here's to you, mrs. truck robinson

mclean tells me that the new soil is greasy and is not good for his byrd. i am not lion, alfred, when i tell you that i wish he wouldn't strike such a blue note. oh, mercy, mercy me, for this is certainly not a gaye time that we live in. i wish i could tell you what's going on with the ecology, but right now, my time is filled up with listening to mercury records. the albums radiate a great warmth. i wish i could burn them, but i don't have a brando record player that can convert them. so now, i am singing these inner city blues, which berry gordy opposes, but howe is gordy supposed to know how i feel. all i know is it's either one thing orr it's another, so we have all got to stick with it, even when it seems we are treading on thin ice.

gaye once said that jesus was his friend, proving that jesus was hip on the issue of homosexuality.

what, to the fourth of july, is your slave?

i am hearing that paul newman is likely near the end, so i just want to salute him for the hustler and cool hand luke, two of the great american movies. i'm sure coming from me, this means a lot to paul. i hope it makes him feel like a newman. coming from david, it may even give him a fat head. if that doesn't do it, perhaps the porno i sent him in the mail will do the trick, though it is hard for a video to do a trick.

brando named his auto "songs my mother taught me," but i don't remember him telling us what songs his mother actually taught him. and if she did teach him songs, what key were they in? i hope they are not in my key, for i don't want to come home and find brando's casket in my hall way. furthermore, if brando did indeed learn songs, did he learn them off of records or from sheet music? did he have a real book and a fake book, and if so, why didn't he ever jam at wally's when he came through boston? if he had, it would have been electric, which is more than i can say for darren barrett. pinko, i hope you are enjoying the fusion this blog has become. in its silent way, i think it shows that you don't need a weather report to tell you which way my wind is blowing.

i don't mean to be mean, but i think you may be able to trace the roots of robotic tenor to george coleman. a bitch of a player, but he's a guy whose feeling, and individualized tone, doesn't quite seem to match his technique, which is the problem i have with modern horn playing. most of it has a schooled, almost inhuman quality. also, most modern playing, and colemen did this as well, acts to "clean up" coltrane. it takes his lines, and aspects of his tone, and makes that a style, but it is really not a style at all. if you want trane, listen to him. there is no substitute for the real thing. or, listen to his contemporaries, men such as booker ervin and harold land, who incorporated elements of his approach, but who were towering individualists in their own right. having said that, i'll take coleman over just about anyone out there now.

great scott, my shit ain't rusty, for there is soul coming through south station on this stormy monday. if you are a walker, you will do some cool struttin, and hear some music that is by no means bland. if you are out to lunch, or simply waiting for your trane, grab a seat, take out your clark bar, sonny, and listen. the mayer of the tenor, tiny tim, will be blowing the most, art, as he will pepper his solos with quotes, perhaps even from the adams family theme song. he once had the stones to quote those of flint, which i wish players would do moore of. he was once described as a sicko for exposing himself, but we later found out that it was dick johnson. the accusation sparked a miele, but luckily, it was all caught on film, eventually allowing him to become a friedman. i kidd you not. i know this horror story reads like something out of a jason story. i realize it may make you want to nash your teeth, but you can always shaq up with me if you are scared, and o'neal on me when you are not strong, until your fear withers away. then, i will bill you for the support i gave you. you can send me a dollar bill now, and more bills later.

if you show me the elway to the john, i'll show you how to get to montana, joe.

and make sure to pull gennifer flower's hair when you get to san francisco.

ttfn.

what to the slave is your 4th of july?

for that matter, what to the slave is your 5th of july? so, on the 4th of july, we celebrate our independence. but, who are we independent from? landlords? the phone company? the gas company? the media? the police? the government? most of us seem to lack independence. so, let us instead celebrate our lack of independence. let the retail clerks and waiters and cashiers and laundry operators and all the others come together and celebrate their lack of power.

and speaking of independence, we don't seem to value cuba's political independence too much, do we? what about iraq? no, we want a dependent world, dependent upon us. and when other countries decide they would like to decide things for themselves, we destroy their independent hopes. and by the way, why are there so many fucking e's in independent? and why am i saying the word independent so often?

so, our love of independence is rather fickle. but, for most, it isn't really about independence; it's about getting together with others and having a good time. and i guess that's ok, but who are these others? see, that's a problem right there; they are others. they are not me! right off the bat, they are suspect. a few, like tixon and pinko, and my immediate family, pass the test, but most remain "the others." faceless members of the crowd who insist on making noise. it isn't their fault; most of them are quite nice. a lot of them probably have much to offer, and yet, i begrudge them. i begrudge their cook outs and their friday night club appearances and you name it.

so, if most of us are more into the hanging out than the fact that it's the 4th, why don't we all get together on malcolm's birthday, or, on the day the americans were forced to leave vietnam?

so yeah, obviously it does have political meaning, because no one short of a left wing loon would think of getting together on these days, which is kind of sad, ain't it?

there is a day, june 19th, i believe in 1865 (it might be 1866) when slavery officially ended. only about 2 weeks before the 4th, it is pretty much an anniversary ignored by most americans. now, since we all love freedom and independence, and since slavery lasted about 80 years after "independence," why don't we all get together on june 19th every year? think we could win enough whites over?

perhaps, since most of them don't really know what the fuck is going on anyway.

but no, tradition is one thing they do know, as in, traditionally we control everything.

so, let us all get together and celebrate tradition.

white, american, tradition.

happy 4th.

on driving a nova to my casa

the chevy ended up in a chase, i tell you straight.

nader has accused the big o of "talking white." since i haven't heard obama say "like" 345 times in the course of a speech, nader may not be accurate with this statement. seriously, this goes back to something i have been saying for a while, which is why i am jamaica pond-ering a lawsuit against nader for stealing my ideas. in fact, i was gonna wear the lawsuit, but i didn't have a good pair of pants to go with it. and why is it a pair of pants when it is only one pair of pants? how is it possible to have one pair? the next time a guy is playing cards, when he has one 6, he should say he has a pair of 6's. might add to his back account.

now, we can question the phrase "talking white," especially coming from a man of lebanese descent who is not known for dancing a killer lindy hop. but the tenor (i will deal with the alto later) of his remarks are true. the latest example of the big o's paleness came with his reaction to the supreme court decision banning the death penalty in cases of child rape. now, of course, child rape is a heinous act, as is rape in general, but dig what this reaction of his means. apparently, obama thinks that being convicted and being guilty are the same thing. if he were "not talking white," perhaps he would have made a speech pointing out this compelling difference. alot of black men, and other unlucky souls (and bodies for that matter) have been convicted of crimes they are innocent of. you would think a "liberal, progressive" would be aware of this. in fact, a real progressive would talk about how the courts and police often work in a racist and class biased manner against blacks, native people, latinos, and the poor of all colors.

now, what of the death penalty in general? what are we, still in old testament times? and speaking of the old testament, i seem to remember "thou shalt not kill" in there somewhere, but you better check me on that, for i haven't opened a bible in a while. so, we are going to show that rape is bad by doing the one thing that is worse? and the death penalty, like convictions in general, tends to be applied in a racist and class biased manner. check out who is on death row; ain't too many buddy rich motherfuckers there, i'll tell you that. just trying to be a drum major for peace, folks. that's me; a shelley manne of compassion.

this law would have made it ok to muuder convicted rapists who have raped a child, not necessarily named chris, 12 or under. i hate these arbitrary cut off points; what if the kid had just turned 13? "man, you are lucky you didn't rape 2 days ago. you would be one dead asshole!" now, again, rape is a terrible thing, but what about a guy who rountinely beats the shit of his kids? should we kill all child abusers? what's worse, one rape or a thousand beatings? and of course, many of these pseudo-moralists out there who are repulsed by child rape continue to tell us to "apply the rod" to our children. now, i don't know about you, but the only rod i want being applied to children is that of rod serling. (it took all i had not to write "serloin." pinko, i hope you aren't too down on me for this gutless display.)

so yeah, obama's sound is a little too pale for me, but i'm not running for president either. to win in our culture, i suppose he doesn't have much choice, but that doesn't make what he is doing right. what it is going to take is people making systemic critiques of the system, and some of those people will have to run for office and try to build political parties. of course, they will have no chance of winning, and maybe they never will, but the society needs to hear these arguments clearly stated and made by those who can reach a mass audience. it is not only winning that counts. standing for something also counts.

hey man, just stand for good things, and then you can talk any fuckin way you want.

and by the way, when you think about it, child rapists are "applying the rod." you would think they would make our authoritarian, christian, moralists out there happy. but sadly, it seems that no one wants to come together in our culture. well, i'll keep trying to build bridges, todd.

build bridges in yugoslavia, don't bomb them.

better yet, give the death penalty to those who bombed bridges in yugoslavia.

i'll have to ask the big o what he thinks of that.

the news should be called the olds

as in, the same old shit. just read that a majority of americans trust mccain over obama to handle the war in iraq. why, because he was captured during the vietnam war? how are we supposed to trust him to keep other soldiers safe, when he couldn't even keep himself safe? that's like having a guy give an exam because he was caught cheating on the same exam. a fair amount of these nimrods probably think that obama is really a muslim, as if that would be a crime. man, shit is scary.

by the way, this mccain that people trust is the same guy that said that the war in iraq could go on for a hundred years. if that's the case, they should make the same soldiers who started the war have to finish it. i'd like to see an 120 year old out there trying to cope with the baghdad heat.

more politics. on father's day, obama gave a speech at a black church in which he stated that black fathers need to step up and support their families. who is this guy, the new bill cosby? of course, his approval ratings shot up, and the white media praised him for the "courage" it took to make the speech. first of all, how does knocking black men in this country show courage? that's probably the safest thing you can do around here! furthermore, there are absent fathers from all ethnic backgrounds. why doesn't a mccain, or any white politician, feel the need to go to a white place of worship, and deride the white men who beat, rape, or leave their families? when are white political leaders going to show "courage" and attack the problems in "their" communities? the fact is, these are american problems. they can not be put on the backs of any one racial or ethnic group. the fact that we continue to do so (think crime and drug use as well) is in itself racism. in this society, the black man is made to take the fall. we have the problem of "black on black" crime, but when south boston was going up in flames in the 70's, documented in "all souls," this was never referred to as "white on white" crime, or "irish on irish" crime. and when white men rape their children, or beat their wives, we don't hear anyone talk about how the "white man" needs to get his act together and take care of his family. also, completely left out of these racist diatribes is the lack of work, unequal policing, and generalized institutional racism that makes it tough for black men to raise families in our culture. no, that might take a brain, and some compassion, to make that speech, and if you made it, your approval ratings would probably not sky rocket. and boy, do they love it when a black guy comes out and does the white man's job of degrading the black man. man, do they love that. it gives the criticisms credibility, disguises the racism, legitimizes the stereotypes and simplifications.

so yeah, we got a battle between a brain dead right wing moron, and a white man's black man, who most white people probably still won't vote for.

as jb would say, "living in america"

on leisure

don't you hate those titles..."on leisure." pompous asshole! that's almost as bad as the "early years." "picasso; the early years." fuck that.

in any case, it is a good feeling to sleep in, to take a walk, to actually not dread scott doing house work. they say that a house cleaner has no rights that the rest of us are bound to respect, but with leisure, everybody respects everybody. although i suppose it would have been better to get hitler a hobby.

take today. i slept to 11. i got up and heard a message asking me to do the dishes, which i hadn't done since people were still excited about ron paul. but first, i went for a walk at the local pond, where i pondered many things, such as "when should i do the dishes? should i get a slice of pizza? what pandora station should i listen to today? should i rewatch sicko, or just return it? or perhaps i can compromise and just watch the special features?" by the way, how did we survive before special features? imagine having to be sustained by the movie alone. sort of like those folks before skim milk. how did they ever make it?

yeah, digging the free time. free time is the shit. i'll take it over money anyday, though sadly, the electric company has a slightly different view. imagine if everyone, instead of nagging you with "what are you doing?" asked "do you still have plenty of free time?" the sad thing is in our culture if you can't convert what you are doing into money, most people don't value it. is there anything sadder than that?

rollins is playing from the bridge album. to my ears, his tone is not as good as it was on the 50's prestige and blue notes. also, i think he may be thinking too much, instead of just blowing. of course, the album is considered a classic, but i really don't think rollins has done much on record since the 50's. someone once called my dad a "musical reactionary" and perhaps the term applies to me as well. hey, i can't help it if i think "settin the pace" is a better album than "a love supreme," out there" superior to "out to lunch," and i believe that "soul station" is more compelling than any ornette recording. sorry. it brings to mind an old line from zoot sims. once he said that he liked a dixieland group, and the more modern players got on him for it. he replied, "well fellows, you know that i don't have very good taste." by the way, zoot once gave a homeless guy a buck, but insisted that he spend it on booze, and when asked how could he play so well while loaded, answered "i practice when i'm loaded." dig anything zoot ever played. he is one of those guys who always satisfies.

well, i suppose you can tell from this blog that i've got some free time on my hands. in fact, i've got about 8 seconds on my hands that i should probably wash off.

man, if i were around in the 50's, i would have voted for ike...

ike quebec.

one more story. charlie parker was two hours late for a gig, when the club manager stormed into his dressing room and demanded that he play. bird answered "don't you realize it is disrespectful to disturb a man while he is eating?" which come to think of it, brings to mind groucho. man, in the old days, the great musicians were personalities too. we don't have that now.

what do we have now? well, we have the documents left behind by the great ones of yesterday.

saw a card with a picture of a regular phone and a cell phone. underneath, it said "what we call progress is replacing one nuisance with another nuisance."

i would like to end with the words from a postcard i purchased yesterday...

Religious Truth

Taoism: Shit Happens

Buddhism: If shit happens, it really isn't shit.

Hinduism: This shit has happened before.

Islam: If shit happens, it is the will of Allah.

Catholicism: Shit happens because you deserve it.

Protestantism: Work harder, or shit will happen.

Materialist: Whoever dies with the most shit, wins!

Atheist: I can't believe this shit.

Agnostic: I don't know shit, and neither do you!

Judaism: Why does shit always happen to us?

Eco-spiritual: Compost happens. It's all good shit.

Rastafarianism: Let's smoke this shit.

on the back, the card reads...

"religious truth. one dozen different perspectives. religious intolerance. narrow thinking. no sense of humor. bad shit. celebrate spiritual diversity. coexist! think globally, shit locally."

yeah, "think globally, shit locally."

why didn't i think of that?

carlin

there are few great ones. george carlin was one of the great ones. as a comedian, he had few, if any, equals. the thing about carlin was that he satisfied on two levels. first of all, he was a damn funny man. his timing was great, his voices and mannerisms superb. and then, there was his intellect. george carlin was one smart dude, and that seperated him from the others. at the end of the day, for stand up, there is bruce, carlin, and pryor, and that is really where it's at.

the thing about losing someone of carlin's stature is that there is no one to replace him. sinatra once said that he wished someone would pick up on his art before it died right where it was, and that is where we are at this moment. the great ones are leaving this earth, and they are not being replaced. for a guy like carlin comes from a particular scene. born in depression new york, getting his start in the cold war 50's, and hitting his stride in the happening 60's, carlin was like the great jazz musicians, actors, and singers who came from a similar background. there is something there that we don't have, a tender toughness if you will, a deep sense of humor, an iconoclastic individualism, a fearlessness. of course, just about everybody sucked then too, but still, at least there were a few great ones.

and carlin was one of them. of course, they will tell us he was known for his 7 dirty words, but man, that's just the beginning. he told us so much. he reminded us that "all a house is a place to put your stuff, while you go out and get more stuff." he observed "that isn't it ironic that the people who are against abortion are the ones you wouldn't want to fuck in the first place?" he told us "that we can bomb the shit out of your country! especially if you got some brown people." and he loved to pick apart our silly sayings, such as "lock him up and throw away the key." "where? outside the jail? his friends will find it!" he reminded us that in baseball, the object of the game is "to go home!" he told white people "to stick to those faggy ass polkas and that disgusting country line dancing you do" and "to be white, be proud, and get the fuck off the dance floor!" he also insisted that white guys not wear their hats backward, but since blacks started it, they could wear them that way until they turned 65. and no matter your race, "you go girl should probably go." also, "if white people are gonna bomb black churches, i think black people should start bombing the house of blues. house of blues? it's really the house of lame, white motherfuckers. time to start bombing these locations." he stated "we came up with the sanctity of life and the death penalty. aren't we flexible?"

man, the man said so much. the only thing to do is to dig him. luckily, there is a ton of his shit available, as he rarely flushed. seriously, dig the hbo shows for a start, all of which are on youtube in their entirety.

and remember to fuck lance armstrong, tiger woods, and dr. phil. not all at once, and certainly not with the same condom. i'm with you george, i too am tired of the media telling me who to like and what to care about. man, right till the end, george was warning us about how they can take our rights from us anytime they choose. he even remembered the interned japanese americans.

damn george, you were the shit.

george carlin
1937-2008

just being myself

and when you think about it, that can be pretty weird. like, i requested a dizzy reece box set from the library. i just dug a quartet album he made called "soundin off." basically, who gives a shit? who even knows who dizzy reece is. no, he is not the guy with the big cheeks, mo. he was a good trumpet player though. i especially dig the one with mobley on tenor called "star bright." he tries new things, doesn't just run changes, has a good tone. again, who gives a shit? well, i do, and i guess that will have to be enough. also, i know i can always count on the pink man, and the old man. well, i guess i will have to sea if more jazz fans come my hemingway. meanwhile, i wait in an earnest fashion for like minded listeners of music, but it seems that heller will freeze over before the average joe begins to dig america's only true art form. if they asked me, i could write a book about the jazz masters, but sadly, i don't have the hart to initiate the project. perhaps that is why the man is a tramp? all i know is that i am bewitched, bothered, and bewildered, and even my pal joey doesn't seem to be able to help my mood swings. i just can't figure out the worth of anything. holy cow, what is hay worth? to be frank, i don't know. i could ask kim, but she probably wouldn't no, and that would leave me in a vak-uum. james tells me that life is worthy, but he will never be mc-haled as a powerful messenger. but still, there is a bird inside of me that i only let out at night. sadly, the cat ate him. my, there are too many strays in this parish, and they rob the lives of all the little bird fellows in loin cloths.

yeah, just being myself, listening to music that hardly anyone else digs, telling jokes that hardly anyone else digs, writing blogs that hardly anyone else will read, cocky for no good cause, a radical in thought and apolitical in action. all in all, a decent guy, but the world cries out for so much more from people like me, who have a sense of how fucked up it all is. but that might entail laying it on the line, and that brother, i ain't really up for.

because man, i got a couple more of these reece discs to get to, and then it's the herbie nichols box set, (by the way, pink man, i dig nichols, an obscure piano player who blue note recorded in the mid 50's. i'll try to lay him on you at some point) the bobby bland recordings on duke, the bennie green mosaic set......

yeah man, just being myself. as the world burns. al keep trying to hide from the gore, and beatin around the bush, being myself. just tryin to keep from gettin too dizzy, digging reece. man this shit may not be too bright, but i never claimed to be no star, and while i sing these blues, i don't see the trinity anywhere in sight, and perhaps that is why i am soundin off. perhaps i will now listen to trane play spiritual, or go with an old gospel thing like swing low, sweet harriot. maybe i will write a poem in free form, or contemplate a run for mayer as i sit on my john.

just thoughts man, just me being myself, as i try to get through the final act of this shadow play.

everything is closing

first, it was dino's. i thought it was the best pizza in the world. when i graduated college, we went to dino's afterward. me and pinko would walk for hours, and then tackle a large cheese, dino's being the best possible destination. my dad used to take me there when i was a little kid. i went there on my mom's b-day, with tixon, on mother's day, on father's day, you name it. carmen, the owner, recently sold it. at least he wasn't forced to move by a landlord, or bankrupt, but it still sucked, because when a great place is lost, it is not replaced. man, what a pizza joint. once, i ate in little italy in new york. it was the place where sinatra and the mob used to hang. to me, it wasn't even close. dino's by a mile. the same for the north end in boston. dino's of brookline village; that was it for pizza.

and now, they are closing goodtime of somerville. the landlord wants them out by the end of the month. they are going to put up an IKEA, a furniture joint, in its place. goodtime was a one of a kind place. it featured dozens of movie screens, which showed every ball game under the sun. there were arcade games, food, batting cages, a basketball court, pool tables, cheap booze, no cover charge, no dress code, and a diversity that i have never seen anywhere else. people of all ages, races, and classes would come together and hang. many a night, me and my dad would come in and request that they put on a net game. they always did. for the next two and a half hours, we screamed and cheered alone, unmolested by the nagging waiters that normally ruin your day. we saw many a kidd triple double at goodtime. during the summer months, it was a great place to go for the ac and a sox game. i cut high school to go there. i went there with friends. i went there with tixon. in fact, it was the first place we went after we started going out again. and now, it will be gone, replaced by another gutless example of corporate america.

as we move along, each town becomes more like the other, with the same stores. local flavor has been replaced by the generic seasoning that is corporatism. and if you recall, a certain italian dictator once said that "fascism can be better understood as corporatism." all examples of local soul, all things that have spirit, that embody creativity and uniqueness, are under attack by an uncaring thirst for profit, and an indifferent populace that accepts, and often embraces, the mutilations of our communities.

i remember about 10 years ago, there was an old jazz club called connolly's right here in boston. it was across the street from the ruggles t stop, in a predominantly black neighborhood. coleman hawkins played in boston. in fact, i have a postcard of him taken there. zoot sims played there. billie holliday sang there. my dad walked in there once and heard jackie wilson's "a woman, a lover, a friend" blasting from the juke box. and then, word came down that it would be closing. a supermarket was supposed to go up in its place. the residents wanted the market, most of them likely not hip to the hawk relaxes, or the zoot record on riverside. of course, the market was never built. in fact, nothing was built in its place. i believe the space eventually became a parking lot.

no one protests. in fact, most people tend to see these changes as positive. they think such changes show that their community is "growing" and is now an "up and coming, hot community to live in." and most of us are blind to just how profound our collective loss is. for you see, the flavor has been lost, and because of this, we have come to think of the big mac, that is corporate america, as giving nourishment.

dino's, goodtime, and connolly's. just three places from one area of the country.

just three places that no ikea, or wal-mart, or burger king, or parking lot, can ever replace.

anything is possible

if anything is possible, why didn't the timberwolves do better? mellish, to cop from adelman, says "give me pierce and allen."

pierce said "now he doesn't have to watch the parades on tv." was anyone forcing him to watch them? were masked men forcefully entering his house, changing the channel, and compelling him to watch?

a lot of the players were video taping the parade. why? no one in the crowd won a championship! fuck them. what a waste of film.

anything is possible. the next time i see a homeless guy, or read about a war or famine, i'm gonna repeat that to myself, and all will be well.

anything is possible if you are 7 feet and can shot 20 foot jump shots, but what if you are 5 foot 5, miss half your lay ups, and have a penis the size of a small insect? take it from me, anything is not possible. hey kg, why don't you tell those guys who got turned down for operations in "sicko" that "anything is possible." oh, that's right, they can't hear anymore. well, why don't you tell some guy in iraq whose family and country has been destroyed by our military that "anything is possible."

everything has become professional wrestling. that is the mo now; noise, melodrama, extroverted, infantile, energy and excitement, and a crazed, unthinking audience. this is now standard not only in the world of sports, but in the culture in general. think of the mindless audience in american idol, blindly cheering the contestants on, swaying side to side like mindless fascists, angered by the slightest criticisms.

lacking in it all is anything real, anything decent.

oh, but where are you, charles beaumont?

and so, we slide along, down a hill that seems to get lower and lower. when will we hit bottom?

and when we do, how will we know? for we have accepted each downward turn. we have justified every travesty, swallowed every bit of hypocrisy. we have been bought off with trinkets and superbowls and plasma tv's and ipods.

we have hit bottom.

we are looking up at the basement.

and it costs 1800 a month, no utilities.

and you better believe someone will tell you, "that's a good deal. i'm paying 2200."

as they march along, in their parades.

speaking german.

today

they had a parade for the celtics. thousands upon thousands of fans came out, many of whom can not tell a defensive three seconds from an 8 second violation. mike bibby commented on how today's c's fan was a fair weather fan. well, they were out and about today. on my bus they came, and on the streets they walked. i took it all in. i want to remember it all. for when they lose next year, it will be all the more sweet.

a few more words on this "disgusting display." i am tired of hearing ray allen being called "sugar ray." the last i checked, he has yet to beat the shit out of lamotta. damn, this bull has me in a rage.

after the c's beat the fakers, garnett was interviewed. he seemed to be genuinely overcome with emotion. he then yelled "anything is possible!!" though infantile and borderline retarded, i thought this was a true display of joy. the next day, after hearing this boorish display on the news, tixon pointed out to me that "anything is possible" is an adidas slogan! garnett, the seemingly excited ad libber, was all the while pushing a product. no, he wasn't overcome with emotion, but rather, with capitalism.

by the way pinko, garnett is the kind of black athlete they like; always pounding his chest, screaming incoherently, investing the game with false significance through his melodramatic displays. c-webb was too smart for them, wallace too defiant. they like simple minded energizer bunnies of dubious intellect. if you haven't guessed it, garnett has just joined the mellish shit list.

for the 08-09 season, mellish will be rooting for the cavs, the magic, detroit, dallas, phoenix, blah blah blah. in short, he will be practing his abc's.

anybody but the celtics.

isn't there always a layer of sadness? sometimes it's thin, but isn't it there always? luckily, humor does battle with it, and sometimes wins.

thad jones is playing. there is such beauty in his tone, a beauty that no music school can teach. a factory produces robots. life produces thad jones. the music schools should be closed, and the doors of life should be flung open.

my, that was corny. forgive me. it's just that one would like to see it go down right for once, you know? it's not like the truth is hidden in some cave somewhere.

we keep filling up the silences, and that's not the answer. and we are left with the junkyard of man's inventions, where once there was silence.

an example of how hopeless it is; once, i was searching for the ball scores in the paper when the guy behind the counter began swinging the door near the cash register. "this isn't a library" he stated. i had spent a significant amount of money at this store, as it was directly under my apartment. but this didn't matter. you see, this man was invested, he was looking out for the integrity of the store. in that moment, he was the store. he had no identity, no mind, separate from it. he was what hoffer would call a true believer. this country is full of them. the individual just doesn't stand a chance amongst them.

so i never went there again. if i could only get rid of the memory.

cannonball is speaking now. he was good at it. i think i would have been the quiet type though. play the music and get the fuck out of there. but i'm happy that the cannon did his thing. i dig his voice. he's got that folksy thing. and man, could he play.

man, life without music would be tough.

what would be worse; to be deaf or blind?

that's easy; to have a paper cut.

i'm surprised that line made the final cut. well, no blood, no foul.

from the somerville news

"om april 7th, ron craven (attention) walked into the somerville news office and continued a lie he had told friends, family, and anyone who would listen. the difference; this time he was trying to get his elaborate deceptions published in the local paper.
and he was successful. the somerville news published an admiring column crediting craven as an "nba bigwig"-he said he was the director of player development for the seattle supersonics, and still in touch with his local roots.
in an interview that lasted more than 90 minutes, craven told elaborate lies about relationships he claimed to have with sonics players, coaches, and management. in fact, craven admitted to the news this week that he has never met any of the sonics players he claimed to be mentoring.
news staffers were not the only ones fooled by craven's trickery. this week, craven admitted that he lied to dozens of people in the city, including his wife and his brothers, about his nba job.
when he came into the news office, he was wearing a supersonics jump suit. he passed out team t-shirts to friends and family. after the story was posted on somervillenews.com, craven said he went online and anonymously wrote 50 comments under the story lauding himself as an asset to the community and as a hunk.
i don't know why i did it craven now says. i keep coming up with question marks when i think about it.
the lies started in june of 07 when he flew to seattle to meet someone he met on the internet. he told people who asked that he was going out for a job interview and after three more trips out west he claimed that he had been hired. while he was in seattle, craven did catch a few supersonics practice sessions that were open to the public and even caught a few games. i got a sense of the team and how they played he says.
craven said that he then tried to contact sonics general manager sam presti repeatedly while he was in seattle to try to get a job with the team. in the april interview with the news, craven claimed that he had a long time relationship with presti. in a letter from the sonics team, presti said he had no relationship with craven whatsoever. craven never made a connection with presti.
i just wanted to scout and work with the team so bad that i think i started to believe that i did craven said
one person who believed craven worked for the sonics said he would often call after games, claiming to be with the team. i started to get into basketball. i thought i had met someone who worked for the nba. little did i know he was just your average sociopath, said the person, who spoke on the condition of anoymity.
and the lies didn't stop there. craven also admitted to the news that he had used other people's names when he met strangers. he said he told people he was jeff turner, a 6 foot 9 inch former nba player who even die hard basketball fans strain to remember. craven himself is 6 foot 8 and said turner's obscurity was one of the reasons he used the name.
he talked about his career with the nets and the magic. he spoke at length about covering bird and playing with shaq, said a woman who knew craven as jeff turner.
as bizarre as it was, craven seemed to be getting away with the ruses. he first told people in somerville that he had an interview with the sonics last june. and, in addition to telling people he was turner, he also told strangers he was todd lichti, another unremarkable, tall, white, former nba journeyman.
but it seems his thirst for attention, and his trip to the news office, is what finally did him in. the woman who knew him only as jeff turner googled turner's name and saw a picture that didn't match the man she knew.
the woman then called the police, who, she said, then contacted craven to tell him that he was a weirdo, but could not charge him with a specific crime. when she found out his real name, the woman searched the internet for ron craven and found the news article and the dozens of glowing comments posted under it.
from that moment, craven's days pretending to be the director of player development for the seattle supersonics were numbered. the real jeff turner filed a complain with the nba's security divsion. the sonics released a letter unequivocally stating craven has no relationship with the team. reporters in seattle are retracing his steps in that city.
as his many lies are about to come back to haunt him, craven said he is ready to make amends with the family, friends, and community he lied to. "i'm ready to pay the piper."

cool, huh?

you couldn't make that one up. even the name; ron craven!

will peter pan dora?

who nose how long it will take for him to do so. the problem is, peter feels that he is trapped in a box and one is hard pressed to figure out how he can get back into his comfort zone. by this i mean no offense, so there is no reason for peter to get defensive. perhaps as a result of this he will block my calls, but eventually, with an assist from friends, he will rebound from his current difficulties. my only hope is that he is not caught stealing.

woody allen once said that if he could be anyone else, it would be bud powell. sure. as if he would choose to be a black man born in the 1920's who suffered from mental illness. powell, by the way, was a genius of the piano, which is why allen made the comment. allen also once said that his one regret in life is that he is not someone else. therefore, allen's one regret in life is that he is not bud powell. due to this regret, allen has recently taken to living like a monk. he even told elmo, when he was a guest on sesame street, that there was no hope. he then drank a bru with beck, a close bud of his. beck told him to take five beers for the road, but to "leave one for my baby." woody walked for miles and got so drunk that he thought he saw red. it was a sonny day, so he decided to return to alto acres. his decision was on the mark, and considering he hadn't eaton a while, he passed on going to a jazz record store and instead went out to lunch, which was a far cry from his original plan. on that blue note, most men would have cried wolff. i ain't lion. but it was at this point that woody decided to go down by the riverside, for, as he put it, "orrin or your out, and i wanted to stay out." however, this plan was not safe, and i was not fonda it. what if he were to run into 12 angry men, or if eight men were out looking for some good sayles, and happened to gang up on him?

stay tuned.

man started in africa, and will soon flush himself down the john.

just started chester himes's "yesterday will make you cry." pinko, david says it's cook-ing so far. if only himes had been an american idol. sadly, rick fox is probably better known.

i've heard that sacramento is thinking of throwing a parade for the 2002 kings. i hope it happens. that would be bad ass.

as good as that kings team was, i don't think it's automatic they would have beaten the nets in the finals. remember my tirade about the officiating in the nets-lakers series? well, it's doubtful the kings would have been handed that series as the lakers were. therefore, the nets would have been much more competitive. k-mart could have put some good d on c-webb, kittles was better than christie, and kidd too strong for bibby. having said that, i think the kings would have taken it in 6 or 7.

just wanted to build up some suspense.

i was going to pan dora

but she has a great web site. tixon told me about it, and now, tina brooks blows as i blog. the body is sticky, but the ears are cool. you can reach it at pandora.com, and they will play you uninterrupted sets of 4 to 5 hours. they will feature artists similar to the person you have chosen to hear. cool shit, unlike this weather, which at this moment, seems hotter than godzilla's breath.

the teacher i work with is fast becoming the hair police. not to me, but to certain students. you would think it was 1958, not 2008. tell me, how is one supposed to make a buck without feeling like an accomplice?

and while the world concerns itself with haircuts...(yeah, you know. wars, starvation, disease, do their thing.)

how can you own land? how can there be water companies? what is a country?

you see, there is no teaching going on. there is fascism going on, but not education. commenting on someone's appearance is not teaching. teaching science without ever going outside is not teaching. teaching a u.s. history course that ends after ww1, and was filled with lies, is not teaching. they are to education as our government is to a humane and decent set of foreign and domestic policies. by the way, analogies are also not education.

speaking of government, obama has named as an economic adviser a defender of wal-mart. the man claims that wal-mart helps poor communities by creating jobs and offering cheap consumer goods. we hear often of obama's days as a community organizer. he surely knows this is bullshit, but what one knows doesn't matter. it is what one does that counts. nader recently said that a smart person who says and does stupid things becomes a stupid person. to succeed in the american power structure, one must apply fundamentally stupid solutions, because to apply sane, intelligent, solutions is not an option. the forces of power are on the side of insanity, so when one elects to represent those forces, one is bound to also behave in an insane manner.

of course, obama is better than mccain, but is he good? getting beaten up is better than getting killed, but that doesn't mean that i look forward to getting my ass kicked. i don't begrudge people voting for him, as he is the stronger of the two candidates, but i do begrudge the excitement over the whole thing, as if obama represents some great societal leap forward.

to those who say that if obama is elected, it will show how far we have come in terms of our racial views, i point to the fact that hugo chavez and evo morales are both the victims of extreme racial hatred, even though they are both presidents. racism has always been more than the individual ideas of people. rather, it is also a construct of power, a set of institutionalized practices. it is also tied to class, skin color, immigration, and other factors. is obama in power going to help the next rodney king or sean bell? is obama in power going to help the hundreds of thousands of black men behind bars? will obama in power lead to affordable housing, decent health care, an end to war, and a set of cultural and educational values consistent with an anti-racist society? of course not. not to make light of it, as this would not have been possible in the recent past, but obama's climb can be seen as the latest example of "black faces in white places," and a light black face at that. i bring to your attention that obama claimed that the clinton campaign doctored a photo of him to make him look darker. think about that; that bothered him. as krassner said, "you'll have to send the negro dummies back. they're not light skinned enough." oh yeah, we have come so far that a "black" guy running for president is at pains to convince us that he is just light skinned enough for the gig.

progress baby, progress.

gore vidal once said that the range of political thinking in america runs from conservatism to fascism. so called progressives should remember this before they get excited about presidential elections.

and they should start working on extending that range.

anarchism, anyone?

hey man, that would be chaos!

as opposed to what we have now? welcome to the usc.

the united states of chaos, where only the rich have a sense of order.

c's win, 8 to 5

pinko, i feel the same way. my imperfect solution? try not to think about it. che would not be proud. this country does not deserve our presence, or our presents in the form of tax dollars and consumer purchases. but, sadly, man is a creature of habit. i know only this. it is like a kid who was beaten by his parents, and then goes on to beat his children. it's all he knows, even if he knows it's wrong. so, i live here because my parents live here, and everyone else i know is here too. somehow this argument doesn't fly when it was used by germans during hitler's reign, but what other reason is there? too often now i feel resigned, as if what you postulate isn't even an option, when of course it is, if one only had the drive to attempt it. i wish i could give you a bunch of melodramatic shit about how we are fortunate to be fighting it out here, in the belly of the beast, but i feel that the beast has long since digested me. it is no all out war. at best, i occasionally land a harmless jab or two.

it is monday, june 9th, and i an still attempting to recover from the robbery that was game 2 of the nba finals. the celtics took 38 free throws compared to 10 by the lakers. leon powe, a seldom used reserve for the c's, attempted 13 free throws in 15 minutes of play, three more than the entire laker team. the media has been bemoaning the fact that the lakers are not physical enough, and their defense is mediocre. if this is the case, why did the celtics attempt 4 times as many free throws? shouldn't it be the physical team that gets called for more fouls? and for sure, the celtics were fouling on nearly every play. it just wasn't being called. as it was, the lakers cut a 24 point deficit with 7 minutes to go down to 2, and might have won if pierce had not been bailed out with a call on a missed lay up with 18 seconds to go.

i have my theories for the atrocious officiating of these first two games.

1) the ratings, while better than they have been for recent finals, are still not up to the jordan years. the league/network might not feel the need to have a long series.

2) the nba always likes to have a strong celtic team. historically, when the celtics have been good, they have gotten the calls, particularly at home. this is nothing new. it goes back to the 1960's, and perhaps the most infamous call in nba history. in 1962, the then philadelphia warriors were battling the celtics to a stand still. this was the year wilt averaged 50 points a game for an entire season. it was game 7, and the game was very close coming down to the end. tommy heinsohn took one of his hook shots from about 15 feet, and wilt blocked it. he was called for goaltending. my dad claims wilt was at least 10 feet from the basket. earl strom, the great ref, wrote in his book, that it was one of the worst calls he had seen, and the call was made by mendy rudolph, a friend of strom's. shortly thereafter, guy rodgers, the warrior passing wizard, fouled out of the game. normally not a great scorer, rodgers was going for 30 in this game before the refs got rid of him. bob cousy, in a show of remarkable class, walked across the court to the warrior bench, while the game was still in progress, to shake guy's hand. oh, by the way, the celtics won by 2 points, the same 2 points stolen from wilt and his warriors. but when they talk about wilt being a "loser" and russell a "winner" no one ever talks about this call.

in 1981, history would repeat itself. yet another game seven, again between philly and boston, again in the boston garden. with 5 minutes left, philly has a 7 point lead. and then, all of a sudden, the refs put their whistles away, allowing the celtics to play rugby. this has been acknowledged recently by boston globe writer peter may, and was also written about in bird's book, "drive." perhaps the critical non-call took place with about a minute to go. the sixers were up one, when center darryl dawkins went up for a short jumper from the corner. he was hit by two different celtic players. according to bird, dawkins was "clobbered." no call. the celtics raced up the court, and bird hit the defining shot of the series, a bank shot that put the c's ahead to stay. if the call is made, dawkins gets two shots, and that fast break never takes place. oh, by the way, the c's won this game by 1 point.

so, this is nothing new. but it still sucks. i would say the game i saw last night was one of the very worst officiated games i have ever seen. having said that, if the c's historically have gotten the most calls, the lakers are not far behind. who among us can forget how the kings were robbed back in 02? the nets were also brutalized by the refs that year against the lakers, but because they were swept, no one recalls it. think about this; the nets had more field goals than the lakers in each of the four games, and lost all four of them. in each game, the lakers made more free throws than the nets attempted. and through it all, phil jackson never had a word of criticism for the refs. of course today, he is a little more vocal.

in the end, that is what it will take. it will take victorious coaches and players saying "man, we got every call out there tonight. that wasn't fair. look, i want to win as much as anyone, but i want to win fairly, not by getting every single call and non-call." george foreman once said that when fighters win decisions they don't deserve, they need to say "i lost that fight tonight. that was a terrible decision."

sort of like how the american people need to tell the truth about their government and culture. if some guy in iraq opposes the war, we can shrug it off. if a black guy in the inner city criticizes the police, we can ignore it. essentially, we need to become a world of truth tellers, and more importantly, truth doers. and of course, we are far from that. when i got back to work today, the kids had on their pierce jerseys, and the adults were gloating about how the c's were only 2 wins away. they weren't gonna mention the refs. for, when your side benefits from the lies, and when the crimes are committed in favor of your side, most people will ignore them. think about it; we have a nation of people who acknowledge the holocaust in germany, but don't even have a rudimentary grasp of u.s. imperialism. there are people who cry for darfur and tibet, and never think twice about what is being done by our military in iraq. likewise, for most of us, when the teams we root for get calls, we ignore it, but if the calls go against our side, we speak out, loud and clear. that my friend, is the definition of a hypocrite. to only speak out when something wrong is being done to you, and not the other way around, is beyond contempt.

and this is the world we live in.

we are all full time members of the nba.

the national bullshit association.

stuff

a couple of days ago, i saw a guy in a wheel chair, without legs. on his chair, he had a bumber sticker that said "jesus saves." now, not to be obvious, but if "jesus saves," why doesn't he save this guy's legs? at the very least, you would think the guy in the wheel chair would wonder about this.

saw a woman, also in a wheel chair. she must have been about a foot tall. she got on the train, and pulled out her ipod. it seems everyone has one but me. everybody buys in, huh? they can't cure anybody, but they can invent a million trinkets to keep them occupied. what a world.

"gene ammons saves." well, he sure as hell helps me get through the day.

i was talking to a kid in school today about the nba finals. i asked him who he thought would win. he replied, with a question mark lilt, "the celtics?" i then asked him how many games he thought it would go. he answered, "probably one. maybe two."

now hillary wants to work with obama and be his vp? that's like a woman saying a guy is an ignorant, ugly, obnoxious, asshole, and then going out with him. which, when you think about it, seems to be what happens most of the time.

the peanut man, gwc, was "teaching" about the court system today in u.s. history. he got upset when he thought the students weren't paying attention, and said "come on guys, most of you will probably be arrested someday, and i want you to be prepared when it happens." i think he was jokiing.

the small e told me he wasn't worried about the lakers, because "they have a bunch of fucking foreigners." guess the e man didn't watch the 04 olympics, where duncan, lebron, and ai came away with the bronze medal. well, at least he wasn't sticking it to the blacks. as lenny said, "america is a great country. where else can everybody get together and beat up the greeks?"

as pat boone sang, "i'm proud to be an american, and to live in the u.s.a"

hold on, i think i'm waking up.

bitch, thou art dog

the pistons fired coach flip saunders last week, proving yet again that racism against filipino-americans in the nba is still going strong. the pistons considered replacing him with flip wilson, but then learned that the great comedian is no longer with us. sadly, he is with them now. for you see, we are the beetles, and they are frank sinatra. no wonder they have better pitch. in any case, the pistons have now offered the job to captain flip spaulding, who has had a ball in the military but is ready to pursue a career that does not entail slaughtering innocents.

i knew it would happen before the school year was over. toward the end of the day, an assembly was held where a couple of guest lecturers spoke on the dangers of alcohol and drug abuse. i can not begin to tell you how tired i am of these lectures. but i'll try.

first of all, it's all good and evil bullshit. sober...good. drugs...bad. the sober, clean life is presented as perfect, a leave it to beaver nirvana. the ex addicts always give trite reasons for why they started using, such as "i wanted to be cool." they always put the blame squarely on themselves, and even go so far as to mock their earlier viewpoints, saying things like "i blamed everybody but myself." they try to scare the audience by telling us how they lost out on the chance to go to college, how they missed their high school graduations, and had their licenses revoked. from this we are to gather that college, high school graduations, and driving are great goods, when at best, they are complicated, mixed bags. never talked about is why most people turn to drugs, reasons such as stress, which often results from the imperfect worlds of school and home, the same institutions usually glorified in these lectures. for you see, the speaker is the "sinner" who has come home. the speaker is confessing, and like a born again, can never acknowledge nuance and ambiguity. the whole thing is intellectually dishonest, a scare tactic, a generic packaging of simplification. the speaker condemns himself for using drugs, and condemns the drugs themselves as completely evil. never discussed is a society which creates drug use, and an economy which thrives on alcohol and drug use. furthermore, the upside to drug use is never acknowledged. why is it that almost every great creative artist and thinker has either been a drinker or a drug user? you would never know from these sham speakers. think of the greatest musicians of the 20th century in any genre. the chances are damn good that the artist was a drug user/drinker. there must be something in these substances that helps to release the creative process, which acts to relax people and to open up new vistas of imagination and thought. this very school teaches the music of, among others, charlie parker and billie holiday, both of whom were heroin addicts. i am not condoning heroin use, but thems the facts.

both speakers, by the way, were well off white youth. which begs the question...if they did so many drugs, why aren't they in jail? the jails are filled with poor black and latino drug users who will never get the chance to make money detailing the mistakes of their youth. both speakers today stressed that they were "good kids, who came from good families and good communities." what does this mean? well, of course we know what it means. it means they weren't poor and they weren't black. "you know, those are the kinds of people who are supposed to do drugs!" when, in fact, the typical drug user is like the speakers we had today. and no matter how hard he tries, he usually doesn't end up in jail, because the system knows that deep down, he is a "good kid." that, and his father is best friends with the chief of police. and don't forget that pale skin. it don't hurt none.

but, in the lectures, was there any mention made of racism in the criminal justice system? did the speakers touch on our inconsistent drug laws, which always work against non-white users? did they touch on the planting of narcotics by the police, or on the kickbacks taken by the police from drug dealers? no, for this would not do, and we know what does.

bullshit.

the one resource our great nation never seems to run out of.

that picture is for the birds

only a mafia don byrd could enjoy it.

science mcas today. used to be that only math and english were required to pass high school, but now, the students need to take a science mcas and pass that too. a lot of long faces today.

the wonders of a good, public education.

saw a couple of good zones recently. pinko, you had mentioned "5 characters in search of an exit." i checked it out last night. awesome. it really spoke to the meaninglessness of much of what we call reality. it was also about the futility of change, but how the attempt must be made regardless. it also seemed to humanize suicide, and acknowledged, through the clown and the dancer, the importance of the arts in keeping us going. it pretty much touched on the whole thing.

also, i dug "long live walter jameson." if this one isn't clear to you, you should certainly see it.

every time i watch a zone, i am reminded of how great this show is. we should all have a steak in people watching serloin's show.

it is now wednesday the 4th of june, o. just trying to keep it reel. got caught in traffic this morning because of a crash. nothing movied for hours. sorry. the puns seem to have a mind of their own.

a student of ours wanted to go on a field trip today, but he had to take the mcas. the mom backed him! i can dig this, because are we stressing freedom and a good time or bullshit standards? well, of course we know what we are stressing, or better yet, what they are stressing, because what we want never seems to factor in to what ends up happening. as it often happens in these cases, the student/parent was black and the administrators/teachers were white. the student/parent is berated by the staff, mocked for not understanding the importance of the test, blah blah blah. but is the test important? important in what sense? the truth is, the test has no intrinsic importance. it is only important because the student needs to pass the exam in order to graduate. but why is that? because some ignorant administrators/bureaucrats decided that he had to. that is the important issue. it's really the only issue.

dig the symbolism. the student, in this case, a black student, attempts to walk away from this artificial world of importance. he longs to transcend this world and have fun, to actually act in a way consistent with his age. he is stopped in this attempt by mediocre whites in positions of authority, who belittle his request and mock the mother who has supported them. the child, according to them, "doesn't get it." doesn't get what? what is there to get? in fact, i believe he does get it. he gets that a 100 of his classmates are getting out of school for a day to go to an amusement park, and he wants to join them. he gets that having fun should trump having your day ruined by a banal, standardized test. he gets, at some level, that this educational world we have constructed, and forced him to be a part of, is unsatisfying.

what is "acting mature?" is taking 6 hours out of your day to answer questions that are completely cut off from your daily life "acting mature?" is administering an exam that you know to be foolish "acting mature?" and if so, what does this say about our modern understanding of maturity? there is nothing mature about the whole enterprise of standardized testing. we have invested the process with great importance, but that doesn't change its fundamental lack of importance.

perhaps there are things a student should know before graduating high school, but they are things that all people should know. they should know that governments lie, especially their own, that elections are rigged, that war is murder on a mass scale, that racism is still a compelling factor through out the world, that millions die of hunger and preventable disease while others get penis enhancement and botox. perhaps they should be taught to treat each other decently, to be exposed to other cultures, great art, the jazz masters, foreign film. perhaps they should explore nature, and be encouraged to get involved in social movements.

none of this will be required. none of it will be mandatory. we will go on as always, investing importance in false things.

and we will keep laughing at and berating those who want to play while the rest of us sweat it out for nothing.

because we have to, and because we have to, they do to. so hey, you're young? we are gonna make you old! you're black? we are gonna make you white! we are gonna make you care about that which we have put in place. we are going to force you to embrace the hurdles we have put in your path, because it is all for your own good.

we did it for you.

we gave you civilization and christianity, a little standardized testing shouldn't bother you.

sometimes

the frustration kicks in, or just the curiosity. you think strange thoughts, what ifs. what if i were to stand in the middle of a busy street and sing a blues, something like bland's version of "stormy monday." or, what if i were to just attack someone who was pissing me off? perhaps i could scream out bullshit in the middle of the work day, just repeat that word until i was removed from the building. how about just going up to people and saying things..."wow, what an ass!" "don't you realize that fascism is no longer around the corner?" what if i were to step out into the hall way at this very second and belt out a show tune, perhaps sing "old man river" in paul robeson style? what if i were to sit naked on the stairs leading to the second floor? what if i were to shout "fuck tibet" at the top of my lungs?

what is the real tragedy, that i think of these things or that i will never do them?

students are working on a power point project for science class. n has not gotten far on this, but he did record a song. the tune took him seven hours to nail to his liking. it is about global warming and living in a sane way environmentally. the song is entitled "it's up to you." n's voice is beyond bad. he tells us to use solar and wind power, to drive hybrids, pleads to us that there is still time to make sound environmental life choices. the killer is when his dad comes in toward the end to harmonize the chorus with him. this is the same dad who persists in doing n's homework, even though n's teachers have explicitly told him not to. once, he remarked, "my writing is getting better, huh?" n insists that he and his dad are a team. pinko, you should have heard this song. he holds notes, tries to slur certain words. his pitch is flatter than a tranvestite's breasts. at one point, he literally shouts "we don't need another nuclear plant." he drags out the word plant. he says plaaaaaant, and then stresses the t at the end. a regular young frankie.

n has said that he would like to try out on american idol.

as funny as it would be, i hope he doesn't. somethings are just better when they are local.

10 funny minutes out of 6 boring hours.

welcome to my work place. but, we persist in being hopeful. notice how i stressed the one funny thing.

nobody wants the real thing.

keep the humor alive, pass it along.

keep trying.

i think.

dr j with his hand on bird's neck. funny image. shortly after this, moses comes in and grabs bird by the neck. the doc then starts jabbing a defenseless bird. he connects on three left jabs before order is restored. later, there is a melodramatic meeting at center court, perhaps the next meeting of the teams in boston, where the doc and bird shake hands.

moses, by the way, had one of the great quotes..."i could take any four guys off the street and beat the celtics."

for that line, the media wouldn't leave him malone.

sorry pinko, i couldn't resist.

the elmo you hear, the less you know, bud.

terry francona, known affectionately by some as francoma, until he started winning the world series, skipped the game today in baltimore in order to see his daughter graduate from brookline high, my very own place of work. i meanwhile, skipped both the graduation and the game. take that fran ice cream cona.

walking home today, saw "schools not bombs" written on the street. how about "freedom, not schools and bombs."

school is not the opposite of a bomb. why, our childrens brains are being bombed every time they get up to recite the pledge, study u.s. history, or take an rotc course. educational bartering, yes. schools, no. "yo, if you let me borrow "ham on rye", i'll lend you my copy of "out there." now that i can dig. friends telling each other about the books and movies they have recently discovered, people browsing at book and record stores, public lectures and community forums that speak to our collective concerns, engagement in relevant social movements, this is what we need more of.

less bombs.

and schools.

pinko, you will most certainly dig "oryx and crake." don't sweat the title, great book.

it's not that i am living a lie. it's just that there are wide gaps when truth is shut out. think of the gig. artificial construct. need to do it to pay the bills, also an artifical construct. the student needs to be in school until the age of 16; artificial. made up. fake.

bullshit.

typing this...almost bullshit.

c's-lakers. everyone wanted it except me, and perhaps tony parker. although now he can spend more time with eva longoria. ok, except me. i've always hated both of these teams. it follows that everyone else loves them. i can't just seem to fit in, even when the issue is an irrelevant one.

go lakers?

that was even hard to type, but pinko, if you were here, and had to ride the train besides these hip hop crackers and townies in their kg and pierce uniforms, maybe you would dig my dilemma. anita bryant to go for 40 in this series. he needs to drive like a vicki carr into the paint. he needs to dish in an edie gourmet fashion. yes, on this day, i sing the praises of phil jack off, and while i could say "give me shaq," at this time, i will settle for the apartment and drink lemmon juice. shirley you appreciated that line, but perhaps you didn't. in that case, you can go jump in a laker. go fisher in a laker, for all i care.

lamar odom better than that line, but he ran out of gasol.

pau, right in the kisser!

i kramden that one. man, i've got this down to an art form. ask alice. for you see, i have no trixie's up my sleeves.

i am not a crook.

what a dick, huh?

a joke; a man's pants are falling down. a guy behind him notices, and says to him "now i know what hairy ass meant.

anita hill to climb. if only the government will give me clarence, but who are they to judge where i go? they are not supreme beings. well, i suppose the ball is in their court, so i must be judicial in my statements.

a man just can't express himself anymore.

could he ever?