PLAUSIBLE? ANY OF IT?

I have hardly been keeping up with all this Pat Tillman business, (here’s a report if your not up to speed either) but am I to understand from the word “fratricide” in the story means that, rather than being accidentally killed by “friendly fire”, he was actually fragged by his own men because he was a gun-ho barking-crazy psycho and fatally dangerous to anyone close to him? Or is that just my cynical assumption.

And meanwhile, as I posted the above, this appeared in my in-box. “TOKYO — A health ministry affiliate has received 23 reports of antiviral drug Tamiflu causing neuropsychiatric disorders in children aged under 10 such as hallucinations, depressed consciousness or delirium." Now wasn’t this junk being pumped up by the pharmaceutical companies as their first line of defense against H5N1 Avian Flu? I never did trust it. Like Pat Tillman’s unfortunate death, it just seemed so overhyped.

The secret word is Skepticism

THIS BLOG IS STILL PROTECTED BY...

NEWTON HAS AN UPDATE

The deaths supposedly caused by catfood that we were all worrying about last Monday have been attributed to rat poison, although how exactly is not clear. For what there is of the story...

BRITS TAKE SMALL STEP TO DRUG SANITY

Aeswiren sends us the following report from the BBC…
"The drug classification system in the UK is not "fit for purpose" and should be scrapped, scientists have said. They have drawn up an alternative system which they argue more accurately reflects the harm that drugs do. The new ranking system places alcohol and tobacco in the upper half of the league table, ahead of cannabis and several Class A drugs such as ecstasy. The study, published in The Lancet, has been welcomed by a team reviewing drug research for the government. The Academy of Medical Sciences group plans to put its recommendations to ministers in the autumn."

Rest of story…

The secret word is Benzodiazepine

BLATANT SELF PROMOTION (Nosferatu Division)

Earlier in the week (on Tuesday to be precise) we were discussing the arithmetic impossibility of vampires and I happened to mention Victor Renquist and posted a link to his Wikipedia entry (not written by me) but maybe I didn’t urge everyone sufficiently strongly, who hasn’t already gone out or online to buy The Renquist Quartet, to do so immediately starting with the first book – The Time of Feasting (left).

And when you’ve made the purchase, HCB poses some comments, all of which I think are brilliantly resolved in the Renquist novels. (Along with the problem of Nazi flying saucers and the whereabouts of the last Quaalude on the planet.)

“The vampire population is increasing in a geometric progression, and the population of humans is similarly decreasing -- and at that rate, the authors calculate, the entire human population would be transformed into vampires in only 30 months.”

HCB -- But you’d have to assume they were capable of traveling great distances because otherwise they'd entirely consume the local population in short order and starve (if they can in fact actually die) or tear each other to pieces. More likely they'd have the same effect as any lethal virus in a finite population, and like a contagious disease they'd have a much greater effect in bigger urban environments. There's also the native earth business to get around. I guess you could say they're land-locked.

“Am Legend that also became the Vincent Price movie The Last Man On Earth and was also the basis of The Omega Man with Charlton Heston”

HCB -- The new Will Smith version is set to release in Dec

HCB also provides a link to Hard Day’s Night Of The Living Dead

Larry "Bud' Melman -- RIP

A FAREWELL TO WASTE MANAGEMENT

In this week’s LA CityBeat I use up the space available for what I guess is my elegy on The Sopranos and how it is, in reality, a surviving product of the Bill Clinton 1990s.

The secret word is Bing! (or maybe Bah)

SPRING?

Our friend Yukiko has sent me a short poem known as "Waka" (a little longer form of Haiku) written the famous Japanese monk poet, Saigyo. Some of you will be aware why I post it here. Those who aren’t should just enjoy it.

Let me die in spring

under the cherry blossom,

let it be around

that full moon

of Kisaragi month

(Kisaragi is an ancient Japanese name for the month of March.)

VAMPIRES CAN'T EXIST

VICTOR RENQUIST WOULD NOT LIKE THIS ONE BIT. (Less in fact than he likes how he’s neither a graphic novel nor a major motion picture.)

“One of the most totally fun areas of publishing in recent years has been the emergence of books that probe the scientific bases of fictional universes. Among popular conclusions? Vampires can't exist. Why? Because they'd quickly depopulate the earth. To prove it, the scientists do some calculations by picking a random year in history -- 1600, specifically -- and imagining what would happen if one vampire suddenly appeared on earth. They assume, for the sake of argument, that a vampire needs to feed "only once a month", and that in the course of feeding, the vampire turns its victim into another vampire. They note that the global population of humans was 536,870,911 in the year 1600. They note that the global population of humans was 536,870,911 in the year 1600. Then the calculations begin. If a single vampire fed on a single human in the first month, this would create two vampires -- and decrease the human population by one, leaving it at 536,870,911 - 1 = 536,870,910. In the second month, those two vampires would each feed, transforming two people into vampires -- so you get four vampires and a human population of 536,870,911 - 3 = 536,870,908. So you can see where this is headed. The vampire population is increasing in a geometric progression, and the population of humans is similarly decreasing -- and at that rate, the authors calculate, the entire human population would be transformed into vampires in only 30 months. QED!”

For chapter and verse read Clive Thompson’s Collision Detection (also permanently linked on the right.)

All this arithmetic does, however, explain why so many once and future vampire authors like myself go such extreme trouble to make the conversion of a human to a vampire or nosferatu state much more complicated than one bite per customer. Also most of us knew that the whole idea of the exponential spread of Vampirism had been totally worked out in Richard Matheson’s novel I Am Legend that also became the Vincent Price movie The Last Man On Earth and was also the basis of The Omega Man with Charlton Heston (and a lot of guns.)

The secret words is Crypt

FOUR YEARS AND STILL COUNTING

How long, lawd, lawdy how long? Yes, indeed. How fucking long do we tolerate indefinite homicidal greed and stupidity? And how long do the questions remain merely rhetorical?

A NOTE FROM NEWTON

After last month's Purina dogfood panic we now have some serious and maybe fatal panics regarding various brands of cat food.

The secret word is Warning

PAT & PATTI

Today is St Patrick’s Day and I’m going over to 00Soul’s to eat cabbage and get drunk most likely. The IRA has hung up their guns and I don’t feel like writing, so, instead, I’m posting this rumination by Patti Smith, (aptly sent by Pat) because, although no one is going to give me any fucking prizes, or put me in a Hall of Fame – and if they did I would look pretty askance and mutter about speech day at school – I have had similar thoughts.

"On a cold morning in 1955, walking to Sunday school, I was drawn to the voice of Little Richard wailing Tutti Frutti from the interior of a local boy's makeshift clubhouse. So powerful was the connection that I let go of my mother's hand. Rock'n'roll. It drew me from my path to a sea of possibilities. It sheltered and shattered me, from the end of childhood through a painful adolescence. I had my first altercation with my father when the Rolling Stones made their debut on the Ed Sullivan Show. Rock'n'roll was mine to defend. It strengthened my hand and gave me a sense of tribe as I boarded a bus from south Jersey to freedom in 1967.
Rock'n'roll, at that time, was a fusion of intimacies. Repression bloomed into rapture like raging weeds shooting through cracks in the cement. Our music provided a sense of communal activism. Our artists provoked our ascension into awareness as we ran amok in a frenzied state of grace. My late husband, Fred Sonic Smith, then of Detroit's MC5, was a part of the brotherhood instrumental in forging a revolution: seeking to save the world with love and the electric guitar. He created aural autonomy yet did not have the constitution to survive all the complexities of existence. Before he died, in the winter of 1994, he counseled me to continue working. He believed that one day I would be recognized for my efforts and, though I protested, he quietly asked me to accept what was bestowed - gracefully - in his name.
Last night I joined REM, the Ronettes, Van Halen and Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. On the eve of this event I asked myself many questions. Should an artist working within the revolutionary landscape of rock accept laurels from an institution? Should laurels be offered? Am I a worthy recipient? I have wrestled with these questions and my conscience leads me back to Fred and those like him - the maverick souls who may never be afforded such honors. Thus in his name I will accept with gratitude. Fred Sonic Smith was of the people, and I am none but him: one who has loved rock'n'roll and crawled from the ranks to the stage, to salute history and plant seeds for the erratic magic landscape of the new guard. Because its members will be the guardians of our cultural voice. The internet is their CBGB. Their territory is global. They will dictate how they want to create and disseminate their work. They will, in time, make breathless changes in our political process. They have the technology to unite and create a new party, to be vigilant in their choice of candidates, unfettered by corporate pressure. Their potential power to form and reform is unprecedented.
Human history abounds with idealistic movements that rise, then fall in disarray. The children of light. The journey to the east. The summer of love. The season of grunge. But just as we seem to repeat our follies, we also abide. Rock'n'roll drew me from my mother's hand and led me to experience. In the end it was my neighbors who put everything in perspective. An approving nod from the old Italian woman who sells me pasta. A high five from the postman. An embrace from the notary and his wife. And a shout from the sanitation man driving down my street: "Hey, Patti, Hall of Fame. One for us." I just smiled, and I noticed I was proud. One for the neighborhood. My parents. My band. One for Fred. And anybody else who wants to come along." © Guardian News and Media Limited 2007

By way of a St. Paddy gift from Doc40. Here is a copy of The Hollow Men by T.S. Elliot.

The secret word is Erin

THIS BLOG IS PROTECTED BY...

NEED I SAY MORE?

Actually I'm sweating a deadline and wouldn't say more if I could. And, of course, I'm an Englishman with everything that entails.

But there is more news on the bees.

The secret word is Metrosexual

CAN YOU SPELL THAT FOR ME?

For some reason that I don’t quite understand, I find it profoundly disturbing that 45% of the sampled group couldn’t read the paragraph below with perfect ease. Or maybe because it’s the way I spell. (Supplied by Sheri)

Fi yuo cna raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too. Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55% plepoe can.
i cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!

The secret word hardly matters.

CRYPTIQUE – You know the rules. It doesn’t stop until you’re dead.

TODAY...

Today is an anniversary I would really rather not be remembering, and maybe I shouldn’t even be making reference to it at all, especially in this semi-public context lest I reveal too much and loose another company of demons with which I can drive myself insane. Or should I attempt to explain the madness that visits, these dozen days into the month of March? I don’t know. I don’t know. Except I fear the same risk applies. Can one really undo or heal the damage wrought by events, and the disasters that remain after the passing of the show? Again I have no answer. I don’t know. I don’t know. It repeats like an infinite electric echo. The best I can do is to leave you with a lesser-known fragment of Jim Morrison that fidicen sent me, Jim also being dead.

GRAVEYARD POEM

It was the greatest night of my life
Although I still had not found a wife
I had my friends right there beside me
We scaled the wall
We tripped through the graveyard
Ancient shapes were all around us
No music but the wet grass
Felt fresh beside the fog

Two made love in a silent spot
One chased a rabbit into the dark
A girl got drunk & balled the dead
And I gave empty sermons to my head

Cemetery cool & quiet
Hate to leave your sacred lay
Dread the milky coming of the day
I´d love to stay
I´d love to stay
I´d love to stay

The secret word is Gone

YAY BARACK!

In this week’s LA CityBeat, I have written a quite uncharacteristic love letter to Barack Obama. (Photo by Steve Appleford)

And let’s also face reality. What the fuck is happening to the bees of the USA?

The secret word is Buzzed

CAPTAIN AMERICA SLAIN BY LONE GUNMAN

As it came in, hot off the wire, to a stunned populace...

"Eyewitness reports claim that the initial bullet, tagging Rogers in the shoulder, came from a sniper perched atop or in one of the buildings adjacent to the Federal Courthouse. Several other shots were fired during the ensuing commotion -- hitting Rogers in the chest and stomach--but witnesses fleeing the scene, as well as the U.S. Marshals who were escorting Rogers, have stated there was only one sniper shot fired."

Massive and highly complex conspiracies theories and a movie by Oliver Stone are expected to follow.

The secret word is Bucky

CRYPTIQUE -- The ides of March came early this year.

LIBBY DOWN...

...and how many more to go? We've had few enough moments of unseemly glee of late so let's enjoy this one while we can. Remember, a sweater starts unravelling with but a single thread. Maybe we'll see all the bastards doing the perp walk before both epic and epoch end.

But the secret word is Pardon

I BROKE MY PROMISE ON COULTER

Ann Coulter addressing the Conservative Political Action Conference in Washington: "I was going to have a few comments on the other Democratic presidential candidate John Edwards, but it turns out you have to go into rehab if you use the word 'faggot’."

Last Wednesday I broke a silent vow I had made a few months earlier that I would never mention Ann Coulter’s name in print again. As one TV head put it earlier today – “the woman needs constant publicity like a tapeworm needs a large intestine in which to live.” I was of so much the same opinion that I decided simply to declare her a non-person and get on with my life and style. But then she pissed me off with her “global warming is a fabrication of the liberal elite” and I slipped and slapped at her in passing. Which was a mistake. The only way to eliminate the bitch – short of gasoline-fueled auto-da-fe -- is totally to ignore her. Especially now her shtick seems have been rendered down to just-plain-evil fag baiting, like she was Julius Streicher in drag. Thus I will attempt never again to acknowledge her existence unless she is actually in my cross hairs. (And I do wish some of my "progressive" comrades would knock off this "is Coulter a man?" shit. I frankly find it as homophobic as her own nonsense.

The above picture is not Ann Coulter. It is Natasha Queen of Swords, a woman who practices a useful, historic, and honorable profession. (Thanks Valerie)

CRYPTIQUE – Chasing a toaster through a hurricane.

The secret word is Vomit

THE RAYGUN OF THE FUTURE

As many of you may already know and some may have surmised, I have this attraction to rayguns. About the same time as I was learning to crawl (or possibly shoplift) the first rayguns started coming on the market – Flash Gordon/Dan Dare numbers made from pressed tin or plastic, either cap or squirt guns, or with sparking friction mechanisms. One of my proudest artifacts is a raygun from the TV series Galaxy Rangers that both HCB and I (and also aeswiren) all scripted. Thus HCB knew what he was doing when he beamed over this link to Dr. Grorbort’s Rayguns, which have to be finest rayguns in the known world. He must also have also known the frustration he was creating with even Dr. Grorbort’s Manmelter priced at around fifteen hundred bucks.

BUT WHAT'S A RAYGUN WITHOUT A ROBOT?

(Breaks into song)
Kissed so hard,
Bruised my lips
Hurts so good my heart just flips
I gotta woman mean as she can be
Sometimes I think she’s almost mean as me

(Actually I don’t, but negotiations are always possible)

The secret word is Doombeam

NO ECLIPSE FOR THE WICKED

Of course, it wasn’t actually visible here on the West Coast of the Americas, but no one exactly warned me it was happening, but maybe that was because I was with Andy working on a recording project. Had I known though, I could have waxed well Terrence McKenna. The eclipse began at 2018 GMT, with the Moon totally immersed in the shadow of the Earth between 2244 and 2358 GMT. (Thank you for the picture, Valerie.)

The secret phrase is The Shadow Knows

FRANK SINATRA NEVER QUIT SMOKING

Regular readers will probably be aware that around five months ago, I quite smoking, after spending my entire life with a 100mm hanging from my lip. It wasn’t at all easy, but not quite as mind-bending as I has expected. Now Valerie sends me this item from the BBC that suggests a degree of brain damage (never a bad thing) makes the whole process much less painful. It does go on, however, to suggest that simple brain surgery (an oxymoron?) could destroy the craving for nicotine. I really don’t like the sound of this. Okay, so butts are no good, but we can’t have surgeons poking around inside our skulls fixing anything the entities who control the scalpel deem bad for us. It’s called surgical behavior modification and, in theory, can cure anything from socialist ideology to an unacceptable sexual preference.

In this week’s LA CityBeat I mount a brief but cruel attack on Sarah Silverman

The secret words are Slice and Dice

WE NEVER CEASE

“We have hats, zippers and matching boots. We are color-coordinated, we know no fear, we have support rods inserted in our rectums and we will never stop. We are the new wave of neocons.”



The neocon machine in the Dark Tower will seemingly never run down. Even though a large majority of the population no longer gives it much credence, the damned thing grinds on and on, feeding Drudge and Hannity and O’Reilly, and the New Children of the Rising Scum with factoids and fabrications and that choke every demented noise outlet that will still allow them a forum. Monday should have been a good day for Al Gore – even though he could lose a few pounds – what with winning an Oscar and finally appearing to have made a little headway in selling the idea that planet – in the form that makes it inhabitable for we humans – is in extremely serious trouble. But then up pops some self-appointed think tank called the Tennessee Center for Policy Research yipping and yapping that Gore’s gas and electric bills for his 20-room home and pool house devoured nearly 221,000 kilowatt-hours in 2006, more than 20 times the national average of 10,656 kilowatt-hours. “He tells other people how to live and he's not following his own rules."
The logic then follows that Gore is a hypocrite, a liar, cannot be believed and therefore there’s no global warning, no drowning polar bears, no burning rainforest, no climatic disaster bearing down. Like Ann Coulter was howling the other day, it’s just a conspiracy of rich liberals, and we can all go back to our clear cutting, oil drilling, war profiteering, our conspicuous consumption, our guiltless SUVs, and our golf. (And don’t forget to support the troops, you patriots. Although that may not quite extend to picking up the tab when they come home with their arms and legs blown off. I mean, who knew so many of them would so inconveniently survive.)

The secret word is Sickening

BRAIN OR BRAWN OR THE MONTH THAT YOU WERE BORN?

Does the time of year you're born affect your mental state -- and your potential for developing some form of mental illness? The question is asked on Collision Detection, the blog of our cyberpal Clive Thompson. Seemingly the idea actually goes back all the way to 1929, when the Swiss scientist Moritz Tramer noted that people born in late winter were much more likely to develop schizophrenia later in life; indeed, that correlation has been verified in so many followup studies that one study argued "the increased risk of schizophrenia that comes with a winter birthday is almost twice the increase in risk linked to having a parent or sibling with the disorder.” For more…

The secret word is September

BLATANT SELF PROMOTION

On Sunday February 11th, some discussion took place over the role of Blatant Self Promotion (BSP) ,on a blog like Doc40 and I conceded that maybe I was a little neglectful of such things. What did they used to call it? Being backwards to put yourself forward? Thus I post a link to what I though was a very nice review of Underland, the fourth – and so far final – Victor Renquist novel, not only because I would be delighted it a whole bunch of you went out and bought the book, but also because even this guy’s complaints are near as dammit on the money. I freely admit I did rather vaporize things at the end.

...BEFORE IT'S ILLEGAL!

This was sent by Wendy from something called KiroTV. Figure it’s time to get some before it’s totally illegal.

"There's growing alarm about an herb that teenagers are trying.
The herb makes them hallucinate. It's been compared to acid and LSD, but it's legal here in Washington State. Eastside Bureau Chief Alison Grande has the warning for teenagers and their parents. It's called Salvia. It's being marketed to teenagers, and how they're using it has the feds investigating. Teens who used it told us they're surprised it's so easy to get.
“It's this thing you smoke. It will make you hallucinate,” said one teenager.
“You have to ask people, like, ‘What did I do?’ because you don't remember. I don't remember at least.”
Salvia Divinorum is an herb in the mint family.
We asked around outside an Eastside high school, and in minutes found users of this drug.
“It's not my thing because I don't like not having any control over myself and not be able to stop laughing or falling over,” said one teen.
Once used for spiritual ceremonies in Mexico, it's legal. The use of Salvia is on the rise and that has the Drug Enforcement Administration worried.
“Just because it's legal, just because it's not classified, just because it's not a controlled substance doesn't mean that it's healthy and safe,” said Rodney Benson of the DEA.
It's being blamed for the death of 17-year-old Brett Chidester in Delaware. The teen killed himself after using salvia. The note he left behind talked about his experiences while taking the drug.
Delaware created "Brett's Law," banning salvia. At least 13 other states are also cracking down on it. Washington is not one of them. Teens we talked to said it was easy to find here -- on the Internet and at smoke shops. Using a hidden camera, we went looking for salvia. In a matter of minutes, a clerk at a smoke shop handed over a vial. Down the street, we asked for salvia. We found it was always kept behind the counter. We paid more than 20 dollars for a container. And it's not just smoke shops. Nutrition shops carry it, too. This clerk told us to be careful not to use too much, and showed us a handout about the hallucinogenic effects. We paid more than $70 for liquid salvia.
“It does in some instances create some violent behavior and some hallucinations that could cause harm to our kids,” Benson said.
When we showed Special Agent Benson a container, he thought it was frightening. The packaging, the marketing -- obviously for young adults. Salvia could become a controlled substance soon. “Right now there's medical scientific professionals that are reviewing salvia for placement as a controlled substance,” Benson said.
But for now, the DEA is counting on parents to patrol their teens, and to talk to them about the risks and hope teens stop being guinea pigs. A 15-year-old who used salvia thinks parent should know about it. “It's just going to keep getting out of hand,” the teen said. In most cases, salvia is labeled as incense, but young adults are smoking it instead. "

The secret word is Zonk

MAKE NO MISTAKE

“Is this the portal to idol worship or merely the doors of perception?”

In this week’s LA CityBeat I have a riff on fame, delusion, precocity, Facebook, and death. Also how one must never, ever confuse Anna Nicole Smith with Marilyn Monroe, and nothing always ammounts to nothing no matter how heavily it may be promoted.
(The Harold Lloyd photo was lifted from Tom Sutpen)

The secret word is Nembutal

WHY DOES THIS MAKE ME UNEASY?

Being in the process of recovering from some flu-like virus, I am hardly thrilled by the report I happened across that recounted how researchers are now doing a Jurassic Park-style resurrection on extinct retroviruses that lurk in our own DNA.

"Although many retroviruses went extinct hundreds of thousands or millions of years ago, researchers studying the pathogens don’t use the traditional tools of paleontologists: They need look only as far as our own DNA. Retroviruses infect cells and replicate by inserting their DNA into their host cell’s genome. If that cell happens to be a germ cell, such as a sperm, an egg or their precursors, then the retroviral DNA is inherited by offspring just like a normal gene. Humans have many defunct retroviruses deposited in our DNA, remnants of ancient retroviruses that replicated in our ancestors millions of years ago. Now, researchers have brought one of those retroviruses back to life." (Now read on…)

The secret word is Fever

TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT

“Don’t worry. Don’t be afraid. I’m the only companion you need. Don’t worry. Don’t be afraid. I’m the only…”

Aeswiren send the following which, in my bleaker moments, I find all too plausible.

NEW YORK (Reuters) - Police called to a Long Island man's house discovered the mummified remains of the resident, dead for more than a year, sitting in front of a blaring television set. The 70-year-old Hampton Bays, New York, resident, identified as Vincenzo Ricardo, appeared to have died of natural causes. Police said on Saturday his body was discovered on Thursday when they were called to the house over a burst water pipe.
"You could see his face. He still had hair on his head," Newsday quoted morgue assistant Jeff Bacchus as saying. The home's low humidity had preserved the body. Officials could not explain why the electricity had not been turned off, considering Ricardo had not been heard from since December 2005. Neighbors said when they had not seen Ricardo, who was diabetic and had been blind for years, they assumed he was in the hospital or a long-term care facility.

What I do wonder, though, is what channel ol’ Vincenzo had the TV tuned to, and since Long Island is hardly famous for its humidity, did he also have an a/c cranked up?

The secret word is Plug

The phrase "herding cats" was used last night on Battlestar Galactica.

A LITTLE EARLY TO SHOUT "DUCK!"

For all of you who find the End of the World totally fascinating, an AOL news report sent over by the lovely and amazing Wend warns that an asteroid may come uncomfortably close to Earth in 2036, and suggests that the United Nations should assume responsibility for a space mission to deflect it. Astronomers are monitoring an asteroid named Apophis. (Stupid and pretentious classical-obscure fucking name, why not call this agent of our demise something like Barry, Fido, or Mrs Thatcher and make the doom of man truly absurd?) Apparently Apophis has a 1 in 45,000 chance of striking Earth on April 13, 2036. (Is that a Friday?) And although 45 thousand to one is hardly Las Vegas odds, it does seem like a reasonable idea to deflect Apophis since, in 2036, I will only be ninety something and – if I’m successful in my efforts to outlive Willie Nelson – I’ll doubtless have much more important things to do than be blown up by a goddamned asteroid like some unfortunate bloody dinosaur. Unless, of course, the Mayan calendar was right after all and everything had already winked into nothingness on December 21st, 2012.

The secret word is Boom!

DOC FEELS A LITTLE BETTER

As you may have noticed, the last few posts have been a little short on content, since this accursed virus smote me. I don’t know if this is a sign of the times or a bellwether to the way of the world, but the three most frequent words/phrases I have heard, read, or uttered in the last week or two have been…

“Clusterfuck”
“Herding cats”
“Narcissism”

The secret word is Analgesic

THE DOC THINKS HE HAS THE FLU

"So I smoke cigarettes in his fevered dreams just to hang him up."

Which makes the end of the world all the more attractive.

(Watch this -- way cool, and send by wend)

The secret word is Lousy

If you encounter one of these, your only hope is to remove the batteries immediately.

I HARDLY BELIEVE IT

HCB sent over the following…
“Recently, Hershey’s announced the “Elvis Cup”, a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup that includes a layer of Banana Creme. You may or may not know (if say, you’re blind), but Elvis loved to eat. One of his favorite foods was fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches, thus the inspiration for the new Reese’s cup. Hershey’s just added some chocolate and took away the fried aspect. This “limited edition” candy is being made in honor of the 30th Anniversary of The King’s passing. The candy will be on your shelves sometime in July ‘07, while Elvis’ actual date of death is August 16th. The candy, which will come in mini, standard and “king size”, will also include an instant win contest for a trip for two to Graceland.”

It would now seem that Elvis Presley is inseparably linked with the combination of peanut butter and banana, which is hardly slapback bass and a lot of echo. HCB also remarked. “Alien sushi? Did you actually see the video they took of the russkie's lunch? (youtube) Amazing. And green. That's two mutant fish in the last two weeks--the Jap shark and this. And did you hear about the dead bees in Penn? Ready for the rapture. Getting on the bread line for 2012”

The secret words are Left The Building

BLATANT SELF PROMOTION

Among Friday’s comments, Peromyscus noted – regarding Funtopia’s online edition of my very old novel The Tale Of Willy’s Rats – “I didn't know it was online. Mick, I think you should do more BSP (Blatant Self Promotion) in your blog. Currently you don't do any at all. Too much could be irritating but I think “some” is in order. Having said that, the Willy's Rats' page tells me it doesn't exist. That is to say, it gives a 404. (See, a perfect excuse to have that corrected and then post about your books.)”

This other link to the online The Tale Of Willy’s Rats does seem to work. And I also take to heart her comments on how I shy away from self promotion mainly because I tend to get more excited about all that is going on around me (as in the dangerous dog food noted below) than my own career, which, as an entity, is somewhat tedious. Plus it’s not easy to avoid thinking about promoting oneself without recalling all of the idiot publishers who – while doing absolutely nothing to promote me – have suggested I would be of more value to them if I would write like Terry Prachett, to which I (mentally at least) responded that the idiot publishers might be more value to me if their were to practice sodomizing themselves, while I continue, like Popeye the Sailor, to be what I am.

Fortunately, by the adage of one door opening when another closes – even if you may have forgotten the key – a new online publishing venture that might ultimately be wondrous to behold has been eased into the works. That’s about all I can tell you at the moment. A boy hates to boast, but more will be revealed as time goes by. In the meantime, check out the new link to Alive/Total Energy link on the right for some of the best Farren and Deviants CDs, and/or run a Mick Farren search Amazon. Gotta be something that takes your fancy.

The secret word is Income

A NOTE FROM NEWTON

A NOTE FROM NEWTON
Although he has little time or truck with dogs, Newton the cat is still somewhat concerned about the rumors that Purina’s Beneful dog food may actually be creating canine casualties, although some of the dogs in the linked report do live in Huntsville, Texas where I understand that breathing the air may be enough to kill a dog thanks to the petrochemical industry and one time Gov. George W. Bush’s loathing of the environment.

WHAT A LONG STRANGE WEEK IT'S BEEN

I have been, I guess, concentrating on aliens, implants, Lemmy, and other trivia for the last week or so, since in the real and deadly world, our elected representatives are so self-seeking scum-happy they devote time we don’t have to politically positioning themselves, via the minutiae of congressional procedure, and advancing their ’08 re-election agendas, while the killing and maiming goes on regardless, (and the mystery of the 363 tons of cash that went missing), and meanwhile we’re effectively distracted by pampered and possibly homicidal love-bugged astronauts. Aside from the horrendous civilian casualties, The New York Times suggests that the insurgents have evolved some painfully simple measures to take US military and contract merc choppers into Black Hawk Down reruns…
“Some aspects of the recent crashes indicate that insurgents have become smarter about anticipating American flight patterns and finding ways to use old weapons to down helicopters, according to military and witness reports. The aircraft, many of which are equipped with sophisticated antimissile technology, still can be vulnerable to more conventional weapons fired from the ground.”
And then Anna Nicole Smith drops dead as Elvis and I can’t help but wonder if one or more of her lawyer-manager-sleazeball-courtiers took a posture of by-any-means-necessary-with-extreme-prejudice and whacked the poor girl’s pathetic and confused ass. I mean, she’s stumbling Dairy Queen, OxyContin wreckage with a legal umbilical to around $100 million and – really – how hard would it be? You’d only have to leave enough dope in the plain sight and she’d do the rest herself. Right there in her suite at the Hardrock Casino. (And I’ve learned the hard way whereof I speak.)

All of which tends to push me in the direction of…

RUSSIAN FISHERMEN CATCH SQUEAKING ALIEN AND EAT IT
Village residents from the Rostov region of Russia caught a weird creature two weeks ago after a strong storm in the Sea of Azov. The shark-looking creature was producing strange squeaky sounds. The fishermen originally believed that they had caught an alien and decided to film the monster with the help of a cell phone camera. The footage clearly shows the creatures’ head, body and long tail. The bizarre catch was weighing almost 100 kilograms, the Komsomolskaya Pravda reports. (Supplied by Sabrina who must read Pravda)

And meanwhile our pal Christopher Rowley has two new chapters up on his online novel. Hit the link on the left and then click SF and then “Netherworld.”

“So Anna Nicole dropped dead, did she?”




And in the current LA CityBeat I am concerned about the spatial machinations of Gaius Baltar and Arianna Huffington.

THE FUTURE IS HERE

No, not that future. The other future. The nasty, real, here and now, future as sent over by our wonderful but pessimistic pal aeswiren…
"Amal has two RFID implants, one in each hand. His left hand contains a 3mm by 13mm EM4102 glass RFID tag that was implanted by a cosmetic surgeon using a scalpel to make a very small cut, into which the implant was placed. His right hand contains a 2mm by 12mm Philips HITAG 2048 S implant with crypto-security features and 255 bytes of read/write memory storage space. It was implanted by a family doctor using an Avid injector kit like the ones used on pets. He can access his front door, car door, and log into his computer using his implants." And this idiot thinks the whole idea is cool? For pics and a whole lot more on the subject.

The secret word is HAL

CRYPTIQUE – Prince or Snickers?

A LETTER FROM BOSS

Today a letter arrived from England, and, when I opened it, it turned out to be from Boss Goodman. For those of you who aren’t already aware, Boss was major player in many of our adventures over the years, from The Deviants, to The Pink Fairies, to Phun City, to Dingwalls Dance Hall, to the Town & Country club, to lumberjack pie, to the night be cooked dinner for Bill Clinton. Last spring he suffered a left-brain stroke and has been struggling to regain some degree of normality ever since. The picture above is of Boss and me in our revolutionary days prior to storming the David Frost Show.

The note, that is a major step forward, read…
YES
WEEKADCGOING
WASAGGOING
IT AS GOOD!
BOSS X

I’m making of it what I can, but as an offering to Boss, here are some clips of Gene Vincent that MrMR sent over.

The secret word is Endurance

THEY TOOK BOSTON!

The Mooninite entry from the Urban Dictionary. (See links on right.)

Two dimensional creatures that hail from the inner core of the moon. They are arrogant, are often bad influences on those who come in contact with them, and have the ability to shoot large square like projectiles from their moon weapons.They can be seen on the Adult Swim show Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Mooninites launched an attack on Earth in January 2007. They succeeded in shutting down Boston on Wednesday, January 31.

You’ve probably seen it all on TV already, with all the mandatory phony media outrage – “how dare you scare us with flashing lights when there’s a War on Terror, wah, wah, wah, wah" – and the two freaks responsible and the size of the one’s dreadlocks, but I’ve only just got in after doing some recording with Andy and then falling asleep on the couch after the beer I drank, so I haven’t had a real chance to the matter things through, but I know I recognise this guerrilla Dadaism of the highest order, even though it was weirdly promoting a corporate cartoon show, but that in itself may well be a sign of the new century. It also points up the abject cowardice of the average square. (And what about Boston's finest? Mother of God what a dumb and easily paniced bunch of assholes?)

The secret word is Envious

Now question wrestling with aliens.

TIME TO WRESTLE ALIENS PART 2

HCB posts a visual comment and the message, “You left out the primary Metalunan mutant motivation, (Bad) Faith Domergue!”

And you might wonder why we’re wasting so much time, space, and energy on whacked retro-alien trivia, when there’s so much else of so much more vital importance in the world. Well, my friends, the answer is that here at Doc40 we’re both biding our time and covering our bases. It would seem that the aliens might be back. First they buzzed Chicago and more recently Hawaii.
Also, despite all of the voices raised in universal condemnation, George W. fucking Bush seems bent on provoking some kind of military confrontation with Iran in the near future. The nuke-fear machine is cranking up, but, thank heavens, only the extreme wing nuts are listening. Unfortunately that doesn’t seem to deter either him or his Uncle Cheney, and they're just surging ahead.

And so I wait -- maybe for another instalment in the neocom apocalyse-soon -- having minimal if any fun, watching far too much TV, and concerning myself more with the Cylon menace than the Mamalukes of Islam.

The secret word is Juvenile

Molly Ivins -- RIP

"Freedom fighters don't always win, but they're always right."

TIME TO WRESTLE ALIENS

The imperative is inescapable, and thus I am unable to comment on much that is currently rushing through my mind, not least of which is whether, in the context of such a conflict, I myself might, in fact, be the alien, since humanity seems fundamentally a state of mind and not an especially amusing one at that. But that, in turn, begs the question -- should I turn out be alien, would I merely be a Metalunan with the elevated forehead or a full-blown Mutant? I fear that Gaius Baltar may turn out to be my hero for 2007, especially since they shot him up with the green acid. I still, of course, have to metastasize a tall invisible blonde with a glowing spine, and, so far, all I have managed is a six-foot alcoholic rabbit. But now I must go and yet again attempt to turn this cerebral dysfunction into a viable commodity. Such is the condition of my condition and the penalty of my profession.

In the meantime, Doug the Bass sent over Reg Kehoe and his Marimba Queens. Keep watching the bass player! Keep watching the bass player!

SAY WHAT? LEMMY? GAY?

“One of the most dangerous ways homosexuality invades family life is through popular music. Parents should keep careful watch over their children's listening habits.”

This warning is issued on a website called Love God’s Way that has to be seen to be believed. As well as citing Oscar Wilde as a "reformed homosexual", it includes a massive list of bands and artists it considers dangerous representatives of the homosexual conspiracy to corrupt the youth of America, and there, as you read down the list, you discover the name Motorhead. The mind boggles, not only at the idea of Lemmy – pictured above left, on stage with yours truly at London’s old Marquee club – being part of a gay conspiracy, but also that people who believe this nonsense inhabit, and have considerable political influence in, a global superpower with more than enough WMDs to destroy all of humanity.

The secret word is Aghast

Barabaro -- RIP

IT'S A GRAND OLD CANYON BUT...

…yet another reason the rest of the world is getting very nervous of the USA.

From the New Scientist
"The Grand Canyon was formed a few thousand years ago by Noah's flood, and not a few million years ago by geological forces, right? So says a glossy book still on sale in Grand Canyon National Park, despite scientists' protests.
The National Park Service has been promising to reconsider whether to sell the book since 2003 (New Scientist, 9 July 2005, p 8), but an investigation by the Washington DC-based pressure group Public Employees for Environmental Responsibility discovered that the review hasn't happened. PEER also charges the NPS with blocking the publication of a pamphlet which describes creationism as non-scientific and advises park rangers how to distinguish science from religion in explaining geology to the public.
NPS spokesman David Barna compares the park's bookshops to a public library, with books on "many alternative beliefs", adding "it is not our role to tell people what to believe".
However, PEER director Jeff Ruch says that by selling the book, the government-funded park is breaking its own rules by appearing to support a religion."

Or you could try this piece of nastiness pointed out by some girl, which will plainly be used against civilians. (As in us.)

The secret word is Flee

SHE'S BACK!

A NICE SUNDAY BREAKFAST

(Courtesy of egg, bacon, chips, and beans)

And then, after all that grease, and thanks to Wendy (who would be revolted by the above), we can watch Uncle Bill Burroughs purchase a parrot. (It's a silent film, there's nothing wrong with your computer.)

CRYPTIQUE -- I had a pony. His name was Lucifer.

FELINE BULLETIN

For fans of Newton the cat, (no, the picture is not of him but one of his better groomed stunt doubles) he was not well yesterday but, after considerable human attention and anxious words to multiple deities, he now appears restored to his to former healthily demanding disposition.





The secret word is Recovery