Easter Ham Sammich

I think the Easter Ham boils down the beef that I have with "The CHuRch". We celebrate the life of a Kosher Eschatalogian by eating Filthy Pork? I don't mean to denigrate the integrity of some spiral cut honey smoked Pig. The shit is tasty. I'm just saying (typing) Jesus would say that eating Pork is definitely a sin. As far as Xtianity Judaism are concerned, they've both gone downhill since they quit killing animals in front of everybody. It may seem backwoods and primitive, but, when you're trying to directly relate with the encapsulized embodiment of all existence past present and future as its unique and beloved children, you might have to get your nails dirty. That was a bad Jesus pun that I didn't notice at first. Happy Easter! I agree with Yo-Laina that we need more people like this crew. The extended group consists of about 50+ people. They all organize these elaborate schemes, like throwing a birthday party for a complete stranger. It made me grin when I read about an operation they had called "Best Gig Ever!" They picked a random small and struggling band that would be coming to NYC. They download music, and learn all the words to their songs. They go all out. I'm talking about making Tshirts and temporary tattoos. 50 of them show up for the Gig, and are fully stoked. That's the best part. They're not making fun of these people. They just give that little band the "Best Gig Ever!" Fucking Classic! Oh Yeah, were it not for the Improv Everywhere Army, this should would have had 3 people in the audience. They might have had their ass kicked by the city, and not even bothered to play. (Thanks .:DataWhat:.) Go ahead and think me insensitive, but I am so sick of hearing about Terry Schiavo. All I gotta say is that if I were in the same situation, I would pray to be hauled up the volcano. This kid got arrested because his parents dragged his prepubescent red state ass out to the hospital, and told him to take her some water. As if having a child bring her water would make her young and beautiful again. Again, If it were me, hot lava. Enough of that... If you want to listen to Tom Waits all day long, then clickety-click.

Inimitable Eavesdropper, Inveterate Nailbiter

The Comic Book Shop guys were killing me yesterday. Customer One and Guy Behind The Counter are both in their late twenties. They're talking about girls. Apparently, C1 has had some pretty crazy relationships in the past, and Angela hasn't called him in a week. I notice that one thing all of his relationships have in common is that "nothing was ever written in stone." Opon any lengthy exegesis of his past interpersonal misfortunes, he usually admits that they'd been talking for awhile, had been on a few dates, so on. It was really obvious that these dates were about as hot as going to the movies with your grandma. The funny thing is that GBTC, usually affable & friendly, is kind of on the ropes because he doesn't pretend to date. GBTC responds to C1's boasts by saying "there you go." At first, because he was uncomfortable on a subtle distracted level, and then, as it became painfully obvious that C1 is full of shit and was just friends, if that, with these girls, it was because he was really trying to let the guy know that he was being taken with a deerlick sized grain of salt. There you go. There you go. Occasionally, he'd pepper it a little bit to keep his vocal loop from being boring and unfun. Yep... There you go. It was killing me. I kept waiting for him to look to me as the straight man in our unconscious comedy duo of which only I was aware. GBTC'd stretch out the pauses and affect the inflection until he assumed this larger-than-life Shatnerian Kabuki posture. I felt his Nerd Power growing as this exchange between himself and the overenthusiastic imp and his hilarious bullshit went on and on. Huh! GBTC spit out that bemused little snort like an exhausted bull Bison huffing out steam. The lock eyes. The room stops, and I am fascinated... trying to look at some nearly wordless graphic novel about a Russian guy with jagged rictus scrawled from cheek-to-cheek. There you go... I guess. C1 had just said "I don't buy whiskey because I'll just drink the whole bottle myself. I don't even use a chaser. I'm just like AAAAAAaaahhh. It just doesn't even get me drunk." Everyone knows that a six-pack lasts this guy two weeks, and his Dad drinks the last few. GBTC just brought the smackdown. It was so light and graceful, because GBTC hadn't cared a little bit for a long time. There you go... I guess. With that, C1 went. It wasn't anything that C1 could have grabbed onto. It was a friendly way of winning without participating. C1 jaust gave up the ghost, and GBTC did it with the flick of a finger. Checkmate.
After C1 left, I felt like GBTC and I were just going to be friends. Nah. He kept sitting at his computer, doing his thing. I bought my comic and smiled on my way to the car.


That got me thinking about how so many romances are deviod of honesty anymore. I feel like men hate women because they're terrified that the women might leave, and women hate men because they're pretty sure they're going to do so. I've been thinking alot lately about what relationships in my life are healthy. I don't want to be an oblivious and cocky bullshitter, least of all to myself. I know I've been less than awesome, but at least I'm working on it. Me and GBTC are certainly as jealous and selfish and petty and unsettled as C1, but we've been outside the house and gotten a good look at it, at least. C1 is never going to come up for air, especially if he keeps drinking Whiskey like that.

The Limp Pulse of Amish Country's near-still heart

It really felt like summer today. I just got pro/de-moted at work. I'm officially big shit in a small warehouse. Someone kill me... nyhow, I got the job because the BillyHill that I (used to) work with up and quit. I'll miss what he's given me. It's all because of him that I now know all of the words to the 12-15 songs that are rotated ad infinitum on Contemporary Country Radio Stations. I heard a song that included the line, "She thinks my tractor's sexy" in the chorus. Are they retarded? I don't mean mentally challenged. That's different. The people who dig this shit are retarded. To top it off, people call in and request songs that they've played every 16 1/2 minutes since six in the morning. Today, it was just me, and I brought in a few CDs. To start, Carla Kihlstedt & 2 Foot Yard. Sh's orked with everyone from Tom Waits to Derek Bailey. I know... 'Nuff Said! In addition to that, Mz. Kihlstedt is a founding member of Sleepytime Gorilla Museum, Tin Hat Trio, and Charming Hostess.
If you like her stuff, then I recommend Jewlia Eisenberg's Trilectic. You can find out all about her throught the Charming Hostess site.


2 Foot Yard was released on Tzadik's Oracles series. The series is devoted exclusively to female musicians working in "new" musics. As it stands, I usually am thoroughly impressed with the musicality of all the Oracles releases. Tzadik releases always have merit and integrity, but they get a little avant and squeaky sometimes, and I'm not always in that mood. I don't know what elses to say about 2 foot yard, other than that I absolutely fucking love this album, and you should buy it.
Then, as a salve to follow Kihlstedt's aural sorbet; The Chosen Few Live In Miami. OOOweee. It's Jamaican soul with KC & the Sunshine Band. Go ahead and knock it. Make all the "Play that funky music, Clear Boy" jokes that you want, but this album has filled my airspace. Oh yeah, Fuck you! I like KC & the Sunshine Band.


For a digestif, I went for Dillinger Escape Plan's Miss Machine Album. Turn your speakers down before you click that one.


The vocalist kind of jocks Mike Patton's style (not a short list), but he does it well and inventively. Plus, they rock.
Well Cats & Kittens, I could write all night, but I've got to hang out with Hammerhands for his 29th Birthday.

Lombardo Beats, Batman

Bother #5 pulled my coat about this DJ Spooky vs. Dave Lombardo.



A comic book shop opened up down the street from me. I got to talking with the owner about the new Wonder Woman Movie that's coming out.


Rumor has it that Joss Whedon was going to cast Charisma Carpenter of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. Frankly, I've never watched the show, but I've heard good things from pretty reliable geeks. Supposedly, she can't do it now, because she posed for Playboy. It got me thinking that a Wonder Woman spread in would have satisfied my depraved 13 year old mind like nothing else. In that vein...



Uh... Yeah. Now that I've shared way too much about my Junior High Brain, I think I'll go take a shower and go to Olive Garden, the best Italian restaurant in Amish Country.

Public Art

This Guy blows my mind. This work was done with chalk on a flat sidewalk!!!

The spectrum of unauthorized stuff is pretty wide.

I draw skulls playing banjos everywhere across Amish country. I need to scan some stuff by Amor Loco to display. He's got the mad kung-fu handstyle.


Now do your own.

I never watch SNL

I was hanging out at Kellie's on Saturday, and actually sat through an episode. Just like everytime I've watched it since the 6th grade, a few chuckles, but mostly just a big drag. The main chuckle came when Ashton Kutcher did a CK ad as Kevin Federline. I've been walking around saying, "Federline, Yo!" since I saw it. Federline, Yo!

Elsewhere

Breakdancing swept Amish country when I was just a wee lad. Try as I might, I only mastered the worm. I saw a clip of this kid, Elsewhere, doing the robot a few years ago. He's only gotten better. He even did a VW commercial. Maybe they'll make Nick Drake breakdance in the next one.

Tom Waits' Top 20 Albums

I'm such a slut for his music, that I have to get all of these on vinyl now... I need to buy 3, excepting the CD only stuffis. (Link ala Fiddlah)

Yo-Laina

I got en e-mail from Ms. YoLaina today. She's always a ray of sunshine in my gloomy midwestern saltmine world. How cool is she? This cool.




















We also both have a little problem with a drug that's black and shiny...



You know what I'm talking about. Plus, whenever I'm down she drops some badasssss collage and a present tied to 100 kind words.
.

, And she rocks.











So... Accolades to the Yo for cheering me up tonight. I had been fixin' to thinkin' about drinkin', but now I think I'm going to drive to Gary with a gut full of Mescaline and without pants, which reminds me that I need to find a halloween costume.



I'm just kidding. I hate Gary. 'There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge," unless he's in MJ's hometown.


I think James Brown all upgefuckt is funny, and it reminds me of cool luggage. Who am I to chuckle at him when he used to be soooo cool, but then again...


it's strange to think that, at one point and time, Michael Jackson was universally beloved.

I don't know anyone of my generation that didn't at least entertain the fancy of buying that jacket from Thriller.



Oh how the mighty have fallen! I wouldn't be surprised to see either one of them feeding an ice cream cone to a dog in one of my bad dreams. I need to make a visit to my ol' galpal soon. She's on of those folks that you don't know how much they feed who you are until they've been gone for a minute, and your tolerance gets all low, like with the booze, and all. She just makes 8 bucks feel like a million.


Oh! She is the original bongo player for shark-in-the-boat.



They're the noisical equivalent of those martial arts competitions held by manaical criminal masterminds held on secluded island bases populated by a secret army wose sole purpose is total world domination. I think they're Australian. My friend saw them play in a bathroom once, and totally shit himself, which sucked, because he was wearing sweat pants with elastic around the ankles. The crowd, quickly realizing that he's walking around calf-deep with a swishing reservoir of yuck, shriek, and establish a 6 1/2 foot perimeter with the single-mindedness of a flock of minnows. He's trapped and encircled like they're going to have a dogfight. Pulling out his waistband to inspect the damage only serves to further upset his karmic balance and forces him to vomit gut-warm beer and 2 scotch eggs... right into the aforementioned sweatpants...
OK. It was me, and this made me want to do the whole thing over again. My friend Knuckles went out with that guy. You think that you know what a big tool is?


No, It's this guy.


I don't know what level of Maslow's hierarchy of needs trashing Danny-boy fulfills, but I think it's between 2 and 4. Meeee-ow.

The KRS-10

KRS-10 sent this one over. It made her feel scared and confused. I just kept thinking how cool the Japanese version of the Chicken Dance is.



I haven't been able to post for a few days, so I've obviously got alot of Pingwins to get out of my system... I found all of these dancing Pingwins Here
I have to go back to the Old Saltmine for now.