on the scene

what if joe harriot had made an album called "swing low, sweet harriot?"

my two favorite players, kidd and nash, have both been knocked out of the playoffs. every close call went to the spurs, which is nothing new. also, the calls the lakers got through out their series with denver helped them to a sweep. it seemed that every time kenyon martin breathed, he got called for a foul. the one good thing is that the hawks are making the celtics work. what an upset that would be. go hawks!

a quote, interestingly enough, from a former chief inspector of schools, the year, 1911.

"the aim of the teacher is to leave nothing to the pupil's nature, nothing to his spontaneous life, nothing to his free activity; to repress all of his natural impulses; to drill his energies into complete quiescence; to keep his whole being in a state of sustained and painful tension."

quoted from tom hodgkinson's the freedom manifesto, which i am enjoying.

an underrated coltrane album is called mating call, a quartet album he co-led with pianist and composer tadd dameron. i believe the album to be rather unknown. recorded in november of 1956, it is the first record of my knowledge which features coltrane as the only horn. all the songs are written by dameron, one of the great composers in jazz. the ballads, "soultrane", and "on a misty night", are particular stand outs.

a horrible story about a father who held his daughter hostage and raped her over a period of 24 years has recently appeared in the news. i seem to recall a country which has held another country hostage and raped her since 1990, but since it wasn't in the news, i can't be absolutely sure.

everyone should see mel brooks sing high anxiety in the film of the same name. a great mock of the sinatra style of singing. brilliant.

starting to apply for some summer jobs, but don't really want to. it's just that my penis is already shrinking, and the thought of my bank account shrinking as well is just too much to bare.

pinko, no man that steals from net clits should ever be called a pussy.

i realize that line may get me thrown into the basement, but sometimes you have to swing for the fences under an august wilson moon. perhaps the line wasn't warren-ted, perhaps it was even a political football that i will be kicked around for, but, if it means de-feet for me, i will hand it to my opponent and move on.

obama recently said he would never disown his pastor. well, yesterday he disowned his pastor. the pastor's crime? acknowledging that racism is a powerful element in american life. obama's next step is likely to tap dance and smile a lot in the hopes that this will help to increase his support from the white working class. someone should remind these guys that hitler was quite popular with the white working class.

tomorrow is may day, the orignial worker's holiday. on this day, remember, or learn about the haymarket martyrs, the struggle for the 8 hour day, the weekend, the continued use of sweatshops and child labor around the world, the thousands and thousands who have died on the job, and the general alienation and meaninglessness that most of us feel on the gig.

and then, go out and create an anarcho-syndicalist republic.

it's the least you can do.

what's going on here?

every once in a while, you read about some guy who raped a 90 year old woman. what they don't tell you is that the rapist is often 95.

now, i know a lot of people (people? as if someone was actually reading this other than the government) are gonna get mad at that line, but remember that nothing is sacred except cows.

i just don't understand how someone could be a criminal. who has the time? it's hard enough being an innocent man. imagine being guilty? just think about how long it takes to think of taking part in a crime. then, what crime to try? certainly not the rape of old women, or old men for that matter. beastiality is frowned upon, and would be tough to explain to my relatives. i could rob someone, but they might fight back.

guess i'll just stick to my current agenda.

now, my point isn't to make light of these heinous acts. no one should be violated. all should feel safe. and yet, who is to say what is really a crime? what of bombing people from 30,000 feet in the air? or shooting a black man on his wedding day? or creating culture that dumbs down the public? or polluting the oceans and air? or making food that causes cancer and heart disease? you likely won't find these crimes on the front page of the paper, because the corporation that owns the paper probably takes part in some of them. so, they keep us focused on the freaks, like the man who thinks he is a dvd player.

has anyone stopped to think that a sick society is more likely to create sick people? that a man raping a woman is more likely to come from a country that rapes other countries? we complain of crime in the streets, but what of the crime of war? shouldn't our young think that violence works? they see the government using it every 2 seconds. they see trigger happy police, and war criminals running the country. a country run by hitlers can't expect to produce a populace of mlk's.

the chickens have already come home.

and they have roosted.

and no one, not even 90 year old women, are safe.

welcome to the beginning.

of the end.

that's bigamy

well, it's big of me too. it's big of all of us. let's be big for a change.

this line from groucho comes to mind because a polygamist "compound" (it's always a compound when they want us to think bad of the people being raided. sounds worse than "houses) was recently raided by the authorities.

well, why can't people elect to live together in a polygamist manner? is that really a crime? perhaps it may repulse some of us morally, but doesn't homosexuality, interracial marriage, and even sex before marriage, repulse some of us morally?

and by the way, when will the white house be raided, or the headquarters of the multinational corporations? i don't trust this government to raid anyone when they are the greatest criminals.

while we think long and hard about polygamy, certain countries are being destroyed and certain people, often poor and of color, are being killed. and they are not being killed by polygamists. no, they are being killed by god fearing monogamists.

or maybe they are just plain assholes.

now, when are those guys gonna get raided?

oh yeah, those are the guys doing the raiding. that's the problem.

hey, if you want to legislate morality, then put an end to war, stop polluting the earth, and start punishing some of these klansmen disguised as police officers.

but please, leave these polygamists alone. are they really worse than the majority of americans, who are constantly having affairs and lusting after total strangers? at least their shit is up front.

stop the war, and maybe then i'll get on board against some of this other stuff. but until then, it strikes me as a diversion, a false crime.

power to move, the branch davidians, and to all those who have been raided. your crimes pale in comparison to those who have punished you.

ring my sean bell

when is shooting a man 50 times not a crime? (drum roll)

when the people doing the shooting are cops and when the man getting shot is black. for those still weeping over the oj verdict, i wonder if you will shed a few tears for yet another black man denied both his life by the police and posthumous justice by the courts.

three police officers were found not guilty of murder, though somehow, it was these same three men who fired the shots which killed bell. one of the cops shot at bell 34 times. bell was unarmed. and no, black skin is not a weapon. i wish someone would tell our men in blue that seemingly obvious fact.

bell, by the way, was getting married on the same day that he was shot. well, i suppose this will improve the divorce rate.

furthermore, where are the pro-lifers when people out of the womb are put to death? they all care so much about the fetus, but living, breathing black people being murdered by killers in uniform don't seem to inspire much sympathy from them. the same goes for those killed in our imperial wars. a fetus in a stomach? a human being. a boy bombed in baghdad? an accident. collateral damage. fuck these pro-lifers, and all these other so called christians who do nothing to help the living, but claim to be pro-life.

sean bell will not come back. his life has been taken away from him. and no one will remember. years from now, people will still be bitching about how oj got away with it, but they will not speak of the thousands of white men, both in and out of uniform, who have gotten away with murdering thousands and thousands of black men.

a word about the police. ever notice how they never seem to kill some millionaire in "self defense?" weird how they never seem to "bust a cap" on some child of privilege at harvard or yale. funny how it always seems to be the same people, the poor and people of color, who get this treatment from "america's finest."

i remember a rap group exclaiming "fuck the police." this honkey would like to echo the sentiment. they do the dirty work of the elite, they help to maintain the status quo, and they routinely brutalize the oppressed. and we wonder why the poor folks in the inner city don't trust the cops. they have every right to oppose them.

yet another day is here that i am ashamed to be an american. more to the point, a white american.

and the thing is, no one knows.

no one knows.

and, as i bitch about this one, some young black kid is getting the shit kicked out of him right now by some rednecked cop.

some "innocent" rednecked cop, just doing his job.

protecting "us" from "them."

just doing his job in america in the year 2008.

snipes fire

the front page of the local rag tells me that "wesley snipes gets 3 years for tax evation." before i get into the politics of it, isn't evasion spelled with an s, not a t? is proper spelling too much to ask from a newspaper?

now for the verdict. three years for not paying taxes? what law is there on the books which explicitly states that it is a crime not to pay your taxes? the judge said they wanted to make an example of snipes. what was this, a lynch mob? was snipes accused of raping a white woman? seriously, in the old days, if a black man got too successful for the liking of the white community, he would often be lynched, or at least run out of town. well, throwing a man in jail is certainly one way to run him out of town.

the article later states that the message was likely sent to anti-war protesters who may be thinking of not paying their taxes as a form of protest against the government. well, i wasn't even aware that snipes was doing this, and i have often wrestled with the horror i feel over paying taxes. as far as an example goes, a country that is willing to blow up countries to steal their resources hardly needs to demonstrate any more examples of its "seriousness." just ask fred hampton.

well, i have never been a snipes fan before, but i am now. in the old days they just took your shit. joe louis, redd foxx, sammy davis, george carlin. and that's terrible too. but throwing a man in jail for not paying his taxes? this is nothing short of a racist, militaristic act that is nothing if not fascist.

clarence thomas has spent his whole life playing the game, attempting with all his power to get in with the white establishment. this fact did not stop david tuason from writing thomas a letter stating "i am going to blow up the supreme court building. you will be castrated, shot, or set on fire. i want you killed." damn. this man has done everything short of bleaching his skin to get in. but the thing is, you can never really get in. it may seem like you can, but you can't. the problem with integration is that you integrate into a fucked up structure of hate and stupidity. integration is the right thing, but shallow. an overhaul of the way society thinks, a revolution in education, thought, and society in general, is what is needed.

this same man also wrote a letter to derek jeter. man, if this guy is going after oreos and mulattoes, i'd hate to hear what he has to say about other black people. but again, the white man has always been made furious by a successful black man. you hear it all the time. "these ball players make too much money" or "hip hop is ruining the country." these assholes never seem to complain about bill gates's bank account. they don't seem to get worked up about all the owners being white, the ceo's being white, almost all the rich people being white. no, to them, that is how it should be.

by the way, mariah, if i were you, i would sent your maid out to get the mail. man, what a fucked up country.

bill russell had it right when he said, "during the basketball season, i play center for the boston celtics. during the summer, i'm just another 6-10 black man."

the u.s. (well, i didn't, but i guess something called "the u.s. did) has told president mugabe of zimbabwe that "it's time to give up." what an arrogant fucking culture. of course, america has been telling africans (and indians and asians and mexicans and....) to give up for a long time, so that's not new. supposedly, mugabe recently lost an election, and therefore, our government believes he should step down. this idea of stepping down after losing elections doesn't seem to apply to them however. of course, we should be thankful that the government is only telling mugabe to step down. just ask allende or aristide or arbenz or mossadegh or the millions buried under the earth in southeast asia what this government is capable of once it has decided that a government "should give up."

i wonder if jackie chan ever looks at himself in the mirror and says "is this money worth being a walking chinese stereotype?" is he tormented by what he does? is he intelligent enough to be? or what about that little asian guy on mad tv? does he ever cry over the crimes he is committing against his people? or what of anthony anderson, or martin lawrence?

i'm telling you, diversity in hollywood almost makes you yearn for leave it to beaver.

almost.

questions

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

yes, give the man a winston

sunday i go to churchill and i neil down next to cassidy and pray. also, the line which ends that sequence in which the doc says something like "no one knows who he really is." shit was tight.

i felt like telling the old guy next door that i was david gurney. i wouldn't mind seeing the old guy carried away on a gurney, but some fan of spanish reggae would probably move in and make it worse.

heard the miles version of move from the birth of the cool session on a commercial for the new video of grand theft auto. didn't know whether to be happy or mad.

why, i talk to monsters. i talk to little men from outer space! by the way, i told all of you to build your own bomb shelter when you had the chance. but no, you wouldn't listen. you wanted to spend your extra money on that swingers convention. well, benny goodman ain't gonna help you now!

mike bibby just accused the locals of being fair weather fans, saying they were no where to be found last year when the c's sucked. god, what are they gonna say to him now? go hawks!!

people like to shit on chris webber. i prefer a toilet. seriously, the nba and big money cost the kings the title in 02, not c webb. the man was a damn good, close to great player, especially before his surgery. also, he could actually carry on a coherent conversation, which works in his favor. i think he belongs in the hall of fame. if bill walton can get in only having a couple of good years, why shouldn't webber get in? by the way, stan albeck once said of walton "he fractures his foot every time he steps on a tooth pick."

lou donaldson is blowing mean lines as i blog. this is his first album, entitled "quartet, quintet, sextet." someone must have stayed up all night trying to come up with that one. it is early 50's, and shows that lou was a real bopper in his day. donaldson, by the way, is one of the few jazz greats who is still alive. we should give him some love, although i do confess to not being particularly attracted to 81 year old men. perhaps we can build a platonic relationship. well if you are going to kill me, go ahead, i have to take my platonic at 2! ok, enough monkey business. these re-marx of mine are getting me nowhere.

it seems a tad unfair to me that a woman can read a romance novel on the bus, but a guy can't pull out his copy of the hustler. i've been wanting to see that movie for a while, and today's bus ride would have been a good time for it. yes, the lady can read in-zane tails of assion, while the guy must pull the shade down in shame as he gets into his own particular kind of weird. just lookin for a little consistency here folks.

you winston, you loseston.

ok, i'm not david gurney. i admit it.

i'm the man who thinks he is david gurney.

now, just what was his name?

can i at least be the bartender??

with a little bit of soul

i'm david gurney! don't you understand? i'm david gurney! this man over here, he thinks he is winston churchill. no one knows who he is. but i know one thing. i am david gurney.

at the very least, can tim duncan break a leg? i am tired of those big eyes, and his sincere belief that he has never fouled anyone in his entire career. watching the spurs win championships is like living at the dentist's office. of course, i could always turn the tv off, but i remember what richard pryor said in a film (excuse me, movie, in case irish eddie is reading) once. george jefferson walks into a scene. pryor exclaims "i hate that jive n" (hint; he didn't say negro) his wife says "why don't you turn it off then?" pryor retorts "i spent 300 hundred dollars for that tv, i'm watchin every motherfuckin thing that comes on!!" yes, we live our lives based on certain good lines we have seen in movies. well, what else do you expect from david gurney? at least the monsters are alive and well on maple street.
someone actually traded the van gelder edition of "here comes louis smith." well, it pissed me off anyway. anytime you can get buckshot la funke as a sideman, you should keep that album.

time enough at last, if only he had a working pair of glasses. perhaps it was his own fault for not making more contacts with the outside world, but my eyes don't see it that way. this same man was also ruled obsolete. "you are obsolete! how do the people rule? obsolete obsolete obsolete!" that word looks funny, did i spell it richard right? for i am a native, son, an outsider who never really learned how to wright. ah, only the bald win.

save me. not you jesus. your record doesn't impress me. so far, 7,897,564,875 people have tried to be saved by jesus. a large percentage of these people are now dead. others have become homosexuals and peter sellers of bootleg dvd's. jesus may save, but who starts the game? a good starter should go 7 strong innings eight days a weak. you can't beatle these lines. being saved is all well and good, but how do i keep from needing to be saved in the first place? perhaps by never trying the heroin? i, for one, don't have much faith in michaelangelo's cousin. paul mooney tells us "jesus was black and so was cleopatra." well, fuck him too. i didn't think he was so hip, and the rest of his body wasn't much to look at either. jesus was likely a tan fellow, perhaps a distant relative of amy tan. well, it's a tan to one shot, but anything is possible, kim. jesus is asked to do so much. for a guy who couldn't get off a cross, this seems like a lot of pressure to me. now, i'm not knockin the man, in fact, i admire his stealth body, flowing hair, and light laundry bill. seriously, the man was a monster, on or off of maple street. look, i'm not trying to be syrupy, i'm just telling it like it is, unlike neville chamberlain, who had a tendency to wilt under the pressure of 20,000 young ladies screaming for peace with germany.

death to tyrants. had to tie this rant in with the others. oh, so much to say, but such little skill in which to say it with. i am a hopeless romantic.

i used to say i was a trisexual. i would try anything. i also said i was a bisexual. i said bye to sex a long time ago. sadly, it was not of my own choosing. luckily, this has been rectumfied. a homosexual is someone who has sex at home. this makes sense to me.

hell is other people, said john paul,not sean paul. sasha a deal? i tried to dance my way around that one.

i am in the twilight zone, area code silberg

just remember pinko,

that the planet isn't going anywhere. we are! a thousand memories hath september. a thousand mammories hath dolly parton, but that's for another anita o'day. tonight will not swing, tonight is for serious. i see it now, though i am not yet in the september of my years. oh, i am the man in the looking glass. once upon a time, it was a very good year, but now, the end is near. oh, if there were only peace. this is all i ask, as i sing this september song.

hello, young lovers out there. i realize this is a far cry from what you were expecting, but this a journey outward bound to a land of discovery.

earth day? man, the earth can't even get a month, huh? in truth, it can't even get a minute away from our murderous culture of waste. my solution? let's all go back to tap water, bring our own bag to the market, and join the army.

i am babbling again. oh, earth, we have dirtied you. we are foul, worse than fowl, as ortiz hits a foul ball on one channel and nash gets called for a foul on the other. ah, the whole thing is offensive. if i just had three seconds away from it all, a short time out, but alas, the game must go on.

life, a game that we all seem to lose at.

the road to success..

don't raise your voice
don't express any opinion on any issue
major in management
accept any indignity. this is known as maturity.
listen to the same awful music and watch the same stupid shows as the others
say movie instead of film
be a racist but use the term african american
root for the best team
never blame the refs
waive the flag
think music began with the beatles
buy a house
buy a second house
hate child molesters more than you hate war
pay taxes
watch reality tv


to this man, i say this..

you are the enemy.

go fuck yourself.

and send me the tape.

the headmaster as pacific islander

it is a shame that rod serloin got into porn. what a talent. yes, if i am ever accused of being mo lester young, i want the firm booty of serling, bennett, and debs to defend me. chico was willing "to spend up to a 15 dollars, but i no coulda get nobody to defend me." so he fought the ty law, and lawyer milloy won.

pinko, close the door, ham, and light a candle to save money on the electric bill. anyone who does this is not factoring in the cost of the eye surgery, or the candles for that matter. if you really want to save bread, why not just rest in the pendergrass, and be my teddy bear?

oh, you sprained your pelvis? excuses, excuses! don't give me that hound dog look! quick, you can still be my good luck charm. i know you are all shook up at the moment, but that is what happens when you are in the ghetto. just ask yourself this...are you loan some tonite? well. you can borrow a 20 from me if you really need it, just make sure that you return it to sender. look, i know you feel that you are caught in a trap, but that is just because you have a suspicious mind. remember, it is now or never. people are getting tired of loving you tender. you need to toughen up, or else you will be carving rocks in some jail house. you heard it here first.

you know, bennett might seem corny after dolphy, but it gets to me. i really think he was the real deal. in fact, for easy listening/jazz/adult pop singers, i go with sinatra, cole, bennett, and sammy.

if you say sam davis, or jack gleason, it seems like a completely different person, doesn't it?

i have corny tastes. i finally fully admitted that. i don't get much out of classic rock, and i haven't heard much hip hop that has impressed me, although i still mourn over the break up of 3rd bass. i thought they were safe, by the way. but yes, i am basically a jazz man. i like some blues and r and b, but they both have to be from the 1960's or before. i also haven't heard much jazz over the last 30 or so years that has done anything for me. classical can be nice, but it usually doesn't kill me. i'm not much for country, although i do confess to liking ray price's version of "for the good times" (god, that really makes me sound corny! maybe i can get a gig as a jolly green giant impersonator? ah, i would probably be too short.) cash is money, especially when he wears the johnny black. folk bores me, although i like the idea of it. dylan, baez, seeger, all good people, but i don't need their records. to me, house is still a place to live in, and grunge is when you need a shave. i am not out of step. i am miles behind, listening to miles ahead. blues for pablo neruda is particularly poetic, although i find the arrangement a little chile.

wasn't it the irish? bullshit! (speaker looks around, like a scared ed child)

pinko knows the story, but maybe someone else will read this. a man is speaking at an anti- war rally, a man who "liked hummus and other strange sounding foods," when someone from the audience contests one of his points. the mood turns dark, and then ivon dixon shows up as a reverend. strike that last remark from the record. in any case, they begin to argue, and the speaker says with great authortity "you're a stupid man!" at this, the other man makes a move to attack the speaker. the speaker quickly switches gears, and says "you're not stupid, you're dog is stupid."

now, let us think about this for a moment. what did the dog do to deserve this insult? he wasn't even involved in the argument! furthermore, what if the man didn't have a dog? would the speaker have said "you're not stupid, you're watch is stupid" or "you're not stupid, that woman over there is stupid?" the speaker was obviously lucky that the man owned a dog. in any case, the whole thing was rather unfortunate. by the way, the dog has yet to receive a formal apology.

and, that's a wrap, until i sandwich in something else.

i can blog from the gig again

and so i am doing it.

i was standing in line about to order soft serve ice cream, when i thought, "what if i asked for the chubby checker? what would he say?" of course, i wanted a twist, a vanilla/chocolate mix. but then, if i asked for it that way, everyone else would too. it would have had a fats domino effect.

my week off is coming soon. just have to get through 2 and a half more hours.

i haven't heard any more loud music since tuesday. hopefully, that was a fluke.

by the way, a coworker of mine just said he thought the who were much better than the beatles. but what of the guess who? guess who liked them? be my guest, christopher, and tell me. an american woman who shared her land, that's who.

pinko, on youtube, heard a tune from the other record that dolphy made with the latin jazz quintet, an extremely rare album. hint; the tune was recorded many years ago on the back of a garbage can. blakey said that when the tune got too old, he would play some younger ones. it was the first time he enjoyed a record session, although the tenent upstairs, told him "close the door, ham, your band is too loud."

tony bennett's version of "once upon a time." killer. van gogh, dig it, also on youtube. the still shot of him from the 70's is worth it by itself. also, his "if i ruled the world." amazing. dig how he holds the final note for at least 10 seconds. this man was a singer! he could sell a song. in a lesser man's hands, these songs would be trite, silly, but tony makes them real. no one could sing "once upon a time" and make you believe it like that. well, sinatra. but don't sleep on bennett. he was a monster.

it is actually evening now. the debs bio has been great, but it is scott nearing the end. what a man he was, steadfast in his socialist and anti-war views, even when it meant prison. we will not see his kind again.

just watched a twilight zone on youtube, the one where the store dummy over stays her break from her gig. rod serling is another guy that will not be replaced.

serling, bennett, debs.

there have been some decent crackers after all.

the only thing left for me is to put on the ritz. well, that's entertainment, but i prefer being alone together, and though it never was you, who cares? for no matter how long this has been going on, just you and just me are more than enough. (editors note...these last few lines are filled with looney tunes from judy garland's "that's entertainment" album.) i know i am a daffy bird to mention these songs, and while i realize no playboy bunny will be impressed with this knowledge, sometimes i have to pig out on puns, for the fact is, they are the elmer's glue that holds this whole goofy, mickey mouse operation together.

issan came back to visit. he graduated last year. the first thing he did was brag about his new car. the model? a nissan. issan drives a nissan. some of this shit you can't make up. then, he went into an intricate critique of the war on terror. that is some shit you can make up.

bring em home.

and try them for war crimes.

new post, same war

"vote for debs. don't try to decide the election. don't choose between the two evils. vote for that sweet, good, passionate lover of mankind who offers hope and service, and leave the rest to god and the rest of us."

"i will vote for debs as a protest and as an encouragement to the third party idea. i couldn't vote for either of the other parties."

lincoln steffens on voting for debs. make of these quotes what you will.

no mention made of my giving out answers. i knew i liked ugly betty.

a student today on turning 18 and being able to vote. "the candidates they say a lot of shit but they never help the poor. all they do is help the rich. fuck the rich. the rich lick ass." best political commentary i've heard in a while.

listening to rollins and dizzy play a slow blues called "sumphin." it's from an album called duets but luckily does not include an 80 year old sinatra performing with bono. stitt is also on it. pinko, i must send this to you at some uncertain future date, before the power elite brings us to the precipice of destruction.

they still really haven't found something to replace the orgasm, have they?

when you think of it, the students are right in all their arguments with teachers...

the material is boring and has no connection to their daily lives.
they are not allowed to be themselves.
their knowledge is not incorporated into their learning.
teachers are often shallow, ignorant, racist, and just plain boring.

and, it's all bullshit.

they will learn of andrew johnson, but never be told of tina brooks. they will learn science out of a book while the earth around them remains unexplored, and is destroyed with each passing second. they work on math but are never asked to add the dead bodies. they take music classes without listening to music. they are still taught that reconstruction was a failure, that john brown was a maniac, and worse, they are taught nothing at all of so much of the truth. a somali kid just came into the room today and said how great black hawk down was. just like an indian rooting for the cowboys. we offer them nothing than criticize the results. we expose them to nothing and then degrade the little they have been able to find out on their own.

same old deal.

we are fucked.

now say cheese...

click.

the picture never changes.

just look around.

dem bow is the shit???

thanks for the comments on ray being gay, but his orientation taint no body's concern but his.

cey pinko, i have had a request from tixon to have "the pupil as negro" removed from the blog. i realize this is a heinous act of unmitigated censorship, but i would prefer a peaceful evening, so thanks for your understanding. in it's place, you could perhaps post a picture of "the student as eskimo."

i have become a real grouch. euphemistically, i am an old soul, but in truth, i hate everything that moves. i also hate those standing still.

all music has declined over the years. think about it. rock, jazz, blues, gospel, classical, country, rap, latin, even japanese hip hop has gotten much worse since 4 hours ago. we can't seem to come up with anything new.

i told a joke in biology class today. a student laughed and said i was a "fungi."

got bagged giving answers today in biology. teacher asked "what are you doing?" i should have replied "giving out answers," but remembered the rent is due at the first of the month, and grew pensive. she let it go. hopefully it will not be mentioned tomorrow. hey, what can i say? helping students cheat is one of the perks of the gig.

where has flowers for algernon gone? she really booked on out of here.

after i read it, i went for a separate piece of ass, but i realized that i am a one woman man, so i didn't finish.

i talk to people and they still talk about getting certificates and finding something they want to do. none of them ever say attack the white house. once i realize this, i ignore them and throw in a well placed uh huh every 15 to 20 seconds. it has worked so far.

i will get a week off starting monday. on monday, we will have the boston marathon. i don't follow it too closely, but something tells me 7 africans will separate themselves from 40,000 white people three minutes into the race, and a guy from kenya will eventually win.

and i won't be there protesting the war.

but pinko, we will always have the memory.

thought i would sandwich in a rap

when mos def people speak to me, i become akon man, and play it cool, j. i pretend that i know what they are saying. by the way, i don't think our government sould snoop, dogg, or use mase on us. it is they who are the public enemy, and while i realize that many of you would run dmc who tells the truth out of the country for fighting the power, i still believe it needs to be done. flo, we got to get rida this system of ours. personally, if i had a mc hammer, no one would be able to touch the revolt. but alas, i am weak. perhaps i need dr dre to give me a check up? i knew i shouldn't have smoked tupac a cigs a day. but cig freed me, while the music of roy hamilton convinced me that i would never walk alone. speaking of which, walk dmc was a good group, but their songs were just a hair too slow.

well, that was my 50 cent for the day, i don't have time for breakfast, so i'll probably just grab a pack of eminems. you can still get them for peanuts. then, i will board the bus and listen to the immortal technique of trane. perhaps i will strike up a conversation with miss elliot, who always sits in the front.

sometimes, it seems that we are all just waiting for the grand master to come back to us in a flash.

gordon, it ain't happening.

yo, that's a rap.

the hispanic as a listener of loud music

my quiet home is under attack. for the first time since i moved, people are blasting music. it is apparently a party across the street from me, complete with out door stereo. and the sad thing is, no one ever blasts gene ammons. but, it's a kind of catch 22, for if you are hip enough to dig gene ammons, you are too hip to blast music or throw a party. ah, the mystery of it all.

hopefully, these young whippersnappers will quiet it down, because with the summer coming, parties and loud music could really mess things up.

someone should tell these christians that god loves silence. in fact he prefers the sound of silence to the sound of music. this is so obnoxious that i may need to cut this blog short. they are playing this spanish reggae crap that has become quite popular recently. they will likely go to their graves never having heard of candido, or mango, but they are very good at ruining my night. another annoying thing is when they stop the tune and then put it back on 10 seconds later. why did they have to stop it? and if they felt they should stop it, what inspired them to put it back on again?

why do people want others to hear their music, like those guys blasting out of their cars? drive!! and what's up with the bass? a song is more than a blaring bass!

you want to like people, you know? but they make it so damn hard! why can't they just sit peacefully by themselves and listen to music, or talk? what is this thing with volume and noise?

shakespeare had it right..."we are full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

my only hope is this is a fluke, a birthday party or some special occasion. i also hope that someone else other than me will stand up to them if it continues. that someone else will complain, or call the police, or kick their ass.

come on people!

at least let out a good yell as you are being raped.

blues for walls

it could be worse. i could be working for the allison mann, for boss charlie chan.

new firsts. are there old ones? this is the first time i have blogged lying flat on my stomach. i think i can feel those beans from two knights ago that i ate at a round table. in my attempt to seize the day, i finished the beans, and in an act of great chivalry, waited until i gott to my parents house and saw richard before i unleashed a stink that may well be unequalled in the 21st century. as they say, shit happens. speaking of which, my one regret in life is that i did not major in paleofeces when i had the chance. the study of old fecal matter is a matter of great concern, if you don't mind my saying so.

a man goes to new york in search of a blow job, as he is currently unemployed. he sees a hooker, and says "soho, how much do you charge for head?" with over head, it's 45 dollars.

happiness is just a thing called joe six pack. grin and beer these jokes for as long as you can.

listening to eastern sounds by lateef. one of the great albums. and no one will ever know. not enough time to learn. rock of love is on.

i was gonna slipper a 5, but she gave me the boot. they weren't made for walkin, so i took the bus. you mae call me a nancy, but with your hazel eyes, you should talk. so, say something.

i cherish our association. us youngbloods need to continue to get together, or else, life will be kind of a drag, and the sunshine of our collective love will be creamed by the hate that surrounds us. hence, we will not be able to get any satisfaction. ah, let it be, for what can be done? at the moment, i exist in a ball of confusion, as ambiguous temptations overwhelm me. i am seemingly at war wih myself, and as i look above me, i see an essentially edwin starr-less sky. i see four, tops, but aren't there millions of starrs, kay? i refuse to turn the patti page and drive the vicki carr away from bob hope. and yet, what is a manne to do who is a shelley of his former self. what can i be, a milos forman? by george, that is not my style, and while i know that it is said that when you are in rome, you should do as roman polanski does, i would rather press my luck and knock on woody allen. mel, i brooks you no grudges, but i will stay in the saddle and go out in a fit of blazing glory before i sell my sole and admit de-feet. emmanuel, kant you see that i am a shoe in if i toe the line. buddy, i could become rich. perhaps if i shouted adrienne at the top of my lungs, but i am too sly for such nonsense, and no matter how rocky the road, i won't cell out. i have my ion what is important. if i am going to helen a hand basket, i do so with my luther head held high, for i would rather listen to cannonball than shoot houston rockets at people. these lines come to me in the spurs of the moment.

peace, is it too much to ask for?

bertrand, russell up some more readers for me. i implore you. this madness needs a greater following. i am crying out, but only the silence hears me. an unheard echo. perhaps i will make craigs list, if ehlo agrees. if not, i will have to keep the others at ebay. maybe i should ask jeeves for advice? or maybe i should just email it in?

you yahoos out there, hang in.

for god and country.

will the blog live on?

now that the chairman can blog from home, will the blog's subtle genius (so subtle in fact, that it has yet to be detected) remain? or will the chairman be this century's joseph heller?

and when can you blog. is it ok to blog after sex? what about after an argument? can fielding still get his glove on the ball in such an environment? a lot is on the line, and yet, nothing is on the line, except the line. that was not much of a line, so if you want to drop me a line to say you are feeling fine, that would be fine.

see, this is what worries me. the rambling, rose. i am afraid i will be left out in the cole if such lines continue.

idea for a story...a man wakes up and finds that he is in his own bedroom and his girlfriend is next to him. he gets up, brushes his teeth, goes to work.

ah, the blog. what became of it? it used to mean something. it had direction. once it told me to take a left on commonwealth ave. it was right. hey, i'm being straight with you. i could have been tony naro, but i decided not to be. decide is 45 degrees. outside it is 47 degrees.

so, it looks like the end. i can feel it. wait a second, that's my penis. my fault. this blog, where did it go? i can see the end, and unfortunately, it doesn't have much shape. it is flat, not round. the church was right after all. the world is flat. it ain't happening. and neither is this sorry blog. cyborg used to have it. his words used to have punch, power. now, he is just a punk. he became a part of the system. computer at home, cable tv, a steady pay check. no more does he fight himself on the train. (by the way, it was a draw, and a pretty picture at that.) he has taken the bus to nowhere.

everything becomes a part of the system. i want to cry naomi wolf, for it was she who said that the blog is our strongest advantage, our most important weapon. i only wish i liked heroin as much as she does. so, don't cry wolf, and don't cry for me argentina. rather, get out on the highway, and step on it, wolf, before francis sees you, and gets blue. on that note, i will take an ike, perhaps to quebec, for i'm a dreamer, montreal?

i stand on guard for thee.

oh, blog, you will be ruined. you will be overexposed. you will die. and yet, you will live. how ironic. how i, ron, rick. well i must pack my bags and head for the trane, for it is time for me to vengco. as always, i will ron away from my problems. i will skirt the issue. you can dress it up anyway you like, but the naked truth remains. on the realberg, my shit is sick. call me the son of sick realberg, the edwin starr of david. war? it ain't berry good, johnny. it's time we make a mclean break from it and go back to the woods. america, put your cannonballs down. take the trane, support your local art farmers and taylors. we need to be like monks. away with living like dukes and counts. if you want to get a woody, fine, but this obsession with sex must go. we need to be humble, even if it means that we hum bull. it's ok if you don't know the tune.

at least acknowledge the music that is all around you. don't just stitt around. get up, and clap your hands. for life is not all black and white, but rather, much of it is wardell gray. see the subtlety. embrace it, my sweet, embraceable you. well, it wasn't a great line, but you gershwin some, and you lose some. if i had a kern for every bad pun, i'd be a rich manne, buddy. well, ring my bell son, cause i'm done. i've taken it to the max, and while it may not be high art, it beats a lot of stuff.

and now, the end is near, and so i face the final curtain.

well, they beat blinds.

chris botti of war

a new movie is out called body of war. it is about a soldier who enlists shortly after 9/11 to "get bin laden" but ends up in iraq. 5 days later, he is badly wounded and returns to the states. he slowly learns more, and becomes an anti-war activist.

sounds good, right? but, i've got to tell you, i am getting tired of this kind of story. here's why.

the guy is always let off the hook for being an idiot. he enlisted shortly after 9/11. is this a good thing? did he have any knowledge of u.s. foreign policy? it's not like the truth is hidden in some cave somewhere.

the guy is always a white guy from the "heartland," a "simple" fellow we are all supposed to identify with. he believed in his government, and they lied to him. we are supposed to see him as a hero, a warrior who was misused. he is not at fault. the fact that he joined an institution whose main purpose is to drop bombs on people is glossed over. fuck these dumb heartland guys. i don't identify with them. they tend to be a big part of the problem. their religion, their politics, and their blind patriotism, help to drive the idiocy of this society. it's too bad this guy had to get wounded to learn the truth, but is this the real tragedy?

what about the people being bombed? what does it say about a society that can't seem to make an anti-war movie about them? this guy, sad as his story is, went to a country that he didn't belong in, and got his ass kicked. but what of all the iraqis killed by this guys "brothers?" his simple minded co-workers helped to destroy iraq, and yet, even when we oppose the war, we continue to focus on the pain and tragedy of the conqueror. the nazi soldier had it rough too. hundreds of thousands of them froze and starved in the soviet union. but, if you were making a film about the german invasion of russia, shouldn't the film focus on the tragedy inflicted on the russian people? and shouldn't an anti-war film about the iraq war focus on the devastation inflicted on the iraqi people? this is not an american tragedy. this war is not something that is happening to us. this is something that we are doing to the iraqi people. if you don't keep that central in your mind, you are privileging the americans, you are favoring their pain, emphasizing their sadness. in short, you are behaving like an american.

so yes, i am tired of focusing on the injured soldier. i am tired of thinking about the pain of white american soldiers in a world being devastated by american soldiers. i am tired of anti-war activists who never seem to have time for the "other side."

body of war? no, just the body of an ignorant white motherfucker who learned too late the criminality of the society he foolishly elected to serve.

meanwhile, the rest of wait for a real anti-war film.

just so you know, i may go to see this.

what else is out there?

as i was getting ready to blog,

i saw the names of other blogs flashing on the screen. one said "deluxe teen models." the cops are never there when you need them, unless they are trying to capture the friedman's bureau. they fought a civil war in which their were no innocents, and then got together and played "guilty" from the "bluesy burrell" album.

over the last three weeks, people of nigerian, filipino, and australian descent (none of them decent) have all been voted off american idol. who is voting, the klan?

there is a librarian here who looks like olive oil. i told her enraged boyfriend when they were breaking up that there should be "no blood for olive oil." last i heard, he was living in the middle east, thought he forgot to pakistan getz record during the move. somehow the record ended up in a john in africa.

i am tired of people talking about hair and skin color and this one being fat and i want to get those new jordan's. these kids really need to shut up and realize just how hopeless the whole damn thing is.

i was gonna take a shit but i didn't want to be arrested. that would have pissed me off.

i actually read once "that during the 1960's and the rise of black militancy, singer gene mcdaniels changed his name to eugene mcdaniels." nothing more radical than adding an eu to the front of your name. i was expecting something like wali x. of course, he was born eugene. that's his name!

also at this time, the basketball player wally jones legally changed his name to wali jones. now that's a sense of humor.

as far as black power goes, i like black, but i have never been a fan of power, but maybe that's because whites have always had it. they said ali represented black power, and yet he complained that the women in zaire "didn't have enough white in their blood." now he does the twist daly, chuck, quicker than brown.

you know, it's amazing how racist the anti-racists are, never mind the actual bigots.

what's worse, leave it to beaver, or soul plane?

neither.

the international answer (act now to stop war and end racism) is this blog.

darryl strawberry fields forever, but he no longer hits

happiness is just another picture of joe frazier. as i attempt to fight my way out of this box, and one like frank sinatra is often all that sounds good, i remember other things. things like a babbling brooks, a wall of green, and i see vs coming toward to me. oh, i say to her, if you, wendy, were dairy queen and i were burger king of all this world, we could live in a white castle and fry the french. yes, let's toast to that thought.

i remember walking through the north end, the italian part of town, and seeing through a store window a shirt which read (well, a shirt can't actually read) "france sucks." i suppose this refers to the fact that the french were not quite as high on blowing up iraq. another one read "first iraq, then france." iraq my brains to think of a dumber sentiment, and all i could come up with was "papa's got a brand new baghdad." well, i haven't been worthy for so long that james looks brown to me.

my one regret in life is life itself.

sometimes it seems that the only time i am awake is when i'm asleep.

my one regret in life is not being a revolutionary. i enjoy going to the library and listening to ike quebec too much to change the world. that, and i'm a lousy fighter. before len barry could count 1 2 3, the revolt wood be over, and in the nick of time, i may add.

fish filled with mercury. and pluto water. and mars almond bars. and inside the stomach of venus williams. serena-ty now. what a racket this blog is. well, it's really a double fault; mine for writing, and yours for reading it. well, i do it out of love. it is my service. it is my hope that it will net us something. in the meantime guy, forget. seles something else. perhaps a cannonball. but in the end, remember that we are all nats being bugged by the man. charlie knows all, but the people didn't know nothing about him. they are for the birds. i don't mean to dog them, but there aren't too many hip cats around anymore. just a bunch of sheep on the lamb, and i ain't lion.

at least i haven't had to look for an apartment for close to a year.

enjoy college. it may be the last time you are near people who think. and the girls and free food and lack of a job aren't bad either. but, remember the debt, and the recruiters. well, everything sucks, but some things suck less. gravitate toward those things. and for the life of you, try to stay away from dumb white motherfuckers.

and pray.

in case someone is really there.

and then ask him to explain what the fuck happened.

i can't help but feel that the fault lies with the manufacturer.

unfortunately, we have thrown out the receipt.

and so, we are stuck with the results.

it ain't pretty folks.

now!

no one will admit it, but a good shit is one of the great pleasures in life.

mccain went to the hotel where king was shot to supposedly pay tribute to his legacy. between you and me, i have a suspicion that he was showing how he pulled it off. take that, email spies!

i keep waiting, waiting on the world to change. the only thing that gets changed is my underwear. it is now worn on the outside, so they can check. that line was made to money order.

my job had no more meaning today than it had last week, but i showed up anyway. the landlord, i find, is not nearly as hung up on meaning as i am.

i just picked up the rachel corrie book, "let me stand alone." the usual light reading to keep me in fine spirits. works every time.

i handed out that flyer in class today that says the war in iraq costs 720 million dollars a day. somehow, it's always an even number. like, they will say that the dinosaurs lived 65 million years ago, but they have been saying that for decades. change the numbers! in the interests of fairness, today the war cost 719,989,786 dollars. it also cost 200 iraqis, 2 americans, a bridge over a troubled ocean, and a hospital.

yes, i am still miserable. stop asking.

no one ever seems to mention homosexuality as a viable cure for overpopulation. just trying to be helpful.

before i die, i would like to hear at least one more good singer. you know, someone who doesn't sound as if his balls were being surgically removed without pain killers. singing is a lost art, as is peace.

my only hope is that tomorrow will be a little less disgusting than today. forever the optimist.

just saw a guy i used to go to high school with. literally. he just walked up to me. we rapped for a few minutes. some old public enemy tunes. i was chuck d. as always, it felt surreal, artificial, and i couldn't wait for him to get the fuck out of my face.

alas, misery does not love company.

by the way, i have written all of this with a smile. so, my friends, be of good cheers, and come out smoking like frazier. when i give you the seinfeld, be ready.

now!

and the shit goes on

in science today, they were playing a game about dominant and recessive genes. they were determining, through the flip of a coin, what their babies would look like. one group went crazy when they heard their baby would be dark brown. i know, i know, slavery happened a long time ago. i thought i'd let you know anyway.

think about it, this is a class full of special needs students, but they still know what color you are supposed to be in this country. sad, sad. a good teacher would have challenged them on their racism, but we don't have those in this country, because in order to have good teachers, you would have to have good people, and we don't have good people. we have a bunch of fuckheads who have accepted and gloried in the prejudices of our society, and who persist on passing them down to the following generations. believe me when i tell you that the only hope is the lady on days of our lives. furthermore, j, the hip hop cracker, was the most devastated of all when he heard the news that his "baby" would be dark brown. you see, the hip hop cracker is still a cracker, and his bigotry doesn't evaporate as his rap collection deepens.

today, in history class, the teacher described the radical republicans during reconstruction as "far right." in fact, they were perhaps the most far left politicians in u.s. history. the ignorance is astounding. i am surrounded by a bunch of shitheads. meanwhile, i am reading the new edition of lies my teacher told me, and loewen behold, a lot of good stuff has been added.

what a racist, dumb, boring place schools are, filled with rules and gossip and meaningless classes taught by brain dead teachers. these teachers know nothing. they exude no intellectual curiosity, have no integrity, no passion, and little else. i'm tired of hearing about how teachers are underpaid. they work 10 months a year, 6 to 7 hours a day. they have built in free time during the day, and get vacations and holidays every 5 seconds. fuck them. for every one good teacher, there are 100 stiffs. they help to keep us ignorant, they bore us, they keep us locked in while the sun shines on others. i hate to be described as a teacher. i'm just a guy trying to pay the rent who doesn't know what else to do. i'm just a guy who doesn't want to work in a mine shaft. i'm just a guy. teacher? teach yourself! and to do that, you need free time, the very thing that school takes from you. fuck school, and everything that it leads to; jobs, more school, proms, graduations, ap classes, rotc. fuck all that shit. you show me someone in school and i'll show you someone being killed by this society.

i repeat, we are doomed.