Total recall.

No, no. Good monster. You don’t want to kill your benefactor, do you? Here … have some more porridge, there’s a good chap. (Hoo boy.)

Oh, hi. Yep, that’s right; I’m in the process of talking down one of Mitch Macaphee’s greatest creations (at least in his own estimation). Yes, it seems that Freakenstein, once set loose by Dr. Macaphee, did a tear around the neighborhood, pulling up lamp posts, opening fire hydrants, and generally making a nuisance of himself. He went into the local pawn shop and got a few items out of hock – items he, of course, had no personal connection with (since he was only just invented and has never known the joys of personal property) but nonetheless liked anyway. What did he use for money? No cash needed … when you’re Freakenstein.

Okay, so … predictably, the complaints start rolling in from all over town. And it’s clear that we need to do something about this. It was a bit like when Big Zamboola first got here and started throwing his hyper-energized magnetic fields all over the place. Or like Matt’s used vegetable stand (every item guaranteed recovered from passing produce trucks).  What do those things have in common? Not much, except the fact that people complained mightily about them. That’s what happened with Freakenstein, prompting us to ask Mitch to call his sorry ass back to the mill.

Well, so Mitch deputized Marvin (my personal robot assistant) and put him on the task. He was clever enough to fire up Trevor James Constable’s orgone generating device and point it in the general direction of the monster. Well, land o’ goshen, that worked like laying out breadcrumbs – he just followed that beam right back here, his arms loaded with ill-gotten swag (mostly from the pawn shop), some worn-looking Bean boots on his oversized paddles. Now it falls to me to talk him out of trashing the mill … even worse than it’s trashed now, that is. And hell, he’s feisty. (I don’t mean he likes listening to Feist, either. Literalist.)

Well, somehow in the midst of all this pointless activity, I had time to post another episode of our podcast, THIS IS BIG GREEN, now available on iTunes. Check it out, manzie. And keep an eye on your fire hydrants. Never know.

Go, Dick.

This is going to be brief. My back is a disaster area today, and that’s no Jonathan Harris imitation.

I was listening to President Obama speaking at the NATO summit this past week, talking about ending the Afghan War “responsibly”. And I had this impulse to say, “Thanks, Nixon!” Back in the day, old Dick was winding down his war, so to speak, standing up a colonial army (the ARVN – south Vietnamese army) and always talking about “peace with honor” after nearly a decade of mindless slaughter. They were fighting “terrorists” as well – just look at Life magazine or some other news publication from the late 1960s and you’ll see that that was one of the terms they used to describe the Viet Cong (NLF). Not so different.

Except that it was actually more brutal, as brutal and ugly as the Afghan war has been and continues to be. Vietnam and more generally Indochina was almost totally destroyed during the American war there, particularly from 1962 forward. People are still being killed by that war, by virtue of tons of unexploded ordinance, Agent Orange hotspots all over the south, and more. I don’t want to minimize that fact. For every drone strike Obama launches, there were likely 1,000 sorties over Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia dropping high explosives, napalm, and cluster bombs by the ton. The fact that this likely would not be tolerated today speaks to a gradual increase in our collective humanity. If anything constrains our leaders, it’s that.

Still, even within these constraints, we can do a lot of damage. The drone strikes are a very easy option for the administration. It’s a political winner, since American lives are not put in jeopardy, and it has the vague perception of accuracy going for it, though our targets have very little to say on the subject (because they are, of course, dead). It is a very corrosive weapon, though, on both legal and moral grounds, and it is likely causing a great deal more hatred of the United States than could be propagated by the likes of those we are targeting. Like Nixon’s (and LBJ’s) Vietnam war, it is approached as a project of eliminating the “bad guys” so that there will be fewer of them. That, of course, does not work and never will. Aside from being wrong, it is strategically stupid, and it is putting us in greater danger with every attack.

Still, the alternative to our little Nixon is Reagan on steroids – a Romney administration following a neocon-powered foreign policy, with multiple additional wars on tap. That being the case, well… Nixon’s the one.

luv u,

jp

Freakenstein.

I know. I shouldn’t have interrupted him with my petty complaints. He’s a mad scientist, not a T.V. and stereo repair man. My bad, totally. Dude.

Oh, yes… that’s right. We are not the only ones reading this. Sorry out there in the blogosphere. Big Green is in the midst of a band meeting of sorts. No, we don’t typically do these. Like most groups, we all live together in our funky (i.e. “groovy”) musician bachelor pad, with the retro sixties modular furniture and gooseneck lamps of the type you might find in Darrin Stevens’ house (assuming he actually had a house and not just a set that is, in essence, a house sawed in half). My point is…. um … (yes… it was a house sawed in half, perhaps by some kind of witchcraft, or … craft services….) Damn it!

Okay, I’ll stay on point. We’re meeting about that thing, that bloodthirsty killer. No, not “The Thing”, as in the sci-fi movie “The Thing”. I mean the thing that Mitch Macaphee created in his spare time. He was working on it last week when I tried to pull him off so he could fix our monitor power amp. Simple work for a genius, right? I mean, he freaking invented Marvin (my personal robot assistant) using spare parts, bailing wire, etc.  Well, he had some more spare parts and, as I said, some spare time, and …. well … he invented some kind of killin’ machine.

What is it called? You may well ask. After all, how else are you going to avoid it, right? Mitch isn’t really good at names. I mean, we call it Freakenstein, but that’s just because we’re not really good at names either. Only Mitch can control it; only he can call it back. But Mitch is like the stereotypical insurance salesman of mad scientists. Once he sells a policy, you never hear from him again. That’s the way Mitch works. He builds something, sets it loose on an unsuspecting public, and then forgets about it. On to the next thing. And if it goes on a mad rampage, well… that’s as it may be.   

How can you protect yourself? Well… I asked Mitch, and the only thing that will ward Freakenstein off is that helmet Mr. Spock wears – you know the one. You saw it in the Montgomery Ward Christmas catalog every year, right? Well…. should’ve asked Santa for it back in 1967, because that’s the thing that scares the fertilizer out of Freakenstein.  

 Okay…. band meeting over. I move to adjourn. Anyone second? Freakenstein seconds. Meeting is adj….   FREAKENSTEIN?!?

Weird ass music since 1986