(dedicated to my brother & sister noise makers out there!)
I love music. I love sound! All sorts of music and all sorts of sounds! This love, coupled with a natural inclination to make music, is most likely what has led me to be a musician. I've also always been creative, so this has led me to create my own music. I prefer this to recreating someone else's sounds. It's been said that imitation is the most sincere form of flattery...but I just don't get it myself.
My favorite sound has always been that of breaking glass. This might sound odd to many...but if you understand the history of my affinity towards this sound, it makes sense.
The street I grew up on used to be a race track. From what I've always been told, where our house was is right about where the concession stand used to be. Over the hill, in the woods behind our house, were tons and tons of old, empty bottles. For a kid like me, this was a treasure trove! I could break the bottles on rocks, on each other, by throwing rocks at them, hitting them with big sticks...and when I got old enough, shooting them with a BB gun (and later, a pistol).
The sound of breaking glass mesmerized me. It was the sound of "something one shouldn't do"...sort of a taboo sound. It was the sound of destruction...but in that destruction, there was a brief moment of absolute sonic beauty.
Most people probably just hear CRASH when glass breaks. Not me. If you've ever closely listened to the sound of breaking glass, it starts with a very low, vibration that culminates in a high pitched smash. It covers a great deal of the sonic spectrum in the blink of an eye. To me, this has always been wondrous.
As a guitarist, I've long pursued that sound. A deep, low vibration at the core with that almost taboo "crash" at the outer edges of the tone. There have been times when I've nailed it and more times when I haven't. My old Telecaster Deluxe through my long gone old Ampeg amps (1st a Gemini 2 and later a V4) was how I managed it. These, however, required great volume. Anyone who knows anything about sound knows that long term exposure to this sort of volume leads to deafness. High frequency deafness, to be more exact.
My maternal grandmother was deaf (nerve deafness) and the thought of going deaf has always scared me...so I've tried to prevent it...yet still always dancing on that edge of OMFG THAT'S LOUD! When I was 22, I lost most of the hearing in my right ear due to a work-related incident. That scared the crap out of me. But...within a short period of time, I found that keeping the band on the side of my deaf ear kept my good ear sort of protected. We could play as loud as we wanted ("Shake the rafters!" my auntie would always tell me before a show) and I'd rarely have the ol' post show HUMMMMMMM at the end of the night (or the next day).
Throughout my decades of making music, I've learned to love all sorts of sounds. Thuds, thwacks, zings, jingles, jangles, whooshes, growls, whumps...almost anything. Anything except "plinky" sounds. I've never particularly cared for anything that goes "plink".
Case in point: some might hear the high notes on a piano and think they're plinky. They would be wrong. On most pianos, I find those high notes to sound more like fine crystal glasses being clinked together in a toast. A cheap guitar with no real volume behind it...that's plink. It's a short, nasty sound. It doesn't say anything beautiful to me. It's like a truly bad joke, at best.
I'm sure that if I really tried, I could learn to enjoy plinky sounds. Hell, I could probably even find a use for them. As a musician and composer, I reckon sounds the way a laborer reckons his tools. They're what's necessary to get the job done! Drums should go WHACK, THWACK, WHUMP & THUMP! A bass should have a good, solid, woody THUD (unless one is playing funk...then the highly overrated sound "Thwankapoppathwank" is the way to go...otherwise, go for that woody THUD!). Each instrument is blessed with it's own sounds. Mandolins can jangle or honk. Brass bleats, woodwinds breathe and snore, orchestral strings can sing, screech, and any other number of sounds. Cymbals are the poor man's breaking glass. Too much high end. Their sound is almost overwhelming. Cymbals don't share the beautiful low end vibration of breaking glass. This is probably why most guitarists complain about them. Cymbals tend to hog up the high end. That's our job! Gongs, on the other hand....just too cool!
I keep looking for new sounds. The click clack of my fingers typing this out on the keyboard of my laptop is not an unpleasing sound to me...although the sound of 50 pairs of hands, typing away at work can be distracting as hell to me. Yet, I still look for my breaking glass sound when I play electric guitar. It doesn't matter to me if I'm playing something twangy, jazzy, bluesy, or dissonant (I LOVE dissonance!), I still want that breaking glass sound. Maybe a bit less high end, now that my ears are getting a bit long in the tooth (so to speak) but still...I want that low vibration at the core cascading out to treble taboo! This is the real sound of the elusive twaaaaaaang that many search for. It's the sound of breaking glass. And it can scare the hell out of you.
Volume often scares people. I can't tell you how many times I've been asked "Does it have to be so loud?????". The looks in the eyes of the people asking this is FEAR. All fear ever is, is the unknown. Volume grabs people's attention, sure...but for an electric guitarist, it's much more. There's science and technology happening! Those tubes are heating up and the sound become richer, fuller, and well...more IN YOUR FACE at louder volumes.
I remember the first few times I ever dared to play LOUD. I had an old Gibson Skylark Tremolo amp...in all honesty, not a very loud amplifier as amps go...but to an 11 or 12 year old kid, it was a beast! I didn't know if it was going to blow up being played that loud (it eventually fried) but that sound! I was hearing my breaking glass sound coming from the notes of my guitar through that amp! When I was about 13, I'd moved up to a slightly better rig: a brand new Fender Musicmaster guitar and my Ampeg Gemini 2 amp. I thought this was cool until a family friend loaned me his old Guild Starfire 3 electric guitar. MAN O MAN! That guitar, through that amp, played LOUD was the greatest sound ever! To this day, I'm still trying to recreate that sound!
It's all a matter of tones, overtones, undertones, and even "in between tones". Those in between tones are what really get me anymore. Early on, I learned to bend strings...bending notes, chords, you name it. I tried for decades to learn how to play slide guitar....all to get to those sounds in between the other sounds. Western music tends to trap itself in a limited set of notes. There are a lot more out there...and in between the notes we're used to using. Just like the sound of breaking glass...there's so much sound to be heard and utilized!
I could go on for days about this. Hell, weeks, months, years even! This is my lifelong path. Chasing sound I guess you could call it. I'm pretty sure that's what Les Paul said...he was chasing sound. I keep chasing my favorite sound: breaking glass. I get it once in a while. Other times, I get something else...and I'm usually pretty happy with it. I try to stay true to myself and the sounds I hear in my head. I try to unleash them on the world and once in a while, the world enjoys it. The rest of the time, it's just me trying to make these sounds come together in a way that I find pleasing. Like I said, I like dissonance. I love the sound of breaking glass.
One last little personal bit of info: whenever I'm about to do a live performance, I say a little prayer. I ask God to speak through my hands, if He so chooses. Words are nothing more than sounds, structured in such a way that we assign them meaning. They're still nothing more than sounds. Listen to someone who speaks another language laugh or cry. You'll still understand what they're doing and feeling. It's all just sound.
"I use music as a medium to talk to people." - Sun Ra
"The planet is asleep and it's the fault of musicians who are not true to themselves." - Sun Ra
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Saturday, April 27, 2013
It's Been A Good Year For The Roses
We just lost George Jones. After the life he lived, the fact that he made it to 81 is almost unbelievable. Booze, pills...an all-around rough life. He always looked like he enjoyed it though. His face was pockmarked and etched with lines and he often looked rode hard and put away wet...but he always seemed to have a twinkle in his eyes. That's a look you can't fake. No matter how you live your life, you SHOULD enjoy it. Lesson learned, I guess.
Most folks will probably remember him for the song "He Stopped Loving Her Today", which is an amazing song. "The King Is Gone (And So Are You)" has always been my favorite George Jones song...but one that you should give a listen to, I think, is "It's Been A Good Year For The Roses".
Penned by songwriter Jerry Chestnut, only George Jones could ever, in my ears, do this song justice. It's a country heart breaker for grownups. Sure, Elvis Costello had a hit with it too...but as good as his version is, it pales in comparison to the Possum's version.
In the song, George sings about his wife of three years, intimating that she's leaving him. He never says for sure that she's going or where or why...but he intimates it. The most the listener knows about her is she smokes, drinks coffee, she just packed something, and turned to walk away. That's it. When he sings the line "After three full years of marriage, it's the first time that you haven't made the bed", his voice breaks...just a bit. Whether by design or sheer studio luck, that line, for me, defines the entire song.
It's a man's song. A man too stubborn and/or proud to beg the woman he loves to stay. Or perhaps a man who loves his woman so much that he can't stand to make her unhappy another day and knows that he can't change who he is, so he lets her go.
This song is from the point of view of a man who outwardly has always been strong and house proud. In that generation, the man worked and brought home the money that built and kept that home. Nowhere in the lyrics does he ever say a bad word about her. The marriage was just over...at least for a time. There was nothing left to say...except maybe "I love you, please stay"...but those were words a man of that generation had a hard time saying.
If you've never been married, you'll never fully get the power of Jones' singing on this track. If you've ever gone through a separation or divorce, this hits dangerously close to heart and home.
George Jones had a lot of hits over the years and this was merely one of them. But it's a good one and it will probably stand the test of time. Maybe it's not as poetic as "He Stopped Loving Her Today" but it could serve as the prequel to the man in that song. The ol' Possum must've known a thing or two about heartbreak to be able to sing these songs so genuinely.
I never got to see George Jones perform. I always wanted to though. I just didn't want to get to the show and find out that No Show Jones had struck again. I've always heard he was a great performer. Oddly, of all the people I know in Nashville and show business in general, not a one of them knew Jones personally. They may have worked with him or had occasional dealings with him...but none were close to him. It's always made me wonder what was going on inside that man. I guess we're never likely to know....but it's been a good year for the roses anyway.
Rest In Peace Possum!
Most folks will probably remember him for the song "He Stopped Loving Her Today", which is an amazing song. "The King Is Gone (And So Are You)" has always been my favorite George Jones song...but one that you should give a listen to, I think, is "It's Been A Good Year For The Roses".
Penned by songwriter Jerry Chestnut, only George Jones could ever, in my ears, do this song justice. It's a country heart breaker for grownups. Sure, Elvis Costello had a hit with it too...but as good as his version is, it pales in comparison to the Possum's version.
In the song, George sings about his wife of three years, intimating that she's leaving him. He never says for sure that she's going or where or why...but he intimates it. The most the listener knows about her is she smokes, drinks coffee, she just packed something, and turned to walk away. That's it. When he sings the line "After three full years of marriage, it's the first time that you haven't made the bed", his voice breaks...just a bit. Whether by design or sheer studio luck, that line, for me, defines the entire song.
It's a man's song. A man too stubborn and/or proud to beg the woman he loves to stay. Or perhaps a man who loves his woman so much that he can't stand to make her unhappy another day and knows that he can't change who he is, so he lets her go.
This song is from the point of view of a man who outwardly has always been strong and house proud. In that generation, the man worked and brought home the money that built and kept that home. Nowhere in the lyrics does he ever say a bad word about her. The marriage was just over...at least for a time. There was nothing left to say...except maybe "I love you, please stay"...but those were words a man of that generation had a hard time saying.
If you've never been married, you'll never fully get the power of Jones' singing on this track. If you've ever gone through a separation or divorce, this hits dangerously close to heart and home.
George Jones had a lot of hits over the years and this was merely one of them. But it's a good one and it will probably stand the test of time. Maybe it's not as poetic as "He Stopped Loving Her Today" but it could serve as the prequel to the man in that song. The ol' Possum must've known a thing or two about heartbreak to be able to sing these songs so genuinely.
I never got to see George Jones perform. I always wanted to though. I just didn't want to get to the show and find out that No Show Jones had struck again. I've always heard he was a great performer. Oddly, of all the people I know in Nashville and show business in general, not a one of them knew Jones personally. They may have worked with him or had occasional dealings with him...but none were close to him. It's always made me wonder what was going on inside that man. I guess we're never likely to know....but it's been a good year for the roses anyway.
Rest In Peace Possum!
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Privacy
Meriam-Webster defines privacy as:
Makes sense, right? We all like our privacy, right?
More interesting are the words considered to be synonyms of 'privacy':
Synonyms: aloneness, insulation, isolation, secludedness, seclusion, segregation, separateness, sequestration, solitariness, solitude
Related Words: loneliness, lonesomeness; vacuum; confinement, incarceration, internment, quarantine; retirement, withdrawal; ghettoization
Funny, no one ever wants to be alone. Everyone is always searching for that special someone. Usually, they want to find that special someone so the two of them can go do certain things in private! That's when one really wants privacy!
But, it's the 3rd definition of privacy that I think most Americans think of. Secrecy. No one ever wants their secrets told. Why not? Just what is it that people are doing in private that needs to remain such a secret?
If it's sex...I got news for ya...it's not a big secret. It's how we ALL got here. (except for the test tube babies and maybe Sarah Palin) Pretty much everyone I know wants sex at some point. That's no secret.
Are people perhaps ashamed of who they're having sex with? Again...why? If someone turns you on and the two of you get to bumping uglies...good for you! While it doesn't warrant a parade, I, for one, am thrilled that someone finds you special enough to get naked with. If you enjoyed the sex, or at least the situations that led up to the sex, why would anyone want to hide from those facts?
Perhaps people are doing things that they shouldn't...and that's why they demand so much privacy. Shame could well be the root of this need for privacy...especially online.
If you're doing something that you feel ashamed of, you may want to ask yourself why you're doing it in the first place. Sure, YOU may enjoy it...but can these actions, acted out in private or in the belief that one can expect a level of privacy, can these actions hurt someone...perhaps someone you care about, if these actions were to come to light? If that's the case...why do them? One wouldn't necessarily spit in the face of someone they care about or call them rude names...so why do "private things" that could hurt someone?
Perhaps these private acts involve things like gossip, or perhaps even a matter of questionable legality. Someone is bound to get hurt if the facts of those so-called private matters came to light. Gossip and lies hurts people. Illegal activities hurt people (there truly are no victimless crimes). So why do them? If you're not doing something that will hurt someone else, why the need for privacy?
Don't get me wrong. I'm a pretty private person. I have no shame for anything I do nor is anything I'm doing likely to hurt anyone, I just don't always like people. I grew up in a household with 3 siblings (who I love dearly)...but I had to get really good at hiding things lest I lose them. My one brother in particular...if I hid $5 somewhere in my room, he'd find it. And take it. That was hurtful to me. I'm not a materialistic person...never have been...but sometimes I was trying to save up for something...perhaps for someone else. That's what always irked me.
Privacy can also just mean a little peace and quiet. I really like that sort of privacy. Being able to sit in the backyard in my underwear while drinking some beers...now that's my kind of privacy! While the sight of me in my guchies may not be the prettiest sight in the world, it's yet to kill anyone or leave them blind, paralyzed, or even queasy. It may even get a laugh.
So ask yourself why you need so much privacy. What is it you're trying to hide...and from whom? Yes, we Americans have certain rights to our privacy...but really, how much privacy is really a good thing? Just something to think about........
M
1 a: the quality or state of being apart from company or observation : seclusion
b: freedom from unauthorized intrusion
b: freedom from unauthorized intrusion
2 archaic: a place of seclusion
3 a: secrecy
b: a private matter : secret
Makes sense, right? We all like our privacy, right?
More interesting are the words considered to be synonyms of 'privacy':
Synonyms: aloneness, insulation, isolation, secludedness, seclusion, segregation, separateness, sequestration, solitariness, solitude
Related Words: loneliness, lonesomeness; vacuum; confinement, incarceration, internment, quarantine; retirement, withdrawal; ghettoization
Funny, no one ever wants to be alone. Everyone is always searching for that special someone. Usually, they want to find that special someone so the two of them can go do certain things in private! That's when one really wants privacy!
But, it's the 3rd definition of privacy that I think most Americans think of. Secrecy. No one ever wants their secrets told. Why not? Just what is it that people are doing in private that needs to remain such a secret?
If it's sex...I got news for ya...it's not a big secret. It's how we ALL got here. (except for the test tube babies and maybe Sarah Palin) Pretty much everyone I know wants sex at some point. That's no secret.
Are people perhaps ashamed of who they're having sex with? Again...why? If someone turns you on and the two of you get to bumping uglies...good for you! While it doesn't warrant a parade, I, for one, am thrilled that someone finds you special enough to get naked with. If you enjoyed the sex, or at least the situations that led up to the sex, why would anyone want to hide from those facts?
Perhaps people are doing things that they shouldn't...and that's why they demand so much privacy. Shame could well be the root of this need for privacy...especially online.
If you're doing something that you feel ashamed of, you may want to ask yourself why you're doing it in the first place. Sure, YOU may enjoy it...but can these actions, acted out in private or in the belief that one can expect a level of privacy, can these actions hurt someone...perhaps someone you care about, if these actions were to come to light? If that's the case...why do them? One wouldn't necessarily spit in the face of someone they care about or call them rude names...so why do "private things" that could hurt someone?
Perhaps these private acts involve things like gossip, or perhaps even a matter of questionable legality. Someone is bound to get hurt if the facts of those so-called private matters came to light. Gossip and lies hurts people. Illegal activities hurt people (there truly are no victimless crimes). So why do them? If you're not doing something that will hurt someone else, why the need for privacy?
Don't get me wrong. I'm a pretty private person. I have no shame for anything I do nor is anything I'm doing likely to hurt anyone, I just don't always like people. I grew up in a household with 3 siblings (who I love dearly)...but I had to get really good at hiding things lest I lose them. My one brother in particular...if I hid $5 somewhere in my room, he'd find it. And take it. That was hurtful to me. I'm not a materialistic person...never have been...but sometimes I was trying to save up for something...perhaps for someone else. That's what always irked me.
Privacy can also just mean a little peace and quiet. I really like that sort of privacy. Being able to sit in the backyard in my underwear while drinking some beers...now that's my kind of privacy! While the sight of me in my guchies may not be the prettiest sight in the world, it's yet to kill anyone or leave them blind, paralyzed, or even queasy. It may even get a laugh.
So ask yourself why you need so much privacy. What is it you're trying to hide...and from whom? Yes, we Americans have certain rights to our privacy...but really, how much privacy is really a good thing? Just something to think about........
M
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
A Tale of 2 Couples
I am currently in my longest relationship ever. 5 years together. I'm 47. I've learned what not to do in a relationship. I think I've finally, after much trial and error, learned what makes a relationship work. Some folks are lucky and find the right one early on. This is a story about 2 such couples.
Beth & Ray were high school sweethearts. I was friendly with them both but not extraordinarily close. You could tell they dug each other. After graduation, I didn't think I'd ever see them again and wasn't particularly heartbroken. Nothing against them...they're both great people. Life just took us in different directions.
Fast forward nearly 30 years. I heard from Beth online. It's always nice to hear from someone from an earlier part of your life. You play catch up and see where life took that person. Much to my pleasant surprise, Beth and Ray got married, raised a family and have been living the dream, so to speak. I am, honestly, truly happy for them.
Now there's another couple I know, from high school, who are still together. When these two met, it was obvious that they were made for each other. Two more blissfully boring people were never born! They were both good friends of mine in school, and among friends, we all joked that warm milk was too exciting for them. Their names are Dan & Randy. They've been together for over 30 years now. Still happy. Still blissfully boring as hell. Nice house in a nice suburb. Boring jobs. Come home, peck on the cheek, dinner, a little TV, maybe a beer. Again, living the dream.
The only differences are simple: Beth & Ray were able to get married. Dan & Randy currently still cannot. Are their levels of commitment any different? Doesn't seem so to me. 3 decades together is 3 decades together. Beth & Ray raised a family. Dan & Randy don't have kids of their own. That's really about the only difference.
So why all the fuss about gay marriage? If two people are willing to spend their lives together, let them.
Beth & Ray were high school sweethearts. I was friendly with them both but not extraordinarily close. You could tell they dug each other. After graduation, I didn't think I'd ever see them again and wasn't particularly heartbroken. Nothing against them...they're both great people. Life just took us in different directions.
Fast forward nearly 30 years. I heard from Beth online. It's always nice to hear from someone from an earlier part of your life. You play catch up and see where life took that person. Much to my pleasant surprise, Beth and Ray got married, raised a family and have been living the dream, so to speak. I am, honestly, truly happy for them.
Now there's another couple I know, from high school, who are still together. When these two met, it was obvious that they were made for each other. Two more blissfully boring people were never born! They were both good friends of mine in school, and among friends, we all joked that warm milk was too exciting for them. Their names are Dan & Randy. They've been together for over 30 years now. Still happy. Still blissfully boring as hell. Nice house in a nice suburb. Boring jobs. Come home, peck on the cheek, dinner, a little TV, maybe a beer. Again, living the dream.
The only differences are simple: Beth & Ray were able to get married. Dan & Randy currently still cannot. Are their levels of commitment any different? Doesn't seem so to me. 3 decades together is 3 decades together. Beth & Ray raised a family. Dan & Randy don't have kids of their own. That's really about the only difference.
So why all the fuss about gay marriage? If two people are willing to spend their lives together, let them.
Don't Buy Anything!
Don't buy a damned thing unless you absolutely, 100% need it.
Want to get this country, hell, this WORLD back on track? Hit the large companies (who in case you didn't realize it, RUN this world!) where it hurts. Buy ONLY what you need. Don't concern yourself with buying union, organic, local, domestic or imported. Buy ONLY what you absolutely need.
This planet has turned into a fucking shopping mall. Corporate Big Brother tells you what you want, in the form of media. Do you really need a $300 cell phone? Hell no. You don't. Do you really need expensive shoes? Hell no. Just because something carries a label is no guarantee you're buying what you think you are.
Organic? Unless you grew it yourself, you have no real idea. So don't fall for it.
Want to know why there are so few record stores and book stores anymore? To take away your freedom of choice. Why read a book when you can watch the latest reality TV show? Why go browsing through a record store when chances are you'll just download whatever music is being shoved down your throat. Hell...you probably won't even pay for the download. The corporations already own the radio stations and major record labels. They've already paid for the product. Their investment is insured. They'll find a way to make you think you're rippin' off the man when in reality, you're just lining his pockets.
Rampant consumerism is the disease thrust upon us by the corporations. They just want to sell us crap and keep their profits up. It's an unwinnable game though. At some point, the ceiling has to come crashing down. And who do you think is gonna be left in the shit? It won't be the corporations. They're probably already designing the business model for the clean up...at our expense.
Of course, no one will ever stop purchasing. We're all convinced that we NEED crap. We NEED a giant TV to watch....what? American Fucking Idol? Zombies? The Weather Channel? We believe that we just have to have that latest cell phone. It's TECHNOLOGY! That's science...right? Science is supposed to be a good thing, right?
Face it, your clothes are made in sweatshops. Your food is poisoned. Your water is too. So is the air. Everything is taxed and taxed some more. Doctors can't do their jobs properly because the corporations own the hospitals, pharmaceutical companies, drug stores and insurance companies. There are no cures anymore. Only treatments. Treatments are more profitable.
The corporations have found that as long as WE are buying everything they sell, all can continue. Corporations create diversions. THIS is good. THAT is bad. Listen to US! Don't listen to THEM! It's all a game. Orwell called it! Oceania, Eurasia and Eastasia exist...and the war is perpetual. No winner. No losers. Just more and more stuff that you're told you want and probably can't truly afford.
Use the same razor for 2 months. Drink your Victory gin. Everything you buy is just another statistic for the corporations. Using that information, they'll decide what to make more of...and what should be new and improved. And we'll all buy it.
Suckers.
Want to get this country, hell, this WORLD back on track? Hit the large companies (who in case you didn't realize it, RUN this world!) where it hurts. Buy ONLY what you need. Don't concern yourself with buying union, organic, local, domestic or imported. Buy ONLY what you absolutely need.
This planet has turned into a fucking shopping mall. Corporate Big Brother tells you what you want, in the form of media. Do you really need a $300 cell phone? Hell no. You don't. Do you really need expensive shoes? Hell no. Just because something carries a label is no guarantee you're buying what you think you are.
Organic? Unless you grew it yourself, you have no real idea. So don't fall for it.
Want to know why there are so few record stores and book stores anymore? To take away your freedom of choice. Why read a book when you can watch the latest reality TV show? Why go browsing through a record store when chances are you'll just download whatever music is being shoved down your throat. Hell...you probably won't even pay for the download. The corporations already own the radio stations and major record labels. They've already paid for the product. Their investment is insured. They'll find a way to make you think you're rippin' off the man when in reality, you're just lining his pockets.
Rampant consumerism is the disease thrust upon us by the corporations. They just want to sell us crap and keep their profits up. It's an unwinnable game though. At some point, the ceiling has to come crashing down. And who do you think is gonna be left in the shit? It won't be the corporations. They're probably already designing the business model for the clean up...at our expense.
Of course, no one will ever stop purchasing. We're all convinced that we NEED crap. We NEED a giant TV to watch....what? American Fucking Idol? Zombies? The Weather Channel? We believe that we just have to have that latest cell phone. It's TECHNOLOGY! That's science...right? Science is supposed to be a good thing, right?
Face it, your clothes are made in sweatshops. Your food is poisoned. Your water is too. So is the air. Everything is taxed and taxed some more. Doctors can't do their jobs properly because the corporations own the hospitals, pharmaceutical companies, drug stores and insurance companies. There are no cures anymore. Only treatments. Treatments are more profitable.
The corporations have found that as long as WE are buying everything they sell, all can continue. Corporations create diversions. THIS is good. THAT is bad. Listen to US! Don't listen to THEM! It's all a game. Orwell called it! Oceania, Eurasia and Eastasia exist...and the war is perpetual. No winner. No losers. Just more and more stuff that you're told you want and probably can't truly afford.
Use the same razor for 2 months. Drink your Victory gin. Everything you buy is just another statistic for the corporations. Using that information, they'll decide what to make more of...and what should be new and improved. And we'll all buy it.
Suckers.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
The New Pledge of Allegiance
This country has changed over the past 20 years, and definitely NOT for the better. It's been taken over, bit by bit, by the large corporations. It has infiltrated every sector of modern life...from the clothes you wear to the food you eat to where you work to what you do for recreation. The worst part...WE THE PEOPLE allowed it.
So, it's time to think about a new pledge of allegiance. Here's what it probably should be. Forget all the patriots who came before us. It's now about the dollar and the bottom line.
Remember kids, I bitch because I care. I want America back. I'm not saying that it should be the 1950s again...I want America back because it used to be great. It's now a sad place well on it's way to becoming a 3rd World nation. And guess what...most of us will be among the "have nots" working for the few "haves". It's time to emancipate ourselves from corporate tyranny.
Sure, I can leave any time I like. I seriously thought about leaving for years. But America is my home. I love it here. And I want to help.
Please feel free to share this.
So, it's time to think about a new pledge of allegiance. Here's what it probably should be. Forget all the patriots who came before us. It's now about the dollar and the bottom line.
I pledge allegiance
to the accounts
of the Corporate States of America
and to the few
for which it serves
One nation, divided and conquered
with slavery, tyranny and hatred for all.
Remember kids, I bitch because I care. I want America back. I'm not saying that it should be the 1950s again...I want America back because it used to be great. It's now a sad place well on it's way to becoming a 3rd World nation. And guess what...most of us will be among the "have nots" working for the few "haves". It's time to emancipate ourselves from corporate tyranny.
Sure, I can leave any time I like. I seriously thought about leaving for years. But America is my home. I love it here. And I want to help.
Please feel free to share this.
Friday, April 5, 2013
Piece of Dick
I have a foul mouth. Always have. Even as a kid I could let loose a torrent of expletives that could make a truck driver blush. I'm not really sure where it came from. Mom rarely said more than "damn" and Dad's preferred swearing was "God dammit!" (usually aimed at myself, my brothers, or any combination of the 3 of us).
My freewheeling use of the "f-bomb" could drive my Aunt Ann into a tizzy. "Do you HAVE to use that word? And so often????" I always pointed out that it's 'just a word' and likely came from legal terminology for "For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge"....although just how true this is is beyond me.
Once, in about 6th grade, I let a loud and clear "Shit!" emanate during math class. I probably would've gotten in more trouble except it was one of the few times that I didn't stammer, so I think my teacher was more in shock than anything. In fact, I think she informed my speech therapist that the trick to ending my stammer was tied in with cursing.
Mind you, when I was a kid, swearing meant a lot more than it does now. Any school kid today knows pretty much most of the swear words that I took a lifetime to accumulate. Back then, you were lucky to hear "damn" on TV, unless it was a show about beavers. George Carlin's career was pretty much solidified by his "7 Dirty Words You Can't Say On TV". Along came Richard Pryor and all hell broke loose. He could outswear the best of them! And he was funny too! The grownups back then all complained and wanted to know if it was possible for these comedians to be funny without swearing. Personally, I liked it. I found cursing and swearing added emphasis to any conversation.
By my 30s, swearing was so much a part of my vernacular, that I didn't really even notice it anymore. I'd say "How the fuck are ya?" to the local preacher when I ran into him. He didn't seem to mind.
I got a real education on cursing when I started traveling overseas. When we think of British swearing, most Americans think of the word "bloody". Well let me tell ya...from firsthand experience, they cuss a bloody lot more than that! My good friend and one-time UK booking agent 2-Tone was, and probably still is, brilliant at letting his expletives fly. However, being an Englishman (although he swears he's Welsh...but that's a story for another day) his cursing is greatly different than American swearing. Sure, he'll use "damn", "shit", and the occasional "fuck/fucking"...but he takes it all to new heights with words like "twat" and "pillock". He suffers from intense road rage, as obviously he's the only person in all of the UK with complete and utter knowledge of the correct way to drive and he obviously believes all other drivers should adhere strictly to the traffic codes. That said, my all-time favorite swear of his happens most often while he's driving. Someone will do something on the road that gets his ire up, and he'll let forth with a mighty "Get out of the way you great dozy twat!" which is usually followed by "bloody pillock!". This always got a laugh from me. I've many times taken the thunder from his road rage by pointing out that, at least in American English, a "dozy twat" would be a "sleepy vagina". This would bring gales of laughter from anyone else in the car...but 2-Tone would just turn red as a steamed lobster and I'm personally surprised that his head never exploded.
Not to be outdone are the Australians. Before my first trip there, I'd never really thought of them as a swearing people. Sure, they might let a "crikey" slip now and then...but from phone conversations I'd had with my friend Mark, he always seemed seriously taken aback when I'd call him "fucker". I never meant it in a harsh way, just things like "Damn fucker...that was funny!" He asked if "motherfucker" was also used with great frequency by Americans, to wit I agreed that yes, it was.
Upon arriving in Australia, I found that the Aussies have us ALL beat when it comes to swearing. Their lexicon of profanities is almost glorious in it's beauty. To call it creative would be an understatement. In Oz, I learned such now favorite terms as "fuckwit" and "fuck knuckle" (both of which I learned from an Australian preacher). They can "hell" "damn" "shit" "piss" (their word for beer) "fuck" motherfuck" and just about anything else better than anyone I've ever heard.
What truly amazed me was their use of the "c" word. In America, that's one that we rarely ever use. If you're unsure of the word I mean, allow me to put it in the context that my friend DJ did. He is a frequent user of this particular word and once used it in mixed company...much to the dismay of our friend Sooz. DJ was discussing someone and said "This CoUNTry person"...he changed the word midbreath as Sooz looked ready to disembowel him with her bare hands...something Australian women are fully capable of doing.
I've found that learning to swear in foreign languages means learning how to swear all over again. Europeans tend to find being called a pig or a moose or a hunk of meat far more insulting than being called a "motherfucker" (which if you think about it, if she's a mother, she's already been...oh never mind...you get the idea). While amusing in it's initial novelty, learning to swear in say German or French or Italian, becomes tedious if not used with any frequency.
This has led me to rethink my own vulgar language. In the past few months, I've made a conscious effort to not swear as much. OH I THINK IT! But I don't always say it. Sure, I still let the f-bombs drop if I'm out with my friends having a few drinks, or if I'm at home working on something and say, smash myself with a hammer...but I've really been trying to tone it down. My Aunt Ann would've been proud.
A particular problem has come about due to this. The profanity has been bottled up in me for a while now, with only occasional venting. I've been finding myself, during such spurts, coming up with totally new (at least to me) cuss words. Just the other morning, I was having a really rough day. Everything that could go wrong, seemed to. I was in a truly foul mood and really was trying not to be so grumpy. Then it happened. Some inanimate object caught my anger and I called it...a piece of dick. The dam broke at that point. EVERYTHING became a piece of dick. My goddamned piece of dick computer was being a piece of dick. I didn't want to hear that piece of dick Depeche Mode song on the piece of dick radio. Almost every phrase that came out of my mouth for the next two hours included "piece of dick".
The young'un found this humorous. She rarely swears and being a sweet, gentle and polite soul, forgives me for my often foul mouth. However, this string of pieces of dick just tickled her fancy. She noted that as it sounds just so silly, she thought that perhaps I was trying to cheer myself up by saying such a silly thing. If she'd been anyone else, I would've bashed her piece of dick skull in with a piece of dick hammer or damned piece of dick 2x4. But...like I said, she's just so sweet and so gentle, I can never get angry with her. So yes, I did cheer up a bit. For the past few days, using the term "piece of dick" has become a running joke around our house. Even the cat is accustomed to hearing it now. Normally, when I swear, the cat will run out of the room. (she knows that some inanimate object is about to be hurled) Now, I can yell PIECE OF DICK at the top of my lungs and the cat won't even bat her tail.
My rough day is long over and I'm really trying not to be so vulgar (who says ya can't teach an old dog new tricks?) but really....piece of dick....that's funny.
My freewheeling use of the "f-bomb" could drive my Aunt Ann into a tizzy. "Do you HAVE to use that word? And so often????" I always pointed out that it's 'just a word' and likely came from legal terminology for "For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge"....although just how true this is is beyond me.
Once, in about 6th grade, I let a loud and clear "Shit!" emanate during math class. I probably would've gotten in more trouble except it was one of the few times that I didn't stammer, so I think my teacher was more in shock than anything. In fact, I think she informed my speech therapist that the trick to ending my stammer was tied in with cursing.
Mind you, when I was a kid, swearing meant a lot more than it does now. Any school kid today knows pretty much most of the swear words that I took a lifetime to accumulate. Back then, you were lucky to hear "damn" on TV, unless it was a show about beavers. George Carlin's career was pretty much solidified by his "7 Dirty Words You Can't Say On TV". Along came Richard Pryor and all hell broke loose. He could outswear the best of them! And he was funny too! The grownups back then all complained and wanted to know if it was possible for these comedians to be funny without swearing. Personally, I liked it. I found cursing and swearing added emphasis to any conversation.
By my 30s, swearing was so much a part of my vernacular, that I didn't really even notice it anymore. I'd say "How the fuck are ya?" to the local preacher when I ran into him. He didn't seem to mind.
I got a real education on cursing when I started traveling overseas. When we think of British swearing, most Americans think of the word "bloody". Well let me tell ya...from firsthand experience, they cuss a bloody lot more than that! My good friend and one-time UK booking agent 2-Tone was, and probably still is, brilliant at letting his expletives fly. However, being an Englishman (although he swears he's Welsh...but that's a story for another day) his cursing is greatly different than American swearing. Sure, he'll use "damn", "shit", and the occasional "fuck/fucking"...but he takes it all to new heights with words like "twat" and "pillock". He suffers from intense road rage, as obviously he's the only person in all of the UK with complete and utter knowledge of the correct way to drive and he obviously believes all other drivers should adhere strictly to the traffic codes. That said, my all-time favorite swear of his happens most often while he's driving. Someone will do something on the road that gets his ire up, and he'll let forth with a mighty "Get out of the way you great dozy twat!" which is usually followed by "bloody pillock!". This always got a laugh from me. I've many times taken the thunder from his road rage by pointing out that, at least in American English, a "dozy twat" would be a "sleepy vagina". This would bring gales of laughter from anyone else in the car...but 2-Tone would just turn red as a steamed lobster and I'm personally surprised that his head never exploded.
Not to be outdone are the Australians. Before my first trip there, I'd never really thought of them as a swearing people. Sure, they might let a "crikey" slip now and then...but from phone conversations I'd had with my friend Mark, he always seemed seriously taken aback when I'd call him "fucker". I never meant it in a harsh way, just things like "Damn fucker...that was funny!" He asked if "motherfucker" was also used with great frequency by Americans, to wit I agreed that yes, it was.
Upon arriving in Australia, I found that the Aussies have us ALL beat when it comes to swearing. Their lexicon of profanities is almost glorious in it's beauty. To call it creative would be an understatement. In Oz, I learned such now favorite terms as "fuckwit" and "fuck knuckle" (both of which I learned from an Australian preacher). They can "hell" "damn" "shit" "piss" (their word for beer) "fuck" motherfuck" and just about anything else better than anyone I've ever heard.
What truly amazed me was their use of the "c" word. In America, that's one that we rarely ever use. If you're unsure of the word I mean, allow me to put it in the context that my friend DJ did. He is a frequent user of this particular word and once used it in mixed company...much to the dismay of our friend Sooz. DJ was discussing someone and said "This CoUNTry person"...he changed the word midbreath as Sooz looked ready to disembowel him with her bare hands...something Australian women are fully capable of doing.
I've found that learning to swear in foreign languages means learning how to swear all over again. Europeans tend to find being called a pig or a moose or a hunk of meat far more insulting than being called a "motherfucker" (which if you think about it, if she's a mother, she's already been...oh never mind...you get the idea). While amusing in it's initial novelty, learning to swear in say German or French or Italian, becomes tedious if not used with any frequency.
This has led me to rethink my own vulgar language. In the past few months, I've made a conscious effort to not swear as much. OH I THINK IT! But I don't always say it. Sure, I still let the f-bombs drop if I'm out with my friends having a few drinks, or if I'm at home working on something and say, smash myself with a hammer...but I've really been trying to tone it down. My Aunt Ann would've been proud.
A particular problem has come about due to this. The profanity has been bottled up in me for a while now, with only occasional venting. I've been finding myself, during such spurts, coming up with totally new (at least to me) cuss words. Just the other morning, I was having a really rough day. Everything that could go wrong, seemed to. I was in a truly foul mood and really was trying not to be so grumpy. Then it happened. Some inanimate object caught my anger and I called it...a piece of dick. The dam broke at that point. EVERYTHING became a piece of dick. My goddamned piece of dick computer was being a piece of dick. I didn't want to hear that piece of dick Depeche Mode song on the piece of dick radio. Almost every phrase that came out of my mouth for the next two hours included "piece of dick".
The young'un found this humorous. She rarely swears and being a sweet, gentle and polite soul, forgives me for my often foul mouth. However, this string of pieces of dick just tickled her fancy. She noted that as it sounds just so silly, she thought that perhaps I was trying to cheer myself up by saying such a silly thing. If she'd been anyone else, I would've bashed her piece of dick skull in with a piece of dick hammer or damned piece of dick 2x4. But...like I said, she's just so sweet and so gentle, I can never get angry with her. So yes, I did cheer up a bit. For the past few days, using the term "piece of dick" has become a running joke around our house. Even the cat is accustomed to hearing it now. Normally, when I swear, the cat will run out of the room. (she knows that some inanimate object is about to be hurled) Now, I can yell PIECE OF DICK at the top of my lungs and the cat won't even bat her tail.
My rough day is long over and I'm really trying not to be so vulgar (who says ya can't teach an old dog new tricks?) but really....piece of dick....that's funny.
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