Tag Archives: hammer mill

Usual Rubbish

Last minute waltz.


One-two-three, one-two-three, JUMP-two-three, one-two-three… Good, good – you’ve got it! Now try it again, from the top. And a-one-two-three…

Greetings from the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, a combination squat house, launch pad, recording studio, interstellar refugee center, and – now – dance studio! You heard me right. Sure, sure – no one in Big Green can dance his way out of a paper bag; this much is true. But needs dictate actions in this corner of the universe as well as in yours, and damn it, we need money to get this tour off the ground. So….. dance lessons. Administered by Marvin (my personal robot assistant), as it happens.

Oh, sure, laugh. You may laugh, but actually… he’s not as bad a dancer as you might imagine. In fact, he’s far worse than that. To observe that he is mechanical is less than surprising, I suppose. Actually, he’s kind of mechanical even for a robot. (He doesn’t do that robot dance any justice.) Fortunately, we live in an area where no one can dance, apparently (precious little reason to do so, as well), so Marvin can, simply by dint of his willingness to claim expertise, seem like an expert. Oh, the lengths money will drive a man (or an automaton) to. Sad.

Why are we so short on cash? Please! Aren’t we always? Think of the expenses we need to bear. Just keeping ourselves in Cheesits and crepe paper is enough to bankrupt any tycoon. And then there’s Anti-Lincoln’s odious absinthe habit. (Now I know why he spent so much time at the theater.) We’re just pouring money down the rat hole every day of our lives. And those rats are living pretty large, my friend, pretty large. Of course, now they have to share with our tour manager, Admiral Gonutz (ret.), who needs cash (and lots of it) to provision our ramshackle interstellar space craft.

So… I don’t care how poorly Marvin teaches the waltz. So long as his students pay their bills, we’re bleeping golden. ‘Nuff said.

Usual Rubbish

Launch menu.


Garbage out, garbage in. That’s how that saying goes, right? Backwards? Are you sure? ‘Cause around here, it’s garbage out, garbage in.

Well, friends, in preparation for our upcoming interstellar tour – ENTER THE MIND 2010: THE ULTIMATE BIG GREEN EXPERIENCE – we have hauled most of our moth-eaten possessions out to the curb (on Admiral Gonutz’s orders). We have also begun to rack up commitments in the outer reaches of our galaxy (some “stellar” venues among them, I should add. Heh. heh. heh.). And, perhaps (but likely not) most importantly, we have identified a rent-a-spacecraft to replace our long since repossessed Jupiter 2 imitation craft. And hey, that ship, she’s a beauty…. NOT.

I should mention here that when I showed a picture of this moth-eaten craft to Mitch Macaphee, our mad science advisor (and the guy who makes every gizmo run), he turned a distinctly whiter shade of pale. Inside his enormous, distended brain, no doubt, flashed images of sleepless hours coaxing the skow’s antiquated engines into action as we drift closer and closer to a neutron star. (Chilling indeed!) I’m not sure into what dark alley Admiral Gonutz ventured to find this twisted piece of unspaceworthy tin, but he needn’t have bothered dragging it out. In point of fact, he had Marvin (my personal robot assistant) do the actual dragging… but if he thinks Mitch is going to work on this sucker for free, there’s something stronger than Borkum Riff stuffed into that pipe of his.

Will we actually get anywhere in this ramshackle conveyance, now that we are but days away from our departure to the great unknown? This member of Big Green is doubtful. But what the hell, we’ve done worse over the course of our spotted career. Look at some of our past tours, and you’ll see what I’m talking about. Tacked-together technology, hastily arranged performances, hostile alien interlopers. What keeps us going back, you ask? (You didn’t ask? Well then, I have a question for you: Why didn’t you ask?) We don’t think about it too much, as you can tell. We just do it… get it done.

So what’s on the menu for our tour lift-off? We shall see, my friends. We… shall… see….

Usual Rubbish

Out with it.


Yeah, put it out to the curb. Don’t complain. We could live in a lousier neighborhood. At least here, we have curbs. Think about it, man. No, really…. THINK.

Oh, hi. Glad to see you were able to take the time to stop by and read my little screed. Always edifying to see what your friends in Big Green are up to, eh? Perhaps edifying is not the right word. How about, better than cleaning toilets? If so, I would have to agree. (Of course, I have a proprietary interest here, I declare.)

You caught us in the midst of a little house cleaning. As you may know, we are preparing for our upcoming interstellar tour, which we are calling ENTER THE MIND 2010 – THE ULTIMATE BIG GREEN EXPERIENCE. Actually, I just tagged that last piece on at the request of Admiral Gonutz, our tour promoter. He seems to think we have a tendency to undersell. (Personally, the fact that we’re selling at all feels like overselling to me. But I digress.) Gonutz is just full of ideas, like a freaking jelly donut. (Actually, Matt’s taken to calling him Donutz, owing to a certain fondness on his part for Cumberland Farm fried cakes, but again… I digress…) Anywho, the admiral hopes a little hype will sweeten the deal on some of these remote venues. I am unconvinced.

Another thing he’s gotten under his ludicrous headgear – he wants us to jettison all non-essential stuff. I don’t mean from the spacecraft we have yet to rent. I mean pretty much everything around this old hammer mill that doesn’t have some kind of nautical theme. [Note to Marvin (my personal robot assistant): that hideous mantle clock of yours is safe.] So we’re carrying all manner of junk out to the side of the road for eventual pickup… very eventual, since we haven’t paid our garbage collection fee in about three years. In fact, on the suggestion of Marvin, we’re even carrying my tendency to digress out to the curb, in a basket.

More than likely, there will be a few leftover discs in the castoffs, so feel free to drop by the Hammer Mill and sift through the dross for… I don’t know, more dross. I think Gonutz is trying to get us used to the idea of traveling light. Not sure he gets the electronic music equipment concept, since he mostly lives in the first quarter of the 19th century.  (Matt noticed that he ordered some oversized rowing megaphones, perhaps for sound reinforcement. Someone needs to speak to him… as long as it isn’t me.)

Junk at the curb? Sounds like a yard sale. Come on down. Tell them Gonutz sent you.