Saturday, June 23, 2007

Local "Slasher" Action

Just Another Blog (From L. A.)™ has decided to add even more crap to the already unspeakably busy & garish mess it's running here: a local blog roll. We call it "Friends, Acquaintances, Neighbors." (Look to the right, cretins.) Only one actual friend on it, as Just Another Blog™ is bitterly anti-social, & just one acquaintance, but they're all neighbors. Locals Only!! While looking through others' blogrolls for local stuff we came across this neat bit of information. Having lived w/in the very area mapped for approx. half the 30+ yrs. we've been in this benighted hell-hole, we were aware of the "slash" from actual street level, not from satellite reconnaissance. (Though we have GoogleEarthed it.) And now we know we aren't the only ones to have noticed.

Exciting Summer Add-ons!!! New & Improved!! Hubba Hubba!!

Please note our new, exciting additions, just for summer! Now you can watch television & receive news updates right here @ Just Another Blog (from L. A.)™. You might as well make Just Another Blog™ your home page now, 'cause you'll never have to leave it again except for Chee-to™ runs. Watch moving pictures on a tiny 2" x 2" screen! Get the news from the same mainstream sources you went to the internets to avoid! See how long your browser will resist the urge to crash!! All this & more is yours, all summer long, and it's free, free, FREE!!!

Boys & Toys

Now we have a better idea of what a Mittens administration would be like. Except his flunkies will have the full power of the gummint behind them. Not the laws of the gummint, just the power. To use & abuse as they wish.
The bully/wanna-be in question is 29. Why isn't he on a police force somewhere, stopping crime? If he's so big on pulling people over & interrogating them, Just Another Blog™ understands a group known as the U. S. Army is looking for people to do that sort of thing in Iraq. Get your ass over there, chump!

Comment of the Week

No comment.

Transparency, The Google Way

The evil-doers at Google are at it again, not merely fucking Just Another Blog™ every chance they get (see item directly below) but now putting the entire human population at risk with their Google Earth™ bullshit. Not to mention their new thing, Street View™, where they drive around your town & take pictures of everything, to make it easier for stalkers to find & stalk you, and easier for criminal types to case banks, liquor stores, etc. Great. How far would Just Another Blog™ get trying to take pictures of Sergei's & Larry's mansions? Hypocrites.

Friday, June 22, 2007

Just Another Blog™ is Getting Very, Very Angry!!!

Two worthless, pathetic, computer geek nerds who need a significant blogger beat-down before they steal any more money from the world. (And Just Another Blog™ is just the blog to beat these two shits into a pulp.) Photo by Noah Berger AP. Hope his eyes have recovered from the horror.
Video Post FailedThe video post to your blog named "Just Another Blog (from L. A.)" at,
"Mothers, Lennon, Ono 1971 - You Know I Love You
Baby Please Don't G" has fail The video post to your blog named "Just Another Blog (from L. A.)" at, "Mothers, Lennon, Ono 1971
- You Know I Love You Baby Please Don't G" has failed.This occured for the following reason:An error has occurred. Message: UnknownReason: HTTP Error 400: Bad Request: Jun 22, 2007, 05:52 PM


Really. You "people" all work for the same fascist, evil-doing corporate entity, why can't you step across the hall & find why the fucking hell this promised service doesn't work? You know, put your heads together & figure something out? And by the way, YouTube, your "embed" thingy doesn't work either; Just Another Blog™ gets a buncha HTML errors when trying to post w/ an imbedded YouYube clip , the image of the video is never visible, etc.
How is Just Another Blog™ suppposed to become an internet thousandaire if it can't post videos to suck in the rubes? Huh? How? Could you fuckwads explain that to us?
It is known you fucking Nazis are monitoring everything typed here, to tell your Chinese Communist masters if anyone says "poopy-doody" about them, so take note of this & respond appropriately.
P. S.: Consider this a threat of physical violence. If Just Another Blog™ thought it could get past the goons & thugs hired for security at your "campus" (how sickening is it to call a fortress of greed & repression a "campus", by the way? "Pus" is the only part that applies) several of you would be in serious bleeding pain by now!!
P. P. S. Oh look (one item down) one of three or four attempts has appeared. This makes no fucking difference to anything typed above, GOOGLE/YOUTUBE/BLOGGER STILL SUCK SUCK SUCK!!!!!!

Plastic Ono Mothers - Scumbag

Maybe this will post this time, but it doesn't seem likely.

More Mormon Moronicity

In this representation of Mormon mythology, Cheezis K. Rist (in back-lit white dress) has come to the New World to spread the Gospel Of Scientology™ to the "Lost Tribes of Israel," who moved to North America about 600 B. C. E. for the real estate values & the Amway opportunies. (Note pseudo-Aztec/Mayan temple in background.) Then Elohim (that's their god's given name) turned half of them into darker-skinned people 'cause they didn't kiss his ass enough. Or something. Just Another Blog™ can't figure it out, & we doubt Mormons can either. Image from allaboutmormons.

The Daily Dish, a wholly owned subsidiary of The Atlantic, has linked to two Atlantic articles from previous centuries that concern our friends the Mormons, one published in the April, 1864 issue, one from February 1900.
The meat from 1900:
"This Mormon Church binds its adherents with the strongest bonds known under heaven. It is at once a religion, an empire, a fraternity, a trust, and a partnership in crime."
Both regular readers of Just Another Blog (from L. A.)™ know that we hold a special place in our black, evil, little heart for the Latter-Day Saints, mostly because, as their cult is completely w/in the purview of recent, recorded history, it's so easy to demonstrate that the whole thing is as bogus as soy milk, or Piltdown man, or unicorns, or George Bush's plans for anything. So we just love mocking Mormons, and by extension, all other religions. Bogus, bogus, bogus. All of it.

Enjoy the prose of previous centuries, by the way. You'll really appreciate the modern, stripped-down style we offer @ Just Another Blog™.

The Creature Has Eyes

Not much else visible though. Focus? Please. Whatta load of bourgeois baloney. Next you all will be asking for writing you can "understand." W/ grammar. Hah!

"I've Got The World Up My Ass"

Photo © Ann Summa.
No one in this band is dead yet.
And they're still working.

Ralphs on Sunset

A. A. & her Clintonian sexual fixation. (She's more into sex than crime, her take on Clintons as Sopranos had none of the Mafia fever many of the wingnut crowd got from the bit.)

Then we spotted this rutabaga reference:

And, by the way, vegetables are not that innocent. Don't you know that they dream of responding to you? Why else are they covered with dew?

Aaah. Too much subversive pleasure music in her formative yrs., leading to the inability not to find smut virtually everywhere. Just Another Blog™ used to be the same way, till the melancholia took over. Now, we don't want to think about Bill Clinton at all, let alone his sex life. Not much chance of avoiding him & his baggage (no, not Senator C., his "reputation") for the next few (too damn many) months, we guess.

Ha Ha or...

Gene Weingarten thinks Lou Dobbs is funny.
Just Another Blog™ hasn't decided yet.

Day of Memory And Sorrow

"I was born in the concentration camp in Latvia. We were there with my mother. I recollect only fascist boots and mouth-organ sound since then. When we were released in 1945, I was three. June 22 for me is the Day of Memory and Sorrow and difficult recollections of my childhood," Antonina Gureyeva, former under-aged prisoner of a fascist concentration camp, said.
The gathered laid wreaths of live flowers to the monument and paid tribute to those killed in the Great Patriotic War with a minute's silence. After that everyone could approach the Pantheon of Glory and lay flowers.
Beneath: Veterans of the Great Patriotic War at the Krasnoyarsk Victory Memorial. ©2007 NEWSLAB
Top: Hitler Youth chuck rocks at Soviet tanks, Berlin, April 1945, as the Great Patriotic War comes to its historically inevitable end, which now appears to have been a ruse or scam of some sort.
66 yrs. ago, 20 million of our socialist sisters & brothers dead, and now it looks like the fascists won despite the sacrifice, & (apparent) victory.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

What Is Hip (& Why Should We Care)?

The Assimilated Negro poses some questions. (EDITING: Just noticed those questions were posed over a yr. ago. Still good questions, & we've been wondering about the "wigger" deal, as mentioned below, for a while.) He may answer them too, but we figured it looked interesting enough to spontaneously link thereto, w/o reading. Hell, it's a good enough blog title to link to w/ no other basis. And it had Nate, commenting on hipsters: "... they’re just well read motherfuckers that like to party and use their intellect to make fun of others." Who, us? We're not hipsters, we're fringies.

Zitface, Li'l Kobe, & Dilrod: The Icy Hot Stuntaz:* Please, ask us sometime for our take on honkies appropriating Afro-American culture. We've appropriated more than our share, but in our salad days we didn't feel we had to act & dress exactly like Iceberg Slim, James Brown, Huey Newton or Flip Wilson to be "authentic." Today's young Euro-American morons, however, have to go the whole baggy pants, bling, & gang sign route. There's even a site devoted to "white chicks flashing gang signs." (Look it up yourself, Just Another Blog™ is lazier than any stereotype you got!) Is it 'cause Euro-Amer culcha these last two decades is even less "authentic" than it was in Just Another Blog's™ day? How could it have gotten worse? We haven't the energy to think about this, let alone write something (coherent or otherwise) about it, but the subject has been on the editorial mind lately. One of these days....

*Photo for illustrative purposes only. The Icy Hot Stuntaz are not known, meant or implied to be connected with anything to do w/ this article or anything else. May not be their legal names. Not valid in Washington State.

Band Names From The Rockies

Good ol' Bob Wire discusses local band action in the Mountain West.

"The Best To You Each Morning"

Scroll down to 100 Years Ago. Look for Dr. Kellogg. Yum!

BTW, Yahoo! Sucks Too!!!

In case there was any question. Just Another Blog™ uses AT&T/Yahoo! DSL, and some Yahoo! e-mail. Haven't checked it since Sunday. Wonder what I''ll find.
And how about the several wks. in March when Yahoo! TV BETA didn't work? Good thing Semel left, I would have had to KICK HIS ASS!

Up Your News W/ Some Shoes

From "New" Europe: punks & skins at it again.

From the News Feed

At last, bloggers con cojones.

The Price We Pay For Free Speech

Attack of the Pod People again. Is it Norm?
Just Another Blog™ read the article about three wks. ago when it was first posted.
Think we even linked to it, w/o further comment, in May.
consortium indicates it may not yet be "go time,"

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

66 SEALs in a Can

Just Another Blog™ was unaware that four Trident missile-launching submarines
are being converted to Tomahawk launching SEAL carriers, the better to subvert governments that don't respect freedom & liberty the way we do."Hello, we're the new weapons inspectors."
And some interesting thoughts on the future of naval warfare. (The pipeline of cheap plastic shit made by Asian slave labor may dry up before we run out of credit w/ which to acquire it.)

Very Interesting. Fascinating, Even.

The sitemeter is interesting. Just Another Blog™ is ranked @ 2,202,298 on technorati™ (authority: 1, whatever that means, but it can't be good) & we were eighth of 2,664 Google™ results for "Chris Matthews + Shit" & eighth (again) of 676 Google™ results for "Hajdu + Zorn." So we thought we'd dick about in the inner tubes, find both pages of the New Republic™ article & the comments (and they were in three different places) & publish the results here (item immediately below). We know a large portion of our readership are John Zorn enthusiasts, and when we first ran the story (linked only) the link didn't last too long. Now, in the interests of public service, we let it loose for our readers & those who want the full story w/out shelling out $X.98 for a two week trial.

TNR's Hajdu on Zorn ©2007

From The New Republic:

Post date 06.15.07 Issue date 06.18.07

Tonic, an ascetic little hostel for outré music and arty noise in the longtime cultural center of outré artiness, Manhattan's Lower East Side, closed down in April after nine years of hot-and-cold business--a casualty of engulfing gentrification and bureaucratic harassment, according to the club's owners. For their last night on Norfolk Street, they arranged to go out as grandly as possible and booked John Zorn, the fifty-three-year-old godhead of the downtown musical scene, to lead two sets of performances by an ad hoc assemblage of musicians in his sphere. The line for admission started forming more than three hours before showtime, and it stretched along two blocks before the doors opened. The evening was chilly and wet. I counted three open umbrellas, including my own.
A film crew was interviewing people on line, and one of the men in a group ahead of me waved down the camera operator. "If half these bullshit parasites came down here before this place closed," he told the film-maker, "it wouldn't have to close!" As the crew moved down the sidewalk, the piqued guy asked me if I had a cigarette, and I asked him to tell me about some of his favorite Tonic shows. He said this was only his second time at the club, although he loves John Zorn and had seen him play elsewhere.
About ten minutes before the first set was scheduled to start, Zorn came striding down the street, parallel to the queue, just a few feet from the people, glaring straight ahead. He was carrying his alto saxophone in a case and wearing baggy desert-camouflage pants and an orange T-shirt--the same clothes (or precisely matching ones) that he had worn each of the last three times I had seen him perform this year, once earlier at Tonic and twice at The Stone, the tiny storefront performance space that Zorn himself owns and operates on Avenue C. As he sped past, fans burst into a chant of "Zorn! Zorn!" He glowered in silence, and when the camera pointed at him he shook his head, declining the attention. I could only wonder what the shouting fans and the film crew had in mind. Why would they think that someone who makes a point regularly to appear dressed in camouflage and a T-shirt would want attention?

In the music he put together that night, Zorn made a bookend to the concerts that he had organized for Tonic shortly after the club opened in 1998, events that had helped considerably to establish Tonic's credibility as a bohemian refuge. On both occasions, Zorn served in part as a creative shepherd--selecting, organizing, and hosting the performers--and also as the special guest star of his own show, sort of a recherché hydra of Ed Sullivan and the Beatles. On the last night at Tonic, the musicians drifted in and out of the club and all around the bandstand, and their playing styles varied--more than two dozen artists performed in various configurations into the early hours of the morning--though they were connected in their common passion for free improvisation, their take-it-or-leave-it attitude toward conventional Western tonality, and their conception of noise as music.
None of this thinking has been new or radical in the domains of classical music, jazz, or hardcore rock and punk for years. But neither have the ideals of free improvisation, atonality, or noise-as-music poured out of the rarefied waters of art music into the mainstream to join the standards of value applied on American Idol. Indeed, the unifying principle of much of the work performed at Tonic from its opening shows to its closing ones, as with a great deal of music at other new-music venues such as the Knitting Factory and The Stone, is not really its ostensible newness or radicalism, but rather its unacceptability in popular culture. Though commonly regarded as insular and self-referential, the world of John Zorn and his peers and followers is integrally engaged with the mainstream, in that it defines itself by its conscientious alienation from it. The music is all about status.
Zorn appeared onstage after about half an hour of performances by four small groups, one of which featured the delightful pianist Sylvie Courvoisier, who produced a spirited rhythmic sound collage by rapping and strumming every part of the inside of the instrument. One of the drummers used a violin bow to play the steel rim of his snare drum. A percussionist thwacked on a Jew's harp and yammered loopy gibberish while his partner did a slow, rudimentary tap dance. It was all resolutely different. And yet it was all nearly identical to the neo-Dada happenings of the Warhol era--the 1960s again, but without the ameliorating benefit of the drugs.
Performing in a trio with piano and drums, Zorn played an improvisation of sound graffiti sprayed in bursts and flurrying splashes of accelerating propulsion. He began with a series of short modal phrases, but quickly abandoned modality and, in little time, dropped tonality altogether, screeching and cronking. Early in his career, Zorn began to develop an expansive vocabulary of extramusical sounds that he could produce with precision on the alto saxophone, often by using only the mouthpiece of the instrument, sometimes by playing the mouthpiece through a bowl of water. For a few years, he tried to devise a system to identify all the noises he could make and to notate them with hieroglyphic-like symbols, an effort along the lines of his idol Harry Partch's attempts to invent new scales and notational methods to accommodate the odd tones, microtones, and quasi-tones that emanated from the instruments that he constructed out of old light bulbs, empty liquor bottles, and driftwood. To the uninitiated, the sounds that Zorn produces may sometimes seem like assaultive noise blurted out arbitrarily. In fact, they are assaultive noise crafted with meticulous care. For this piece, Zorn employed the entire saxophone, though he blew into it so hard that the instrument rattled in his hands and appeared about to fly apart.
After the first set, Zorn spoke briefly--very briefly--to a small group of fans and a couple of journalists assembled near the door to the club's office. "The yuppies are taking over," he warned us in a vatic hush. "We're all fucked." He lowered his head and hurried away, presumably to prepare for the second set.

The last night at Tonic presented John Zorn--a guarded man protective of his public image--as he likes to be seen: a martyrly champion of a noble and doomed cause, a victim of institutional indifference and maltreatment. He revels in his vaunted status as an outsider and a cultural insurgent; hence the meticulous screeching and cronking, as well as the guerrilla's pants. For years, before he switched to the orange T-shirt, he performed in one printed with the phrase "Die Yuppie Scum." In the few interviews he has given, Zorn has been quick to articulate his hero worship for artistic dissidents and outcasts such as Partch, Charles Ives, Joseph Cornell, and Harry Smith-- his determination to follow their example, and his fear of oppression by giant, faceless institutions. "I think the outsiders, the individualists, the people who have a messianic belief in themselves and are able to stick with their vision despite all odds ... the people that can stick with that, they're the ones that are really going to make a difference in the world," he said in an interview with the magazine JazzTimes. "And they will always be a small number, and I've always aspired to be one of that number." And this: "I see enormous corporations acting like slave masters, like the return of the pharaohs. I see co-opting all around. I see McDonald's everywhere. I see the destruction of ... the small mom and pop stores.... That is the big problem--the pharaohs controlling us. Sure, there will be independent artists, always. But they'll always be on the fringe."
Apart from the vainglory of such messiah talk, there is a sizable problem with Zorn's ongoing self-projection as a repressed, misunderstood, and underappreciated musical outcast. It is the fact that he is now a well-established and celebrated figure, a composer recognized not only in the downtown institutions in which he has always thrived, and in the sibling bodies that he has founded and run for the advancement of his own work and that of his kindred souls and protégés, such as The Stone and his record company Tzadik, but in major cultural institutions as well. The pharaohs of the arts establishment have bestowed honor and riches upon him. Last year he won a MacArthur "genius" grant ($500,000), and in March he received the William Schuman Award from the Columbia University School of the Arts, one of the largest grants given to an American musician ($50,000). The latter is given for lifetime achievement, and has gone previously to composers such as Milton Babbitt, Gunther Schuller, and Steve Reich.
But the achievements of Zorn's lifetime so far are a mixed lot--all of them extraordinary in one way or another, some indisputably significant, others dubious. He is certainly important and may well turn out to be historic as a symbol of musical adventurism and an inspiration to other composers--like Eric Satie, an enigmatic provocateur with an outsize mystique who stirred acolytes to do work better than his own. Over the decades since Zorn emerged as a model of the free-spirited genre-bending associated with downtown Manhattan, he has drawn countless musicians and composers into his orbit, and he has recorded or performed with dozens of them, including some fine ones, among them the composer and trumpeter Dave Douglas, the guitarist Bill Frisell, the pianists Anthony Coleman and Wayne Horvitz, the cellist Erik Friedlander, and the drummer Joey Baron.

Zorn is an exceptional artist, without question, because he prizes and seeks exceptionalism above all. This is not to say that he is exceptionally good at his art. What he is good at--so very good as to suggest a kind of genius--is being exceptional. Unfortunately, uniqueness is not an aesthetic value; it is a term of classification. To say that Zorn is one of a kind, as he certainly is, is to ignore the larger matters of his nature as an artist and, more significantly, the nature of his work, much of which is thin and gimmicky, and some of which is elementally corrupt.

Through his fiercely individualistic modes of working, Zorn deters attention to the work itself. He is obsessed with processes and systems, and he is often cavalier about their results. In the small-ensemble performances and albums that first brought him attention, Zorn led improvising musicians in what he called "game" pieces. Zorn did not compose them, exactly, but was responsible for them in that he invented and supervised the unprecedented system of rules for their spontaneous invention by the performers. He devised a set of signal cards, each of which indicated, in code, when certain musicians should play: now, the brass instruments; now, drums and guitar; now, the person to the left of the last person who played; now, nobody.... Further upending the standard notions of compositional authority or prerogative, Zorn left it to the musicians to call for the cards to be changed. His role was to stand in front of the group, hold up the cards, and switch them at the players' demand. The meaning of these cards changed as he added body-language cues, such as how high he held the sign and whether or not he was wearing a baseball cap at the moment.
The byzantine rules--to which the audience was never privy--were the artwork, such as it was. As Zorn explained, "What I came up with was this kind of game structure that talks about when people play and when they don't play but doesn't talk about what they do at all." Not what, but when: the content, the music itself, scarcely mattered to Zorn, who was concerned mainly with the novelty of its system of generation, a scheme not devised in service to the expression of human feelings, but brazenly indifferent, if not hostile, to them. As such, Zorn's game work was less an innovation in the creative process than a debasement of it.
Without making too much of his admiration for messiah figures, it is clear that a dominant theme of Zorn's career has been his dedication to attempting to invent new musical paradigms and launch new movements. At some point in his late twenties or early thirties, Zorn grew more interested in his Jewish heritage, as many artists (and non-artists) of all backgrounds turn to their roots as they age. The results of Zorn's ethnic awakening have included a body of more than five hundred shortish compositions with the group title "Masada," named for the famous Jewish martyrdom site of the Roman era; his record label Tzadik (tzaddik denotes a righteous person, a saintly person, in Hebrew); and an umbrella effort that is broader, more ambitious, and more nebulous, which Zorn calls Radical Jewish Culture.
Zorn has overseen the performance and the recording of the Masada pieces by ensembles of various sorts--art rockers, chamber groups, and a jazz quartet featuring Zorn on alto saxophone, Dave Douglas on trumpet, Greg Cohen on bass, and Joey Baron on drums. As compositions, the Masada pieces are simple and repetitious, inspired loosely by traditional melodies and, for the most part, constructed with the standard tools: minor keys and folk-dance rhythms. Many of the tunes are charming and elegiac, unique among Zorn's generally oppressive work; and Douglas, Cohen, and Baron are all players of uncommon sensitivity, employed well here. Zorn, too, though scarcely on the level of his bandmates as an instrumentalist, plays with rare nuance and delicacy on some of the Masada CDs.
Beyond the Masada pieces, the concerts and recording projects organized by Zorn under the rubric of Radical Jewish Culture have been a mishmash of works, some related so tenuously to Jewish culture that Zorn's application of the phrase seems less radical than cynical. An early example, and just one of many, is Zorn's multi-artist, two-CD tribute to Burt Bacharach, titled Great Jewish Music. The collection features a hodgepodge of artists associated with Zorn, as well as Sean Lennon, playing Bacharach hits such as "Close to You," "Do You Know the Way to San Jose," "What's New Pussycat," and "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance." The music is delightful pop schmaltz; but apart from the Yiddish origins of that term, it is no more Jewish music than this sentence is Magyar language because its writer has great-grandparents from Hungary.
Zorn was asked, on NPR, what exactly it is that makes music Jewish. "Well, you know, I've been doing this for quite a while and I don't think I can honestly answer that question very accurately," he said. "It could be a lot of things. It could be just an intention of it wanted to be that. It could be a scale. It could be some dramatic subject or theme. It could be something historical. It could be something that's just emotional. It could [be] a lot of things. It could be nothing. I don't know." But to identify something or someone as Jewish and then accept "nothing" as a legitimate reason--surely this is in some way to deny the richness, and even the legitimacy, of Jewishness; it is, in its whatever-ism about its own identity, reckless and demeaning to real Jewish culture. Zorn, following up on the Bacharach CD, approached Dave Brubeck with the proposition of honoring his work in the "Great Jewish Music" series, and Brubeck had to tell Zorn that he is not Jewish. Thinking of "Blue Rondo à la Turk" and "Pick Up Sticks," I wonder why Zorn presumed that Brubeck is a Jew. Was it the cantorial part that Brubeck once included in a religious oratorio about social justice? But Brubeck, a Catholic, has also composed a mass. Or was it his nose?

On that last night at Tonic, Zorn headed back to the stage for the second set, and fans once again yelled out to him, "Zorn! Zorn!" Somebody hollered "Shalom!" and Zorn replied, "What it is!" What it is? That is a perfectly, bafflingly appropriate salutation for the living master of creative delusion.
David Hajdu is The New Republic's music critic

tnr Talkback:
I do not worship my toaster (1 of 6) posted by williamyard on 2007-06-15 13:25:38
although it makes a mean piece of toast.
I like a piece of toast now and again. Sometimes slathered with peanut butter, or like yesterday with a couple of those plastic cheese rectangles, some mayo, and a couple slices of tomato. But often, just plain toast. "Dry," as the cognocenti say.
Likewise, I worship no artist, although from time to time I like to consume his or her product. The important words in the previous sentence are "product" and "consume."
Music, like other products, has important implications for civilization. For example, much of it ends up in landfill. I like a little bebop during fellatio. Then there are those savvy dentists who fill our heads with it to drown out the drill.
Also, some of it is leaking into outer space. Perhaps one day a technologically and morally superior civilization in another galaxy will hear, say, Mozart's Symphony No. 40 in G Minor or Bjork crooning "Human Behaviour," fly into a rage, haul ass to our planetary system and pop Earth like a zit.
There's no accounting for taste.

w.y. (2 of 6) posted by basman on 2007-06-15 13:43:41
I'm gonna' read this piece and then maybe you and I can have some fun.

sho nuff, bas! (3 of 6) posted by williamyard on 2007-06-15 13:45:43

W.Y. (4 of 6) posted by basman on 2007-06-15 15:09:23
But W.Y. how could you not worship Zorn?
He's a Tzaddik as were Milton Berle, Milton Friedman, and John Milton, whose B Side, Lost in Paradise, had a semenal impact, especially on those who like some Bebop while, as you say, formulating their exit strategy.
I have heard rumours out of Cailfornia that a certain Zorn-like W.Y. during a transformative period of his life, and not that long ago in fact, for 39 months wore nothing but a pair of plaid sweatpants (held up only by a TNR braided money belt), knock off Converse Hightops and a ragged sweat shirt that said in bold purple print “Teplukhin Come Home: All Is Forgiven”, all encased in a glittery circle of these: ":-)".
Anyway, as the foregoing creakily shows, I cannot match you for wit. But, that conceded, I think Hajdu has a point, makes a good argument for it, and gives Zorn a good, spritely, not unimportant deconstructing upside his showily contrarian head.

"...formulating their exit strategy"--I like it. (5 of 6) posted by williamyard on 2007-06-15 15:59:25
Would Zorn object if I wore a "Die Toaster Zorn" T-shirt at one of his "concerts"?
At 53, he's not getting any younger--nor, apparently, is his act. That could be part of the problem. Years ago I read an interesting piece about men in their sixties and seventies. The article included photos. The guys shared two characteristics. First, they'd made multiple, fairly radical shifts in vocations over the years: a cop became a nightclub owner became a bike messenger became a botanist, that type of thing. Second, they all looked a good ten to fifteen years younger than their chronological ages, and they sounded it, too. I attribute their vitality to their restlessness--leaving their comfort zones for new challenges.
Hajdu's report makes Zorn sound a lot older than 53. A cranky old man, wedded to his "art" like a man in a crappy marriage.
Buckminster Fuller said, "God is a verb." That's as close as an accurate description of God as I, an agnostic, have heard. It implies that the less verb-like and the more noun-like we become, the further we stray from the divine.
Zorn seems stuck in his noun-ness. Per Hajdu's telling, Zorn's shtick is his exceptionalism--but it's the adjective "exceptional" modifying the noun (Zorn) rather than the adverb "exceptionally" modifying how the noun plays. He's an empty toaster. To produce toast, Zorn needs to remember how to be unexceptional (i.e., give his ego the slip). But has he toasted himself into a corner?
He should understand that the toaster I currently use is new. My old toaster unwittingly toasted a plastic fork that fell into it a couple weeks ago. (Try it sometime. If you like migraines, you'll love the fumes.)
Sorry I didn't really address your comments, bas. I'm just riffin' on a slow Friday. BTW, I always like seeing Hajdu in here.

you've got me laughing out loud, God bless you (6 of 6) posted by basman on 2007-06-15 16:04:18
More anon, perhaps.

©2007 The New Republic

We thought we would commit a possibly prosecutable (though not necessarily illegal) act because of the information that will be discussed in the next (above) item.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

How Many Will Fit in There?

Presidential hopefuls assemble to sing "God Bless America" on the steps of the Capitol in Washington, D. C. Photo from Smarty Pants. We recently linked to Duncan Hunter's presidential website (no, that's not a positive description; Duncan Hunter, if you've never heard of him, is a crooked Republican running for president, his campaign website is, ergo, presidential) then we happened across Mike Gravel's site, from a Crooks & Liars item on how little Gravel appears to know or care about the constitution. Having already made a snide remark about Hunter's site, & wondered if one can judge a candidate by looking @ a web site, we noted that Gravel's looks fairly cheese-y too. So, Just Another Blog decided to place all the sites of all the candidates deemed major by the media right here on one convenient little blog. Now y'all can make easy comparisons.

In no particular order (other than the order in which we remember these non-entities) here's the candidate bogroll for '08:

Thompson (running, less popular than Thompson not-running.)

Not declared (yet) but the media are
still interested:
(not Tommy) Thompson (not-running like nobody's business, as
this recent Reuters (Rasmussen) report might indicate.)

Alright, there is an order to this. Republicans first, on the basis of "age before beauty," if not "wretched old white men before relative youth, a woman, & a ½rican," alphabetical 'cause that's the only way we could remember them.


On the sidelines:

Now we check all the links, and come to the realization we're as bad off as we've been in (our) living memory.

UPDATE: No, Just Another Blog hasn't been able to access for a while either. Forces of repression @ work? (Updated very late.)
LATER: Working now. (20 June 0627)

Up in the Air, Junior Birdmen!

More poop on the plane to nowhere, and the Republican presidential candidate* who's been pimping it for the last 20 yrs.

*Note quality/style of website. Can one determine anything important about candidates from their websites?

Annals of Free Speech (Small Claims Court Division)

This could almost make Just Another Blog nervous, if we hadn't already had all of our nerves broken down for us some time ago. Seeing the Forest comments briefly, but go there just to admire the length of the bogblog roll. Yikes!!

"Shit!" (UPDATED)

"Oh fuck, I said 'shit!'"

You read it here first. Now Lardball is live in its second broadcast of the day (instead of a rerun of the 1700 ET hour) & Chris Matthews was so excited about this "breaking news" he said "shit," right there live on MSNBC, not knowing his mic was on. (It was about two seconds to air, he should have known better.) And then he had to excuse himself on the air. Ha ha.
Oh, the breaking news? New York City's actual, currently serving mayor, Michael Bloomberg, changed his party registration from R to Unaffiliated. Wow. He may actually be thinking about making a move to think about running. Let's all wet our pants. If he is running, though, he may not wallow in optimism. He's certainly not-running, as he visits one of California's neo-fascist corporate monoliths to bloviate. (Full Disclosure: Said "neo-fascist corporate monolith" makes Just Another Blog possible/necessary.)
And here's the AP via MSNBC.
UPDATE: Mr. Matthews earlier in the day. (Updated very early p. m.)
UPDATE #2: I finally caught up to Crooks & Liars, who caught up to Chris M. about 2016. (Updated 20 June, very, very early.)
FINAL UPDATE: Mr. Matthews wasn't "so excited" that he said that word, he was angry that it was a bullshit (Oh no, now we said it, too!) story & the producers were hyping it w/o much to go on/anything significant at all having happened. Perfectly reasonable use of the word, but Just Another Blog (Fm L. A.)™ was listening out of the corner of its ear, and caught it out of context. Just Another Blog™ is of a generation that is still occasionally distracted by hearing some of those words from the telebision, and w/ basic cable, we're just not expecting "shit" from MSNBC in the middle of the day. Our apologies if anyone actually read this. (20 June @ 0647)

Off We Go, Into the Wild Bluoo..THUD!!

Photo: Aircraft of World War II. For illustrative purposes only. Heard something about this earlier, or saw it out of the corner of my eye. As an aviation enthusiast, Just Another Blog™ was interested, just not quite enough to follow up on it. Then, while looking at suicide bombers coming to get us, we saw two stories @ ABC, & crash video. From two angles. Now that's aviation! Been going on for about 20 yrs., hasn't it? What takes so long? Oh, yeah, DuPont. Ha ha.

And a commenter has some advice for the locals:
I hold you SoCal residents accountable for continuing to elect these crooks (Cunningham, Hunter, Cox, Rohrabacher, Feinstein, etc.)! Quit bitching about Dupont and start voting the REAL problems out of office!
Posted by: FastEdd Jun 12, 2007 9:05:13 PM
No shit, SoCal. These pricks are an embarrassment. Vote early, vote often, and vote 'em out!


I don't get it. Is there a big election soon? Oh, this wasn't a gov't. announcement? An ABC News exclusive? That explains the timing, then.

Monday, June 18, 2007

Fudge Links

World O' Crap took up the challenge. And good for them. I can't look any more.

Beat the Meetles

Photo from Dr. Grordbort's Cosmic Bestiary. Wotta wackjob!
They're at it again! The Meat Beetles have three new numbers available for listening or downloading. Mrs. George W(orst) Bush on ld vcls on one of 'em.


ATTENTION TERRORISTS (Of All Persuaisons): Just Another Blog™ has added the services of sitemeter, both to remind itself that it is whimpering & moaning into a personal echo chamber and, Bill O'Reilly-stylee, to enable Just Another Blog Security to ask its many friends in the retired/fired law enforcement community to use your IP address to find where you live/work. Consider yourselves intimidated, and watch your comments.
There's no cheating, visits from this IP address are not counted, & there'sve actually been athree visitors! (Maybe the "don't recognize this IP" thing isn't working yet.) I cheated the meter's starting no. to 47, figuring approx. one sucker per day pre-counter isn't too bad a guess.


Commenter trashfire @ World O' Crap posted a link to the above photo, requesting: "Blog this." The picture says 1000 words by itself.
I dunno about the "have a beer w/" test for the presidency, (Mittens the Mormon probably doesn't want to have a beer w/ you, anyway) but no man over 50 wants to be in the same room w/ someone grimacing like that & putting on a medical looking glove.
Here's an idea: Have a Beer with FEAR!

Sunday, June 17, 2007

Let's Have an Indian War

Click pic to enlarge.
King of Comments Peabody mentioned Indian Country a few items down.
And what should I find just a few hours later? Something from last Monday. Coincidence? Or conspiracy?

Happy Fathers Day...

...especially to those of us who neither have nor are fathers.

30 Years and Counting ...

Belinda C., Pleasant G. & Rosemarie Patronette (?) about the same time.
From Femmes Fatales.
From the L. A. Times' Image. (Section P.) Some of you may remember these dames. (Some of you may have "known" some of these dames, if you know what I mean.)
Where are they now? Belinda? Too well off to be seen w/ poor people.
Hellin? I dunno.
Pleasant? I dunno either (belly dancing, maybe) but if she was 17 then, she's 47 now! (And she attended high school w/ Todd Homer!)
And Ms. Bag is rumoured to have a real job, & is keeping up w/ kids today & their weird crap by means of Bop over there & see what 30 yrs. of local action have done to some of us. One may also visit punk turns 30, conveniently located on Just Another Blog's sidebar (to the right somewhere). That's where I first found the Bag site, & links to other such wallows in la nostalgie.