I'll Link To That
Some welcome additions to the list o' links:
*Ace bloggers Steve Gilliard, Josh Marshall, John Canzano and The Rude Pundit.
*The always handy Skeptic's Annotated Bible.
Also for your attention are links to insightful and sobering articles by Robert Jensen, William Rivers Pitt, James Howard Kunstler and Jeffrey Goldberg.
And glory be, the new High Hat is here, the fifth issue and the first one without an article by me. As usual there is plenty of good stuff to read, including first-rate pieces by Phil Nugent and Scott Von Doviak.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Endzone
The most penetrating question of all in the Terri Schiavo saga is, if the "Save Terri" people thought God is such a miracle worker, why didn't they trust that He could save her even after Schiavo's feeding tube was removed?
The answer, I think, is that they were trying to appease God by working to give Terri more time. Cutting into her time on life support was, they believed, not supportive enough of the Creator. And they fear God's wrath if they can't feel they've done all they can to appease Him.
The irony is, in doing this they put limitations on their Awesome Omnipotent Sky King. But that's an irony beyond them, I'm afraid. Best I can tell, they are operating from fearful and self-centered desires to cover their asses in the face of the Unknown.
***
I'm a Taoist-leaning agnostic doing his best to accept the cosmic dance of dark and light. But the message of redemption in the story of Jesus' triumph over evil and death does have a strong mythological resonance for me.
As C.S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity, the Christian faith is ideally a fighting religion that creates useful distinctions between good and evil, and to me that is something very much in tune with how the human psyche, for better and worse, actually exists in the world.
In my view, humans just aren't easily and generally programmed to be accepting of "evil" as part of a universal order -- even though in cold stark reality, a Creator's acceptance of evil (or indifference to it) could well be closer to the truth than anything the Apostle Paul came up with. Hence, the psychological usefulness of belief systems that provide prudent lines in the sand between what we love and what we despise.
The sublime thing about the "Christian" ideas of redemption and resurrection-as-symbol is that they can be seen and embraced in different contexts and different cultures through time, not just among those who happened to hear the particular story of Jesus Christ.
When Christianity becomes a matter, strictly speaking, of knowing and accepting one spin on historical events, it leads to limitations and divisions. But when the underlying message of human sacrifice and reward can be received by anyone at anytime, so much the better.
I used to be tempted by "Pascal's Wager" (better safe than sorry) as a reason to become a Christian. Then I realized the fatal flaw of Pascal's Wager was that it could be turned inside out: for all we know, it could be Christians who by and large are at greater risk of a hellish afterlife.
So in the end, it is best to honor the free-thinking spirit of famous agnostic Bertrand Russell, and follow one's conscience and intellect wherever they lead -- not out of fear of the Unknown, but out of respect for it.
***
TO THE END PLUS X
Lyrics by Greg T. Hough, 1997
Famous people die in threes
Boats adrift on silent seas
Slow decay and secret eyes
Rotting flowers piling high
The rolling darkness won't be tamed
And nothing's something not contained
Your skepticism never bends
As your endgame never ends
To the end plus x
To the end plus x
Sanctify the joy of sex
When you break out of your skin
You can't lose
And you can't win
To the end plus x
To the end plus x
Watch the shuffle of the decks
You call the motion picture odd
You call the picture motion God
To the end plus x
X and zero mark the spot
Blood and Bisquick where you fought
Gilded teaching from your sage
Just a concept on a page
Imagine heaven flying high
And what is next as time goes by
Eagle circles in pursuit
Come again forbidden fruit
To the end plus x
To the end plus x
Sanctify the joy of sex
Children, children flying free
You can't hold
And you can't see
To the end plus x
To the end plus x
Watch the shuffle of the decks
Children, children living long
Sing their universal song
To the end plus x
The most penetrating question of all in the Terri Schiavo saga is, if the "Save Terri" people thought God is such a miracle worker, why didn't they trust that He could save her even after Schiavo's feeding tube was removed?
The answer, I think, is that they were trying to appease God by working to give Terri more time. Cutting into her time on life support was, they believed, not supportive enough of the Creator. And they fear God's wrath if they can't feel they've done all they can to appease Him.
The irony is, in doing this they put limitations on their Awesome Omnipotent Sky King. But that's an irony beyond them, I'm afraid. Best I can tell, they are operating from fearful and self-centered desires to cover their asses in the face of the Unknown.
***
I'm a Taoist-leaning agnostic doing his best to accept the cosmic dance of dark and light. But the message of redemption in the story of Jesus' triumph over evil and death does have a strong mythological resonance for me.
As C.S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity, the Christian faith is ideally a fighting religion that creates useful distinctions between good and evil, and to me that is something very much in tune with how the human psyche, for better and worse, actually exists in the world.
In my view, humans just aren't easily and generally programmed to be accepting of "evil" as part of a universal order -- even though in cold stark reality, a Creator's acceptance of evil (or indifference to it) could well be closer to the truth than anything the Apostle Paul came up with. Hence, the psychological usefulness of belief systems that provide prudent lines in the sand between what we love and what we despise.
The sublime thing about the "Christian" ideas of redemption and resurrection-as-symbol is that they can be seen and embraced in different contexts and different cultures through time, not just among those who happened to hear the particular story of Jesus Christ.
When Christianity becomes a matter, strictly speaking, of knowing and accepting one spin on historical events, it leads to limitations and divisions. But when the underlying message of human sacrifice and reward can be received by anyone at anytime, so much the better.
I used to be tempted by "Pascal's Wager" (better safe than sorry) as a reason to become a Christian. Then I realized the fatal flaw of Pascal's Wager was that it could be turned inside out: for all we know, it could be Christians who by and large are at greater risk of a hellish afterlife.
So in the end, it is best to honor the free-thinking spirit of famous agnostic Bertrand Russell, and follow one's conscience and intellect wherever they lead -- not out of fear of the Unknown, but out of respect for it.
***
TO THE END PLUS X
Lyrics by Greg T. Hough, 1997
Famous people die in threes
Boats adrift on silent seas
Slow decay and secret eyes
Rotting flowers piling high
The rolling darkness won't be tamed
And nothing's something not contained
Your skepticism never bends
As your endgame never ends
To the end plus x
To the end plus x
Sanctify the joy of sex
When you break out of your skin
You can't lose
And you can't win
To the end plus x
To the end plus x
Watch the shuffle of the decks
You call the motion picture odd
You call the picture motion God
To the end plus x
X and zero mark the spot
Blood and Bisquick where you fought
Gilded teaching from your sage
Just a concept on a page
Imagine heaven flying high
And what is next as time goes by
Eagle circles in pursuit
Come again forbidden fruit
To the end plus x
To the end plus x
Sanctify the joy of sex
Children, children flying free
You can't hold
And you can't see
To the end plus x
To the end plus x
Watch the shuffle of the decks
Children, children living long
Sing their universal song
To the end plus x
Whore-dinary People
The elite media whore is, in his or her own way, as fucked up in the head as the fundies who fasted for Terri.
They have been programmed by their schools and their workplaces to uphold the following three pillars of bullshit:
"Let both sides have their say (sorta) and leave it at that."
"Make sure the packaging is state-of-the-art and acceptable on a corporate level."
"I fought hard for my comfy place in the mediawhore universe, and I'm not going to let any donut-eating blogger geek from San Jose steal my thunder."
There is little or no hope left for these fools. The only hope for us, is that the liberal (and perhaps responsible conservative) media alternatives continue to grow and improve.
***
Here's an idea for someone who wants to write a Great American Novel: portray an idealistic young J-school student who works up the ladder and devolves into media whoredom, pointing out the routines and contacts and sellouts along the way that led to said whoredom. Show how the whoredom enables corruption, is corruption, to the point of social peril. Have the protagonist ultimately suffer a Gatsby-like fate...or have them be the last whore standing, while the world completely crumbles around them.
If there's a good novel like this already out there, I'd like to read it and promote it. We need easily recognizable and digestable archetypes, akin to Elmer Gantry & Jay Gatsby & Holden Caulfield, that represent the media whore in conversation and thought.
For my part, I'll seriously consider what it would take for me to write such a book. For someone who's spent decades going no further than non-fiction articles with 30-40 graphs, it would be a hell of a challenge. But I will think about it, because someone has gotta do it, and the sooner the better.
Long ago, I discussed writing a humorous fiction book based on the unusual culture mix at my high school. It was to be called "Chocolate Milk," and co-written with another grad of my high school, a man who last November became County Commissioner in Lincoln County here in Oregon. We abandoned it after a few random stories written, because we couldn't find enough focus or cohesion on the project.
The elite media whore is, in his or her own way, as fucked up in the head as the fundies who fasted for Terri.
They have been programmed by their schools and their workplaces to uphold the following three pillars of bullshit:
"Let both sides have their say (sorta) and leave it at that."
"Make sure the packaging is state-of-the-art and acceptable on a corporate level."
"I fought hard for my comfy place in the mediawhore universe, and I'm not going to let any donut-eating blogger geek from San Jose steal my thunder."
There is little or no hope left for these fools. The only hope for us, is that the liberal (and perhaps responsible conservative) media alternatives continue to grow and improve.
***
Here's an idea for someone who wants to write a Great American Novel: portray an idealistic young J-school student who works up the ladder and devolves into media whoredom, pointing out the routines and contacts and sellouts along the way that led to said whoredom. Show how the whoredom enables corruption, is corruption, to the point of social peril. Have the protagonist ultimately suffer a Gatsby-like fate...or have them be the last whore standing, while the world completely crumbles around them.
If there's a good novel like this already out there, I'd like to read it and promote it. We need easily recognizable and digestable archetypes, akin to Elmer Gantry & Jay Gatsby & Holden Caulfield, that represent the media whore in conversation and thought.
For my part, I'll seriously consider what it would take for me to write such a book. For someone who's spent decades going no further than non-fiction articles with 30-40 graphs, it would be a hell of a challenge. But I will think about it, because someone has gotta do it, and the sooner the better.
Long ago, I discussed writing a humorous fiction book based on the unusual culture mix at my high school. It was to be called "Chocolate Milk," and co-written with another grad of my high school, a man who last November became County Commissioner in Lincoln County here in Oregon. We abandoned it after a few random stories written, because we couldn't find enough focus or cohesion on the project.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Louder Than Bombs
Today's earworms: "Ask" - The Smiths, and "Rapid Roy (The Stock Car Boy)" - Jim Croce
There's never been a kind of music that suited a period in my life as well as The Smiths' did in the mid-to-late '80s. Before I could vent and bond on the internets, before I found a new family to enjoy and be responsible for; before I (finally) settled into a job situation that was reasonably sound, before I finished climbing the treacherous mountain that was college, there was a lot of pain and struggle and alienation, and somehow the dark lyrics of Morrissey and the jangly guitars of Johnny Marr were just the tonic.
"Ask" is actually one of the relatively upbeat Smiths tunes, although it does ominously warn that we've got one choice to bring us all together: either love or the bomb. In the '80s I related more to mopey Smiths songs like "Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want," "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now" and "You Just Haven't Earned It Yet, Baby." (You must suffer and cry for slightly longer.)
Fast forward to September 20, 1998. I'm married with children, and well-off enough that I can afford to bask in the sun in the Bahamas, at the Disney island "Castaway Cay" during my time on a voyage of the Disney Cruise Line.
To date, it's the farthest I've ever been from my Oregon home. And only in a media-soaked brain such as mine would the day also have significance as being exactly 25 years since Jim Croce died in a plane crash on 9-20-73.
So sue me, I dig Croce's music. He represented a certain maturity and integrity in the folk-pop style of the early '70s that was missing from most of his peers. Without his untimely death at age 30, that style of music might've been less maligned over the years than it has, and Croce wouldn't have been lumped into the same league with the Harry Chapins and John Denvers as he often has.
His was the first celebrity death to hit me hard, at age 11. Just that previous spring and summer I had started to buy 45 singles (only 69 cents a pop in those days) and Croce's "Bad Bad Leroy Brown" was one of the first ones I bought.
"Leroy" is not among the Croce songs that have aged the best for me -- it now seems an inferior sequel to the earthy braggadocio of "You Don't Mess Around With Jim." And today's earworm had never been among my favorites ("I Got A Name," "Operator" and "Lover's Cross" are among those at the top of my list), but after I picked up the Rhino compilation Jim Croce: Classic Hits at the library in order to copy the CD, "Rapid Roy" stuck out as a particularly catchy one.
Maybe it's the Chuck Berry-style riffing on the acoustic guitar, or the especially clever wordplay -- or maybe it's the fact that I once heard one of the ESPN Radio anchors refer to the song when talking about auto racing, and it stuck with me. In any case, I'm down with "Roy" being a quality archetype, a dirt track demon in a '57 Chevrolet.
Today's earworms: "Ask" - The Smiths, and "Rapid Roy (The Stock Car Boy)" - Jim Croce
There's never been a kind of music that suited a period in my life as well as The Smiths' did in the mid-to-late '80s. Before I could vent and bond on the internets, before I found a new family to enjoy and be responsible for; before I (finally) settled into a job situation that was reasonably sound, before I finished climbing the treacherous mountain that was college, there was a lot of pain and struggle and alienation, and somehow the dark lyrics of Morrissey and the jangly guitars of Johnny Marr were just the tonic.
"Ask" is actually one of the relatively upbeat Smiths tunes, although it does ominously warn that we've got one choice to bring us all together: either love or the bomb. In the '80s I related more to mopey Smiths songs like "Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want," "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now" and "You Just Haven't Earned It Yet, Baby." (You must suffer and cry for slightly longer.)
Fast forward to September 20, 1998. I'm married with children, and well-off enough that I can afford to bask in the sun in the Bahamas, at the Disney island "Castaway Cay" during my time on a voyage of the Disney Cruise Line.
To date, it's the farthest I've ever been from my Oregon home. And only in a media-soaked brain such as mine would the day also have significance as being exactly 25 years since Jim Croce died in a plane crash on 9-20-73.
So sue me, I dig Croce's music. He represented a certain maturity and integrity in the folk-pop style of the early '70s that was missing from most of his peers. Without his untimely death at age 30, that style of music might've been less maligned over the years than it has, and Croce wouldn't have been lumped into the same league with the Harry Chapins and John Denvers as he often has.
His was the first celebrity death to hit me hard, at age 11. Just that previous spring and summer I had started to buy 45 singles (only 69 cents a pop in those days) and Croce's "Bad Bad Leroy Brown" was one of the first ones I bought.
"Leroy" is not among the Croce songs that have aged the best for me -- it now seems an inferior sequel to the earthy braggadocio of "You Don't Mess Around With Jim." And today's earworm had never been among my favorites ("I Got A Name," "Operator" and "Lover's Cross" are among those at the top of my list), but after I picked up the Rhino compilation Jim Croce: Classic Hits at the library in order to copy the CD, "Rapid Roy" stuck out as a particularly catchy one.
Maybe it's the Chuck Berry-style riffing on the acoustic guitar, or the especially clever wordplay -- or maybe it's the fact that I once heard one of the ESPN Radio anchors refer to the song when talking about auto racing, and it stuck with me. In any case, I'm down with "Roy" being a quality archetype, a dirt track demon in a '57 Chevrolet.
Presently Occupied
We passed the two-year mark of this blog last week, and I'd like to take this opportunity to announce that I will be starting a new confessional blog called Damage Control, a daily diary of mental activity that tells people in my life what I really think about them.
"Just kidding," as Milk-chan would say. Even in cyberspace, there is such a thing as being too honest.
This blog will remain my primary forum, my "safe" repository for rhetoric and news, for as long as I can think up new things to say, which over the past two years has been damn hard sometimes.
We passed the two-year mark of this blog last week, and I'd like to take this opportunity to announce that I will be starting a new confessional blog called Damage Control, a daily diary of mental activity that tells people in my life what I really think about them.
"Just kidding," as Milk-chan would say. Even in cyberspace, there is such a thing as being too honest.
This blog will remain my primary forum, my "safe" repository for rhetoric and news, for as long as I can think up new things to say, which over the past two years has been damn hard sometimes.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Live And Let Die
Put me on the long list of those in Left Blogistan who request that no extraordinary measures be taken to prolong my life, should I devolve to a persistent vegetative state. Given the hideous events of the past week re: the Schiavo case, I'm planning to soon check out local law offices and legal-help websites in order to secure living wills for me, my wife and my children.
The religious/conservative zealots are asserting that as long as Terri Schiavo has any kind of life, God in his magnificent wonderfulness could always defy all science and bring her back from the brink.
That's their stand. With God, all things are possible. Let Terri die without doing everything to keep her from total flatline, and you're not giving God every chance to do His magic.
It reflects a deep resentment toward modern science's lack of need for a God figure. And it reflects a deep psychological craving to make sense out of a confusing world by resorting to vain and defensive rationalizations.
It's a textbook example of Table Talk's controversial but solid theory of modern politics: C = MI (Conservatism equals Mental Illness.)
No doubt that over the past few days, Tom DeLay and Bill Frist have been true embarrassments. Their puerile whining, shameful ignorance, blatant hypocrisy and barely cloaked opportunism are offending all but the most diehard of right-wing wackos.
It's a golden opportunity for Democrats to portray people like DeLay, Frist and Rick Santorum as showing the true ugliness of BushCo policy. But I remain skeptical about whether the numerous "battered wife" Dems in Washington DC are up to the challenge. Most of them are tip-toeing through the tulips as usual on this matter. When will they learn that it's not enough for ReThugs to hang themselves, if Dems continue to provide GOP propagandists with an effective "wimp" template?
Damn these last 25 years, damn them all to hell. America needs you, Harry Truman.
Put me on the long list of those in Left Blogistan who request that no extraordinary measures be taken to prolong my life, should I devolve to a persistent vegetative state. Given the hideous events of the past week re: the Schiavo case, I'm planning to soon check out local law offices and legal-help websites in order to secure living wills for me, my wife and my children.
The religious/conservative zealots are asserting that as long as Terri Schiavo has any kind of life, God in his magnificent wonderfulness could always defy all science and bring her back from the brink.
That's their stand. With God, all things are possible. Let Terri die without doing everything to keep her from total flatline, and you're not giving God every chance to do His magic.
It reflects a deep resentment toward modern science's lack of need for a God figure. And it reflects a deep psychological craving to make sense out of a confusing world by resorting to vain and defensive rationalizations.
It's a textbook example of Table Talk's controversial but solid theory of modern politics: C = MI (Conservatism equals Mental Illness.)
No doubt that over the past few days, Tom DeLay and Bill Frist have been true embarrassments. Their puerile whining, shameful ignorance, blatant hypocrisy and barely cloaked opportunism are offending all but the most diehard of right-wing wackos.
It's a golden opportunity for Democrats to portray people like DeLay, Frist and Rick Santorum as showing the true ugliness of BushCo policy. But I remain skeptical about whether the numerous "battered wife" Dems in Washington DC are up to the challenge. Most of them are tip-toeing through the tulips as usual on this matter. When will they learn that it's not enough for ReThugs to hang themselves, if Dems continue to provide GOP propagandists with an effective "wimp" template?
Damn these last 25 years, damn them all to hell. America needs you, Harry Truman.
Monday, March 21, 2005
Unleashing The Hounds
I'm afraid that what is often really meant by "Support Our Troops" is "unleash the eager young studs so they can conquer the infidel race on our behalf."
It's dehumanization at its most vulgar. The troops are seen as programmed killers who aren't "supported" unless they're allowed to do what they are programmed to do. And if Central Casting sends us a really juicy set of bad guys, exploiting our basest fears and prejudices, then all the more reason to allow our "attack dogs" to do the dirty work of "preserving freedom." Restraint is for pussies.
Yes, many Democrats advocate greater financial support for the "grunts" than BushCo has...but they also might put a leash on the "dogs" at some point. They might show some prudence, demonstrate some perspective, and offer some basic human decency toward brave young Americans in peril.
We can't let them tax 'n' spenders spoil all our primal, repitilian-brain fun by doing that, can we?
***
Damn I hate it when Bill Clinton's lies about his sex life are put on the same moral plane as George W. Bush's lies about going to war. Much more needless bloodshed arose from the latter, but I think I understand where the false equivalency comes from.
Unfortunately there is a deep and widespread psychological underpinning to ethical comparisons between Bush and Clinton.
The real difference between the two, is that Bush purposely stroked America's collective reptile brain with visions of manly Empire conquest against an evil infidel race, and as a result many let his transgressions slide. Clinton carelessly stoked a still-powerful repulsion toward sexual deviancy in the public arena, and therefore many continue to hold his transgressions as the epitome of corruption.
Mass mental illness was revealed in both cases, but Bush the ruthless politician wins (for now) the PR battle over Clinton by having been purposeful in his corruption rather than careless.
In short: Clinton exposing his penis = bad. Bush exposing his "penis" = good.
I'm afraid that what is often really meant by "Support Our Troops" is "unleash the eager young studs so they can conquer the infidel race on our behalf."
It's dehumanization at its most vulgar. The troops are seen as programmed killers who aren't "supported" unless they're allowed to do what they are programmed to do. And if Central Casting sends us a really juicy set of bad guys, exploiting our basest fears and prejudices, then all the more reason to allow our "attack dogs" to do the dirty work of "preserving freedom." Restraint is for pussies.
Yes, many Democrats advocate greater financial support for the "grunts" than BushCo has...but they also might put a leash on the "dogs" at some point. They might show some prudence, demonstrate some perspective, and offer some basic human decency toward brave young Americans in peril.
We can't let them tax 'n' spenders spoil all our primal, repitilian-brain fun by doing that, can we?
***
Damn I hate it when Bill Clinton's lies about his sex life are put on the same moral plane as George W. Bush's lies about going to war. Much more needless bloodshed arose from the latter, but I think I understand where the false equivalency comes from.
Unfortunately there is a deep and widespread psychological underpinning to ethical comparisons between Bush and Clinton.
The real difference between the two, is that Bush purposely stroked America's collective reptile brain with visions of manly Empire conquest against an evil infidel race, and as a result many let his transgressions slide. Clinton carelessly stoked a still-powerful repulsion toward sexual deviancy in the public arena, and therefore many continue to hold his transgressions as the epitome of corruption.
Mass mental illness was revealed in both cases, but Bush the ruthless politician wins (for now) the PR battle over Clinton by having been purposeful in his corruption rather than careless.
In short: Clinton exposing his penis = bad. Bush exposing his "penis" = good.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Medical Center
Went to the doctor for a medical check earlier this week. Am taking blood pressure medication and have done so for about six months. Doc sez unless I lose at least 20 more pounds (I'm at 5-10, 220 now) I will likely need to stay on the meds indefinitely.
I walk five days a week for 30 minutes a pop. There's not much time or energy right now for more exercise, but Doc sez my current routine should suffice, provided I cut my calories by at least 500 a day.
Aye, there's the rub. I get nicotine-like cravings for meat-and-potatoes stuff, and it's gonna be tough to cut it out so much that I lose 20 pounds. But I'm ready to stop drinking any soft drinks beyond the diet kind, and I will work to avoid the burger joints in favor of "the Jared option" at Subway and/or Quiznos. I also need to cut down on the sugar products and lunch-meat sandwiches at home.
Nearing 43, I really don't like the idea of growing infirm and pain-ridden in my later years. I know I'm hardly alone in this, but with the serious depression and mental anguish I've had in my life (just trust me on that one, okay?), my exceedingly good health has been about my only reliable trump card. If that goes, I shudder to think what hideous void might be left. Would I feel compelled to pull a HST at such a point? I hope not, for my family's sake if nothing else, but again I hate hate hate the idea of being old & poor & hopelessly weak.
Went to the doctor for a medical check earlier this week. Am taking blood pressure medication and have done so for about six months. Doc sez unless I lose at least 20 more pounds (I'm at 5-10, 220 now) I will likely need to stay on the meds indefinitely.
I walk five days a week for 30 minutes a pop. There's not much time or energy right now for more exercise, but Doc sez my current routine should suffice, provided I cut my calories by at least 500 a day.
Aye, there's the rub. I get nicotine-like cravings for meat-and-potatoes stuff, and it's gonna be tough to cut it out so much that I lose 20 pounds. But I'm ready to stop drinking any soft drinks beyond the diet kind, and I will work to avoid the burger joints in favor of "the Jared option" at Subway and/or Quiznos. I also need to cut down on the sugar products and lunch-meat sandwiches at home.
Nearing 43, I really don't like the idea of growing infirm and pain-ridden in my later years. I know I'm hardly alone in this, but with the serious depression and mental anguish I've had in my life (just trust me on that one, okay?), my exceedingly good health has been about my only reliable trump card. If that goes, I shudder to think what hideous void might be left. Would I feel compelled to pull a HST at such a point? I hope not, for my family's sake if nothing else, but again I hate hate hate the idea of being old & poor & hopelessly weak.
Crude
He's no fool, nosiree. He wants to live to be ninety-three. He's Chester Magpie, underground pundit:
"How I must endure this endless backslide of logic. The prehistoric rock not sharpened but dulled.
I watch our fallen heroes pissed on by rednecks who have a hard time spelling 'filibuster.' Dylan, Lennon and Costello turned into meat displays at Albertsons by the neocon death cult. Bush turning my mind into a relic. Sesame Street ransacked and looted by jackboot thugs.
What I want I can't have unless it's what the Disney Cast Member wants...and she wants blood for oil. We televise fantasies of muscle-bound Washington insiders fucking her hard over a barrel of crude. But I digress.
Man, how deep is this country's bigotry? Someday the real truth of today will be too overwhelming for even P. Jennings to stay hushed up, but at that point the bigots will have fucked the world real good. Can you say 'gas chambers'?
Oh well, back to jacking off to J.Lo!"
He's no fool, nosiree. He wants to live to be ninety-three. He's Chester Magpie, underground pundit:
"How I must endure this endless backslide of logic. The prehistoric rock not sharpened but dulled.
I watch our fallen heroes pissed on by rednecks who have a hard time spelling 'filibuster.' Dylan, Lennon and Costello turned into meat displays at Albertsons by the neocon death cult. Bush turning my mind into a relic. Sesame Street ransacked and looted by jackboot thugs.
What I want I can't have unless it's what the Disney Cast Member wants...and she wants blood for oil. We televise fantasies of muscle-bound Washington insiders fucking her hard over a barrel of crude. But I digress.
Man, how deep is this country's bigotry? Someday the real truth of today will be too overwhelming for even P. Jennings to stay hushed up, but at that point the bigots will have fucked the world real good. Can you say 'gas chambers'?
Oh well, back to jacking off to J.Lo!"
Friday, March 18, 2005
All We Have To Fear
The saga of George W. Bush is very much in line with the eternal shit sandwich that the elites feed the rabble -- century upon century of the corrupt leading the clueless.
What FDR and the Warren Court accomplished for the common man were historical anomalies. The Average Joe was emboldened by the geopolitical fluke of two world wars glorifying his "sacrifice for freedom," coupled with the "boy in the bubble" fluke of US economic dominance.
The 20th Century, then, will be considered the "Renaissance of the Common Man," though ironically this was a byproduct of big-time war and big-time money. Aaron Copland's "Fanfare for the Common Man" will be heard from galaxy to galaxy on future stupid documentaries. Elvis and the Beatles, plebes who made it big, will have lasting historical significance.
With the 21st Century, it's back to business as usual.
***
As Bush told his Harvard Business School prof in 1973, "the poor are that way because they're lazy." And as he told a GOP congressman in 2003 who said he'd come to Washington to cut entitlements, "So did I, pal."
Prescott Bush hated FDR, and his loyal heirs have acted on that hatred ever since.
But now that the ghost of FDR is kicking Junior's ass on the issue of Social Security, it's time to start thinking about when, where, and how re: another 9-11.
Another Iraq won't be much help to Bush, because of a depleted military and sequel-itis. Lots of people won't easily get outta their heads the image of poor GI Joe going crazy in Baghdad, when considering invading another country. Nor will they easily forget the BushCo lies about WMD.
However, if the next attack -- enabled by the shadow government and exploited by the whore media -- is big and heinous enough, then it might well create the "Nuke 'Em" groundswell that will make a draft happen. And once they start drafting people, then of course we're into a whole other level.
Allah help us all.
***
The modern world has reacted to new technologies and population explosion pretty much with the combined wisdom of a barrel of monkeys. The masses freak out at the complications & vulgarities & alienation, and resort to dangerous games of denial and manipulation.
We are fucked. But the corporate overlords might yet grant us some temporary relief. They know that any Final Solution of economic feudalism must come in long-term steps, steps that will likely include periods of throwing bones to the masses, lest the so-called "Hate Left" tendency start to mess with the bottom line. Next bone thrown might well be Hillary '08.
Things have really been breaking Hillary's way lately, eh? As if "they" have decided it's okay for her to take over in '08. "They" presume she will not threaten the long-term march to widespread virtual serfdom, and her success will counter anti-corporate resistance from the Howard Deans and Michael Moores among the populace.
Bush-Clinton-Bush-Clinton. Great symmetry, great storyline, and so "pro-family."
***
Bush did almost get thrown from office last year, even with all the perks of being a wartime prezdint and having the mainstream media (and Kenneth Blackwell) in his pocket. Not to mention having an opponent who held his fire at what turned out to be a crucial point of the election battle (Swift Boat).
I suspect a lot of money men are betting that "Bush Fatigue" will spread. Another war would likely be a harder sell, unless BushCo can somehow whip up the hysteria enough to ram through a draft. And minus a big Dem capitulation on Social Security ala the bankruptcy bill, which for now doesn't seem to be happening, I don't see Bush getting anything more than a painful (for him) compromise, and perhaps even nothing at all.
The question for me is, how bad does brother Jeb really want to be president in '08? Because if he's willing to pull out all the stops, the Bush Crime Family does have enough clout to keep him competitive. But if I recall correctly, GHWB was quoted a couple weeks back saying he didn't think Jeb planned to run in '08. Maybe he'll wait for '12 or '16, and let the Attack Machine savage another Clinton (or Kerry or Clark or Richardson if she stumbles) first.
The saga of George W. Bush is very much in line with the eternal shit sandwich that the elites feed the rabble -- century upon century of the corrupt leading the clueless.
What FDR and the Warren Court accomplished for the common man were historical anomalies. The Average Joe was emboldened by the geopolitical fluke of two world wars glorifying his "sacrifice for freedom," coupled with the "boy in the bubble" fluke of US economic dominance.
The 20th Century, then, will be considered the "Renaissance of the Common Man," though ironically this was a byproduct of big-time war and big-time money. Aaron Copland's "Fanfare for the Common Man" will be heard from galaxy to galaxy on future stupid documentaries. Elvis and the Beatles, plebes who made it big, will have lasting historical significance.
With the 21st Century, it's back to business as usual.
***
As Bush told his Harvard Business School prof in 1973, "the poor are that way because they're lazy." And as he told a GOP congressman in 2003 who said he'd come to Washington to cut entitlements, "So did I, pal."
Prescott Bush hated FDR, and his loyal heirs have acted on that hatred ever since.
But now that the ghost of FDR is kicking Junior's ass on the issue of Social Security, it's time to start thinking about when, where, and how re: another 9-11.
Another Iraq won't be much help to Bush, because of a depleted military and sequel-itis. Lots of people won't easily get outta their heads the image of poor GI Joe going crazy in Baghdad, when considering invading another country. Nor will they easily forget the BushCo lies about WMD.
However, if the next attack -- enabled by the shadow government and exploited by the whore media -- is big and heinous enough, then it might well create the "Nuke 'Em" groundswell that will make a draft happen. And once they start drafting people, then of course we're into a whole other level.
Allah help us all.
***
The modern world has reacted to new technologies and population explosion pretty much with the combined wisdom of a barrel of monkeys. The masses freak out at the complications & vulgarities & alienation, and resort to dangerous games of denial and manipulation.
We are fucked. But the corporate overlords might yet grant us some temporary relief. They know that any Final Solution of economic feudalism must come in long-term steps, steps that will likely include periods of throwing bones to the masses, lest the so-called "Hate Left" tendency start to mess with the bottom line. Next bone thrown might well be Hillary '08.
Things have really been breaking Hillary's way lately, eh? As if "they" have decided it's okay for her to take over in '08. "They" presume she will not threaten the long-term march to widespread virtual serfdom, and her success will counter anti-corporate resistance from the Howard Deans and Michael Moores among the populace.
Bush-Clinton-Bush-Clinton. Great symmetry, great storyline, and so "pro-family."
***
Bush did almost get thrown from office last year, even with all the perks of being a wartime prezdint and having the mainstream media (and Kenneth Blackwell) in his pocket. Not to mention having an opponent who held his fire at what turned out to be a crucial point of the election battle (Swift Boat).
I suspect a lot of money men are betting that "Bush Fatigue" will spread. Another war would likely be a harder sell, unless BushCo can somehow whip up the hysteria enough to ram through a draft. And minus a big Dem capitulation on Social Security ala the bankruptcy bill, which for now doesn't seem to be happening, I don't see Bush getting anything more than a painful (for him) compromise, and perhaps even nothing at all.
The question for me is, how bad does brother Jeb really want to be president in '08? Because if he's willing to pull out all the stops, the Bush Crime Family does have enough clout to keep him competitive. But if I recall correctly, GHWB was quoted a couple weeks back saying he didn't think Jeb planned to run in '08. Maybe he'll wait for '12 or '16, and let the Attack Machine savage another Clinton (or Kerry or Clark or Richardson if she stumbles) first.
Bookworm Food
Lots of books consumed lately. About two-thirds through David McCullough's "John Adams", Will Friedwald's "Sinatra!: The Song Is You", and Kitty Kelley's "The Family: The Real Story Of The Bush Dynasty." Also listened to the audiobook of Al Franken's fictional and hilarious chronicle of the ill-fated Franken presidency "Why Not Me?" (Love ya Al, but think twice before you decide to take on the odious Norm Coleman in Minnesota. Fairly or not, your anti-PC past of drugs, profanity and vicious satire may well come back to bite you in the ass.)
Two bestsellers I recently finished were "America: The Book" by the cast and writers of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, and J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter and The Order of The Phoenix."
"America" is about as good as it gets, with an uncompromising satirical bite combining the best elements of National Lampoon, Mad and The Onion. And it's more than just goofy distraction for shits and giggles -- the satire contains such incisive commentary on Man As Political Animal that one leaves the book seriously pondering whether people are just too weak and stupid to make any government ideal work, not just Jeffersonian Democracy.
My daughter's read all the Potter books; intrigued and charmed by her enthusiasm and the generally solid quality level of the Potter movies, I went through books 3, 4 and 5 of the series. (Book 6 comes out this summer, and after I read that I'll go back to books 1 and 2.) Maybe it's only comfort food and not at all Great Lit, but I'm hooked. The characters are compelling, even if some or most of the plot elements seem too tailor-made for Hollywood production.
The one I finished yesterday, book 5, was an audiobook ably read by actor Jim Dale. An intense reading of the text, sometimes a bit too intense for my taste, but he did a helluva job with the characters' dialects and inflections, setting a standard that actors in the coming movie version would be wise to acknowledge.
The following is Potter Geek Talk with possible spoilers and can be ignored by those who say Rowling can't plot for shit:
So many close calls! Such a welcome breakthrough for Neville! So many creative visual possibilities for the film!
Well done overall, although I couldn't help but feel disappointment when Rowling had Dumbledore rescue the uber-villain Umbridge from the forest. The sadist in me wanted to continue imagining her being tortured to death by the Centaurs -- but I suppose we'll eventually get a patented full-of-gravitas explanation from Dumbledore about why he saved her. And I'd guess that JKR figures "The Grand Inquisitor" is too good a bad guy to give up just yet.
Man did Harry ever get pummeled from all directions in this one. Poor chap, having to deal with all this pressure and teenage hormones too. Will he end up going steady with Ginny, Luna or someone yet to emerge? Stay tuned.
Nice to see JKR throw in an interesting take on Death Itself from Nearly Headless Nick near the end. "Ghosts are only that way because they are wizards afraid of moving on" -- check!
Lots of books consumed lately. About two-thirds through David McCullough's "John Adams", Will Friedwald's "Sinatra!: The Song Is You", and Kitty Kelley's "The Family: The Real Story Of The Bush Dynasty." Also listened to the audiobook of Al Franken's fictional and hilarious chronicle of the ill-fated Franken presidency "Why Not Me?" (Love ya Al, but think twice before you decide to take on the odious Norm Coleman in Minnesota. Fairly or not, your anti-PC past of drugs, profanity and vicious satire may well come back to bite you in the ass.)
Two bestsellers I recently finished were "America: The Book" by the cast and writers of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, and J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter and The Order of The Phoenix."
"America" is about as good as it gets, with an uncompromising satirical bite combining the best elements of National Lampoon, Mad and The Onion. And it's more than just goofy distraction for shits and giggles -- the satire contains such incisive commentary on Man As Political Animal that one leaves the book seriously pondering whether people are just too weak and stupid to make any government ideal work, not just Jeffersonian Democracy.
My daughter's read all the Potter books; intrigued and charmed by her enthusiasm and the generally solid quality level of the Potter movies, I went through books 3, 4 and 5 of the series. (Book 6 comes out this summer, and after I read that I'll go back to books 1 and 2.) Maybe it's only comfort food and not at all Great Lit, but I'm hooked. The characters are compelling, even if some or most of the plot elements seem too tailor-made for Hollywood production.
The one I finished yesterday, book 5, was an audiobook ably read by actor Jim Dale. An intense reading of the text, sometimes a bit too intense for my taste, but he did a helluva job with the characters' dialects and inflections, setting a standard that actors in the coming movie version would be wise to acknowledge.
The following is Potter Geek Talk with possible spoilers and can be ignored by those who say Rowling can't plot for shit:
So many close calls! Such a welcome breakthrough for Neville! So many creative visual possibilities for the film!
Well done overall, although I couldn't help but feel disappointment when Rowling had Dumbledore rescue the uber-villain Umbridge from the forest. The sadist in me wanted to continue imagining her being tortured to death by the Centaurs -- but I suppose we'll eventually get a patented full-of-gravitas explanation from Dumbledore about why he saved her. And I'd guess that JKR figures "The Grand Inquisitor" is too good a bad guy to give up just yet.
Man did Harry ever get pummeled from all directions in this one. Poor chap, having to deal with all this pressure and teenage hormones too. Will he end up going steady with Ginny, Luna or someone yet to emerge? Stay tuned.
Nice to see JKR throw in an interesting take on Death Itself from Nearly Headless Nick near the end. "Ghosts are only that way because they are wizards afraid of moving on" -- check!
Groovin' Up
My daughter's radio alarm went off yesterday at 5:30 am. She slept through several minutes of it, and it could be heard through the house, so I got out of bed and walked to her room to turn it off. The Beatles' "Come Together" was blasting through the little speaker.
Before I got up, I dreamt I was walking down a hallway listening to the unreleased version of "Come Together." The version where George Martin kept open John and Paul's microphones while they were laying down instrumental tracks. So you could hear Lennon and McCartney babbling away while the keyboard and guitar solos were going on. Couldn't quite make out what they were saying, though.
I'd thought this hallway would take me to Ray Charles' tomb. It was on the "ground level" of the cemetery, a level I descended to via elevator. On the upper level I'd seen the tombs of Dolly Sinatra and the late young singing sensation "4". I also ran into Eartha Kitt, who gave me a bear hug from the back and briefly sucked on my blue Bic pen. She said it was good for the gums.
My daughter's radio alarm went off yesterday at 5:30 am. She slept through several minutes of it, and it could be heard through the house, so I got out of bed and walked to her room to turn it off. The Beatles' "Come Together" was blasting through the little speaker.
Before I got up, I dreamt I was walking down a hallway listening to the unreleased version of "Come Together." The version where George Martin kept open John and Paul's microphones while they were laying down instrumental tracks. So you could hear Lennon and McCartney babbling away while the keyboard and guitar solos were going on. Couldn't quite make out what they were saying, though.
I'd thought this hallway would take me to Ray Charles' tomb. It was on the "ground level" of the cemetery, a level I descended to via elevator. On the upper level I'd seen the tombs of Dolly Sinatra and the late young singing sensation "4". I also ran into Eartha Kitt, who gave me a bear hug from the back and briefly sucked on my blue Bic pen. She said it was good for the gums.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
School's Out
One of my son's completed Grade 3 assignments, from earlier this school year:
If I was president of United States of America I would Make peace and every thing would be free. I would invent a head band so you could know every thing. I would demolish every school. I would make it an easier life. That's what I would do if I was president.
Note to self: Son values peace, freedom and new technology. Wants full education without having to go to school. Enjoys idea of schools being demolished. Probably not alone in this.
One of my son's completed Grade 3 assignments, from earlier this school year:
If I was president of United States of America I would Make peace and every thing would be free. I would invent a head band so you could know every thing. I would demolish every school. I would make it an easier life. That's what I would do if I was president.
Note to self: Son values peace, freedom and new technology. Wants full education without having to go to school. Enjoys idea of schools being demolished. Probably not alone in this.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
More Cyber-y Goodness
I feared I'd have to take my co-favorite (along with Hullabaloo and TT White House) political site, Steve M.'s "No More Mr. Nice Blog," off my link list, as Steve had announced he was concluding his fine series of "cut the crap" political blogposts. But thanks to a campaign evoking the Trekkers' efforts to save Enterprise, the "Steve Heads" prevailed, and Mister M. returns this week, adding a comments section, no less. He may not post as much, but with the likelihood that the level of excellence will remain, the quality factor ought to trump the quantity factor, no prob.
I enjoy the hip, creative & life-affirming writings of those NoCal neo-New Agers, Mark Morford and Rob Brezsny, and it's overdue that I put their archives here. I should mention to the astrology skeptics among my 4.5 readers (not that there's anything wrong with that): it's not at all necessary to take Brezsny's horoscopes as a forecast and/or recipe for a particular period of weeks or months; they work just as well or better as a funky kinda general advice.
Also added today are two recent finds, a couple of humor blogs that go right for the gut, just the way I like it. Say hey to 2004 Koufax Award winner Jesus' General, and the awesome revealed banality of Overheard in the Office.
I feared I'd have to take my co-favorite (along with Hullabaloo and TT White House) political site, Steve M.'s "No More Mr. Nice Blog," off my link list, as Steve had announced he was concluding his fine series of "cut the crap" political blogposts. But thanks to a campaign evoking the Trekkers' efforts to save Enterprise, the "Steve Heads" prevailed, and Mister M. returns this week, adding a comments section, no less. He may not post as much, but with the likelihood that the level of excellence will remain, the quality factor ought to trump the quantity factor, no prob.
I enjoy the hip, creative & life-affirming writings of those NoCal neo-New Agers, Mark Morford and Rob Brezsny, and it's overdue that I put their archives here. I should mention to the astrology skeptics among my 4.5 readers (not that there's anything wrong with that): it's not at all necessary to take Brezsny's horoscopes as a forecast and/or recipe for a particular period of weeks or months; they work just as well or better as a funky kinda general advice.
Also added today are two recent finds, a couple of humor blogs that go right for the gut, just the way I like it. Say hey to 2004 Koufax Award winner Jesus' General, and the awesome revealed banality of Overheard in the Office.
A Horse Of Course
Another year, another spring of big-time horse racing. With Hollywood Park opening again next month, and the Triple Crown coming soon after that, it's time for a fresh batch of interestin' horse names, recently observed during my time working at a horse-racing wagering establishment:
Joe Momma
He's Inebriated
Bushwacked
Aristocat O'Malley
Clinton Debriefed
Hitchcock Bayama
My Lovely Psycho
Bobnoxious
Squirt The Milkman
Skeeter Repellant
Shouldaboughtamule
Crossdresser Dan
Air American
Cassette Case
Fickle Picklepeter
Sid Dithers
Tony's Loc
Gamblin' Caper
Texcess
Ahnold
Whitewatergate
Space Pants
Third Half
Dealey Plaza
No Comment
Another year, another spring of big-time horse racing. With Hollywood Park opening again next month, and the Triple Crown coming soon after that, it's time for a fresh batch of interestin' horse names, recently observed during my time working at a horse-racing wagering establishment:
Joe Momma
He's Inebriated
Bushwacked
Aristocat O'Malley
Clinton Debriefed
Hitchcock Bayama
My Lovely Psycho
Bobnoxious
Squirt The Milkman
Skeeter Repellant
Shouldaboughtamule
Crossdresser Dan
Air American
Cassette Case
Fickle Picklepeter
Sid Dithers
Tony's Loc
Gamblin' Caper
Texcess
Ahnold
Whitewatergate
Space Pants
Third Half
Dealey Plaza
No Comment
Civilized Behaviour
Today's earworms: "The Man With A Child In His Eyes" - Kate Bush, and "Civilization (Bongo Bongo Bongo)" - Danny Kaye and The Andrews Sisters
Saw the video for the Kate Bush song on VH1 Classic recently: the woman affectionately called "Kate's Bush" by an old acquaintance, doing that ethereal tantric voodoo she does so well. She's up there among my favorite female artists, her greatest hits compilation The Whole Story a source of much comfort over the years, and she's one of only five musicians who I've mentioned by name in my song lyrics (the others being Elvis, Yoko, Sean and, er, Sid Vicious.) I hear from reliable Spitgroove sources she's finally finishing up a new CD, her first in 12 years, and I look forward to giving it a spin.
Speaking of a man with a child in his eyes...the catchy Danny Kaye track (with Kaye ably backed by The Andrews Sisters) was discovered on a "Best Of Danny Kaye" CD checked out from the library. Kaye was the consummate showman, and to a family like mine so involved in theatre (my daughter's doing Joseph And The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat at the high school this week, for example) he is one of those who set the standard for excellence. The "Best Of" CD suffers due to a pre-'50s lack of stereo quality -- and Kaye's uber-theatrics really worked better in a live or filmed setting -- but on recordings like "Civilization" ("They have things like the atom bomb / So I think I'll stay where I ahm"), "Bloop Bleep," "Minnie The Moocher," and "Ballin' The Jack," the charm of the performance transcends the technical limitations.
Kaye's CD, and Yo-Yo Ma's compilation "Classical Yo-Yo" have the distinction of being the first two CDs I copied on my new CD burner. (Yes, the new millennium has finally come to my house, music-wise.) I hope to eventually get as skilled with the CD compilations as I have with the cassette ones.
Today's earworms: "The Man With A Child In His Eyes" - Kate Bush, and "Civilization (Bongo Bongo Bongo)" - Danny Kaye and The Andrews Sisters
Saw the video for the Kate Bush song on VH1 Classic recently: the woman affectionately called "Kate's Bush" by an old acquaintance, doing that ethereal tantric voodoo she does so well. She's up there among my favorite female artists, her greatest hits compilation The Whole Story a source of much comfort over the years, and she's one of only five musicians who I've mentioned by name in my song lyrics (the others being Elvis, Yoko, Sean and, er, Sid Vicious.) I hear from reliable Spitgroove sources she's finally finishing up a new CD, her first in 12 years, and I look forward to giving it a spin.
Speaking of a man with a child in his eyes...the catchy Danny Kaye track (with Kaye ably backed by The Andrews Sisters) was discovered on a "Best Of Danny Kaye" CD checked out from the library. Kaye was the consummate showman, and to a family like mine so involved in theatre (my daughter's doing Joseph And The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat at the high school this week, for example) he is one of those who set the standard for excellence. The "Best Of" CD suffers due to a pre-'50s lack of stereo quality -- and Kaye's uber-theatrics really worked better in a live or filmed setting -- but on recordings like "Civilization" ("They have things like the atom bomb / So I think I'll stay where I ahm"), "Bloop Bleep," "Minnie The Moocher," and "Ballin' The Jack," the charm of the performance transcends the technical limitations.
Kaye's CD, and Yo-Yo Ma's compilation "Classical Yo-Yo" have the distinction of being the first two CDs I copied on my new CD burner. (Yes, the new millennium has finally come to my house, music-wise.) I hope to eventually get as skilled with the CD compilations as I have with the cassette ones.
A Most Successful Formula
Another recent homemade mix, this one an update of a tape originally recorded in 1994...
NEGATIVLAND
Perfect Cuts 1987-1997
Side One
U2 (Special Edit Radio Mix)
Time Zones
The Perfect Cut (White Rabbit and a Dog Named Gidget)
The Bottom Line
Michael Jackson
Our National Anthem
Guns (Now)
The Playboy Channel
I Am God
Christianity Is Stupid
The Gun and the Bible
A Most Successful Formula
Happy Hero
The Greatest Taste Around
Side Two
The Perfect Cut (Rooty Poops)
We Are Driven
Nesbitt's Lime Soda Song
Over The Hiccups
Guns (Then)
Yellow, Black and Rectangular
You Don't Even Live Here
Helter Stupid
Aluminum or Glass: The Memo
Bite Back
Recorded 1994, 2005 by Greg T. Hough.
110 minutes, high-bias recording.
Were I to someday make this even more completist, I'd add "Theme From A Big 10-8 Place," "Four Fingers," and "O.J. And His Personal Trainer Kill Ron and Nicole."
Thanks to Gary Wyffels for turning me on to all those Negativ CDs and albums way back when.
Another recent homemade mix, this one an update of a tape originally recorded in 1994...
NEGATIVLAND
Perfect Cuts 1987-1997
Side One
U2 (Special Edit Radio Mix)
Time Zones
The Perfect Cut (White Rabbit and a Dog Named Gidget)
The Bottom Line
Michael Jackson
Our National Anthem
Guns (Now)
The Playboy Channel
I Am God
Christianity Is Stupid
The Gun and the Bible
A Most Successful Formula
Happy Hero
The Greatest Taste Around
Side Two
The Perfect Cut (Rooty Poops)
We Are Driven
Nesbitt's Lime Soda Song
Over The Hiccups
Guns (Then)
Yellow, Black and Rectangular
You Don't Even Live Here
Helter Stupid
Aluminum or Glass: The Memo
Bite Back
Recorded 1994, 2005 by Greg T. Hough.
110 minutes, high-bias recording.
Were I to someday make this even more completist, I'd add "Theme From A Big 10-8 Place," "Four Fingers," and "O.J. And His Personal Trainer Kill Ron and Nicole."
Thanks to Gary Wyffels for turning me on to all those Negativ CDs and albums way back when.
