All posts by Joseph

Hard feelings.

Hey, what can I tell you? I didn’t intend to piss him off, guys. Not my intention at all. Nor was it my intention to destroy the planet Jupiter. Furthest thing from my mind.

Oh, hi. Just caught me in the middle of a little band meeting. (Bret? Here. Jermaine? Here. Murray? Here.) I’m being raked over the coals by my fellow Big Green members and our various hangers on – Mitch Macaphee (our mad science adviser), Lincoln, anti-Lincoln, Marvin (my personal robot assistant), the man-sized tuber… even Big Zamboola has chimed in. What’s the “issue”, as they say? Oh, hell… it’s about our perennial sit-in guitarist from the planet Zenon, sFshzenKlyrn. He’s been a house guest here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill for the past week or so. That is to say, he was our guest, up until he departed yesterday in a bit of a Zenite huff. (How do I know? His radioactive vapor trail was tinged orange around the edges. Sure sign.)

So, why the hurried departure? Was he on his way to, I don’t know, Joseph A. Bank to get two free suits after buying one overpriced suit? No, no, nothing like that. It’s down to me, I’m afraid. One of those obscure cultural faux pas you run into when dealing with the denizens of another galaxy – kind of like showing the soles of your feet to an Iraqi. I insulted sFshzenKlyrn in some way, apparently, when I turned down his generous offer of Zenite snuff. I believe that, combined with a hand gesture I made involuntarily, is the equivalent of telling a Zenite that his specific gravity is roughly equivalent to that of Yak dung.  (For those of you who are unfamiliar with Zenite etiquette, that is considered a particularly grave insult.)

sFshzenKlyrn left in a cloud of radioactive dust. I imagined he was going straight home, using his typical method of traveling between the dimensional layers of the wobbly thing we call reality. Not so. I guess he was a little madder than he looked, because he felt the need to act out his anger. And he did this by driving straight into the planet Jupiter, causing a bit of a disturbance. (I’m told he did that one time before, some few years back. Left a bit of a red spot, as I recall.) What this has meant to the inhabitants of Jupiter I do not know, though I suspect we will hear about it the next time we go on interstellar tour. (Late this summer, I believe. Stay tuned!) It did, however, cause quite a stir back home here, with people calling it a dramatic collision, a missile, an asteroid, and so on.

Nah. Just a pissed off Zenite guitarist, that’s all. And from the ‘splosion he created, I guess his specific gravity must be quite a bit greater than that of Yak dung after all. Whoops! Sorry, sFshzenKlyrn!    

Hammered.

Now, I try not to rant too hard on Krauthammer, but he’s leaving me no choice. A couple of weeks ago it was the oil spill in the Gulf. That was the fault of environmentalists, by the way. (You didn’t know there were environmentalists working at B.P. or in the Minerals Management Service, did you?) Krauthammer’s argument on that score was essentially, shit happens – oil drilling is risky, get used to it. Moreover, those pesky greens made the government prohibit “safe” drilling on land and in remote places like the Alaska Wildlife Reserve, forcing those poor oil companies far out to sea and into deep water drilling in the Gulf. They couldn’t help it – the greens made them do it!  How else are they going to make piles of money other than by weaseling their way around our porous minerals management regulations and knowingly putting the entire southern coastline of the United States at risk? Oh, the awesome power of environmentalists! How the government and the oil industry cowers in their shadow! 

That was the last dose of goofiness. The most recent one was on Israel’s attack on a Turkish relief ship heading for Gaza, during which the IDF killed 9 people on board. Of course, in Krauthammer’s view, the attack was completely justified, taking up the usual line that the Israeli government has been following – Hamas has fired 6,000 or 7,000 rockets into Israel. Leaving aside the omission of any accounting of Israeli munitions fired at Gazans over a comparable period (with much greater human effect), Krauthammer proceeded to defend not only Israel’s blockade, but its occupation of all of the territories it seized in 1967 (including the Sinai) and its occupation of southern Lebanon for almost twenty years. You see, these were not occupations but forward defensive positions. Even long after anything that might be realistically termed a standoff or state of war existed between Israel and its immediate neighbors Egypt, Jordan, or Lebanon. So that should clear THAT up.

Also…  there is no humanitarian crisis in Gaza. This is one claim that is practically beyond comment. I suppose from his perspective – one of an individual who does not see Palestinians as human beings – the misery in Gaza probably wouldn’t seem like a humanitarian disaster. (What humans, right?) He also equates the blockade to that used by the allies against Nazi Germany and Japan during World War II. This is a comparison worthy of the fevered imagination of Glenn Beck – equating a powerless, virtually weaponless rump state like Gaza with two of the most powerful imperial military machines of the 1930s. In fact, a Nazi comparison would be much more appropriate for Krauthammer’s own comments. I imagine, for instance, that Goebbels would have no problem describing the invasion of Czechoslovakia as “forward-based defense.”

I’ve said it before, and it’s worth saying again. How the hell is it that a guy who’s been so bloody wrong over the years remains a published commentator in newspapers across the country, on television, and on the web? Send your answers here, friends.

luv u,

jp

Noise on.

Turn it on, the fan. The BIG fan. Broken? Okay, then turn it on, the smaller fan. No smaller fan? What the hell. Right. Then just turn it on, the radio.

Another hot one here at the Cheney Hammer Mill. Global warming at work, no doubt. Whatever the cause, it’s sweltering in here. I spent the morning hanging my head into the primitive air shaft at the center of this unused pile of industrial masonry – it seemed strangely airless. That’s why I’m asking Marvin (my personal robot assistant) to break out the fans. It’s times like this when any performer turns to his/her biggest fans. (Boom-crash!) How are ya, how are ya, how are ya! Anybody from Detroit in the audience tonight? Anybody? You in the back? There you are. Gotta’ love the motor city!

Ooops. Heat prostration briefly turned me into a Borscht Belt comedian. (Shecky Green, perhaps.) Must be incoherent thinking that Marvin would help me out, considering how I failed him last week during the inaugural performance of Marvin and the Lawn Robots. What’d I do? Rather ask what I did not do. What I did not do was anything right, that’s what I did … not. I twiddled all the wrong knobs on the board. (At one point, they had no top end at all. Later on, it was “generation reverb” time.) I pointed the lights in the wrong direction. I overloaded the mains so that by the end of the night they sounded like king size kazoos. (Rented, too. Good grief.) And I assigned the door to some straggler who – surprise, surprise – walked off with Marvin’s $57 take for the evening. WHERE DID I GO RIGHT?

I have an excuse, though not a very good one. Just the night before, our beloved sit-in guitarist from the planet Zenon sFshzenKlyrn dropped in on us quite unexpectedly with a rather large poke of Zenite snuff. I partook of the, ahem, aid to digestion rather liberally before collapsing into my distressed Army cot sometime before 2:00 a.m. I suppose you could say I was a little worse for wear the following night – not unexpected by any means. Disappointing for the mechanical men, however. Their little shoulders were slumped as they watched me load the van. One of them started rotating at one point, his phony machine guns a-blazing with incandescent rage. Sad scene.

So my calls to Marvin, understandably, go unanswered today. He’ll get over it, I expect. But what of the lawn robots?