Stay Outta da Bushes!!!

I don't know when it became de rigueur to shave the fro below, but it wasn't in the 80's - all you youngins just take my word for it.

Someone sent me a link to Clitical so me bein' the Innocent Lamb and all, I just HAD to look. Which then led to Feather Touch.

Somehow the 90's produced a bit of sanity, but I don't know where it started. Maybe being the porn cap of the world, the Valley* had something to do with it.

Whatever, lawn-mowing was here to stay - THANK GOD. Ladies, you just don't understand the true meaning and depth of the phrase, "carpet munchin'," unless yer a lesbo then god bless.

Somewhere in the mid-90's I met one of the few howlee gals I've been involved with. More a curiosity thing than anything else. Anyway, I'd be lyin' if I said that it was her bush that killed it but...

DAMN.

That first time I was stunned - In the semi-dark her kooch looked like a tumbleweed.

Remember, this was the mid 90's. I'd had earlier gfs that shaved.

Then there's man-scaping. Is that gay or something?** Damn.
====================

* The San Fernando Valley, a vast nether region/cultural wasteland, otherwise known as "lil podunk," cause while it's close enough to LA it's even more provincially vapid (if that can be said of an LA suburb) than LA.

** This is all old old old to Stern's fans. Shit, even ARTIE manscapes.

Pee Pee Be Gone Sustainably

Damn! Falcon Urinals rock da Palladium!

Some of you know about my interest in sustainability/green/community etc topics. They kind of mesh at some point with the bigger picture as everything does, but sweet virgin mother, I never thought it'd be pee pee I'd be writing about!

Truth of the matter is that I've been wanting to write about this for a while as "my" building where I do time on the plantation of the evil empire is fitted with Falcon Waterfree Technologies urinals. Suh-weeet!

The first time I wizzed in one of these babies I was like, "duh," cuz there's no flush handle. And I remember reading the Falcon label; "Falcon Waterfree Technologies," and thinking, "...?" What threw me off even more is that there's a snake inlet for plumbers nearby, so I even tried pushing that to no avail of course.



(Notice the snake inlets nearby?)

These things don't flush. Cause they don't use water. At all. Period.

No, instead Falcon does a filter and different kind of trap thing technology as opposed to the standard "s trap." Yeah, I know a thing or two about plumbing that's utterly useless when trying to impress broads - except when ya gotta fix something and be macho man with tools and they turn into the helpless damsel. In a French maid outfit. With stiletto heels. But I digress.

I'll post pics of our state of the art in pee pee stalls soon - those aren't exactly the kind of pics you obtain easily, if ya know what I mean. But then again, if ya don't ya betta axe sumbuddy. Note: Falcon's world hqs are here in LA. Yippee.


(Falcon orgy)

Falcon. Conjures up majestic images of a razor sharp predator, on the prowl for...

PEE PEE!!!

What does a falcon have to do with pee pee...? I dunno. I mean, look at their logo; is poor Mr. Falcon's head just peeking out above an ocean of pee pee?


Damn.

Raging Belly

Starting now I'm going to open up my personal life a bit more. This is so those out there can get a better picture of me but also because so much of what I write about are things outside of my life, so to speak. So, with a toe in the water, I'll begin by writing about one of my friends from UCLA, Dave. (For posterity, as of this writing the Bruins are number one. Collison, Afflalo, Shipp, Mata... under Coach Howland, after reaching the final last year AND losing Jordan Farmar [who's doing really well, thank you] to the Lakes...)

Some who know me may wonder, why with a friend and not close to home, like my daughter or brother?

The truth of the matter is that I've always been a private person, having grown up an only child. I've also been on the net since before it was GUI based, and I've seen the explosion of personal information taken in every which direction, good, bad and for the most part boring. So toe in the water and let's leave it at that for now. Maybe it just takes getting used to. We'll see.

So me and Dave go back to school days. I'll give more background info on him in future posts, because a little of that goes a long way and in one dose can be lethal. One thing we share in common; we're foodies. One more; as we get older, our metabolism... is... slowing... down.

Hardy fucken har.

Here's a recent convo:

me: Man, we had SO much grub left over from the office party I thought I'd give some to the security guard and the invisible mud peeps (mps) cleaning crew.

D: You mean the mud people as in brown persuasion?

me: Uhm. So first I ask if it's alright to give the mud peeps some food, and I get the word to tell them to just come on up. So, as I get my "alleviate privileged amerikkkan guilt quotient" temporarily sated, I gather up some cupcakes for the poor, downtrodden mps and make my way downstairs. But not before I grabbed a box of lemon cake.

me: I give the mps the cupcakes and tell them, "Tenemos mucho comida; Antes termine va al cuarto" - they smile and thank me and my quotient scale hits "F" for fulfillment. Of note, the security guard, an older brotha prolly in his 60's, looked down sorta derisively at the cupcake but nodded a thank you. Anyway, here's the rub: I kept the lemon cake.

D: [laffs]

me: But there was more, and they were going up there...

D: Well, I had this peach cobbler...

me: The fish place we went to that time...?

D: Yeah. So, I got a small one for myself and a large one for my sister (Sonia) and her used-car salesman chump, er, bf. (disclosure: I called him that, but Dave would agree. No, laff, then agree.)
I get home, chow down my cobbler, then settle in.

me: To "Command Center 3"? (in joke)

D: Yeah. So then Sonia comes home. I said, "hi."

[medium long PAUSE]

me: [Saw it coming before it left the station but laffing anyway]

D: [not missing a beat] Yeah I did.

me: [belly laff]

D: Then there was my protest.

me: Huh?

D: Well, yesterday I went to the local burger joint and got fish 'n chips - we've been there before. (Dave lives in a suburb of LA near JPL/CalTech, not exactly close to me) They gave me this MOUNTAIN of fries.

me: So you scarfed them?

D: Well, I got about half way through them, then I said to myself, "Damn, I'm only half way through. This is gonna get serious." (NOTE: One thing I didn't mention; Dave's 6'3" and, well, as his peeps say, he's big boned-ed).

me: [small belly laff]

D: So I plowed down to the last three fries and left them.

me: Huh???

D: Yeah - those were my "protest fries."

me: [bigger belly laff] And I suppose you had a "protest Coke" along with that?

D: Horchata. Yeah, I went and got a refill then went home. Walked in the house and threw it away.

me: Huh???

D: My "protest horchata."

The Way it Was: Homage to Ahmet Ertegun

A legend left this world 12/14/06.

As with my earlier paean to Bill Graham, Ahmet Ertegun is the last of a dying breed. Like Pike Bishop's Wild Bunch, the very underpinnings of history are moving beneath their feet; "Those times are closing fast."

Ertegun had that nurturing ability when it came to artists, what in the business is a lost art; development. That art is gone because the economics of today's music oligopoly obliterate the human touch and replace it instead with spread sheets, value maximization and all of the attendant ilk. But it was Ertegun who - along with older brother Nesuhi and (fellow legend) Jerry Wexler - instilled that nurturing spirit into their baby, Atlantic Records.

Press junkets and photo ops - those are the stuff of today because they "maximize value," much as a developer trashing a single-family home and erecting a condo.

Ertegun - like Graham - was passionate in his diversity; from blues to his first love, jazz and on to some of the biggest names of 60's and 70's rock. Of note, he always contextualized those genres as "black American music."

He could have had all of the privilege his lineage afforded him; his father was the ambassador to his motherland, Turkey. But his older brother would hold sway, and as a young man, in a foreshadowing of his sensibilities, Nesuhi was known to have hung around Breton. It would also lead to Nesuhi exposing a young Ahmet to "race music."

Ertegun saw Nat Cole play before he became "King" and knew who the demi-god Art Tatum was despite the master's public obscurity. Hearing Clapton for the first time playing live but not immdediately seeing him, he knew ... he also felt the same way about Page when he got the fledging post-Yardbirds nascent Led Zep's demo. Thus, two of the three British blues-based rock guitar gods (the third was Beck) went to Atlantic and made history.

Today, Tower records goes bankrupt and the music oligarchs throw up their hands at the burning of Rome. "Downloading is killing us," they say. Maybe. But is it just a coincidence that as a kid I'd listen to records and pour over liner notes, read "Down Beat" and "Creem" and "Rolling Stone" (when it was worth a plugged nickel), and be enthralled? Music seemed to be about more then, and something, dare I say it, was in the air. And Ertegun was an integral part of that spirit.

The air in today's room is putrid.

Open the windows. Ahmet Ertegun has left the room.

Hanky the Terrorist, Uncle Scam and Mega Media

A week or two ago I was watching Charlie Rose and he had that basset hound Henry Kissinger on, and the inevitable "Iraq question(s)" come up. The parallels; escalation, insurgency, civil war...

But it's absolutely amazing how Charlie can be so off point and more, a softballer. I mean, he's the ONLY talk show that will guest Chomsky, which just goes to show how deep the "Jewish mafia" runs in mega-corp controlled mass-media. Btw, for anyone who doubts the Janus faced history of Jews in Hollywood, just read Gabler's, "An Empire of Their Own: How the Jews Invented Hollywood." Jesus Christ (how's that for irony?), I thought my peeps were fucked up in terms of self-image. It cracks me up - wryly, of course - how, whenever I speak on a panel or at a seminar, inevitably I meet up with wide-eyed film students, hoping against hope that theirs is the lucky lotto number....

Shudder.

These poor kids - they spend tens of thousands of dollars on a film school "education" but can't tell you who this is...


let alone this dude


and god send money should they know who THIS is...


...cause I'll need a Costco sized bundle of tp to wipe my ass from the shock shit.

So. Charlie "sometimes on point" Rose has Henry, "I systematically TERRORIZED millions of mud people got a Nobel Prize out of it and some fat ass speaking engagements," Kissinger on. Asking the Iraq questions. The parallels.

THE PARALLELS???

I got your parallels, hanky, ya punk ass beeeatch, hiding behind your rat-bastard nixonian presidential seal while pushing buttons that terrorize; how about some donkey balls parallel to your chin muthaphuka??? How about THIS for a parallel, that you ILLEGALLY and sytematically TERRORIZED millions of Asians via the TET fucking offensive, you putrid piece of regurgitated bukake?

"The terrorists," "the war on terror" ... Parallel this: We're the laughing stock of the world because of this embarrassment of an administration.

Just as with the nixon administration.

I think this is the great trick of uncle scam; the games he sets up are basically elementary - taking a page from Goebbels and another from Bernays while being later deconstructed by Herman & Chomsky:

1. Control messaging via mass-media. Check.

2. Make sure the freeways that govern access to political power are constantly jammed with over 30,000 lobbyists, each wtih a man purse of laundered money. Check.

3. #2 also serves another purpose; it effectivly cuts off the .000001% of the riff-raff mud peeps that have a smidgen of power.

3. Have an endless supply of diversions - concocted or not - that mis-direct the laity and can be amply farmed out to #1. Check.

4. Liberal (in the conservative sense of that word) mentioning of buzz words/phrases; "freedom," "democracy," "America loves freedom," "war on terror," etc., while making Hegel twist in his grave by antithetically citing "the enemy," and that, "they're jealous of our freedom."

5. Lather, rinse... you now the drill.

It goes without saying so I"ll say it; sell-outs like this reprobate


not to in any way be corn-fused with THIS dude


are a necessary part of uncle scam's equation as well.

It's one of the most energy-sapping things to watch, the way these devils run their games.

I'ts also hard to critique when most of us are so self-involved with our own personal crap, because while the game is basically fundamental, it's macro. And we're not trained to think macro, much less long-term, much much less, critically, much much much less analogically.

For ONCE I'd like to see our mainstream journalists grow some nuts - JUST ONCE, so that I can have a smile fest for a minute just watching human puss sacks like Kissinger squirm in his grease. This is why Howard Stern, despite ... well, you know, he's Howard, it's why things like sending Stuttering John out to completgely deflate pompous celebs were fucking brilliant. Sasha Baron Cohen ain't got nothin' on Stern.

For someone like me, born in Hollywood (Kaiser, right on Sunsent), mass media's in my DNA. Just not in the, "I'll-degrade-myself-to-sub-species-level-AND-eat-mega-corp-conglomo-mierda-to-even
have-what-I-think-is-a-shot-at-working-FOR-FREE-on-your-plantation," sense.

Hanky, do humanity a favor; shove a burnt weenie sandwich up yer butt so that weasels rip your flesh to get at it.

Allusions and wordplay in this post: At least two. I think. (I'm particularly proud of the last one...)