I wasn’t going to write anything about the death of Stooges guitarist Ron Asheton, because it seems like a million articles have popped up on line since his death, written by the millions of people who loved him and loved the Stooges. Maybe the internet made the Stooges famous, because 30 years ago you couldn’t give a Stooges record away (they made their first record 40 years ago, in 1969).
But I digress. I have been thinking a lot about Asheton in the past couple of weeks because I’ve been listening to the ridiculous, excessive, riveting and at times downright spine-tingling seven disc box set of The Complete 1970 Funhouse Sessions.
It is really becoming irritating to see so many people writing about how much they are suffering financially when they have chosen to live outside of society’s typical work/pay scenario.
There are certain choices that you make, and you have to live with those choices. If you choose to be a street mime or operate a Michigan turtle rescue, you shouldn’t complain that you are broke or hungry, that your bank is screwing you with overdraft fees, or your electricity was shut off.
There is a great forum over at bukowski.net.
I have participated in a lot of forums and online groups, and it is unusual to find one that is interesting and informative and not just full of bullshit and posturing. Part of building a good forum is pure luck, but a larger part is a lot of tedious work. One determined knucklehead can run almost any online group off it’s rails in a surprisingly short amount of time. A handful of knuckleheads is almost indefensible. They will win, you will lose.
These Obama photos are in Time magazine this week.
This is for Tom. I don’t usually do these “tag, you’re it” things, but as it turns out I did it once before, so here we are again.
Image number four from the fourth image directory on my computer:
Carol is working on a new book, and in an effort to make it as labor-intensive as possible, she is actually typing out the text on each finished page (hundreds of them) by hand on an old Underwood typewriter.
This makes a clack clack clacking sound throughout the house, that was probably a very familiar sound years ago, but it pretty unusual these days.
To celebrate Thanksgiving my dog Buddy took one of the hardcover copies of Riding Out the Dumb Silence out into the yard and ate it.
Well, he tried to eat it all, but he choked on some of the words, came back into the house and told me that I really needed to work on my similes and metaphors.
So, I’m sitting here at the kitchen table listening to KPCC, the local public radio station, and of course they are talking about the fires that are burning down half the county. At about 10:40 they had a conversation with Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa.
He said the typical things they say when these fires happen every year, then to wrap up, the host asked, “Mayor Villaraigosa, if you could say just one thing to the people of Los Angeles right now, what would it be?”
A funny thing happened on November 4th. I voted for a Presidential candidate who won.
I know, a lot of you did, but I’ve voted in every election since 1980, and this is the first time I marked the ballot for the person who actually won. Now I am left with this odd feeling that something is terribly wrong.
I was having a beer with some young chaps from work the other night, and the Clash song “Rudie Can’t Fail” came on the jukebox. I said, “Ah, London Calling, the greatest rock and roll album ever made,” and one of the guys I was with whipped out his combination phone/computer/teleportation device and typed in “London Calling,” and said, “Got it!”
I didn’t think anything of it, but the next day he had the album on his iPod and was listening to it. A couple of days later he came in to my office and said, “So why is London Calling the greatest rock and roll album of all time?”
The baseball playoffs are underway, and today the Phillies beat the Dodgers. Isn’t that – I don’t know – exciting? I don’t get it, myself. Rooting for a professional sports team. Isn’t is kind of like rooting for Hummer to beat Land Rover in sales this quarter?
Don’t get me wrong, I understand the history of regional rivalries in professional sports. But it’s been a couple decades, at least, since players showed allegiance to anyone other than their agents. When I was a kid, pretty much the same group of guys would show up every year and put on Viking or Twins uniforms. There was a continuum there, and you felt like the players represented your state or your city.
Okay, I’m going to rave about a fringe movie again, one that will only appeal to one out of every hundred people who read this, but it’s what I do, so don’t try to stop me. The last one, Rockers, is mainly of interest to old school reggae lovers and Jamaicaphiles, and this one will hit a chord primarily with old punks and possibly fans of Diane Lane and Laura Dern. It’s called Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains.
It was one of Lane’s first films after A Little Romance, which made a big splash in 1979 and landed her on the cover of TIME magazine. Lane had just turned 15 when they began filming The Fabulous Stains, and Laura Dern was even younger (12 years old when filming began!), with only a bit part in 1979’s B movie classic, Foxes, to her credit.
So, this band I was in during the late 1980s was in a movie. It was a lot of fun. You know, pretending to play for hours while they film you from on top, behind, up your nose and every other which way you can imagine. Yeah, it was a real blast. “A little more energy, fellows!”
If you needed proof that even the Republican party considers the next presidential election to be a “gimme” for Obama, look no further than the decision today to run Sarah Palin as Vice President next to John McCain.
From the great state of Alaska, where every politician is either under investigation or already indicted for corruption and fraud, Palin is herself under investigation for firing Public Safety Commissioner Walt Monegan because he wouldn’t carry out a personal vendetta for her and fire her former brother-in-law from the state police.
Someone asked me why I write such angry things about Christians. I’ll answer here, so everyone can point and laugh in one convenient location.
I don’t have a problem with Christians. I don’t really care about them. They never cross my mind, honestly, you know, with the exception of the times when one of them says something profoundly idiotic, which is just about every four seconds.