origins Vol. 4: freddie's dead...

In junior high school I played the trombone, and I was pretty good. I was the one of only two eigth graders in that year in the prestigious JHS 109 Jazz Band, Khadaffy Khan was the other, also a trombonist--he made me look silly on the instrument...



Our teacher and bandleader was the legendery Mr Allen Stier, among other things, the creator of the Ba-Sax, half bassoon, half sax, rumored to be living in Cuba, (the Ba-Sax, not Stier). Everybody wanted to be in Mr. Stier's class, but you had to pass a music test in the elementary school the year before. I was a lucky one. And even though I wanted to play drums, he put a trombone in my hand and called it mine. My brother, the elder also played the trombone in the jazz band...



The jazz band always played the popular jazz hits from the past plus a twist on new songs, among them a freaked out Rock Me Amadeus and the Theme to Peter Gunn. We played at Colden Center in Queens college and we began out the set with Peter Gunn coming up from the orchestra pit on a rising stage, it was the shit!! Girls yelling your name, people in the crowd going nuts, the jazz band was it, and we were good, highlighted by Chris Leathers, the greatest drummer I have ever heard in my life bar-none...



As good as we were Stier felt we needed a challenge, so for the weeks leading up to the Spring Concert we began work on a new piece--Red Clay by Freddie Hubbard. As we learned the piece, and it started to form I started to really dig the song, I didn't know it, in fact back then I wouldn't have known much, but I liked it. As we drew closer to the concert we all thought as a band that we had gotten very tight with the piece, Leathers had an incredible drum solo he would do in rehearsals--never the same thing twice--we began to press Stier if he was going to add it to the set, he kind of shot us a look and said 'nah'. Case closed. 'Amadeus' it was...



Years later working at Tower Records after we opened the jazz room, I opened up a copy of Red Clay. It was after closing so I turned it up all the way in the enclosed room. It was the first time I would actually hear the song outside of playing it, and it was at that moment that I realized why Stier wouldn't let us play the song that night of Spring Concert...



Red Clay is clearly one of the best songs ever recorded--ever. Do your self a solid justice and find a copy of this song and play it today. I would have attached a link here except I have been unable to find a full version. Do what you have to and find a copy. Sit down, with a cup of tea, a joint, a beer, a sandwich, whatever and take 13 minutes out of your day to hear perfection...



Freddie Hubbard was not the most innovative, or popular trumpet player, he was simply just the best at the instrument...



I found out early this morning that Freddie Hubbard died two days ago...

origins vol 3...the search for spock

For the record the name of this blog was given to me by my brother...

...He's a bastard, and he'll tell you so at beingabastardworks.blogspot.com

I was in the middle of the woods explaining to dean thrilla how arguing with me is a moot point when ill prepared and in the aftermath the bastard commented that my debate style was like a Constellation of Logic...

The bastard's blog apparently was tagged by left hand rob who has his own thing going on.  The link is on the bastard's blog, get it there 'cause I do don't do all that science shit...

The Idea was to take a picture right then and there and post and answer some question. I didn't have an opportunity to take a picture and then forgot about for hours, finally remember and there you go...

I'm supposed to answer some questions, but I'm not going to. I don't follow the rules anymore...

People ask me why I wear sunglasses all the time, I tell them simply...

...the Constellation of Logic is just much too bright

you must chill!...i have hidden your keys...

I want to start to go and see plays. I've been wanting to do this for a while. Robbo once talked about True West by Sam Shepherd and it just made me want to see it. It was revived by Philip Seymour Hoffman and John C Reilly a couple of years back but I was in Florida so I missed out then.


I remember reading in Details magazine leading up to the film Magnolia that John C, who was playing a police officer wanted to write in scenes of him mimicking an episode of Cops. It led to the scene where he does a little soliloquy about his job and its day to day aspects, the shot is fairly close one shot as he speaks. After the release the payoff of his speech, the shot cuts to a two shot where you find out that no one else is in the car. "I drink your milkshake" is good and all, but give me John C in that scene, the cut of him sitting on the edge of his bed watching the Today show and suddenly laughing as if he was suddenly amused at some innocuous barb by Katie Couric everytime. And if not that then give me the scene in Boogie Nights when he and Marc Wahlberg fight the studio manager for their demo tapes. There are outakes on the DVD, get it. The scene in front of the intrepid in State of Grace as Stevie. In the Details piece he relays a story of how, when he came up with the idea of using Cops as inspiration, friend and director, Paul Thomas Andersen would grab his camera and they would go over to Philip Seymour Hoffman's house, unbeknownst to him, and play out a scene from cops. That's a platinum fucking grill-piece, right there.


Hoffman in his own right, after trying to kiss Dirk in Boogie Nights, throwing a fit of sexual frustration. Or his tough guy in Punch Drunk Love, there's so much but I will always keep an eye on Along Came Polly when it comes on because of the basketball scenes but more importantly for the boardroom scene towards the end when he clears his throat for 5 minutes. The point is that these two actors are brilliant, they may even be brighter than the Constellation of Logic itself.


So, what's up with this dude...

What a slick faggot (my apologies to my homosexual friends who wouldn't be offended so much by my use of such an epitath but more because I would lump him into the gay community)...

20 years ago that dude was screaming "give me my firebird keys!"--he played the heavy's nameless cohort in "One Crazy Summer." John Cusack literally made him. I used the to dig the guy--eccentric, manic, he plays it well. But all this shouldn't be happening because of a show like "Entourage." People love that fucking show. I think it is the most overrated piece of jump the shark before the shark can even jump garbage. I liken it to when people fawn over the band Oasis, they have four albums and three good songs...THREE. Critics of Oasis say the ripped their best riffs and harmonies from the Beatles, I take it one step further and say Oasis ripped their best material from Badfinger...

I was psyched to find out that he was going to be in a David Mamet Play. I know, Speed the Plow was done years ago, infamously by Madonna, I tuned out like Mr. Blue. Mamet is great, Glengarry GlenRoss will go down as one of the finest pieces of writing anyone will ever get to see put to stage or screen...

Point is I wanted to see it, and now Piven can't seem to hold his fish--using mercury poisoning as an excuse for his exile. Couldn't have been all the boozing and no doubt cocaine you've snorting off of stripper's asses downtown could it. I mean, we're all big kids here in NYC Jeremy, this ain't no hick rodeo, you can't just storm off broadway and cry mercury poisoning. That's like Wahlberg getting all upset about the dead-on "say hi to your motha' for me" impersonation by Andy Samberg. At least Marc did a funny that weekend with Lorne, and Andy on SNL, the best part of which is him not even paying attention to Sarah Palin, when he accosted Lorne Michaels for Samberg's whereabouts. A guy I dig these days is Justin Timberlake, he just gets it. He makes himself fairly available and plays against his looks and dignity on a regular basis. He and Samberg make a good team. But Piven, Piven has himself holed up like he's reprising his role in Smokin' Aces...

I'm calling bullshit, Jeremy, you sign the deal you walk the fucking line, people paid good money to see you, not Elizabeth Moss (who I could take or leave, I didn't like her work on the West Wing and I don;t get all the hub-bub about Mad Men) and the other hothead, I didn't know he was alive into I saw the comercial for the play, he might as well been seating me at a table in Applebees. So I say fuck you Piven, fuck Ari Gold, you let get to your head, and I'm not having it...

There's a scene in Singles where Piven's store clerk recognizes Cambell Scott as an old college DJ he used to love, he's talking about how he used to spin records and he excitedly asks Scott's character if he would come to a throwdown his buddies are having later that night "its going to be major..." he then notices he is ringing up a pregnancy test for Scott and his amped expression fades dead away, "so, I guess your busy then," he says...

That's gold. Ari can go suck a dick...

honorable mention vol 1...

It has come to my attention that the actor Sam Bottoms has died. Bottoms was best known as Corporal Lance Johnson in the movie Apocalypse Now!--most notably in the air calvary scene along with Robert Duvall. I'm not going to link this scene for you because one of two things must be true in order for you to continue to follow this blog, you either:

1. Already have this scene playing in your mind as you read this.

2. Or you are consulting your copy, (any of the multiple versions will do), for the scene as you read this.

For the rest of you, you are dimissed...

As for you Lance Corporal Johnson, you too are dismissed, may you always surf the big wave...

free hair gel and sweat pants with each order...

HOLY MOTHERFUCKER!!!!

Are you fucking kidding me...

...I haven't seen one of these since the days of yore

I wonder if it comes with FREE DOMESTIC VIOLENCE inside...

your moment of clarity vol 1...

I guess its about time I talk about his Facebook thing.

Over the years you make friends, lose them and so on and so forth. Shit happens, thing falls apart, people grow, whatever excuse it is you want to use, don't matter, they've all been used. Fact is, maybe out of all the people you ever meet over the years through playing little league, playing handball and drinking at elementary school lot, or neighborhood park  or church parking lot—every place you ever had a drink, the hardcore/metal shows, High School, College, clubs, work, more work, yoga class, what have I bet you can name you're real friends, your real connections by counting fingers...

I'm not asking you to dis the majority of people you've ever met, but I think we all know there is a chosen few that stick in your head, people that have made a mark on your soul you can't wipe away...

Until recently I had been  missing some of those people in my life for some time. The people I understood and understood me likewise. I was missing them but there was always a backwards six degrees of separation to get in touch with these people and see them. I spoke on some weeks ago in this very place...

There has been one individual, that fluttered in and out of my thoughts over close to 15 years. One person who's distance and anonymity had haunted me for so long, I asked mutual friends, enemies, looked high and low (not really but it sounds like I really tried this way—'cause I did) only to fail time and time again. Until Facebook...

Since joining Facebook I have had run ins with a multitude of people from my past. And almost all of them I was glad to hear from. But then I saw her name come up...

We've been talking now through Facebook for a couple of days now. It the kind of talk you have with yourself on train platforms, or the walk up Broadway to Penn Station in wee small hours, or Robert Moses Beach. I don't get to have these conversations with anyone else, she's the only one, and its fucking freakin' me out—in a good way. I'm not going to get into specifics about our back and forth, because simply put, its none of your bizwix, and I'm sure she'll agree that most of you aren't worthy anyway, suffice to say that in talking with her I was inspired to say this...

...its a humbling experience to have your life in someone else's hands—its that when you actualy see, in reality, that your life is almost always in someone else's hands and you just have to hope that person is legit, whether its your doctor, or friend, parent or lover. The choice of who that person is, is yours—so you have to choose wisely...

and that's you're moment of clarity...

thanks little kitty, we'll be talking...

Homework

They say a picture is worth 1,000 words...

...GO!

Origins Vol.2 Electric Bugaloo...

Yeah, I'm making an effort to post twice in one calender week, up yours Flynn. Actually I'm not making much of an effort. I work in a series of random delusions, and when it suits me, I get up on here...

I have this revolving portion of a playlist on the rebirth of the kool (my IPod) that I keep playing over and over like a soundtrack. This happens from time to time where I just stick to one thing for long periods. Such was the case when Erykah Badu's last record came out, I listened to it non-stop for two and a half weeks...speaking of that, yo E, where's the new one, you said it would be out by now, but my ears ain't heard shit. Wha's happenin'?..

But I've been running through this set-- "Learning to Hunt" by Guided by Voices, "Beggin'" by Madcon, "Run to the Sun" by NERD, "Lost in a Supermarket" by the Clash and "Get Me" by Everything But the Girl and its starting to sound like a biography. Sometimes I let "Northern Sky" by Nick Drake bleed in and if there is time (and there should always be time) I skip to "Demon Sweat" by Ween and "Staralfur" by Sigur Ros, who I love for no other reason then they craft epics that sound like some beautiful gibberish (Check "Saeglopur" where the lyrics are actually an Icelandic nonsense language called Hopelandic, utterly special)...

The playlist itself, Space Out, bore its beginnings from a failed trip to Montauk that found me at Robert Moses State Park, paralyzed, and unable to drive, not because of lack of faculty, but because I completely forgot how. That's all I'm willing say about it at this point. Things have been different in my head since then, for good or bad remains to be seen, let's just leave it at that...

I'll be making some changes to Space Out as a whole, but that central component will stay undisturbed as a centerpiece, I just need to find the pieces around it. It could very well be the beginning of my first tape since Return of the 22 from Summer 2006...

Don't worry if it doesn't make sense, its not supposed to, at least to you. My goal is to make you think I'm nutcakes, because I am--as far as you know, and that's how I like it...

Good falafel today from the place below the LIRR tracks in the FHills, coming straight out of Rego has its advantages...

sheep?! i ain't no shepherd...

Oh, so you think you're all that, huh?! Well apparently I have my own gravitational pull—check it...

I hold my pose at the Jamaica LIRR Station all the way at the front of the platform when I wait for a train. I do so mostly to stay a way the bustle of the people moving aimlessly up , down and across the platforms. The front door of most trains open 10 feet or so short of me—that is how far up I am.

The Montauk train is powered by diesel engine. The tracks past a certain point on the island don't have a third rail so trains like the Montauk, Port Jeff and Oyster Bay trains are special they can run on both electric through the third rail and on diesel when the third rail disappears. The thing about these trains is that the first car is the engine, it doesn't take passengers. There is a cab for the engineers and then straight engine from there.

Depending on where my work takes me during the week I could be waiting at Jamaica for a train 2 or 3 times per week. And it never fails...

People feel the need to wait for their Montauk train all the way up with me...

...only to have to walk a 1/4 of the way down the platform to get on.

This happens everyday, no, check that, everyday I'm there to see it. During the summer I'm completely surrounded by throngs of annoying party-goers waiting to meet Buffy and Torg out in Southampton, only to watch them walk down the platform and stuff their smugness and excessive luggage onto the car a 1/4 of the way down the platform. It never fails. Never. And it makes me laugh.

Now I wonder, if like the tree falling in the abandoned forest, does the same thing occur when I'm not there. Or do I have gravitational pull, I mean let's face, sometimes I can't help but attract motherfuckers but it also occurs to me that it may be a sheep mentality.

When I get to my spot and sit up against the LIRR tool box, I'm the only one there. Depending on how early I get there before my train I'll see a stray smoker walking over to do the right thing and keep the smoke away from others further down the platform, (which I tip my hat to, but now I'm breathing that shit, bro'ham), but they always end up walking back down the platform after they have finished their smoke or until I have glared them into retreat. Besides those few, as the time for the Montauk train approaches, as well as the Freeport trains arrival which releases a large portion of this passenger variety, I find that when people see me waiting there I do they think 'well, if this guy is waiting here then this must be where the first door of the train opens'. Now I'm probably giving these people too much credit for having the power of rational thought, but nevertheless, I think its moments like these that show glaring instances of human nature's misguided need to follow the person in front of them even if that person was wrong. The sheep mentality...

I wonder if they would come so close if they knew that i ain't no shepherd, I'm the motherfuckin' wolf.

no shame in my game...

"Ey yo, son?"

"What's up son?"

"I heard some crabs-all-lennon, talking about how you drink 40s and this 

and this and that. Yo, tell me how you feel about that?"

" Yeah, whatever, whatever. Yo Premier, speed up this track and I'ma drop the latest facts..."

—Guru and Jeru the Damaja: circa 1992

I've been lax, no doubt. I've had some business to attend to, it can't always be about you hot freaks...

And no, I haven't been delivering rhymes of diesel and walking around with my head up but suffice to say I've been busy...

trainspotting...

supervising the boys while they start the drilling for my hole to China—because everyone should have their own hole to China...

making sure the heat works...

surveying my empire...

The Constellation of Logic demands time for contemplation...

lundy, lundy, lundy...

So why aren't you watching hockey?

A professional football team plays one game per NFL week, no matter what ESPN will have you think. College basketball is just getting started even Dickie V isn't all that excited yet. The NBA has let its product turn into a Michael Jordan look-a-like contest with the contestants nothing more than William Hungs. The refereeing is as bad as I have ever seen and if that wasn't enough, ESPN has had its hands on it for a few years now so it is only a matter of time until they ruin it further.

So why aren't you watching hockey?

I don't get Versus either--if that's still the place where you see a "national" game. I get my hockey from MSG Network home of the Rangers and now, apparently, all three Tri-State hockey clubs. JB lives a mile or so from the mausoleum, he's a lifelong Islander fan. He's lucky if a game is televised on his dish. Spag is in Brooklyn and relies on MSG 2, and that's no guarantee. Fitz, (cause he's the only guy I knew who was actually a Devil's fan), is probably having his own issues wherever the hell he is now.

Point is, where did all the hockey go? It wasn't to long ago that you could catch anywhere up to four games on a given night here in NYC if all three home teams were playing and there was a game on ESPN or ESPN 2. Now, pay the extra $20 for the channels over 100 if you want to catch, at best, two games on Versus.

A game of high-speed and virtually non-stop action is out there from October until May for you to enjoy and your watching the fucking World Series of Poker instead, re-runs no less.

Before I go any further, a word about the WSOP. This is a broadcast/tournament that has no stars because the best players always get beat by some smuck who doesn't know how to fold because there's no reason to fold when you're on-line playing for free. There are legendary cash-money players who deserve better than what they get then when some asshole 22 year old prick of a math student, calculating what the chances are of pulling his 2 and 3 of diamonds into sucking out a straight flush. Poker is not about counting. Counting is for the abacus. Poker is about balls. The WSOP broadcast is like watching the lottery drawing now. Its all about what number comes up.

Alas, the WSOP is exactly the reason hockey is no longer on ESPN. There is an episode on for a good four months straight every night on one of the two main ESPN networks. That's air-time that could be better used for hockey and lots of it. ESPN used to have a hockey contract, but after the strike they walked away. Maybe they were sore with the NHL because they had all that air-time to fill the time or they just thought the sport had no future. So they treated it as such and paid it no mind. Meanwhile they push football on a daily basis with a cavalcade of football programming. NFL Match-up, NFL Tonight, NFL Gameday, NFL Up Your Ass...

I like football, I like it a lot. I'm a big Jets fan as you can witness two posts below, but there is only so much I can give a shit about. It's almost like they created these shows so these washed up hacks can pretend they are still playing. Prancing around in their $1,000 suits demonstrating the art of running the fullback dive against the 3-4 when its raining on field turf. Fellas, save it. You should have saved your money instead of spending it on all the painkillers and honey's you did on the road.

I used to look forward to Sunday Night Hockey with Gary Thorn and Bill Clement. I used to love when Steve Levy and Darren Pang did playoff games because you could almost bet it would be some 5 OT affair that would last into the night, goalies standing one their heads and water bottles getting blasted off the top of the net. Dudes losing teeth after getting crushed into the glass. Those days are over. ESPN is eating itself, its becoming a network about itself and eschewing the sports it shows in the process. It's like MTV--video killed the radio star and then itself. The network retired total request live this past week. No great loss on the surface, I know, but it was the last program on that network that actually showed videos. MTV released a statement saying that with the popularity of its "reality" programming like "the Hills" and "Made" and whatever garbage they call entertainment these days, they want to focus on developing more programming in this vein. Reality killed the video star.

ESPN is doomed to the same fate. It's newest trick is creating stories like Notre Dame coach Charlie Weis is on the hot seat, he actually isn't, he's in the early part of a 10 year deal, and we all know the only thing the Catholic church spend money on is the Pope's hat. Notre Dame isn't going to buy out the six remaining years, that's nonsense. They just need something to talk about. They have created more falsehoods because they are the self-proclaimed "Worldwide Leader in Sports" and failing print media, desperate for a story to keep their papers afloat will latch onto anything that ESPN reports. Hacks, all of them.

And they've left hockey to die...

So why aren't you watching hockey? Is it because your provider doesn't offer it?--well, get on their case and tell them to offer it. Is it because ESPN tells you it isn't important?--fuck 'em. Is it because Gary Bettman is weaselly fuck who tried to run the sport into the ground?--well, you have a beef there.

Its fast, its furious and hot chicks dig it. Its old time hockey...get off your ass and get some while the getting is good.

Last night I watched Henrik Lundqvist stand on his head for 50 minutes until Freddie Sjostrom rifled a rebound past a ripe for the challenge Alex Auld. After a similar display of head-standing in OT by both goalies, Nikolas Zherdev zipped a wrister through Auld's five-hole while Lundy did three straight head spins to lead the Rangers over the Ottawa Senators. 2-1.

Lundy is killing it right now and you're watching someone flop top pair. Reggie Dunlop would kick your ass!

how to use scott larock in a politcal post...

Earlier this year they renamed the Tri-Borough Bridge the Robert F Kennedy Memorial Bridge. You may not know that. I, in fact, forgot. Not because RFK lacked importance in American History, but because we like to keep things real here in the City that Created the Old School. A lot of us still call the Jackie Robinson Parkway, the Interboro Pkwy, no offense intended its just the way it is. I think if they really wanted to the rename the Tri-Boro it should have been the Scott LaRock Memorial Bridge, considering it connects the three points that created hip-hop. Sorry Brooklyn, you are still faking it, your own Mos Def says so.

Point is, no one will ever call it the Robert F Kennedy Memorial Bridge, or the "RFK" or the "Bobby" because its the Tri-Borough. The Bastard, (that would be my brother from another blog) and I took it not too long on our way upstate and I remember saying to him after he picked me up in LIC, "we can take Jackson, it turns into Northern Blvd, to the BQE to the Tri-Boro--we don"t need no english lady to tell us where we're going."

RFK was a New York State Senator so I see the impetus behind the movement to rename the bridge, but why not wait until the Tappan Zee crumbles into the Hudson River (with my luck, I'll be on it at the time screaming "I'm loving it!"). They can name the new bridge in place of it after him. It would be a more fitting tribute. With all the talk of what the new economic stimulus program that is being bandied about the one aspect that is the most logical is using public works projects to reengineer the infrastructure of this country. It would create jobs, growth and good feeling. It would also properly honor a man who decided to stand up for your liberty only to be shot down by tyranny.

We all know the story. JFK gets elected, in no small part, due to a lot of dead people in Illinois that happen to know Sam Giancana. JFK blows the Bay of Pigs and gets the CIA mad at him, even though he took full responsibility. When the Russians stuck missles in Fidel Castro's underwear, rather than enabeling the Defense Dept and the CIA to start a nuclear war he plays it cool and uses diplomacy to thwart the threat, America loves the dude, the defense establishment hate him. I mean how are all those private defense contractors supposed to make any money without a cold war, I mean, is this guy nuts? No he's just getting laid. And by the best of them, no doubt. Some of them are friends of old Momo (Giancana). When Momo starts calling in his favors through Frank Sinatra and Peter Lawford Bobby gets a little uppity tells Jack he has to tell Frank, Peter and Momo to all go screw. Next thing you know, back and to the left and Oswalt is shot by Ruby, cased closed. Bobby decides to continue to fight the good fight and becomes the Senator of the Great State of New York. He fights segregation and facsism for a couple of years and then decides to run for persident until some dude who might as well have been named for a new wave band puts a couple of bullets in him. That moment spelled the the end for the era of wide eyed thinking and hope for 40 years. 40 years of Vietnam, Cheney/Rumsfeld, Watergate, Reagonomics, "The War on Drugs", Iran Contra, Neo Cons, Cheney/Rumsfeld, Cats and Dogs Living Together, Lincoln Federal, New Kids on the Block,  Haliburtons, The baseball Wild Card, Lewinsky and Starr, 9/11, Blue Collar  TV, Cheney and Rumsfeld, Haliburton again and Wall Street sell offs.

I just connected the dots in one paragraph. Thats how easy it is. The events of the last few weeks were not just about bringing hope back, or ending the last eight years of passive aggressive ignorance. It's about the 40 years this country has been under siege. Some will tell you its been longer than that, but for the sake of symbolism I'm sticking with 40, because there hasn't been real hope in this nation since Bobby fell to the ground in California that night in 1968. With all of the this before you, I offer a truce. An olive branch. That's right Republicans, I'm going to do you a favor. I'm going to let you tap into the constellation of logic.

Secede from your party. It is not yours anymore. Did you see all of those life long republicans jumping ship in October? Go ahead, the water is fine. Look what you have to look forward to a facsist pig with lipstick, a mormon or any number of half-baked ex-preachers or hack ex-mayors (NYers know, its true you boys (and girls)) who have only one thing to run on--fear. Sorry guys, I'm scared anymore, in fact I haven't been scared in a while and I don't think I'm alone. These folks don't share your ideals, some of them don't even believe in dinosaurs,  and their argument against this point is that dinosaurs aren't in the Bible—because that's valueable reference material—and its not really a reason!!!!

Reason, now there's a thing...

The richest 1% of this country have been using the uneducated, slaphappy, god loving-no count half of our populace as muscle, what are you going to do about it?  Now, for those of you who are content with letting your god  make your decisions for you then you are content to never make a decision for yourself and I am with content with putting one behind your ear for the rest of us free thinkers. The world was made for us, we're just letting you suck oxygen. Do you remember free will? These people have been shaping the debate of the right wing for too long, unwittingly separating the country in two while not even realizing that, when push comes to shove, they too are on the short end. 

Don't despair, there is a place in the debate for Republican ideas when it comes to protecting the constitution and smaller government, even the death penalty and defense as long as you don't go all Alexander Haig on us.  I know it wasn't Goldwater who wanted to take your right to privacy away or let the defense department be a lousy spendthrift while we stuck 35 kids in a classroom made for 20. There is a way to negotiate. That's what politicking is. Or at least should be. The free market is an oxymoron, regulation is necessary. Would you let your kids go without parenting? Stupid question.

Don't stand along with the morality junkies, they are closet amoral. There against giving a woman the right to choose but see no reason why they shouldn't give a felon the right to die. The fact is Roe Vs Wade will never be overturned and no one will have to take your gun away from your cold dead hands because if they did, they would be fucking with the Constitution and the Bill of Rights, and no self respecting Supreme Court Justice is going to do that--EVER, right or left, so relax. No birth control? No problem, we'll just overpopulate the world with more young impressionable morons—that's the definition of abstinence, right? Gay marriage, ok, you want save the sanctity of marriage? Stay married. When you can do that, you can use the argument, until then who cares? I sure as hell don't, just living on the planet over the past 35 years I can see its basically touch and go.

Morality terrorists. Enough of the move fakin'!

Hope is not lost for your kind, dear elephants. There are still plenty of "Lincoln republicans" out there, Chuck Hagel is one, and I have a lot of respect for that man because he fights for reason. John McCain used to, but that poor old doddering fool felt like he had to chop block to win a presidency he didn't know what he was even going to do with it . He's broken down and he got weak, and the neo-cons got their teeth into him. Don't let the Hannitys, Coulters, Limbaughs and O'Reillys do your talking for you. While Hannity and Coulter may actually believe what there saying, Limbaugh has been proven a hypocrite time and again sitting in his ivory tower outside of Boca Raton. O'Reilly knows the more he ramps up his dreck the better his show does--and the fatter his paycheck gets. I'm convinced he doesn't believe half the shit he says anyway. I've heard the dude on other "liberal" media shows, he's brings a totally different act. And that is the gordeon's knot  you sane, level headed rebublicans find yourselves tied  in. You lack a voice of reason. The democrats finally put up a guy with some shine on him that actually looks like he can dust this country off. That's all it took—'cause you guys had nothing.

You guys are going to have eight years to figure it out, but I'm telling you, deep six the neo-cons, the Palins, the Romneys all of them, they're wasted. Time is running and passing and running. It's time to build a new bridge, not one that had a perfectly good name--where someone came along and proclaimed it to be something its not--but a brand new bridge, that you can be proud to call your own. You never know, people may like driving on that bridge.

The Scott LaRock Bridge, that would be fresh for '89 you suckas...

same old jets...

Tonight the Jets get to show everybody how good they are.

I'm going to say because I believe it true; THE JETS CAN WIN THE SUPER BOWL THIS YEAR.

They can. The offensive and defensive lines have been downright dominant for a few weeks now. Thomas Jones has hit his stride. Darelle Revis has cut the field in half. Dustin Keller is starting to make a difference and Brett Farve can still throw it when it counts—and nine games in, he finally seems to know how to drive this car. They are getting better and better every week, much like the Giants did last year. Sure, the Titans look strong, real strong, but the only real defense they have faced this year doesn't really have an offense (Steelers). The Jets can score points, stop the run and rush the quarterback. They are opportunistic in the secondary and know how to tackle. They run the ball well and have a dangerous return man. While I'm not much of a Mangini fan—I think he's a shakey decision maker, he keeps the team grounded and motivated and sometimes, especially when you have a guy like Farve.

All of that said, if they lose tonight, pack it in and go home. They will probably make the playoffs and maybe even win  a week, but who cares. Farve is gone next year and your looking at Kellen Clemens, although I would prefer Brett Ratliff.  Thomas Jones will be a year older, and they have a middle to late round draft pick. 

This is their time. A win tonight builds confidence on the road. A win tonight clears the way for a division title and a bye week. There a lot of good teams in the NFL. The Steelers are good, so are the Redskins, and the Bears the Colts, the Bills, the Ravens and even the Cardinals. In my mind the only two teams playing Super Bowl football right now are the Titans and the Giants. The Jets are on the precipice of something special. 

The Patriots are good. But more importantly the are the Jets' nemesis. Their monkey, their dragon to slay. The Jets are good. They are worlds better than they were in Week 2, but whether they are Super Bowl good, well...

Football seasons are filled with sea changes. no one saw the Giants coming until they were strolling down Broadway. But the Giants have won some big games in their time. Its been a long time since Broadway Joe did his pimp walk sporting the fur coat and a flask of  Alabama moonshine. He is the only guy you really care to recognize when it comes to the Jets. The Richard Todd book signings attract more lint then football fans, even his mother wouldn't want his signature. Wesley Walker was a fan favorite but so was Johnny Lam Jones. Blair Thomas. Jeff Lageman. Browning Nagle. Thankfully, I find it hard to remember anything earlier than AJ Duey.

S-A-M-E—SAME OLD JETS!

This is their night to show the world they are not the same old Jets, at least for one season.

 

J-E-T-S! Jets, Jets, Jets! Kick 'em in the knee fellas!

let the healing begin...

So word is GM is charged with the task of furnishing the latest presidential limo. 

It's a Cadillac...

You just can't make that kind of shit up. I mean they might as well have made it an Olds 98. 

I want to see my president-elect come rolling through town, diamond in the back, always having his windows rolled down singing, "I know you hate my 98—YOU'RE GONNA GET YOURS!!"

origins vol1...

I didn't have the opportunity to go away to college. I went to a University in New york City with no dorms, and I took the same bus I took when I went to high school. It was a bit of a rip off, considering it wasn't really my choice to stay in the city at that point, but at the time, I had no choice—I was still a little radioactive back then. Point is, I didn't get that quintessential college experience one gets from living in campus housing and all that entails.

My freshman year I started working at a Tower Records out in Carle Place, LI. December, 12 1991, at least I think it was the 12th, I'd ask Dave Cooper, but he's either drunk, dead or British, and either way, know one I know has seen him in at least 14 years. I worked there until December 30, 1997. That's a long time to work retail, but I needed to pay for school and then needed somewhere to hang out at before I was ready to join the rest of the work force in reality. Over the 6 years I worked there I met so many people, listened to so much music, ate so much taco bell, went to so many shows, drank so much beer, attended so many parties and smoke so many cigarettes that you can indeed say that my time at Tower Records was my college life. I bring it up because the point was raised last night in Brooklyn. I sat, ate, and helped save the world from alcohol with three of greatest and most legendary members of that era of my life.

Invariably, when we get together, which, thankfully, seems to be becoming a more regular thing these days, the old days come up—the parties, the people, the customers and the smoking breaks. However, what is refreshing is how much we end up talking about something else, whether its our own lives or life in general. I said to my host, Spag, last night, as I have in the past when we have crossed path at Croxely's, or punk rock shows or the Hempstead line that if a psychologist put the two of us in a room together and wagered whether we would become friends the hypothesis would read no. The same can be said about a lot of us that worked at Tower and ended up becoming friends, but Spag replied that we all seemed to have the same thing inside that brought us all together. A familiarity if you will. The same could be said about Sods and Anne. Although you would never guess any of us would become and remain friends at first glance, there were the four of us last night in Brooklyn, enjoying an incredible meal compliments of Spag over a decade later...

There was no Lenny, he's tending to the wilderness and his brood in North Carolina, or Andrea who is unexpectedly in town but unfortunately indisposed, our thoughts with her. There was no Hope or Reggie, although in a frenetic moment between the lemon grappa and G & Ts, we reached out to Arizona to see if they had Lenny's number. No Hripsack, Maureen, Mary Duggan, Chris Feehan or Ellen. Just us four—for now.

The thing you get from the college experience is the relationships you forge within the construct of being bound to the same environment. The same can be said about a place like Tower Records. A working environment unique like no other. We all came to Tower and worked there for a variety of reasons, but we stayed there and interacted there together because there was a common thread that tied us together and that in turn has brought us back together. This much I know—I wouldn't be the person I am now without, the thoughtfulness and steady ear of Sods, the sweetness and grace of Anne, and the energy and sheer will of Spag—then and now. Here's to many more trips to Brooklyn and the like.

Here's to listening to a couple of more records...

TW's guide to spending your day vol. 1...

One of my hobbies is walking the streets. Strange...maybe, cathartic...absolutely.

I took a couple of days off work after election day—Local 3 in the house—because the Thrillas and NRSV were opening for the Bad Brains at Irving Plaza. K Luv suggested I meet them at the joint around 5:30, so I figured I'd make an afternoon of my commute to the show.

Enjoy...

My starting point. The iLLage. Also known as the Vill, the Q.V., or, to the purists, Queens Village...

hitting the trail in Central Park...

To the business at hand...

I met up with the mullato and Dixon at the venue and barely had enough time to dry off before Dean-Thrilla called me up to pick up some Old English 800 for the performance—its a NRSV standard. Irving Plaza is located at Irving Place and 15th Street. 10 years ago I could have walked next door and picked up any manner of malt liquor, but in today's NYC this has become a more difficult task, thankfully Pedro's Market on 4th Avenue and 17th street came through in the clutch...

 As always...

...hardcore-ing their lousy asses off...

...No Redeeming Social Value

And of course the main event...

...the Bad Brains

The Bad Brains have had multiple lineups over the years, however, last night the original lineup of HR, Dr. Know, Daryl, and Earl performed. HR is legendary for his moodiness, arrogance and egotism over the years, one of the main reasons the band has broken up so many times and added other members. These days HR seems at peace, maybe too peaceful. Apparently he is packing his chalice a little heavier than most. Nevertheless, he still knows how to put it down. 

I and I really does survive.

The moral of the story is this, play hooky, strap on a soundtrack, and walk amongst the vampires every once and while...

...it does a body good.

open your eyes...

Wake up America. You've been sleeping. Or should have say, you've been sleeping one off. You passed sometime around 8:46 Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001. You were under the covers and you let the monster in your closet to take over. Not to worry, I've been up tending the fire, I'll get you up to date.

It was a sham,—it still is, but this 8-year blight is dissolving into history and the Constitution is still intact. I thank you.

The events of the past hours were a referendum on ignorance. I've actually spent some part of the past 8 years surrounded by such unadulterated foolishness. But this era of ignorance has ended. Voodoo economics, vampire foreign policy, hate and fear be gone. Its time. 

There will be more about the past and the future in this place, this is but a preamble. But for now I'm going to save the politics and pontification for another time, there's no need for all that salt. Back in my days of street philosophy up against the store window I used to say that I'll stand here and talk about any number of things, you can choose to listen and participate or you can walk on by. The Camel Lights have disappeared, but the attitude has not. I haven't written with any purpose for many years, but I feel its time to get to it again. I'll be writing about any number of things here, you can choose to read, digest and participate or you can go read someone else's tripe. It's fine with me.  

Right now I choose to bask in the light of reason. 

Rub your eyes America, that beacon you see is the constellation of logic.