American Football
(A Reflection upon the Gulf War)
by Harold Pinter

Hallelullah!
It works.
We blew the shit out of them.

We blew the shit right back up their own ass
And out their fucking ears.

It works.
We blew the shit out of them.
They suffocated in their own shit!

Hallelullah.
Praise the Lord for all good things.

We blew them into fucking shit.
They are eating it.

Praise the Lord for all good things.

We blew their balls into shards of dust,
Into shards of fucking dust.

We did it.

Now I want you to come over here and kiss me on the mouth.

free thanksgiving sunday

I think should put this resolutely the ignorance oif the man who puts the sign up indicating that native canadainas need to leave their current lives behined and litter less often can be misconstrued to be a simple statemnt about racial but the truth is you could cut out an asshole and put it solid gross in a old yogurt container and use that if you want lesss mess. And your neck is slunking and your jaw is slunking.
 

A Man Like Me Ain't

A man like me ain't used to much in way of effort and gain; I balk often and act little. I get the fear'o'death jealousy when I back-room witness the success of others. The success-dream they have, they share with all the world, whether the fragile egos of so many are able to accept this primitive fact is only important insofar that the very denial of acknowledging such a basic drive creates psychic problems in most individuals with "higher-ideals". The truth is, we all have, at some basic level, unless impaired at birth or by life (learning), the will to not only survive but the will to thrive. To thrive is to desire more than is required for basic survival and attain more than is needed for basic success; the will to thrive is conceptually infinite.

As natural as it is, I believe the will to thrive is unholy; that which I consciously refute on an almost daily basis, for Glee and Joy and Arrogant Me, in the 'bigger picture' it's very obviously unimportant, right? What does God care about nice-tits, sugar, and lotteries? Yet these assertions also now partially disturb me for they intimate the unimportance of our intrinsic success-drive within the 'bigger-picture' which implies that the importance of a 'bigger picture' is virtually nil, which further implies that the existence of the 'bigger-picture' is also very unlikely.

The life-specific epidemic that is the drive for thriving success has from birth slimed its way into my very being, as it has likewise done to you, but most probably, unlike you, it has teased me for every convoluted idea that's pertained to Holy-justice and morality, for every spider I refused to step on and every first-step I've felt to be too blithe to take. I can read great thoughts by powerful men and feel a World of honeyed-ideologies swarm my head, "hallelujah,I'm a bum!", but I can barely follow their almost convincing truths under my heavy blanket. A cowardly man is a man is a man is the man who's afraid to admit he's more or less regular and his species-first/individual-second normalcy that he's so reluctant to reveal is universally, humankind's very own insatiable ambition. We are born knowing greed as a tool of gratuitous survival, for to have more and more-- and more in store, is to never have less; more is simply less risky even if it causes our consciences to *wince (in some more than others). A regular guy goes out and seems pathetic, shallow and aimless to the more cowardly man, the poser of higher ideals who follows bright ideas only in soap-bubbles and eyes-closed day-dreams.

Is it better to embrace the diffused greed and lust that is disgracefully unacknowledged by my mind or better to resurrect it; to accept it as the reality of being born and living, at this time, in this place, thereby removing the stressing battle of fantastic thoughtfulness and evil (empty) authenticity? Is there a better measuring device than success--- isn't success by definition the only measure?

*(To feel guilty, rightly or wrongly, that�s the very crux of another problem)

. 

Close-Up of Piggie, a playground, Irma, Alberta, Canada 

Horse from See-Saw, a playground, Irma, Alberta, Canada 

The Creature Springy Deal, a playground, Irma, Alberta, Canada 

The Creature See-Saws, a playground, Irma, Alberta, Canada 

Elephant, a playground, Irma, Alberta, Canada 

Ducky, a playground, Irma, Alberta, Canada. 

Wormie, a playground, Irma, Alberta, Canada 

Piggie, a playground, Irma, Alberta, Canada.  

Horse-Ride, Playground, Irma, Alberta, Canada. 

Horse-ride, A playground, Irma, Alberta, Canada. 

shimmery shoe 

censor assholers treasonous Sheikhers

The latest law proposed in Britain, pertaining to the prosecution of those who sympathize with the extremist-Muslim views against the West, is a dangerous one. This law threatens to charge anyone who expresses their support for violence against the West with treason for expressing their views.

Free speech, the expression of opinion is under attack; in this case the view just happens to be particularly despicable and spiteful. I am not condoning the things that come out of these asshole’s mouths, the way they blatantly celebrate death and violence but I am standing by their right to express their concerns and hatred -- or anything else for that matter that they feel they need express. I believe that many of their views are extreme deviations from what might be have been originally grounded in honest and informed objections to Western imperialist tendencies, i.e.; war, theft, greed, murder, exploitation, etc... These deviations, once they get to the point where they praise counter-attacks and support rancour and violence are no longer rational; they’ve then strayed too far, but I repeat, to emphasize this notion: if you go back far enough most of the arguments and complaints have a semblance of genuine legitimacy. Besides, whether the argument is legitimate or not should not hinder the right to express it. I think that the ability to objectify hate is an innate right; natural and universal.

To condemn a man for his words, ideas and opinions is absolutely wrong. A man’s words should be listened to, then agreed with or disagreed with, then respectively shared or debated, liked or hated, nothing more. To punish and censor ideas, any ideas, is the greater sin.

6:03 am, July 29 '05 (east), Jasper Avenue 

6:02 am, July 29 '05 (sw) 

6:02 am, July 29 '05 

Frank Black: Honeycomb (Album Review)

Frank Black
Honeycomb

Ok, Frank Black is, in my opinion, one of the most "natural" sounding songwriters I've ever heard. I know I can't be sure but seems to me, like Paul McCartney or Townes Vans Zandt behore him, you really get the impression while listening to his songs that he doesn't have to try very hard and that for the most part the songs come pretty quick and effortlessly. Honeycomb like all FB's albums (with or without "the Catholics") sounds really natural, yet that's surprising considering he's out of his usual "alternative rock" element.

Honeycomb is recorded with some session bigwigs and the whole feel is very straight and very laid-back---bluesy, almost classic R&B meets country, at times. It's a little disconcerting at first, I mean, my first listen I kept going, "what the fuck is Frank Black doing with this Eric Clapton shit?" But then I kept listening, perhaps giving it more of an effort than I usually would permit based on his previous gifts. Anyway, I am pleasantly surprised to inform you that the album gets better and better after each listen, in fact I think it's a pretty exceptional album; better than most in general, that goes without saying, but also in the mid to upper-echelon of the FB catalogue, which amazes me considering the "R & B" genre and production.

Anyway, sounds like Frank Blacks 40 years old (which he is) but he wears it well. There is a weird duet he does with his estranged wife called "Strange Goodbye" where they admit their relationship is over but 'grin and bear it'. It's a neat part of the soap-opera aspects of FB's life that he often brings to his albums, especially if you consider the break-up album that preceded this one "Show Me Your Tears", (mind you this one has a few break-up songs too, remnants of the bust up would be my guess---heck it also has a love song to his new wifey and mother of his brand new son, after her, it's called "Violet" ---it's not very good) There is a really great cover song called "Sunday Sunny Mill Groove Day"--a super 70's California hippy feel to it but I really dig it. The strongest tracks are the opener "Selkie Bride", "Sing for Joy", "I Burn Today" the aforementioned cover and "My Life in Storage".

Anyway, Honeycomb is very relaxed and laid-back and on it FB sounds confident. I recommend it, but give it a chance to embed itself with a few listens or you'll say, "what the fuck's with the Eric Clapton shit?"

7.5/10

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