re causing a more of a fuss than we need right now.
W: I fuss, I president, I bleed! Get Hospital!
SS Agent (to Aide): So what to you think?
Aide: Well.
W: You find man that hit me, Kill him, then send him to Bay
Aide: Sir you can’t send a man to Guantamo after you kill him, you know that, now get up please,
W: No. Not until you get Doctor. Must not move spinal injuries.
SS Agent: Spinal Injuries? From a punch to the nose
Aide (to SS agent): He gets like this when he panics.
SS Agent: (To Aide): So what do we do – the press are right outside the door now.
Aide: (to Agent): frankly I’m just for leaving the ape here and letting Senator Webb finish kicking his ass but…

Again with the horrible fantasies.

Meantime Keith Ellison the newly elected representative from Minnesota is the first Muslim to be elected to the House. This has got some troglodytes panties in a twist – some nitwit is objecting to Keith’s plan to swear his oath of office on the Koran – he is insisting he use the bible – which is as stupid as it sounds. The constitution makes no mention of using a bible to swear your oath of office on, indeed the oath of office of the president does not include the words “so help me god” trust me – look it up if you want. I have to complement Keith on his patience with these idiots – first he had to listen to Glen Beck for all intents accuse him of treason and now this.
And by the way – how does it look to the Iraqis who are trying so hard to make into a democratic/secular society if we insist that non-Christians have to swear their oaths of office on a Christian bible? Just asking.

Someone else (Orson Scott Card) is in the process of having the worst written book in the history of science fiction (and that’s saying something) published. Called empire is has as its premise that sometime soon a leftist army takes over New York city and declares that it is the legitimate government of the us and civil war ensues.

Righttttttttttttt. Not only is the premise absurd on its damn face – New York? Has Scott ever been to New York? We’re a bit insular to be honest. A New Yorkers’ attitude is either “West of the Hudson you camp out” or “the Midwest starts at the George Washington Bridge”. At best you might be able to get New York to declare itself independent but try and take over the rest of the country? Nahhh – too much trouble and besides you can’t get good piazza or bagels.

Adding to the dumbness is the stilted and thick with right wing talking points prose that has already made this work a favorite of snarky left bloggers like Sadly No and Tblogg.
Really the stuff is “it was a dark and stormy night” caliber and too painful to share with you here – I don’t have time and well I need to save my strength if I am going to do Crossroads with Brittany Spears.

Meantime there was going to be a high stakes summit with the president of Iraq now there isn’t – nobody seems to be sure why – but it looks like the president of Iraq bowed out was a little but upset by a leaked memo that pretty much called him an out of touch idiot. It’s very odd and nobody really knows what’s going on.

Random Neural Firings:

The Residents have a new album – great something else to add to the list – guys I’m trying to save money for the recordings don’t do this to me.

It’s the problem when you are fan of what you can call a cult act – like the Residents or Robyn Hitchcock – you feel you have to buy the album when it comes out – they need the money. It’s silly it’s not like you don’t need the money either. I think I need to write about cult acts – seeing as we are one – in a future blog.

Have a new gig at Ottos’ 1/26 mark you calendars. It will be the last gig before we vanish into the studio to get out the album.

Speaking of the album – we are going to ask for your input here – soon I’ll put up a list of our songs and ask you to let me know which 10 you want on the first album – it’s embarrassing - we have about 20+ songs now and the list is growing so to make it fair we came up with this idea. These will be all new recordings by the way.

Classic Media has delayed the release of Godzilla Raids Again and Godzilla Vs. Motha until after the new year. While I can get them via mail order UPS doesn’t deliver to my apartment argggggg.

Until tomorrow.

Peace love Shonen Knife.

Glen or Glenda or whatever

I said I was not going to mock Ed Wood – he was too sad a case, too well too much like all of us to mock.

That is not to say that Glen or Glenda isn’t a weird ass film it’s just well Ed’s heart was in the right place.

It was his head that didn’t work so well.

I’m honestly not quite sure what Ed was trying to do here, there is a plea for understanding (a lot of pleas for understanding to tell the truth – a whole lot of them, many many many pleas for understanding so many you stop understanding and start thinking how much fun and how much less effort being a bastard is really – cause when you get down to it, part of the appeal of being rotten is that is it is so much less work. Say, someone drops something you just keep on moving, no risk to the back that way.

I digress.

Anyway this film is hard to write about because the narrative does not really proceed in a conventional form. It sometimes feels like the narrative doesn’t proceed much at all as stagger about looking for way out of the film.

It starts with Bela Lugosi sitting in a kind of tower chair in room filed with what looks lkike stuff looted from a fortune teller – he mutters some of what people have come to know as Ed Wood’s inimitable dialogue style. Then there is thunder then Bela is mixing some chemicals then says “a new life has begun”. He also says “pull the string here” and no I’m not sure what it means Well okay Bela, are we going to see this new life anytime soon?

Well guess not because we are treated to a dead man in drag. Which is not what I think of when I hear “a new life has begun” but anyway we have a suicide some confused milling about by Ed Wood Extras and then while the Detective reads the suicide note there is an inexplicable shot of the apartment’s steam radiator – I have no idea at all why this showed up. It’s intriguing in a pointless way to wonder but I assume Ed had no other shot to use so in she went.

Then we are in an office where a doctor is talking to the Detective about the suicide. The scene’s pretty static and dull but sets up the story of Glen – but we don’t go there yet – we get more stuff about the story and then Bela shows up and starts yelling – the story has begun – well I should hope so this is a movie and you expect a story in a film you know.

Well we get the first shot of Ed in Drag – and - well, even in the world were Eddie Izzard and Ru Paul are on TV it’s a bit of a shock cause, Ed doesn’t look that much like a woman, what he looks like is a linebacker in a dress – Johnny Depp is a smaller man than Ed was so actually he was able to pull it off better.

There is some kind of weird stock film use while voice discuss airplanes and cars – what that has to do with transgender or wearing woman’s clothes is a bit elusive but I guess, like the shot of the radiator, Ed had the film so in they go.

“Nature makes mistakes” the doctor says – my notes here say “Ed in a dress is a mistake”

Side note – I realized that I had no life when I was making notes while watching Glen or Glenda – it’s even more depressing to realize I’m not even the first person to do that as sad as that sounds.

Then the doctor goes off on a tangent about how much more comfortable women’s clothing is than Men’s clothing is, he talks about it a lot, a very long time – long enough for me to get to a soda while he was jabbering about this. It’s just another odd note in a very odd film. I don’t care how much more comfortable a woman’s robe is – Ed on the other hand cares a lot.

And then we have another Huh? Moment – we see a guy dancing in what is the fakest African mask I have ever seen in my life while 3-4 women dance around him. I can’t tell if this was stock footage or Ed shot this – it’s badly shot enough to be Ed’s work. While you are struggling to figure out what the hell is going on, the doc drones on about male birds having brighter feathers – again the link between this and wearing an angora sweater is a bit elusive.

Then we have the first of about 18 shots of a news paper the headline “world shocked by sex change” – The guy from the Razzies suggested using Glen or Glenda as a drinking game downing a shot each time the headline shows up – and it shows up a lot. So good luck if you try that.

Then, in the course of laying out Ed’s relationship with his girlfriend – the doc starts to overheat when describing the angora sweater – Ed really really likes the sweater – I was getting the impression that the only reason this guy was with this woman was that she had an angora sweater.

At this point Glen in wrestling with do I tell her or not – and for some reason there is a buffalo stampede after the girlfriend asks if there is another woman. No I don’t get it either. Again he had the shot so in it went.

Then there is lightning then thunder then bela then shots of a steel mill and a plea for understanding and my head is starting to hurt – then Glen almost buys a nightgown – this scene is more than a little creepy – then another shot of the sex change headline – then a side story about another guy in drag – then Glen as Glenda is wandering about, then more thunder and I start to lose touch with the film – my notes now start to wander away from the subject at hand – I see things like “must buy coffee filters” “Party Saturday” Then “Bela yammering about puppy dog tails and big fat snails” then “need to get new Bob Dylan album this weekend”

There is a prolonged dream sequence or something that starts out with the girlfriend trapped under a tree branch in the middle of their living room – no I don’t get it either. Then there is a wedding scene and a guy who is made up like the devil stands beside the minister while the couple state their vows and then we see woman laying on couch being hit by a belt wielding shirtless guy.

Nope don’t get this either – the dream sequence drags on for about 20 minutes – long enough to make a nice tuna sandwich – where the main message as far as I can see is don’t take naps – one women get’s tied up and another is attacked while she sleeps on the same – it’s a bit of a muddle. The guy who looks like the devil wanders about – Bela is shot like he's a guy in Porno Theater watching this stuff. Then Glen is menaced /surrounded by accusing figures from somewhere – where I don’t know we’ve never seen these people before – How about some cookies? Yeah cookies.

After more just drop dead strange moments – really its like a Martian had shot this film things just don’t make sense you try and try and then you got for ice cream or maybe a good shot of gin to take the edge off cause your head hurts and life seems just a confused absurd farce written by confused and befuddled deity.

Finally Ed confesses to his girlfriend about his habit, she doesn’t take the news well but after a moment – in the iconic scene from the film she hands him her angora sweater – it would have been a better moment if the doc hadn’t been giving a play by play account of what was going on – he’s more like it’s describing the film for radio than narrating

You’d think the film would end then but nooooooo we have another story – this time of a transgender person – it’s pretty drab after the belt hitting, Bela speaking about snails and women in danger on couches so I won’t bother you with it. My notes (god how lame is this) read “end! End! In the name of god End!”

After that we go back to Glen who, we are told, has found happiness with his new bride – who per the doc is “his mother, his sister and his wife and Glenda” which I’m sorry is really damn sick. I’d rather he be in a dress to be honest.

One more shot of the Sex Change headline – my notes read “what did they just stop publishing after this issue? Did this all happen in a day? Come on.”

Then Bela again talking about snails – don’t know why, not a clue by this time I was wondering if why there hadn’t been an irrelevant stock footage shot for a while.

Then came the credits – and I briefly thought of shaving my head, leaving everything behind and joining a Zen monastery were they didn’t show movies. Ever.

This is a film to borrow a quote about another book “shows what reality looks like from the other side”

I have had a request to write about the Brittany Spears Film Crossroads (AHHHHHHH!!!! IT BURNS!!!!! IT BURNS!!!!!!) – Which I suppose is just punishment for having opened up this can of worms in the first place. I’ll do it of course she’s a friend and she’s cute so me being me, I’ll pretty much do anything she wants, and what with Brittany in the news it’s almost topical but still – it BURNS!!!!!!

Later.

Peace Love Shonen Knife.

Hacked but not mangled

Well it is a cyber world – and it was bound to happen – yesterday my myspace site got hacked and everybody I knew ended up getting this absurd messages saying “Hi let me tell you about this great dating website …” and it went on and on saying something to the effect that I had gotten laid twice this weekend with two different women – something about which I probably wouldn’t put on a my space bulletin (I have some Paleolithic idea about not talking about such things) and if I did write about it, I would be writing about it here in the blog and the bulk of the message would be something like ;WOOOOWWOOOOOOWOWOOWOWOOOOOOOOOOOWOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And not a lot about the web site – let me tell you that. The problem is fixed but it’s going to make me more cautious about who I add – even if they are 23 year old female Asian bisexual co-eds with a web camera and a taste for playing naked twister.

Well in other weird things - it seems that the Bush girls are making something of a spectacle of themselves down in Argentina where they were visiting – the stories seem to imply drunken routs, one of the daughters had a purse snatched and there is story, denied by the hotel, of the daughters running naked down the hotel hallways. I think Time magazine tired to confirm the story – that’s a phone call I wouldn’t want to have to make. I mean I have little love, make that no love at all for W, I feel sorry for the poor time’s stringer who had to have a conversation like this with the hotel management.

Reporter: So , what I have to ask is, well were the Bush girls ah, well doing any exercise?
(Pause)
So they weren’t running naked down the hall? You’re certain of that?
(pause)
Well that’s odd because I didn’t ask if they were running naked in the hall.
(Pause)
I understand sir, some bra and panties are very sheer so someone could think people weren’t wearing anything.
(Pause)
I also understand that this wasn’t the case here.
(Pause)
They weren’t running anywhere.
(Pause)
They haven’t even been to Argentina I understand. Thanks for your time sir.

I horrifically behind work here otherwise I would be writing more – this will have to do for today – tomorrow Glen or Glenda for sure and some thoughts on Ed Wood who I will not mock. The film, like all of Ed’s work, is a study in bizarre strangeness but in Ed Wood’s work there was never the “only doing this for the paycheck” slapdash carelessness of a director like William “One Shot” Beaudine who directed such dreck as “Jesse James Meets Frankenstein’s Daughter” or “Billy the Kid vs. Dracula” – the New York Times in its TV section would always add the comment “by the maker of Panco Villa Meets Godzilla” in their review when ever either movie would air. And nothing Bela did for Wood was as bad as ‘Bela Lugosi meets a Brooklyn Gorilla’ – which I haven’t see cause I’m it’s not on Net Flicks and I’m not going to buy something I’m only going to watch once, it’s even an important bad film (if such a thing exists – like Plan 9 or Robot Monster or Manos) I mean really folks there have to be limits – that is unless everybody wants me to suffer. I like Bella and it hurts to watch him struggle to make something out of the junk he was given to do. One guy I read mentioned how much better Karloff was in The Body Snatchers than Bela but after watching the film while I would agree with him, I would say that it wasn’t that Bela was bad, it was that Lugosi was very obviously very very unwell and in a great deal of pain – you can see it on his face, it hurts to watch. Shortly after that film I understand Bela ended up on morphine.

More as time permits.

Diana Rigg as Emma Peel - haven't had one of these in while wanted on. Some day a dull essay on her.

BACK HOME

Home today – had a fine time at my brother’s but it was my niece’s birthday this weekend as well – her 13th (which to sound like everybody else in this situation “I remember when she was born – well duh) anyway she had 9 friends over for a sleep over (that and a 12 week old puppy, it was, interesting I have to say) and I seemed to have picked up a little bug from one of them. I’m hungry but my stomach hurts when I eat something. Thanks kids. Well I can use the weight loss. Esp. after thanksgiving.

Anyway, last Tuesday we got a wonderful reception at the Waltz-Astoria Comedy open mike. We were a little nervous before we preformed there. While we are used to our crowd and while we enjoy shocking the, shall we say, more folk oriented arenas (and you know who you are) this would be the first time that we were performing in front of a group of strangers and having to make “make with the funny” to people expecting it. I mean we are trying to make people laugh but well, if they are expecting a joke will it be as funny? You wonder these things.

The response was wonderful – people laughed at all three songs. And some people started dancing when we were doing Stacy – bless their hearts. Great times had by all. About three other comedians came up afterwards and thanked us. Well thank you guys.

Meantime we have another set at Otto’s on Friday Dec 8th at 8 pm – so if you want to start the weekend early come on down.

I keep wondering why I have no damn time to do anything then I take a look at my project list.

Songs to do (i.e. get in state where we like them enough to show them to strangers):
The Mid-life crisis song
Pity F**k
Robots took my Man
Bride of the Rat God
I wanna get laid (damnit)

And then you take working (not as much as I would like) on the Killer Sheep Musical (that’s a phrase you won’t get many hits if you Google it). And working on the press package – getting some head shots for us, and other booking keeping stuff, then and well, my job (which is paying for a lot of this these days) and you don’t have a lot time to spend watching the junk I love so much (which I do anyway which is the above stuff is still lacking - never mind unpublishable novel number 5 and another screen play). And not to mention this blog.

Saw two things in the nets – One is that the president is going to go to Europe and try to convince NATO to spend more money – well good luck with that. The way things work with him, we’re going to lucky if NATO doesn’t disband.

Speaking of people who seem to unable to soothe trouble waters by speech because their foot is in their mouth, the Pope is going to Turkey – with his sliver tongue expect riots.

Meantime, W hopes to raise some $500 million dollars for his presidential library – okay I’ll type that again because I had trouble with it, $500 million for W’s presidential library – which is a record for a presidential library. The irony of this is making my head exploded, the man barely reads (nitwit news stories about his reading lists not withstanding) hell he doesn’t even read the damn morning briefing papers.

Part of the money will be spent on having hacks who will for money write books that reflect favorably on W’s legacy – I’m not sure who they are going to get to do this since that seems outside the realm of even the wildest Science fiction writers, even those specializing in what is called alternate history.

As a side track for a moment, can I say that the standard alternate history “the south won the civil war” story does a pretty despicable dance around slavery, imagining it to have somehow faded away. Which seeing it was one of the rights they had been fighting for doesn’t seem too likely to me. Hell they would resist tooth and nail any change to slavery since patriot blood had been shed to protect it. Prior to the civil war the South was advocating the resurrection of the slave trade – something that would have led to a direct confrontation with England after the war (again had they won) who was in the process of trying to end the slave trade.

Well, be that as it may, the only people I can think of who will be able to write the books they want are going to be people who are brainwashed worse than the folks from The Manchurian Candidate “George Bush is the kindest most wonderful man I know”

Writer: Nooooo! I can’t I can’t. (Tosses pencil away)
Aide: What’s the problem?
Writer: I can’t write that! I can’t.
Adie: come on man, you worked for fox news.
Writer: No I’m sorry – even I have limits. (Gets up and leaves)
Clerk: What was he doing?
Adie: He was trying to write about the Ape’s farseeing wisdom and vision for America.
Clerk: But he can’t even remember the days of the week.
Aide: yes yes it’s a stretch. But make a note – first thing tomorrow, I will contact the Weekly World News – those people can write about anything.

The other thing that I wonder is just how eager are the big boys going to be to pony up some 10-20 million dollars a pop for this ego massage. One W stops being president, he stops being able to dispense goodies making his market value a lot lower. Again I suspect a tough sell.

Aide (on phone): okay $5 million if Cheney comes over and licks your desk clean. Okay I think we can work with that. Thank you.
Clerk: Who was that?
Aide: King of Saudi Arabia.
Clerk: And Dick Cheney is going to lick his desk clean?
Aide: It’s the best I could do. You should have heard what he wanted him to do.

Anyway upcoming – random thoughts about Mystery Science Theater 3000 and either Glen or Glenda or Manos the hands of fate – not sure which one just yet – I’ll get to both eventually but not just yet – these are, as you must understand, major works in dreck cinema and need commentary.

Here’s a silly question – for you out there – is there a bad film you’d want me to write about? Just asking.

Happy Thanksgiving & Light Blogging

Hi - out of town for holiday so the blogging will be a little light until I get back. Had a fine time at the Comedy Open Mike at the Waltz Astoria Tuesday - details to follow when I'm not using my sister in law's computer to post. Have a happy Thanksgiving. Just make sure the turkey is dead and cooked before you eat it - they put up the most ungodly fuss otherwise.

Later.

Magical Mystery Mess - and Robyn H.

Tired and feeling sick to my stomach – worried that the stomach virus that has been floating around Astoria – which took down The Enemy Below and the Insect Girl over the last few weeks will hit me just in time for thanksgiving. It is just my old paranoia showing up and making itself felt.

Anyway even great artists (with the exception of say Mozart and Bach) have stumbles, bad ideas or fallow periods where the inspiration just isn’t quite there – Bob Dylan had both his religious period and Self Portrait which prompted one critic to write “I said I would buy an album of Dylan breathing, I didn’t say I would buy an album of Dylan breathing softly” there is, to my ears at any rate, Beethoven’s utterly unlistenable Wellington’s Victory – Shakespeare has clunky moments (Henry VI part 1 for example – Joan of Arc as a witch – ouch) so even the gods stub their toes from time to time.

Even the Beatles – in 1967 they released a 50 minute TV show called “Magical Mystery Tour” and an EP – later an LP of the same name. Side note: In England at the time it was still common to issue a 45 with 4-5 songs on it (2-3 a side) both here and in the UK they took the original ep and added some singles to make a full length album – here endith the side note.

Frankly the film stinks – it’s not a total loss as we get to see a couple of Beatles songs done as music videos – but even there only I am the Walrus seems to have anything going for it or that the band even cares but the rest is a waste of time. Honestly,

The plot such as it is, are Ringo and his aunt buying a ticket on the Magical Mystery Tour Bus and things happen. Yep that’s it. Not a lot of this makes any damn sense or even is vaguely interesting. They were trying all sorts of ‘trippy psychedelic” images and again other than I am the Walrus nahhhhhhh. It becomes – oh lets do things like we did in Hard Day’s Night or Help but not care to make interesting.

The Beatles all looked stoned – and not in a good way anyway. They all looked doped to the gills because they are really really bored with what they are doing. And we soon we get really really bored – things happen but we don’t care – they prance about and we don’t care – they dress up in embarrassing wizard suits (yes it’s horrible – Paul esp. looks like a complete idiot) and we don’t care. Actually we care a bit because it is embarrassing as well. I don’t think much of drugs either way – they’ve killed a lot of good people over the years but that said it’s your own head but you have to know you can’t be charming and witty and spontaneous when you are wasted on was looks like a fistful of downer and red wine. And it doesn’t help that some of the songs are, well not quite the strongest the guys ever did – I love George Harrison but well, Blue Jay Way is endless and dull as hell and “flying” – the only Beatles tune credited to all 4 is just nothing – and there a fool on the hill has a maudlin undercurrent that always brings our the nasty cynic in me.

And then after all these oh so charming and light hearted moments – they go into a tent and watch a stripper while the Bonzo Dog Band does “Death Cab for Cutie” it adds a jarring sleazy low rent vibe to the show – which may have been the idea – they were all sick of the loveable teenybopper mop top image by then but still you can be an adult with out trying becoming a complete sleazebag – anyway the sequence made me want to take a shower.

And then it ends not soon enough – even at 50 minutes it was overlong bloated and god awful.

Anyway listen to the record – don’t bother with the film. It stinks.

Robyn Hitchcock.

Speaking psychedelic been giving Robyn Hitchcock some more spins or selections on the i-pod these days. Bob Dylan once described Woody Guthrie as “his last hero” and Robyn’s in that same area for me, either on his own or with the band The Soft Boys.

I just adore his stuff – where at least the best of it, it combines a childlike sense of dream world wonder, a romantic heart and dark touches – in one song he refers to romance as the little “kiss of skulls” and I think “Invisible Kingdom of Love” from Underwater Moonlight may be one of People with Insect Head’s Parents. There is a line there – “you’ve laid eggs under my skin, Now their hatching underneath my chin, all these tiny insects pushing through and all these tiny insects look like you” – Romantic Love to Robyn as to me – is not an alloyed wonder – it can be a thing of pure terror as well.

And in the same song a wonderful bridge “Ain’t no way I’m gonna be anything I outta be” which may sum up too much of my world view to be comfortable with it.

He’s not for everybody – but if you get him you get him. Best Alums are “I often Dream of Trains” the Soft Boys Underwater Moonlight, “Eye” solo and “Storefront Hitchcock”

For me – since he’s not afraid to pretty much say the first thing that comes to his complicated mind – he’s encouraged me as a song writer to go with things that normally you don’t think of as being song topics – People With Insect Heads and Killer Sheep.

Thanks Robyn.

Post 100 - no more open mike

That’s hard to write but a) the people are not showing up and b) neither I nor The Enemy Below or the Insect Girl have the time or the energy to keep pushing this rock up the hill. It looks like there are two other open mikes in Astoria on Sunday night – one where we met the jug eared insane person and one someplace else so it could be the one at O’Hanlon’s just got squeezed out – Astoria is full the new bohemia, well not really but while we do have a lot of singers and musicians about – we don’t have that many about.

So we’re taking break from that for a while. Tomorrow – The Enemy Below and I will be at the Waltz for their comedy open mike to see how our stuff plays to people who are their to be comedians or listen to comedians – who knows it might be a good thing – might suck but we have to find out.

Short post today I’m emptying boxes as part of the move– I wanted to do more as this will be the 100th post on blogger but well some things you can’t dictate.

It was noted that W in his trip to Hanoi did not; as Bill Clinton did when he visited years ago wander among the people of Hanoi, who unlike the folks in say Indonesia wanted to meet him. The press found this difficult to explain, the trip was intended to show that W was not the incurious dolt that he has seemed on other trips and that he was still a strong leader and really the Vietnamese were more than ready to make him feel welcome – but all he did was leave the hotel for 45 minutes, view an exhibit about the joint MIA project – not talking to anyone and then going back into the hotel

I think I know what happened.

Aide is knocking on the door of the presidential suite. He is not happy. A SS man is standing next to him.
Aide: Sir.
There is no reply.
Aide (Knocks again) Sir?
No reply.
Aide: to SS agent – What happened?
SS: he just ran in and locked the door. We had a hell of time keeping up with him.
Aide: what was he wearing?
SS: Sir?
Aide: What was he wearing? It’s simple enough question.
SS: some kind of camouflage jacket
Aide that’s enough. Okay, go tell the press secretary he won’t be available to answer questions for a while.
SS: okay
Aide: (knocks on door again): Sir you’re going to have to come out.
W: No come out. They kill me I come out. I stay here. Get me plane, chopper, get me out. out out out.
Aide: Sir, nobody’s trying to kill you.
W: I in Nam. They are going to kill me. I didn’t want to go to nam.
Aide: Sir the war’s been over a for a long time
W: the gooks will kill me.
Aide: Sir you say gook again and I will slap you baldheaded. Now you have nothing to be afraid of.
W: Why in Nam – daddy got me out of nam. Now he mad and send me to Nam to get me killed. Hate daddy.
Aide: Sir you’re overtired – just take a nap and everything will be fine.
W: Me hide under bed they no find me there.
Aide: yes you do that sir.
SS comes back with Press Secretary.
Press: What’s up?
Aide: he’s having a Viet Nam Flashback.
PS: but he was never here before?
Aide: He’s having a flashback as to why he didn’t go in the first place. (to the SS Agent) listen, he’s under the bed, in about an hour he’ll be asleep – when that happens you let the doctor in and he’ll give him another shot of his happy juice and we’ll be able to get out of here without incident.
SS: Like in Singapore.
PS: Can’t we just keep him drugged the whole trip.
Aide: It’s tempting but he does have to talk with the other leaders from time to time.

Ah horrible fantasies ring in my head. I have visions of Kissinger wandering around the white house like a ghost muttering “the war is lost! The war is lost!” over and over again while everybody ignores him like he was an Alzheimer’s patient in an old age home.

Anyway we look to record the album sometime in February down in Clearview – details are not set but when we know we’ll let you know – we’re also facing an embarrassment of riches we have too many songs to go on one cd. I doubt anybody on American idol has that problem.

Next up – an appreciation of Robyn Hitchcock and stay away from the Magical Mystery Tour video.

SEX, AEON FLUX, ROUND TABLES & NAM

I was reading the nets today and sweet Jesus – okay I just need to back this up a little.

There is something called the Office of Family planning. It’s a federal agency that is in charge of providing family planning (well duh) information and other services mostly for poor families who couldn’t afford it other wise. It’s a valuable service that helps prevent unwanted pregnancies and helps with other health issues relating to women (Pelvic and breast cancer screening and the like – all good stuff)

So who does W appoint to this?

Some completely barking mad howl at the moon style quack.

This jackass is some kind of big wig in the jabbering insane people, sorry, abstinence movement – who a few weeks ago were ginning up the ‘unmarried adults shouldn’t be screwing’ media blitz because they figured weren’t causing enough misery and unhappiness by making teenagers ashamed of their bodies and their desires. .

Before I get too off point, this nimrod (Dr. Erick Keroack to be precise) thinks that if women have too much sex they become unable to love one person due to the depletion of a hormone called oxytocin – apparently a hormone that is released during orgasms and in labor – I’m bit murky on the science here - which has some mood changing effects as well. Anyway Dr. Dipstick seems to think there is only a limited amount of this stuff in a woman’s body and once it is released you don’t get any more of it so you shouldn’t screw a lot, if at all. Which makes not one jot of fucking sense. While w have only a limited amount of say, teeth, lord in heaven unless having sex actually kills the cells that create Oxytocin you don’t lose your bodies capacity to create it. Indeed you’d think more sex would be better since it would as it keep the pump primed as it where.

Anyway what this schmuck – who, as several folks have noted, looks a bit like a Sasha Baron Cohen (“Borat”) character – really wants is people to not have sex because it’s bad – that’s the real deal. The hormone thing is simply something he’s seized – like a typical nutcase - to add a pseudo scientific gloss to justify his own ‘oh icky - evil’ feelings about sex. All I can say is ‘Paging Dr. Freud, paging Dr. Freud, emergency.’

And this is the wackjob (yes I am indulging in ad hominine attacks – shit for the misery this clown has caused and will cause he deserves it) that bipartisan W has decided should run the only federal family planning agency. Sweet merciful Jesus, Mary and Joseph on pogo sticks save us from these insane cretins. Sex is a part of basic human desires like eating and sleeping and should be accepted as that, and if you sleep with nobody or try to out do Wilt Chamberlain – that’s your choice and decision. We’re all different and what is right for one here isn’t right for another person understand? Sex can be infidelity wonderful or deeply wounding – but it’s a part of being a complete human being, it’s us folks– it is not some evil urge sent into our bodies by demons to sap our precious bodily fluids. SO LIGHTEN UP NITWITS AND SOMEBODY STOP W BEFORE HE APOINTS A MIDEVIL BARBER THE HEAD THE CENTER FOR DISEASE CONTROL ‘WE JUST NEED TO BLEED HIM MORE” BUT HE’S DEAD”

Sweet Jesus.

End of rant.

Couple of other things – Saw Aeon Flux last night - not as bad as I thought it was going to be – still it was pretty silly – lot of matrix style style (when are we going to get away from matrix style action scenes? It was great the first few hundred times but now, when the bullets start to fly and the people do the wire fu thing, I go yes yes nice but I’ve seen this before. It’s like eating too much candy – you get sick of it). Still Charlize Theon is very nice to look at in the tight bodysuit with cleavage – but lord the plot is damn silly. The original animated series deliberately made no real sense – so the writers had a problem making a standard movie out this – so they settled on a love story between Aeon and Terver Goodchild (in the animated series their relationship was a lot more ambiguous and complicated) and then they did some silly stuff with cloning. The idea is that humanity has been reduced to one city by some kind of plague. Goodchild manages to cure the plague but infertility is a side effect – so they clone people. Okay – the deal is however that in the movie people are haunted by memories of prior lives which is just stone bs. Memory doesn’t live in the DNA it lives in the brain – so unless you’re transplanting brains you don’t get the memories. Clone me tomorrow and take the kid to England I can promise you he won’t be haunted by memories of being a Mets fan(lucky bastard).

Other thing. It looks like Waltz Astoria Coffee shop wants to feature us along with two other bands that do comedy music in a singer song writer round table. Where each person or band talks about a song and does one, then another person and so on.

The possibilities for deliberate freak outs are just endless – mostly by pretending we are serious

“Well we wrote this song cause we were doing a lot of crack and this is what we came up with.’

“Don’t you see the people with Insect heads? They are everywhere. Oh my god ahhhhhh’

“No I was abducted.”

“I don’t know about you but I hear the bleating of the killer sheep when I try to sleep’

‘We wanted to do the definite song on brain eating – while we liked the misfit’s work very much it didn’t quite nail the subject completely.”

Let you know if this comes off. Could be very much weird fun.

Last other thing – W is in Hanoi today as a part of his ‘making people glad he’s not their president” world tour and spouted some gibberish about how we lost in Viet Nam because we quit or some such nonsense. God in heaven what a putz. Him saying anything about our lack of will in Nam when he and daddy made damn sure his lily white butt was not going to be in any danger during Viet Nam is enough to make you head explode.

Enough for now. I have to go find the pieces of my skull.

To be filed Under "yeah right"

Saw this e-mail in my myspace inbox and figured I had to share this - the following is verbatim:

"How's it goin? I'm Kristy, I just moved to the Astoria area and I wanna meet a nice guy around here :). I moved here to New York a couple of weeks ago for work and now that I'm here I have nobody to hang out with! I read your profile... You're cute and I liked what you had to say :).

I'm 22/F/single and I'm lookin for a guy who is a little bit older or more mature than me. You say you're 50 and you're cute so I guess you're qualified :)

My friend Jen from back home suggested I tried using myspace to meet people in my area. I just signed up and my profile sux hehe. I do have a blog/profile page at HoneyCheeks.com ... I have alot of photos and stuff up if you wanna see me.

I left you a personal msg on my homepage and I took a new pic for you today. Come check me out when you have a chance, k?

Lookin forward to seeyin ya,
Kristy "

Sorry Kristy I may be a lonely middle aged man who hasn't had it in years but I am not a stupid lonely middle aged man who hasn't had it in years.

SING OUT

Well that was better

We played at the Waltz open mike last night – it was a fine night – and the place was crowded – a heck of a lot more crowded than O’Hanlon’s has been the last few weeks I can tell you – we’re going to be pimping that bit more (and I did some pimping at Waltz for it we’ll see what happens.)

Anyway this will be short because I’m busy with the final “put stuff in boxes” rush. At first you are methodical and organized – then as the day of the move (Friday) comes upon you – you start tossing things into boxes and not caring what they are – three bottles of dried out white out? I might need that to , well if nothing else to remind me that I don’t need to use white out anymore with computers and what not – still had to type something last week on a type writer that was a pain – so yeah I’ll keep these – and in the box they go along with the manual for the computer you had before the one you work on now, and the pens at least half of which have no ink – which always makes “can I take a message” or trying to write something down when you think of it into an interesting game of ‘find something that writes’ – pull out a pen , no that’s got no ink and then – here’s the important bit – put the damn pen back in the Pencil/pen cup and take another one until you find one that writes. I don’t know why I keep doing that, but these days I’m leaning towards the theory that I’m stupid.

Back to the Waltz – we were able to give “The Legend of the killer Sheep” a proper singing. We had two songs so , per the Enemy Below’s idea we did Stacy first – they guy before us had been leading the crowd in a sing along so just before we started doing Stacy I invited folks to sing along – and some, bless their twisted sick hearts forever sang along – and some sat frozen faced and some were in hysterics. It was good – I’m not saying it’s better than sex (although I did have an odd urge to smoke afterwards) but it’s a damn fine feeling. That half shock half oh my god what the hell did they just say is the essence of what we’re going for here.

Then we did the killer sheep song and they didn’t know what the hell to make of it. It starts out like one of those 70’s metal band story legend songs al la (la la la la – I’ll stop) Uria Heep or well Stonehenge by Spinal Tap. And then we hit the chorus: “Baa Baa Bobby Baa Baa Bobby, Baa Baa Bobby – killer sheep they took her away” – I feel safe in saying that nobody in that coffee shop had ever heard anything like that in their lives. Again there was that mixed laughter and shock – like oh my god he’s totally out of his mind isn’t he. He’s singing about killer sheep. Yes he is.

It was great. Again I had the urge to smoke afterwards.

Random Neural Firings:

I notice the W is in Singapore, I know someone who lives there and I feel the need to apologize to her for some reason. So here it is. I’m Sorry.

Not that anybody here in the U.S. notices, but Newcastle United is in the drop zone in the EPL and that stinks.

I notice that W has sent back to the Senate for confirmation a number of Judges that were already rejected before. Well so much for bi-partisanship. Well in a few months – probes galore.

More adventures with teh dumb & Battlefield Earth

This morning, walking to work I noticed that some nitwit was standing in the middle of 7th Avenue against the light near Penn station taking a picture of a Maker’s Mark Whiskey Billboard.

For god’s sake – if you’re going to risk your life to take a picture at least be of something other than an advertising sign for Christ’s sake.

Anyway, since he was obviously a tourist – a native does not stand in the middle of 7th avenue against the light to take a picture – hell someone who’s been here two weeks doesn’t do anything that stupid. I figured he needed a good Nu Yawk multicultural experience so I yelled

“Hey schmuck, for Christ’s sake wait for the light you gonna do something like that.’

And then I added one of my favorite Yiddish words – “putz’.

Actually I don’t mind people doing stupid and dangerous things. I do mind having them do it while I’m around. Cause if something bad happens I’m going to have to be one explaining it to the police.

“So he was taking a picture.”
“Standing in the middle of street.”
“Yes.”
‘Didn’t he see the bus?”
“I don’t know. I assume he was concentrating on the picture.”
“Putz.”

Meantime in more adventures with the stupid – it seems there was a huge smack down on W delivered by Jim Baker in his role of Bush Family fixer in the oval office. (The following dialogue is maybe a bit speculative.)

Baker: Nobody likes you. Do you understand? People hate you.
W: people love me. I leader. They love leader.
Baker: listen ape you’re a cheerleader not a leader.
W: (goes into fetal position and begins to rock back and forth) I decider. I decider.
Baker: What the hell is this?
Aide; He gets like this when someone tells him the truth. You might as well talk to me; you won’t get much out of him for the next half hour or so.
Cheney: If I could put a word in here
Baker: Shut up deadeye. I’m here to save monkey boy because his father pays me. You? You I will toss under a bus the second I think it’s necessary to save the ape’s reputation.
Cheney: I
Baker: Shut up –now. You’re part of the problem here. Jesus I’ve spent my life dragging the Bushes’ asses out of fires.
Aide: At least the pays good.
Baker: And I don’t need any smart talk from you.
Aide: Well sir, it’s the only smart talk you’ll hear in this room.
Baker: (sighs) You’re right. Now where the hell is that Donald idiot?
W: Me want Condi, she love me. She say I leader.
Baker: I was done with this. But he said please just one more time – help him out. Weakness that what it just weakness.

And so on.

Anyway – Battlefield Earth.

This has been called Plan Nine From Outer Space with a budget and that’s pretty accurate. It’s one of the worst mainstream films ever made – I still post Bolero and the Exorcist part two as worse. But lord it is horrible and just so so so stupid.

It is based on a book by L. Ron Hubbard who in addition to writing a lot of science fiction also invented/founded/discovered the church of Scientology which numbers Tom Cruise and Jon Travolta among its members.

I know next to nothing about Scientology – but judging from these two – there seems to be a commandment that at some point you have to do idiotic things to wreck you careers – Tom with his couch jumping and other too strange to be done by a sane person actions and Travolta with this movie.

I was never a fan of Jon – like ever – didn’t like him in Welcome back Kotter and in Saturday Night Fever – which still represents to me the nadir of western civilization– the disco era. It took me a while to see pulp Fiction cause he was in it. ‘Oh come on – you’ll like it.” My brother said trying to get me to watch it ‘he gets shot in it.’

Anyway Jon was at the top of his comeback and decided it was time to do the dream project. I think everybody in Hollywood has their dream project – that if someone came to them and said – what do you want to do, this would be it.

If I ever get to that point (not bloody likely but you never know) but if you hear I’m doing Bikini Zombies know that some idiot has asked me well what do you want to do now, I’ll pay.

Dream projects – like Peter Jackson’s remake of King Kong, and the shot by shot remake of Psycho do not have happy outcomes by and large – Battlefield Earth is no exception.

The story opens – it is the year 3000 – the earth had been conquered by the Psychlos about the year 2000. The Psychlos are taller that humans, stronger and vastly more intelligent, they have conquered all sorts of planets we are told. Well okay – the first thing is that is implied is that they are taller because the gravity on their home planet is stronger. Well bunky if they did evolve on a planet where the gravity is stronger it is far more likely that they would be SHORTER since pumping blood against gravity is hard work and nature doesn’t work that hard except if it has a good reason. But never mind that.

The story concerns a guy named Johnny who leaves his human tribe (humans are in scattered isolated groups and have reverted to the stone age – well okay it’s been a thousand years but still would they all speak the exact same style of English? You wonder about stuff like this watching this movie). And discovers the Psychlos who desire gold above all else. Why – who the hell knows – its one of the strands of the story they never bother to explain it just is. Who apparently have forgotten in a thousand years that human beings build the ruined cities – or maybe not – it’s hard to tell. Still as the laborious plot develops – Johnny is captured along with some others and has his brain power increased by the Psychlos – and goes off to mine gold for them.

Jon Travolta plays Trel the lead Psychlo (I assume Ron thought up that name) heavy in the picture. The Psychlos all look like some weird Klingon/Rasta combo – and since the actors are all walking on extender boots to give them an extra foot or so of height – they all walk like they are on stilts i.e. very very slowly and carefully. I’m willing to bet that the outtakes featured a lot of actors falling off their shoes. Not a chance of seeing them but it’s fun to imagine. Small point – again if they had been from a high gravity planet they would be bouncing around like Neil Armstrong on the moon. Damn that science.

Jon overacts like only Jon can over act – with the Klingon/Rasta hair and the boots and the heavy metal fetish leather gear making it that much worse to look at.

Anyway – to warp this up quickly – Johnny and his band are sent by Trel to mine gold in an area where the radiation is to high for Psychlos – it is explained that ‘radiation’ will make the psychlo’s home planet atmosphere blow up. This is the stupidest part of a very stupid movie. Stars emits radiation – gamma rays and what not – Naturally occurring uranium emits radiation. By all rights even supposing that psychlo’s home planet had such a thing, their atmosphere would have caught fire about 11 seconds after their sun’s light hit it.

On we go – Johnny and his gang go into the mountains but they are not going to mine the gold they and some other helpers recruited in the toing and frowing earlier are only going to pretend to mine the gold – they are going to a) go to fort Knox to get the gold there –and b) get a nuclear bomb – which they will explode after they transport it to the Psychlo’s home planet (using a star trek like transporter). Trel is easily fooled even though he has them under constanr surveillance –so who the hell else did these people conquer the Vogons?

Johnny finds Fort Knox and the Gold intact – then finds a bomb and then finds 1,000 year old Hawker Harriers – which the cave men manage to figure out how to fly in a week – and I begin to wonder if not only knowing nothing about science is required to do science fiction, but you can’t know a damn thing about anything – like how volatile jet fuel is and how likely 1,000 year old jets could fly and 1,000 year old M-16’s could shoot.

The gold – in bars – mind you. Fools Jon – Jesus even the Vogons would wipe the floor with these clowns – how about a race of intelligent beings evolved from Tennessee fainting goats – The Psychlos might have a fighting chance with them. Maybe.

After much shooting very expensive (but not good. Lord not good) CGI effects the Alien’s are defeated, their home world blown up – again even assuming for an instant that their atmosphere could be set on fire – how the hell is that going to damage the core? Sweet mother of babbling god was everybody involved with this film an idiot? Looks lake it.

At the end Jon in imprisoned in a cage in Fort Knox amidst billions of dollars in gold – why? Because he had the movie made so he can’t die even if he is the bad guy. I suppose it was supposed to ironic but as they pulled away I wondered where’s his port-o-potty? This film makes you think things like that. And that is why I hate it so. That I wasted a second thinking about an alien’s port-o-potty.

Peace Love Shonen Knife – we’ll be at the Martz tonight singing.

Please leave comments – even a “god you suck’ would mean I’m making contact somehow.

Again next gig is at 12/8 at Otto’s tell your friends. If you don’t have friends, use the power of the internet and make some and then tell them.

Grey Day

And another gray day – well it’s November and its like this in this city. Who the heck knows I could be suffering from SADs or some such like nonsense – my life situation isn’t objectively worse than it was last week but this week everything feels like heaviness – weary stale flat and unprofitable to quote Hamlet – Side Note – People don’t quote Shakespeare so much these days. I guess Shakespeare is too hard to cram into those standardized tests that seem all the rage in education these days. Hell even the old Hunchback Richard the Third is a bit too subtle and multi layered for a number two pencil and multiple choice tests (not that I mind multiple choice tests – always did well on them – essays not so much – my hand writing stinks and there that’s dyslexia bit – combine the two nightmare city). Anyway back to Richard – as the play makes clear that the one person Richard hates and loathes above all others is Richard – in his opening speech his disgust at his physical form is palatable “deformed, unfinished, sent into this breathing world scare half made up, and that so lame and unfashionable that dogs bark at me as I halt by them.”

That’s not a well guy. And his self loathing drives him to commit crime after crime in the subconscious hope that somebody will finally put him out of his misery. I think they’d give him a lot of drugs these days:

Richard: And that so lame and un…wooo, that has a jolt doesn’t it? What was I talking about? Yes. That. You know I think I’ll just stare at my shoe for a while.
Doctor: Good, well nurse that’ll keep him down for a few hours.

Anyway suffice to say my mood is down.

Politics wise I think there is going to be a split in the Democratic party between the people who actually want to clean out the open sewer that Congress and Washington has become and some of the inside the beltway democrats (especially in the Senate) who view this as simply their turn at the K Street feed bag.

Dem 1: you think I put up with the nonsense that the ape and bug man for nothing?
Dem 2: how about serving the public interest?
Dem 1: Public service? What kind of a f**king rube are you. Hookers! I want Hookers and cash – stacks and stacks of sweet sweet cash from the drug companies and the oil companies, oh sweet cash I love you. Even more that Hookers. And I want lobbyists to pick up by lunch tabs every day. And breakfast!
Dem 2: Fine we needed to drag a democrat into the hearing to prove this wasn’t just a witch hunt. I think you’ll do nicely. Enjoy the probe.

At least that’s’ what I hope the conversation turns out. Still huge stacks of cash are quite the temptation.

Random Neural Firings:

Listening to Frank Zappa – his guitar stuff. I do that when I’m like this. There is something in the icy fury of his playing that matches my mood.

It seems to be “hi be my friend I’m a busty female college student with a web cam” week at my space. Sheesh it’s not like net doesn’t have women in various states of undress already – I can find them fine kids leave me be.

Meantime tomorrow we’re off to Waltz or Martz or whatever the hell they call that coffee shop to do the killer sheep song and then start pumping up the 12/8 gig and get other gigs and then hell it’ll be the holiday season which always gets me even more depressed and cynical about humanity in general than I am normally.

Still putting stuff in boxes – I have measured out my life in files to twist T.S. Elliot about until he screams with pain.

Oh sweet heaven enough – I’m going home – get some Japanese take out and then watch Battlefield Earth, cause no matter what I do with my life – there is no way I’m going screw it up as badly as John did with this film. Or if net flix is being nice again – Aeon Flux.

Peace Love Shonen knife.

Killer Sheep, Bad Craziness and Mercury's In Retrograde

Tired and depressed this morning – A gray November day might be part of it, not cold but there was a damp chill in the air and the sky was a dull soulless gray and the trees, with their leaves falling more rapidly looked stark and bare and twisted against the sky. Maybe that’s why I feel like this. Maybe it was I didn’t get much sleep, maybe, as a friend said, Mercury’s in retrograde ( Per Astrology this means things don’t work out – communications get bogged mixed up) and that’s the reason (Mercury’s retrograde movement ends Friday so we’ll see if that’s the case)…nothing seems to be working right.

Maybe - there’s got to be some reason yes? Or not.

Last night at O’Hanlon’s was grim – how grim? There was nobody there – two people counting the bartender when I got there. Later the Enemy Below and the Insect Girl arrived.

“Well this sucks” the Enemy Below said.

I nodded. We still had not had the world premiere of the killer sheep song – which is forming the basis of the Killer Sheep/Giant Robot/Alien Attack musical (I’d be willing to bet money there aren’t going to be a lot of Google hits for that word string. “Killer Sheep/Giant Robot/Alien Attack Musical”

At this point the bartender (not the regular at O’Hanlon’s) mentioned that there was another open mike going on in Astoria. We all looked at each other and thought so that’s where the other people are.

We waited a little longer and then decided that we’d can this open mike – and hit the other one – we wanted to do the new song damnit - ah if we had only known. One brave soul did come but she, showing great wisdom as it turned out, decided not to join us at the other open mike.

The Other Open mike (or OOM) was in an Irish pub looking place – it has dark wood partitions and sort of the faux old country look that Irish pubs are supposed to have. It had a small area off for performers and the guy was setting up the speakers and the like when we came in. The crowd seemed a pretty typical Irish pub crowd; some of them were actually Irish judging by the accents.

Meantime what we didn’t know was it was this guy’s birthday that night. And his friends decided to celebrate by getting him blind insane drunk. To the point he couldn’t really talk or walk very well, and he had lost all impulse control.

As had his friends. We bought beers signed up and then were appalled by the actions of Birthday Boy (hereafter BB) who kept wandering about – and singing into the other microphones as the guy running the open mike was setting up. He wasn’t signing so much as making weird growling type mouth noises with the occasional f##k you and C**t – which somehow he managed to pronounce perfectly – still can you mispronounce F##k? even with as much booze as he had been pouring down his neck? It also didn’t help that he was almost stereotypical chinless jugged ugly in a British Isles kind of way.

So as we waited, I was getting more uncomfortable – my nerve endings were singing danger danger Will Robinson. One of the Birthday group laid his head on the bar and fell asleep – a man and woman were far gone in a mutual group grope (neither party was that attractive so there wasn’t even token voyeur interest. And BB would wander up to the mike and try to sing along with Roy Orbersion song on the juke box – it came out kinda ‘grawwekla raaaawww yoooo be graallllwlinkkkk fucker’s ovvvvvvvvvvvverrrrrrrrrrrrrrr geaokkkkkkk” and so on.

And then the corner joined in and applauded BB’s little scene. Bad craziness all about. Then – after the guy running the OOM had sung a few songs – while BB came up and growled into the mike on one (I really kept expecting him to fall down every time he stood up or pass our like his friend at the bar – but I’ll give him marks for stamina – he managed to keep from passing out, falling or throwing up while we were there – which was about an hour and ½ but seemed sooo much longer. ) it was our turn to go. We played No promotion, our new song – to no real reaction and then someone else – that the BB liked. It wasn’t our finest performance by a long shot – but it was good to finally sing the killer sheep song in public.

Our trauma did not end there – he was relatively restrained when we were playing – except for the one time he stood right in front of me and I blurted out “I can not work under these conditions.’ and I made a crack about a drunk in Someone else which everybody missed.

It was when the insect girl was going to play that it almost got very ugly – BB was sprawled on the stage near Insect Girl’s feet – she was ‘get him outta here.” And I added “get him off the stage.” To the poor sap running this thing. The BB took offense and for a second it looked like he was going to try and pick a fight with me (what the hell is it about drinking that brings out the belligerence in people? It was ugly to look in the eye) which would have been the first fight I’d had since I was a kid – but I figured a) he was drunk enough that there wasn’t much to worry about and b) I remembered enough of my martial arts training to understand I didn’t need to afraid of him (maybe all of his friends) and there wasn’t any thing her worth fighting for. Still had he made a move towards the insect girl between the enemy below and myself – he’d still be looking for his teeth.

Anyway the insect girl sang (very well I have to say) and with the ADD that drinking too much brings (look shiny things!) BB forgot about getting into a fight – which I figured would happen. I sure he wasn’t a bad guy in his jug eared chinless way but he was just too drunk to be in public. And honestly one of his buds should have taken him home.

Once we finished we piled out of there with the plea of the poor schmuck running the open mike saying “it’s not like this all the time.’

Well maybe not but we’re not going back anyway.
Mercury’s in retrograde – has to be the reason.

Anyway not learning we are going to Martz-Astoria Wednesday for their open mike and serenade the easily shockable crowd there with Stacy and the killer sheep song.

I love being able to write words ‘killer sheep song’ if nothing else we’ve manged to something – lots of bands have love songs how many have a song about brain eating and one about killer sheep? Not a lot I’d bet. Not a lot.

RAMONES

Trying not to be too political but I have to note that W’s first act under the new bi-partisanship was to try and ram John (I am the Walrus) Bolton’s nomination to the UN through the Senate during this lame duck session (i.e. before the new congress is sworn in). Does not bode well for the future I think.

Okay – this is a band blog – I should write a bit about music yes?

Well okay – It is safe to say before the Ramones I had nothing. That’s only a bit of a hyperbole. I was just an outsider, marching to a different drum in a long island suburban town where conformity was the rule (yeah I know like lot of others). Didn’t. Fit in. Ever.

I was in college at the time, and I was having trouble. My low grade dyslexia made papers a nightmare for me – rather than be humiliated I would just not do the damn papers – which meant I would fail or barely pass the classes. It was driving me crazy I wanted to write, I could write but I couldn’t spell – or I’d miss words in the middle of sentence or sentences in the middle of a paragraph. It was maddening and humiliating at the same time.

I didn’t know it was, for the want of a better phrase, dyslexia, until a long time after that. I kept thinking there had to be something wrong else with me. Hell that’s what I heard in grammar school and high school. My parents were told a lot; “he’s obviously bright but he just doesn’t apply himself’ – Apply myself, what a laugh. I would try and try until I thought my head would explode but nothing worked. The word lazy began to be tossed about.

I had hoped that college in being away from high school and all the failures there would change things – it didn’t. I was still me. By then I had absorbed the “lazy failure” judgment and made it my own. I figured why bother to try after a while.

And of course this lousy sense of self esteem (the gift that keeps on giving) left me no confidence were women were concerned. I was told that a lot of women where giving me “I’m interested signals” but I was so sunk into me that I didn’t notice. My thinking was always “why the hell would she be into a loser like me?”

Which brings us to 1978 – I heard on the radio, once and once only, the Ramones single “Rockaway Beach” it was loud, it was catchy it was different. And it was about a place I knew which I thought was cool. My uncle had a house on Beach 130th Street in Rockaway and we spent a lot of our summers there.

So I bought the record. I didn’t know much about the band or the Punk thing. It was regarded as dangerous. Back then the DIY network was just getting started and there wasn’t anything like the internet.

So I took it home, placed it on the turntable and dropped the needle in. The first song was Cretin hop by the time – the record finished side one (“we’re a happy family”), I knew, this was my music and these were my people. All the frustrations, longing, anger, loss, sick humor, and yes rage at a world were there didn’t seem to be a place for me came out in that blessed blessed noise – I knew who these guys were, 4 skinny ugly kids from queens (Johnny, Joey, Tommy, Dee, Dee) with nothing but the urge to say “I got nothing and that’s not right” Elsewhere the vibe was good times, grateful dead music and dope. Or good times, Disco and Quaaludes. But not for me, not after that. Suddenly I had something, this thing called Punk. I laughed at the hostility it got from others, like I cared. It wasn’t like I’d been mister popular before anyway. This was a way out; a lifeline had been handed to me. There was a bigger world that white bread conformity in suburbia.

My world had shifted. I had liked music before this, now it became my world. And when I got Leave Home and heard Pinhead. Well.

‘Gabba Gabba we accept you, we accept you, one of us, Gabba, Gabba we accept you, we accept you one of us.”

It almost made me cry as stupid as that sounds. Lifted me right out of me it did. I never really accepted myself as just myself and suddenly there was this sense of myself and that I didn’t have to accept anybody’s definition of me – that it was up to me. Yeah I was a screw up and failure and jerk, lazy and even doomed but damnit I’m going to be doing the defining from now on. Heavy lifting for a 3 minute song but there you go.

I found the rest of the punks (Clash, Sex Pistols et al) after that, and the beats, Jack Kerouac, William Boroughs and bob Dylan and Mott the Hoople and Ian Hunter and Rocks roots in the Blues and the Haunted and doomed Robert Johnson, and Howlin’ wolf and the icy sarcasm and fury of Frank Zappa, the outrage of Hunter Thompson and lord oh so many others.

It’s not been a easy ride and I’ve had more than my share of failures as I’ve gone along but they are the ones that gave me that initial cattle prod poke to the fore brain.

I am forever grateful.

One two three four.

THE DAY AFTER THE DAY AFTER

We’re moving – I’m taking files out of steel boxes (filing cabinets) putting them into cardboard boxes which will then be taken to another floor – where I will take said files out of the cardboard boxes and put them steel boxes. Somebody remind me again exactly why I went to college – it wasn’t to learn how to do this I can tell you. My hands hurt, my back hurts and I’m tired and cranky.

Still it’s got to be better than being in the White House these days.

Aide: Here you go. (Drops blue bag on desk – bag makes clanking sounds).
Clerk: what the hell is this?
Aide: What the hell does it look like? It’s a bag of empty beer cans – get rid of it before someone sees it.
Clerk: yes sir. (Looks in bag) Schlitz? Schlitz?
Aide: Yes it’s Schlitz and get a janitor up here.
Aide turns and walks down the hall to the door to the oval office. He sighs, rolls his eyes up to heaven then he knocks on the door.
Aide: Sir?
There is no answer.
Aide: Sir? (Knocks again0
W: (From inside) Go away! No like! Hate all! You take Donald from me!
Aide: Sir I understand you’re upset. But it had to be done, you see…
W: Donald love me more than daddy do. .
Aide (to himself) oh sweet mother of Jesus not this again, (To W -) Sir the American people...
W: Hate American people. They wrong. Donald right. Hate. Hope they die.
Aide: Sir don’t make me call your mother.
Long silence.
Aide: Are you going to behave now?
W: (very slowly) Yes.
Aide; Very good – now the new speaker of the House will be coming to meet you later – If you even think of flinging something unpleasant at her there will be no boom boom tape for two weeks. Understand, two weeks no boom boom.
W: (very slowly) Understand.
Adie walks down hall. When he gets to clerks desk he stops to rub his eyes.
Clerk: Sir?
Aide: nothing, I have just a bitch of a headache, could you get me a large glass of scotch and some aspirin? I have to see about Carl.
Clerk: Where is Carl? It’s been days.
Aide: He’s in the pit.
Clerk: With?
Aide: Babs.
Clerk: Oh my god.
Aide: Not to worry Gary’s there to make sure she doesn’t kill him.

Ah horrible horrible fantasies – violence and stupidity, it all comes so easily to me. Why not happy ones of love, friendship, fulfillment and success and making love to beautiful women? I don’t know, seems to be how I’m wired. Not only is the glass half empty, but the water is evaporating in the sun.

The killer sheep musical is still whirling in my head – as best I can tell now (I'm not in compete control of the process) – the denouncement of the play will be the revelation that the Killer sheep and the robots are the result of the same Person – who is trapped in the bar with the rest of the patrons.

“Why sheep?”
“It’s what I had to work with.”
"And why two legs?"
"So they could to hold weapons."
“And the robots?”
“I was trying to do something about the sheep okay? Yes they were a mistake but give me a break I was trying.”
“And the Aliens?”
“What aliens?”

And so good night.
Coming up thoughts on the Ramones.

Election aftermath & Mesa of Lost Women

Stayed up way too late watching the election results come in over the net so I’m just about shagged. Our department will be moving next Friday – which kinda stinks I was going to take that next Monday and Tuesday off which I won’t be able to do since I’ll have to be emptying boxes.

How bad was it for the GOP? Well the New York Post’s lead story was “Brittany Spears Files for Divorce” this is, I think her second marriage, which means a third is looming in her future. And this is Gay Marriages fault? Exactly how?

Well with my brain beaten by fatigue and having had to tote boxes about – today is the perfect day to write about Mesa of Lost Women.

And dear lord what a bad movie. So cosmically bad in fact that it, that rumors persist that this film was actually written/directed by Ed Wood. That does not seem to be true but Lyle Talbot who had roles in Glen or Glenda, provides the overheated narration, Ed’s ex girlfriend Delores Fuller has a bit part. And still the bad movie royalty does not end there, George Barrow who plays a guy named George in this film, played the legendary (as in utterly absurd and awful at the same time) Ro-man (the gorilla wearing space helmet) in Robot Monster, another strong contender for worst film ever made.

Mesa is a hard film to write about because it is a prime example of what I have come to call ‘The Theater of the Incoherent” in these films formal narrative structure is largely jettisoned in favor of making the audience go what the hell? Who is that? What’s going on here?

The film opens with the narrator ranting about the insignificant of man compared to bugs –while two people wander in the Mexican desert. They are rescued and begin to recount their amazing story but the film pulls away from them to focus on the driver of the jeep that rescued the pair. He is a stereotypical Hollywood Mexican and the narrator says “you know something about this don’t you Pepe?”

And suddenly we are driving in the desert again to a mesa where a Professor is to meet a Dr. Arana (Spanish for spider) who lives on a mesa. . No I don’t know whose flashback this is, it isn’t Pepe’s, it isn’t the man or woman it’s just a flashback. God’s maybe. The Professor meets Doctor Arana (played by Jackie Coogan – of the Kid with Charlie Chaplin and Uncle Fester in the Addams family TV series – his parents spent all the money he’d made as a child actor and he was reduced to playing garbage like this to make ends meet – until the Addams Family show after he did a lot of TV – not quite a happy ending but better than he could have thought as he was doing this piece of trash).
Arana wants the professor to help him in his work in injecting human hormones into giant spiders – the professor revolts saying it’s madness a crime against nature. What he doesn’t say is that it’s just mind bogglingly stupid. It’s as dumb as putting an artificial heart into a comatose fifty foot ape (see King Kong Lives). Nobody in real life would do anything like this. (A topic I’m hoping to explore in my killer sheep bit). Then Dr. Spider (Arana’s too hard to spell) shows of Taratella – the spider woman, she looks a bit like Jane Russell and is supposed to be part spider part women. At this the Professor goes mad (as does the viewer what the hell does anything going on here have to do with anything) and there is a giant spider hiding behind a blind for some reason.

We are shown a paper saying the Professor has been rescued from the desert but is now confined to a mental institution. It’s tempting three meals a day and drugs and treatment to wipe the memory of this horrible film from your mind, not a bad deal really.

So we end up in a cantina – somewhere.

This is a good time to bring up the music. The entire score consists of a badly strummed flamenco guitar theme, followed by a piano that sounds like some one dropped a couple of bricks on the keyboard and recorded the sound. The theme plays over and over and over and over and over and over (Stop stop! I did it, I killed her and threw her from the train!) and over and over (Really, and I double parked once!) and over throughout the film - no attempt at all is made to match the action (such as it is) on the screen.

So in the Cantina walks the female lead and the rich cad she is going to marry or would have had the plane not broken down. The Male lead is the pilot. The Cad also has an Asian Servant who spouts Charlie Chan like gibberish. (Inept and uses racist stereotypes, thank you movie.)

And then the professor (now mad) shows up and George his nurse. Then they watch Trantella the spider woman (okay what the hell was she doing here – we left her back at the mesa) doing some kind of movement that I assume is the spider dance. Her expression and movement say “I got this part because I am sleeping with the producer’ cause baby she can’t dance a lick.

The mad professor shoots her. And then they all head out to the airport. They fly away. As they fly away the spider lady gets up off the floor and walks away. The music continues.

The plane ends up off course and has engine trouble and crashes on a mesa. (Guess which one) and while the folks try to figure out what to do, they are spied on by women and dwarfs. Per Dr. Spider that’s because in spiders the males are puny little things. Whatever. There are a lot of shots of dwarves and women hiding and the music continues.

As the night passes the group gets picked off one by one, first George is killed by a giant spider puppet. (Never say I’m going to take a look around – you don’t last more than 10 minutes after that) then there is scene where they all go looking for George holding hands on a dark sound stage. It does nothing but kill time and is one of the dumbest things I’ve ever seen. And, oh yes the music goes on.

Then the Servant is killed. He seems to have been in cahoots with Dr. Spider but we’re not sure how. Hell we’re not sure of our own names by this time in the film.


And the music continues.

Later the rich cad has a melt down and is eaten by the giant spider puppet leaving only the male and female leads (who have fallen for each other but that’s what male and female leads do) and the mad professor. At this point the women and dwarves rush them. Prior to this film I’d never ever seen a scene where the heroes are rushed by women and dwarves. I’m sorry I saw this one.

More of the same music.

They are brought before Dr. Spider. Who reveals is was all a plot to get the Professor back so he could help with the stupid experiments Dr. Spider is doing. Exactly how he did this isn’t really explained. Why should it be? Nothing else in the film is.

The Professor restored to sanity blows up Dr. Spider and the Spider woman who after recovering from the gun shot wound apparently ran faster than an airplane to get to the mesa. (it doesn’t matter, nothing matters, life is just a sick joke played on all of us by a demented god who tortures us for his own pleasure – sorry this movie got to me) the male and female leads escape.

And the music continues as the credits roll and I long for the blissful release of death.

That was one bad film.
Blogger doesn't want you to see the dvd cover. maybe later.

It's Election Day

Vote early, vote often. – This message brought to you by the Cook County Democratic party.

I am really really hoping for a Democratic take over of at least the House, because one, I am tired of watching Congress roll over for the whims of a petulant incurious man child with a taste for killing by long distance and a gang of half wit thugs that passes for his cabinet. And two, even if every democratic candidate is an avowed gay Satanist, how much worse could they possibly be? It’s not so much the greed and evil that is driving this crew, it’s the absolute utter incompetence that just kills me.

The vice president has gone ‘hunting’ with his daughter Mary. This seems to be first time since he shot that guy in the face. Mary watch your back (and face). Side Note: I am presuming that this is another canned hunt – where cage raised damn near tame birds are dropped into an open field for rich nitwits with guns to shoot. These are important men, they can’t waste their time learning how to stalk a wild ring neck pheasant (a tough go I understand) Really, it has as much relationship to real hunting (which I don’t get but at least there is some challenge there and you have to understand the animal you are hunting on some level to get close enough for a shot) as date rape has to dating. The Kaiser of Germany before World War 1 used to have herds of Elk driven past his blind by beaters so he could shoot them. Canned hunts remind me of that. It’s not hunting, it’s killing. So maybe Cheney’s just working off his frustrations.

VP: Bastard Press (Bang!)
Aide: Good shot sir
VP: Bastard Monkey boy (Bang!)
Aide: Again good shot.
VP: Bastard Democrats (Bang!)
Aide: Excellent again.
VP: Bastard Voters (Bang!)
Aide: I don’t know how you do it sir.
VP: Bastard Gays (Bang!)
Aide: Ah- ixnay on the aysgay sir
VP: What? (Bang!) Oh yes. Did she hear?
Aide: Not with the shooting no.
VP: Good, be a shame to have put her someplace - Bastard Human beings. (Bang!)

And so on.

I’m hoping for a Democratic house because I want to know where all the no-bid money went and I want the next sex scandal to involve women. Just to leaven the mass a bit.

Will be making pasta with Garlic and oil and watching Mesa of Lost women to refresh my memories of it. As bad as it is, it’ll be less painful than watching coverage of the election.

No time for more – busy days here at the job -Peace out.

got the cassette from http://www.says-it.com/ lots of stuff to play with there.

CRAMPS

My stomach isn’t doing too well this day so it seems only fitting I write about the Cramps.

Ah the Cramps – formed in the late 70’s as part of the first punk wave – the band is Lux Interior on lead vocals and Poison Ivy on Guitar – with a rotating cast on bass or second guitar, or drums (currently Sean Ysuelt late of White Zombie and Famous Monsters is on bass – makes me even more ticked I missed their show in September – ah well). And they are still at it as of 2006.

The Cramps are counted as one of the originators of ‘psycobilly’ – simply 12 bar songs – done al la Sun Studio sound with frankly bizarre lyrical subjects – sleazy sex and fetishes B movie exploitation films and monster movies. (Gee I wonder why I find them a source of inspiration?) – While they deny the term accurately describes their minimalist sound it does, to me, come pretty damn close.

Their albums range from good to fair/poor the balance between shocking and shtick is hard to maintain – and due to the bewildering number of labels they have recorded on I don’t expect we are going to see a box set or a “greatest of” CD from the band. Which is a shame – when they are on, there is nobody but nobody who can do the madness they can do. Any band that does songs with lines like ‘I cut your head off and put it in the TV set’ or songs with titles like “Bikini Girls with machine Guns” and “Dames Booze Chains and Boots” needs to be loved and cherished like the rare jewel they are.

Random Neural firings:

Not a long blog today – we’re moving and we have to purge files – how dare work get in the way of doing Blogging. An outrage I say, an outrage!

Made progress on the Killer Sheep song this weekend thanks to the enemy below and The Insect Girl (who tightened the lyrics up considerably - again thanks). I have to think, while there have been other songs on braineating I suspect this may be the first song about Killer Sheep (bipedal killer sheep to be exact) in the history of western Music. That’s a good, if weird, feeling.

And it’s got to be the silliest thing we’ve done yet.

Kicking around stringing together some of our songs in a musical format – the idea is that these people are trapped in a bar by the rampaging killer sheep, and as time passes they tell the others about themselves in song form – so far The sheep song, Ode to a Glock, the Lottery song and one I’m kicking about called Robots took my man – a blues number for a female singer (if we do this we’ll need at least on of them) and Someone Else and just maybe Insect Heads.

It might work or it might be the stupidest musical in the history of the American Stage. Well you do need goals.

Later all.

Memories of Bolero

I saw this in the theater when it came out 1984 - I was between full time jobs then, working part time here and there – even doing telephone sales. Anyway I had some time to kill and bit of extra money and I’d read how horrible this film was so I went to go see it (like a total idiot – I mean what kind of moron goes to see films because he’d heard how bad they were? I ask you.) It was an after noon showing – beside me there were 8 people in the theater. Six Japanese Businessmen sat all in a row in the middle of the theater, and two other guys in the back and me off in the corner. Total of nine.

Side note: I’ve been told that in Japan having a blonde female assistant/secretary is a sign of high status – like you’re the head of Sony or something. I can’t vouch for the truth of that but there were those six Japanese businessmen (all in very similar looking suits) sitting there waiting for Bo drop trou.

Bolero stared Bo Derek and was directed by the creepy John Derek. Bo was John’s 3rd and last wife, after Ursula Andress and Linda Evans. John had ditched Ursula for the younger Linda Evans and then ditched her for Derek. What’s even creepier is they all looked a hell of a lot alike – Blonde, tall, sharp features huge rack. It was like he got a new model when the current one got too old – and then, with Evans and Derek had them have surgery too look more like his ideal. Like I said it’s creepy. There is something deeply disturbing about it, in almost Freudian sense but I’m not going there – I’ve had enough damage to my soul with the GOP gay scandals these last few weeks to even speculate what issues John had to act the way he did – I’d have to wash my brain with bleach again if I did.

Anyway the movie’s purpose (as was Tarzan the Ape Man Bo’s Horrible 1981 movie) was to show off Bo Derek’s body. Which was a good plan cause merciful heavens she couldn’t act a lick, I mean not at all. And she couldn’t move real well either. Whereas say Dina Rigg or Audrey Hepburn always moved with grace and elegance, you worried that Bo was going walk into something.

Wack
“Cut – okay honey try it again”
“But it hurts”
“Buck up honey, it’ll be lunch soon.” Pause “Okay someone help her up”
“It hurts”
“Okay okay – bill cut the tree down”
“Ah sir we can’t do that,”
“She’s walked into it three times already; we’re running out of light here.”
“I’ll see what we can do.”
”Okay”

The story, such as it is, is set in the 1920s, Ms. Derek, a virgin, has recently graduated from a fine women’s college and is now in pursuit of sexual ecstasy – which she insists is spelled with an x i.e., “extasy”

No I’m not kidding - it’s part of the relentless parade of the big stupid that is this movie.
After much tedious tooing and frowing with no reason other than to get Bo naked and in one case covered with honey (it’s not worth bothering about it trust me – Bo, when she moves or talks effortlessly shatters whatever erotic tension that is there. I suspect the director of 10 used that on purpose to great effect in that movie – the turning point of that movie is when Bo starts talking to Dudley and all his illusions are shattered -) Bo discovers the love of her life, a Bolero – who’s job it is to ride a horse during a bull fight and stick spears in the neck of a bull. (Even in 84 real bullfighting was cringe inducing – so for the movie the bull had a cork target on his back that the Bolero tossed his spears into). So she and the Bolero go and make with the humpty hump – and Bo’s friend makes with the humpty hump with a Scotsman who wasn’t wearing a stitch under his kilt – I don’t much find full screen shots o’ male buttocks that interesting – but none of this movie was interesting. And even George Kennedy – who should be ashamed he was in this piece of garbage makes with the humpty hump with a lady closer to his age – we don’t see George drop trou – thank the lord for small favors - they would have found me huddled in a ball whimpering if that had happened.

So it looks like everything is going to be just wonderful but then – plot point to set up the last 3rd of the picture – the Bolero gets stabbed by a bull in the worst possible place and Mr. Happy doesn’t work any more - so no more humpty hump for Bo. Bo is sad. We were sad too cause this meant the movie was going to go on and on and on and on. After a long time where Bo is sad - the wound heals but Mr. Happy does not want to come out and play – so Bo decides to try and shall we say encourage Mr. Happy.

It’s the early morning – the Bolero comes into the bull ring – In the bull ring is Bo on a horse, gaucho hat on her head, wearing a poncho – she rides the horse a bit, the flips the poncho off and tosses it to the Bolero and rides a bit more bare assed bareback (cure heavy romantic soft core porn music) – then she pulls up to the bolero. He looks at her, looks at the horse, hands her the poncho, then sadly walks away.

“You’re a hard man to seduce.” She says.

Only if you heard this can you know the true utter insipid cosmic vapidity with which she delivered this line. Once watching this film with my brother (who didn’t believe just how bad it was) we got this point, and he fell off the couch he was laughing so hard

“Put it back! Put it back! I have to hear that again!” he said and then dissolved into helpless laughter – we watched it about three more times and then went on to the climax.

In the end – Mr. Happy is back and the Bolero and Bo once again make with the humpy hump Bo claps when it happens - I am not making that up either. (not even the sex scenes are arousing in this heap – there is no chemistry between the two stars – the Bolero could have been screwing a robot for all the life in Bo’s responses - except for the applause which was just weird) So they are making with the humpty hump and as they do the room starts to fill up with what looks like steam.

Back in the theater I remember thinking – what the? When this happened. I had resisted the urge to walk out – by god I was going to stay until the damn end of this film even if it killed me – and it was coming close – when the steam thing started. I was started out of my bad movie torpor by it to pay close attention.

The steam continues to fill the room until it becomes clear that the couple are now floating on a cloud and behind them, I assume on an adjoining cloud, is a neon sign flashing on and off spelling out the word ecstasy with an x – "extasy".

I am not making that up – it was why showed my brother the film – I wish to god I was making it up. Go get it from Net flix if you have any doubts just don’t blame me for the damage it causes you.

So there are Bo and the Bolero, having sex on this cloud with the neon sign behind them flashing on and off. And I’m sitting in the theater thinking “This is it .No doubt about it. This is the STUPIDEST thing I have ever seen.”

The cloud parts they finish with the humpty hump and the credits rolled. But to this day, with all the horrible films I have seen since, nothing, nothing has ever come close to the cosmic uber stupid that was the cloud scene with the flashing neon light in bolero, not Manos, not Plan 9, not Matingo, The Fungus of Terror, not From Hell it Came, not Mesa of the Lost Women, not Battlefield Earth - nothing. It is a giant black hole of stupid about which all the other stupid revolves like the dark heart of the Milky Way Galaxy. Even thinking about this makes my brain start to whimper and scratch at the back of my skull looking for a way out.

Next on Tap – Mesa of Lost Women - and junk about the Cramps (this is a band blog yes? Writing about music from time to time would help yes?)

Also as of today I will be cross posting this in the Bob Muir and the Enemy Below space on My space as well. So if Blogger is out (as it can be from time to time) you can look at it there.

Peace Love Shonen Knife.

Again with the sex

The news has yet another scandal involving a conservative GOP stalwart and gay sex, this time a minister with a male hooker, with said minister using crystal meth as well.

It’s a mark of how sick the times are that I find myself longing for the good old days when the worst thing a preacher could do was to have an affair with the pretty young female organist – lord in heaven is every damned right winger who screams about the menace of gay marriage a massive closet case?

Probably. The psychological phenomenon of projection tells us it’s likely to be the case. That each time they rail about the evils of homosexuality and gay sex they are being tortured by the thought of firm buttocks and pert thighs (I’m not sure how a thigh can be pert but there you go). And it’s gay men they rant about. . I gather they are okay with lesbian sex as long as a) they are both hot babes and b) someone is around to videotape it for later viewing.

Speaking of women, I notice there are panicked mumblings from the net about the coming election and Nancy Pelosi becoming speaker of the house – Dennis Miller who after failing as a comedian, a sports announcer, talk show host and right wing apologist recently resurfaced on TV (on fox what a surprise) and spouted gibberish about how bad Nancy as speaker of the house would be. The major reason for Miller’s concern seemed to be that Nancy is a woman. I mean heaven fortend! Never in the history of the world has a women in a position of power been able to handle the job, the exceptions such as oh, Catharine the Great of Russia and Elizabeth the First were obviously cross dressing men and not women. Women, per these clowns are only good for making male babies – and dinner when the men get home from banging their rent boys.

I fail to understand their panic about women. Women are people yes? It’s not like they are some kind of alien spices with some kind of ovum depositor they are going to ram down your throat and lay their eggs in your chest. Then I could understand this distrust and it would make Ladies night a thing of terror

“Hey baby, can I buy you a drink?”
SNOORRRLK ! (Okay you come up with a sound effect for an ovum depositor being rammed down a person’s throat)
“GGGGGGGGGGGGG” falls to the floor and twitches as the woman walks away.
“Dude I warned you about her didn’t I?”
“GGGGGGGG”
“Now her eggs are going to hatch in about oh three four weeks.’
“GGGGGGGG”
“And burst your chest wall from the inside, it’s nasty when it happens.”
“GGGGGGGG”
“Still it’s not all bad, you won’t have to sweat the student loan payments, like what can they do to you? You’ll have your chest burst open from the inside by Aliens; Interest Penalties ain’t going to matter then.”
“HGGGGGGGGG”
“Want another beer?”
“GGGGGGGG”
“Well guess I’ll be going.’

Yes my imaginary world consists not of people who don’t care if you live or die, but of people who are hoping you die, just so they can have a better chance at finding a parking space next time they need one.

Anyway back to the election. I think what is happening here illustrates my old saw that people will start using their brains to think with only after they have exhausted every other option available – sometimes even twice.

Meantime, we have a gig at Otto’s for Friday December 8th at 8 pm this time so there won’t be a long wait for us to get on. Over the next few weeks we want to come up with a press kit (something I’ve never done) and start looking for other places to play.

No news on the drummer search – need to put an ad on Craig’s list soon.

The Enemy Below will be out of town this weekend so I will be assisting at the open mike Sunday – which means expect some kind of weird story on Monday.

This weekend I do plan to watch some more bad movies – Mesa of the Lost Women being the first on the list. And god is it bad. Also my memories of Bo Derek in Bolero, which was and remains, the stupidest thing I have ever seen.

Big changes are work – more details as I get them. Like you care but this is my blog.