Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

The GOP members of the house had a dilemma today; whether to hold their breath until blue or take their ball and go home. They opted for the latter. The former struck them as bad form. Unseemly. Immature.

See, the Democrats of the same body were pushing to hold the most dubiously qualified Supreme Court nominee in history and replacement for the alarmingly obsequious and chronically full of shit Alberto Gonzales, Harriet Miers, as well as notorious White House crony Josh Bolten, in contempt.

Minority Leader John Boehner said, “We will not stand here and watch this floor be abused for pure political grandstanding at the expense of our national security,”. What a dick. I don’t care how he claims his sir name should be pronounced, looks like BONER to me. BONER became House Minority Leader, replacing DeLay, after that fucktard was indicted.

It didn’t have dick to do with national security.

Miers and Bolten refused to testify before the House Judiciary Committee about the nefarious firing of nine federal prosecutors for not pursuing bullshit voter fuckery against various Democrats. The White House claims executive privilege on their behalf. It is the furthest this brand of smoke & mirror subterfuge has ever been stretched.

White House spokeswoman Dana Perino called the move “a partisan, futile act” that would not be enforced by the Justice Department. -CNN

Full of shit.

The Republicans were whining for the Dems to renew the surveillance bill that allows for immunity from prosecution for the the big telecom plutocrats that illegally cooperated with Dick-in-Bush in the wiretapping of innocent Americans. Yep, Dick-in-Bush don’t want to see them testify because it will conclude with both their corrupt asses being held accountable.

On the spit, maybe.

And therein lies the irony of the rub. The DOJ would be counted on to execute the contempt charges, yet it is the very same bureaucracy at the center of the scandal for the prosecutor firings

This whole thing is unfuckingbelievable.

Man I hate these guys.

Meanwhile, despite the fact that they’ve hated on each other publicly, Guy Smiley endorses Doubtfire while one of the Little Bootlicker’s top advisors, Mark McKinnon, vows to resign if Obama wins the Democratic nomination.

Obama beat Hillary the other day by a vote total of more than McCain actually recieved all night.

She did however, prevail in New Mexico today by a margin so slim her nails still look ok.

Larry Craig stopped dangling today. Yeah, check this. He got a letter today from whatever collection of dipshits appointed to investigate him. Um, The Senate Ethics Committee.

Oh man.

It seems he paid over two hundred thousand dollars in legal fees for soliciting an undercover cop for sex in an airport bathroom with campaign donations. With money that people donated for his re-election. The letter from the committee went on to say they believed he “committed the offense to which you pled guilty” and that “you entered your plea knowingly, voluntarily and intelligently.” -AP

No censure, no call for resignation. Giant spineless vaginas. Check my categories for more on this prick Larry Craig.

What exactly is going on in the Senate? They can’t even publicly decry this piece of shit? Issue a statement saying he’s a jackass and should walk? Under Mr. Harry Reid, the Democrats are goddamn ridiculous.

The republicans are swimming in shit and the wind is blowing it into their pie holes. Right into their faces.

Senate Democrats walk around with mouths wide open in stupidity at the same time.

Drinks for my friends.

Hills has been bracing for heavy weather all day. Well, much longer than that.

Barack Obama.

The Clinton machine fully expected to be holding it’s ass in front of itself by sunset here in the West today.

I know, huh?

What?

The boat of Billary is taking on water.

It’s a big ass boat, she’s begun to toss a few over the rail. Patti Solis Doyle, campaign manager, will be replaced by Mary Tyler Moore. I mean Maggie Williams.

No apologies; no shit, she’s black.

Is it a good idea to have a middle name in the Hillary Rodham Clinton campaign? Oh, and today we hear of the resignation of Deputy Campaign Manager Mike Henry. What of William Jefferson Clinton?

Make no mistake. This is a contemporary dynasty on the ropes. This really is history. Goddamn this is interesting. And compelling and portentous. I hope you people are watching. I hope you’re singing along.

It is nuts. I’m really worried reality TV fucktards will smell how cool this is and start tuning in and voting. Sheezus. With an abruptness so complete it will have it’s own violent sound, The Great Unwashed will stumble to the polls and chaos will be a way of life shortly thereafter and forever.

Sometimes I can’t believe the shit I talk.

Tonight, he’s simultaneously ice blue cool and incendiary. He’s commanding the votes of women, seniors, the youth, rural, suburban, metro and every income demographic. It is amazing. The audacity of hope indeed.

Momentum. Inertia.

Momentum: “force or speed of movement; impetus, as of a physical object or course of events”.

Inertia: “Physics The tendency of a body to resist acceleration; the tendency of a body at rest to remain at rest or of a body in straight line motion to stay in motion in a straight line unless acted on by an outside force.”

Outside force, apparently not factoring in.

He is a human hurricane. Category three and gaining strength.

His speech tonight is in Madison Wisconsin. I made the biggest record of my career in that charming town some twelve or thirteen years ago. I remember thinking how nice everyone was after spending a decade in LA. They were normal and helpful and friendly. I winced when my soon to be rockstar client was rude to almost everyone we came in contact with.

He speaks with grace, humility and power. He owns just exactly where he is.

“Cynicism is a sorry kind of wisdom”, he says. Excellent.

CNN cuts to Doubtfire and I am struck dumb by the contrast.

He says literally nothing, save for threatening that a Democrat will compromise your values, your wallet and your safety. Yawn. Never heard that one before.

The current Republican administration has with brutal and unflinching efficacy, with malice even, harpooned America’s pockets, her pride and the respect and strength she once enjoyed under the global proscenium.

War. War. War. I don’t dislike McCain. He’s had the shit kicked out of him in a way that we simply cannot begin to comprehend. It makes it all the more shameful on his part that he has actually suggested publicly our occupation in Iraq should last a century. For what fuckhead? Oil? If it’s not obsolete by then, the entire world, not to mention the human race, will be facing the end of days.

For a man who’s literally had the shit beaten from him, he is full to bursting with it.

He is right on one thing. It just happens to be a very important thing. Torture. Important, too bad that’s all he’s learned.

His positions and policies on every other vital issue are underthought, intellectually dishonest and bereft of the merest modicum of common sense. Permanent tax cuts for the rich, a war without end……………….

Yes, this man is a dipshit.

Doubtfire, the bootlicker stands not a chance.

The calculus is thus: A man who is in touch versus a man who is out of touch.

Do the math.

Peace.

Drinks for my friends.

Andy Williams looks like shit.

Am I loser because I’m sitting at home on a Sunday night for the second year in a row watching the Grammys? I never used to watch award shows. I was too busy. I was too punk rock! Well, maybe not, but I always found them boring. Have I changed? Am I even less punk rock than when I kinda pretended to be?

Maybe it’s nostalgia. That little ripple when you see someone on TV you’ve been face to face with.

It’s not as good as it was last year but I’m entertained.

That last sentence brought to you by Justin Bateman who I have on MUTE.

Fucking Foo Fighters. Best rock band on the planet today. Orchestra didn’t really work until the band kicked in, then it fucking slayed me. Engineering nightmare.

Nirvana? I was absolutely a fan. But I’m more grateful to that band for Dave Grohl than anything else. Fucking Foo Fighters.

Who the fuck is Brad Paisly? His tone sucks. Pretty good picker though. His tone gets better. It’s a dumb country song well played.

Did you see the thighs on Beyonce? Sheezus. Very unclean thoughts.

Take your fucking glasses off Kanye. Then he rambles self indulgently and more than a little pompously while invoking his mother. How old is this guy? He needs to back up and count to ten. Humility goes a long way on TV.

What’s this Aretha-God shit? Took the engineer a good eight bars to figure out the horns. After that it was pretty cool. Great drummer. Excellent band. Then Aretha comes back out in a tent and I’m wondering was this God shit her idea? Great choir.

Commercial. ‘Scuse me while I piss the sky.

Feist? Horns sounded a little loose.

Kid Rock. Nice try. Had to step out for a smoke.

Fucking Foo Fighters. Best rock record. Ha bitches!

I don’t understand the appeal of lizards dancing with a hot black chick to “Thriller”.

Stevie Wonder has won twenty five fucking grammys?

I want to possess Alicia Keys. John Mayer shows up to play and sing and they tear it the fuck up.

Country award. Time for a smoke.

Herbie Hancock with some asian cat playing Rhapsody in Blue. Two pianos, no matter how identical cannot be tuned perfectly simpatico. I live for the dissonance. The orchestra rocks. One of my favorite pieces of music.

Jay-Z is cool.

Amy Winehouse is excellent and the band doesn’t fuck around. No leaks. Air tight.

Natalie Cole is gorgeous but they’re here for Doris Day? Natalie Cole is a handsome woman with whom I’ve spent a little face time. Amy gets the trophy. It’s a very cool song. Natalie has a positively regal presence. You know, in person.

Had to slide out for some cat food. Did I miss anything?

Bocelli and Groban are awesome. Amazing. Who is this Groban guy again?

Jerry Lee Lewis is still alive? I know about this guy. He’s a whack job. I’ve read books. One creepy motherfucker. What the hell is Fogerty doing up there? I hate Creedence.

Little Richard can still sing and play like ringing a bell. Fogerty takes a solo and it doesn’t suck. They thought it would though because they didn’t turn him up. I believe Little Richard to be the gayest black man to ever appear on television. Whatever. He still belts.

will.i.am
Very nice job.

I don’t know. Herbie Hancock getting the big one resonates. And then he says “Yes we can”. They turn the fucking music on. You turned it off for Kanye but you can’t give this guy thirty more seconds? After he just acquitted himself like a rockstar on Rhapsody in Blue?

I recently saw Herbie on Bill Maher. He didn’t really belong there. He’s a class act and he belonged on that stage tonight, reading over the cheesy music because he wanted to thank everybody.

Hey Kanye, I’m just pointing it out.

Interesting. Official brainspank endorsee Barack Obama, beat out Jimmy Carter and Hillary Clinton today in some spoken word category. Um, he prevailed in Maine today as well.

Drinks for my friends.

So, Guy Smiley (Romney) tipped the fuck out the door the other day because he’s just smart enough to grasp the math.

Official brainspank.org endorsee Barack Obama, sails towards the setting sun on this unseasonably warm Southern California Saturday. With aplomb, he breezed through all four contests today. He then spoke in Virginia. This occasion, more time was afforded for policy and some specifics, yet still a performance budding and blooming with optimism.

What exactly does it say about where America’s head is at when this man is able to prevail by margins that range from decisive to ass kicking in states like Kansas, Washington, Louisiana and Nebraska while he falls short in California?

Perhaps we are witnessing the emergence of the neoliberal. Quite a few of them might be pissed off rednecks. A lot of them disenfranchised centrist Democrats. How many alienated moderate Republicans? This is intriguing stuff.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Huckabee is yanking McCain’s chain. Huckabee has a sense of humor. McCain does not. He has trouble scratching his own face.

I need a nickname for our man John. I’m open to suggestion if I don’t come up with one by the end of this blog.

Wait! How about Mrs. Doubtfire?

So, the thing about Huckabee is he showed up on Colbert and played air hockey with a puck shaped like Texas ’cause see, Mike think’s he’s gonna take Texas.

Whatever. Really.

Either way, Huckabee will continue to siphon the bible thumpers away from Doubtfire, our little Bootlicker. We see this as a good thing.

And sorry, McCain will be known as Doubtfire and/or the little Bootlicker. You can still comment with your suggestions.

Texas would be a blow to both Doubtfire and Dumbya. Or rather, the hierarchy. The machine that is the hand up the ass of our esteemed chief executive.

The batteries left in that machine are low on juice.

A once shiny machine.

Doubtfire the Bootlicker, sinks his fingers into a lot of pies but can’t get past his first knuckle in any of them. The pressure on him to bend will force him to fold. He will do just that, like a lawn chair, in the general election. Regardless of who he faces. Trust me.

Doubtfire is a Republican and an assload of Republicans hate the little Bootlicker.

Then, nobody’s talking about Dumbya. At all. He is effectively absent penis.

Absent ballsack.

Gonadless.

Where do you think they went? Not the gonads, the batteries.

In many ways, it’s pretty fucking sick. We are now more than ever, a plutocracy. We still subsidize oil companies with our tax dollars despite them being the richest companies in the history of mankind.

Those batteries are becoming Democrats. Those batteries, that money, are blowing kisses at Mrs. Doubtfire while sticking hands up skirts across the aisle with Democrats.

The damage is done. America has been bent over against it’s ignorant will and cornholed. Ass raped. Violated.

The damage is done.

The economy is a house of cards on a pudding foundation. No hiding from it and no excuses; the Republicans have delivered us here. We are hemorrhaging cash in a pointless and stupid war while our economy and infrastructure atrophy from sheer neglect and not near enough protein.

The distance between rich and poor owns more velocity than the melting of our icecaps.

This is the booby prize they offer McCain. The machine is finished. It has taken it’s prize. We are fucked and the machine has consolidated more power and money than God. The Machine that kicked Doubtfire in the teeth in the year two thousand finally offers up the rotting skin of a once ripe fruit and the Little Bootlicker can’t wait to possess it.

He’s a goddamn circus poodle and he’s the best they’ve got.

They don’t care. They possess what they coveted. The little Bootlicker eyes the brass ring but doesn’t understand that the position is for Chief Executive Janitor

You must be fucking kidding me.

Drinks for my friends.

Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends
We’re so glad you could attend, come inside, come inside
There behind a glass stands a real blade of grass
Be careful as you pass, move along, move along

-Emerson, Lake and Palmer “Karn Evil 9”

They focus on McCain, Romney and Huckabee. There’s an imperative to rescue it from being a foregone conclusion. The Great Unwashed can’t be allowed to lose interest.

I see it as an insipid gameshow mentality.

It will be McCain, because Guy Smiley, in his sacred underwear, is full of shit and although Huckabee seems like a nice guy, any sane motherfucker with a low triple digit IQ, residing on this side of common sense, is scared out of his or her mind that a Southern Baptist Minister could be President.

I mean, I know I am. The leader of the the free world believing that the earth is like, six thousand years old? You have got to be fucking kidding me. This guy is getting a shitload of votes in the The South. Somehow, that’s just not funny in this century.

McCain cannot beat either one of the two Democrats. Half his base loathes him and he has no charisma. That of course means, Romney and Huckabee would fare somewhat worse than hot, low note flatulence in a tornado.

Ann Coulter and Rush Limbaugh have both said they’ll vote for Hillary if McCain gets the nod. To them, he’s just not conservative enough.

Oh boy.

The pendulum, it doth swing with velocity. Not only are Ann and Rush obsolete, they will soon run out of air. Fucktards.

McCain stared and glared at Romney over who was more committed to Iraq when over seventy percent of Americans think that it’s just plain stupid.

Conservatives are dumb and now they’re confused.

People who are both mindless and bewildered tend to be dangerous. They scare me.

Outside it’s America.

Goddamn, the Republicans are in trouble.

Anyway.

A far more interesting contest between Barack and Hillary.

I’m so pleased by the very idea that America is choosing between a black man and a woman for the Democratic nomination.

It does speak volumes about the taste in our mouths. For nearly eight years, the only thing on the spoon has been shit. Stupid, mindless, neoconservative shit. Imagine shit with tar and rotting raisins. Oh, and pepper. Not the good kind, but the kind with no flavor and just heat. And to drink? Your choice of bleach or Woolite.

Democrats are not always better, yet this choice makes me smile.

America stands on the verge of electing a much needed Democratic President. The slow and stupid will just have to piss up a rope for at least four years.

Life is beautiful.

I’m pulling for the black guy who’s last name rhymes with Osama. The guy who’s middle name is Hussein.

He is smart. He is willfull. He is change.

I think.

I hope.

Among other glistening trophies, he took Kansas and North Dakota last night. Kansas. Can you say Brown v. The Board of Education? Um, wow. I ask myself, as one must, does this mean these people are more afraid of a white woman than a black man? Or is it evidence of an intellectual honesty in America that we have not seen before?

We’ll see, to behold the latter would be resplendent indeed.

For now, it’s a dead heat between two left minded champions of what is right. This is healthy. The dialog and discourse will be richer and we will all benefit.

The Democratic turnout will carry the general, particularly with a Republican party so divided. Right wing Christians have abandoned the filthy corporate lucre. Hypocrite despising hypocrite. Excellent.

Next time you see a neoconservative dipshit Republican, do him a favor and pluck one of the forks from his mottled ass and give him your change.

Then, hit him in the mouth as hard as you can to celebrate his fall from grace.

Drinks for my friends.

I’m impressed by perfection. Perfection is awesome. Perfection is never enduring, however. Never consistent. Michael Jordan was perfect for a time. So was Stevie Ray Vaughn. Then, there was NASA in the late sixties. They made it to the moon on slide rules.

Yet it never lasts. It’s impossible.

I adore an underdog. I’m enamored of the unlikely.

I’m not emotionally invested in any sporting contest or team. I really can’t muster the enthusiasm. But, I’d been thinking about this Superbowl and the underdog. I found myself with little to do this afternoon, so I tuned in about half way through the first quarter.

Needless to say, it was about as interesting as these things get. I was rewarded with a win by the underdog. Cool. Glad I watched.

The analogy may be a little weak, but I’ll make it anyway. A far more more important contest is playing out in America. With any luck, Barack Obama will face the Republican nominee (most likely McCain) in a contest for titular leader of the free world.

If this comes to pass, it’s possible that the underdog will have already prevailed in the most important battle he faces. He will have bested Hillary Clinton for the Democratic nomination.

I’ve been saying for nearly a year that what America needs is as much change as she can get. I own this. To me, it is a fact. Barack Obama represents the very most change for which we can realistically hope.

There were other contestants that I liked better. But honestly, not by much. I didn’t think this man had a chance, but I’m happy he’s here. I’m happy I was wrong. Very happy.

For what it’s worth, I’m not so full of myself as to estimate what I’m about to say will have anything but the most negligible concussion on The Great Unwashed.

I remain however, undaunted.

The first ever brainspank.org endorsement goes to Barack Obama for President of The United States of America.

I do this because I believe him to be a good man. He is smart and inspired. He talks sense.

I don’t know exactly how tough he is, yet he will need to be the world’s toughest man. I’m not sure how smart he is and he will have to be one of the smartest.

I hope at how principled he is. I can only guess at his strength.

Casting a vote is always hanging your ass in the wind. Because of that, you should always do the best you can. Pay attention. Be informed. Try not to be a jackass and if you are, abstain. If you don’t know shit about a proposition or a bond, for fuck’s sake leave it blank.

Obama is a different matter. You should let your mind go blank and trust me on this one. He is the best shot we’ve got. He is brave and razor sharp. If we can just get him there, he will rattle some cages. At the same time, the world will exhale in relief.

If we end up with McCain, the world will have a simultaneous sphincter pucker on a scale that could result in giant sand storms and possibly some heightened tidal activity.

On top of that, we’ll all be kinda bummed about having an old man in office that is incapable of combing his own hair. I hear he’s pretty grumpy. Imagine what four years will do to this poor bastard. He’ll be in the corner sniffing glue before it’s over.

Nope, we need fresh flesh and our man Obama is young. One thing even the most neoconservative diamond crapping old rich white man can’t deny is his PASSION.

It was a good field this time and for that I’m grateful. Any of them would have been better than any of The
Blackhats.

I want this man to be my President.

I’m serious. I believe what he has shown me so far is who and what he is and like what I see.

Drinks for my friends.

I know there were two major debates this week. One was particularly contentious and the other quite conviviial. What. Ever. Sorry. What follows is what I felt like writing about.

BITCHES:

The Gotohells, minus Gene Gene the Dancing Machine and Timmy the worlds happiest bass player, picked us up at the airport in Tampa.

The humid South engulfed my head the second we stepped outside.

Edo and Hunter.

Edo: Guitar and lead vocals.
Hunter: Drums, backup vocals and one lead vocal. Last song. Good song. Shitty vocal.

I think I’d met Edo, but Hunter and I were old friends at that point. Hunter played drums, sang and was a human holiday on the very first record Al & I ever produced, recorded and mixed. “Punkrockacademyfightsong” – Down By Law -Epitaph.

Hunter, maybe a buck twenty five soaking wet, played so hard, he took chunks out of cymbals. It wasn’t unusual for us to change snare heads after just two or three takes. Jacked up grill and losing his hair at twenty one. He could drink and he could hold his liquor. He did an hysterical impersonation of Johnny Thunders. Brutally funny, painfully bright and consistently, unapologetically, honest. Character and integrity for weeks.

I fucking loved him. Whenever he was in town he’d leave a message with the receptionist at the studio. Always the same. “Plate of Shrimp” and a number where he could be reached.

Then we’d go drinking.

There was a twelve pack of cold Bud Talls on the floorboard of the backseat. I had a couple.

They took us straight to the original Hooters. Then to a nice little motel off the highway for the first few days of our stay and rehearsals. It was a very magnanimous gesture on the part of four broke ass cracker redneck musician punks.

Rehearsals were rainy, dark and smelly.

Al and I would couch surf after that ’til the record was done.

At first, we were accomodated by Edo and a guy named Sticky, who Hunter confessed he’d take a bullet for. I had some really stupid shoes on and Sticky asked me through a nicotine stained smile if I’d made them in wood shop. I kinda liked Sticky but I don’t think he liked me.

Given his fragile constitution, Al was pretty much sick the whole time.

Picture Al, Alex, as a young and thin Dustin Hoffman.

In retrospect it’s kinda comical, but I was concerned. Al had some form of bronchitis and Sticky and Edo were content to chainsmoke Marlboros in the same room he was desperately trying to sleep in.

We also stayed with Timmy and his unbelievably happy family. We came and went at very odd hours, often drunk. We preferred Timmy’s house to that of Edo and Sticky because there were no chainsmokers and there were teenage girls, sometimes food and coffee, if you got up in time.

Hunter shared with me that it was a bad day indeed if Timmy wasn’t smiling.

There were other reasons we liked staying with Timmy’s family better.

Timmy had an excellent selection of movies along with a shit hot media setup for the time. There was the beautiful saltwater aquarium that lent tranquility to our slumber after long days in the studio and long nights drinking. Someone always had pot, Edo I think.

Timmy was a big boy, wore thick glasses and chewed tobacco. He was a terrible bass player.

We made the record in a studio called Panda. George, the owner was spindly, tall and angular. Very gracious and accommodating. He had that eighties ponytail through the back of the baseball cap thing going on and long fingers in perpetual motion. Very funny, very helpful and completely unselfconscious with his intrigue at our recording techniques and methodology.

George spent most of his time on a beat to shit couch in the back of the control room reading a book by George Carlin. He’d spew laughter and read out loud.

One of the first things that is consciously forced down your throat in life is the concept of not throwing things, especially at other people. I have to tell you, I threw a lot of things, mostly those fat Sharpies, at a lot of people back then. Sorry about that Sam.

Anyway, was his sidekick named Charlie? I think so. Charlie kept the band awash in beer and they consumed it in copious amounts. The record brought to you as much by Budweiser as by me & Al and the band.

Funny when I think about it. The band would drink all day. Al and I rarely touched more than caffeine while in a control room. The brisk clip of an eight hour day was foreign to all of us. Making records is ponderous, repetetive, intensley creative and often maddening.

Recording, documenting and then rendering music actually, is typically a twelve to fifteen hour day. It just is what it is.

At one point, consensus was reached to start the sessions earlier; reason being to get enough done to allow an hour or two before closing time to get our drink on.

I recall it being a bit of a challenge.

On the way to the studio every morning I gawked at the clusterfuck that accompanied the latest Virgin Mary phenomena. About a year before, the redneck faithful of Clearwater Florida had discovered what they believed to be the divine image of her in the reflective glass of an office building just off the interstate. The bleachers and folding chairs were filled by the hundreds every morning to stare in awe at what looked to me to be a warped window with an oilslick on it.

It was an unspoken rule that wherever and whenever Lynyrd Skynyrd could be heard, all four members of the band would remove their hats in a maneuver that struck me as not unlike synchronized swimming.

Tampa/Orlando is the lightning capital of the entire planet and we were there for the season. Late spring. Crazy. Power outages and just plain fear of electrocution forced us out of the studio a handful of times. We hung out in the parking lot, smoking and drinking beer in the warm rain.

One morning in Madison Wisconsin, me and a band called Everclear watched the clouds rotate in the sky over the studio like in some Bradbury novel. Smart Studios. Butch Vig.

Marie Osmond caught an eyeful of our roadie’s penis that day and then bounced off a glass door, but that’s another story.

We knocked off early that night.

I had a suite overlooking the state capitol building. I turned off the lights, cracked open a beer from the mini bar and watched the most spectacular light show I might ever see. Huge bolts. Not just white, but pink and blue, as they hammered the golden dome of the state capitol building.

Next morning we discovered a pair of Neve 1073’s with all the knobs melted into a puddle. Kinda sucked because one was for the vocal and the other for rhythm guitar.

Recording studios are magnets for any atmospheric discharge.

There’s no Waffle Houses in LA. I coveted cheese eggs, raisin toast and grits when I studied engineering in Atlanta. Waffle House is where I ate when I had money. Not often.

I told Hunter and he made sure we ate there a handful of times, including the morning after the last mix before they took us to the airport and after working all night. He pointed out various oddities of Waffle House protocol. The specific spot the middle aged rubenesque waitress stood to shout orders to the kitchen, for example.

Still a vegetarian back then, I loved it when the matronly woman taking my order would inevitably ask, “Honey, you don’t want any meat with that?”.

Hunter stole laminated menus for me that morning. Stuffed them under his shirt. I still have them.

Nothing mattered that day. We’d finished a record and the sun was shining. I could have punched the sky.

There was even time for a nap.

I called The Fish from a pay phone in the airport to tell her when I was landing in LA. Angry and in tears, she’d been all over LAX the night before looking for me. I had given her the wrong date. There was a schedule adjustment half way through the record because we knew we’d need an extra day. I’d forgotten to tell her.

I’m not sure I’ve ever felt that kind of bad. At the time I was furiously in love with this woman and I had just made the worst mistake a man can make. I had, however briefly, forgotten about her. I’d crawled into my head in the company of men while making a record, and forgotten about home completely.

I was still in that head when dialing the phone.

After that conversation, despite the damage I had wrought, I couldn’t wait to come home.

We made a very good record. I’m proud of it. No samples or technological fuckery. What you hear is what they played. I’ve been listening to it lately and it makes me smile. It rocks.

The band is The Gotohells. The record is Burning Bridges. The label is Vagrant.

Drinks for my friends.

Those of you that have been reading me for awhile, may recall that my take on the last State of The Union was titled “No babies in garbage disposals”. A not so subtle nod towards the populist pablum. Tonight was more of the same.

He still insisted on mispronouncing ‘nuclear’ six or seven times and stubbornly whipped the deceased equine carcass of social security, or “entitlements” in the euphemistic vernacular of the neocons. Fuck that. Social Security is not an entitlement. We pay in when we are young, it pays out when we are old.

More pointless and baseless saber rattling at Iran. Way Too many Democrats hauling asses out of seats for this particular round of applause. Sheezus.

I feel like an eight year old. I was bored and really, I just don’t give a mad fuck what Dumbya has to say anymore. He may still be dangerous, but his irrelavance metastasizes by the hour.

I found more intrinsic entertainment in the shifts of smirk Cheney wore behind Dumbya’s right shoulder. I was amused by the Republican lockstep of standing ovations.

C’mon you pinheads, you’ve got be fucking kidding me.

Perhaps it’s irresponsible and lazy, but to counter the address point by point would be futile and didactic. If you don’t realize how full of shit he is by now, you never will. Like I said, I just don’t care.

On a far more interesting note, Obama collected the endorsement of Senator Ted Kennedy as well as a glowing op-ed in the New York Times yesterday titled “A President Like My Father” written by Caroline Kennedy, daughter of JFK, in case you didn’t know. Now this, is heavy.

The momentum that Obama is gathering is formidable. Although still very early, it is of a brand that could thwart the Clinton Machine. Wow. A certain degree of credit goes to Barack himself. He’s demonstrated a not so simple grace in allowing the Clintons to make themselves look bad. Zen judo. Awesome.

Time to take a walk John. Don’t go too far.

Goddamn Super Tuesday will roar at us I hope.

Drinks for my friends.

60 Minutes has been the best show on network television for a lot longer than I can remember.

My least favorite crew member has always been Scott Pelley. Ever since he clumsily hammered Ahmadinejad when he visited last year, my disdain for him has swollen. He lacks suspension of disbelief. Seems like a dipshit sometimes.

I like that Anderson Cooper has joined. I’m thinking he should be Crew Chief of The Month. Brass rectangle added to the plaque and all.

I miss Ed Bradley. He was the coolest.

I realize that Pelley was probably put up to it by some CBS swine executive for mere schadenfreude. I still loathe him for it. It was dishonest on a global level.

Anyway, Prick JR. parked one tonight with his interview of George Piro. Mr. Piro was our government’s lead interrogator of Saddam Hussein. Absolutely compelling and fascinating. Enough for me to realize I was mouth breathing. What a coup for The Columbia Broadcasting System.

It was excellent TV; that’s all I’m saying.

Now. As you now know, Mr Obama prevailed spectacularly in South Carolina last night. My skirt is lifted by this gust of change.

I said early on that a black man with a last name that rhymes with Osama and a middle name that is Hussein, has virtually no chance of being President of The United States of America. I said that because I believed America to be sicker than she was.

I’m happy to be wrong. Very happy to be wrong.

There is a very tangible possibility that America will soon have it’s first Black President. I’m excited about this because it may just mean that American heads and hearts aren’t where I thought they were. Could it be these dark days were catalyst enough for some general epiphany?

Could this just be the right man for the right time?

I am happy to be wrong.

Let me just say this. We know know that MLK wasn’t perfect and JFK was barely able to maintain orbit. Then there’s Big Bad Bill. Bill was not your run of the mill house afire. I don’t give a mad fuck about that kinda shit.

I am concerned about Barack’s potential for efficacy. I’m not concerned about Hillary’s. She’ll get shit done. I worry about just how and where and what, however.

I digress. I am pleased and excited. Good stuff going on in America and I’m confident it’s indicative of an improving state of mind and over all better mental health.

Every effort has been made to slam our minds shut for the better part of eight years and a great many succumbed. Despite all that, we seem to be waking. Minds seem to be opening.

This man Obama can certainly be the wind to blow piss back into the faces of the complacent, apathetic and ignorant. The greedy and the powerful.

Make no mistake, if America elects this man, the entire world will exhale and relax a little. They will. That’s what I’m talking about.

I can’t know how well he would govern us. But he is smart, wise and confident. I am impressed. He is as real as they get on a stage so elevated.

For what it’s worth, George W. Bush is real too, he’s just really stupid.

Drinks for my friends.

It’s all over but the shouting in South Carolina. Obama has beaten Hillary and Edwards like a pair of baby seals.

He did this by amassing over fifty percent of the vote. The demographic sweep he engineered is beyond impressive. South Carolina is over sixty seven percent white and the home state of John Edwards, who finished a distant third. It was a record turnout.

More than double Hillary’s pot and obviously, more than both Edwards and Hillary combined.

He speaks like a summer thunderstorm. A cloudburst on a sweltering afternoon. Substance and style. Grace and conviction. Thunder and lightning. His admonition of Hillary, subtlety and gravity.

It’s kind of ironic that while I was thinking that even if Obama succeeded at elevating only minorities and the poor, America would be a far better place. It’s ironic, because it was the same moment he segued into passionate discourse about unity and the fractures that exist between us, that either aren’t there or don’t need to be. All of us.

ALL OF US.

I am smiling. Were it not for the breathtaking ineptness, avarice and arrogance of the current administration and the Republican party, America would never grant audience to this first ever contest between a black man and a woman for President of The United States.

Forgive me, but hope doesn’t appear so audacious any more. It’s been a long time coming. We have endured too many years of cruelty and apathy at the hands of Republican rulers. Maybe now, instead of the lesser of two evils, America will choose the better of the best.

Oh boy.

Eighty percent of African Americans in SC voted for Obama. I still really like Edwards, but I fear it may be time for him to walk. Seventy three percent of Democrats who cast a vote tonight, did so against Hillary. This, in one of only three states with a greater than twenty percent population of black voters. Do the math, Obama desperately needs white Democrats on February Five.

Edwards says he’s still got lotsa fight left. We’ll see.

Obama and Edwards? I’d like that a lot.

Bill Bennett, asshat that he is, just compared Obama’s speech to Ronald Reagan. What a fucking retard. It occurs to me that Martin Luther King is a far more appropriate and accurate analog. Or, can you say JFK?

Amy Holmes, conservative whackjob that she is, is hotter than Georgia asphalt. I’d do her. She was on Bill Maher last night and I had an identical thought. Michelle O. has hips and a booty.

Meanwhile, on the darkside, Skeletor sports a giant mudhole in his ass that will be kicked dry by Guy Smiley and John McCain in Florida. Time to start looking for a rock with a vacancy underneath, Mr. Julie Rudyiani. Douchebag.

Up next, Super Tuesday. The road, still long indeed.

Drinks for my friends.

They focus on McCain and Romney and Huckabee. Somehow they need to save it from being a forgone conclusion. Probably just to hold interest.

Idiots.

It will be McCain, because Guy Smiley is full of shit and Huckabee seems like a nice guy but any sane motherfucker between here and common sense is scared out of his or her mind that a Southern Baptist Minister could be President.

I mean, I know I am. The leader of the the free world believing that the earth is like, six thousand years old? You have got to be fucking kidding me. This guy is getting a shitload of votes.

Outside it’s America.

Goddamn, the Republicans are in trouble.

Anyway.

A far more interesting contest between Barack and Hillary.

I’m so pleased by the very idea that America is choosing between a black man and a woman for the Democratic nomination.

It does speak volumes about the taste in our mouths. For nearly eight years, the only thing on the spoon has been shit. Stupid mindless Republican shit. Imagine shit with tar and rotting raisins.

The Democrats not always better but I’m happy to have this choice.

America is about to recieve a much needed Democratic President, so fuck off.

Drinks for my friends.

I just need to talk about a few things here.

First up, this retarded stimulus package Republicans and Democrats alike are toothlessly masticating each other’s genitals over. Six hundred dollars (!) for each of us grossing less than seventy five thousand a year.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

What they’re hoping is, we’ll go out and blow that magnanimous sum and the economy will just explode and all will be sunshine and rainbows.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

That’s the plan?

I’m insulted.

Six hundred bucks buys me about three hours in a Vegas titty bar with a couple of clients. Brilliant.

Or, I could score just enough booze and blow to rationalize hiring a hooker, likely succumb to whiskey dick and the subsequent ego deflation that accompanies losing one’s wood and/or never achieving it to begin with.

As a Southern California resident, were I to earmark said funds for more pragmatic utilization, it would mitigate approximately a third of my monthly rent. Less than that of a mortgage note or a month’s payment on a decent car.

Republicans and Democrats have reached out to each other for your benefit and are now offering a medium size self adhering gauze bandage for your middle class ass hemorrhage. The bastards of the beltway are powerful sorry about the diabetes they gave you and would like for you to have a cookie.

I understand the proposal also provides for “business incentives”.

I really hate these guys.

Apparently, while we spend over half a million a minute in Iraq, fiscal conservatives are wringing their sweaty hands over what this may do to the budget deficit.

Thank Jesus someone is watching the foxes play with the hens.

On a profoundly sad note, my favorite little paste eater announced he was leaving the circus today. How sad that the roaring mouse has thrown in the towel. The ONLY one with the courage, integrity and honesty to speak the truth consisitently about where we are and what we must do, is left with no choice but to save his congressional seat so that he may fight again to effect desperately needed change another day. May the powers that exist, forever favor you Mr. Dennis Kucinich. Many of us will miss your valuable contribution to what is obviously the most important political discourse thus far for all of us.

Next. From this blog on January nine:

“The Bill & Hillary machine is awesome, however. What we saw was that impressive apparatus in swift and purposeful motion at the bottom of the ninth in the second game of seven. Very impressive.

Here they come. I told ya.”

And from this blog on January four:

“I’ve alluded to to the Clintonian acumen for brawling. You’re about to see a full frontal and it will most likely get ugly. We’re about to witness how smart she really is. I can’t help but think that if she starts tossing turds, she’ll be courting the dirt nap.

Fascinating to watch Bill’s big brain churning behind his eyes as he stood to her left while she spoke. I found myself waiting for steam to to rocket from every orifice in his head.

She tossed not a single turd.”

It’s true, Bill Clinton, a man whom I celebrate and adore, needs to count to ten. I won’t address this specifically except to to say that policy is what is is germane here. That, and desperation is almost always ugly.

Last but not least, Hillary and McCain won the nod from The New York Times today. The NYT said this about Skeletor, who is fighting for third in Florida:

“The New York paper said it could not endorse Giuliani, describing the city’s former mayor as a “narrow, obsessively secretive, vindictive man” whose “arrogance and bad judgment are breathtaking.”

Ha!

Drinks for my friends.

Today Obama proposed a tax cut and that’s a spectacularly dumb idea.
In all fairness, he did propose some much needed reforms as well as shifts in policy and ideology. He did speak to the widening income gap and therefore, simultaneous atrophy of the middle class and concentration of wealth in America right goddamn now.
But, we’ve got a whole fucking city down south that is now merely a study in compassionless governmental inept broke ass dipshitedness.
And this war is not only shamefully stupid but very expensive. Russia fell because they ran out of money. Russia crawled away from Afghanistan because the coffers were about echo, long since about ring. A radioactive water supply, shit loads of nukes and nuke fuel unaccounted for……………and Putin overtly tightens his grip.
He pretty much fired everybody and took his ball home this week.
By the way, Russia is back.
And this time we’re broke.
Then we have the housing bust, it looked to me more like a soft skull implosion, and the inevitable subprime conflagration. Greenspan maintains he missed that one. I doubt that.
Then there’s the extraordinarily ominous notion that China owns a massive chunk of our asses.
Tax cuts are a really bad idea. Simply because the best we could hope for, were Barack to prevail, is a symbolic cut in taxes to the poor and middle class and no reform at all.
Well, and because it’s a really stupid idea from every other angle as well. The Republicans tried the tax cut tango and by virtue of smoke and mirrors, murder and lasers, fucked every one but the rich.
What we need, is those proposed reforms and re-prioritizing. Repeal the Dick-in-Bush fuckery and close the damn loopholes. You know, the ones that make it free to do business offshore?
We really need to pull an assload of troops out of Iraq as our very first DIPLOMATIC move. While we’re doing that we need to start making some goddamn friends in the neighborhood for once.
We don’t need no fucking tax cuts Mr. Obama. Your move may be a shallow populist grab for the great unwashed because your fellow Donkey/steeds are bustin a nut over healthcare, while you and Hills are on the big pharma tit like no other whorse on the grounds.
Or you may be sincere. I don’t care. Bad form. Gamesmanship: Zero.
I’m simply using you as example Mr. Obama, an example of underestimating what we want and what we know is needed. We have whales to fry. Now is no time to make decreasing revenue an empty priority.
I don’t dislike you, so I’m hoping you do better.
By the way, Stewart and Greenspan tonight was a Frazetta painting of two genuine big brained geeks riffing. It rocked my taint.
Drinks for my friends.