Frankie, Part II

Life, And The Fullness Thereof

A poem for Frank.

There are three
Questions that life
Has never asked me:

When do you want it?

Where do you want it?

How much of it do you want?

This has been
A cause for great
Concern



thanks to Dr Wayne for turning me onto "If I Was President".

What is it about Market Street that makes folks so darn sleepy?

Creepy Shit

I have some very disturbing drama going on just now. I didn't create it, and I might not be able to do anything about it, but I will be busy with it for a little while. Patience, please. Kind thoughts or prayers are always welcome.

There are some bad people in this world.

MINUTES LATER: A phone call seems to have resolved the situation. I am still somewhat emotionally wracked. Good time to practice the ukulele rather than wondering what it all means. There are still some bad people in the world.

Hanging on

Mr. Beer N. Hockey wants to go out with a drink in each hand. I'm ready to die clutching my ukulele, playing "Class War".  It might be the only weapon I'll have left.

It might be true that I have "ceased fighting anything or anybody", but they haven't ceased fighting us.

Shit floats

"That the earth was not made purposely for you, to be Lords of it,
and we to be your Slaves, Servants, and Beggers; but it was made
to be a common Livelihood to all, without respect of persons: And
that your buying and selling of Land, and the Fruits of it, one to
another, is The cursed thing, and was brought in by War; which
hath, and still does establish murder, and theft, In the hands of
some branches of Mankinde over others, which is the greatest
outward burden, and unrighteous power, that the Creation groans
under..." 

Hat tip to Valerie from Refugi 307. I'm somewhat cranky about this whole money thing. Maybe it's because I've always been a socialist and now the billionaires have jumped on my bandwagon. Bastards.

Frankie

I had a phone conversation with the great Frankie. I'm looking forward to meeting him soon. He seemed a little surprised that I am as old as I am. I have to remind him that I am two years younger than Joe Strummer and Joey Ramone would have been. I am seven years younger than Patti Smith and two years older than John (Rotten) Lydon. I guess there were several things about my age that surprised him. First, my dentures kept falling out. Second my Depends sprung a leak causing an ugly stain on my Sansabelt polyester slacks which almost dripped onto my hush puppies. Or maybe it was the way I kept marveling at the fact that my phone works pretty good, even though it does not have a cord. Hell, I don't know, maybe it was because I couldn't stop talking about what a rebel John McCain is. What a fuckin' wild man that guy is.

Let me assure you Frank, a new set of incontinence pants, a double dose of denture glue and a couple of cans of "Just For Men" and I clean up real good. Let's talk again soon.

God save

I hope you didn't think that Johnny Rotten was lying about destroying rock and roll. This would be perfect but for the lack of ukuleles.

Big Rock Candy Mountain

"Just because I am handsome enough to be a model, don't go thinkin' that I'm some kinda homo."

It's Sunday. I don't need to be at work. I don't need to be anywhere. So, I'm in bed, listening to music, surfing the internet and paging through the Cabela's catalog. Cabela's loves me. They send me about three huge catalogs a week. I don't hunt, I don't fish, but I do dress like my mom picks out my clothes. So there they are, page after page of stiff looking men wearing stiff looking ill fitting clothes. The idea is that this will appeal to rural white men, who can then safely hand the catalog to the wife and say, "Hell honey, I don't care. Just pick some stuff outta this here."

I am constantly scanning the Cabela's catalog in hopes of finding something wearable that fits the uniform policy at work: "No dungaree type pants." When was the last time you heard the word dungarees? Well, Cabela's and the large orange bridge still talk about dungarees. I think it's quaint.

I wish there was some kind of slightly cool version of the Cabela's catalog: just as corny but not quite so fuckin' stiff. I am, after all, a rural white man, although I never let my ex pick out my clothes. In fact even cornier would be cool. The worst part of the Cabela's catalog is when they try and be hip. Nasty. Finally, I gave up on Cabela's and went back to the computer, where I discovered the soundtrack for the slightly cool Cabela's catalog, Big Rock Candy Mountain. Good shit. Pretty corny, not fuckin' stiff.

"Liquor Store" is the theme song for a period of my life in the midwest. My favorite line is the one about pawning the tools for an extra twenty bucks. I used to own a genuinely deadly assault rifle, a Ruger Mini 14. I had it "just in case" . I mean what if some kind of truly bad shit were to go down? However, when I ran out of beer and cigarettes the weekend before payday, I never hesitated to run it down to the pawn shop and take out a loan on a case of Blatz and a carton of Camels. The bad shit would have to wait till after payday.

Getting through the day.

"These behaviors are not maladaptive. They help me get through the day."- Dr Dean Ornish on self destructive behavior


Adam Kimmel presents: Claremont HD from adam kimmel on Vimeo.
I have been thinking about the book "Detroit: I Do Mind Dying". It's the history of The League of Revolutionary Black Workers. The League was a militant Black community based alternative to the United Auto Worker's Union. League leaders were regular guys off the assembly line. They were working 54 hours a week, "dancing with the devil in hell". They were popular with young Black workers, but a lot of old timers were alienated by name calling language. Calling a respected old time union officer a "handkerchief headed Uncle Tom" is going to make you some enemies.

So, lately, I've been getting up at 3:30 in the morning and getting home at 6:30 at night. I'm tired, I'm cranky and I say things I probably shouldn't. If I've said something dumb, mean, offensive or hurtful I apologize. I might have to do something really crazy if things continue this way. Hopefully it will be fun and crazy.

The guys in this video might be crazy, but they seem to be having fun. Fun will ward off craziness. Even if fun is a little crazy.

No comment

"On September the 10th most of the country thought that New York was full of fags, jews and spics and should just sail off into the Atlantic. By September 11th it was every hillbilly's personal tragedy."

And by the way, 35 years ago today the democratically elected government of Chile was overthrown with the assistance of the United States government. At least 6,000 people were "disappeared" or outright murdered.

Explain the collapse of the third building, the pools of molten metal in the wreckage, the absence of any identifiable aircraft parts at The Pentagon etc, etc and I will stop thinking about the Reichstag Fire. Until then, condolences to those who lost loved ones and hope that the perpetrators are identified and captured someday.

Pit Bull, Pig, What's the difference?

Hat tip to The Field Negro. Long after it would have done me any good, I have finally become cool. Mick Farren, the Mick Farren, has posted a link to this blog at Doc 40.

Extraordinary

"A private jet that crash-landed almost one year ago in eastern Mexico carrying 3.3 tons of cocaine had previously been used for CIA “rendition” flights, a newspaper report said here Thursday, citing documents from the United States and the European Parliament."

Image and news report from Happy Fun Ball.

If I was a real serious blogger I'd aspire to being Happy Fun Ball.

Ozzie Destroyed

Ozzie Nelson that is. Harriett, David and Little Ricky look on in horror. NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU WANT TO SCREAM, RUN, BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT, ANYTHING TO GET AWAY FROM THE NIGHTMARE THAT IS THIS VIDEO, YOU MUST KEEP WATCHING UNTIL ABOUT 3:00 WHEN HE BITES THE HEAD OFF A BAT.

Things to do during the republican convention

The Teamsters weren't afraid of the Minneapolis coppers. 

I don't even have a TV. I'm glad I don't have one. I haven't turned on the radio in days. That doesn't mean I haven't been online. Nossir. So I know that the police are fucking with protestors in Minneapolis, home of the great teamsters rebellion.

Whether or not you have a TV, don't get sentimental about the goddam '60's. That was a long time ago and chances are you weren't born. Here's a useful quote from Dave Van Ronk:

“[M]ost of these people were not really radicals, just a bunch of very pissed-off liberals. They had no grounding, and indeed no interest, in theory, and their disdain for studying history and learning economics infuriated me. The core problem with the New Left was that it wasn’t an ideology, it was a mood – and if you are susceptible to one mood, you are susceptible to another. They wanted the world to change, but essentially it was a petty bourgeois movement that had no connection with what was really going on. The working class at least has some power – if the working class folds its arms, the machinery stops – and as for the ruling class, its power is obvious. But what power does the middle class have? They have the power to talk: yak, yak, yak. To interpret, reinterpret, and re-reinterpret. And that is the history of the New Left in a nutshell"

Thanks, hat tip etc. to These Things Too. A great blog from Indiana. 

If you must watch the convention, try playing Count The Negroes. Remember, you are not allowed to count the same Negro twice.

"watching the RNC is so funny. Almost all the Black Republicans will be *on the stage* and they will zoom into the "other" guy in the audience 6 times a day, every day, like he's someone different. last time I was laughing hysterically by the second day. They keep showing the same 12 people of color over and over again like they are different people. From different angles, from different cameras but the same dozen non-white delegates."

Thanks, hat tip etc. to The Field Negro. A great blog from Philadelphia.

Why I am not working in a saw mill today

A poem for Mr. Beer N. Hockey

Because I am compassionate

And I have picture of the 

Dalai Lama in my 

Hybrid car

And I believe everything

I read in Adbusters

Even though it is from Canada

And I love the world's poor so much

So long as I don't have to meet any of them

(Unless I am on an ecotourist AMAZING vacation)

That I wish there were more of them

So that I could admire their quaint AMAZING

Cultures and buy records from Berkeley 

Of their traditional music

And because I paid $200 for a shirt

Made out of Organic Hemp

And because I read a magazine article

No, TWO AMAZING magazine articles

And now I run around telling people

That eating is a very political act

And because when I find that

Someone has touched

My Bicycle

I get all red in the face

And say things like

"What kind of a sick society 

Is this?

Why in Tibet there are 

Humble people 

Who live AMAZING spiritual lives

And are happy to hurd yaks and live 

On rancid yak piss

In hopes that

In their next life 

They will be allowed to smell one of

The Dalai Lama's farts!!!"

And then I get on my $5,000

Titanium framed bike

And go cut off some traffic so

That everyone will know how much

I hate them for 

Their stupid consumerist lifestyles

Except that

I used to be a total punk

And I lived in a tent on 

The sidewalk and

Shit on the sidewalk

And hated everyone who had

A job

Because I was never going to sell out

But I am still true to my 

Old ideals

Because I still think that I'm better

Than other people

Because I have studied Buddhism

For an entire weekend

With an AMAZINGLY spiritual teacher

Who charges a thousand dollars 

For a weekend seminar

But he has a lot of tattoos

And he drives several extremely cool

Vintage cars

And a restored classic Indian motorcycle

It is probably a mistake to place your trust in politicians

Hat tip, thanks etc. to my old friend and ex landlady, Geraldine, whose food blog is called The Questing Feast.

Labor Day, and I ain't workin'

Still have to have two browsers and five windows open to post this. Is it any wonder I haven't posted anything for a month?

What ever happened to the world? It's Labor Day, that's Labor not consumer day. The work that people do is important. Our relationship to work is important. What we buy with out money just isn't that important. Nonetheless, I am still being bombarded by creepy neo-hippies who want me to believe that I can change the world "by shopping!!"

Go away creepy neo-hippies, I'm a proud union man. I believe I'll take my wages and buy me one of them rocket ships.




Ib from Siblingshot is the best pal a blogger could have and he is trying to explain to me how I might flee the clutches of iMeem. It seems, like everything else, it costs money. That will cut into my interplanetary exploration budget.

While I'm pondering that one give a listen to Mademoiselle Montana's Yodel Heaven. Perhaps you think you are not a yodeling fan. Perhaps you have not given The Mademoiselle a chance to educate you in the beauty of yodeling.

Solidarity forever.
Mademoiselle Montana about to bust a yodeling move.