Tag Archives: Marvin

Usual Rubbish

Luna, oh, Luna.

How much does the moon weigh? I don’t have an answer to that, for chrissake. What am I, a freaking scientist or something? Go ask Mitch Macaphee. What? He told you to ask me? Mother of pearl…

Oh, hi. Was wondering when you would drop by. Not the best time, as I’m sure you’ve surmised. We’re working on our proposal to the Gingrich campaign to be their official liaison to the Moon people and their special counsel on all matters Moonly. This is an ambitious move for Big Green – certainly as bold as our attempt to glom onto the W. Bush campaign and presidency way back in 2000 (the distant future… the year 2000…). That started with something as humble as sharing an interstellar tour bus with the man himself, but resulted in our brief but fruitful installation into the corridors of power. (We still have some of the fruit from that little sojourn, though it’s a tad ripe now.)

Right, so anyway … back then it was clear that Bush would be the nominee. This time, it’s clear that Gingrich will be the NOMinee. I mean, he said so himself, right? And is he ever wrong? I’ll ask Marvin (my personal robot assistant) … if he ever gets his head out of his ass. But I digress. Come the inevitable Gingrich presidency, our nation’s relations with the Moon will occupy center stage. He will need the best advice available, and who better to tap for that particular responsibility than the Hammermill team, right? We’ve performed on the Moon. Moon people are our people.

That said, I was a little surprised to receive this request for proposal (RFP) from the Gingrich group. Do we really need to substantiate our wild claims with fact? What kind of a world is this becoming? In any case, we are being asked to demonstrate our knowledge of Earth’s nearest neighbor in space on the most rudimentary level imaginable. How much does the moon weigh, for pity’s sake. As any expert know, that depends on what phase the moon is in. Right now, it’s close to full, so its weight today is going to be a hell of a lot greater than when it’s in first quarter phase, right? Any Earthbound knucklehead knows that. But can anyone write you a slamming anthem? One that will appropriately accompany your pressure-suited legions when you conquer the moon?

Okay… clearly I’ve said too much. It wouldn’t do for Newt’s plan of lunar domination to gain to great a currency prior to his inevitable election, so … keep it under your hat for now. There’s a good chap.

Usual Rubbish

Poditis.

Hey, turn off the water when you’re done in there, okay? Hello? Mitch, is that you? Matt? Lincoln? Where the hell is everybody?

Oh, right…. they’ve gone to a clambake. Or so they said, anyway. I think they just want to get the hell out of this drafty old Hammer Mill, and who can blame them? Not I, my friends. Still … someone has to mind the store. Perhaps you suppose that Marvin (my personal robot assistant) could handle such a simple task as guarding the mill, but no… much too complicated for his tiny mind. No, it takes real intellect, acumen, and chutzpah to keep this abandoned mill running up to par. And it there’s one man under this roof who can…. hey … did I leave the front door open? MARVIN?!

Okay, well… we all need help, right? That’s what bands are all about. Otherwise hapless musicians, huddling together to ward off the elements, keeping the home fires burning. Personally, I think they’re all irked at me for being such a jerk during our last podcast. (Matt was being a jerk, too, but he’s probably joining them in their shunning of me just to be ironic. Freaking hipsters!) The reason I think that is, well, we did act like jerks. That’s what people expect, okay? Here’s some of what they’re probably complaining about in the March episode of THIS IS BIG GREEN:

Derisive Tributes – As we often do when a prominent primate passes away, we paid tribute to Davy Jones of the Monkees and Andrew Breitbart of the Internets and, well, we were perhaps a little less than sufficiently pious. As Matt said, I went so far as to turn it into a “big joke”. Like making repeated mention of rejected would-be Monkees Charles Manson and Steven Stills. Stop using words that hurt! Listen for yourself, reader, and judge.

Questionable Remembrances – At least one anecdote was shared – I won’t say by whom (Matt) – about someone being arrested at a Jethro Tull concert in 1979. That could have been anybody, right? But then we had to go and talk about Matt’s dentist and how she shares a name with an infamous character from classic Star Trek. That got us into quoting lines from the show and, well…. all the evil that proceeds from that.

Looney Music – The Cousin Rick Perry songs, all first drafts, were a little weirder than usual this time around, with a kind of seventies lounge pop number, a shanty like diddy, and robot rock about Romney and Santorum. Add that to some pretty awful banjo and kazoo improvisation, and you’ve got yourself a podcast.

So…. as I said, friends, listen and judge. Personally, I think my Mill-mates all have poditis. That’s probably because they had to listen to the freaking thing while we were recording it and about five times thereafter. Who can blame them?

Usual Rubbish

Lunar new year.

Hey, what the…? Did I sign off on that? Are you sure? Well, I guess you would know better than I. Wouldn’t you? RRRrrrrr….

Face it, we’ve got bad quality control here at the Cheney Hammer Mill. Was a time that not a single hammer went out of here with unsightly flashing or a splinter out of place in their ironwood handles. Not so with Big Green, it pains me to say. We are not perfect – ADMIT IT TO YOURSELF. It’s just because we’ve got irons in so many fires. Too many spoons in the stew. Eleven toes on each foot. I don’t know – you pick the metaphor. I’ve got work to do.

Nah, see… Marvin (my personal robot assistant) posted our March episode of THIS IS BIG GREEN, our podcast, before I had had a chance to listen to it. We could be saying ANYTHING, for chrissake. If we had reputations or integrity, we could lose either (or both). There are some advantages to general slovenliness and moral degeneration, but I’ve only just thought of one of them, so…. there can’t be too many. Anyway, it’s out there, warts and all – another wide ranging discussion between Matt and I, discussing everything from the death of Davy Jones and Andrew Breitbart, to Star Trek mythology, to things too obscure to describe in print. Freakish, that’s all I can say. Plus three more songs from Rick Perry – a 70s-pop lament tentatively called “Rick: The Searchable Name”; a doggerel called “Really Rick Perry”, and a primitive rock number entitled, simply, “Santorum”.

Okay, well … that’s done. Now, to our new commission – that of spearheading the efforts of former House Speaker Newt Gingrich in his efforts to conquer and rule the moon. He got our names from George W. Bush, no doubt. We have been in the dubya rolodex ever since he went on tour with us back in 2000, which led to our taking on an advisory position in the early (pre-9/11) Bush White House. (We were in charge of his Space Commission, based on our long history in…. well…. space.) Hey… nothing succeeds like success. Except perhaps failure, in our case. Anywho, the first thing Newt has asked us to do – aside from grease the diplomatic wheels with any people found on the moon – is to write a national anthem for our nearest neighbor in space. One that duly celebrates his initiative, his genius, and (he also says) his modesty.

So, well…. Matt and I have to get to work on this. Perhaps John can work up some pedal steel parts. We’ve got stuff to do, Marvin – don’t bother me with trifles! (Unless they’re the tasty dessert kind.)