Thursday, February 09, 2012
FARCEBOOK
While I use Facebook for my own gratification, communication, and promotion I’m under no illusion that it’s anything but two-way street of exploitation and the action is transactional. Thus I’m glad The New York Times has finally discover the social network danger of stereotyping and data aggregation.
“Stereotyping is alive and well in data aggregation. Your application for credit could be declined not on the basis of your own finances or credit history, but on the basis of aggregate data — what other people whose likes and dislikes are similar to yours have done. If guitar players or divorcing couples are more likely to renege on their credit-card bills, then the fact that you’ve looked at guitar ads or sent an e-mail to a divorce lawyer might cause a data aggregator to classify you as less credit-worthy. When an Atlanta man returned from his honeymoon, he found that his credit limit had been lowered to $3,800 from $10,800. The switch was not based on anything he had done but on aggregate data. A letter from the company told him, “Other customers who have used their card at establishments where you recently shopped have a poor repayment history with American Express.” (Click here for the whole thing)
REMEMBERING SOUL TRAIN
RBP/Yahoo have reprinted my account of a visit to the Soul Train set back in the 1970s.
“An incredibly beautiful, tall slim girl drifts by. She has a huge afro, skin tight Iron Boy overalls, elaborate platforms and pounds of Navajo silver and turquoise jewellery. Her friend is encased in the full Marilyn Monroe black sequined sheath dress drag and a blonde wig that contrasts stunningly with her light brown skin and black lipstick. They stop and chat with an almost executive a looking boy. He wears a collar, tie and very English cut suit, wide lapels, narrow shoulders and a nipped in waist. His whole images is careful except that the suit is a flaming orange, his shirt a pale lemon yellow, and his tie a riot of red William Morris. The profusion of style variations is so fast and intense that it's almost like being taken back to the heady days of high mod in London. (Click here for the whole thing)
Click here for James Brown
Tuesday, February 07, 2012
WHEN THE MIND CONTROL BUTTERFLIES COME, WE’LL BE READY FOR THEM
I had not heard about mind control butterflies until our pal Elf Hellion (who else?) dropped it on me last week. But now, after a little research among the Real Crazy Paranoids And Their Ilk I discover that our gaily-winged friends are probably going to be a sources of endless speculative fun and may even make a major debut in the novella on which I am currently working. (A major – but commissioned – secret that will be revealed in good time.) I love this shit!
“One of the best kept secrets in history is the Monarch Mind-control programming which uses trauma-based mind control along with state of the art mind control to create humans who are totally controlled by a 'handler’ without even knowing that they are controlled. This is accomplished by sophisticated use of the brain's ability to disassociate, which is used to the extreme to create structured multiple-personality- disordered minds. For an extremely technical definition of what the Monarch program was: it was used as US Department of Defense code name for a subsection of the CIA's Operation Artichoke which is also known as Project MK-Ultra. However, this technical definition is misleading because the Monarch programming under various names such as marionette programming has been going on since the Nazis.” Click here for more
Click here for the video
The secret word is Flap
Sunday, February 05, 2012
WELL, I ASK YOU…
A thirty year anniversary, Argentinean protesters throw rocks at Brit offices in Buenos Aires, the sheep still outnumber the Falkland Islanders who still seem to be living in 1952, Cameron sends Prince William in a gunboat, exploratory oil drilling takes place off the Malvinas/Falklands, a Facebook cause wants to stop Margaret Thatcher being given a Reagan-style state funeral when the bitch kicks off, and Meryl Streep plays her in the movie. My head spins. Who exactly is promoting what?
Click here for Robert Wyatt
Click here for Robert Wyatt
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
DOWN MEMORY LANE
Or, to be precise, down Santa Monica Boulevard back in Hollywood in the 1990s, when – on the way to the drugstore or one of my favorite bars – I would pass the "Undie World of Lili St. Cyr" a lingerie store owned and operated by the legendary stripper who was alleged to have been an nearly role model for Marilyn Monroe. If my memory serves me (which it may not) it was between a dry cleaners and a donut shop. (Although, from the ad it seerms that the mailorder office was on Melrose.) The story was that the store was manned by a crew of little old ladies who were all ex-strippers who’d found a semi-retirement working for Lili. The weird part was that I’d always imagined the strippers of the 1940s and 1050s to be tall and statuesque, but in all of them, including Lili herself, were little tiny women.
Click here for The Cramps
The secret word is Grind
ELVIS & SCIENTOLOGY
Our pal Postcriptus sent us this gem of an insight…
“I'm reading a history of Scientology. Peggy Lipton at one point got Elvis to go into the Scientology center on Sunset. They start testing him, but Elvis soon comes back out saying, "Fuck these people! There's no way I'll ever get involved with this son-of-a-bitchin' group. All they want is my money." Not only is this a revelation that many of his peers failed ever to have, but his initial reaction shows that here was a man who either had little in the way of self doubt; or if he had it, then also had the moral fiber to deal with it on his own terms.”
Click here for a party.
PAINTED TALLULAH
I lifted this from the blog of Anthony Brockway for no other reason that I’ve always admired the celebrated Bankhead…
“What a meeting it must have been when Augustus John painted Tallulah Bankhead in 1929. The Welsh artist, famous for his scandalous behaviour and voracious sexual appetite, in the same room as Bankhead the American actress, famous for her scandalous behaviour and voracious sexual appetite.”
“What a meeting it must have been when Augustus John painted Tallulah Bankhead in 1929. The Welsh artist, famous for his scandalous behaviour and voracious sexual appetite, in the same room as Bankhead the American actress, famous for her scandalous behaviour and voracious sexual appetite.”
Sunday, January 29, 2012
SUNDAY BREAKFAST
In nomine Patris et fillii et Spiritus Sancti and a hatful of McFries. What more does a poor boy need to get to heaven?
Click here for Dies Irae
The secret word is Sanctum
Click here for Dies Irae
The secret word is Sanctum
MARILYN SEZ...
“Neither the Pope nor Chairman Mao had to play paddle ball with drunken cowboys staring at their ass.”
JONESEY AND THE XENOMORPH
For some years I have been working in semi secrecy on a book of short stories all from the point of view of cats. (Publishers take note.) The half finished collection contains tales of feral felines and mendacious moggies, but also celebrity cats. I have already written the first scene from The Godfather from the POV of the cat in Marlon’s lap, and I had planned a reworking of Alien as told Jonesey the cat but (goddamn it) author Anne Billson beat me to the punch…
“Nostromo is making hysterical hooting noises and flashing its lights on and off. This is all rather exciting, but as I’m being ferried through the passages and walkways I feel helpless, and would really rather be free to run around. Also, the can-opener is hurling herself around like nobody’s business, so it’s not a smooth journey, I can tell you. Anyhow we roll to a stop, and I can tell straightaway it’s because we’ve run slap-dab into the hairless kitten again. Only I’m not sure I can call it a kitten any more – it’s really big now. Honestly, it’s like a super-giant cat. But since it’s still only a few hours old and clearly hasn’t been housetrained and hasn’t a clue how to groom itself or behave in can-opener company, I shall continue to call it a kitten. Because, technically, that’s what it is.” (Click here for more)
Friday, January 27, 2012
UNDISCOVERED WOODY
I see happy school kids singing Woody Guthrie’s "This Land is Your Land," unaware that Woody was a card-carrying communist, a lifelong supporter of the IWW, and that the song was written as a protest against the banal apple-pie patriotism of Irving Berlin's "God Bless America." "This Land is Your Land" was originally titled "God Bless America for Me," and the original chorus used that line instead of "this land was made for you and me." And, of course, the apple pie version always leaves out the last two verses.
This land is your land, this land is my land
From California, to the New York Island
From the redwood forest, to the gulf stream waters
This land was made for you and me
As I was walking a ribbon of highway
I saw above me an endless skyway
I saw below me a golden valley
This land was made for you and me
I've roamed and rambled and I've followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts
And all around me a voice was sounding
This land was made for you and me
The sun comes shining as I was strolling
The wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling
The fog was lifting a voice come chanting
This land was made for you and me
As I was walkin' I saw a sign there
And that sign said trespassin'
But on the other side it didn't say nothin!
Now that side was made for you and me!
In the squares of the city - In the shadow of the steeple
Near the relief office - I see my people
And some are hungey and some are wonderin'
If this land's still made for you and me.
Click here for Bruce and the whole tune
The secret word is Dustbowl
This land is your land, this land is my land
From California, to the New York Island
From the redwood forest, to the gulf stream waters
This land was made for you and me
As I was walking a ribbon of highway
I saw above me an endless skyway
I saw below me a golden valley
This land was made for you and me
I've roamed and rambled and I've followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts
And all around me a voice was sounding
This land was made for you and me
The sun comes shining as I was strolling
The wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling
The fog was lifting a voice come chanting
This land was made for you and me
As I was walkin' I saw a sign there
And that sign said trespassin'
But on the other side it didn't say nothin!
Now that side was made for you and me!
In the squares of the city - In the shadow of the steeple
Near the relief office - I see my people
And some are hungey and some are wonderin'
If this land's still made for you and me.
Click here for Bruce and the whole tune
The secret word is Dustbowl
Friday, January 20, 2012
WAR – FOR WANT OF A BETTER WORD – IS GOOD
This memoir of A.A. Milne (of Winnie the Pooh fame) makes me wonder if the mindset of the fat cat elite of 98 years ago was really any different to that of the fat cat elite of today.
"A.A. (Alan) Milne says in his autobiography that he would have liked to ignore the four years he spent in the army. 'I should like to put asterisks here, and then write 'It was in 1919 that I found myself once again a civilian.' For it makes me almost physically sick to think of that nightmare of mental and moral degradation, the war.' But of course the war cannot be ignored. In 1914, no one (reader, writer, or hero) can ignore history. Milne overheard hideous talk in the smoking-rooms of golf clubs and recorded it in the issue of Punch that came out the day after war was declared. 'What England wants,' someone said, leaning back and puffing at his cigar - he was, of course, himself well past military age - 'What England wants is a war. (Another whisky and soda, waiter.) We're getting flabby. All this pampering of the poor is playing the very deuce with the country. A bit of a scrap with a foreign power would do us all the good in the world.' He disposed of his whisky at a draught. 'We're flabby,' he repeated. 'The lower classes seem to have no discipline nowadays. We want a war to brace us up.'"
Click here for Frankie
The secret word is Bayonet
Johnny Otis – RIP
Etta James – RIP
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
TANKS FOR THE DRUG WAR
Remember the cocaine submarine? Now we have drug tanks. Seemingly the bad-ass Mexican narco crews are creating their own panzer divisions. Police found this armored dope-mobile war wagon in a metalworking shop. I would yet again point out that all this would vanish like the morning mist if legalization removed the criminal profit motive, but who the hell listens to me?
“The completed versions were bigger than what has been found before. Built on three-axle truck beds, they had room for 20 armed men, one official said. They were covered with inch-thick steel, which could withstand 50-caliber fire, and each had been equipped with insulation. The Mexican Army officials do not seem particularly intimidated. They have criticized the machines for being difficult to maneuver, noting that they are designed to frighten rivals. But for most Mexicans, the mere sight of the seized narco-rhino monsters in military photographs offers a stark reminder that in the battle against crime here there is no place more dangerous than Mexico’s roads.”
Click here for Gene Vincent
The secret word is Sherman
READ ALL ABOUT IT
There’s a rather nice interview with me in the current issue of Word magazine. Click here for the website but I think you may have to pick up a real paper magazine to read the interview.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
SUNDAY BREAKFAST
Breakfast with the iguana? What can I say today? He is the lizard king. He can do anything.
Click here for an extended dueling banjo.
NOSFERATU DIY
In the last decade I labored long and hard on what came to be known as The Renquist Quartet, four modern-gothic novels on a nosferatu theme that had little if nothing to do with the bloody vampire nonsense we currently see in the cinema and on TV. Maybe, of course, that was my mistake, but that hardly seems relevant now tales of the undead can be composed with magnets.
Click here for the Victor Renquist Facebook page. (Not, I might add, created by me.)
ALL I HAVE TO DO IS SCREAM
I sometimes wonder how Edvard Munch would have felt if he knew that his most celebrated painting was reproduced on t-shirts, fridge magnets, and in inflatable plastic. These are his words on the inspiration behind epic painting. I’d never read them before and thus I pass them on…
“I was walking along a path with two friends – the sun was setting – suddenly the sky turned blood red – I paused, feeling exhausted, and leaned on the fence – there was blood and tongues of fire above the blue-black fjord and the city – my friends walked on, and I stood there trembling with anxiety – and I sensed an infinite scream passing through nature.”
Click here for the animated version.
Friday, January 13, 2012
TRISKAIDEKAPHOBIA STRIKES!
It’s Friday 13th. I’m hiding under the bed. Don’t tell them I’m here!
Click here for The Move
The secret word is Irrational
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