Wednesday, February 28, 2007

go cheney yourself... !

Glenn Greenwald in Salon:
"It is only a matter of time before Brit Hume and Matt Drudge begin hyping the scandal of how liberal bloggers were expressing dismay that Dick Cheney wasn't killed"...
and they'd be right...
... "and Howard Kurtz will write a drooling profile of the Blogging Warriors who exposed this scandal and join in with stern condemnation over how terrible it is that the Left is so filled with venom and rage. Maybe ABC News' Terry Moran can even join his right-wing-blogging brother again and chime in about all the terrible Hate Speech on the Left.
I'm sorry but we are talking about a war criminal, aren't we?

What, are we now supposed to reintroduce due process? Cuff him at the Naval Observatory and frog-march his wretched ass for an historic perp walk?

Why not render it to Camp X-Ray; or given his presumed station, the Hague?

America's Ratko Mladich, the fuck, to Dubya's Milosevich...

I'm beyond irony.

They're beyond irony.

The whole trial's out of order!!

Monday, February 26, 2007

there y'go...

Rode the rail this morning, the commuter from Westborough to South Station. Had to endure a woman across the way; she, overly attentive to fixing her face better done up had she gotten up an hour earlier. I mean, is it proper to "tweeze" yourself silly for 20 minutes while the rest of us are trying to snooze but cannot for the churning of our respective stomachs?

Do I know what I'm talking about? Well, the G&Ts certainly do.

A long day indeed, and one of the sorts renting space is at the Bruins now, and thus am I made to wait before slumber this good night.



Well, too bad!!

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

cheney on mccain...

... both figuratively and literally:
I just fundamentally disagree with John. John said some nasty things about me the other day, and then next time he saw me, ran over to me and apologized. Maybe he'll apologize to Rumsfeld.
Uh huh, ran over, flopped down on both knees, unbuckled the VPs belt, unsnapped his pants, unzipped his fly, rifled through his shorts, and whereupon Cheney grabbed the AZ senator by both ears and slammed hard into his moosh.

Just what we all want in our next president.

ash wednesday's child: full of woe... ?

Somewhere between a quarter and a third of the Bostonians wandering the streets today wore schmutz on their foreheads. And from where I could see, all of that stuff could only be derived from fossil fuels. Meanwhile, I was made to wonder whether it depended on the diocese that determined the level of viscocity one sported on his or her frontal lobes -- the difference, say, between being reverently observent and merely sitting still for another one of Father Bernard's messier fondlings.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

and with it came madness...

I never watched American Idol before I came up here. Now I'm saturated by it and with its oficianados, they from Day 1/Season 1; hooked by the Sturm and the Drang and Simon's brittle distemper, although greatly relieved am I for having missed Taylor Hicks' queer little way.

One man's family.

if the guy's name was bogart, would that get him off the "intent to distribute" rap... ?

Driver Caught With 569 Pounds of Pot

Sunday, February 18, 2007

pioneer valley days...

Dateline: Shrewsbury...

The coffee is brewing and I'm underslept. Fortunately today's Sunday and that's easily remedied.

Spent a fine yesterday afternoon in Amherst, or, more specifically, on campus. Starting point, of course, at the campus center (why not, it's next to the parking garage), where, through all the bustle on a typically busy day, I could have... and probably should have... pitched a tent in some corner for all the time spent over the four-plus years I was matriculated.

So little has changed and yet it's somehow different; a next-generation/alternative universe vibe, or something.

The Coffee Shop is now *gag* "The Pita Pit" (somebody apparently having overdosed on 90210 or something); the University Store is now jizzed up with the most recent and now unremarkable "UMass" logo. I wanted to get a maroon sweatshirt reading "Massachusetts" across the front but it was all "UMass" or "UMass Amherst" wear, and I was made to remember a letter to the Daily Collegian I had published freshman year when I argued the school, as was "Virginia" or "Michigan," say, should be referred to as "Massachusetts" and not be dismissed with the more facile "UMass," while encouraging its bastardized "party school" appelation "Zoo-Mass."

And we can all see how well that flew, eh?

The Blue Wall's still there. Back in the day, they went back and forth from being an ice cream flinger to a friday nite beer banger. I suppose that corresponded to the drinking age slinkying between 18 and 21. The doors were open but the establishment was closed as was most of the campus, such that I wondered if the school was not in session. It was, but more people go away on the weekends here than I seem to remember.

I took the escalator down to the basement level, an area where I recall watching entirely too much television. Basken will be pleased to know The Collegian's offices are still there, right across from my favorite of favored haunts, the insularly intimate studios of WMUA radio. I am pleased to report that not a thing has changed there; wall2wall & ceiling2floor stacks of record albums, and I do mean vinyl -- still there. I have had strange and wonderous dreams about this place, haven for my solace.

I made the acquaintance of a radio showhost and his daughter, Mitch & Jen; the two just finishing their Saturday afternoon polka program, one with which he'd been regular since when I was still doing news and sports there -- in the 80s ferchryeye. Curiously, I didn't remember him. Lovely people though.

I wandered to the Student Union. Nearly everything and every office was unchanged. The Hatch was still the Hatch. The billiard room, arts and crafts, etc., were still what they were. Oh, the video arcade had a completely different inventory of machines than as I had once subsidized. (Sigh, how I do miss my Asteroids.)

Upstairs, the credit union was moved, but the Student Union Ballroom, where I saw speak, among many, Alger Hiss and Tip O'Neill, and particularly a memorable debate between Phyllis Schaffley and then NOW president Judy Goldsmith, was still there. The Cape Cod lounge, a favorite study & snooze haunt, was still there; the mini-store, and the Earthfoods, where I learned I could eat macro-biotically and not die from hunger or boredom.

Hunh! Never thought I'd be wistful for hairy-legged Earthbabes in birkenstocks and nose-rings. Oh, to be young again now that spring is . . . a month away.

I wandered outside. There was Machmer, just like it useta be. But then I didn't really expect the buildings themselves to change much. Machmer was my most frequented as it contained the Communications department, my preferred (and degreed, thank you very much) course of study. Heading south, there was Thompson Hall, where, Naahm will be interested, I took a semester of Con Law, dubbed "Civil Liberties." Still have the book of cases: Griswald v. Connecticut, Mapp v. Ohio, Bowers v. Hardwick, Marbury v. Madison, etc.

Walked into Goodell Library. Oh, did I tell you yet, the buildings were closed and the campus was nearly deserted? The only real disappointment. If it wasn't for the weather, I'd've thought it was summer for all the quietude. Anyway, Goodell was closed but it was unlocked. And so I went in. I have fond memories of Goodell. Where a certain sweet someone and I found a discreet quiet area for a little... oh, uhm... nevermind! Suffice it to say I made friends on campus.

Back outside, there was South College, where all the band geeks practiced; Bartlett, where I enjoyed my Lit and English classes; Herter, where I flunked many a French class. Boyden gym in the distance and the more recently named Garber Field, where the nat'l runner-up lacrosse team was having a practice (Come to think of it, along with the football team it's looking these days like we're always a bridesmaid and never a bride); Curry Hicks, and its immortal "The Cage," where the hoop teams (anybody remember a man named Julius Erving?) played before they built the Mullins Center, and where I tried out for the freshman baseball team back in spring '81 and didn't make the cut.

Erg! Whitmore, the admin building. Where I begged, borrowed and stole from various bureaucratic sorts, where I set a record for giving away highlighters while dressed as a ROTC cadet, and where, while I think of my days in ROTC, off the roof of which I rappelled.

I wandered past Whitmore and down the hill. There was the ROTC building. How many anecdotes do I have in there, I wondered. I deliberated going in to check, but turned around instead and headed back to the Campus Center. (Sorry, SouthWesties, I was Orchard Hill.)

Megan had returned my call. I had phoned her earlier to see if she was up for a late afternoon drink. She was. Sweet!

I drove to Northampton and we met outside Fitzwilly's. I knew the place well, having worked there for all of two weeks in '87 as a host. I was doing okay but then the powers-that-be brought in some newly minted and overzealous assistant manager barely removed from delivering papers, who, with his style of micro-management, got up my wazoo, ergo the shortened tenure. Stuff happens. Still a great hangout.

When Meg arrived, we deliberated our options and decided to go over to Wiggins Tavern in the Hotel Northampton. We shared a terrific bottle of Cabernet, some stuffed mushrooms and a shrimp cocktail (note to non-New Englanders: the best seafood in the world is reserved for the natives). She added a salad while I had the Lobster Bisque. And as the Paul Simon song goes, we laughed about some old times (though we drank ourselves no beers), still crazy after all these years.

Later that evening, Meg went home and I popped in to Fitzy's. What the heck, it was only 9 o'clock and it was Saturday night.

And, my, but the women get younger and more beautiful every year here.

Saturday, February 17, 2007

maher('s) rules...

New rules:

Chris Dodd must tell the religious right to take their abstinence programs and go back to Hymentown.

John Edwards must be caught hiring an illegal alien to wash his hair.

Sam Brownback must be caught having sex with his wife that is not for procreational purposes.

Hillary Clinton must mispronounce South Carolina "Mouth Vagina."

Barack Obama must tell people he's, quote, "bigger than Jesus."

Rudy Giuliani has to declare at a press conference that he's cheating on his wife, but it's ok because he's undergoing cancer treatment and he can't get an erection anyway. He did?

John McCain must be caught with a Filipino bar girl with an Adam's apple.

jeez, how many different ways can i play this... ?

Bush has two moles removed

Howww abouuuuuut... Did they get the one with the ears?

Thursday, February 15, 2007

beans, beans...

i don't think i remember the hub being this freakin' cold... evah... !

riding the commuter rail from wuhstah is slow-goin' when trundlin' through snow covered streets just to get to the station...

love the snooze into south station though...

getting used to sky-scrapers again, half-amused by the 11 a.m. window of sunshine that disappears again for the day at 11:37...

check out the fahmahs' almanac, boston's windier'n chicago (and i don't mean because of ted kennedy necessarily)...

so i passed the interview today, kids...

getting called back for a "live" audition monday...

i've been vieing for this market since high school, back in the days of bell-bottoms, bee gees & el tiante...

wish me loads...


Tuesday, February 13, 2007

proof positive that i went back to school 20 years too soon...

UMass professor gets boost in bid to grow marijuana for research
But officials at the American Civil Liberties Union hope that the recommendation to grant the application of UMass-Amherst Professor Lyle Craker will lead to more research into the use of marijuana for medicinal purposes.
Just another post so Naahm & Spared can continue to go at each other like some latter day Sam & Diane. The cup runneth over on the last'n.

Friday, February 09, 2007

impeach you... !

Ol' Naahm in Philly might seem bent on the letter of the law, while dismissing the spirit of same, as being the minimum justification for impeaching rat bastards who might invade sovereign nations, whether they have dictators making the trains run on time or not, but I wonder what he would think of one Republican Congressman's standards:
"Now, I tell you, Mr. President, if these men -- especially after this assault -- are murdered in prison, or if one of them lose their lives, there's going to be some kind of impeachment talk in Capitol Hill," Rohrabacher said.
Maybe Naahm can also weigh in on whether a formal call of impeachment can be joined for disparate reasons, e.g., if a President doesn't pardon border guards, who apparently shot an alleged drug-smuggling Mexican in the back, as a cause for starting proceedings, then it getting piggy-backed with war crimes indictments against Dubya and his coterie; never mind the absolutely twisted priorities of Dana Rorabacher, championing two murderers while all hell breaks loose, due to Republican malfeasance, around the world.

Or to put it more simply, and as the Bumper Sticker of the Day inquires: "Can't somebody please give this president a blow job?"

Thursday, February 08, 2007


Dunno why the symmetry holds here, but '07 would be, like, a harmonic convergence if Al Gore decided to run for that for which Hillary lusts, just as Roger Clemens decided to close the circle, in order to remain unbroken (by and by), and pitch for the hose after all.

That is all.

word of the day...

meg-a-lo-ma-ni-a / ,megelo'mania /
obsession with the exercise of power, esp. in the domination of others.
*delusion about one's own power or importance (typically as a sympton of manic or paranoid disorder).

meg-a-lo-ma-nic / 'manik / adjective

whooooo coulditbeeeeee... ??

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

scandal in bohemia...

plural noun ( sing vis-cus /vis-kes )
the internal organs in the main cavities of the body, esp. those in the abdomen, e.g., the intestines.

of or relating to the viscera : the visceral nervous system.
- relating to deep inward feelings rather than to the intellect...

And those were the words that occurred as I listened at the Weathervane in Brattleboro Saturday night to this kick-ass little band from Keene, New Hampshire: Scandal in Bohemia.

Bear with me, I will never work for Rolling Stone as my musical knowledge is limited to catching up with the pop culture roughly ten years later: The Beatles in the 70s, Steve Miller in the 80s, Tears for Fears in the 90s. Right now I still groove on The Cure, and I hear this chick Alannis Morrisette has more than one Jagged Little Pill.

So my trip4good north is already paying dividends. Scandal in Bohemia has been around for two years. And it was only at the behest of Elder Brother that I got a chance out of the blue to give a listen to lead singer Seth Chatfield's plaintiff wailings in perfect symmetry to the wowwas & hawangs of Kalev Virks' guitar; the beatdown coming by way of Tim Mogavero's dead-on percussion even as Jen Mavris injected a moody undertone, with a touch of anger, on base.

Kalev dubs it "Art/Noise Rock," although the others, with no alternative label to apply, sort of shook their heads at that. And in retrospect, and having given a listen to the last CD they had that night, I kept hearing a little of...

The Cars... ?

Hmm, the Sex Pistols... ?

Is that... ? The Talking Heads... ?

Oh screw that nonsense! Here's what they have to say:
QOTSA, Sonic Youth, Pixies, Clash, Nirvana, The Kinks, Archers of Loaf, Sebadoh, Talking Heads, Guided by Voices, Joy Division, Dinosaur jr., Mission of Burma, At The Drive-In, Bauhaus, The Wipers, Herb Alpert and the Tiajuana Brass Band (great album covers)

Sounds Like
cyborg warfare in the space within your mind while falling out of a 27-story building into a pool of cold water filled with electric a good way
Okayyyy! I did catch The Talking Heads.

Ah, well, wish that I could wax eloquent on the impact these youngsters had on my psyche or, more appropriately, my abdomen (aye, a long winter already) but I can only summarize viscerally:

Scandal in Bohemia fucking rocks!

Check out their website.

Monday, February 05, 2007

like, brr, dude... says it's 13 degrees in this neck of the woods, but with wind-chill factored it "feels like minus 5." Fortunately, just as I'm bumming the memories of temperate climes, Allan K. emails its 14/-2 in D.C., so I'm not missing much apparently.

Back to the grind then: Jobs jobs jobs jobs...