you can rum but you can't hide

i am getting ready to play disc 2 of the art blakey band live at birdland with clifford brown and lou donaldson, (both volumes 1 and 2 are astounding and i strongly recommend them both) when i am sent on a rum run and a chicken broth journey. i head to the local co op, which as far as i know, i have no control over. i grab the cheapest phillip broth i can find, but to my dismay, i discover that the check out line is as long as tom jones's penis. i angrily depart and head to the library, where i am currently blogging.

next up is the rum. a couple of minutes ago, i just realized that i left my license to kill at the eddie house. even though i have archie moore hair than king kong, i am afraid they are going to bacardi me.

agh! i haven't heard clifford brown so long that i am starting to think of playing a grant green record instead. god, where have all the idle moments gone?

ok, i got to get back out there.

maybe i'll play out there.

what's the use? by the time, i get home, i'll probably be too george tuckered out to be able to concentrate on it. perhaps i'll make the obligatory phone call to ron not carter pinko instead.

freddie, i'm not ready for 08. the years just seem to get shorter and shorter.

until next time.

i better rum.

happy jew year

this title satisfies in three ways...
it's a pun
i'm a jew
i couldn't think of a better title

the new year is here. i sit in the local library, while a crazy looking merle haggard guy plays a parton making me want to get up and get the hell out of here. but, the blog aj muste go on.

i have a problem. i want to see my fbi file but i don't want to pay for it. any suggestions? if you get the file, and it's empty, are you happy that it's empty or are you pissed that they don't consider you more of a threat? i thought when i considered legally changing my name to david atta that they might get a little concerned. rats.

i might get thai food tonite to celebrate new year's. should i dress up? should i wear a tie while i eat thai food? or should i watch a boxing match that ended in a tie? perhaps, i should just draw, or read the color purple. or better yet, maybe i should take a walker with alice through some meadows, and then head to a garland after drinking a glass of red wine with george wein.

how to ring in the new year? should i watch lord of the rings, or try to get lord hampton a new trial? should i praise the lord, or take a tripp with linda to the hamptons? should i start a flowers collection with gennifer, or take a tom cruise on the hudson river with my dream girl jennifer? we could sail beyonce the blue horizon. i could take a boat trip in the atlantic ocean with a carribean queen, or get into a car with my friend and listen to billie holiday. should i even celebrate this hoilday? if i go out, there are liable to be a lot of strange fruits and lover men helen reddy to piss me off. of course, everything could be fine and mellow, but why take the chance? larry tells me i should stay holmes. perhaps, that would be travis best.

the last time i went out for new years, i got stuck in an irish bar and had to listen to a bunch of short dicked, red faced, drunken fascists chant "usa usa" as the clock struck 12. i wonder, stevie, if any of those guys, none of whom are my buddies, have enlisted in the army. come on guys, go ahead and act on your patriotism. i hear those electric wheel chairs are getting better. stupid white motherfuckers.

2008? i hope for a year without bombs. a year when the hungry are fed, the homeless are housed, the sick are cured, and the ignorant get the shit kicked out of them.

crap, i think i'm waking up now.

to my readers. keep it reel. the question is, will it be life of brian for the 1st time or bananas for the 20th?

i hope the new year finds you either sleeping or having sex.

peace.

on walking down the street, waiting for the train, and chomsky

i am walking down mass ave on my way to the train stop of the same name, when a young asian woman stops me. despite the fact that she is well dressed, she asks me "for a nickel, a penny, anything." She even offers me a quarter for a penny. she then notices that i am reading a book. "what are you reading?" she asks. i tell her that it is a book on class inequality in the u.s. stunned, she goes, "are you in college? why are you reading that? are you interested in that?" she then explains that her father is a multi-millionaire. she explains to me that she didn't realize that class was an issue in this country. i find 7 cents in my pocket and wish her a good day. she asks me if i need a dollar. i walk away. weird.

five minutes later, i am waiting for the train at the mass ave t stop to go to my parents house. a west indian or african guy notices that i am reading a book. unfortunately, it is the same book. again, i explain its contents. he begins to explain that he is a "pragmatist" and that the "rich should attempt to help the poor." i state that there shouldn't be billionaires while there are millions of homeless and hungry. this sets him off. "what, you want to take my money?" i ask if he's a billionaire, and if so, why is he taking the train? he momentarily calms down, and explains that the rich "have worked hard for what they have." he says "look at tom brady. you don't think he worked hard to get where he is?" i ask him if he thinks brady works harder than a coal miner or a garbage collector. he then switches to talking about "you are paid for the influence you have, not just how hard you work." i ask him how much influence rich inheritors have over our society. running out of arguments, he asks me "are you a communist?" i reply, in a seinfeld vain, "who are you, joe mccarthy? i didn't realize i was being grilled by the house unamerican activities committee." shortly after this, the train comes, and i make sure to get on a car far away from the grand inquisitor.

were these people just random crazies, or was i being followed? in any case, it's ironic that they were both people of color. the second exchange brings to mind an old sanford and son joke. fred, stuck in jail for unknowingly getting involved in a porn film, is asking the guard for a favor. the guard, who is black, declines. fred says, "hey man, what kind of brother are you? you must be a west indian."
i'll have to remember to not read any more books about class in public. i guess it hits a little too close to home. god forbid that we try to learn about the extent of american inequality.

yesterday, i finished yet another chomsky book. yet again, he stressed how we live in a very free society and that there is very little danger in speaking out against injustice in the u.s. if this is so, why was fred hampton murdered in his bed? if this is so, why was mlk killed shortly after he spoke out against the vietnam war and began to incorporate a more radical class analysis into his work? if this is so, why were the black pathers, aim, the iww, the weather undergound, the new left, and others brutally attacked, infiltrated, imprisoned, and even killed by the forces of the state? if this is so, why is mumia in jail? if this is so, why is leonard peltier in jail? if this is so, why was george jackson murdered? if this is so, why were huey newton and abbie hoffman driven mad by persecution? if this is so, why was lenny bruce hounded by the authorities and arrested for saying schmuck in public? if this is so, why were sacco and vanzetti executed? i could go on, but i think the point is clear.

if people like chomsky are not attacked by the forces of the state, maybe that should make us think about how just how ineffective chomsky's work is. the state is not "coercing" him because they don't need to.

a free society?

ask those buried by our bombs and languishing in our prisons.

free for who?

i have a can do attitude

remember that lame expression? or "life is hard. deal with it?" if you need it, i will give you 30 seconds to puke.
why am i blogging at this moment? the ballads of ben webster and the cool sound of coleman hawkins await while i sit at my local library. when the new webster's dictionary comes out, don't forget to check for the picture of yours truly under the word "insanity."
i must remember to only get bored with a board game when i am ahead. otherwise, the entire contribution i make to my household may be temporarily nullified. furthermore, i will get frustrated, and i will have to pee every 5 minutes, and i won't fall asleep until 3 in the morning. alonzo, it is no fun to be in your shaq under those conditions. eventually, you begin to wilt under the pressure, because you are not a kidd anymore. in time, the magic in your relationship returns, and the tension you were feeling flies away like a bird. and then, a feeling of peace comes back to you, which, is of course, just what the doctor j ordered. it is unfortunate that we sometimes have to wade through rocky marciano moments. i will have you know that aaron pryor to this tension, all was going orson welles, and appears to be going david wells again. otis, i guess it is the same old birdsong and dance, but in the end, the nets gain is mine. for on my own, i would likely be stuck eating frozen chicken patti labelle's, for i am not much of a sam cooke. life would not be a marvin gaye old time for me. furthermore, the only connection i would have to good lovin is when the tune of that name by the rascals would play on the radio. i would likely be a drifters, but even i would get board with a walk after a while. i may fiddle up on a roof, but that ain't livin, that ain't livin. someone wood invariably nick me with the question "what's goin on?" i would likely mutter something about "fish filled with mercury records" and blame "the politicians up in dinah washington" who "we need to get rid of before they get rid of us." eventually, i would be put in a larry holmes. my diet, heavy on sugar ray leonard thanks to the cooking of mrs. robinson, would help me graduate to an advanced stage of diabetes. even a taste of honey bruce would not cure me. how sweet it is to visualize such a compelling future. thank god that i have the temptations to use just my imagination. for i am rolling, because i have the stones to think as my papa does.

2008? remember y2k? what shit that was. just when was the world supposed to end? eastern time, pacific time, archaic thyme? so the east coast blows at 12 while laid back cali residents are chilling at 9? gordy, howe would that have worked. orr, bobby, may be something else would have happened? i want to be there when the world comes to an end. i want to see which song spielberg chooses for the finale. can we get celine dion, or perhaps mariah will carey on and perform for this titanic event? oprah could host the end of the world party and help us all feel better by giving away various trinkets. then, the doctor could make us phil better by telling us that the problem is with each of us as individuals, and not with things like "the system," or "the environment," which are merely extensions of our tension and personal lives. sounds like fun, huh? i can't wait.

nucular war, anyone? iran away from thinking about it for a long time, but we will be fucked whether we contemplate the stormy weather that awaits us or not.

happy new year.

thank you pinko

nothing against reggie the-ass, but the greatest point guard of all time? magic, the big o, and j kidd might not see it that way. he was a great scorer though. by the way, i was wondering what happened to the rest of my body oil.

i was sitting on the l trane near simmons when i overheard a young woman on her (say it together everyone...) cell phone say "i got her this really nice scarf for 400 hundred dollars. 400 for a scarf? my question to you is; once you get a 400 dollar scarf, what do you do about your 50 dollar coat? isn't that a lot of pressure to live up to? so then, you start over paying for all of your clothes to match the scarf. furthermore, in a world where half the planet survives on less than 2 dollars a day, what right does anyone have to own a 400 dollar scarf? (there goes cyborg again, ruining a good gag. party pooper.)

denzel washington has reportedly donated 1 million dollars to wiley college, the black school with the debating team from the 30's that denzel's new movie is based on. the money is to be spent to "re-establish its debate team." Washington said "he'd like to get the debate team going again." i can think of a few black people that could have better used that million dollars, but as you know, i'm quite the cynic. for that matter, the tens of millions used to make the film on wiley could have been spent to house, feed, and educate poor people of all colors.

the film will once again give us that stock figure of the strong black man who doesn't let his students/followers/team/family use discrimination and poverty as an excuse for failure. he will, by the force of his will and example, lead them to a teary eyed successful conclusion to their journey. (think lean on me, coach carter, remember the titans, akeela and the bee) the character is inherently conservative. the solution, we are told, lies completely within ourselves. poverty, discrimination, hunger, police brutality, war? just excuses that hold you back. no one said life was fair. just remember, you have to be twice as good as "the white boys." this "strong" character will never question just how good the whites really are, or why we need to be in competition with each other, and will seldom if ever acknowledge the profundity of the oppression faced by those in his charge.

i've got to say it...fuck you denzel. except for john q. that was kind of ok.

and hurricane wasn't too bad.

and you were pretty good as malcolm.

ok...come on denzel, enough with this strong, no excuses, militarisic, leader shit.

just a thought; if we took all the money spent to make these feel good movies about militaristic strong men leading poor underdogs to overcome long odds to succeed, and put that money into our inner cities, we just might produce more strong leaders and poor people able to overcome long odds and succeed. but then, they would be real black people, and america doesn't want them to succeed, does it? better to keep watching movies about fake black people succeeding played by a rare black man that has succeeded, than to actually attempt to create a more just society. well, easier anyhow.

don't even get me started on the 720,000,000 spent each day in iraq. yes, that's 720 million. and their buying in bulk too. imagine how much more it would be if the army got its supplies from sal's spa.

you can bomb the world to pieces but you can't bomb it to peace.

i'll come up with more pieces later. give piece a chance. it's easier on the stomach than having the whole thing. for that matter, give pizza a chance, and remember, he who controls the pasta, controls the future.

all's well that orwell.

by george, when will this shit end.

now.

the whole 4 yards

in the phoenix, a local free rag, a transvestite hooker advertises "10 inches, fully functional." what happened to the other 2 inches? in math, you have to be precise. 5/6 is not going to get it done.

the t has made four of their most used train stations available for cell phone use. this is supposedly a good thing, as now people will be able to waste even more time in meaningless conversation, on the internet, and "texting," which by the way, is perhaps the most hateful endeavor other than the dropping of cluster bombs. when asked by a reporter if the money spent making these stations cell phone ready could have been used to feed the hungry, a t spokesman replied "you show us the money in that and we will do it." (we wish we had such reporters in our media world. instead, we have stenographers who blandly report the crimes of the powerful. the wonders of "objectivity.")

the new year is almost here. us users of the christian time frame are quite a bit younger than the chinese, jews, and others. jesus, sleep well. although, i'm sure the actions of your followers will probably keep you wide awake. king of kings, what do you make of a society that could create dairy queen and listen to the artist formally known as prince? how about our destruction of the monarch butterfly, and how the prez, lester young, was treated in the military? doesn't it just make you want to jack kennedy everybody up? jesus, aren't you angry over how your followers have turned you into a blond haired blue eyed nordic? jesus, i am tom mooney. manger boy, i am the scottsboro boys. happy 2008. could you create 150,000,000 democratic socialists with anarchist tendencies in the united states? i promise i won't ask for anything else.

vic damone made his victim moan when he punched him in the face. he told me he was gonna jack jones up, and that is just what he did. to be frank james, it was behavior worthy of sinatra. billy may tell you the same thing when you talk to him. nelson, his actions are a riddle to me. david, there is no justice in a world where mediocre lounge singers can be attacked in the middle of the dorris day as they walk along the dinah shore on the beaches of dinah washington in the middle of the billie holiday season as they pick flowers from a judy garland. gleason jackie, if a buddy guy wants to walk though an audrey meadows because he doesn't drive an art carney, and wants to feel the rainn wilson on his face, he should be able to do it without someone flipping out on him. and if he wants to mo vaughn through the streets of monroe, he shouldn't have to defend himself from being robbed. even paul should be able to walk down the street. some may tell you it is not tim wise to walk alone down dark streets at bobby knight, but it is a zinn to keep yourself locked up in your brick house while the ritchie people have a good time. even if it rains, remember that every time it rains, it rains penny lovers from heaven, all night long. you are one of the few who will reap the benefits of this mutiny on the bounty. just remember to say hello to everyone you sea as the rain falls. and while some may be drowning in their own tears as they contemplate jumping into the river ray charles, remind them not to cry a johnny rivers, but dan rather, to guy forget their troubles and to get happy, for they need to chevy chase their troubles away. maybe they can find joy by driving to a vicki carr concert, which by the helen way, is getting rave reviews. raven screen was raving about it just the other day. "that is so raven" i thought to myself after i read the column. in bobby short, lose the ed long face. johnny be goode. take care of yourself, and each other. i thought i'd springer that on you.

ms big bad wolf, am i using the blog well? have these 45 minutes hastened the coming of the revolution? has fascism been beaten back by my brutal blows? yes, i could have gone and joined the iraqi resistance, but the real struggle is right here, isn't it? i am at war with the screen, and my words are my bombs, and all together, we can figuratively blow this mutha up and create a land of liberty. ain't that right, ms wolf, dear? please, tell me we are not sheep. yes, remind us that the bloggers are changing the world.

i don't know if it is the end of america, but you will be happy to know, this blog has come to an end.

el fin.

to the nader haters

the two front runners for the democratic nomination are clinton and obama. however, the person that does the best in every poll in regards to a general election, is john edwards. edwards beats every republican challenger. edwards is a white male southerner (think carter and bill clinton, the last two democratic presidents) with a populist, blue collar image. in short, he is just the kind of guy who could cop a couple of "red" states and pull out a general election. this clear fact has not stopped most democrats from drowning in the shallow sea of identity politics. of course, it is their right to support hillary or obama, however unlikely it is that either can win a general election, just as i will support dennis kucinich. my question is; if you support a candidate who can not win a general election, are you throwing the election to the republican party? will us third party voters have the right to blame you when iran is invaded by the next republican president? will the hillary and obama voter of today be scorned and ridiculed as the nader voter of yesterday was?
hint to the clueless; people have the right to vote for the person they think is the best candidate. when the red sox play the yankees, i root for the sox, not because i think they will win, but because i want them too. likewise, i will vote for kucinich in the democratic primary, and a third party candidate in the general election (i have heard cynthia mckinney wants the green party nomination), not because i think these candidates will win, but rather, because they will hold views closer to mine. that is supposed to be what this is about. however, if elections are a defensive chess records game where we vote to keep "worse" candidates from taking tyrone power, then why are so many people (many of the same people, in fact, who castigated supporting nader) supporting someone (clinton) who 50 percent of the electorate is on record as saying they will not vote for, (this means she has no chance of winning for those of you who are not mathematically inclined) while others are supporting a black man with a muslim name? (of course, this is not a reason to not vote for obama, but do his supporters really think that racist, narrow minded, ignorant, america will really vote for him, whatever his policies are?)
so, you hillary and obama supporters, vote for who you want.
just let the rest of us do the same.

i must be crazy. i left the eddie house to walk through a driving rainn flip wilson storm just to blog. i, with hundreds of jazz cd's in my possession, currently sit in an overheated branch library thinking in vain for the right pun. what's goin on? this ain't livin, this ain't livin.

the new democracy; people get to vote for the winner of various competitions on television. yes, it is good to know that freedom and liberty still thrive. by the way, i'm still pissed over how dolittle was robbed. her "as long as he needs me" still lingers in my brain, like a glass of champaigne. but of course, they went with jordan, because the sparks did fly when she sang how deep is the billy ocean. joan cried a rivers over her interpretation. but, the point is, we, the people, made the call. it wasn't some communist elite who forced us to vote in a certain way. and for this, we can be proud.

saw a bumber sticker which read "american by birth. union by choice." sorry, iww.

i was recently informed that the maker of my stereo doesn't exist anymore. does that mean i'm supposed to run out and replace it? the ability to buy and replace consumer goods is another of our glorious freedoms. and there are other choices too. we can choose between time and newsweek, jet and ebony, the times or the globe, baseball or basketball, nbc or cbs, saturday night live or mad tv. ohh, the wonderous power of the modern american. and sadly, we seem contented with our pathetic power. in any case, my word to you is that i will use things until they don't work anymore, and even then, i will give them every chance to start working again. i will not burn (literally) my cd collection because some jerk off invented an ipod, i will not run out and buy a computer when i can walk to the library to use one, and i will not buy clothes because some celebrity puts their name on them. can you deal with that america?

peace peeps. i wish i was digging yusef at peps, smokin a philly.

i guess the blog will have to do until the real thing comes along.

i have often walked down this paul street before

to blog or not to blog? that is the question. something about nobility. as a senior in high school i had to memorize green eggs and hamlet's soliloquy. remember that a soliloquy is a kind of monologue that only the audience can hear. we never did quite get around to johnny mercer got his gun in that class. for me, high school was a high noon filled with stormy weather. sometimes, in the still of the night, i would dream of a better reality somewhere over the rainbow, or perhaps, the gal (or is it girl? it's really man, but you know...not that there is anything wrong with that) that got away. but alas, it was only me and my shadow strolling down teardrop avenue. then i would get hungry and proceed to puttin on the ritz cracker to satisfy my hunger and to maybe get a snickers out of yours truly, or his falsely.
i have a friend who is waiting for the second coming. to this day, he has only had one orgasm. of course, one could wait for godot, but as i always say, you godot your way and i'll go mine, because i don't need your drama, for i am too old to play
games. why don't you just take your seat on this merry go round of life and enjoy the show? gleason to what i am saying before i jack you up, steal your carney, and drive it through a meadows in randolph. the honeymooners is over, so pay pal. it is time to account for yourself while there is still some interest in your story. don't waste time sitting on the dock of the ebay. otis is the time for great changes. so knock on nick wood, and perhaps, we will be awash in great floods. remember, god will not brook your excuses, which don't hold much water, only about four ounces.

you know you are racist...
if you keep trying to figure out why filipino people have spanish sounding names.
if you rant about "the chinese" everytime a korean guy pisses you off.
if you want a mexican guy to "speak english" on land that used to be mexico.
if you pray to a blue eyed blond haired god.
if you are known to bitch that "slavery happened a long time ago."
if you are always accusing people of being "too sensitive" every time they are offended by a racist remark.
if you are angry about how black people use the n word to each other but don't seem to be too bothered by police brutality.
if you blame everything on something called "hip hop culture."
if your all time nba team consists of bob cousy, jerry west, larry bird, kevin mchale, bill walton, john stockton, dave cowens, pete mavarich, bob pettite, george mikan, mark price, and bobby jones.
if you think pat boone improved on little richard's efforts.
if you like j lo better after they stopped showing her ass.

christmas is over, but the hole in my pocket remains. well, it's only paper with the faces of dead white murderers on it anyway, so i suppose spreading it around isn't the worst thing in the world. however, when half your money is going to keep a chinese take out joint in business, it might be time to talk to an accountant. did people get in the holiday spirit this year? it's hard to tell, because even though everyone pissed you off, you don't know how much more they would have pissed you off if it wasn't a holiday. so, are you enjoying that shirt you got, or the gift card to the place you never heard of? how about the obligatory call from that guy who is kind of your friend, except when you have to talk to him? better catch up on my dr. seuss.

a tiger escaped from a zoo and killed a person. the score is now people 3,567, 789,054,045,987 and animals 68. i suppose i shouldn't make fun, but i do think it would be nice if people would stop and think about who is usually the victim.

you are a great blues singer, charles brown.

and then, there was the sound of silence. don't simon, it could have been worse.

pick yourself up, dustin yourself off, and get a taste of honey bruce

a taste much sweeter than wine. i hope you appreciate my tony of voice. to be frank, i think i sound very good, especially after i drink a martino. what has helped me through the years is my faith hill that god created adam and steve lawrence. that, and edyie at gourmet restaurants has kept me fit and strong. polly bergen want a cracker? larry may flip his bird at me for these lines, but charles, what kind of jokes do you expect me to pick up at yard john sayles. perhaps some black sox humor, or a pair of scandals, but i flip flopped and decided to not buy anything. if the cashier only had a pinko hue, but alas, we are cascading hair today, gone tom tomorrow. just picture it. i don't mean to be mcgruder, but sometimes i just want to sit on the boondocks of the bay, redding. otis is madness. where is the love? why must i take this flack from everyone. why can't i find a hathaway where i can find peace. speaking of peace, i recommend "war and piece of ass" a book about a soldier in baghdad who opens a i've got the world on a string of bordellos and turns a very fine profit selling the juice to thirsty grunts who moan and twist the night away, temporarily forgetting their checkered lives and chubby bodies. even clark needs to use his dick sometimes. we all need to take a bandstand and shindig the ladies out there, ron carter. don't tell me i'm off bass clarinet. i know you think i am not a fine cello, but just remember that hope is the thing with feathers. you knew i was outward bound to say that, and while it was a far cry from what most people are blogging about, i am content with the line. where? do i come up with this stuff, you cey ron? well, i do get george tuckered out thinking up this stuff magazine sometimes, but then i remember to give maxim effort and all goes well. so i put my mcintyre to the ground and then i know that i ken do it. for we are all up against the waldron now. johnny most of us are shopping at the mal, but that is not the keys to happiness. jaki, they byard a lot of things, but does it bring them joy to the world the christ has cum in his pants. as far as i'm concerned these shoppers are out to lunch. they are searching for answers but they don't know what the question is. perhaps when they are on their last date, they will realize that honey was not the key to health. come sunday, they will go to church and neil armstrong down to pray, but their lives will remain bobby bland. for, we are not meant to live like freddie king's. not with a capitalist economy that relegates the masses to a life of drab work and mindless pursuits of constant consumerism. we are ruled by the all mighty dolphy. so take the l trane as you search for the king of sacaramento kings on this holiday. spend your billie's, you strange fruits and unusual straights. it's all fine and mellow with me, because the blues and the abstract truth is we will all be screaming the blues soon as we travel straight ahead into the abyss of destruction.
onward to the final destination.
ohh, come ye merry gentlemen.
come fly with me.
come dance with me
come swing with me
come up with another mitch albom title.
the morrie you watch, the less you know.
i hope tuesday finds you amongst love ones.
peace.

nodding out on newbury street

looking for the right gift. i start at urban outfitters. i laugh out loud when i spot an item that reads "you say tomato i say fuck you." later, i spy a booze container that reads "what wouldn't jesus do?" a shirt that reads "hip hop is dead" also catches my attention, but it's 28 dollar price tag quickly turns me off. i admit that i get a kick out of these items, but then i remember that you don't need a wildly over priced consumer good to make you cool.
then, it's on to newbury comics. a girl chatting on a cell phone: "should i buy dad "the departed or the office season 3?" i shout out, like an isley brother, "the office." she stares at me. i go back to aimlessly searching for the "right gift." i spot another "cool" t shirt. a caricature of a 1950's white guy smiles out of the shirt and states "i think you're gangster. do you think i'm gangster?" he's doing that finger thing.
the search for the perfect gift seemingly finds me clueless. the truth is, i don't know what i'm doing. at least that is a feeling i am used to. eventually, i
collect enough consumer goods and consider myself satisfied. as snow falls strongly on my head, the bus takes an eternity to arrive. all week, the bus and train has been horrible. i doubt they will take this into account when they decide to raise the fares again. ahh, another maddening day in the midst of the machine. however, i must admit, i got some cute stuff. onward to that damon, that christ was bourne.

friday, december 20th.

the last day of school before the brake. (break) n brings in a kareoke machine. the cool gang wants to celebrate because we are family, but we don't get around to using it. n cries at the end of the forever and a day over this. instead, they watch high school musical 2. i don't think citizen kane has anything to worry about.

you know you are racist if...
if you think bill wennington was the best player on the chicaco bulls.
if you think britney spears looks better than beyonce. you should knowles better than to think that.
if you blame everything on "the immigrants."
if you think watching rush hour gives you valuable insights into asian american culture.
if you move out of your neighborhood when they put up a bill board with a person of color on it.
if you cried when oj was found not guilty, but don't seem to care much about the thousands of unjustly imprisoned poor black men.
if you like the cosby show more than sanford and son.
if you have never been to a check casher's place.
if you think malcolm x was a racist.
if you only watch white pornography.
if you brag about donating to the urban league.
if you can't name the president of chad. (i must go in for sensitivity training)
if you love elvis, but never heard of jackie wilson.
if you think wilt chamberlain ruined basketball.
if you stopped listening to jazz after glenn miller.
if you watch cops.

christmas is coming. spend your money, you poor fools. celebrate when you are told to. follow, you average american, you ass. muslim and jew, join in. come on all, spend spend spend. sonny and cher the harold land, rick fox, for where there is a vanessa williams, there is a way. use your credit card. talk about a season of peace while the bombs are falling on innocent others whose names you can not pronounce. cook dinners and say prayers while your tax dollars pay to produce machines of murder. spend money on people you don't care about because they may be spending money on you and you don't want to feel funny if they do. spend about as much as you think they will spend on you, because that is how it's done. jerk off in a collective masterbatory celebration of consumerism. be a good american. fit in. wish people a happy new year. watch tv. go to the movies. buy a car. talk on a cell phone. pretend that people aren't starving. take a shit. go to work.

happy christmas and a merry new year.

on the job

a free period in my day has been taken from me. it is the first period of the day on tuesdays and thursdays. worst of all, it is a u.s. history course, ie brainwashing 101. i once thought i wanted to be a history teacher, but i had to stop studying for the teacher's exam when i saw the bullshit that passed for correct answers. for example, it was explained that the vietnam war was between "democratic" south vietnam and "communist" north vietnam. in any case, history is taught by mc. believe me, i would love to hammer him. he knows next to nothing, or at least, teaches as if he knows next to nothing.
today, i arrive at work at 8:30 to take notes in his class for d. mind you, if not for this new placement, i would have been free until 11. i get there in the knick of time to find him lecturing on the earl monroe doctrine. in a new york minute, i have a piece of paper out, and am writing as if my life depended on it. mc explains that "monroe wanted to protect the newly independent countries in the americas. monroe cared about these countries, who were too weak to defend themselves from the european powers." the lessen is "we love our neighbors, and care for them as if we were one big happy clan." mc did not mention that these countries were also too weak to defend themselves from the u.s. he did not hint that the u.s. would shortly begin a project of neo-imperialism in the americas, rapidly taking over land and resources. no, monroe just wanted to protect the poor little americas from big bad europe.
the day before, mc had justified u.s. entry into the war of 1812 by saying that the british were capturing american sailors and using them in their war against france. where were these american sailors? he never said. were they capturing them from their homes? were they riding around on horseback and randomly grabbing every available sailor they could find? a question in the textbook asked if the u.s. was justified in fighting the british in 1812. the correct answer, according to mc, was yes, because of the whole situation on the high seas. this would be a reason for me, or you, to risk your life? i suppose later in the class a question in the textbook will ask if the u.s. was justified in destroying southeast asia (of course, they would never use a truthful word like destroy) because of the gulf of tonkin incident. and i'm sure, mc will be there, insisting that the correct answer to that question is also yes. or perhaps, they will ask us about the lusitania and ww1. and the answer will be yes, 10 million times yes, one for each dead body. or maybe they will ask about the blowing up of the maine, and the answer will again be yes. they will learn of incidents and dates and the names of generals and treaties and battles. less studied will be terms and places like napalm and cluster bombs and depleted uranium and saturation bombing and shock and awe and my lai and ben tre and "we had to destroy the village in order to save it" and fallujah and cambodia and dresden and fire bombs and atom bombs and skin falling off faces and burned babies and genocide.
in this class, it will be taught that we are noble. we defend the defenseless. we never provoke but we do stand up to the beast like actions of our enemies. we are always the good guys. we heroically fight fascism with a segregated army and an interned japanese american population. we free poor asians from atheistic communism, sending liberty their way courtesy of napalm and agent orange. a token mention of martin luther king will be made, with his anti-war and radical class analysis left out. malcolm x, huey newton, george jackson, mumia abu jamal and fred hampton will not be mentioned at all, which is likely for the best, as mc would certainly blast them for resorting to "violence" while praising the military for its massive use of said violence.
for you see, mc is going through the curriculum. he is "teaching," as i'm sure teachers were teaching in hitler's germany and in allende's chile and in mobutu's zaire and in somoza's nicaragua. perhaps certain names will even stick in the heads of his students, and maybe, some day in the future, they will get a question right on jeopardy because of it. maybe they will remember who aaron burr was, or lewis and clark, or the token native who helped lewis and clark. this will mean nothing however. it will bring them no closer to a true understanding of the power structure and foreign policy of their government.
which i suppose is the whole idea, for when the next lie is told, and the next set of bombs need to be dropped, mc's students, or the students of another faceless, brain dead mc, will be ready to drop them.

i thought of making this comment today.

but the rent is due in 10 days.

maturity sucks.

peace.

pinko's behavior creates a sandal

the problem with the modern worker, my brother, is that they don't have sole, dad. this is one issue i will not flip flop on, wilson. i have knocked on woodrow hoping for a change in this matter, but it hasn't occurred. the average coworker, unfortunately, bares a striking resemblance to the average american; shallow, selfish, diverted by trinkets, ignorant of history, and insistent on involving themselves in the lives of others. i say, let her wear the gene shue of her choosing and be done with it. she doesn't need to coach you in the hopes that you will wilt chamberlain under the pressure. the attempt by this young girl to kirby puckett your enthusiasm for sandals is one that i hope she will not gary on much longer. in order for you to form a better union, hopefully a gap of silence will develop, and such inane remarks will no longer be spoken.

the principal of the school walked by and caught me listening to my disc man (yes, still ammons) in the hallway. he shrugged his shoulders, and appeared angry, although it was hard for me to tell without my glasses on. i played it cool, shrugged my shoulders back, and calmly said "free period." i will have you know that i was in violation of the school hand book, which prohibits the use of a disc man on school grounds. naughty, huh? my plan is to keep showing up as if nothing happened. by the way, doc weintraub caught me as i was listening to "feeling good," perhaps the high point of the boss is back cd. give it a listen if you can.

back to coworkers...why must there be so many of them? i mean, there is only one of you, and there are hundreds of them! if you could take the things you like about all your coworkers, and combine them into one houston person, you just might come up with a chuck person that you would want to be friends with. as it is, one likes the office, another has a decent politics, while another knows about sam cooke, and you can't wait to get away from all three of them! and, we have no choice in the matter. your coworkers are there by chance...you didn't choose them, you likely have nothing in boston common with them. in truth, you are like two ships downtown crossing in the night, and the chance of you spending a night at the roxbury with any of them are memphis slim and michael nunn. but, of course, you don't choose anything, do you? you don't choose how much your rent is, how much the food you buy is, how much heat is, how much the bus costs, how much your bike costs, how much gas is, blah blah blah. in short, you are free. you live in the greatest cuntry in the world, you dick. you have the illusion of choice, as you wonder how much bread it will take for you to find contentment. but real choice? that is for others. you will never meet those guys, but that doesn't mean they don't exist.

coworkers. they want us to dress "better." they want us to care about holidays. if we are single, they try to set us up on dates. they ask how our relationship is going. they ask what we are getting our loved ones for christmas. they ask where we went to college, and what we majored in, and then smirk when we reply "english." they try to get us to hang out, telling us "it will be fun" to sit in an enclosed space, drinking with people we have nothing in common with. they tell us they want to go back to school. they tell us they can't get their child to take school seriously. and, we pretend to care, because we don't know how not to play by the rules of engagement. the game is all ready set up, and it would be rude to mess with it.
but, can't they just let us read? do they have to ask "what are you doing?" everytime you start a blog? do they have to ask "what are you doing this weekend?"

do they have to be there?

i guess. they are slaves too, and they too need to eat. i suppose we are all in it together.

it just doesn't feel that way, does it?

coworkers...fuck off

papa was a rolling stone who got no satisfaction when his career was put on vanilla ice

i had a temptations to use just my imagination and start this blog with a pun, and while i ain't too proud to beg the writers to end their strike, i believe i still have some good lines of my own. right now jackie, i am listening to the mclean tenor playing of gene ammons. his tone cuts through me like a jacknife. the disc is the "boss is back," and it contains the first two albums (the boss is back and brother jug) that ammons made after being released from jail. ammons was jailed by our fascistic criminal justice system for 7 and a half years (1962-1969) for the "crime" of using heroin. remarkably, he came back sounding as good as ever, but sadly, only lived about 5 years more, and died in 1974. his tone was buddy rich, and he had more timber than tree rollins, sonny. his kind of playing was most appreciated by inner city black audiences, and a faithful coterie of die hard supporters, such as cyborg. perhaps most famous for his essential "boss tenor" album, he made many other great albums, including the fantastic "happy blues," groove blues," which featured john coltrane on alto sax (his only recorded performaces on the instrument) and "jug." (along with "boss" one of his nicknames) to be frankenstein, ammons was a monster. i can not even count dracula the ways that his music has satisfied me over the years. it is a sad commentary on our society that great musicians such as ammons are virtually unknown, while talentless sex symbols and arrogant actors of dubious distinction receive undue attention and money. at least, ammons, when free, made a pretty good living. his records sold well due to his following. bob, this allowed ammons to stay up to his ears in wein and stock. he had the support of the prestige records label, who recorded him often, even stockpiling recordings that were put out during his prison stint (a practice that ammons was greatful for.) you might even say that ammons was the tupac of his day. ammons also got steady club work, both in his home base of chicago, and in clubs throughout the country. such steady work was not offered to fellow geniuses like tina brooks and ike quebec, who remain even more unknown than ammons. as the once in a life time genius eric dolphy said when he was asked why he was leaving the country for europe "i'll be able to get some work there, and if you try to do something different in this country, they put you down for it." there are not enough computer that's so raven screens in the we are the world for me to comment on how great dolphy was. if you cannes reel in his recordings of "out there" and "far cry," among others, i suggest you do so. if you are out to lunch, than go after your night shift is over. please, you don't need another barry from east enders manilow cd. take the 1st step to listening to the giants of american music. so, jump into your hot rod, stewart, because here is that rainy day that you have been helen way-ting for. do not allow your ears to be brainwashed anymore, for while we may all be in whitney houston now, there is still time to turn the dallas page, and to be a maverick. come on, act on the spurs of the moment. why must you spend your time duncan a doughnut, tim? get off your arse. i don't mean to drop the bikes not bombs on you, but by george clinton, this funky situation will not get better until all you rascals out there decide that you want to be free by any means necessary. malcolm, you can't always be in the middle. it is time for you to catch a falling kay starr, and to spin the wheel of fortune, for this world is in jeopardy. that is why i am sending out this sos. don't you see that no one can edwin a war at this stage? you don't have to be agent double o-soul to see that. woman, i know you have soul galore, but it will take more than will, son, for us to turn this around. while i cherish our association, we need to take wing like byrds, and to buckingham this system that has become kind of a drag. you rascal, good lovin won't be enough. i don't put any creedence into that philosophy anymore, not while the water is far from clear. i ain't no senator's son, but i think i know a thing or two, and while mary may be too proud to acknowledge the depth of our disaster, that should not stop the rest of us from acting on the truths we have learned through the grapevine. i know you were raisin in california, pinko, but you can not be layed back anymore. you must act as if you have a chip on your shoulder.
we all must.
let us fight, but still remember to have pun, and let us always remember how great nelson riddle was.

onward to the revolution.

david has his sling shot.

how about you?

the mitchell report has me blue.

i guess the thing to do is for me to put on my sneakers and step lightly. unknown to many is that the mitchell report is not ground breaking, or earth shattering, for that matter. there are other reports that say much more about the world around us. here, for the first time, is the uncut version of the unheralded but vital "goldstein report." what will follow will make little to no sense.

so, what is it gonna be... apple bottom, baby phat, or roca wear? come on people, the fate of western man may depend on what label we choose.

more from the goldstein report later.

christmas rant.

ok, i've held back long enough. christmas represents a battle for me in which my head goes toe to toe with my heart. my head tells me that the holiday has turned into a vile celebration of crass commercialism. on this day, consumerism has conquered all. poor people who live in projects pour their funds into acquiring asinine products, which they then give out as if it were the last day on earth. a student i work with will buy her boyfriend 3 pairs of sneakers, 8 t shirts, and a chain. she lives in a project. i assume her mother probably doesn't need help putting food on the table, but i could be wrong. my head says that this holiday acts as a massive diversion, a collective act of masterbation without the pay off.
and then, there is my heart. my heart says that millions of people look forward to this day. they spend hours thinking of the right gift for the right person at the right time. they too may bemoan the commercial manifestations of modern christmas, but they still find much about the holiday that matters to them, such as sharing time with family, and thinking of others. my heart tells me that it is nice to buy a gift for people you care about, especially when it matters to them that you do so. and although you don't quite see where the fat elderly white man with a beard comes in, your heart acknowledges that there is a nice warm feeling that comes with the holiday.
or is it the other way around? is it that my head says to celebrate it because it wouldn't be worth my trouble to not celebrate it? is it easier to just go along? is it my head that calculates that there is some goodness to it all, enough perhaps to even justify all the baggage. and perhaps it is my heart that says this is a corrupt, juvenile attempt by our culture to further rob and divert the people from thinking about reality.

overload...forget about it. just smile.

OH NIGHT DEVINE.

na is a young black girl in one of the classes that i work in. na describes herself as "jamaican and west indian" and says that she won't date black guys because "they are not going anywhere." i did get her to acknowledge that there are 2 and a half black men she finds attractive. these men are chris brown, (i am really starting to hate this guy) jay z (her eye test will be scheduled shortly. however, if he's good enough for beyonce, i guess he's good enough for na) and derek jeter. na also likes to watch youtube. no, you will not find her looking up the latest tid bit from eric bogosian, or richard pryor. na prefers such classics as "what what in the butt," and a jamaican dancer falling off a stage, only to get up as if nothing happened to finish the dance. na has also watched mya and sean paul, and seemed to take particular offense when i suggested that sean paul was the "only white guy in his videos." "he's not white!" she saul bellowed, to which i stated that he was about as black as snow. i took this time to ask na what happened to sasha, to which she replied "she was dancing in jamaica somewhere." na has also informed me that "white people can't dance." at this, i shot her an astaire and i feigned indignation. "who do you think created the polka and square dancing? you better recognize!" i was gonna show her a clip of gene kelly, but she probably would have told me he was "light skin-ded"
then there is j. j is a hip hop cracker. everyone has an eminem, and he is ours. j is always talking about how he is going "to whip some ass" but somehow never seems to actually get into a fight of any magnitude. he claims that he acts this way because it is who he is. this does not explain his mastery of old english when he is at the dining table.
p is p. i don't know where to start with him. p tells me that he is the king of macintyre land, and the capital is in weymouth. he tells me the rebels are planning to attack his government, and he is trying to figure out if there presence justifies dropping the h bomb. he tells you that his name is not o'brien, even though it is. he says that his aide is from the ottoman empire and that he fought with the russians during world war 2. his aide also fought with the viet cong. p asks you if you remember the teacher next door, and he also asks you if you remember things that happened 5 minutes ago. he remembers tiny details from years ago. sometimes when you pass his desk you will hear him singing rap songs. he keeps talking about the notorious big. i try to explain that it's b.i.g., but he still gets it wrong. p raps in a lame, white, style, but just the fact that he knows the words is startling.

then there is n. n is a young white guy who will look you in the eye and tell you he hasn't showered in weeks. he has a crush on me. n can tell you the year that hundreds of tunes from the 50's and 60's came out. hard day's night? 64. in the ghetto? 69. lonely teardrops? 58 my girl? 65 young girl? 68. cherish? 66. it is insane! just last week, n smeared yogurt on his face in an attempt to get rid of his pimples. after his teacher told him to wipe it off, he apologized and said that he would only practice this remedy at home. n once claimed that he was part black, "not in skin color, but in spirit." he wanted to come to school for halloween dressed as a temptation, but i told him that he would be better off coming as a rascal. i took this opportunity to ask when "i'm losing you" came out.

66.

more later.

peace.

is that a serious comment?

today, mlb gets to rat out 60 to 80 baseball players. in my book, using a steroid is not high on a list of crimes. to me, the profits made by the league due to these players being accused of using steroids is a greater crime than the use of the drugs by the players. did you get that? and the bonds thing? a pure witch hunt, a crass attempt to tear down the greatest baseball player of our time because of his race and personality. if he has to do jail time, right away i am looking for real estate in mexico.
the high school i work at goes by the name of the brookline warriors. before that, it was the indians. people routinely bitch that the political correct crowd is pressuring the school unfairly in an attempt to change the name. i heard this rant from my coworkers today. i held my tongue, if only for the reason that i have to share space with these people at least until june. however, to myself, i did think of a new name for the school; the brookline crackers. what do you think? or how about the brookline jews? think it will pass mustard? i relish to see what name they come up with. and now, i am going to ketchup on the rest of my blog.
i'm sitting on the train last night. an older fellow is sitting opposite me. he is wearing a hat which reads "pow-mia: you are not forgotten." where to begin? first of all, if you are mia from a war that ended over thirty years ago, you are really kia. secondly, this whole pow thing was a myth cooked up by the nixon administration and its supporters to divert attention away from the true war crime, which was the massive anglo american bombing of southeast asia. furthermore, i have an idea for a new hat. it reads "napalmed vietnamese peasant: you are not forgotten." anyone interested?
today, students had to fill out a multiplication grid. the grid goes from 1 to 12. brittney said that 7 times 5 is 401, that 8 times 5 is 501, and that 1 times 0 is 40. there are more examples, but i think you can gather the point. should i laugh or cry? after hearing johnnie ray's recording of cry, i decided to cry. that's the bobby short of it, for while you have come a long way baby, you still have a howie long way to go to see dexter gordon. dexter called, and told me it would be a swingin affair. but i struck what to him was a blue note. quoting dick cheney, i told him i had other priorities, which included listening to war.

friday december 14th.

the mitchell report has come out. here is a summary.
clemens took steroids, and turned it into a mountain of joy. 87 other players were also named. some took human growth hormone, although andy only took a pettite amount. 42 communists, 21 anarchists, 6 fascists, and 2 right wing populists were also named. derek jeter was accused of illegally funding a campaign run by his pal, buddy jackson, who ran for alderman in englewood cliffs, new jersey. jeter gave him 75 dollars and a vintage alex english jersey. jackson still lost, but it was likely a much closer race because of jeter's influence. furthermore, kenny lofton was accused of urinating in a train station, although he denies the charges. "this really pisses me off" he exclaimed. matt clement was accused of reading the koran and asking "will killing people really end terrorism?" he has been shunned by his family and according to bud selig "a pox which can never go away has been placed upon his traitor ass." finally, kenny rodgers has been charged with funding al qaida. when the authorities invaded his home, (without a warrant, mind you) they found the complete works of osama bin laden, a 10 inch black dildo, and an original 45 of "i'm losing you" by the temptations. when asked about the charges, kenny furiously replied "i thought a man still had freedom of association in this country." when asked about the twin towers, he answered that he didn't want to talk about ralph sampson. rodgers is currently under house arrest. trying to stay upbeat, he said "i feel like saddam. i know what this is about, and i will fight it until the bitter end." he was last seen babbling incoherently, wearing fatigues, and claiming that pamela anderson was his sister.

remember when baseball was a game filled with american (ie, white) idols? simon says he does, but many no longer do. i think i will go to an escobar and drown in my own tears. performance enhancing drugs?

and you thought the bombing of southeast asia was bad.

this is the real tragedy.

kids, don't do drugs.

just join the army, drive suv's, eat at mcdonalds, and vote republican.

viva the united states of north america.

vick: just a cough drop in the bucket and a pit bull stop in the game of life

2 years in prison? and bush is still free? clearly, vick should have enlisted in the army. then, he could have killed people and gotten a medal for it. or, he could have done a shaq and become a cop. clearly, we need to build a culture that respects life, and vick's actions didn't do that. but let's not pretend we are ascending a moral high ground while the bombs are falling, while people are starving, and while millions languish in prison. a coworker said "he should have gotten more time." she failed to mention certain heads of state and ceo's guilty of far greater crimes who continue to jim rome free. as zinn said "the petty criminals are behind bars while the major criminals run the country." and for all of you shedding hypocritcal tears about animal cruelty, i say shut the fuck up and eat your steak, you jive turkey. where is the concern for human cruelty? ask an iraqi child just how concerned the average american is with torturing innocents. in reality, this is yet another diversion, a petty crime that keeps our attention away from the real crimes of systemic power. animal cruelty? how about the meat industry, animal traps, animal testing, the fur industry, and factory farming? violence? how about war, racism, environmental degradation, corporate plunder? and what of the crime of imprisonment? is that not too violence? young men of vick's race are forced from an early age to deal with the violence of prison brutality, hunger, harsh prison sentences, and inferior schools. where is the outrage over this violence?

on the bus today, a young girl was texting and listening to her ipod at the same time? whatever happened to just exposing yourself? at least this was a human endeavor. doesn't anyone just look out the window anymore, or look around at the people around them? do we need to fill up every silence? are our lives so barren zemo that we need to pervade them with constant sound and activity?
as i write this, i have a disc man on. just thought i'd let you know. it is bobby hutcherson's medina, a classic of late 60's jazz, featuring harold land on tenor. but, i am still filling up the silence. should i really be so smug? but, if this is taken away from me, what will i have left? maybe jazz is just my springer show, a release that juxtaposes my sophistication with the brain dead musical offerings favored by my contemporaries, hence, allowing me an uppity feeling of superiority. well, i'm happy i have it anyhow.

today, oman told us 2 times 1 is 0. he said it with a straight, but not a narrow, face. a regular dean martin. but, he was serious.

nolan burst into tears because "john lennon died." yes, but this was in 1980. imagine that.

i found out that a student threw a desk last year at the teacher next door to me. i used to throw them out the window and down matt stairs. what do you prefer? if we believe in direct action, doesn't this apply to students as well? throwing desks at teachers? depends on the teacher, i say. oppressive members of the status quo need to be dealt with. i for one am packing my gun with the white flag that says bang on it. helen, i'm reddy for anything, and bobbi, even if i have to fight the landed gentry, i'll do it if it will help to bring freedom to the oppressed. that is ode to billy joe, don't you think? and to all of us. we owe it to each other to make it easy on ourselves and to create a world where everyone from the jerry butlers to the art taylors to the art farmers to the sam cooke's can live a james worthy, marvin gaye life filled with elmo hope and joy to the world the christ has cum all over my carpenters record. i hope my words are helping me get close to you, just like larry bird up on tree rollins while mchale gets stuck guarding dominique and gets no credit for it. i cry a rivers over that series in 88 won by the c's, and i hazel mae need to see a doc soon if my great depression isn't gone by the time i'm 29.

i'll get off now, before i take more precious time from someone's day. oops, i can't get off now. someone's coming. hold on, i think it's sam, so it can't be dave today. guess i'm the look out for now.

maybe tomorrow.

peace.

words of wisdom

eric gagne, that walking disaster disguised as a red sox reliever, just signed a 1 year, 10 million dollar deal with the brewers! shoot me. but please, use the gun where a white flag comes out with the word bang on it.

as i walked to work today, it was the fight of my life to stay on my feet. the ice on the sidewalk represented an obstacle course james worthy of double dragon. and, the cold! then, when i got to the school, a kid named "wit" (i don't think it's his real name. he is one of those "hip hop crackers" who thinks he's black because he's mastered a complicated hand shake, but sadly, has yet to discover the music of tina brooks. dig his "back to the tracks" album) is walking into the building. he is wearing only a t shirt. proof indeed that he is white.

a hillary clinton staffer was recently fired for suggesting that obama is really a muslim who will be used by muslims to take over the government from within. the staffer was fired, but not before those ideas got out to the public. this after mitt romney twice called obama "osama bin laden," supposedly a recurring accident. need i remind you a student i work with asked "isn't he the guy who blew up the towers" when i mentioned his name. i leave it to you to determine what all of this says about the racism, ignorance, and anti-muslim bigotry that pervades our culture. obama for president? maybe in 2308.

not that obama is any better than others. however, we should not look away when a man is caricatured in such a discriminatory way, for it is what such actions say about our society that make them compelling issues. the clinton scandal was evil not because clinton was a great man, but because it demonstrated the extent to which the far right would go in its attempt to eliminate even the pseudo alternative of the democratic party. the kennedy assassination doesn't prove that jfk was a great man, but it does show how far the business interests, the cia, and the military would go in their attempts to eliminate political dissent in high office. and the fact that political hopefuls are using such blatant name calling against obama demonstrates how inherent the sickness of fascist thinking is within our country. it is not a laughing matter.

osama for president.

questions: does iraq scare you? have they threatened to attack us? are iraqi planes bombing american cities? have napalm and cluster bombs been poured onto our soil? are iraqi security forces patrolling american cities, detaining citizens, kicking in doors, guarding checkpoints, shooting cars as they drive by in an attempt to get pregnant women to bombed out hospitals?

who are the terrorists again? when will war crime tribunals come to our shores? when will people write books asking where the good americans were while their government committed genocide? in the future, will people wonder why we were fascinated with reality tv and the demise of britney spears while said genocide took place? will it question our getting up at 4 in the morning on "black friday" to purchase cheap consumer products while our military conquered civilizations? years from now, will memorials be built with the names of the countless dead from our brutish bombardments? will some one intone "never again?" will the iraqi elie wiesel write a book that school children will read and cry over?

sadly, i know the answers to these questions.

and that says a lot, doesn't it?

does anyone know who is playing on monday night football?

new should have been spelled knew. i was gonna correct it but decided to use it as the title of this blog

i'm not gonna lymon to frankie. that teenager needs to hear the truth. life is not always goody goody, and if that fool thinks falling in love is easy, he has another thing coming.
gave a lot of answers out today on the biology quiz. a good technique is just to point at the correct answer for a couple of seconds. another solid approach is to whisper. however, sometimes the whisper is not heard correctly, leading to frustration from the student. the opposite approach can also be used. this technique is to confirm a guess on the student's part in a loud voice. "yes, number three is the large intestine," confirms the answer for the student asking, as well as for any other students in the area. discouraging incorrect answers is always a solid tactic. "are you sure it's the heart?" will convince the student it is not the heart. you can keep doing this until they hit upon the right response. sadly, this is more time consuming than the other approaches, but can work if you are acting as a one on one aide, as opposed to a classroom aide. my favorite approach is to just go around and give answers out in a voice and tone of my choosing. "number 11 is sugar" was one that i threw around quite liberally today. no teacher has ever called me on this. i have no idea if they even know it's going on.
if we accept that school is bullshit, and rote exams which call upon memorization as opposed to learning are a fundamental aspect of said bullshit, my actions take on a new, daring, revolutionary role. for i am in the belly of the beast, and giving students answers can be a work of beauty. think of them. they feel like shit when they get a bad grade, and they feel great about themselves when they do well. i've tried to convince them that it's all bullshit, but helping them seems to be the more popular approach. this isn't new (knew?) to me. in high school, after i finished a test, i used to walk around the class and give out answers until i was kicked out the class. "yo, eight is b," spoken in a high pitched tenor while i remained seated was one of my more daring attempts at helping my fellow oppressed classmates.
schools are silly places where very little learning takes place. we should think of them as such. we should encourage young people to learn about the things that interest them, to utilize their free time, and we should attempt to expose to them, in a respectful and democratic manner, the knowledge and wisdom we have managed to gather during our lives. but school? just a glorified detention center where we memorize things.
cheating? i call it socialized learning.
peace.

dorothy, "you're" still reading closely

or, dorothy, you are still reading closely. you are the sun, you are the rain. lionel got ritchie (rich) from that song. just so you know, it is hard to get an editor at my salary (celery, salari, so larry). you see, it is the brilliant thoughts, the one of a kind genius, the unique creativity, that you should all remember, not a word hear and there. (that should have been here, you hear?) this blog may be going down the you tube, judging by these paper clips. are we really so starved for entertainment? this is all so camp. this concentration of puns is almost too much, even for me. well, jew (you) do what jew (you) gotta do, and when in roma (rome), do what the roma (rome) do. furthermore, remember to be gay (gaye) all the while, for you are a yellow star, jones. i would love to chew the fat (phat) with you, but i am going to have to by (buy, bye)pass on giving you my view for the time being. to that, you will probably say "whoppi!" which is as good as goldberg. i don't care, cey (say) what you have to. but just remember; you can ron (run) but you can't hyde (hide), mr (miss, mrs, mister, sir), because where ever you vengco (go), i'll be there to carey (carry) the load with tom laundry (landry). and then, we will take a math class with mr. cao (cow), boy because we are upward bound. just wear (where) your jean (gene)ammons pants, and speak your piece (peace) as if you had a mike (mic) in your hand.
let us drink the buble, michael. don't wine and complain, for you can rum but you can't hide, so just gin and beer it. there i go a gin, about to take that ride with sally again, because i didn't have the will,son to take the daye off and picket. i felt fenced in. thoughts of having 2 and a half kids merged with watching 8 and a half, so i compromised and watched 2 men and went to the gap and got a bebe coat of paint which i used to clean up eddie house's language. he struck a tender posey, so i didn't have to get a posse after that pussy. he did tell me i was a little pushy for telling him that i thought he lived too poshy. as danit woman would say "whatever". once i went to herr house with james, but i didn't diggs it, so i gave deondrae a call. his phone was busy. he tells me his phone is always busy. just yesterday, it did the dishes.

mitt romney defended his mormon faith yesterday. they say it was his best speech yet. does that say anything?
don't dog steve kerr. he was a good shooter, and a cool cat to boot. he often sneaked up on the competition. he was also a nice guy to converse with. even the all stars enjoyed his conversation. then, when it was reggie miller time, he new how to pacer himself and to drink responsibly. a lot of bucks were wasted on these spurs of the moment night outs, which would nets bars quite a bit of money. they would be there until the suns would rise. they would flock to each other like hornets, and hold each other in raptor like attention. and they were always patriots. when the rockets would red glare, their eyes would david wells up, and they would be receptive to any and all military strikes planned by our leaders. to them, war was a ball, that they would catch on the evening news while they relaxed at home run. they managed to ignore the brutality, the cluster bombs, the genocide. they were cheerleaders, they martha rooted for the home team. "we will win" they said "for we are on god's side" moses that if we just left people malone, maybe things wood get better in the nick of time. but no, said the other players, for we would rather keep dropping kirshbaum's on people. that is the mark price our permissive society must pay, for we must remember that god created adam and eve, not atom and steve. what has science attained for us? we need to keep our ion the prize, and remember that you can not cell the important things. life will often intestine us in both small and large ways. life is filled with testes, but can be a real lucille ball if you learn how to esther rolle with the punches. just remember to not act like a dick, don't drive a van, and don't become a dyke. the u.s. bombed the dykes during the korean war. this was not a gay time for the korean people. it was a war crime. but there was no nuremberg for us, no trials, no one remembers, no one intones "never again."
lenny bruce once said that "if we lost world war two, truman would have been strung up by his balls." cross out truman and put in all of our leaders since, and the line still works. bruce also said, in the voice of a german war criminal on trial, "do you think you are superior because you burned your enemies from long distance without having to see what you did?"
i don't think bruce was really persecuted for saying "cocksucker," do you?
we are all on the reservation now.
except for those rich white assholes who are still running the show.
welcome to ground hog's day.

critical ass

on the last friday of each month, a lot of young men are on the look out for "critical ass." you don't need a vikki carr, or antoine carr, or truck robinson. you can bettis your life that you won't need a bus to get to critical ass. for it is indeed critical that all of us get ass once in a while. it's a good release. sinatra's recording of learning the blues was also a good release. please release me let me go, sang englebert and ernie. the two would often walk down this sesame street, but the pavement always stood beneath their feet before. did enchantment pour out of every door, or was that a sea of poor people? when it rains it poors, leaving us rich with water. i want to condensation these remarks but i didn't know what to autumn leaves out. since you've been gone, the leaves drift down my freda payne, and i don't feel o kahlo. the autumn leaves are red and a band of gold, and if you look closely, you can get a supremes view of them in motown. i wanted to diego there, and sit by the rivera. with a carribean queen on my arm, i would glide clyde to clyde gently along the ocean, as dinah and me would serenely look out upon the shore.
but greg, i must turn the page, for i think i see an uncle pinklon thomas coming, and i don't want him to hear me. i don't have much fight left, for life is a billy conn job, and if you don't have those grants like horace, it is a tough game to ed wynn. if i only had a heart, maybe things would be different. ahh, why am i lion. oz know it would still suck. at least i have dorothy's comments to green eggs and ham me on. of shakespeare's plays, i like green eggs and hamlet the best, travis. i thought i would springfield that at you out of the phil woods, and make a mclean break for it.
9/11 truth people (aka conspiracy nuts. count basie me in) are going to be throwing tea into the boston harbor. the thing is, it's cold out, and i could use a glass of tea! couldn't they just throw prune juice in? who would know the difference? bush blew up the towers. bin laden didn't blow up the projects. it's like halloween when kids go egging. what a waste of food! people are starving and you are buying dozens of eggs to throw at trains and cars and other people who happen to be walking down the block? what are we, mental midgets? (what is it with this guy and rhetorical questions? there he goes again! now it's exclamation points. when will it end? well, at least he's back to question marks. good, a period. finally, some normal punctuation around here. if they knew what i would end up using my englisg degree for.) yes, i know, i spelled english incorrectly. just checking to make sure you are still reading closely.
think about this. we work, not for the essentials of life, but for pieces of paper that can get us these essentials. (and sadly, a lot of crap too, like i pods and sex orgies) why not just cut out the middle man? we all know that money is the martha root and the vandellas of all evil. maybe if i knock on nick wood, money will go away, let me be, i don't want to see you anymore, because you'll hurt me like you hurt me before ("go away" from jackie wilson's obscure 1973 album "beautiful day." it was the 3rd track on the record, following "beautiful day" and "because of you" the "because of you" was not the old standard made popular by tony bennett, which my dad sung at the age of 7, but dan rather, a jumpy r and b tune, similar to the spinners and warwick's "then came you.") i'm sure you will find that info vitally significant as you go through life.
there, i did my good deed for the bobby darin daye.
i'm outta here.

4 comments? wow!

by the way, "i am the scottsboro boys" was an awesome comment! thank you for digging my ginsberg reference. some may che it was only a fidel castro ruz to induce such a comment, but i truly felt that it ended the blog nicely. that's how i feel. i am not going to beat around george h. w. bush's vice president, who was no jack kennedy. however, he did resemble john kennedy. jack woker me up to tell me that line, and then we listened to records on his stereo. happiness is just a thing called jo stafford, i thought, as i heard the clear sounds of standards, which made me remember april in rebecca paris, autumn in new york, and mooning in vermont. don't let the holy ghost catch you crying, ray charles said. he then asked "am i blue mitchell?" i told him no, you are ray charles, one of the stevie wonder's of the world, and you have been george shearing the joy of music with us for decades. we are lucky to live in your orbison, for everytime we are al hurt, you make us feel better. david feels like a newman everytime your records are played. once, we even convinced him to hit the abbey road with jack kennedy, but he had a woman named helen way over town, and didn't want to travel. i thought that whether helen was reddy or not, that newman was a man and his roar should have been garfield heard. he should have taken a shot. instead, he stayed home for short money, and was forced to work overtime, getting up each morning before the phoenix suns would rize. he would practically dance out of bed for his morning meal of chips and salsa, and a glass of paul newman's mango tango. luke meanwhile, was a real hustler who would always play his hand nice and cool. somebody up there may have liked him, for he was always finding items at tony's department store on zale. once, he was caught robinson the store of some sugar. there was a ray of hope that they would let it pass, in an attempt to unitas as a community, for any johnny come lately can steel. after an attempt to iron out the arrangement, which proved to be a real riddle, we settled for thyme served. we settled on the earlier spelling, which made it seem as if he had actually spent some time in prison. i don't mean to pry, son, but richard, he didn't have a pryor record, and in any case, prison is for the larry birds. it has no place in a society filled with david justice. in prison, you are likely to get your cher, sonny, of dick johnson, as there are a lack of sonny stitt recordings in prison libraries. perhaps a good stitt in movement could begin to correct this heinous injustice. perhaps if i made a personal appearance at some prisons around the nation, they would begin to tim stack their libraries with his recordings. however, i feel that i am caught between the devil and the deap blue sea, because i never knew how much red garland tape you have to go through in order to make a difference. dinah, what a difference a day made when i went to washington and actually came face to face with and met the press. the curruption, the ineptitude! g-d. but, i made a difference. stan getz it.
do you?

hrsnnzrgwhnrmhavwbsrgn

at work yesterday with the kids, politics came up. "how much longer will bush be in power?" a girl asks. till january of 2009, i respond. "crap, we will all be dead by then," she exclaims. i respond that while bush has killed a lot of people, i'm sure some of us will still be alive at that time. this draws a glare from the teacher in the room. for a split second, we are like hagler and hearns, staring each other down in the center of the ring. and then, she looks away. the girl tells me she wants hillary to win because she "will mess with all the men." i ask, "what of barack obama?" (i figured she wasn't a big kucinich booster) she goes "who? isn't that one of the guys who blew up the twin towers?" i calmly explain his father was a black kenyan and his mom a white woman from kansas. is he "one of those people?" the girl wants to know, images of bearded fellows obviously flowing through her mind. this girl, by the way, is a senior in high school. she is a likeable young girl, stylish, a cute sense of humor. sadly, she is also an american. ignorance and political illiteracy are a fundamental aspect of our lives. why should she be any different? she wants hillary. she can't tell you why. maybe just because she is a "girl," just as we root for the home team in sports. life is a brand choice, a video game, a product for us to consume. remember how bush was the "regular guy," the guy that "you could have a beer with?" now, kucinich is "too short," he's a vegan in a land of meat eaters, his wife is 30 years younger than he is. so what if he has good ideas? what do ideas matter? yes, he was right about the war in iraq, but who cares? he is not electable. why, because we are told he isn't. just as nader wasn't, or sharpton wasn't, or henry wallace wasn't, or george mcgovern wasn't, or dick gregory wasn't.
the message is good things can't happen in our culture. people with decent ideas, who believe in peace and redistributing wealth and ending racism can't ascend to positions of power. if true, what does that say about our society? and, if true, then by what right can we call ourselves a democracy? is it a democracy that elects clean shaven, right wing stick figures who claim to be religious for fear of alienating voters? is it a democracy where our leaders are hand picked by media and corporate powers? is it a democracy when our two major parties practice a brutal, bipartisan foreign policy, and have been doing so for generations?
well, you may say, i have the freedom to complain to a blank screen and to have my thoughts read by a few outcasts. if it's so bad, you may say, why don't i leave? do you have a ticket you can give me? could you pay for my movers? could you get me free language lessons? could you get me a job in my country of choice? could you convince my loved ones to move with me? no? then shut the fuck up then.
god bless america

lonely is a man with wisdom

i saw ralph nader speak at boston university last night. a tad hitchcock angrier than usual, nader hit all the right notes. he implored the students to become engaged citizens. his biting wit seemed to fly above their heads however. at one point, he spoke to the very real possibility of the reinstitution of the draft as something that should obviously concern the students. he told us that this time, the draft will come "without gender discrimination." i smirked, drawing a confused stare from a fellow audience member. there was no reaction that i could discern. nader's point was a powerful one. a world where all of us have an equal right to kill doesn't do much for those under the bombs. it brings to mind the celebration of forgotten black korean war veterans at umass boston several years back. these men wanted "credit" for what they had done. i suggested the symposium be entitled "we killed people too." at least i got a couple of laughs.
another of nader's high points came when he strongly reminded the audience that this administration has committed the most significant international crime; namely, a war of aggression. but, as he told us, "we were too busy watching american idol to do anything about it." (dolittle was robbed) this time, i at least heard myself laughing.
i commend nader for soldiering on. he still has much to say, but his audience sadly seems to be shrinking. in a school of tens of thousands, only a couple of hundred people came to hear him. he is one of the great men of our time, and yet, continues to be pounded over his 2000 push for the presidency. was nader's campaign in 2000 the nadir of his career? i say nay, dear. it was an energetic campaign that helped bring millions of young idealists into electoral politics, and it exposed people to a plethora of ideas that would have been silenced by the traditional political parties. it was the best progressive third party run for presidential power since henry wallace's run in 1948. wallace's character was also brutally assassinated. to learn more about wallace, read frank (a liberal) kofsky's book on his run for the presidency.
nader has nothing to apologize for. rather, it is we, the american people, who should be apologizing to him for not voting him into office. furthermore, we should apologize for the smears against his character by those who call themselves progressives. people like gitlin and alterman should beg forgiveness for the gutless attacks they have directed against nader.
in an age of reaction, nader dared to be progressive. we should honor his work by building a better society and not settling for this two party dictatorship that does the bidding of corporate and military power, and not the people.

thoughts: i am tired of 6 year old girls with cell phones. if families have that much money that their brat children can have cell phones, they should be donating their money to those who don't have a roof over their heads, much less a phone.

the american people are a fearful, ignorant, apathetic bunch of selfish assholes. try getting a movement for change going with those beliefs.

i work and work and work. and at the end of the month, i have lost money. it doesn't seem fair, does it? if you are not rich in this country, or at least, comfortably middle class (remember them?) your life is a circular trip to nowhere consisting of work, paying bills, and bitching. i need the latter of these activities, but i could do without the other two.

near downtown boston, their is a holocaust memorial. funny, but i didn't see any indian names.

work's greatest crime? it gets in the way of my (our) doing nothing. you show me a man doing nothing, and i'll show you someone who is not dropping bombs on people.

motivation is overrated. hitler was motivated.

that moment when you really have to pee and you go is one of the great feelings you can have, ain't it? i also like a good shit on a fall day. i realize i am treading on controversial turf here, but a good shit is a happening. come on, admit it!

suicide is underrated. it takes courage to kill yourself and end this farce known as life.

suicide bombers are not cowards. they know they can't hang with us in a conventional military sense, so they are doing what they have to do. when an algerian general was asked by a french journalist "why do you hide bombs in baby carriages," he replied "you give us your planes and we will give you our baby carriages." since we are probably not shipping a supply of b-2 bombers with cluster bombs and napalm to al qaeda anytime soon, this kind of thing will probably continue. if we want it to end, perhaps we should stop terrorizing the planet, pay reparations, and apologize for our genocidal actions. (is their a candidate running saying these things?) just a thought.

somewhere over the rainbow, i can see judy running through a garland of flowers. (an old time pun for the faithful.) i have a long faith hill to climb, but i haven't given up my elmo hope cd yet.

hang in, my reader(s?) it can't get any worse.

can it?

smash your tv and complaining is what i do best

saturday night on tv; law and order. just what nixon said we needed. yeah, let's clear the streets of those long hairs and black militants. on this particular show, a confession is gained by a member of the police force grabbing a suspect by the neck and threatening to break it. understandably, the suspect confesses. the police man than walks away in a fury. no one is there to tell us that the cop just committed an act of torture, and that the confession is therefore useless. right now, someone is being tortured in a similar way, except it is for real. it may be a young black man in a prison in chicago, or an iraqi in baghdad. shows like this make such treatment seem normal, acceptable, a part of what is. once something is seen as a part of the culture, whether it is thought of as good or not, it is that much harder to question and therefore, to remove from our culture. hence a society that emphasizes violence, torture, and general brutality will have a culture that normalizes these behaviors. it almost doesn't even matter whether the actions are criticized, for they have been made normal, and are now with us, like breathing.
this man will not be fired from the police staff. the next show will not start with a long explanation of how deplorable his behavior was. on the contrary, the man "did what he had to do." he didn't fight "with one hand tied behind his back." a nation of rambos has no time for decency, for restraint, for true law and order. true law and order would apply to the police too. it would apply to the military too. aren't the nuremberg laws "law and order?" law and order was never meant to restrain the power structure. they are allowed to act in a state of complete lawlessness. and we know that tv will be there, every step of the way, to make all of this seem right. and we will be watching.
it's not real, is it? it's real to the people being tortured into confessions. it's real to mumia and leonard peltier and the jena 6 and the surviving move members and the panthers still in prison and to those who lost loved ones in waco. power without restraint is all too real for iraqi children. everything that permeates the culture is real, for once an image exists, it is a part of the totality of possible behaviors and responses that make up our world. a german movie during the 1930's filled with anti-semitism and anti-socialism would be "real", would it not? it would be real for what it says about nazi germany, just like the products of our cinema and television speak to what our society is about. but alas, we are always one step behind. we can clearly see the horrors of the past, while we busily create their modern equivalents.
later, on mad tv, a black slave run away slave with one leg missing has been added to "the wizard of oz." a funny spoof perhaps? well, maybe you would find this funny; an imprisoned jew from a german concentration camp has been added to a spoof of the wizard of oz. he is emaciated, skin sunk into his chest, bones protruding, and singing. the tune? "if i only had some food." is this funny? if not, i ask this; why do we as a culture feel comfortable to joke about the heinous crimes within our own past? i realize there was an element in the sketch where they were mocking the racist portrayals of the past, but are we really so advanced that we can sit back and serenely mock past cultural manifestations? look around. we ain't doing so great.
a quick word on sports. i am tired of the national fixed league and the national bullshit association. did anyone see that pats game last night? defensive holding? please. we all know these games are fixed, and yet we tune in, night after night. we give up thousands of hours from our life for this crap. at least the harlem globetrotters and the wwf are honest about being dishonest. bad calls come back to me, inundate me. game six, lakers-kings. bibby fouls koby's elbow with his face. robert horry flops, and a webber hook shot is erased. or how about jabbar missing a hook shot in 1988 that would have sealed the title for the pistons, only to be put on the line, keeping the lakers alive? need we speak of the "tuck rule," allowing the pats to move on and eventually capture their 1st title? or what of the superbowl a couple of years ago between the seahawks and the steelers, where everything possible was done to make sure the steelers won? and how about a little history. the year is 1962, and it is game seven between the celtics and the then philadelphia warriors. late in the game, wilt blocks a heinsohn hook shot at least 10 feet (some have said even 15 feet) away from the basket. no matter, goaltending is called. the celtics go on to win by 2 points, and win yet another title when they beat the lakers in the next round. or, how about game five of the mavs-heat a couple of years ago, where wade missed a shot that would have sealed a crucial victory for the mavs. instead, he receives a phantom call, and the heat win. or, how about robert parish punching bill lambeer to the floor? no foul is called, no ejection is made. the ref "didn't see it." it is game 5. later, bird will go on to steal the ball and dj will score the winning bucket. the c's win by one point, and win the series in 7 games. parish is suspended for the following game, but not before the three blind mice (or was it still two then) have yet again impacted a series.
believe me, i could go and on. from pop warner to high school to the pros, games are routinely rigged. sometimes it is because of the spread, sometimes because "they" (the league, the "system", the individual ref,) just want one team to beat another, and sometimes they just don't want individual players to do well. does anyone remember how darryl dawkins was never allowed to play, often getting 3 fouls in a matter of a couple of minutes? meanwhile, moses malone would man handle the league, and never foul out of a game. dawkins could seemingly do nothing right, according to the zebras. his career was like the cuban revolution; we will never know how great he could have been because of his treatment by those in power. even so, he made some noise.
everything is bullshit in this culture.
even sports.
and we keep watching, because there ain't nothing else to do.
life can really suck.
peace.