Tag Archives: YouTube

Zero interest.

I tried calling them this morning. What was my response? Well … have you ever shouted down an abandoned mineshaft? It sounded kind of like that. Except hollower. Less content.

Mars? Too easy, man.Oh, hi. Welcome to the land of the great ideas. I’m Joe Perry (not of Aerosmith) of Big Green, and well … I am responsible for many of the “great” ideas. Why “great” in quotes? Those are litotes, and I use those when I’m being painfully ironic. Which is to say … our great ideas are not great at all. In fact, most of our ideas are just plain STUPID. But hey, if we let THAT stop us, we probably wouldn’t get out of bed in the afternoon. (Did I say afternoon? I meant … uh … morning.)

Right, so … the latest “great” idea was Mars Zero – our answer to Mars One, the private initiative to land a group of humans on Mars by the year 2025. Our first reaction to Mars One was, hell, we’ve done that already, and dozens of times. Just read our blog, folks. But of course, people seldom do, so they don’t know the full extend of what humankind has been able to accomplish in the name of art in space. (I use the term “art” loosely enough to include things like Cowboy Scat: Songs in the Key of Rick, our most recent album.)

So what’s the problem with Mars Zero, our own attempt to reach the red planet (where we’ve already done several tours) in five years, rather than ten? Well, it’s the anticipated crush of inquiries. Mitch Macaphee, our mad science adviser, is absolutely terrified that a flood of emails will infest our servers and cause them to crash, vaporizing all of his malevolent code. I keep telling him there’s nothing to worry about – that this initiative, like so many previous Big Green efforts, will likely fall flat. He’s excitable, see … that’s the problem with Mitch.

Cowboy Scat on YouTube: Even as we prepare for the worst on Mars Zero, I have managed to upload ten songs from Cowboy Scat to our YouTube channel. The video content is a cheap-ass slide show – this is mostly for the listening. So if you haven’t heard the songs all the way through, here’s how to do it. (I’ll upload the rest of the album over the next couple of weeks. Stay tuned.)

Space invaders.

He’s screaming about “the probe” again. It’s like he’s the Six Million Dollar man or something. Does anyone have smelling salts? Maybe we should just hit him with one of the leftover hammers. Any other good ideas?

Mitch ... not another monster.Well, as you can see, we have had a house invasion. The perpetrator? None other than our mad science adviser, Mitch Macaphee. When NASA’s Dawn spacecraft started orbiting his adopted home world of Ceres, he became extremely agitated. Smoke began to pour out of his ears and mouth, like VOL, from Star Trek. He simply could not live with the idea of being spied upon by the space agency. What if they stole his ideas? he thought…. then his plan to (dare I say it?) RULE THE WORLD would be scuttled. Shot down by a measly little, tin-pot space robot. THAT MAKES ME SO MAD …. !

Ahem. Sorry – I was channeling Mitch for a moment. Anyway, he denounced the NASA probe as a space invader and started bombarding it with deadly baritold rays. Deadly, that is, for vegetation on Gamma Hydra 4, but completely ineffective against ion-powered orbiter spacecrafts. Frustrated, he packed up his portable lab and lifted off. That’s the good news. The BAD news is that he landed here, at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, mad as a badger and ready to take his quarters back from Anti-Lincoln, who had scattered all of his junk over the floor of Mitch’s lab. (Anti-Lincoln’s gotten into origami in a big way, so the whole room is full of paper shards and scissors.)

Now Mitch talks (or shouts) in his sleep, and by day he’s formulating theorems to destroy his imaginary enemies. I think he’s been on that asteroid way too long, as a matter of personal opinion. But please – keep that to yourself! I may be subjected to a withering barrage of baritold rays!

Projects. Matt and I are working on some new songs for Ned Trek. I will also be posting some songs from Cowboy Scat on our YouTube channel very soon, for those of you who like listening to music on YouTube. I’ll post, tweet, whatever when they’re up.

 

Not bright, Bart.

Who knows what happened to your wallet, Mitch. I’m not your valet, for chrissake. And tubey – get your freaking plant food out of my shoe closet. I don’t care if it’s full of topsoil. That just means I’ve been pacing the north forty. Just lay off!

I’m sorry you had to hear that (or read the transcript of it, rather). Yes, tempers are running a little thin around the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill these days. Some see it as a variation on seasonal affective disorder – you know, it starts getting warm, we can’t afford air conditioning, and this clammy mill gets kind of toasty. But it goes deeper than that, I’m afraid. An erosion of trust, you might say. It’s the kind of thing that tends to happen with Big Green between interstellar tours. In fact, that’s what keeps driving us into space. I think that’s what, anyway.

Still, there are other things eating away at us. Like those nefarious bloggers, always trying to make more of a monkey out of me than I am to begin with. Now they’ve done it again – taking footage of me out of context. A freakish miscarriage of justice, executed with the witless assistance of Marvin (my personal robot assistant). Yes, he archives video of all of us in his back up drives. It’s cheap storage – what can I tell you? (Mitch even keeps his lunch in Marvin’s air manifold.) Anyway, he must have tottered his way over to Manhattan at some point last week, fell in with the wrong crowd, and next thing you know, my heavily edited ass is all over YouTube.

What heinous deed is the blogger making it seem, though video sleight of hand, I was committing? It’s not so much about doing as being. By taking scenes out of context, the man is suggesting that I am The Fly. Yes, that The Fly. How could he manage that? Simple – he gets his hands on random footage of my daily life here at the Hammer Mill, cuts out key scenes and transitions, eliminates exculpatory material, and voila!  One hideous man-fly.

So my friends… keep those home movies close to your chest. You don’t want to end up like me. You’ve been warned!