Category Archives: Usual Rubbish

Usual Rubbish

Letters home.

Haven’t you finished that symphony yet? Well, get going. You’ve got a piano concerto to write as well. Don’t hurry or anything …. it’s due to the publisher on Friday. That’s today.

Man, some of these deadlines are hard to meet, particularly when you’re living in a crowded, leaky potting shed in the courtyard of your former sqauthouse, the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill. We’re just trying to keep the ship afloat here, folks, and to do so we cannot limit ourselves to any single genre of music. That’s why I have Marvin (my personal robot assistant) composing music for hire. This week he’s working on modern classical music … long hair stuff. Marvin knows what that’s all about. I plugged a Classical Gas album into his tape drive.

With all the disruption, you’d think our mail wouldn’t find us, but never underestimate the power of mail carriers to find their target. They dropped us a parcel of letters, postcards, and newsletters as thick as your ass. And as I was sorting through this bounty, I found a missive from one of our closest neighbors. In fact, it was from the very people who kicked us out of our beloved hammer mill. At first I was reluctant to open the letter, as I thought it might be booby trapped with gelled explosives or one of those greeting card sound chips playing Yakety Sax. (I think I might slightly prefer the explosives.)

Is that for me? Holy cats.

What did the letter say? Aw, not much. They asked if we were liking the potting shed as much as they liked sending us there. I thought that was sweet. They also invited us to share favorite recipes that include ingredients we left behind in the hammer mill kitchen. I’m sending them a dog-eared copy of the Natural Chef by Gilbert Humvee.  It’s got some of my favorites in it. Now, I know you’re probably thinking I’m being too indulgent with our belligerent hammer mill usurpers, but never fear. The Natural Chef by Gilbert Humvee doesn’t really exist, and neither does Gilbert Humvee. It’s just our way of being neighborly.

I can’t wait to write back to Otis, Marjory, and Kirsten. (Those are the new squatters). I feel I could call them by name now when they kick me out. There’s a lot of love here!

Usual Rubbish

Banjo doorstop.

I feel a draft. Don’t you feel a draft, Marvin (my personal robot assistant)? Oh, right. I forget you’re made of brass and polystyrene. What about you, mansized tuber? Oh, right. You’re a plant. Guess it’s just a “me” thing.

Well, we knew it would be difficult to spend nights out in the courtyard of the Cheney Hammer Mill, our erstwhile squat house. Not that that place was insulated and tight as a drum. Quite the contrary. But at least there were places deep inside the mill where you couldn’t see sunlight. Can’t say the same for this potting shed. It’s got more holes than a North Dakota oil field. And it’s twice as greasy. When the wind blows, it whistles. (Or maybe Anti-Lincoln whistles … not sure.)

Yes, we’ve had to make do in a lot of ways since moving out of the dump into this wreck of a shack, driven from our home by some drunken upstairs neighbors who hate our freedoms. (Like the freedom to live undisturbed in a hammer mill … one of our most CHERISHED freedoms.) Refrigeration is a bit of an issue, for instance. We thought about using a styrofoam cooler packed with ice, but we didn’t have any ice and …. well … we didn’t have a cooler, so we just put the perishables in the middle of the floor and waved fans at them. Turns out there’s a reason why they call them perishables. Who knew?

Hey, Abe! We found a use for that thing!

About the only customized feature on this shack is a spring-loaded door that slams closed every time you pass through it. It’s a bit problematic when it comes to carrying gear in and out, so we quickly decided to prop it open with something handy. And since the only personal belongings we’ve been able to retrieve from the mill are musical instruments, we had to decide which instrument was  expendable enough to be used as a doorstop. My vote was for the accordion, but the front-runners were banjo and bagpipes. Banjo won the final run-off, much to the chagrin of Anti-Lincoln, who has been known to pluck the gut bucket from time to time.

Just as well. If we’d used either the accordion or the bagpipes, every time we closed the door, either one would make its signature sound. Sure, you’d know when somebody enters the place … but then you know anyway, because it’s a POTTING SHED, for crying out loud.

Usual Rubbish

Inside August (2019).

Sure, it’s hard to put out a podcast when you’re sleeping in a potting shed. But hard shouldn’t stop you when there’s important work to be done. Unless it gets too hard. Then, well …. maybe you could do a blog post instead. Man … that’s roughing it.

Well, you may have already noticed, but our August 2019 installment of THIS IS BIG GREEN was posted this week, and unlike our July episode, this one includes Matt and a non-retread episode of Ned Trek. So if you scratched over the last TIBG, don’t miss this one. Here are some highlights:

Ned Trek 40: Day of the Dopes. Amazingly, we’ve reached the fortieth episode of our Star Trek political parody space opera. This episode is adapted from the classic Star Trek script, “Day of the Dove”, with not unexpected modifications and substitutions. Look for bad imitations of Bill and Hillary Clinton as well as other fripperies.

Put The Phone Down. We talked another green streak this time out, touching on fledgling falcons, turtle eggs, Monte Markham and Frank Zappa, among other things. Matt and I also take a moment to revisit the racist cartoons of our youth, from wartime Popeye to Johnny Quest. Quite an upbringing we had, right?

Song: Pagan Christmas, by Big Green. A selection off of our first album, 2000 Years To Christmas. It’s a rocking little number that I want my jockey to play. (Oh, wait … that’s another song. This one is about Christmas dinner.) Big favorite among the wiccan community, so we hear.

Prepare to launch podcast!

Song: For Your Majesty’s Amusement, by Big Green. This is one of the tracks off of our second album, International House. Kind of a subversive take on royalty of all descriptions, inspired in part by a scene from the movie Orlando. Any song that ends with people carrying torches has to have something going on, right?

Song: The Bishop, by Big Green. One of my favorite tracks from International House. I can tell Matt mixed this one, because it sounds pretty good. What is so important? Ask the Bishop.

Song: Aw Shoot, by Big Green. We’ve played this number from our third album, Cowboy Scat, before on the podcast. It’s partly inspired by the theme song from the bizarre-ass caveman movie Yor: Hunter of the Future. We do pretty bad Scandinavian accents, as you’ll hear.

Song: Box of Crackers, by Big Green. While it never appeared on one of our albums, Box of Crackers started life as a Christmas song, then morphed into something else. It’s a close relative of our song One Small Step in that they were originally produced as part of the same project. A period piece to be sure, but it still has some relevance re “Kentucky Mitch”.