Pod dunk.

Other alternatives, anyone? What would you do, Mitch? Well…. what the hell else is there to do? When faced with adversity, start a podcast.

Yeah, you heard me right. In the midst of preparing for Big Green’s [INSERT NAME HERE] Interstellar Tour 2011 and of being ejected from our home of nearly ten years (the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill), we’ve elected to launch a podcast. I know this sounds crazy, but … hear me out. The world is full of blowhards and know-nothings. Fact is, a lot of blowhards are know-nothings. So the harder we blow, the less we know – follow me? And if we don’t know we have problems, like impending eviction, for instance, well that’s almost like not having any problems at all. An elegant solution, and it costs next to nothing… or at least a good deal less than our legal counsel was planning on charging us. (Anti-Lincoln has some rapacious per diem rates, I’m here to tell you. Just watch your ass.)

Why do we spend so much energy on pointless pursuits such as this? Because they are there, that’s why. Would Sir Edmond Hillary climb that enormous hill-ary if it hadn’t been there? Certainly not. We create the podcast … and the other thing … not because they are easy, but because they are hard. What do I mean – not sure. But it may make its way into my first inaugural, or into Anti-Lincoln’s third inaugural (once removed). He’s always looking for new material. Not sure why he’s looking here, but… I digress.

Fact is, no, the podcast is not all we’ve been up to. Fact is, we’re recording songs again, filling the hours between forays into the outer reaches of the galaxy in search of lucrative performance opportunities. We’re patching together new takes of older songs in the Big Green catalog – songs from beyond time, as it were. Lots of ’em. My method is simple. I have Matt pull out his various guitars and play them into a microphone. I press one button when he starts and another when he’s finished. That’s what we call “collaboration”. Try it sometime, Monty.

All right, actually, I am doing parts as well, and Marvin (my personal robot assistant) is putting down some scratch rhythm tracks. (They sound very scratchy, actually. I think he needs a little oil.) Still, while we’re doing that, go and check out our podcast. Be sure to block your eyes – it’s an audio podcast.

Cash poor.

Americans are hurting. Well… not all of us. Some of us – those who can claim the mantle of corporate “personhood” by virtue of a bizarrely generous judicial interpretation of the 14th Amendment –  are doing quite well, thank you very much. Profits are up, executive pay is up, personal wealth among the top 1% is up – in fact, virtually all of the gains realized through economic growth over the past ten years have been enjoyed by the very wealthy. This while the economic position of people in the lower strata of society – particularly communities of color – have seen what wealth they may have held (principally in their homes) wiped out. Blacks and Latinos have seen the gains of the past 30 years wiped away in less than 3.

With millions of people out of work, you would think Congress’s top priority would be job creation. That was what they ran on in 2010, not so much on debt reduction. The best the G.O.P. can manage is to twist the issue around to becoming a tortured argument for doing what the party always does – cut taxes on rich people. They want to allow rich folk to keep more of their money so that they will, in turn, hire some of the legions of unemployed. They cling to this belief, rhetorically at least, even when it’s clear that a) businesses already have multiple trillions in savings they are sitting on right now, and b) they have no intention of spending any of it on new hires so long as they can press their current employees to do the work of three, four, perhaps more. Ask anybody who’s got a job, and they’ll tell you – increased productivity is just the modern term of art for speeding up the assembly line.

Meanwhile, our national infrastructure is falling apart. Bridges in my upstate community are aged and crumbling, the water system is falling apart, roads are pitted and broken. With all this, the word that we get from Albany and Washington is austerity. It’s as if we have as a society decided that roads and bridges no longer need maintenance and repair, and that our highest calling is to keep taxes on companies and well-off people at historic lows. The vaunted debt ceiling compromise takes this tack – we don’t need to invest in ourselves, we’re told; we need to divest ourselves of all the trappings of modern society, from freedom of choice and to the freedom of driving downtown without having the highway crumble beneath you. That’s the essential philosophy of the tea party loomers in Congress.

This is what happens when 16% of American voters bother to go to the polls, as happened last Fall. Next time, folks, don’t sit on your hands.

luv u,

jp

Out of mind.

Okay, so let me get this straight. We go to court and plead our case. The judge motions to the guy in the hood, and they take us away in chains. Got it. Any other options?

Oh, hi. Yeah, we’re working with our legal advisor – a mouthpiece named Anti-Lincoln, esq. And as you can see, he’s helping us out with our recent eviction notice. Not the first time, you understand, that we’ve been asked to vacate the premises. More than once the folks down at city hall have reminded us that this building is SUPPOSED to be vacant. Seems a waste to us, but what do we know? The abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill is abandoned for a reason, even if we don’t know what that reason is. Freaks! They didn’t even sweeten the deal with a grace period; just “Out, already!”

I know what you’re probably saying right now. You’re saying, “That Big Green,” says you, “they are totally out of their tiny minds.” And that’s where you make the big mistake: referring to our tiny minds as more than one thing. In actuality, together our brains make up one mind. That’s why we know what the other person is going to do wrong before he goes and does it wrong. We are the collective mind of Big Green. Or at least that’s what I tell the tax assessor when she comes a-knocking. Try it sometime – it totally freaks them out.

Trouble is, we are also a collective wallet. And if I were to choose with whom to share a wallet, it would not be this troop of losers and miscreants. God knows, every time I get my hands on some legal tender it evaporates into thin air, snatched up by the claw of a Marvin (my personal robot assistant) or the twig of a man-sized tuber or the spotted hand of a man named Lincoln. It’s a kleptocracy here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, or at least effectively so. No one subscribes to the notion of private property. I’m surrounded by collectivists! What’s mine is mine, what’s yours is mine – that’s their motto. And me, a mere anarcho-syndicalist. What defense hath the likes of I?

Okay, well…. I’ve run off at the mouth a bit, not even getting around to mention Big Green’s upcoming [INSERT NAME HERE] Interstellar Tour 2011. Some publicist I turned out to be. Got to stop typing so I can motion to my counsel.

Weird ass music since 1986