Archive for May, 2014

Here Goes Nothing

May 29th, 2014

Former Microsoft CEO Steve Ballmer agreed to pay $2 billion for the Los Angeles Clippers on Thursday, a person familiar with the situation told USA TODAY Sports on Thursday, which stands to be the most ever paid for an NBA franchise.


(NBA Commissioner Adam) Silver announced on April 29 that he would force a sale of the Clippers after Sterling was heard in an audio recording making racist remarks about African-Americans in a private conversation with his companion, V. Stiviano. The recording was leaked months later to the gossip site TMZ, prompting Silver to ban Sterling for life and fine him $2.5 million.




Okay, here goes nothing.


Please don’t let black people read this blog.


I really don’t want black people associated with this blog. I mean, 100% of all writers are white men. There’s a reason for that.’s very existence disenfranchises minority writers.


If you see an African-American looking at this website on their laptop, please take their laptop away and type in a different address. Smack the smartphone out of their hands. You can feed them, fuck them, take pictures with them and put them on your Instagram, I don’t give a shit but please don’t let them anywhere near this website.


Especially Magic Johnson, that garbage dick motherfucker.




I am willing to sell for no less than three thousand dollars.


May 29th, 2014

Kickstarter loves it when a Zach Braff, Amanda Palmer, or Spike Lee comes around and helms a crowd-funding project.

They love it when a celebrity-helmed project comes around and raises a lot of money. The latest is Burton’s attempt to bring Reading Rainbow to the Internet, which has raised over $2 million so far.


Kickstarter gets a percentage of successfully funded project money. If you were them what would you be hoping would reach its’ goal: the Zach Braff million-dollar-movie or the local band that needs a thousand dollars to put out a vinyl album or something.


I’m not going to pretend they don’t want the local band to get its’ thousand dollars or whatever, but they REALLY want the celeb projects to hit their goal. LeVar Burton is in the news again because of his attempt to bring back his famous show and again because backers have smashed his intended goal. When’s the last time anybody gave a damn about LeVar Burton? They don’t. The story is about Kickstarter.


Kickstarter is going to end up with about ten percent of the money when a project is funded. When the Technology Vs. Horse 7″ single was funded, we raised a measly $543 dollars and Kickstarter held it in escrow until they gave us our piece and we got $490. If LeVar Burton stopped the funding today (he has thirty-three days left), Kickstarter would clear nearly a quarter of a million.


Some people are complaining about celebrities using crowd-funding but this is the reality we have to deal with. There will be more Spike Lee’s out there. They keep the lights on, they keep the bills paid. Those of us down here have to fight it out. Not with each other but with them. This is the literal marketplace of ideas.

Things You Can Do Instead Of Shooting People

May 28th, 2014

Long Title: Things You Can Do Instead Of Shooting People Because They Won’t Have Sex With You Or Whatever Totally Valid, Reasonable Excuse You Have (Sure). . . a partial list.


1. Go to Japan.

2. Make and eat a sandwich.

3. Adopt a cat.

4. Abandon the cat you just adopted (j/k)

5. Take pictures of your adopted cat in funny costumes.

6. Run the can opener for a while.

7. Consider the feelings of others.

8. LARPing.

9. Talk about going to Burning Man, but not actually go to Burning Man.

10. Wait for the next census form.

11. Massage your temples.

12. Make up mean nicknames for people you don’t like.

13. Make racist comments online then be surprised when they are traced back to you.

14. Stop to smell some roses.

15. Start a podcast.

16. Close your podcast because of backlash due to your racist commentary.

17. Explain your personal philosophy via Youtube comments.

18. Type in all caps. LIKE THIS.

19. Develop a blood clot.

20. Wear an oversized cowboy hat and call yourself “Tex”.

21. Try to develop compassion and empathy.

22. Attempt to take the long view.

23. Wonder about how other people are affected by you and your decisions.

24. Remember that you are not the center of the Universe, but you can tear a hole in it with destruction.

20th Century Literature Review (Part I)

May 28th, 2014

Post Office (1971) by Charles Bukowski. Post Office, Bukowski’s first long-form fiction work, is a thin novel and therefore easy to toss across a room. Most reprints are paperback so be careful not to bend the cover. This book is too impractical to kill flies and yet it is too small to kill animals of larger sizes.


Hell’s Angels: The Strange and Terrible Saga of the Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs (1966) by Hunter S. Thompson. Thompson’s first attempt at a non-fiction novel, this book can easily be found as a hardcover and is good to hit fat, pregnant bees with. Can be thrown at someone’s head to elicit slight damage. The dust jacket cannot be used as a strangling device.


Infinite Jest (1996) by David Foster Wallace. This 1000-plus page work can be used to mortally injure a squirrel. If you want to kill a squirrel and don’t have a thick hardcover reference book at hand, this dense novel will do in a pinch. Attempts to clobber a fully-grown human in the back of the head with this book have produced varying results.



Pacific Midwest

May 22nd, 2014

“With all the will in the world, diving for dear life when we could be diving for pearls” – Robert Wyatt, “Shipbuilding”


Yes, Andy. I’m well aware that Elvis Costello wrote “Shipbuilding”. Those are his words and I should probably credit him with the quote. But they came out of Robert Wyatt’s mouth first and best. Speaking of Robert Wyatt, here’s a guy who’s music sounds nothing like him. . . Andy Matter with his debut record, Pacific Midwest. But maybe the Elvis Costello thing might work here.



I don’t want this to be a review. But I think about local music and know that it always has a strike against it because its’ attempts at self-hype cannot compare to the big lie mass media techniques that are used to sell us Taylor Swift’s fragrance or Justin Bieber’s duct tape. This haunts me as a local musician, that I can pour my heart out onto a form of salable media for a more-than-fair price and people will half-ass a lie of how they don’t have any cash on them then go straight to the bar and plunk down a fiver for some swill. Thanks for telling me you liked the set, fuckface. Your kudos don’t mean shit anymore.


I’m gonna go back to the Elvis Costello thing because it might be apt just for their shared ability to cut a target down with lyrics. Righteous anger of a wronged man. The pinpoint fuck-you against the offending party. The economical way in which the message is delivered. The sharp, fast, loud, pop-punk-rock that sounds tight considering that Matter played the majority of the instruments.


There’s a heavy dose of pathos on Matter’s album. That’s the trade-off. When you’re hurt and you want to fight back, logic goes out the window. Even if you feel clearheaded, you’re just a spinning top knocking everything around you. At least its’ a decent soundtrack.


Right now I feel like A.J. Weberman. Pacific Midwest is available on Gubbey Records.

I Try To Help

May 22nd, 2014

from Yahoo Answers:

What happens to Tom and Daisy at the end of the Great Gatsby?


Okay… I couldnt finish the last chapter but I jeed these answers sorry please thanks—-Also what do gatsbys journal and what his father says show about gatsby?

What are Nicks plans now? What does he take one last look at? Importance of that?


Well, it goes like this.


After they get the diamonds, Tom and Daisy are chased by the police while driving in a fast convertible with the top down. In the middle of the desert, they decide they don’t want to live the rest of their lives in shackles and decide to gun it straight off a cliff. Here’s the heartbreaking part: they hold hands all the way down.


As for Gatsby’s father, well as you remember in chapter 6 he referred to him as a “gaywad who listens to Skynyrd 24/7” so this show that the man has a low opinion of southern rock music in general, which is a pretty sound policy unless we’re talking about Molly Hatchet or David Allen Coe.


Oh, and Nick? Don’t worry about Nick. Nick changes his name to Snidely Whiplash and moves to the Yukon to become a professional ne’er-do-well. He takes one last look at the mountie uniform that has been painted on the wooden indian in his salon. The significance of this is that he knows that he will meet his comeuppance at the end of a Canadian mountie with maple syrup where his precum should be.


I hope this helps. Happy reading and essaying.

Return From Oblivion

May 22nd, 2014

Chikara is coming back.


I have written extensively on this site about pro wrestling and my relationship to it as a fan. If you are a regular reader of this blog then you are probably familiar with some of the things that are going on in my life. I have gotten even closer to the morality play of ‘rasslin over the last year somehow. Life has turmoil in it. Perhaps I use wrestling as a beacon that maybe not just that good will triumph over evil but that happiness and joy will triumph over misery and darkness.


In June last year, Chikara’s online pay-per-view Aniversario:Never Compromise was disrupted. Nearing what was sure to be the end of the main event between Eddie Kingston and Icarus, a fleet of security dragged both men and the referee out of the ring, destroyed the set and shooed the audience out of the building. Chikara would be shut down for the better part of a year. Until this Saturday’s You Only Live Twice pay-per-view online, which will be the first Chikara event since that infamous shutdown.


And my question now is: Where were you when I needed you?


I got into Chikara a few years ago. When the company went dark, I felt like someone who discovered the Beatles for the first time but in 1968 and they break up eighteen months later. “Man, these guys are great. What do you mean they broke up?” I wanted to disappear into a world that they created. I wanted a temporary escape and they took it away from me. I tried to make do with other indie wrestling, which is always hit or miss. But Chikara wasn’t just a wrestling promotion. It was the place for me. Chikara made me so proud to be a wrestling fan. It was art, it was strange, it was hip and fun, and then it was gone.


I have listened to George Harrison sing “Beware Of Darkness”, but I can’t beware. It’s already engulfed me. Where were you when I needed you? I’m not the superfan who knew the history of the promotion and lorded that knowledge over newbies. I just had a tough year. Chikara was the happy place I could go to and then it wasn’t there anymore and I had to beg for it online with #IamChikara like a dog in some kennel because of some ARG for hardcores but maybe I’m not hardcore and I just wanted it all to come back because it was a distraction from my real-life problems. Where were you when I needed you?


Bulldoze The Bad Memories Away

May 21st, 2014

Lanhuck’s in Evansville collapsed the other day. Somebody ran their car into it and two days later it collapsed.


I feel bad for the guy who owned the place. He lived in an apartment above the bar. Now his place is going to be bulldozed entirely. Thirty years of life now gone forever.


Personally, I hated the place. I played there a million times over the years by myself and with Technology Vs. Horse. So many brain-scarring events in my adult life took place at that bar. How many naked breasts I saw that I never needed to see in that bar. The Jabba-The-Hutt-esque lady who sat topless playing video poker at the end of the bar because she had a chest rash and wanted to air it out. The grandmother with the pancake breasts who flashed me while I sang a T.Rex cover with Stationary Odyessy. The time the hobo bled on me. The time I drove the booker home and he began yelling racial slurs out the window while we were on the Lloyd. The time I played a show to two dozen Juggalos while wearing ICP makeup.  Did I mention that a hobo bled on me there? He couldn’t close his pocketknife so it cut his finger and he bled on me while telling me a story about extracting DMT.


I would consider it an honor to forget these things but I cannot. Many nights I paced up and down in that parking lot or on the sidewalk in front of the place going “what am I doing with my life?”


The Captain was an old guy who lived near the bar and he would drink in there every night. He looked like a cross between Gregg Allman and Edgar Winter and his favorite karaoke song was Prince’s “Pussy Control” and he wore tight jeans and looked to have a bearclaw stuffed down the front of them. He died a few years ago and the bar hung a picture of him on the wall. Now that place is gone to heaven to be with him.


RIP Lanhuck’s. You were a great place to have your hubcaps stolen.

Don’t Make Me Do That

May 20th, 2014

I don’t want to go back into a recording studio.




Please don’t make me go into a recording studio.  Please don’t make me stand in front of a microphone.




Please don’t make me try to sing in front of a microphone. Please don’t make me do a million takes.




Please don’t expect me to do a bunch of vocals in a few hours. Please don’t make me do this. It’s too tough. There’s way too much pressure on me. I don’t know what I want.




Please don’t ask me what I think. I don’t know which of these takes are better. They sound almost the same.




Please don’t ask me about the mix. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what to do. I don’t have any conviction. Can’t you just leave me alone?




I don’t want to record anymore. Please don’t try to make me go and help decide how things should sound. I hate making decisions.


I like playing music. I hate recording. Recording is like making music in an assembly line. 2902_11-e1340820594137

I am The Dancing Queen

May 20th, 2014

I am the dancing queen, according to ABBA.


You know what? I don’t care. I know it’s not about me. I wasn’t born when this song came out. But this song is about me. I am the dancing queen. I am the dancing queen, young and sweet. Only seventeen. I feel the beat of the tambourine.



I am going to tell you something. You are also the dancing queen.


Hey, goth girl with the cigarette burns on the inside of your thighs. . . YOU CAN DANCE, YOU CAN JIVE, HAVING THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE.


And you, Mr. truck driver with a heavy haul and a nose full of whatever came in that bottle you bought at the rest stop. You too CAN DANCE, you too CAN JIVE, you too CAN HAVE THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE. You are also the dancing queen. You and the goth girl with the cigarette burns who sold you the bottle.


Both the tea party extremist and the Salon commenter, you are the dancing queen. If you don’t believe for the four minutes that “Dancing Queen” that this song is not about you then you are oblivious to the world around you.


Deep down, we are all seventeen-year-old girls who want to dance. This is the thing that unites Sen. Mitch McConnell and Johnny Weir. This is the thing that I share with Kathie Lee Gifford. We’re the tease and we turn them on. We leave them burning and then we’re. . . gonnnnnnnneee.


On “Into The Groove”, the first words out of Madonna’s mouth were “you can dance” but she’s wrong. We can’t dance. We’re old and fat and have bad backs and hips. Life has taken us down a few pegs. We can’t even do tai chi with the homeless in the park, much less trip the light fantastic. But we are still the dancing queens, at least above the neck.



It's like they know I'm talking about them.

It’s like they know I’m talking about them.