Of Salesmen!

No time today before I head out of town for the weekend. Here’s some Besnard Lakes. I’d be lying if I said I expected to like this album, but Devastation might be my favorite song of the year so far. Life is funny that way. Anyways, they're married and from Canada. they kind of remind me of Arcade Fire getting hit with a truck driven by Rush. Because they're both also Canadian and married. huh.

"Devastation" - The Besnard Lakes

"On Bedford and Grand" - The Besnard Lakes

Buy The Besnard Lakes Are The Dark Horse here.

Pretext: One of the worst parts about my job is permissions. At the end of a project, we have all these pictures that the authors or editors borrowed from other books. More often than not, they're from books published by other publishers. So I get to call up said publishers and finagle a price to borrow some of their art for a new book. It's usually pretty painless, and I'm technically not publishing the book, which means it's not my obligation to pay them, but to pass that on to the publishers. But every so often, the publishers will lose one of those invoices. or the fall off a truck. three times in 6 months. and then I start getting interesting mail.
Conversation between me and a credit agency today:

Me: Hi, I get a notice you were after me today
Secretary: Yeah. you never paid the $60 usage fee from last May.
Me: See the thing here is that you don't want me, personally. You want the publisher of the book. I've been told three times that that'd get paid and I faxed them your invoice three times.
Secretary: That doesn't matter, sir. It's in your name.
Me: Listen. I am not the publisher. I don't handle those fees. What does the invoice say?
Secretary: Book publishing.
Me: and I am not the publisher. I can give you the number of the-
Secretary: Sir, you need to pay this.
Me: That's the thing, though. I don't. So I'd suggest calling the appropriate person at the massive international publishing house who is actually responsible for paying it. If you want paperwork proving that that this is in fact their responsibility I can provide it for you.
Secretary: That's not what we were told to do.
Me: Well, hold your breath, because I'll call them myself and get them to pay the people that hired you so that I can end this conversation.
Secretary: Why don't you just pay me right now and then have-
Me: You're not hearing me. I can't pay you.
Secretary (sardonically): $60?
Me: $60. The amount is not the issue. I refuse to pay you. You'll get notice that the account has been paid tomorrow.
Secretary: Sir, your personal credit is...
Secretary: Is Cotton your real name?
Me: Ummm....sure?
Secretary: Yes? You have to tell me.
Me: I'm pretty sure I don't. But that doesn't matter.
Secretary: So it is your real name?
Me: yeah, sure. So you'll get that paperwork soon.
Secretary: You're going to have to pay thi-
<*click>

It actually woulda been pretty funny if it hadn't already gotten to the stage where I was getting this phone call. Anyway, it was settled by the time I left the office this evening. Still, I took off and walked around listening to Orbital for an hour before coming back. It was worth it, because it was fucking gorgeous out. I can't believe the way his season is turning. You have like 3 weeks until I start bitching constantly about how hot it is outside.
So it looks like the Iraq timeline passed in the Senate. I'm still pretty surprised at how close it turned out. It really doesn't matter, though, because Bush will be vetoing it, right?

Did anyone see this crazy Army recruiter email scandal? WHAT THE FUCK!? So yeah, if you get a chance, drop a line to Sgt. Marcia Ramode here and thank her for being such an evil bitch.

Here's a set from RJD2 at the Beta Lounge in 2002. It's so fucking good it's a little scary. His new album is probably my least favorite thing he's done, but it's still being treated harshly. I'd probably like it more if someone else's name were attached to it. Anyway, Copywrite comes out a after a bit during that, making as much as a MHz set than his own, but I'm a fan of simplicity. Ask anyone.

Not much time today but it's looking like it'll be a busy week, so I wanted to get a quick post in.
There's a really interesting interview with Jeremy Scahill here about Blackwater and all of the devious shit going on there. It's funny, because I've been following this guy's work for a couple of years now and watching him bloom as a hell of an investigative reporter, but I still didn't see this kinda of work coming for his first book. I don't know if it's shocking anymore to see our military becoming privatized like this (especially when Eisenhower was pointing out the beginnings of it 45 years ago), but still it's disturbing to see it continue to happen without opposition.

also, Kissinger sought for extradition over war crimes. I sat for 5 minutes trying to guess which country this was about. How sad.

Marnie Stern plays frenetic guitar over Zach Hill's drums here, with with little if any other instrumentation. It's shocking that people would say she sounds like "Shella", right? Regardless, I like her guitar work more and the songs tend not to just morph into a shitty drumspaz like Hella's tend to do for me, so I'm all for it. I missed her playing at the Danger Danger house a few weeks ago (the amount of shows I've ended up missing in the last 2 months is criminal. If I'm moving soon then I should really get out more.
Anyways, here's two songs from her album. Trying to link directly to mediafire instead of the usual. Lemme know if it's not working. (edit: it's not. but if you click the link it'll send you to the download page).

"Vibrational Match" - Marnie Stern

"Put all Your Eggs in one Basket and Then Watch That Basket!!!" - Marnie Stern

Buy In Advance of the Broken Arm here

Elmer Fudd, IRA

I fell asleep watching Looney Tunes, which I tend to do about once or twice a week. It's actually a great way to fall asleep on a good note. I don't know which asshole decided that putting the new on TV at 11 PM was okay and keeping cartoons in the morning was, but that model could stand some re-thinking.
Anyway, last night was the first Bunny V. Fudd episode. I'm not sure if you've ever seen it, but it's one of those rare shorts where neither character are fully evolved yet: Elmer still has his bulbous alcoholic nose, and Bugs is still in a prototype phase, looking much different and having a voice that sounds nothing like the one we've all come to know and love. Also, his behavior is much closer to an early Daffy Duck than anything else. He's kind of an asshole.
and that's one of the things that threw me. This would be their first encounter together, and Elmer Fudd is just out trying to photograph wildlife when this dick rabbit starts hassling him like he's goddamned paparazzi or something. No wonder he came back with a gun.
Futhermore, this is his vacation. In retrospect, I'm not sure you ever get any sort of indication as to what Mr. Fudd does for a living, and it opens up a whole mess of ways to feel bad for laughing at his misery. What if Elmer Fudd was a pediatrician? or shit, President of the LooneyUN? Commander of the Looney Allied forces at Normandy? Shit man, suddenly I'm thinking this guy needed a break! Come to think of it, that Woody Woodpecker was even worse. First thing tomorrow I'm gonna go out and buy a gun and shoot the shit out of a woodpecker. To quote Ben Edlund, "All the Walrus wanted to do was have a picnic!"
This whole thing kinda reminds me of that completely awesome piece in McSweeney's where they play Chomsky and Zinn's commentary for the Lord of the Rings movie. Probably the best thing that magazine has ever done, with apologies to T.C. Boyle.

There isn't much I can tell you about "The Honorable" Sam Winch, other than his proclivity for zany nicknames and that he appears to be from Vermont. I first heard his "Banter for the Common Man" as the theme for the seemingly-defunct Comedy Central series "The Comedians of Comedy", which followed the incredible standup tour of the same name. I couldn't tell you if Patton Oswalt is the one who picked this song for the theme, but whoever it was did a great job. His music falls in line with a lot of the roots/alt. country stuff that I usually loathe, only with a more bombastic sound and some interesting wordplay. Apparently his music has been featured on "Gray's Anatomy" recently as well, but I wouldn't know since that's one of the 7 shows on television that I don't watch.

"Banter for the Common Man" - Sam Winch

"Pachabel's Pistol" - Sam Winch

Buy The Lullabadeer here for a paltry $12.

Why do they always die on Wednesdays?

I don’t even know where to begin. A lot has happened since I took off, and I hope to get back into rhythm by the end of this week, because I’m hopelessly out of touch with the news lately. I’ve been listening to report after report after report about the attorney purging scandal, the Walter Reed Scandal, the death of Captain America… and it’s a lot to take in. So I guess I’ll start by addressing the most seemingly trivial.

I should start by stating that, despite the cult of dork that thrives within my pasty exterior, I’ve never really been a Captain America fan. Sure, I’m aware of him, and I’ve certainly read a few stories that feature him as a character, but I’ve never been able to delve into the baffling chronology of his own series. And it wasn’t just that. Captain America always seemed too perfect to me. Just like the way I could never find the appeal in Superman, I’m afraid to say the round-eyed idealism and superior ideals of Captain America just tended to bore me to tears. Which made it all the more confusing why his death had me so moved. Maybe it was the mere proximity to my father’s death, another person who always tried to do the right thing, no matter what the personal cost. Perhaps it was that he died standing for liberty instead of justice. Maybe I’ve just got a soft spot for wings coming out of people’s heads. I truly don’t know. But in the end I think it was a combination of those things (except for the wings. I’ll never get that). And another thing. Several times in the 60-odd years since his first publication, Steve Rogers, on several occasions, was finding himself at odds with his government. And instead of bowing to the majority or giving up altogether, he gave up the costume; no, he gave up his life, to continue to do the right thing and to fight for what he believed in. Vietnam, government corruption, Watergate, these are all things that cause him to take a stand. It’s not a left thing or a right thing. It’s not about anything but realizing when something you fought for or something you love no longer shares your hope or ideals. It’s about doing what you have to for the better of everyone involved. I didn’t want Cap badmouthing George Bush. I didn’t want him punching Iraqis in the face. I just wanted him there. And strangely, the part that killed me wasn’t the death itself, or even Bendis and Maleev’s stunning Civil War: The Confession book. It was that nobody bothered to tell Joe Simon. The 93 year-old co-creator of the character, who only found out his most famous creation was dead when the newspapers started calling. "It's a hell of a time for him to go” he said. “We really need him now".

I know that I’m making political allegory to a fictional superhero, but you dial up nerd, and that's what you’re gonna get.

So kindly shut up. I spend the bulk of yesterday listening to testimony from soldiers regarding the medical treatment they’ve received since returning from the war. Not just at Walter Reed, mind you, but all over the country, and it’s appalling. Personally, I’m not certain that this situation would be any different under any other administration, but nonetheless, for an administration that prides itself on supporting our troops, they sure have done a great job of pissing on their wounds. It’s pretty obvious how opposed to the war I am, and I know I’ve lost a lot of faith in our troops after a few of them have acted like complete savages over there. But that does nothing to change the fact that by and large our soldiers are poor and tired and over there because we sent them there. To let these people come home from a situation like that -with mental and physical scars worse than what you or I could imagine- and not provide proper medical care is unforgivable. And to deny that there is anything wrong with them at all is outright criminal. Remember how we denied PTSD after Vietnam? That worked out swell for all, let’s do it again. Can I give back my tax cut to help pay for some troops’ medicine? Can ExxonMobil? Somewhere along the way our priorities have gotten completely fucked, and it’s never going to be easy to right them when everyone’s going to have to make a sacrifice. But it’s gonna have to be done sooner than later, and I hope someone up top realizes this. Oh and hey, what the fuck, we sorta misled you about that global warming thing. our bad.

Okay, and just for the sake of putting some music up, here’s another Spiritualized song. This was how the title track of “Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space was supposed to sound before Elvis’ dickhole lawyers got involved. It’s really beautiful sounding, and it crushes me that they couldn’t use it this way. If you ever get a chance to hear a live version, do it. I promise you it’s worth it.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, We are Floating in Space” (original version) – Spiritualized

I’ll be back in a day or so with some new music (Sam Winch!) and less weepy crap, I promise.


P.S. I apologize for the amount of time it’s been since I last updated this. It would be easy to say that I’ve been inundated with grief and that I just haven’t been able to compose myself to post anything coherent or something, but the truth is that every time I start writing something it turns into some mushy half-assed tribute to my dad, and despite my best efforts, this will not turn into on my watch. It hasn’t been an easy time for me lately, that can’t be denied. Neither can the fact that everyone dies and it’s something we all have to live with. It never goes away, and forgetting about it isn’t an option. Fortunately, it gets easier, and you learn to live with the loss, and to hopefully everyone learns a thing or two. I’m not an expert on grief, and I’ve never claimed to be. In fact I’ve so far been one of the luckiest people I know on that front. But it occurred to me in the darkest period of mourning that I’m doing stuff like this for documentation, and if I seclude myself and my most emotionally active, then why am I bothering at all? I actually just heard a collective sigh of relief as I proclaimed that I’m gonna start writing about my feelings more. No, I promise it will barely be noticeable. I do, though, want to thank everyone that sent a card or a message or called to see how I was doing. On top of the wedding and funeral It’s been absolutely insane with me lately (I couldn’t get into ¾ of the stuff even if I wanted to), and I can’t describe how nice it was to be reminded that y’all were there for me. Reminded is a poor choice of words, though. I could never forget that. Assured. Thanks again guys and I love you all more than you know. It’s all too easy to forget how lucky and blessed you are sometimes, and I’m eternally grateful this isn’t one of those times.
The funeral was one of the nicest things I’ve ever seen and it was truly fitting. Only in my family could the younger brother of the deceased tell a story about punching him in the face and his son tell a story about him accidentally exposing himself to hundreds of my sister’s wedding guests. It was perfectly fitting. I’m not gonna get much more into it any more than this, but I truly walked out of there feeling like the luckiest man in the world.

About 15 years ago I received a letter from my father. It was part of my confirmation course in church, and the parents were each required to write us a letter and vice versa. I think I was expecting to receive the standard fare of "great job!" or "way to church!" stuff. The pastor of my church arrived to read the letters with me -another part of the deal- and I sat there with a lemonade as we went through it. I have no specific recollection of what I wrote to them in their letter, but that probably supports the idea that it wasn't very good. Completely love and sincere but hastily thrown together without much thought of it. What they wrote to me were two of the most devastating things I've ever read.
I have to preface this with by saying that my father has had health problems for my entire life. I spent months as a baby with my parents friends and family while my parents were in Boston for surgery. He got a permanent intravenous tube when I was seven. When I was in middle school, he had a liver transplant. Oh and he's probably broken about 25-20 bones in his life. But at the same time he was the healthiest person I knew. The only person in my family who didn't drink and he jogged all the time; miles and miles every day. Well, every day he wasn't in the hospital or sporting a skiing/boating/building accident. But he would always just bounce back up with remarkable speed and determination. My mom always says that he's had seven miracles. I cannot itemize these, but I can account for a few. Seven times that he beat the medical odds by surviving. But this is before all that. When I just knew he'd had a liver transplant and a little... i don't know, clumsy? No, he moved with a certain grace, he was an outstanding athlete, starting in three sports in high school and later becoming an All-American lacrosse player. But he somehow would ski into trees, or fall into ditches. Have you ever seen The Royal Tenenbaums? You know the scene where Danny Glover's character is walking along Anjelica Huston and just falls into a hole? That actually happened to him, several times. That's my dad: white Danny Glover. Except my father has never said "I'm to old for this shit". at least not in my presence.
So anyway, I'm opening this letter with Dick (the reverend) and the letters both just put together this story, the story of the first of those miracles. It took place a few months before I was born. He had been diagnosed with a very rare and serious liver disease, Primary sclerosing cholangitis (This is what NFL legend Walter Payton died of). He needed to seek intensive surgery immediately. and my dad prayed his heart out. My pregnant mom was a mess, too. She told me once that during this time she lost her great grandmother's giant canary diamond (whatever that means) and shrugged it off without a care, saying "if Ned makes it through this it'll be worth it".
and it was in these letters that they told me what they were praying for and dreaming of: My father getting to meet me, the only child he had with his new wife. Not to see me grow old, not even to see me grown. Just to meet me. and when he made it through. When their prayers had been answered, they broke down and wept with joy for a day when I was finally born. and every day since then, he said in his letter and my mom said in hers, they were just counting as a blessing. This was no longer a matter of counting down the days, but counting up. He got to see the 5 children that he raised grow into adulthood. He got to know and love 6 grandchildren. The pleasure he took with this, this gift of life and love and family was so apparent. He was just zealous in his very being. He fought off one medical problem after another over the years, with continued liver problems and eventually being diagnosed with cancer this past August. and he died at 11:06 this morning, holding my hand and surrounded by loved ones.
It was peaceful, and there was no pain. Two days ago, he was scheduled to be released from the hospital this afternoon. The doctors were very worried that he’d developed an infection on his heart valve. Through the grace of God it wasn’t, and the said he’d get to go home after being in the hospital for two straight weeks. But complications developed. I was in visiting him last night, and he was in a lot of pain. The sores on his mouth and the morphine made his speech very difficult to understand, and you could see the frustration in his eyes when he is trying with great effort to tell his parents that he loves them, and they can’t understand. Then his liver failed late last night. Things obviously deteriorated from there and he was unconscious by the time I got there this morning.
Things have kind of been a haze since then. I’m running on sheer willpower at the moment, and will completely zonk out as soon as I finish typing this. I‘ve been crying all day and looking after my mom, cleaning up the house, etc. But throughout everything, I can still just think to myself how lucky I am, how lucky we all have been, to have had such a kind and caring and loving and patient role model in my life. I have had the fortune of knowing and loving my father. and I remind myself of those letters and how blessed we were. I still own those letters. and if my place burned to the ground right now my wife and those letters would be the only things I make sure I had safe.

So, sorry to just puke this up on you, but I might not be posting much for a while, and you deserve at least an explanation as to why. I have to go start on his obituary now and I’m far more terrified of writing that than this.

So as I was walking out of the hospital last night and I put my headphones and just hit the shuffle songs button, not really sure of what I wanted to hear. The first was metal and the second was Willie Nelson singing reggae songs. The third one was this and I almost collapsed right there on the train platform in front of the lady and her sister who were smoking a joint with their three toddlers sharing a bench with them.

Waitin’ for Superman (live) – The Flaming Lips

and this because it’s the sort of encouragement everyone needs to hear I swear if this guy was a cult leader I’d so have a robe on right now.

anyways, this will help uh, cleanse your palate:

I just totally came out of a haze with this and realized that the Thermals show is on Tuesday. I'm really lucky, because I would've totally forgotten about it and missed it after buying tickets. So yeah. So these are from the first album that Hutch and Kathy put out under the sensible moniker Hutch & Kathy. It was one of their many efforts before the Thermals. It's a little folkier (I guess is the word to use) than the Thermals' sound, if only in instrumentation, with largely accoustic numbers and some harmonica. featured throughout. Still, it's got the same enthusiasm and giddiness that I've grown to enjoy with all of their projects. I'm really excited for this show.

"In Brilliance" - Hutch & Kathy

"You Can Count On Change" - Hutch & Kathy

Buy Hutch & Kathy here.


I came across that quote that I was trying to remember to publish in here a few weeks ago, but completely forgot about it. I'd heard Zinn quoting it a few times here and there, but it was lot more terrifying when taken in it's original utterances (or recordings there of):

"Of course the people don't want war. But after all, it's the leaders of the country who determine the policy, and it's always a simple matter to drag the people along whether it's a democracy, a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism, and exposing the country to greater danger." -- Hermann Göring at the Nuremberg trials

yikes.

Okay, I'm gonna finish listening to the rest of Elvis' In Person and pass the hell out so I can get up and go to work tomorrow. and then, yes and then the weekend. huzzah. heh I can never think of late-period elvis anymore without thinking of Bubba Ho-Tep. Sweet.

TIM AND ERIC

[sigh]

I know I said I'd tell the crack story, but that kinda ties into the Velvet Underground and I can't post them right now. I am aware of how ridiculous this story sounds and how underwhelming it will be when I finally get around to telling it, but that's for the courts to decide. Besides, I'm hellbent on saving my C+ material for when I'm really struggling for something to think up.
So, it's about quarter to two on a friday morning, and I'm completely sober and unable to sleep because of the crazy storm beating down on this house I live in*. I've come to the startling realization lately that I am far more productive in the evening/night than I am in the morning. At work, it takes me three cups of coffee just to sit at my desk, and about an hour of dicking around on wikipedia before I start actually getting shit done. Yet when I leave at 7, I can't pull myself away from whatever task is at hand because I'm cruising through it. So I've made a deal with myself that focusing on getting a healthy amount of sleep isn't as important as maximizing my productivity, so we'll see how that turns out. Also, there's a brand new espresso machine in the kitchen that's screaming for me to put it to use. nice.
Anyways, I'm actually ashamed to be writing something so... tired. Something so seemingly obvious and easy. But goddamned if my last two days hasn't been flooded with racism. First there's that fucking insane op-ed piece that was pissing everyone off so much lately. This shit is paramount to perhaps all but the Klan literature of the 30s as the most disgusting and acrimonious tripe I've ever seen.
Then there was the story this morning on DN about Gary Tyler, whom I had never heard of before. It's fucking heartbreaking. I sat there at my desk just listening to this interview and background and it's just like you're slapped in the face with just the a state government that is just so insanely backwards and ridiculous that you're just left aghast. I mean, I'm in no place to talk, I'm from Pennsylvania, for God's sake. But regardless, this case is just dizzying in its unabashed corruption and racism, and this man has been jailed for the majority of his life because of that. and solely that. It's not that I do this sort of thing often and I never send you these sort of forwards, right? but this afternoon I had a prayer answered. and I don't pray. and one of the things I was thinking about while I was listning to this guy's mother talking about his life and the NYT reporter pointing out a similar case in which the races where reversed to the white killer getting out of prison in 10 while Tyler, at 17 became the one of youngest person ever sentenced to the electric chair and thinking Maybe I should happy with what I got. So I had my prayer answered this morning and I feel like I have to react to that somehow, so just write a pissy letter or email a form letter to Kathleen Blanco if you have the time. It'd help me square up so I can get out of this praying thing even. and what the hell, it might make a difference.
And the third thing was just a podcast that I listen to, and it's a very entertaining and nonthreatening show that I listen to every couple of weeks and they were talking about three somewhat somewhat well-known actors, all of whom have relatively hard to pronounce names and are of West African descent. and in a completely and entirely innocuous moment the hosts began mixing up their names andone of them worried aloud whether this would be construed as racism. and it goe me thinking about that. How quickly people are to be concerned with being seen as a racist. So much so that you see people acting like complete idiots just to not appear the way the genuinely aren't. and I think it's because we bandy that word about for so many situations that it's become sort of a something we're more afriad of catching accusation for than actually working to end.
Let's face it. Racism isn't going to end in our lifetimes. Not even if we're really, really lucky. But that doesn't mean it isn't something we can't have an active open dialogue about how to at least discourage it, then we're already fucked. I don't know if banning the N word in New York is going to make sweet fuck all of a difference, but at least it'll be interesting to observe in a city where you can enjoy constant abuse of foul language at any time of day. So next time use your head. racism and ignorance are not the same thing. It's a fine line, but one worth paying distinction.


**It's funny, because I swear I woke up this morning thinking of how I'm officially sick of the damned winter and how ready I was for weather warm enough for me to spend a weekend drinking on my back porch. and this will come. Like last year, I've vowed to spend whole weekends drunk on the porch, and I shall. But this storm is totally reminding me that I've got a rainy Spring to enjoy before I start thinking about passing out shirtless next to the grill.

Sorry for the delay, my shit got hitched.

I've been pretty unreliable for a spell and, as I sat last night trying to tell the story of when I accidentally bought crack when I was 13, I came pretty close just to deleting this whole page. But I'm shitty with the follow through, so I should ride this thing out for at least a little longer for the sake of my own half-serious attempt at self-improvement. So I'm here at least for a little while longer, I just won't care as much.
I don't even know where to start as far as news. There's an explosion of depressing news items that have popped up lately, but the thing that's been under my skin for the past few days is the dick wizard over at Fox news who lambasted Anderson Cooper for covering the Iraq war instead of Anna Nicole Smith's death. He called him a "snob" and said that American sare tired of hearing about the war. Of course we are. It's war. Who the fuck wants to hear about more Americans dying? Nobody! But that doesn't mean we're not obligated to hear about it. We're paying for this fucking war. We will be for a long time. As entertaining as the drugged-out ramblings of a braindead stripper/lingerie model were, I could give a flying rat's ass about the custody battle for her child. It's terrible, the position that this child is now in, but there are kids who are much worse off than having to figure out which pig-fucking retard of a man is your biological dad. As loathe as I am to say it, I'd rather hear Laura Bush give me her take on the war (and seriously, what the hell was that about?) than this shit. It's just depressing, the state we're in. There was a recent poll that showed that most Americans think that under 10,000 Iraqis (not civilians, total) have died since the invasion. And it's snobbish to want to discuss the war? We have enough TV out there to take our mind off the war. and we should. But that's ecxactly what it should be there for, to take our mind off the war. We shouldn't complain because NEWS TELEVISION reminds us of the war. The was should be pretty much ubiquitous in our lives. Hundreds of thousands of people have died because of what we let happen, and continue to let happen. Damn right we should be thinking about that. Whether you're in rabid support or vehement opposition of this war, we should all be at least thinking about it. Because pretending this shit isn't there isn't gonna keep more people from dying. ugh. Enough about that.

There's a pretty great interview with Chomsky here. These are always the best way to take him in, since reading him is all but coma-inducing, and the sound of his voice tends to put me in a trance. This one is actually kinda funny! Come on, asking Noam Chomsky if he's ever been "purple-nurpled" might be the greatest thing ever.

If I'm basing my opinions of '08 Presidential contenders on their picks in movies, than Richardson and Edwards are kicking some ass. and the Onion has pointed out what I've been shouting at action movies for years.

I'm too tired to get into descripion right now, but here's some Pavement b-sides. One's a sloppy, rambling version of what they proibably considered was their best song at least for a couple years, and the other is the most fun I'd thought they'd had in years at the time. and kinda nasty. Since the Brighten the Corners reissue is probably weeks away, I should post this shit now while it's lukewarm!

"Slowly Typed" - Pavement

"I Wanna Mess You Around" - Pavement

But the Shady Lane EP here, or wait a month for the BTC reissue.

Get your paws off me you...dirty ape!

The other day I went to a cobbler. I've never been to a cobbler. I'm not even sure I know anyone who has (though I'm sure I do). I thought cobblers existed today solely for the continued traditions of selling magic beans and casting enchanted stool. But no! Cobblers are no haven for transdimensional mythos! They are steadfast fellows, with an iron will and a friendly ear. No, just kidding I barely spoke to the guy. I was a little let down when I found out that he was located in a busniess park less than a mile from the house I grew up in.

Aside from than Lanzafame and the last Solomon Burke album, I've been listening to this Cloud Cult album a lot. It's really a tough sound to explain, but it goes from a sloppy wreck to this immensely pleasing laser beam to the eyeball of ...warm. Yeah. Anyway, you can get the new album now on their website or wait until April 30th in the stores. Or not buy it at all. It's frankly none of my concern. Everything I read about these guys has to do with their being super green or being Minnesotans. The first two songs are from their last album. "Pretty Voice" has a certain moment where I was convinced I was listening to Crosby, Stills & Nash. You'll know it when you hear it.

"What It Feels Like To Be Alive"" - Cloud Cult
"Training Wheels" - Cloud Cult
Buy Advice from the Happy Hippopotamus Here

"Pretty Voice" - Cloud Cult
Buy The Meaning of 8 early here!

Boing Boing featured this photo stream about these futuristic housing complexes that were built in Taiwan that were abandoned by investors and left to rot years ago. It's probably one of the coolest things I've seen in recent memory, and definitely worth checking out. Part 1. Part 2. It should be pointed out that Bb's description of them as resembling a "rotting, zombified version of the Monsanto House of the Future from Disneyland" is pretty great, but I still think of Troy McClure's house. There's some nekkid ladies in some of them, so heads up ya mormons.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, there was a little factoid on Bill Maher (which means there's a slight chance of it being true) that 43% of a poll stated that they wouldn't vote for a Mormon for president. 43%! I don't think Mitt Romney has a shot in hell, but still, that's pretty fucked up, people. I just wanted to point that out.

Cameraphone Action!

My day sucked with five blades, so on the way home I stopped and did donuts in not one but three parking lots. I catch a lot of shit for this, but it's one of the best stress relievers imaginable. Another one of those occasions where the infinitely juvenile and stupid can be the greatest course of all.

Anyway, speaking of stress relief behind the wheel, last weekend I got to make one of my favorite drives of all time. I had to drive to Betterton for a few reasons, but none of them all that important. I think in the end I made the drive because I really, really felt lik it. It was one of those things where I stopped and realized that I hadn't in the longest time just driven soemwhere for the sake of driving. Sometimes I'll make a detour or go the long way home in a good mood, but I hadn't just driven around in a long time. And what better drive to make than that one; The first hour is spent on one of the busiest highways in the country* and the second is on the backroads. It's that perfect balance of excitement and mind-numbing tranquility. It used to be more backroads than anything, but sprawl has lessened the efect of it somewhat over recent years.

Regardless, I can drive it in my sleep. I loaded up a bunch of CDs and picked up a few gallons of coffee and I was on my way.

This is a haunted amusement park that lies just over my favorite bridge ever. I just like driving past it. Especially when it's out of season.

I'd spent the morming candle shopping and watching a History Channel special on Fort Knox. In it they pointed out that the Fort used to be behind sprawling rows of trees for cover, they cut them all down years ago with the more offensive mindset of not allowing cover for any advancing party. I operate under the assumption that that guy has the same idea.

When I got to Betterton and went straight to the beach. The water had a layer of ice over it and there were teenagers playing on it but they were too far away to get a good picture of it. I'm pretty sure one if not both of them feel into the water.

By the time I was coming back near Wilmington, the sun was setting. and my windows were filthy.

So that's what I managed to get pictures of. I managed to not get one good shot of a massive flock of snow geese that blanketed one of the empty cornfield. and the nuclear reactor from atop the bridge. But that's what I can reach for next time.

*While I was thinking about I-95 I wanted to see how heavily exactly it is travelled before describing it and I got to find out why she's such an irritating bitch near me. Then I started checking out classic Pennsylvania road photos and this crap and well, you can see why my posting is so erratic.

and now some Willie Nelson demos. I guess it's a given for most people that Willie is an icon for lots of outlaw cowboy and pro-marijuana folks, but I guess I never really paid atention to his music because until I was 18 or so the only song of his that I knew was "You Were Always On My Mind", which sucks. It was only later I found out that he was a cornerstone of a genre, and a founding father of the elite paramilitary force known as THIE HIGHWAYMEN. Here he is recording some demos that all went on to become classics.

"Things to Remember" (demo) - Willie Nelson

"Crazy" (demo) - Willie Nelson

"I Gotta Get Drunk" (demo) - Willie Nelson

It sounds strange, but over time I've grown to prefer these to their more widely known versions.

"I am learning all the time. The tombstone will be my diploma"

I know I've been a real turd about posting on here lately. I could say that I haven't really been in much of a state to reflect on anything lately, that I've been preoccupied with my father's current situation and planning a wedding in a month. I could tell you that I have actually started no less than 3 seperate posts in the past week that I couldn't finish on topics ranging from the mysticism of Teresa of Ávila Vs. Ralph Nader, Josh Wolf's record-breaking jail stint, Jose Bove's bid for the French presidency, and my annoying habit of vocally pointing out what every single new actor (sigh) on "Lost" has also appeared in. Yes, I could say all of these things, but the point is, I am in fact a turd. You knew I was a turd when you met me. So don't start feigning shock when I disappear for a week. Speaking of which, what the fuck is this outrage over Prince's phallic guitar work? It's fucking Prince. The man impregnates women (and men!) with his wee stare. Did you think he was gonna play the "cheers" theme song and hop offstage? idiots. Imagine the shock next year when they discover that Kid Rock, it seems, has a taste for strippers.
Not much to post today because my ipod just erased itself. I don't know what sort of skill that takes, but I've got it in spades. I should look into work destroying the digital databases of foes.
Anyway, there's a good article in the Washington Post yesterday about the effect that Iraq might be affecting the 2008 vote. there isn't much new information there (other than Sununu literally running away from the press- what a dink), but it shows just how desperate politicians in an election year can get. It's interesting to see how many opinions have changed and to what degrees. I feel like we have no indication whatsoever on where these same people will stand a year from now on the issue. Other than Hillary. What the hell does that mean? What does it mean when people don't even want to debate on what to do in Iraq? Should we challenge their patriotism as the people of this country? I seems to be the only way to get shit done around here, so perhaps that's it. I'm gonna start questioning people's patriotism when they won't buy me a beer.
and what's with everyone lefting up their stances lately? Edwards sounds like he's about to nationalize our utilities, and the great blue dog of the north, Tom Vilsack, is talking about defunding the war? What the fuck? I'm almost hoping Nader does run again. I don't know how I feel about that (sure, he probably does siphon votes from the left. but even if he could be allowed in a debate, he would alter the political discourse of this country profoundly), but he feels the exact same way about Hillary as I do.
What else have I missed. Oh, the astronaut thing. I'm sure you know all about it, and frankly I don't understand why it's big news. anyway, read about it in Somethingawful if nowhere else.
I'm not buying comics for a while, which is fine because I need the extra cash, but I just saw that Fell #7, New Avengers #27, and the latest volume of Twisted Toyfare Theatre are all out. Oh well. Anyway, read one of the best TTT strips ever here.

Because of "Extras", this song has been in the background of all of my thoughts for the past few weeks. It's maddening, I tell you.

"Tea for the Tillerman" - Cat Stevens
Buy Tea for the Tillerman here

and the always beautiful and charismatic Eartha Kitt

"C'est Si Bon" - Eartha Kitt
Buy 18 sizzling Tracks here


oh, and I owe Sarah $5.

On Tuesday in Iraq 10 US troops died. and 250 Iraqis died over the weekend. Yet as I'm typing this tonight, half of my state is pondering the actions of a rodent, and the other half are pounding beers in a parking lot excited for an orgy of flashing and barbecue sauce. Shit, we've got a killing spree going on right here. For real.
I'm now gonna pour myself a drink and listen to Ray Charles and read some more until I'm tired enough to go to sleep.

"The Sun's Gonna Shine Again" - Ray Charles
"Ray's Blues" - Ray Charles

Buy The Birth of Soul here.


oh, and Germany with their arrest orders! I wonder who they're actually gonna get in this administration to respond to this. Is there a foreign policy horse or something they can trot out?
Texas lost another state treasure with Molly Ivins' death. Her work will be missed.

Just try to imagine this is your life

"A day in the life of the average Iraqi has been reduced to identifying corpses, avoiding car bombs and attempting to keep track of which family members have been detained, which ones have been exiled and which ones have been abducted."

dear God what are we doing anymore?

I'm exhausted, a little hung over, and have had maybe 4 conversations in the past few days that didn't end in someone crying. Things are a little hard right now so posting might be more scarce than usual. Try to bear with me. I'll post some music tonight,

in the meantime, the Wing Bowl is tomorrow. Fatties rejoice. Scope out the contestants and place your bets.

House Rent Blues

So I still don't have all of my hearing back from being sick. It gets better hour by hour, but it's really not the sort of situation I'd prefer. I feel like that my hearing could return right now an I still wouldn't know it since it's been wonky for so long now. Or on the other side of things, I could retain permanent damage because I can't tell it everything came back alright. Man, ears suck.
One time I woke up with blood all over my pillow and a sensation not unlike having had several lower demons taking turns raping my eardrums. Anyways, I did the only thing I knew how and got on the bus for the hospital. It should be no surprise then that by the time I got there I was in excruciating pain.
I knew it was gonna be awhile yet before I saw a doctor. It always is. and it was understandable, considering how a guy who'd just lost a leg showed up not long after me. But still, the waiting wasn't fun. I tried to distract mysel from the pain, nothing was really working. An hour went by. Nothing. I'd go up to the desk, making sure they knew I was sill there, and that I could only bleed on my own clothes for so long until the carpet started taking a hit.
Somewhere around an hour and a half I started to make it interesting. There were all sorts of medical personnel going in and out of there, and I'd noticed a blue cooler with "University of Pittsburgh Medical Center: Marrow Retrieval Unit" printed across the side of it. I told myself that if I waited more than three hours total, I was going to steal the cooler. This wasn't the first time I'd rationalized stealing something in retribution for making me wait and/or pay too much. Already in my posession were a handbell and from the courthouse, two cones from the DMV, and a gross ogf pens from the registrar's office. Listen, I never said I wasn't petty.
So yeah, three and a half hours after I'd gotten there, I ran out of the hospital with the cooler in my hands. I didn't even open it until I got home. Its contents were less exciting than one would think. There were various chemicals (that my roommates and I decided immediately to throw out of our 8th story window) a few pairs of scissors and giant tweezers, and a giant bone chisel. I still have the last item, and it remains the deadliest thing I've ever owned, depending on how you feel about foothold traps.
Anyway, it was a stupid and grossly irresponsible act. I stole (probably) needed medical supplies so I could have a cool beer receptacle. Which I believe has sat on my back porch moving over a year ago. The point of this story, though, is not that stealing is wrong. We all know that, and my saying it isn't gonna sway you or anyone else I know from doing it if you weren't already. The point is that I'm terrible at waiting for things. Not really much payoff, is it?
So, here's some rather well known blues tracks. I had this post and writeups for other songs ready for last night, but I can't seem to access my hard drive from the box.net site. I have no idea what that even means, other than the fact that my music posts are gonna be more erratic than ever.
Anyways, I don't know if anyone else has been watching the ego trip white rapper show, but for some reason I have. There was this little white girl who was actually a pretty terrible rapper, but her hero was Vanilla Ice. No shit. Her hero was Vanilla Ice, and she carried around a picture of him, and she stuck to her guns through it. Now say what you will about her choice of hero, but I actually admired that*. I guess at some point he really helped her out of something, and she stood up for him because of that. Anyway, she got kicked off the other night. and deservedly so. But I was thinking about her refusal to budge on her love for Mr. Van Winkle. and it sorta dawned on me that white the Blues Brothers were essentially playing with one of the greatest R&B that ever existed, they were still two white men in suits aping black culture. I've discussed this before and I don't really want to get into it today, but it was a bit humbling, and I feel bad for mocking those kids, but seriously. I can get it if those idiots actually met with these kids and helped them sort something out, as Ice purportedly did, but to maintain an allegience to these guys because they do...whatever they do is just wrong.

John Lee Hooker was a bad old man, and he'd probably be the first one to tell you so. Even when he was young. That gutteral singing, and the way his guitar not so much accompanied but augmented his voice just made him so unique. It should be pointed out that the Blues Brothers movie first showed me the man, and It was something that fundamentally changed my opinion of music in general. To make things worse, this song (mixed with another one of Hooker's songs) was later covered -and charted- by George Thorogood as the first half of "One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer". This version is a lot slower and drones a bit. I like if infinitely better, if only for Hooker saying "'everybody funny'. I said 'you funny, too'". Greatest suspicion ever.
On the opposite side of the spectrum, Buddy Guy is fucking crazy. Just listen to the way his frustration comes out through his playing it's incredible. I want to talk a lot more about both of these artists, but not with these songs and not with this post, so I'll get back to them later. Lazy post, I know.

"House Rent Boogie" - John Lee Hooker
Buy House Rent Boogie here
"Stone Crazy" - Buddy Guy
Buy Buddy's Blues here for cheap as shit.

I'm working on another mix for y'all, but it's gonna be awhile, since I have to find the software I used for the last few somewhere.


*This is likely to be complete shit, since as recently as yesterday, I broke out laughing at two Insane Clown Posse fans. I'm not gonna speculate on whether or not they are worse than Vanilla Ice (probably), but the point is my admiration for this poor kid is fleeting at best.

I still feel sick. Rounding a corner, though. My sinuses are starting to clear up and my cough is all but gone, but I still can barely hear out of my right ear and am preparing to rip it off. Also, I've coughed up a veritable rainbow of foul matter. I've begun painting with it and will unveil my creations at the end of the month. ewww.

-Obama has joined John Edwards and Hillary in calling for universal healthcare. While hardly surprising, it's still big news, since the three top dem contenders are all on the same page with this. Sure, the elections are still way off in the distance and anything can happen before then, but at least for now it's an issue. Even Bush has made it in issue. So I guess we're gonna at least talk about it again.

-There's been an arrest in the murder of two black teenagers in 1964 Mississippi. I think the very grounds that the man was pretending to be dead should account for his guilt.

-Oh, and the pain ray has been officially announced. I mentioned this back in the fall, and it still scares the crap out of me. The specifics on the ray's effects seem to be contradictory and intentionally vague (how can something be "not painful" but make you "feel like you are on fire. you're on fire?). and I continue to harbor a sneaking suspicion that this is more likely to be used in the US than anywhere else. They say it's

-I've been playing the BBC Climate Challenge all day. Power is addictive.

-I don't know why I've been thinking about Bonnie Tyler recently. It might be hearing Arab Strap cover "It's a Heartache" the other day. It might be having dinner with my mother the other night, who played that album pretty much nonstop until I was seven. She's more or less a female Rod Stewart (it's uncanny at times, no?) and I can't hear "Total Eclipse of the Heart" without thinking of that opening scene in Old School. Anyways, the latter has the meaty stench of Jim Steinman and always plays in my mind like a Flashdance number for suburban California moms in the mid 80s. Anyways, it was in my head all day yesterday. Now you get to chew on it for awhile.

"It's a Heartache" - Bonnie Tyler
"Total Eclipse of the Heart" - Bonie Tyler
Buy her greatest hits here.

Pink Nasty lives in Austin and sings about familiar stuff. Her brother is is a filth rapper and goes by the also ungoogle-able handle of Black Nasty. Families are funny.

"BTK Blues" - Pink Nasty

Buy Mold the Gold here

a long detailed story nobody needs to read

In college there was a girl I met my freshman year. she lived in my dorm, a smaller, out of the way building that mostly housed student athletes and science scholarships. Needless to say there wasn't a whole lot of smokers there. There was a group of about 10 that I would always see out on the porch. I was friendly with them, but not particularly close. I'm not even sure I knew all their names. But whatever, we were familiar with each other is the point.

About two years later I saw Michelle, who pretty much lived in our dorm with her boyfriend, at a house party somewhere. I never really knew her well or anything, but it was funny to see her and we struck up a conversation about who we knew in common at the party and what had become of the nighttime smoking crew. She caught me up on the whereabouts of most of them, and then told me she had broken up with Tom a few weeks before. She said it was friendly, and that they still hung out on occasion. I was impressed with this, since it was obvious that he had followed her there to school and seemed crazy about her. As the night went on we just kept having these great conversations and I was surprised that I hadn’t gotten along with her this well before. One thing led to another and before we realized it the party was out of beer and everyone was headed to the bar up the street. We ended up in the back of this caravan, and at some point she literally grabbed my by my belt and pulled me into an alleyway and started kissing me. I didn’t put up a fight. After a few minutes, she turned around and started opening the door behind her. This was her house.

We ended up in her room, which was on the first floor next to the kitchen, fooling around for awhile. At some point, I remember her asking me loudly to have sex with her. It was really awkward because I’m -to say the very least- shy about that sort of thing and also because I just didn’t really want to. To this day I couldn’t tell you why, because I was really attracted to her and there was nothing stopping me other than the antiquated notion that I at least should have bought her a drink or something. Chivalrous, I know. She settled for more fooling around and I fell asleep not long after. I woke up early the next morning and was dying of thirst so I crept out of her bed and opened the door to the kitchen. Sitting there facing the door was Tom, her serious boyfriend up until a few weeks prior, with a brooding look on his face. Wearing only a pair of pants and a look of sheer horror, I slammed the door shut before I had to say anything. This woke Michelle up.

“Jesus, why didn’t you tell me that you guys live together?” A thought flashed in my mind that I would rather climb out the window that endure the morning that seemed head of me.

“What? We broke up. Maybe now he’ll stop trying to sneak in my room at night.” I just collapsed back into bed and made myself fall asleep, hoping that everyone would be gone when I woke up so I could escape unsolicited. After another hour or so I woke up again and started looking around her room. Every wall was covered in Superchunk posters. They were a band I’d heard of, but never really listened to so I started asking Michelle about them (anything to avoid the topic of the earlier encounter) and she handed me a stack of CDs, swearing I’d like them. A few hours later I snuck out and made my way home.

And the thing is I really did like them. I sat there listening to them for hours wondering how I’d ignored everyone who had recommended them to me before. But I was a Pavement fan through and through, and had it in my head that I couldn’t be a fan of both. Much like Adidas and Puma fans, I guess. Anyway, despite the distinct feeling that I’d been used and an utter dislike of waking up in that house, I continued to call Michelle, and we’d hang out a couple times a week. Almost all of our nights would end up the same way the first, with her making obnoxiously loud requests in the bedroom and my quietly refusing them. I don’t think we ever met up outside of that party and her house, and I was desperate not to become that guy. After awhile Tom and I found ourselves sympathetic to one another. I don’t know if he found out that I was refusing to have sex with her or because he pitied me having to put up with her pushiness, but we would have quiet bowls of cereal together in the early morning, politely asking where the other hung out the night before.

We only lasted a few weeks before I found out that Michelle actually had another boyfriend, in addition to me and her ex that she lived with. It was all but over by then anyway, because I had gone through her entire Superchunk library and bought the CDs I liked for my own. I think that once that mystique was lost on me, it just seemed sort of pointless. She only wanted one thing from me and I only wanted one thing from her, and they were not the same. We drifted apart pretty quickly, and other than my occasionally bumping into Tom at the bar, I had no idea what she was up to.

A year or so later Superchunk actually played a free show down the road, and I went excitedly, despite the fact that I had little to no interest in any of their more recent albums. I kept expecting to see her there, but she didn’t show. I don’t know, maybe she wasn’t feeling it anymore. Maybe she knew I’d be there. Either way, they put on a great show that day.

I hadn't thought of that story in years, and I've certainly never told anyone all of it. I can assure you it's a lot more personal than I wanted it to get, but it's a good story that deserved telling. Maybe I'll start a series of "strange places Cotton has woken up" stories, because there's a lot of them, and most more entertaining than that.

These are from Superchunk's first singles compilation. They put out three of them total and the first two remain some of my favorite albums to listen to. The next one has a story to it as well, but I'll save that one for a rainy day. The first one is a cover song that has this great little stuttering drum beat that I never get over. The second might be the greatest admission of plagiarism ever committed to record, and the third has an all-time classic botched opening chord. Hope I didn't ruin them for you.

"Train from Kansas City" - Superchunk

"Cool" - Superchunk

"The Breadman" - Superchunk

But Tossing Seeds: Singles 1989-91 here for $13.

Regarding the picture, it's what happens when I google "red-faced." I don't know.

In looking something up for this story, I found the last thing I ever wrote for the college newspaper is still online. I wonder if I'm gonna have to live with this through my entire life.

New York Times did a nice interview with Bernie Sanders ("the first Socialist Senator since the 20s") here. It's a good read, and offers insight on what's going on in the northeast liberal movement as well as what faces any candidate that runs independant of the big 2 parties.

Woke up sick this morning. I've been dangerously close to getting sick lately, and I was just starting to get so proud of myself for avoiding the viruses that float around my home and office through judicious vitamin intake and impeccable personal hygiene. But that was shot down. So I'm reduced to a sniffling, coughing slob. Pathetic. You know what's crazy though? Until last year or so, I never got sick. I mean, outside of the hospital stays and the IV and whatever, but I never got the viruses that would go around, and I never was too sick to miss school or work. I missed plenty of both, mind you, I'm not Lou Gehrig, but still. I've gotten sick 3 times in the last year. I've also never shot blood out of my eyeballs. Here's to me not picking up that habit.
Ayways, I'm gonna go read in bed now so I can attempt to get some sleep tonight.
Something I wanted to address though before I go: I was told last night that this page is "one-sided" and "fails to tell the whole story". Yeah, that's a pretty fair assumption . The sides and opinions presented here are oviously mine and mine alone. I don't claim to be fair and I don't try to be balanced. The only reason I'm even adressing this right now is because I'm worried that I might be coming across more presumptuous than I'd like, and that is something I'm gonna try to work on, I promise. But other than that, let me know if I'm not making sense or coming off with an air of pretension, because that's the last thing I want. Other than scabies. or chiggers. or any other tiny insects that burrow in your skin.
Alright, off to bed. and death.

hearsay schmearsay

HOLEE SHIT. Are people even reading the news? This is fucking terrifying. I really don't know what to make of this. I mean, I assume the worst about the government on pretty much every possible angle, but even I didn't think that things were going to be taken this far. Wow.
I've been trying to find a clip of Lynn woolsey addressing the house the other night iregarding her bill to exit Iraq, becase I was certain that she was drunker than Paula Abdul. I ain't stupid, I know drunk talk when I see it!

Ruth Brown has such a great voice in the way she just wails out the words. Have you ever tried to sing like that? Guys can do that, too. It's okay. You can be comfortable with your manhood and still sing like a heavyset black lady. Truuuuust me. Anywho, I always think it's amazing that she isn't acknowledged as much as Etta James or Nina Simone or the like. She got pipes! Anyway, she died in the fall, so I guess this is better late then never. Expect my Ray Charles tribute in a few weeks. Anyways, here are some songs of hers.

"So Long" - Ruth Brown
"Mama, He Treats Your Daughter Mean" - Ruth Brown
"This Little Girl's Gone Rockin'" - Ruth Brown

Buy Miss Rhythm here.

Tonight Bill O'Reilly is gonna be on Colbert. Brace for disappointment.
and Kwame Brown, wha the fuck!!???