News from Turkmenistan!. Hail Fredonia, it’s a Stalinist paradise, poorly translated. This country wins the award as Most Bizarre Comic Opera Nation on Earth. The guy’s latest caper is changing the names of the months to his name, his mother’s name, and his favorite words. Let us be grateful to our time for a lucky lot which linked our fates with the historical mission of the great citizen of the new revival era.

This is my once, now, and future favorite song by X: The Have Nots. Was just reminded of it in a discussion about Brett Easton Ellis, who quotes it.

Speaking of things that are less than zero, I heard a muzak version of “Watching the Detectives” in the market and it made me sad on about 50 levels in a very Elvis Costello sort of way. I’m trading in my baby for a Chevrolet now, down in that blue chair, ’cause girls talk and the angels wanna wear my red shoes.

Just bought tix over the INTERWEB to go see Savage Republic, The Urinals, Human Hands, and Mike Watt at the Knitting Factory L.A. on November 13. It’s an Early 80s Art Damage Nostalgia Fest! I am as happy as 3.2e49 clams.

So, there’s this whole Homeland Security/War on Terror thing going on. And it seems fairly cheesy and useless from any military or other practical point of view, not even very handy as a tool of oppression. What’s really going on?

One thing I’ve noticed is that at least two friends of mine and more acquaintainces have got jobs out of it, doing things like x-raying packages or clerical work for subcontractors working for the Homeland Security people. And at least two businesses I know of in my immediate circle have contracts to do work for them.

A small light bulb pops on over my head. I’ve got it. This isn’t intended to be useful or even oppressive. It’s the economic recovery plan. Say hello to FDR! Maybe this is the only way a Republican president with a shaky coalition can do a federal pork barrel jobs creation scheme.. as a war.

I await my slice of the anti-terror pie.

This is the first Sunday in weeks that I haven’t encountered some fraudulent multilevel marketing (pyramid scheme) operator working a mark at Diedrich’s Coffee, my usual hangout. Maybe there’s a convention.

Just about always the table next to me on the patio is occupied by one of these scenes. After a few minutes of reading I’m drawn into eavesdropping by key phrases (“new technology”, “growth potential”, “own business”) and I sit back, sip my beverage, and drift into their world.

Some examples:

• Aging, tanned guy with comb-forward hair, sunglasses, Texas accent talking about diet and hair restoral technologies with hapless eager couple. He keeps talking about things like “this technology protrudes into the hypodermis” and the $10 billion market for something or other. He has lots of binders with him. He keeps talking about the people involved, including “Lars” who is a star in this world. “You can’t lose with Lars.” They seem happy about it all.
• Wide eyed unhappy 20something gay guy trying to get another somewhat less wide eyed guy to go for a scheme that isn’t apparent just from eavesdropping. He’s using the SPIN technique to sell the guy, but goes from Situation to Problem and can’t seem to go further, sliding back to the S part. This goes on for roughly two hours as my friend Pretty Boy Dave and I sit nearby. The experiment is a failure and they both leave.
• Large comfortable woman with lots of binders tries to convince another large woman that Primerica is the way to go. Lots of braying about how “AS SINGLE MOTHERS WE NEED TO PROVIDE!” and heavy emphasis on work-at-home success. Papers are exchanged and a long discussion of how much money a person could be known to make at this type of situation! ensues.

Rule: do not ever do business with anyone who has no office and wants to meet you at a coffee house.

<brev> i think this might be a nice idea for logging but I’d be afraid to let the Programmer In The Next Cublice use it
<brev> Cubicle, even.
<ignatz> eww, cub lice
<brev> no, no, it was an italian dessert. Coo-BLEE-say
<ignatz> or a charming seaside resort on the Adriatic
<ignatz> known to the turks as Kubli’c, the Italians as Cublice, the Serbs as Kublice, and the Austrians as Kullenbach.
<brev> and the americans as “Cub Lice”
<ignatz> right
<ignatz> The English having called it “Cubbles” since 1803
<brev> and its fascist past is not nearly the big thing others have made it out to be
<ignatz> yeah, exactly
<ignatz> try the plum brandy!
<brev> glug

With the inevitability of a falling piano, the relatives of our nation’s holy dead from September 11 have filed suit, seeking $1 trillion from somebody or other. Banks, it appears, because they have money.

It appears that there is in fact no problem, no horror, no disaster too wrenchingly painful that it cannot be solved by a rich creamy salve of cash. If “justice is served” with a heaping plate of legal fees and sanctimonious honking, then we will “heal” as the pop psych news analysts like to call it, and terror will be defeated. The dead will rise from their graves as in a medieval painting, flowers will bloom in the desert, and we wil stand tall again.

We must admire the courage of these families to rise above their grief and, just under a year after the event, sue for nation-building quantities of cash. And let us not forget their footsoldiers, either. The quiet corporate attorney, clad in his tailored suit and Bruno Magli loafers,sitting at his desk for hours and hours producing briefs. There’s a thin red-tape line that defends us from terror. Let us pause a moment and honor those who have the guts to stand up for what makes us unique and fills the world with awe at America: litigation.

Go ahead, you dirty turbaned ascetics. Shake your tiny fists at us from your mountain caves. Our torts are rising like stealth bombers into the air, and they’re headed your way.

So, I did the SoCal thing today and crashed my car. Guy in front of me stopped, so did I, guy behind me didn’t, I got to be the cueball in a game of freeway billiards. Total cost to me is $30/day for a rental car for the next 2-3 weeks and maybe $1000 deductible, plus angst and rage and higher insurance. Fortunately no obvious people damage although god knows what I’ll feel like tomorrow, that double impact stuff sucks.

I am now the proud renter of an incredibly shitty bright red Neon. If I crash this thing I’m doomed, it’s made out of bubble wrap and rice paper and has four-wheel chopstick brakes and an engine that runs on baking soda & vinegar.

Death of a Hard Drive

Today I have had to eat: one glass milk, one small package Hostess Donettes (glazed). I believe I shall have a real dinner soon.

Notice to people crossing the street in front of my car. Please follow the bullet points below to avoid your death.

• Do not wave lamely while you step in front of me as I travel at 50 mph down Olympic Boulevard. I do not acknowledge your wave. I kill you in the head.
• Do not either trot across at barely over walking speed in front of me, in a corpulent and slack imitation of “running”. I do not acknowledge your symbolic hurrying that is not hurrying. I kill you in the head.
• Furthermore, do not do that exaggerated “girl running” thing that makes women or men look like a hilarious parody of a drag queen. It amuses me not, and it is not hurrying either. I kill you in the head.
• Do not attempt to use your baby carriage as a shield. The innocent will die with the guilty. See Laurie Anderson’s bit about french traffic and babies for full explanation.

The wonderlicious rock stylings of FERDINAND are once available to Los Angeles area hipsters. This Saturday night they play Taix Lounge in Echo park. FREE. More information is here.

I go back to 1985 with these people, especially with Greg (singer/guitarist) and Laura (bass player), whom I met doing college radio during the Spanish-American War or something. I really like their music, too, which makes things easier. They have a kind of Pixies/Gang of 4/Wilco/Minutemen kaboom pop thing going on with lots of rage about shitty jobs and hot days in the Valley. I’m proud to be their pal.

So go see them already. 🙂

Also: Cheese is made from milk!