Hmmm…. forgot my password. What was the name of that lawyer who wrote me last week? Zul something. Hey – somebody scroll up to last week’s post and pass me the guy’s name, will you? I need my password back!
Ah, got it. Scratched into my computer monitor, right about where the password field appears on the screen. Pretty clever, huh? No one would think of looking for it there! Let’s see… what is up at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill that might be of interest to you. Little inventory here. I think Mitch Macaphee is working on an experiment (either that or Qaddafi’s bombers are getting closer). Matt is either changing strings on a guitar, feeding animals, or transposing our heads with those of lunar astronauts. (A specialty of his.) Johnny White is catching up on his technical manuals, I believe. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) has shut himself down for the weekend, taking a little break from his newly founded religious cult. I won’t get into what the Lincolns are up to.
Me? I’m Googling our names on the internets. Can’t say as I’m happy about what I’ve found. I’m not talking about album searches – 2000 Years To Christmas turns up about 18,000 hits, mostly music sites. (Though one strangely attributes authorship of several songs to the brothers Gibb. First I’ve heard of it.) No surprises there. But hell, one thing that came up was a positive slam by writer Naomi Klein during her appearance on Democracy Now! this past Wednesday. Klein – a favorite author, I confess – made this troubling statement about Big Green:
“…most of the big green groups are loath to talk about economics and often don’t want to see themselves as being part of a left at all, see climate change as an issue that transcends politics entirely…. a lot of the big green groups, are also in a kind of denial.”
I read this and I was like, hey…. hold on a minute, Naomi. For one thing, I object to the claim that there is more than one Big Green out there. Sure, I know – other bands have used the name, but I think you will agree, no one has worn it more shamelessly than we. Secondly, it’s simply not true. We talk about economics all the time! We have to – we’re as broke as church mice in a less-than-optimal church. And hell, if we’re in denial, that’s because it’s part of our creative process. Can’t fault us for that. I can’t speak for the other Big Greens, but that’s the story with us.
Man. The internets are getting less and less congenial every time I go there.
Right. So, let’s see… what do we have in the old mail bag? Ah… here’s something…
I have entrusted it to my good friend, Big Zamboola, who will carry it straight over to you…. just as soon as he disengages himself from synchronous orbit over Aldebaran 7. (He is strangely attracted to that hideous little globe.) Give him a few thousand years or so. Orbits have decayed more slowly than that, to be sure.
That’s the song we’re singing here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, now that Marvin (my personal robot assistant) has been plying his new trade as preacher, flock-leader, and chief financial officer of the local diocese of the Space Hippie Sect. Yes, it’s a religion he made up using bits and pieces from Hulu reruns he watches in his ample spare time (contrary to common belief, robots are slothful creatures generally, their servos idle nearly 65% of the time). Turns out it was time well wasted, as the converts have been trudging in, eyes glazed, arms extended in front of them, hungry for spiritual guidance. Didn’t know Marvin was so good at getting money out of people. Must be new programming… for somebody.
constitutionally protected speech, not a Web-based confession of ill deeds. Nor is this claim a lame effort to keep you from breaking up this great little scam we’ve got going….. um… in the satire.)