it's the same old song

but with different chords since the guitar player has been gone.

on friday, e had a meeting with her teacher and her dean. e was told that since she was not graduating this june that she would not be excused from school on tuesday and wednesday, even though the prom was on tuesday. e did not show up for either day, but her absences were excused by this very same dean. today, e showed up and claimed to be suffering from an asthma attack, which mysteriously went away shortly after senior day started. senior day is a day where many of the seniors come back, buy their year books, sit in the park, eat pizza, and eventually, do graduation practice. e wanted to be outside all day for senior day. her teacher told her that she was free until 12:50, which would have given her close to two hours to be outside. this didn't satisfy e, so she went upstairs to her dean to see if she could be excused from classes for the day. the dean said yes!!! is this dean a secret mandatory schooling abolitionist? what's the deal here? my guess is that e is being written off as a special ed latina. "she isn't ivy league anyway, so let her have her fun." weird whatever the cause.

let's contrast this with a guy who busted his butt, a 5th year senior who went to summer school last year, signed an attendance contract, and made up work from up to 4years ago. he had lived through civil war and famine in somalia, and coming to a new country where he was constantly mocked. he had to learn a new language and culture, and saw most of his friends drop out. in any case, a dean (a different dean, rca victor who does not live in motown) contested the fact that his english grade from 2004 had been changed because of a paper the student rewrote this year. dean martin claimed this was fradulent, and called into question the integrity of the english class. martin lawrence disallowed this credit, and then forced the teacher to count up his other credits to see if he had enough to graduate. luckily, he did.

the dean said other things too. he said that "the past can not be rewritten." fellow must not have remembered his courses in u.s history. pompous, arrogant, prick. the past is constantly being rewritten! but of course, it is safer and more profitable to confine our outrage to chicken shit crap like this, instead of questioning the real crimes of revision. there is likely not a more hateful type than the administrator, who lords over his petty domain and ignores the relevant issues that surround him. he invests his profession with a mock solemnity, all the while keeping quiet on any matter of importance. this type routinely disrespects those he believes to be his social and economic inferiors, but is all too polite to those above him. he saves his outrage, confines his anger, lords over those he believes to be peasants, yearns to return to some imaginary past when people had to earn things and some imaginary concept known as "integrity" was in abundance.

in the end, it gets back to two major disappointments; humanity and education. humanity is in charge of education, which is the essential problem. more to the point, a particular type of humanity is in charge, often the worst kind; specializers and egotists, petty dictators and irrelevant academics, bureaucratic administrators and mediocre "career" men, who went to college and had no idea how they would make a buck, so they decided to get an ed. degree. the school and university is filled with humanity. hence, the results; patriotism, narrow mindedness, racism, competition, larger than life expenses, actions that are nothing if not arbitrary and hypocritical.

e? sure, you can miss that day and this day and that day again.

a? count those credits, boy. i remember black hawk down.

the thing is, you can't get away from the nightmare.

while we are at it, can i be excused for friday's classes? my mind is hurting.

and my conscience.

thanks dean, and have a jerry good day.

blog

right before the game starts, the network will put up a stat like "when a best of 7 series is tied 2-2, the team that wins game 5 wins the series 84 percent of the time." well, what do they expect the teams and the fans to do with this? perhaps the team that loses game 5 should just quit. they can rationalize it by saying "it's not worth flying half way around the country for a game 6 when we only have a 16 percent chance to win." and as a fan, why should i watch..."why this series is basically decided now. better to catch a seinfeld rerun." and dig, it's selective. when a hitter comes up in a baseball game, they don't berate us with the fact that "there is a 70 percent chance that the batter will make an out. with those odds, you might as well unload that dump you have been holding in since the 3rd inning." imagine if we lived our lives according to percentages..."well, there is only a two percent chance that i will get sex tonight, so i might as well go get a half gallon of milk."

johnny most once exclaimed "boston wins the all important 4th game!" i have a hunch he said this because boston one that particular 4th game, but i have never been able to prove it. furthermore, yesterday, eg picked the celtics to beat the pistons in 6 games, to which i replied "the only reason you say that is that detroit has already won 2 games." i think even giving them the two games they have already won pains him.

manny hit number 499 yesterday, when for millions of virgins on record, love was not such an easy game to play. he will soon become only the 24th man (pardon the sexist language, but the last time i checked, no woman has hit 500 homers in the majors) to hit 500. by the way, for all you numerology people out there, 24 is his uniform number.

funny, but they still talk about the 21 point comeback the celtics made against the nets in game 3 of the 02 playoffs. what is never mentioned is that the nets won the next 3 games of the series and went on to beat the c's 4-2. even more obscure, at least to the faithful townies and the national media, is the series the following year, when the nets swept the celtics 4-0. game 4 was culminated by kidd hitting a 3 at the buzzer right next to the celtic bench. put that in your "great moments in nba history."

can somebody please close revere beach? even calling it a beach is a crime. i don't revere revere beach, i'll tell you that much.

hillary is sticking around because "hey, you never know, my opponent could be killed. between his muslim sounding name and black features, i've practically got the nomination." the more this goes on, the more i think george clinton would be a better candidate than hillary clinton, though he would certainly be killed by june, jordan. the point is, hillary, get the funk out of the race. maybe you can run for parliment. all i know is that these bootsies were made for walking, so get up and move. long live john africa.

imagine if we all based our career plans on co-workers, bosses, or competitors being killed. "i really want to quit this job, but i think there is a good chance my supervisor could be killed by a cia conspiracy, and i want to be here when it happens." or, "i was gonna divorce my husband, but i'm pretty sure he will be killed shortly by his mistress. so if i can, i would like to avoid all the needless paperwork and legal fees."

the truth is, hillary has been a stiff from the beginning. at least she hasn't called him osama yet. must be saving that.

viva nader!

obama has said that he would meet with raul castro, but that "opposition leaders" must also have a seat at the table. what if castro said "i will meet with obama, but socialists, anarchists, and communists, must also have a seat at the table." what arrogance! raul is the leader of cuba; you either meet him or you don't. you don't make demands that you know no self respecting head of state will agree to, unless you don't really want to meet them. this is the kind of statement you make if your goal is to show that you will be "tough on cuba," (meaning you will continue the bipartisan war crime known as the cuban embargo) hence catering to the right wing and the cuban exiles. he has done the same recently with chavez, calling him a "demagogue," and saying that hamas is a "terrorist" organization. for all you mindless liberal robots out there, where in these statements does there exist even a whiff of change and progress from previous bipartisan reactionism?

and he is the best of the three.

wow.

csi

some dude on csi just said "suicide is the ultimate act of cowardice." how so? i think it's pretty damn brave. but dig, it's all point of view. the guy saying this is alive, as is the guy who wrote the line. since they are alive, they don't have the experience of having killed themselves. so, why should i listen to them talk about something they know nothing about? in fact, to me, the cowardly act is pontificating on complicated subjects in an ignorant, narrow minded way. this guy who is so down on suicide, has he said anything against war lately? why is it that veterans are so much more likely to kill themselves than the average person? in my book, it is much braver to take your own life than to drop bombs and take the lives of others. so dig, why don't we honor the families of those who have killed themselves? "your son bravely went on in this disgusting, meaningless world, until he could no longer tolerate the alienation and hypocrisy. on this day, we want to honor his courage by giving you this medal."

"the ultimate act of cowardice?" what a load of bullshit. even if you think it is cowardly, and it surely isn't, how can you say it is the ultimate form of cowardice? it's more cowardly than lynching, napalming, raping? who thinks this shit up? i am tired of all the anti-suicide people ganging up on the pro-suicide people. we always here from the "pro-life" crowd that the fetus can't speak for itself, but what of the pro-suicide crowd? it is up to us, the living, to speak for those who have already killed themselves. we need to build a grass roots, "pro-dead" movement in this country that will respond to these baseless attacks against those who have taken their own lives. the pro-life movement has had its day. it's time for the pro-dead movement. think about it; we could have suicide awareness day. we could educate the masses about the benefits of suicide. we could make people aware of some of the great men and women who have killed themselves, people such as ernest hemingway, sonny criss, alexander berkman, and abbie hoffman. it is time that we, the living, create the space where the suicides of the world can come out of the closet and claim their deadness. believe me, we shall not be moved. this is a grave issue, but if we have the stones, we will have the people singing a different tomb before long.

when tixon went to check her email, she xd out of my blog. the screen told us that she was "opening another tab." this is false. why would she open a tab? we don't even have any soda in the house. and if she was drinking one, she wouldn't go and open another one! i am tired of these computers trying to tell us what we are eating and drinking. listen computer, just shut the fuck up and let me blog.

on a serious note about soda, did you realize that fanta was created during ww2? it is a subsidiary of coca cola. they created it because they realized that it would look bad to sell coke in germany during the war. so, they created fanta and sold that in germany instead. way to beat the fascists.

talk about a cowardly act.

or, is it just capitalism?

that pic is magic

but i prefer my johnson, though you don't find it worthy. well, it doesn't have to be great, scott.

just caught nader's google speech. man, he sticks with it. he walks on, with hope in his heart. and yet, he walks alone. i had to hammer that point home, stein, though it will likely not win an oscar. the mighty wind blows in his face, the crowd mocks him, and yet, he remains standing. in fact, he is standing pat, and when i hear him speak, i remember osborne in america, and i feel proud, mary. it makes you want to go out and picket. oh, if we only had the wilson.

ralph nader plugs away, not because he should, but because he must. he is truly one of the few greats left, and he has been made out to be a joke, a relic. crazy. everything is upside down.

yes, that is what they chose to chant fuck the police about. i wonder how many of them have heard of sean bell, or the jena 6, or the still imprisoned panthers? i say to these students, and to everyone else; don't wait until it is safe. don't fight your battles in an artificial war zone. hey students, why don't you leave your classes in february? why don't you make every day senior day? why don't you stop writing the papers? why don't you sleep in? why don't you take a 2 hour lunch break? why don't hundreds of you run out on the court in the middle of a school play off game? why don't you start chanting attica in the middle of a criminal justice class? why don't you start chanting "war crimes" in the middle of a u.s. history class? why don't you start singing old show tunes in the middle of a lecture? why don't you walk around during a test and give out answers? (hey, i actually did the last two) why don't you tell your teachers that you won't be getting your diploma because you are joining the iraqi resistance?

and why don't i join you?

the problem with a prank is just that. it's not real. it's an exception to normality. it goes against what is done 99.9 percent of the time.

but the fuckheads never curse the normality.

they never see the real crimes.

as nader is silenced by indifference, and today's prank becomes tomorrow's prom.

85 bucks a ticket, baby.

and don't forget the after prom party.

i've asked that they play "this i dig of you"

i won't hold my breath.

i might die that way, and the trick, nay, the prank, is to live.

the velvet blog

is big in the underground, for weather you read it or not, man, its message is strong.

eg is at it again. my bigoted, simple minded co-worker. today, he was pissed off that the senior pranksters weren't punished further for the war crimes they committed last friday. this is the same man who has managed to not make one anti-war march. later in the day, he found time to make fun of how much celtic center kendric perkins sweats. meanwhile, he himself was sweating up a storm. eg is the kind of white guy who tried to keep the blacks and other non-whites out of basketball, than rooted for the whites against the blacks once the blacks got in, and has now been reduced to making fun of the black players and rooting for them at the same time, since there are no good white americans left. germans and serbians and canadians don't count. "fucking immigrants! let them learn english like the rest of us." eg thought jj reddick would be a great pro. he now tells me about someone named love from ucla. it seems if you are not a cracker, you are not on mr. ed's plate.

speaking of the prank, if you go to youtube, and type in brookline high prank, it is the first thing that comes up. not a whole lot to it, but it's there just the same. pinko floyd, dig the second comment.

grantstand plays as i type. green's ending on my funny valentine just ended, and blues in maude's flat has just begun. i give it a bee, author. do you think i'm write?

girl, that line was golden, no horace-ing around. senor, play some blues, mitchell. as the horn blows, i realize i need to brush my lateef, for these eastern sounds coming out of my mouth are hotter than arizona in august. the thing is, i don't want to get off my mcduff. i'll grant you, i'm lazy, but if you would show me the green, not only will i brush, but i will even throw in a little mouth wash. i am on the crest of arising, but you see, i haven't had too many idle moments since sunday mornin, and this thought has me blue and sentimental for a little leisure. some will say i was born to be blue, and if they want to feel that way, it's solid. but larry, just remember that they are still young. wait until they try to organ-ize the masses. believe me, they will give up, and retire to a lunch of a hammond cheese sandwich. for, in the end, there is no unity. if you find it on any street, it is probably in your dreams. shirley it doesn't exist in reality. patterson, maybe one of these days it will don on people that they need to live together. until then, we are fucked with the eg's at the controls.

green solos for a while on this blues. i love his use of repetition, like a great blues man, but with better chops. the man was a bitch. music, before it is anything else, is sound, and green had the sound on guitar. listen and learn.

the wife of a man who, for a time, was in search of the perfect bass player, once told a story. she was riding the train, the green line d train for those of you hip to beantown, when she got out to the suburban stops. as the train raced by, she spotted a man with his shirt pulled over his head. he was standing on his porch, facing the passing train. you guessed it; jerking off.

old folks. good tempo. another thing about green. the great ones know tempo. reminds me of a tempo ammons would pick. nice finish by mcduff.

but not by me.

thoughts

did you ever notice how middle aged west indian women still look like they are in the supremes? they haven't gotten the fashion update. still going with the over the top make up, straigtened hair, and church clothes seven days a week. and, worst of all, they are still knocking on my door on saturday mornings. the answer is still no; i don't want to become a jehovah's witness.

when did the detroit pistons become the detroit pissed ons? who is coaching this team, r. kelly? i don't mean to be flip, saunders, but, come on, somebody make a shot before my first social security check comes in. that is, if there are still such things as social security checks.

fuck senior day!

as far as names go, the blues singers were tops; howlin wolf, muddy waters, lightin hopkins, little this, big that. what the hell is jay-z compared to lightin hopkins?

on this memorial day, let us all recognize soulja boy, who judging from his appearance and lyrics, must be suffering from ptsd.

memorial day? it's not far behind the 4th of july and columbus day in the all time holidays that make you puke department.

this is another one of those cook out days, isn't it? fuck cook outs! it's already hot out, and these people need to compound it by putting smoke into the air. hey, patriots! i hope those burgers get all up in your arteries. fucking patriot fuck heads.

on the other hand, if they got rid of all the holidays which celebrate murderers and imperial conquests, i would never have a three day weekend. so, what are we waiting for? how about mobutu day? i say it's time to practice true affirmative action! let us give equal voice to the murderers of the third world. "we killed people too!"

ali beat up foreman under the dead bodies of buried political prisoners. and "the greatest" didn't say a word. can't blame that on his parkinson's. fuck ali.

remember when jesse the body ventura became jesse the mind ventura? that was the same person, right?

but what is a person, anyway?

and, what is a blog?

certainly, not this.

not anymore

puns

a doctor gave a man a clean bill of health, but told him to get more fresh ayers. the man started taking long walks. he a dorhns himself with a light illinois jacket, which he wears now more than evers. he looks a little funny according to malcolm whose ideas are usually middle of the abbie road. but on this occasion, he did not beatle around the bush. by george, he said "you better not go to the beach, boy, in that outfit." herman became a hermit from comments like this one, so i don't approve of his re-marx. i think i will karl him up and try to figure out what his engels is. once i did call him, and i interrupted his breakfast of a hegel and cream cheese. he wanted to kareem me. "don't you realize it is not the mark of a gentleman to disturb a man while he is eaton?" he bellowed. "saul got to stop doing that!" he stated, but i didn't go in for that jazz. "utah too much!" i responded, and then i went to the john and read about the stock market, which had dropped a ton. it's enough to make a man a boozer. sometimes i want to take hit of herb, but i don't have the williams. ohh, it is all so artifical, sometimes i feel like i deserve an oscar just putting a smile on my face. other times i think about moving west. in heinsohn, it's easy to look back at the past. sometimes, you just wilt under the presuure, and you don't want to stand pat any more. i would sail the river jordan if i could. yes serling, i need more than my rod. yes, dick johnson was a great playa, but was he guy smiley? did he get happy? all of me wants to know. for all we know, he is sad, for a penis is just a thing called joe, and his name is dick. in this cunt-tree grows the crops of life, liberty, and the pursuit of a penis. so pick asshole may try to paint a pretty picture, but the only thing that is real in this country, sonny, is ugliness.

senior day

today is the last day for the seniors at the school. so far, their prank has been to put a bunch of balloons in the hall way. i think they can do better...

how about a shit in? dozens of seniors could have had a high fiber breakfast topped with a glass of prune juice. sadly, there have been so shit sightings on campus so far.

after writing these words, the seniors did come up big. a number of them drove their cars through the park across the street from the school. others stood to the side singing "08" to the tune of "ole." (not the song from the coltrane album, featuring george lane) this brought the cops into the picture. a couple of students were arrested, leading to chants of "let them go, let them go!" some of the students even started chanting "fuck the police!" my gosh, what are we gonna do about these young white kids today?

now, this was a tough one. on the one side, you have the police. enough said. but on the other side, you had students driving cars through a park, one of the few car free zones left in our culture. furthermore, they actually cared that they were graduating, and that the year was "08." as if they had any control over when their parents fucked. who cares what year you graduate? and why do you need pranks at all? shake a few hands, exchange a few numbers, say bye to a few teachers, and get the fuck out of there.

by the way, if graduates from one of the predominantly poor black schools in boston were driving cars through a park and chanting "fuck the police," don't you think it would have been handled differently? probably would be front page news.

now look, you should be happy to graduate. it's a good feeling. but the students are just using it as an excuse to act out. every day, they feel repressed and sublimated, so on this day, they attain the illusion of freedom, and finally act in an improvisational manner. in fact, our lives should be filled with improvisation. we shouldn't need these recognized free spaces where we agree to let our collective hair down. and because it is a recognized free space, it comes off as artificial and forced, whereas if people were being spontaneously free, it may have a different feel to it. but it is in the nature of the society we have created to offer minor outlets as a way of better disguising the essential imprisonment which is at the center of our societal existence.

we should not need arbitrary achievements like a graduation in order to validate our worth. such validation can never be true freedom.

having said that, hearing them chant "fuck the police" was pretty cool.

of course, they will all go on to boring upper middle class lives, and will likely look to those same police to protect them as they go through life.

and they will likely again never be as mature as they were at that moment.

having the last name seaman must be pretty cool, huh? no one will ever question your manhood with that name..."dick seaman? nice to meet you." i thought of this because phil seaman is the drummer on joe harriot's free form record. i must give credit where credit is due.

seniors had to write a senior paper in order to graduate? why? no one should be forced to write. how can you tell someone to write anything. think about it. "i want you to write a ten page paper." "oh yeah? well fuck you!" imagine if a guy came up to you on the street and demanded that you write him a paper.

there is education and there is forcing someone to do something. write your own paper. i'll be over here digging blue mitchell.

but that's the set up. it's a force job. the pressure is on you to conform to the existing structure. it's never the other way around. that is why the brilliant men often go nuts. the system can't fit them in.

well, whose fault is that?

08, it's been real. but now i got to go. farewell my brethren. remember to always trust in the lord, and to pay back all of your debts. i'll see you when i see you. until then, remember to keep your dick in your pants, and if you must be a terrorist, be one outside of the u.s army.

phinko, i don't trust a word you cey, ron.

your lines are no fund. how do you expect us to bond over such lines? i don't bank on laughing at your jokes any time soon, although over time, i may grow to appreciate their value. for the stolen moment, they make no cents, and that is the abstract truth, even if it does give you the blues. i don't mean to be rudy, but i felt i had to theile you, for to keepnews to myself would not have been helpful. ron, remember that you are the mcmaster of your own fate, and you can engineer an improvement in your comments if you give your soul to the lord jesus. or, you could give your seoul to the koreans, and stop pretending to live like a rodney king. i know that line was not a riot, but i was distracted while writing it. i had a thought; why can't we all just get a long penis? i realize the society wants to police my thoughts, but i plead not guilty to the brutalization of my mind. denny wants to criticize me, but as far as i'm concerned, he can keep his mouth shut, for he is no angel himself.

the guy in charge of the copy center persists in making over the top remarks. foul language and sexual imagery abounds. but, he's gay. that seems to be his saving grace. if only someone had the will to fire him. richard, pryor to working with the priest, i had never dealt with a co-worker who was so disgusting. at least the year is almost over. the fact, is, i would like to carver up, but that would be a gaffey on my part, for you can betty that only i would get in trouble, and that would not be a step to success. for you see, i am upward bound, and i can not afford to be dealing with the h-cops at this point in my life. rather, i will persist in being an urban scholar, a john legend in my community. for umass remember that while you cannes film globally, you must act locally. cause i'm not looking for a tyson, i'm trying to win, and the only way to win is to make the rich feel they are experiencing helen earth. the rich are not our buddies. friends are for television. in reel life you have to make your movie quickly, and act now before the show is ended for good. i know i have your two thumbs up, and that means a lot to me, for wayne you have the support of the people, it makes your struggle seem a little bit shorter. for i realize it won't be easy. i will likely be put on a blakey list, for their golson is to eliminate everybody with merritt, jymie. yes, it will be an art-orous task, but if i can drum up enough support, and if stan getz the messengers out to enough people, i think we will steve soares like an eagle and fly like a donald byrd. vic torre will be ours, joe.

this should tell you a little something about the town of brookline. some parents are upset that a guy who owns an ice cream truck sells unhealthy food to their children. he parks across from the school. now, nobody is forcing these kids to buy from this guy. and by the way, i don't see these same people protesting all the pharmacies and fast food joints near by where the kids go for their daily fill of garbage. so, why stick it to this guy. furthermore, the government is selling unhealthy wars to their children, but this doesn't seem to merit a word of protest. fucking gutless liberals.

now, to be fair, the town has done something i like. the voters recently decided to change the name of the brookline high teams from the warriors to something yet to be decided. i can get with this. however, yesterday, a couple of guys i work with started bitching about the name change..."it's gonna cost the town 75,000 dollars to change all the uniforms. what a waste!" yeah, waste. not quite like the 720 million a day on the iraq war, but that might take some courage and knowledge to criticize. no, better to keep playing cowboys and indians. i listened for a while, and then said, "how about the brookline jews for a new name?" they quickly changed topics.

the story is telling. the average white guy is angry because "the liberals" have gone too far. "now, they are even changing the names of our beloved teams!" we live in a society that has not even begun to face and acknowledge the horrors of its past. and because of this, it is blind to the ongoing horrors of the present. of course, by the "society," i mean the white establishment, for surely the average indigenous person is hip to the genocide. wow, the white man rebels against the smallest apology, fights againt even the most miniscule of acknowledgements. and so, the sickness which will eventually envelop us all grows.

they really haven't found a replacement for the orgasism, have they?

a little about the hip hop cracker. a couple days ago, this white student who sounds black was making fun of latinos. i'm gonna need a score card soon. lately, he has been putting his hand over his mouth in front of muslim students and doing a stereotypical native war cry. i asked him "what are you doing? don't you realize that is insulting?" he responded "if i wanted to insult him, i would have called him the n-word." i dead panned, "if you wanted to insult a kid from pakistan, you would call him the n-word?" he said "yeah."

you know, they used to argue that the white man was racist because he didn't have contact with blacks and other people of color. well, here is a cracker ass cracker with a formidable rap collection who grew up in a housing project. cross lack of contact as an explanation off the list.

could it be that the white man really is the devil? hard to accept while listening to bennett sing "once upon a time" but nothing else seems to fit.

a couple of days ago, b was asked what grade she was in. she replied "she is supposed to be a 10th grader." well, i'm "supposed" to be malcolm x. i'm not, but i'm supposed to be. this is the same girl who stood outside our class door during the middle of our lunch. i went to the door. she asked "is it time for class yet?" i replied that she had lunch for another 20 minutes, and that she didn't even have our class next any way. 5 minutes later, she was back, again standing by the door. her sense of time is weirder than ornette's.

ok brook, don't get benton out of shape that the blog is ending. you knew it was only a matter of time, kiddio, before it ended. i'm gonna go watch some baseball. i hope it's not a rainy night in georgia.

until we meet again, some sunny day, i wish you a vera good day.

i, critic

idea for a joke; a guy sees a film by a good director, but he doesn't like it. he writes a review called "death of a sayles, man." punko suggests i should see a classic french film, but i think that if you've seen one, you've seen malle. you have to godard against watching too manny of these films, ramirez. but with my luc, i'll probably see one soon. girl, you'll be a woman soon; soon, you'll need a man. neil, that line was a diamond in the rough. my lines stay tight. you know how? because every sunday, billy, i neil down and pray, and my lines rebound like moses.

a man goes to the beach, sees a girl, and thinks of a tune..."it's the same old thong, but with a different meaning since you've been gone." the tune is set to the melody of four, which is tops in my book.

remember the bumper sticker "god made the irish number one." (i know, they are such fuck heads, aren't they?) well, how about "god made the spanish number juan."

a mann should never smoke herb, e. pat once said "osborne in a strict household, and nunn of us smoked, michael." michael, by the way, rode the boat a shore and walked home in time for dinah. considering he lived in washington, this was no easy feet.

you can't go home again. especially if someone has changed the locks. i was gonna change my locks, but i dred doing it, scott. and by the way, why is scott considered great? and which scott are we talking about? michael scott? he's not even a real person, chuck. hey, put down that rifleman! if it means that much to you, he's real! charles brown was a real person, but just thinking of him gives me the blues record, eugene. eugenes are in good shape, but you could do something about those shues, gene. remember, i am chi, so keep the love talk light. don't get too dramatics. and, if you are going to ring my dells, be gentle. or gentile. i was gonna go for gentile floors, but settled on hard wood. i could use some hard wood right about now, but sadly, i am softer than a fat man's stomach.

game 1, celtics-pistons. another 2:30 hours of my life, about to be wasted. well, at least i have a slim waist, ted, because i had the williams to change my diet. actually, all i changed was my shirt sizes. they got bigger, so now, i look smaller. now, i can breathe a cyborg of relief, and mellish the beauty that is me. i figured that was better than stapling my stomach.

ok, pink man, it's been colorful, but i have to move on down the line.

bob, theile you have the impulse to read again. meanwhile louis, i will be in the malle, just another joe in his arena.

peace

lenny bruce...american

hombre means herbie mann, and paul newman is herbie mann, so go frank wess young herbie mann, go wess. give a hoot, play the flute. i enjoyed the puns of pinko. pinko has been known to cozy up to red china. i once saw him fondling chyna. it was something i had to wrestle with for a long time, and as lawler knows, i don't wrestle men. wait a second, i have to kaufman. zehme get a drink a water and i'll be right back. andy came back quickly! he didn't even skip a line.

baby got back. well, of course she's got back! that would be quite a problem if a baby didn't have a back. perhaps the back was thrown out. you ever wonder why people are still throwing backs out. it's past time that they recycle them. i'll get back to this at a later date, if i can stomach it.

george carlin...nigerian.

i am up against the wald-ron, for you see, i am mal-adjusted. the thing is charlie, i have not been a roused for a while. perhaps i have been monk like for too long. but now george, i would like to joyner center, for her art like ways are taylor maid for my manhattan sensibilities. oh, if i could only depart to her chambers, but alas, my thoughts are off bass, so carter away from my mind, ron. i know you doug that line. others may say wat, but we are a kins in our thinking. but keep in mind pinko that you will never be red mitchell, though you may harold land a gig time after time. by the way, have you heard sinatra's tribute to another great singer, "this love of nat king cole mine?" good shit. the tune helped to make him a kay starr, but i just thought it was o kay. the tune was quite a cash cow, and the audience wouldn't let him moo vaughn until he would sing it, and being johnny on the spot, he wood do it in the nick of time. yes, at the root of it all, it was a gay affair, but it was nizer than a lot of other things. people in the crowd would hugus, even those in virginia, which is where it's pratt.

chris rock is joe rock and the skyliners

an italian joke; everytime it rains, it rains penne from heaven.

richard pryor to that line, where was i? for it is eddie murphy's law to not get steve mixed up by your own puns. this turn of events is certainly not what the doctor j ordered. if this goes on any mo, i will turn pinko in the cheeks with embarrasment. never mind my dennis johnson. the old dick lost whatever sax appeal it used to have, for i have lost the sparky due to the fact that i haven't had a miele in three days. three days? we've only been on the boat two days. i didn't eat yesterday, i didn't eat today, and i'm not gonna eat tomorrow; that makes three days. well, in a tad, i will hitch this cock of mine, for it is no drill, sargent.

why is it a man can be named north or west, but never south or east?

to all of you angry about your partners and jobs, i remind you that hundreds of people have starved since i started this blog. comforting, huh?

oh lord, don't let them drop the mccain on us. please lord, raise mccain. and get him the hell away from us.

has anybody here seen my old friend martin? yeah, he's in lawrence.

has anybody here seen my old friend john? yeah, it's in the bathroom. sorry, that line was crap. i just don't want to repeat the same old shit is all.

the truth is, i am a wanderer, though i may end up in belmont, but i don't know where or when. sorry to give you the run around, sue, but just keep in mind that i only have eyes for you. and now, quicker than a flamingo, i will change the subject.

jackie mclean once said about recording for a certain record label "it was like being under the nazis and not knowing it." this describes the life of the average american perfectly. unfortunately, most americans can't tell the phil woods from the jimmy forest. it's enough to drive a man up a tree, rollins.

so, as the hawk blows from a record called stasch, i bid you a farewell.

paul, your shooting pierced my heart

and now, my cavs hurt a little, anthony. as far as ray allen goes, he might as well be woody allen, or ray charles. but seriously, lebron and pierce went toe to toe. good stuff. sadly, the men in green won the game. at least most wasn't around to yell about bird stealing the ball. some were around, but not most.

kevin is going to costner a fortune, sonny, but what will it costas? in the end, sam will attempt to build cassell's in the air, but we are better off with eddie house. rondo you know what i mean? i hear you, sonny redd, playing the mode, but first let's deal with the mean. i'll grant you that if you want to hear blue you are better off with redd.

there is a teacher at brookline high that still says "red china." he is also 6'11. this explains why i didn't say anything.

i was gonna go to denzel washington to protest the war, but the driver got lost in the forest whitaker, so we were stuck looking at birds. i listened to cat anderson and relaxed, but other passengers got testes and began to ball their fists. they duked it out. i began to count the swings. like a goodman, i didn't fight, but i did egg them on by saying cheese and singing smile. it was not a pretty picture. someone even committed digital rape. i began to analog the events in my journal. i told jamal i made abu boo by forgetting to skip lines. he began to peltier me with rocks. we had a row to the death, which ended when i sprained my ed pinckney. the battle joe kleined from there. i became despondent. i figured out what robert parish i was in, and i went to charlotte church to pray. this was mchaled as a turning point in my life. my dennis johnson began to grow when i met a pretty girl in the choir. i preached to her about the wonders of my bird. yes, i found the ainge, just as the chorus sang danny boy. irish i could relive those moments again and again. jewish it too, don't you? italian you, those were the days. i'd flip if i could live them again. but it seems the good times are over, and that is not dynamite. i feel maude, lynn. well, please keep all these feelings in the family. for you see, life is war, and we are all in the bunker now. by george jefferson, happy days will not be here again. i am not trying to be flip wilson, i am just speaking to all who will gleason. and now, the end is near. i wouldn't mind an end being near right about now. it would beat this computer, raven screen. take note of the liners i am throwing at you, sonny. this stitt is tight. i feel like a collosus, as the tenor madness envelops me, and i have thoughts of movin out, somewhere way out west, perhaps to a suite down by the riverside where i can experience freedom and keepnews to myself. let the others have the prestige. i will drink the weinstock. i theile you no lie. the truth is, i have the impulse to record these thoughts for posterity. to be frank, i want to live from here to eternity. let others jump over clifts, or march for justice in montgomery. even if stars fall on alabama, and fill the land, causing my leg to be put in a cast, or, those marchers end up in alcatraz, i will still be free as a bird, man. life is what i want, the eternal springer, for i am just an ordinary joe undergoing a paterno-ty test because i am too povich to raise children, or as my mom's friend with the laughing face says, choldrin. yes, my penn will state my case, of witch i'm certain. i am in the joe hunt for something special, for this is no run of the miller time we are living in. albee sure to remember that life is an art, as the music of edward kennedy ellington serenades the sophisticated ladies who haunt my solitude. for you see, i have it bad and that ain't good. i am in a sentimental mood, perhaps one could even call it a mood indigo.

well, i got to get the one o'clock jump on the kids, as i count the time before they arrive.

back to basies

it is better to givens than to robin from the people

for to robin steal is to live as an outcast, and you will get a rap record before long. you will become a public enemy, so before you act, let's chew the fat, boy, because i don't want to see your vanilla behind put on ice, baby. cause man, being put on ice will tea you off good, dude. being on ice is some serious shit. ain't nobody on ice askin you what 5 cubed is. by the way, it's 125.

fucking idiots. every single one of them. don't ask me to explain.

reading colbert; i am america, and so can you. pretty good. have been on an ishmael reed kick since the pink one mentioned him. speaking of which, it is spring, but sadly, i am still white. just read both the terrible twos and the terrible threes, which were both four tops in my book. i have the temptations to read reed further. perhaps my girl can read him as well. i ain't too proud to beg her to read his books, for i know it's not just my imagination that they are good. it's the way he does the things he does whick makes his writing so strong.

also have a book out called "when the prisoners ran walpole" which is the main prison near boston. for a while in the early 70's, prisoners had a say in how the prison was operated. i look forward to reading the book, which is by an author who favors prison abolition.

a thought; the world would be a safer place if we freed everyone from the prisons, and then jailed the government and abolished the corporations. think about that. that's how fucked up it is.

nobody wants to admit that evolution is true. but perhaps it isn't. i think we have degenerated from earlier species. these earlier species never contemplated and prepared for nuclear war. so, that's it; i believe in degeneration. furthermore, i am not concerned about the age of rocks, but the rock of ages. seriously, science, like religion, or any other body of information, is man made. hence, men are always favored. we create human-centric bodies of knowledge, then study them, get degrees in them, and consider ourselves educated. the fact is, we don't know shit. we are overrated, and you know why? because we are the ones doing the rating! we made the whole fucking thing up.

man has no sense of proportion. take me for example. i think i am a bad motherfucker. complete nonsense. although i do take pride in owning a benny bailey cd. i think that gives me an edge.

back to man; no other being is as artifial. we are so cut off from the real, trapped in structures of our own making. no dog ever thought of reality tv, no wolf ever poisoned a river, no cow ever fought a war. evolution? no. more like devaluation, arrogance, disrespect. i call for a new body of scientific knowledge known as "man's massive ego trip." a three credit course. evolution and god made man in his own image. these really aren't the opposites that their advocates believe them to be.

what an arrogant collection of assholes, housed on planet earth.

for the moment.

going there

threw in some lines today about the accused van driver mentioned in the last blog. "i got to say this about him; he was always on time. he was a genius with the turn signals, and he was a very safe driver. he always got you there. i just hope they take that into consideration." i then immediately lapsed into an angry rednecked response. " ahh, you can't joke about a thing like this, you oughta be ashamed of yourself." i got a nervous laugh, and a quick change of the subject.

lenny bruce

"i've always dug playboy, gent, dude, all the stroke mags. you know why i buy them? i like to look at the chicks man! i don't need a nelson algren short story for rationalization."

"the main attraction in vegas? tits and ass." "ah man, that can't be all." "well, they throw in a tango dancer for rationalization, but basically, it's tits and ass."

" i can't believe this guy became a child molester. he had such a religious upbringing." "they all do. and now, he's gonna have to pay the dues for it."

carver showed a picture of a soldier from ww1 with his face blown off. this set him off again. "this still happens to soldiers now, but we don't support them." hey, look buddy, i didn't send this guy half way around the world to get his face blown off, so don't get pissed at me. besides, if you are so against faces being blown off, shouldn't you be anti-war, not supportive of those fighting them? as a student said in the class "nobody forced them to go, they signed up."

support the troops? you know what i say?

fuck the troops. i'd give a pimp a medal before i gave one to a soldier.

well, what's worse, sex or war?

my dad met manny ramirez yesterday. manny was sampling free food at a whole foods yesterday, when my dad went up to him and said "i just want to shake your hand" manny shook his hand, and then gave my dad a hug! dad said it was up there with speaking with jackie wilson in his dressing room at pep's in philly, talking to roland kirk at a table, also at pep's, and meeting david "fathead" newman after newman blew a bad set in boston several years back, when pinko was still in beantown. dad said that manny's vibe was awesome, very relaxed, gentle. manny and father of fielding; a couple of good dudes.

running for something

funny how we can't get worked up about war or poverty anymore, but let somebody try to rub up against someone on the train, and all hell breaks loose. because we love the sensational, the individual. and we hate to acknowledge how powerless we are, and just how awful the entire structure is.

give you an example. yesterday, it came out that a van driver in the town of brookline likely molested a special ed. student who rides his bus. teachers and staff were up in arms, everyone was infuriated. the teacher i work for said she hoped the arresting officers "beat the shit out of him." you would think a teacher would be vaguely aware of the concept "innocent until proven guilty." now, granted this is a terrible thing, if true, but why does something like this set everyone off? i've never heard this teacher, or anyone else at the school, say "they ought to beat the shit out of that ignorant patriot who dropped those bombs on defenseless iraqis." maybe she said it when i was out of the room.

something like this satisfies for a number of reasons...

1) it's local. the closer the better. wow, this happened in our town! our drivers are more perverted than your drivers!

2) it allows one an anguish that is essentially conservative. no one (i should say, no white person) expresses nearly the same amount of outrage when a cop murders an unarmed black man. no, because then we might need to address issues like police brutality and institutional racism, and this would mean standing up to entrenched power. not a safe endeavor. no, much safer to berate alleged sexual perverts. this does nothing. the predator has already acted. but, i suppose it does allow us to feel a sort of puritan arrogance. sort of like watching springer..."oh my god, how disgusting! these people are sick!" you don't need to build a social movement in order to feel that way. they are tears without cost, sort of like putting up a holocaust memorial.

3) superficially, it puts you on the side of children. "i care about our youth, unlike this monster." oh yeah, while you teach them lies, while your tax dollars support war, while you stand by and allow yet another generation to be demonized because of their race and class? the fact is, these artificial humanitarians don't give a fuck about children.

4) it creates the good guy vs. bad guy dichotomy. we love that in this country. we are good, the terrorists are bad. christians good, atheists bad. no need to think, no need to question our sick culture which has helped to create more and more sick people. we are innocent, he is guilty. even though there has been no trial. even though the student can't talk. no matter. throw him to the wolves. santiago was his name? probably an illegal anyway! god, you give them work, and this is what you get! oh yeah, it's all connected. scratch a concerned, law abiding moralist and you are likely to find a bigoted asshole.

so yeah, we like our tragedies safe, committed by lone lunatics. oswald, james earl ray, sexual predators, trailer park trash. we like incest and perverts and religious nuts and neo-nazis. it helps to keep our attention away from the war crimes.

as you can gather, i kept my thoughts to myself while the issue was being discussed.

speaking of a crime that won't make the news, george washington carver (the teacher next door, whose last name is carver) started bitching in class today about how apathetic we are in this country while our soldiers are fighting in iraq. "during world war one, we were united. (kept debs and goldman and the sedition act to myself) now, we just go about our business. we ignore it." then, he became crazed. "do you remember how you felt on september 12th, 2001? (i didn't have the heart to tell him that the students were around 9 years old then. besides, at that moment he looked like hitler after a bad date) i do. i wanted to kick some ass. i told a friend that if you aren't in america, we are coming to get you. i wanted to blow everything up." the class got quiet, looked around. i sneared. he got control of himself, and switched gears, bringing it back to ww 1.

no one will talk about this. no one will say "he ought to get his ass kicked." no one will say this man should be taken off the streets, and never be allowed to come close to a child for as long as he lives. for you see, the real predators are making it. the real predators are doing just fine.

welcome to the jungle.

as the world burns, george

i say goodnight, gracie, because there but for the gracie of god go i. yes, the world can not b free of us. it is a long shot if we will make it. i was talking to my brother about it and said, "well at least i don't have a carmichael." woman, i realize that i am prone to excess, but i will not take the destruction of the earth lion down. i prey things will turn around. if i had it in my black power to improve things, i would, but when the u.s. government decides to drop the h bomb, it will be a rap for all of us. and no one will care what pi equals, or if apples are better than oranges, or that brown recorded for king records. for, when x marks the spot, their will be more than a little damage, and we will not live happily evers after. all will be dead, from those with a pinko huey to the seales that bobby and weavers in the seeger. so, goodnight irene. irene on me when you're not darryl armstrong, so you won't withers away. but, in the end, you will, george, so why should we beet around the bush tree? death awaits.

idea for a show; herr and her. a teenager named herr has the run of a house, and several girls compete to win his love. herr and her. kind of grows on you. like a wart.

80 percent of americans still believe in the devil. i knew that 80 percent believed in angels, but at least they are positive. devils? well, some have been seen playing hockey in new jersey.

the celtics are on the roper. i give them two tom thumbs down. if only the series was shorter. in any case, it is tied ju-ju. if lebron plays like the real mccoy and not like an average joe, i think the cavs elvin the series. ron, at least carter isn't on their team. that woud drive me vinsane for ryan out loud.

there is a bird inside me. i had turkey for lunch. hope i don't chuck it up. maybe i'll go for ham on rye next time.

women; they are half the planet.

i'd rather be here than at the post office.

a terrible earthquake has hit china. about 10,000 have been reported dead so far.

40,000 people die every day of starvation. this has not been reported so far. i looked for it on tv and in the papers. nothing. no one seems to care about this, other than the ones dying that is, until someone describes the deaths as a "holocaust." than people get upset, for nothing can be compared to the holocaust. but isn't that how a lot of the people died in the camps? weren't they starved to death? so, it's like this; when the world develops an economic system which murders millions of people each year, this is unfortunate, but not a crime, especially when most of those dying have dark skin and no money.

everything is bullshit. everything. well, maybe not taking a shit.

bye bye, ms american pie, violence is as american as you.

that's a rap.

to be young, of average talent, and jewish

i suppose there is no book with this ya title. perhaps a book such as this could unitas, johnny, from the fields of joe montana to the mean streets of philly, joe jones. perhaps this book would be good for the young, steve, as well as for those who are 49ers and 76ers. the book would also include lyrics to old tunes, such as "houston rockets, warren moon shots, spend it on, the have nots." if someone had the flintstones to print such a book, i believe many people would have a gaye old time reading it.

perhaps, a jet, son, could get us into kevin spacey, but it would costas plenty, bob. than we could make a movie of it and we could watch it in our denzels. maybe we could get funding from washington? we could darwin a spot on prime tv. it would be a natural selection. we would title it "the origin of feces." a shit title perhaps, but we have a crap budget. we could film on location in newton.

the film would bart starr atom sandler, and would be written by eve ensler. lamar would make a guess appearance, since he odom alot of money. well, he is a real gasol anyway. he thought he could cut it as a farmar, but his crops were overrun by the river jordan. that's the problem with planting by a nearby laker. well, the next time the guy goes to bynum a house, maybe he'll think twice about the locale. or, one could become a boozer. hey, it's better than driving a carlos what with gas being up to 4 bucks a gallon. jason, they have got to be kidding us with these price mark ups. it is enough to make a man nash his teeth, unless one has stocktons in the gas companies. but, in this system, dwayne, i suppose one has to wade through the garbage. and beyond gas, tony, we often have to pay to parker the antoine carr as well. the thing is jason, i don't have the williams to drive in such a society. i would bettis you anything that you are better off taking a bus or an l trane in today's world.

in the lakers game yesterday, kobe only seemed to be hurt when he had to get back on d. on offense, he felt good enough to take 34 shots. there was one play where he missed a shot, went down when he didn't get the call, forced his team to play 4 on 5, allowing utah to score, but then, when the lakers had the ball again, he had the energy to take the bill to the rim and score! if someone is injured, they are injured all the time, not just on the defensive side of the ball! fuck kobe.

i am tired of being taken for cary granted. by the way, what will they try to bag obama on next? that he once watched a r rated film when he was 15?

that cyclone has been in the news lately. i say we ban the song "shake it like a cyclone" until that situation clears up. seriously, with cyclones and earthquakes and hurricanes, you wouldn't think that we would create more disasters. it makes you realize the whole thing is so arbitrary. 10,000 people just got killed because they happen to live in an area that experienced a natural disaster, as i sit here blogging, very much alive. makes me think of carlin. "if there is a god, maybe, just maybe, he doesn't give a shit." for, where is the "divine plan" in a cyclone? i remember an uncle of tixon's bemoaning the fact "that those people in india who died in that earthquake didn't have time to find jesus." of course, that disaster mainly struck indonesia, but sadly, the religious among us seem just as ignorant when it comes to geography. perhaps that is why they died? you see, they were heathens, thy didn't "know" god. perhaps this explains 9/11, katrina, all the wars. well hey, the old testament god was one violent son of a gun, so why not? just think, katrina as part of a "divine plan," just part of "god's will." so, let's just throw up our hands. don't feed the hungry, for it's god's will that people starve. fascism meets religion. come to think of it, they have gotten along pretty well over the years. now, of course, we have had our share of great religious men and women as well, but proof of the good doesn't wash away proof of the bad. i am tired of religious, no, all pomposity and arrogance. jesus saves? tell that to a guy whose ribs are protruding. we fight for freedom? tell that to a guy whose house is being bulldozed. if you want to ignore suffering, go ahead, but don't disguise your indifference with religion and capitalism.

but, of course, in the end, it's just jobs. if i can hustle, why not hustle on the up and up? if i can sell, why not sell the lord, or "operation enduring freedom?" it's no secret that the greatest hustlers in the world are the legal hustlers, the peddlers of christ and war.

the greatest hustlers in the world are the legal ones. someone should tell that to the prison guards.

ah, they wouldn't hear the message. when your job is dependent upon you being deaf, you don't hear. it's a simple as that. and that is the issue. our jobs, our system in general, are dependent upon our collective blindness and deafness.

peace, helen keller.

ode to pinko

i may have to go to a hospital ward for laughing my brains out at the stuff you put on my blog. if it gets serious, please go to a churchill and pray for me. at this time, i throw myself at the lord, who is currently on vacation in the hamptons. i plead to him "forgive me, for i have zinned. i should have gone to howard university, but i couldn't spellman. since then, i have bin laden with guilt, and even the immortal technique of john coltrane often doesn't get me to my destination. i want out. if only i could make a mclean break of it. don't you see doctor, i've had my phil. i want to escape into the woods. if i only had an alto acre of land that i could mark up and call my own. but alas, i am akon man, and i am lonely, mr lonely. i need to stitt down and gather my thoughts, as the sonny shines crissply down on me. and as i look up, i notice that a raven has flown onto my screen and broken it, but i am too poe to replace it."

yes, i have an on again, lonergan relationship with kevin, my coworker. i either hate him or courtney love him. there are times i want to throw sanders in his face. and then i remember pinko who had the will, son, to post a tune by wilson. man, what will he cooke up next? that shit was cole blooded, fit for a king james, and every time i am brown in the dumps, i lebron on these songs and dr. feel good. i think about what you are trying to do me, and i feel a sense of freedom, of respect, and i say a little prayer for all the stevie wondrous things out there in the world, which is a far cry from what most people do. yes, you are a ray of sunshine in a world gone dark, as the rivers charles remains dirty, and all i do is cry and joan about it, when what i should do is get out of the johnny and alert a secret agent man over what is happening. but alas, he would likely shoot an edwin starr, and a war would start, destroying my 25 miles davis albums, and leaving angela all alone to speak in a german accent which is not germane to the topic. well, we will all be french toast someday, fried like the chicken we have all become, for unless we are egged on by the roar of the greasepaint and the smell of the crowd, we sit on our learned, dead, hands. and while others may dance the charlton, moses dancing won't help you, michael nunn. it won't even help you win a james toney award, or to get a guess spot on the joe frazier show. perhaps i should just give up on the dream, and become a foreman, but by george, i want moore, archie moore. bob, i can not theile a lie, even when i have the impulse to do so. that would be rudy, and people would take weinstock of my action. and yet, right now, a fickle sonance plays within me, as i grab jackie's bags and milt under the pressure, jackson. i pick up the vibraphone, but the operator says that will be 10 sense. i give her my two cents, but she calls me crazy. i de-cline to be a patsy, so i hang up and go out walking round midnight for miles in search of a pay phone. i waste all davis, so i take the coltrane home, eventually returning to my chambers but not after robbing peter to pay paul, who works for the train. i saw a max roach on the tracks, and realized that if i were buddy rich, things would be different. what kind of fool am i? i thought. what kind of shelly manne is this, what do i know of the good life? once upon a time, i thought that if i ruled the world, things would be different. well, some will say that the best is yet to come. i can only bob hope they are right, but i fear that i will be george burned yet again by life. i gleason to them, but i think to myself, life is no lucille ball when you have a little richard. that was a berle of wisdom, wasn't it? nothing like a little milton to wash the blues away from this bobby bland existence. so, the next time your robert johnson gets soft, and you feel that you can't get a woody guthrie, perhaps you will seeger what i mean. for now, i will drag my leadbelly away from this raven screen.

sonny, i am through.

shadow play

the town of brookline voted to extend the school day an extra 2 hours a week starting next year. 4 of the days will be 20 minutes longer, and 1 day will be 40 minutes longer. man, i found the 6 hour day, and they went and took it from me. these residents are under the illusion that a longer school day is a good thing. many people in our society still seem to think that an institutionalized education is a good thing. in truth, it is far inferior to free time, and the personalized education that develops from people having free time. when do i listen to jazz? my free time. when do i take walks? my free time. when do i read? my free time. extending the school day is a waste of money for the tax payers and a further murdering of young people's lives. it gets back to the job of education, which is to train young people to fit into the existing society. this is the problem. a true education would train people to locate the extent of society's problems, and would stress the necessity of combating those problems before it is too late. furthermore, true education is inner directed. i listen to jazz because i like it, not because i have a class on it for 50 minutes a day. i read a book because i want to, not because a paper is due next week. education in our society, like work, is dictated to us. we are forced to do it, obligated to engage in a curriculum that is already in place and that has nothing to do with our interests. to some extent, this is corrected in college, but by then, the joy of learning has already been killed for most americans. so what do we do? we do more of the same! we make the school day longer, we give more homework, and we create more standardized tests. we are driving down a one way street, and we have concluded that the smartest thing to do is drive straight into the wall. so, now two hours of my life have been taken from me. if i'm hired back next year.

went on a job interview yesterday. as soon as i saw the guy interviewing me, i knew i was in trouble. you know the type. slick, short hair, mustache without a beard, dress shirt tucked in, generic cotton docker pants, white as a ghost, air of arrogance, as if he was born to be in charge. he sits down, takes a look at my resume. "well, i see you have been at brookline for a long time" ie "you have been a fucking low wage paraprofessional for ages! don't you have any ambition?" i thought of many replies... "how long have you been at your job?" or "yeah, you know why i'm still there? because i hate going on dumb job interviews." they talk to you like they know you. they judge you, they think they can sum you up based on a piece of paper and a couple of short replies to stupid questions that they have stolen from a "conducting interviews for dummies" book. these arrogant mediocrities with their meaningless power, they think they mean something. well guess what, fuckheads? the poisoned air, water, and food, and the falling bombs, will get you to. just watch. and your stupid white privilege and petty power and dress shirts and elitist arrogance will do nothing for you. for you see, a pine box doesn't play favorites, and in the end, the masters of war will also be murdered.

so, i am still jobless for the summer. the interview is a crime against our collective individuality and sense of self. think about it. you are on the auction block. you are being eyed, sized up. are you worthy? should you be hired? what do you have to offer? in that moment, you are like all the others. shirt tucked in, hair combed and washed, generic docker pants. you feel like a sell out, even though nothing has really happened, but you know. you know that the whole thing is evil and that you are a part of it. "come in, take a seat. can you close the door behind you? so, tell me a little about yourself...." man, what a bullshit structure we have created.

random thoughts and observations.

the culinary teacher was wearing a che guevara t-shirt today. he thought che was from mexico. someone told him he was from argentina. he said "mexico, argentina, same thing." when the guys who think mexico and argentina are the same thing are wearing che shirts, it makes you yearn to see more alligator shirts. but it's like what lenny said about making the marches. to paraphrase, the squares are marching now. more deeply, it shows the true face of consumer culture. che? nice shirt. he's that cool looking guy with the angry look on his face. don't know where he's
from, or what he did, but hey, it was on sale. stupid white cooking teachers.


great pic, pinko. disney was a right wing fascist, so it works on a number of levels. signed, daffy duck. sorry, donald. excuse my goofy behavior, which is more like that of a being from pluto than a human being.

a white kid who is down with the blacks went up to a teacher and asked for a buck. the teacher said no. the hip hop cracker said "you let that white kid borrow a dollar yesterday! that's racist!" now, we have had these white guys pretending to be black for a while, but what gets me is that they are starting to think they are actually black. interesting. funny, but to my knowledge, not one of these guys has been unjustly killed by the police. the cops, it seems, still know who is who.

even if no one else does.

for example, today n, a male student, claimed that he had hot flashes.

on that note, (high c, which i will drink) good day.

something tells me

i shouldn't click on a blog whose title is "sperm bank."

why is it that everytime i'm watching a game, some stupid guy in charge of the sound system puts harry belafonte on? daaaaaaaaaaaaaaayo! and of course, the mindless zombies in the crowd have to repeat it.

i must be getting really bitter, but it seems to me that there is no such thing as perfect weather anymore. i go from too cold to too hot.

i used to wonder, was i an anarchist, a socialist, a communist, a social democrat, a democratic socialist, an anarcho-communist? i finally realized that i am an angry, alienated asshole. since then, i feel much better.

alot of liberals are concerned that obama and hillary are fighting each other too hard, that democrats need to unite. this struggle is supposedly "bad for america." funny, but i don't recall these people saying that polluted water, cancer causing food, and bad air were harmful to america. they don't seem to be too concerned about "the war on terror" or the murder of innocent people by the police. but this is a problem. they are beating each other up, and this will make it easier for mccain in the general election. punks.

today,eddie, my socially fucked coworker, said "why do we even have unions anyway?" i guess we still have a few admirers of the 14 hour day out there. man, the ignorance.

today, we live in a everyman for himself culture of disconnected, greedy, selfish idiots who have no conception of class struggle. othr than that, they are charming souls.

remember that book, all souls? well, how could a guy write a book about every soul? as soon as it was published, it would be out of date.

"more than any other time in history, man faces a crossroads. one path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. the other, to total extinction. let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly."

woody allen from "my speech to the graduates" published in his book "side effects."

bertrand russell on man, from "an outline of intellectual rubbish" taken from "unpopular essays"

"is he not an individual of the species homo sapiens? alone among animals, he has an immortal soul, and is rational. he knows the difference between good and evil, and has learnt the multiplication table. did not god make him in his own image? and was not everything created for his convenience? the sun was made to light the day, and the moon to light the night, though the moon, by some oversight, only shines during half the nocturnal hours. the raw fruits of the earth were made for human sustenance. even the white tails of rabbits, according to some theologians, have a purpose, namely to make it easier for sportsmen to shoot them. there are, it is true, some inconveniences: lions and tigers are too fierce, the summer is too hot and the winter is too cold. but those things only began after adam ate the apple. before that, all animals were vegetarian, and the season was always spring. if only adam had been content with peaches and nectarines, grapes and pears and pineapples, these blessings would still be ours."

i wonder if it was a granny smith. if so, he really messed up. well, up and adam till the eve comes.

so far

in history class, we are "learning" about the the taft and wilson administrations. yes, there is a little more than a month left in the school year, and we are still about 100 years in the past. if the subject was taught well, this would be a problem, but considering how it is taught, it's probably better that they don't learn about the recent past. wilson is portrayed as a progressive. what's progressive about him? getting us into world war one? blowing up latin america? segregating all government offices and praising "birth of a nation?" opposing women's suffrage? fuck wilson! he had no will, son.

yeah man, creed is a bitch. "alot of those jazz cats were blind" cats!! and there was no hint that was coming. i love that about the show. stuff just kind of gets thrown at you. good shit.

how could lebron go 2 for 18? come on, beat the c's god damn it!!

i constantly feel that i am in between. i don't want to work but i feel funny not working. i don't like money but i am afraid to live without it. i believe school to be meaningless and yet fought hard to get a's when i was a student. i am a radical who lives a conservative life. i am two. i am the man in the mirror. i am the man in the looking glass.

how could james brown move his feet and legs so quickly?

i am tired of hearing how rappers david "sample" from other songs. from where i come from, that is known as copying. and when did it become all about the producer? "produced by diddy." who gives a shit? does anyone remember that voyle gilmore produced sinatra's albums? do i own "boss tenor" because esmond edwards produced it? when i hear dolphy solo on round midnight, do i think to myself "orrin keepnews produced this?" yes, producers help, but it is the people making the music that count. but of course, we live in an overproduced era, an era of formulaic and generic sounds. people are looking to hear a certain sound, not the mastery of an individual performer. they don't even know what mastery is. produced by...please.

and i'm tired of people blaming the sound system. "yo, we are gonna get started as soon as this sound system starts working." shut up and sing!

the teacher next store gives progress reports where the student is getting 80's on all their work, but is averaging in the 70's for the semester. am i missing something here?

the gay kid i teach is now saying that he is "bisexual." is this something that he is floating by us to see how it goes? no one has the guts to be true to who they really are. and i'm not just talking about sexuality. i don't tell anyone that i think america is a neo-fascist country that needs to be radically changed. i keep my thoughts to myself, join in in stupid conversations, play the everyman to keep from sticking out. i'm just as guilty as all the rest.

at least roger clemens has a good sex life. you've got to give him that.

i miss tom jones already. i especially love it when it looks like his head is about to fall off and his arms are flying all over the place. pinko, for a good laugh check out his 3 and a half minute version of delilah (the two minute version doesn't include the operatic finish) on youtube. the power, the cheese, the laugh. "this is tom jones." i mean, that was actually the name of the show..."this is tom jones." well, who else would it be? it's his show!

the difference? the bad performers of yesterday are often good for a laugh. celine dion has yet to make me smile.

nothing against stevie wonder, but the man really helped to destroy r and b. the over singing, the high pitch, the lack of taste, terrible diction, poor breath control. other than that, the guy was a heck of a singer.

so long friends.

my day

in biology class today, we covered evolution. the teacher was showing slides of old bones, when a student asked "are these bones before christ?" the teacher said yes. the student said "nothing is before christ." well, even using her logic, what about god? to say nothing of mary and joe. this same student has asked repeatedly "isn't it true that scientists hate god?" as if they had a personal relationship with the deity. "oh yeah, god? he's a no good prick!" when you think about it, the science teacher is really up against it, because he or she can't say what they truly feel. and this is in "liberal brookline." christ!!

in the class that i teach today, a girl came in stressed because she had just taken a test in her ap government class. "do you think you passed?" i asked. (i never ask if a student did well, because that doesn't matter to me. what matters to me is that they pass, so they can move on and eventually get the hell out of school. that's about as "well" as it gets.) she shrugged. "well, the sun will rise either way" i offered. "besides, what is there to learn in a class on government?" i continued. "just remember that governments are almost always run by corrupt fools, and you'll be fine." she smiled.

later, the class played jeopardy, because i'm tired of giving out tedious work. so, i thought i'd have them play a tedious game. one of the groups decided they wanted to be called "team 69." i agreed to it, which set off a number of giggles. eventually, a student objected to the name, so i changed the name to "team 96." this seemed to pacify him. a few students didn't know what it meant, and asked questions about its meaning. i stated in mock seriousness that they could find out in their spare time. one student suggested that he would look it up on the computer. i said that i thought this would be ok, as long as the computer didn't have a virus. eventually, the more knowing students said they would inform their ignorant counter parts after class.

not to get too deep about this, but i do think there is a pedagogical issue here. the student likes to throw stuff at the teacher to see how the teacher will react. if the teacher doesn't mind it, plays it off, and even incorporates the silliness into the class, the students are more likely to dig the class and the teacher. in general, you have got to let people express themselves, as long as it is within bounds, and you have got to make those bounds as loose as possible. for when you have done that, then you will be able to express yourself and you will be a little more free. and that's really what it's all about, right?

well, it's got to be about something other than war and hypocrisy.

at least i hope so.

from the headlines

"rice pushes for mideast peace" yeah, by killing all the non-jews.

"food banks struggle with supply, demand" as in, not enough food, too many hungry people.

"black clergy call wright out of step" left unsaid is that to be in step means to kiss the white man's ass.

"porn stars suffer during strikes" yes, their balls are suffering during the strike.

"fat renewal may be key to obesity" ???

"first lady escapes iraq bomb attack" didn't the first lady die hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of years ago? so, how could she escape an attack that just happened?

"yankees cruise, 8-2" well, if they were cruising, how did they find time to play baseball?

carlin on sex..."between aids and herpes, i may never fuck again."

silberg on sex..."only a man who is getting sex would ever say it is overrated. ask a man who hasn't been laid since clinton was in power if sex is overrated."

ran into silberg the other day. the thing is, i never watch where i am going. in any case, we spoke of many things, fools and kings, and this he said to me.

he told me to shut the fuck up.

and so i will

from the paper, slightly altered

marvel turns "i, ron man" into movie gold.

"i, ron man" was pure gold at the box office. the marvel comics adaption, starring the great ronaldo pinko, as the guy in the metal suit, hauled in $100.7 million its opening weekend and $104.2 million since debuting thursday night, the second best premiere ever for a non-sequel, according to studio estimates yesterday.

the film also scored overseas, with $96.7 million in 57 countries where it began opening wednesday, putting its worldwide total at $201 million. over %90 of this $96.7 million was made from the viewership of filipinos, who "flipped" over the film, i mean movie.

the great pinko was humbled by the experience. in fact, to celebrate, he was gonna eat humble pie, but it went against his dietary code. pinko wanted to thank god, but then remembered that he is an atheist. ronaldo stated "that he really felt the character," and that "the character was pinko, down to his underwear." in fact, he felt the character so much, that filming had to be delayed while he fought a her ass meant charge. ronaldo threatened to soccer, for which he later kicked himself after he calmed down.

kobe bryant had 23 foul shots yesterday. i'd be the best player in the world too if i got 23 foul shots in a game.

karen horney was a freudian from the 50's. they used to pronounce her name hornay, but everybody knew the truth, especially after she was charged with masturbating in a pubic place.

what do you think the nba wants to see, lakers-celtics, or utah-orlando? someone is gonna be playing 8 on 5 this spring, and it ain't the lakers or the celtics.

pinko, bruce leroy was actually a black dude. last dragon baby, last dragon. i didn't know dragon would drag-on, but it sure did.

ok, so pat robertson can call for the murder of hugo chavez, and jerry falwell can blame 9/11 on feminists and homosexuals, but rev. wright can't attack racism? mccain curries favor with white, right wing ministers, and no one says a thing, while obama runs scared from the man who presided over his wedding. so basically, if your message is a conservative one, you can say what you want. if you blame the right people, the fidels, the hugos, the feminists, the radicals, you are ok. and it's not just a white/black issue. they have also been attacking obama because he is neighbors wth bill ayers, a guy who in his youth was a leader of the weather underground. ayers is a villian because he is a left wing radical, but robertson is not a villian because he is a right wing radical. imagine if ayers, or anyone else, called for the murder of bush? think there would be repurcussions?

i suppose wright's strongest comment is that hiv was invented by whites to kill blacks. perhaps a bizarre remark, but again, certainly no more bizarre (and certainly more grounded in the historical truth. see harriet jacobs "medical apartheid") than falwell blaming 9/11 on lesbians.

no, it is not extremism that is feared, it's the truth. if someone tries to tell the truth in this country, they get put down and attacked. now, if that truth teller has said some extreme things, they will use that against him, but they are only doing it because they don't like his general message. they use what they want, they quote out of context, they save things for 20 years and then use them when it serves their purpose, they lie and call you a liar.

they start wars and call their opponents murderers.

what else is there to say???

standing pat

with p. p always says that his aide is a black guy, even though his aide is white. so far today, his aide has been leadbelly, robert johnson, sly stone, danny glover, and mos def. two days ago, p randomly mentioned scott joplin. in awe, i uttered "the old piano player?" i went to google images, and got a picture of him. he too became p's aide. to be fair, the aide has also been osama bin laden, ho chi minh, and saddam hussein.

picked up a tom jones dvd from the library. what a laugh! the guy had monster pipes, but there is perhaps no greater waste of a voice in the history of pop music. in any case, he had his own tv show for a few years in the late 60's-early 70's. every body was on it apparently. the dvd has peter sellers, richard pryor, the who janis joplin, aretha franklin, stevie wonder, moody blues, pat paulson, and little richard. jones is a character, a cross between a vegas act, an r and b shouter, and overflowing with an operatic register. his dancing is absolutely horrendous, as is his vocal taste, but there is no denying his presence, charisma, and vocal power. in the end, it is terribly campy and entertaining at the same time.

a word about a young aretha franklin. at her best, she was tough to beat. she wasn't always the lady with four breasts who gets out of breath every time she bends over to tie her shoes. she sang with power, range, and a gospel sensibility that captured the essence of the black musical tradition. she was also a pretty good piano player. her sin? longevity. we remember sam cooke for "a change is gonna come" and aretha as the lady that doesn't fit onto our tv screens. but man, in her day? wow.

peter sellers? a funny man, even though they say he was a real prick. "i suspect everyone, and i suspect no one."

speaking of comedy, carlin's you are all diseased from 99 ranks up there as one of his great performances. i love how he mentions the willy nelson classic "i should have never played the game, i should have fucked oh what's her name." he also reminds us that "colin powell is not openly black. colin powell is openly white. he just happens to be black." great stuff from george. in any case, just remember that he loves you. he loves you and he needs money!!!

does colin powell have the jones to tom, or will he cry uncle before he spots a ray of sunshine?

mos def people didn't hear the dialogue in "be kind rewind." and when jack told me the screen went black, i realized they couldn't see it either.

opening today in theaters nation wide is pinko's debut film. i, ron man, based on the filipino-american comic book character of the same name, is sure to pacquio them in, with manny people expected to attend over the weekend. the film is a marvel with several comic moments of high quality. it is expected to do very well in dc, where i, ron man became famous for protesting the i, mother fucker gatherings in 99. he then boasted "i shook up the world bank, i shook up the world bank!," but sonny, nobody would liston to him. now, he is back. once again, i, ron man has demonstrated his medal

on running into

i was flying down the street in an attempt to catch a bus when i heard a voice holler "mellish!" i turned, and recognized a guy i went to high school with. he's a decent guy, but it sucks just the same, you know? well, we start to rap, but unfortunately, diddy wasn't around to produce it. he asks me "what i'm up to?" i know this is code for "are you making any money? are you a success?" but i play it literally. "i'm just coming from my parents house. i try to get over there a couple of nights a week." he nods, and continues. "besides that, what else are you doing?" i didn't have the heart to tell him "reading, blogging, listening to jazz, rooting against the celtics, and watching porn" so i gave in. "i work at brookline high." he assumed from this that i teach there. he rode me a little for not working in boston. supposedly, i should be "giving something back." well, the fact is, i don't have the slightest idea what i took, so what am i supposed to give back? motherfucker, i live in boston! seriously, the irony of a black guy bagging a jewish guy on "selling out" has a kind of charm, so it didn't really bother me. if i could only sell out for more than 13:40 an hour. in any case, i told him that i tried boston, but that brookline called back, and boston didn't. for his part, he is "going back to school, getting my masters." in an awkward slip of the tongue, i asked "what are you in for?"

his girlfriend showed up, gave me a "who the fuck is this cracker" look, which was one of the highlights of the whole thing. seemed like a nice young woman. than, the obligatory struggle over accepting a ride home. he insisted. i refused. the woman wanted to move on. he persisted further. i held strong. he got my number though. i felt funny giving a fake one. i walked off, the cool air a close friend.

the thing is, he's a good guy. big smile, warm greeting, full of fond memories.

and yet, agony is agony.

"what have i been up to?" trying not to jump, pal.

he probably wouldn't have dug it.

sonny, the pink co. has gone up 23 chers.

i never promised you a vegetable garden, and yet, the beet goes on.

supposedly, roger clemens may have had an affair with a girl when she was 15. he claims there was no sex until she was 18. now, just what does he mean by sex? perhaps the rocket has merely been getting blow jobs for the last three years. they are also saying that roger's son has been using his private plane to pick up girls. now, all of this is certainly tacky, and perhaps even crimial, but isn't the whole point of being rich is that you can act like an arrogant asshole? if we have a problem with that, we should attack it at the martha root.

obama is certainly no shirley chisolm. when asked about the possible negative impact her campaign could get from being supported by the black panthers, she said "the people that are upset at that weren't going to vote for me in the first place." but you see, obama has a chance to win, and that brings out the worst in a person. not that there is much good there to begin with. think about this; the great black men have historically made most white people feel uneasy, even angry. most whites hated malcolm x, huey newton, and many, including the government, detested king. a great black man makes the average white man uneasy, because a great black man tells the truth, and the truth is the last thing a white man wants to hear. at least when it comes to race. obama is not telling the truth about race. perhaps he doesn't know the truth. i don't know which, but the fact is, he is still standing because enough whites have been made to feel good by him. and this is the essential reason why i don't trust him. i know a lot of blacks are supporting him, but a lot of blacks supported jesse jackson too, and he didn't do this well.

obama is in it to win. that's the problem.

i wonder what fidel is up to these days?

went to a may day rally. sad. the same few stalwarts. some bikers, a few anarchists, a guy i knew from college, dan the bagel man. there was a counter demo too, typical shit head racists waiving the american flag. i wanted to kick their ass, but i only win fights in my imagination, so i backed off. left after about 20 minutes. some guy kept coming up to me trying to hand me a communist paper. it must have happened 4 times. every 5 minutes he would return and try to hand it to me. there was a spanish translator on the stage even though there were very few, if any, latinos. reminded me of a woody allen film. the guy was screaming in spanish! luckily, my mom was with me and we had a few good laughs. if only albert parsons was there to share the laugh with us. hey, he would only be about 160.

hooray for the movement. unfortunately, it has become a bowel movement.

why, if only we could build an ass roots bowel movement, we could flush this system down the toilet. instead, it's the same old shit.

and old man river, just keeps blogging along.