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Now that's Gonzo
Are on-topic posts still allowed? Did I fix the fonts this time? This template is a rats nest.

YOU DO NOW PAYNTER

everyone's a fucking comedian over on this blog, so what's one more administrator. please, fix the main font somehow--bump it up a couple points?

I'M TOO OLD TO READ SHIT THIS SMALL.

speaking of which, fishrush is a fucking genius.

and Turner's no slouch either.

although we're pretty smart too. for administrators.

frank I saw your book review over on blog critics--what, you're too good for us? aaaaaaaaah!

woof.

i'D fIX THE fONTS

BUt i heff no edmin privledges

On the Road Again

This week in Green Bay and Rhinelander, Wisconsin. Something Spooky up here. They have German language TV. Spreching of which, watch for my review of "The Spooky Art" coming in first draft to Sandhill Trek, and in a draft more polished to Blog Critics. And let's all wish Norman Mailer a happy 80th birthday tomorrow. Are you down with that Germaine?

this and that

this and that

Oops

Sorry - my fault when I turned the black background off again. Is this better?

teeny tiny fonts

okay, who made the font so tiny around here--the title and left nav bar font is outta control small. see what happens, you make everyone an administrator and the place rolls into chaos. YEAH BABE!

------

No I am George Walker Bush and my rectum hurts because I had to wear chaps at the ranch last week when I mounted that old mare--don't worry, my wife Barbara, oh dang I mean Laura, didn't mind. Ya'll need to put an undo button in this blogger thing because when I clicked on the text I wrote it plum disappeared.

About that oil. Yes I like oil. My wife Barbara, I mean larua, makes some nice garden salad with oil and vinegar and so I'm not afraid to kill for oil.

-----

HOW ABOUT THAT BORING FUCKING SUPERBOWLZzzzzzzzzzzzzz

i have absolutely nothing to contribute this evening.

but i wish someone would fix the font back up nice and tidy.

------

ya'll take care, yahear?

Blame Paynter

IMMEDIATE ATTENTION NEEDED :
HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL
FROM: GEORGE WALKER BUSH
202.456.1414 / 202.456.1111
FAX: 202.456.2461

DEAR SIR / MADAM,
I AM GEORGE WALKER BUSH, SON OF THE FORMER PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA GEORGE HERBERT WALKER BUSH, AND CURRENTLY SERVING AS PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. THIS LETTER MIGHT SURPRISE YOU BECAUSE WE HAVE NOT MET NEITHER IN PERSON NOR BY CORRESPONDENCE. I CAME TO KNOW OF YOU IN MY SEARCH FOR A RELIABLE AND REPUTABLE PERSON TO HANDLE A VERY CONFIDENTIAL BUSINESS TRANSACTION, WHICH INVOLVES THE TRANSFER OF A HUGE SUM OF MONEY TO AN ACCOUNT REQUIRING MAXIMUM CONFIDENCE.

I AM WRITING YOU IN ABSOLUTE CONFIDENCE PRIMARILY TO SEEK YOUR ASSISTANCE IN ACQUIRING OIL FUNDS THAT ARE PRESENTLY TRAPPED IN THE REPUBLIC OF IRAQ. MY PARTNERS AND I SOLICIT YOUR ASSISTANCE IN COMPLETING A TRANSACTION BEGUN BY MY FATHER, WHO HAS LONG BEEN ACTIVELY ENGAGED IN THE EXTRACTION OF PETROLEUM IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, AND BRAVELY SERVED HIS COUNTRY AS DIRECTOR OF THE UNITED STATES CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY. IN THE DECADE OF THE NINETEEN-EIGHTIES, MY FATHER, THEN VICE-PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, SOUGHT TO WORK WITH THE GOOD OFFICES OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRAQ TO REGAIN LOST OIL REVENUE SOURCES IN THE NEIGHBORING ISLAMIC REPUBLIC OF IRAN. THIS UNSUCCESSFUL VENTURE WAS SOON FOLLOWED BY A FALLING OUT WITH HIS IRAQI PARTNER, WHO SOUGHT TO ACQUIRE ADDITIONAL OIL REVENUE SOURCES IN THE NEIGHBORING EMIRATE OF KUWAIT, A WHOLLY-OWNED U.S.-BRITISH SUBSIDIARY.


MY FATHER RE-SECURED THE PETROLEUM ASSETS OF KUWAIT IN 1991 AT A COST OF SIXTY-ONE BILLION U.S. DOLLARS ($61,000,000,000). OUT OF THAT COST, THIRTY-SIX BILLION DOLLARS ($36,000,000,000) WERE SUPPLIED BY HIS PARTNERS IN THE KINGDOM OF SAUDI ARABIA AND OTHER PERSIAN GULF MONARCHIES, AND SIXTEEN BILLION DOLLARS ($16,000,000,000) BY GERMAN AND JAPANESE PARTNERS. BUT MY FATHER'S FORMER IRAQI BUSINESS PARTNER REMAINED IN CONTROL OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRAQ AND ITS PETROLEUM RESERVES. MY FAMILY IS CALLING FOR YOUR URGENT ASSISTANCE IN FUNDING THE REMOVAL OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRAQ AND ACQUIRING THE PETROLEUM ASSETS OF HIS COUNTRY, AS COMPENSATION FOR THE COSTS OF REMOVING HIM FROM POWER. UNFORTUNATELY, OUR PARTNERS FROM 1991 ARE NOTWILLING TO SHOULDER THE BURDEN OF THIS NEW VENTURE, WHICH IN ITS UPCOMING PHASE MAY COST THE SUM OF 100 BILLION TO 200 BILLION DOLLARS ($100,000,000,000 - $200,000,000,000), BOTH IN THE INITIAL ACQUISITION AND IN LONG-TERM MANAGEMENT.

WITHOUT THE FUNDS FROM OUR 1991 PARTNERS, WE WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO ACQUIRE THE OIL REVENUE TRAPPED WITHIN IRAQ. THAT IS WHY MY FAMILY AND OUR COLLEAGUES ARE URGENTLY SEEKING YOUR GRACIOUS ASSISTANCE. OUR DISTINGUISHED COLLEAGUES IN THIS BUSINESS TRANSACTION INCLUDE THE SITTING VICE-PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, RICHARD CHENEY, WHO IS AN ORIGINAL PARTNER IN THE IRAQ VENTURE AND FORMER HEAD OF THE HALLIBURTON OIL COMPANY, AND CONDOLEEZA RICE, WHOSE PROFESSIONAL DEDICATION TO THE VENTURE WAS DEMONSTRATED IN THE NAMING OF A CHEVRON OIL TANKER AFTER HER.

I WOULD BESEECH YOU TO TRANSFER A SUM EQUALING TEN TO TWENTY-FIVE PERCENT (10-25 %) OF YOUR YEARLY INCOME TO OUR ACCOUNT TO AID IN THIS IMPORTANT VENTURE. THE INTERNAL REVENUE SERVICE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA WILL FUNCTION AS OUR TRUSTED INTERMEDIARY. I PROPOSE THAT YOU MAKE THIS TRANSFER BEFORE THE FIFTEENTH (15TH) OF THE MONTH OF APRIL.

I KNOW THAT A TRANSACTION OF THIS MAGNITUDE WOULD MAKE ANYONE APPREHENSIVE AND WORRIED. BUT I AM ASSURING YOU THAT ALL WILL BE WELL AT THE END OF THE DAY. A BOLD STEP TAKEN SHALL NOT BE REGRETTED, I ASSURE YOU. PLEASE DO BE INFORMED THAT THIS BUSINESS TRANSACTION IS 100% LEGAL. IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO CO-OPERATE IN THIS TRANSACTION, PLEASE CONTACT OUR INTERMEDIARY REPRESENTATIVES TO FURTHER DISCUSS THE MATTER.

I PRAY THAT YOU UNDERSTAND OUR PLIGHT. MY FAMILY AND OUR COLLEAGUES WILL BE FOREVER GRATEFUL. PLEASE REPLY IN STRICT CONFIDENCE TO THE CONTACT NUMBERS BELOW.

SINCERELY WITH WARM REGARDS,

GEORGE WALKER BUSH

Switchboard: 202.456.1414
Comments: 202.456.1111
Fax: 202.456.2461
Email: president@whitehouse.gov

- ripped from fp's public space for self and other expression.

Lovely weekend to all

And here again I am without the net connectinon. DirecTVdsl is going out of business and I am cut off. Been like that for a week. (who fell on their head as a child and came up with direcTVdsl name for a Satellite TV DSL service over phone lines? it's as if someone came up with a name-brand 'Microsoft Wheels Pedaling Vehicle' instead of a common Bicycle. One would then have to start looking for the presence of the operating system before placing one's boots on the pedals, well, never mind...not funny at all)

Can't use Net at work (well, I could but I have been reprimended several times already and since noone hires trouble-makers these days.. (well, never mind...)) - OK, where were we? Aha, the DSL troubles which are not trobules at all considering the troubles Fast Company has with modality. So we say Hello to Melinda Davis who knows how to achieve with modality and self referrential narrative what thousands have tried to achieve with real substance and soul searching. Thanks Tom for the link

Update 30 minutes late: (Ahem, yes I was being a smart ass mentioning Melinda Davis. it's quite hard to contextualize one's immediate sarcastic reactions to such a vulgar display of marketing obviousness. One would have to have the ability to generate blinding flashes of obvious brilliance at the snap of the finger (or one's elastic band in italian underwear (the snap of elastic of course and not italian finger... gosh... when will you finally learn to think beneath the noise of words?... Never mind...)

And now for something completely the same:
This weekend I will be hard at work applying Imaginative Pastures License Tehchnology to all the posts, articles and snippets of brilliant thoughts I have produced in the last 3 years. It will be a weekend filled with fingerlicking goodness. Yum Yum. Good day.

Another Floyd Kick

Arnold Kling had a strange hobby
Collecting crap
Moonshine bottom line
They suit him fine
On the wall hung a tall mirror
Distorted view, see through baby blue
Oh, Arnold Kling
It's not the same, takes two to know Two to know, two to know
Why can't you see? Arnold Kling, Arnold Kling, Arnold Kling, Arnold Kling

Now he's caught - a nasty sort of person
They gave him time
Doors bang - chain gang - he hates it
Oh, Arnold Kling
It's not the same, takes two to know
Two to know, two to know
Why can't you see?
Arnold Kling, Arnold Kling, Arnold Kling

Arnold Kling, Don't do it again

Clay Flips off Hilary

Clay Shirky, lately of this parish, suggests we apply Gonzo principles to the music industry's A&R schemes. The next day, Hilary Rosen resigns.
Who'll help me build it?

by golly he's got it!

Denise, thanks for letting us know what sushi-boy is up to. I have evaluated his technology and currently see no flaws with either his production model or supply chain. In fact, to me, it seems as if it is all pretty legit and actually a very cost effective way to share our scents:



Technology reminds us never to take ourselves too seriously.

Sushi Anyone?

With wasabe and marmalade, please.

use this unique flexible word more often in your daily speech

"fuck"

poetry is the solution poetry is the solution poetry?

"I don't know what I've been looking for, maybe me" ~ Shawn Mullins

I said "I don't reckon i'll be
makin it big,
you know it's hard to get rich
with this blogging shit"

and he said "yeah, but ain't it a blessin
to do what you wanna do..."

and I told him "yeah, I pulled off here
to watch the sun disappear into the ocean
`cause it's been years
since I smelled this salty sea"

I might just lay here
and dream my life away

Ashcroft's Red Crayons migthier than the pen of Eldred

Supreme Court has ruled. Where do we go from here? Who are we now? hmm.... maybe we can quote some Aziz Nesin

... so I assumed the name of "Nesin" (What-are-you?). I wanted to think of what I was and pull myself together whenever anyone called "What-are-you?". In 1937 I became an officer, you know, a Napoleon. Well really, I was merely one of the Napoleons. Every new officer thinks himself Napoleon. Some of them never recover from this sickness; it lasts a whole lifetime. Others are cured after awhile. ''Napoleonitis'' is a dangerous and contagious disease. The symptoms are these: The victims think only of Napoleon's victories, never of his defeats; they are prone to tuck a right hand between jacket buttons; they stand before a map of the world, drawing arrows with a red crayon and, after subjugating and occupying the entire world in five minutes, regret that the world is so small. ... As a fresh young officer, twenty-two or twenty-three, I conquered the world a few times on the map with a red crayon"

~ from Aziz Nasim

And so the Public Domain has a lot of red crayon smears all over it. I guess all we ever asked for is to - "please put your red crayons away for a while". (Maybe, please don't smear all over the place). Alas the Red Crayon marks remain for many years.

Thanks Kevin to a pointer of Donna's Excellent Copyfight notes

Limited Times

This blog is black today as the US Supreme Court decided 7-2 against overturning the 1998 copyright extension.
Time to start a campaign for a congressional bill repealing it instead.

ahem

Fe fo fom! She jist does hopes till byes will be byes. Here, and it goes on to appear now, she comes, a peacefugle, a parody's bird, a peri potmother, a pringlpik in the ilandiskippy, with peewee and powwows in beggybaggy on her bickybacky and a flick flask fleckflinging its pixylighting pacts' huemeramybows, picking here, pecking there, pussypussy plunderpussy.

This moment from writing in history is nothing more than the recursive call of the vulgata blogata.

is the space between blogs a conversation, a question, an answer, a placebo?

This is just a rough draft of a blog entry that's in the process of denying its usefulness.

Fishrush offers some rough notes toward a perplexification of a question some of us have been wondering about...

graveyard poem

by jim morrison...

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

An email from Marek - Rewriting John Maynard Keynes in 2003

"The power to become habituated to his surroundings is a marked characteristic
of mankind. Very few of us realise with conviction the intensely unusual,
unstable, complicated, unreliable, temporary nature of the economic
organisation by which American Command and Control Narcissistic Elite
Coroporations have lived for the last century.

We assume some of the most peculiar and temporary of our late advantages in
technology as natural, permanent, and to be depended on - and we lay our plans
accordingly, and on this sandy and false foundation we scheme for social
improvement and dress our political platforms, pursue our animosities and
particular ambitions...(Hello to all you guys in Washington D.C.)

The outward aspect of life does not yet teach us to feel or realise in the
least that an age is over. We are busy picking up the threads of our life where
we dropped them, with this difference only, that many of us seem a good deal
poorer than we were before - with our hopes of winning a lottery in the land of
somewhere, someday.

Where we wasted billions before (Yo, Enron boys.), we have now learnt that we
can spend hundreds of billions (on two fronts) and apparently not suffer for it
(Yo Mister President.) We look, therefore, not only to a return to the
comforts of 1980s, but to an immense broadening and intensification of them.
All classes alike thus build their plans, the rich to spend more and save less,
the poor to spend more and work less (rising tide lifs all the boats, Yeah
baby.)

But perhaps it is only in Amerika (Para Espanol press numero dos) that it is
possible to be so unconscious. In the rest of the world the earth heaves and no
one but is aware of the rumblings. There it is not just a matter of
extravagance or 'labour troubles'; but of life and death (Yo, my people in
Somalia), of starvation and existence (Yo, my people in Sudan), and of the
fearful convulsions of a dying civilisation (Farewell to you Arabian Nights of
Kurdistan)

In this winter of 2003 in which I write, we are at the dead season of our
fortunes. The reaction from the exertions, the fears, and the sufferings of the
past years is at its height. Our power of feeling or caring beyond the
immediate questions of our own material well-being is temporarily eclipsed. We
have been moved already beyond endurance, and need rest. Never in the lifetime
of men now living has the universal element in the soul of man burnt so dimly.
For these reasons the true voice of the new generation has not yet spoken"

Thank you for your attention
Marek J
---
The above was appropriated, reconfigured and adapted from John Maynard Keynes's
introduction to "The Economic Consequences of the Peace" in the year of Our Lord, The Decimal System 1919.

P.S. Thanks Tom for posting. I didn't have means during the day.

Looking for James Joyce's Grave

and Andy White sings...

"I found his grave
high on a hill right beside the zoo
with a beautiful view of the city
first I saw the crosslegged
bookholding cigarette smoking statue
specs slicked hair the fiery wiry
keeper and crucifier of his country's conscience
and all of our unconscious
in an autumn crescent of gold green and brown
I brushed fallen leaves off the inscription plaque
which was just beside the zoo
with a beautiful view of the city"

On January 13th, 1941 James Joyce did a Bada Bing.

Romain Rolland: Colas Breugnon - Dobrý èlovek ešte žije

I can't find any english texts about the novel "Colas Breugnon", the masterpiece of Romain Rolland so I am quoting in Czech and Polish

"Colas Breugnon: umelec - rezbár, meš�an burgundského mesta Clamecy, poctivý, dobrého srdca so zdravou galskou veselos�ou, vierou v život a láskou k nemu. Pomocou týchto vlastností prekonáva všetky �ažkosti a vždy a radostne, smelo pozerá v ústrety k novým dòom, i keï vopred vie, že zase budú �ažké a trpké. Vie sa vždy zmieri� aj s najhorším neš�astím, nestráca nikdy humor, ktorý je zdrojom jeho životnej múdrosti, životného optimizmu."

Some tidbits: "Colas Breugnon" was a challenge for Valdimir Nabokov to translate into Russian and he did a fine job
Amazon.com has a book but you have to special order it and there is no English review. Amazon France has a review in French which I translated using google translatador contraption: "At fifty years, Breugnon Colas, robust country Burgundian of the XVII century, believes to have gained drinks it to blow a little. A pot the wine on its line, a book and a encrier in front of him, it undertakes to tell it. To tell what? All, tales of formerly and life as it is, the lived anecdote and good stories, at the rate/rhythm of the festivals and village work. The priest Short, the as faithful one to the Bottle as with the gate vault. The shepherd, the wolf and the lamb, lucid fable on the small ones of this world, always victims, even of those which claim to protect them... All that gives flesh to a rustic wisdom, rabelaisienne and lucid. "

Lovely book. Great reading. I have a copy in Polish published in 1987 and it's time to read the book again.
Did I mention Rolland got a Nobel Prize in Literature in 1915

Swety Marcin pije wino
Wode pozostawia mlynom
(french proverb in polish)

The Light outside 4 walls

This from Jeneane - "You watch children in the country, and you know this is how it's supposed to be. Family insanity and dysfunction can't penetrate the thick borders of nature.
Inside the house, there isn't much sunlight, not much growth, stagnant. Destruction courtesy of adults.
But outside is the children's domain."

EGR: Burning Down The World

We are not trying to prove the world's existence. We are trying to imagine it. Together.

The together part is where the real problems begin. I can have
visions, as can you. Natural selection, celestial mechanics,
superstrings. Tarot readings, intuition, love. Are these two
categories or one? Faith and proof are at war to know, while sugar
plums dance in our heads. If all you've got is a computer, everything
looks like a cognitive process. If all you've got is paradise,
everyone looks like a lion or a lamb

A tribute to Edward Lear's nonsense

The AlphaMale and The Pussy went to the sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat:
They took some honey, lubricant and money
Wrapped up in a five dollar note.
The AlphaMale looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!

For another bedtime story please leave a message after the beep... BEEP...

Bada Bing translated into 100 languages in 24 hours.

With the help of hundreds of Bloggers worldwide (Yo, what's up Kisha in Kinshasa and Robo in Kosovo) we have been able to complete the impossible task of translating the famous phrase Bada Bing into 100 languages in 24 hours. Here we go.

English: Bada Bing
Polish: Bada Bing (Ba in Bada pronounced as Ba, as in Bada)
Kroatian: Bada Bing (alternative translation is Bada Bing)
Slolvenian: Baada Bjng
Czech: Bada Bjng (similar to Slovenian but the 'j' is longer)
Vietnamese: Baaaaddddaaaa Biiiinnngg (high pitched voice. Screaming)
Chinese: Bada Bing (tonal Ba and Bi. da and ng flat.)
Swahili: Bada Bing (the 'i' is tonal)
Hausa: Bada Bing
Yoruba: Bad Bing
German: Das Ist ein Bada Bing wahr schnitzel (it helps to say it while drinking beer)
Latin: Badass Bingus (we had to make this one up a little since Latins is a dead language and no Vatican Cardinals are blogging yet)
French: Le Terril de Bada
Swedish: Bad a Bin g (thanks to Josef from Stockholm)
Spanish: Una Bada Binga
Portugese: Bing De Bada (not sure if it's correct)
Hungarian: Badaz Za Bingaz
Romanian: Ba dada Bing (thanks to Tristan Tzara for help with translation)
Danish: Bada Bing
Russian: Bada Bjnn (g at the end of Bjnn is silent. 'a' in Bada is soft and wet like pussy)
Italian: Bingi Di Bada
Korean: Bada nuka Bing Bomb

RB made me do it.
OK, so it's only about 20ish. Translate the rest yourself.
Bada Bing to you all.

Get your war On

When Kissinger signs a U.S Governamet paycheck, does he use a ballpoint pen, or the bloody, severed limb of an East Timorese child