A Life Lived Loving UFO Documentaries

So when it gets to be nighttime, post evenin’ activities (of course), while others count endless amounts of barnyard animals, you will find me staring, open mouthed, maybe drooling just a bit (like Rock Stars do) watching and endless supply of UFO documentaries. The specifics are irrelevant. It is always this guy saw that and that Government said its that. And no body believes anyone. And for reasons unknown, this endless babble equate to the sound of pan flutes and gentle rain on my consciousness and I drift away into a dreamless sleep.

I think it has something to do with my wiring. I think listening to other people work out impossible problems while tucked away under a blanket is my version of Meditation. It comes with certain rhythms, certain symmetry of repeating phrases (Conspiracy, Hopkinsville, Area 51, Wright….. Conspiracy, Hopkinsville, Area 52, Wright…. I can barely type this without falling into a bliss rut)

Let me say this clearly: I believe in UFO’s (and not mainly cause I am a stoner…but…) and if you do not, you need to make the math work. If you can convince me that everything from Ancient Aliens to Best UFO’s Ever Caught On Tape (yes, that was the 80’s one.) is just one big grift, I welcome this.

Life is a mess of expected outcomes. You are born and (in the best case) you grow old. What mystifies you as a child now hangs from your rear view mirror. Bright and shiny things to catch your eye and let the World outside ran around uncaught. We are lacking mysteries these days. We are too smart and far to dumb to do anything other than plunder every dark corner with information, obligation to set everything in a the proper light.

I like the sound of rain. I love the sound of our chimes ringing on the porch. I enjoy the ageless whistle of the train. But to put me into that real rest driven mood, I need endless white people spouting pseudo science. Not UFO specific….any ole’ clap trap will do.

I love theorists. Not theory so much as the people who put the time in to make these ideas bubble above the surface of their minds. Like the Ancient Aliens trick of saying ‘Ancient Alien theorists believe….’…which lends type of gravity to whatever they are saying…but a theorist is someone with an idea. You are a theorists. I am too. I have theories on UFO’s. And lunch. Cats. How to achieve that dead eyed look while living the Life of Reilly.

We are all defectives….wait……detectives…..and this World is our gritty city to bring into focus. Its our city to learn, to believe, to disbelieve the residents. We are allowed to create mystery where the World wrings them out, one by one.

It takes a special type of human gall to reason out the lack of Bigfeet running around is based on the idea that they are inter dimensional creatures.

Its takes a village to deny a village ever existed on the floor of the sea.

It takes a networks worth of pseudo science to put this boy to sleep.

A Life Lived Loving UFO Documentaries

Click Bait For A Grateful Nation

Profane ideas and anarchy
The atmosphere slips from static to rabid
Spotlights spin and kill the battery
Bodies in the basement, heads in the attic
Seduce with cruelty, destroy with flattery
Amping up the electrical addict
Cigarette City, Celebrity nudity
with every cheap exchange shot cinematic

Bad weather, good natured
Green means stop, red means floor it
Watching the watchmen and tablature
Fight it, Fuck it, Ignore It
Social scavenger, local massacre
Ramming speed, four on the floor it
Breaking down the unnatural ambassador
If you can’t join it, deplore it

No regrets but no one forgets
Your ass is a star but your still on the dole
No regrets but no one forgets
You sold your soul without a loop hole
No regrets but no one forgets
You bought in for a bigger role
No regrets but no one forgets
No regrets but no one forgets

Sex and state and God and fury
Fear and truth the line is blurry
Peace and love and fascist fashions
Click Bait For A Grateful Nation

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Click Bait For A Grateful Nation

Is Distraction Contagious?

I have things to do. I am very important.

I have a record to record. And a spaceship to acquire. A set to write (for next week’s Wandering Uterus show at Mac 650 on Main Street Middletown, CT! Ahem).

Busy, busy boy. So why can’t I do any of it while I trip away the day reading about Fyre Fest?

At first I thought I was having a mental block. After further thought, I believe it is your fault. Yup. Allllll you. It’s a social issue clearly as I am the tippy top of mental health. Right? Right (answer the voices back).

Distraction. Where is was often a much used word, it is now a craze. It is muttered at screens and speakers, responsible for late arrivals. Conversations about the distractions we deal with personally and communally become conversations that distract us from what we should be doing. Which is…living, I guess. Playing in the flowers and fishing and shit.

You see it clearly at play in the White House, and I wonder if we will ever not fall for it.

We LOVE to outraged. The GALL of whatever impossible stupidity that gets spoken aloud. And we can not help but take the bait. We whisper ‘distraction’ beneath our breath and then weigh into the ridiculous debate that really never deserved to be debated.

As we speak and get all self righteous, a much more malignant and meaningful monster slips in the door. Or a much more important bit of evidence gets lost in the fray about if the president knows much about history. (He doesn’t but this is not new information).

So it is Trumps fault? My personal distraction? I wish. (Remember. It is your fault)

No. It is deeper. And maybe even more ugly.

Why was Fyre Fest such a media event. It is the same reason Trump was elected. We want people taken down a few pegs. That is Leaf and Right.

People who voted for Trump wanted to ‘drain the swamp’. Too many people of power pulling power moves. So they voted a new cast of snivelers in their seats. They found the optimism that the country operated with unrealistic. And cut their won throats doing it. Bummer, since healthcare…..Etc.

Now the Resistance rises up and burns down everything Trump says or attempts to say. Like he is not a stooge, a patsy. They talk about how outrageous and sad it is (which…it is.) and miss the mark about what to do about it. I won’t pick a side. I clearly have already picked a side.

But then… Fyre Fest. It is a haters dream team. First it involves Ja Rule, who really does suck. And privileged rich white kids playing God with no concept of how that usually ends up (I am speaking of the organizers) and pictures from the scene of sad rich kids looking a bit nervous (I am now speaking of the attendants). A $100 Million dollar lawsuit. A lot of indie types weighing in on the ‘We knew it would be like this’ side. Horror and heartbreak (OK, not really) and recriminations from the Bahama Tourism Board.

How can you not dig into that? Whatever your lifespan, and whoever you choose to follow that span with, that’s good mental eatin’! Cause we allllll hate rich people, right? Yeah!

It’s a different disaster from our daily disasters and variety is the spice of life. Wisconsin loves Fyre Fest. As does Texas and Massachusetts. We all like big failures we are not responsible for.

It puts things in perspective.

It talks about what’s important.

Us.

Fuck. Wasn’t I supposed to do something? Fuck.

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Is Distraction Contagious?

See The Boss Pedal, Be The Boss Pedal: An Argument For Digital Effects In Normal Conversation

As a clear sign that I have been driven mad, I have permanently effected the affects of this particular medulla oblogata with my recording within Dante’s digital pit, I have come to the realization that digital effects are not just for music.

Furthermore, I need to make a miracle machine (which is tricky as the dog ate my engineering degree) that puts digital effects where they belong: conversations. This may require we all walk around with permanent earphones on to get the effect (big and fat), but what are words worth? They are worthless unless you can EQ them to a listenable form and then blast them through BIG reverbs.

Effects will be the new punctuation. They will say. When I create the machine. I will be hailed as yet another distraction (like iphones and Instagram and insulin) that is keeping us from becoming the species we should be, in our most perfect and docile form.

Dull. Dullllllll. Im So Bored with your plain, simply heard speeches. Do me a favor…ask me that in Flanger. Phase me, baby.

Consider how it can really emphasize the conversations you are already having?

Don’t you feel cheated when you are angry and yell at someone and it simply dissipates? Try that with a big hall reverb. Now THATS angry and impossible to ignore.

What about ordinary dull conversations with people in the grocery line? Slip in some Digital Delay…and slowly build it, so your words leave your mouth and are suddenly bouncing, bouncing everywhere, every direction, every corner and crevice of the subconcious till theres no option for anyone but to turn away and look at the Star or People Magazine.

Late night and early morning? Need to talk to people but your too wasted to form words? Compression. Everything you say will have more impact, even if that statement is ‘I’m sorry I dropped the ball on the Perkins account.’. Your manager can only admire your honesty, forthrightness and deep sonorous tones. And this is how you get a promotion.

Tryin to explain away a prior bad act? Speak clearly through a Heavy Metal distortion. Raise the gain. Speak slowly and stare directly into their eyes and watch as they get confused, a little sad and go away.

Need a lil pickup in the bedroom? Ladies love a good Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, brother. Get all Issac Hayes and shit and lay it down.

My point being that we short change ourselves in terms of appropriate dramatics. Sometimes it takes a bit o’ science.

The REAL point being this record is killing me.

(dictated but not read in Vibrato)

BOSS-Pedal-Wall

See The Boss Pedal, Be The Boss Pedal: An Argument For Digital Effects In Normal Conversation

Crap Rises To The Top: News Edition

Are you an idiot? Am I? How about that dude? Is he?

It starts as an entertainment and creases its way into the general culture. It corrupts the culture and bleeds into mechanics of the machine, money and politics. And someone brings a camera and exposes it….and markets this discovery to the culture who allowed it, and we eat it up with a spoon.

All the while, we think we’re being ironic. But I think we just may be idiots. Cause we created Donald Trump…or allowed him to be created. That’s on our dime.

Let’s start here: News. We have a bunch of 24/7 news services, each with their own agenda, their own voices that multiply to true rabble. And despite the fact that it’s a big ole’ World, and their can be enough news to fill these spaces, that’s not what we get. We get one hour of news reported 24 times. And to fill that time, analysis by the endless parade of authors who just released unreadable (read? Like the color?) books on point of these superfluous non stories.

I have a news ticker at my job. Weather, ads, news ticker. A few weeks ago, this was featured:
‘Gwyneth Paltrow missed the recent Award Show to spend time with her daughter Apple’.
wtf. This is barely a factoid, and of no interest to anyone but her publicist and child. And I think the child is to young to read it, the publicist to far from CT to see it. So,….if this for me? Should I call her and thank her? Maybe send fruit?

 

As a brainwashing technique, a previous job always played CNBC, which if financial news. And what I noticed was that they turned the Stock Market news, traditionally rather dry…and deadly, if its bad news…and turned in into ESPN. Colorful loud hosts, big graphics, lots of colors and feigned excitement. Which says a few things:

1) Financial news is sports for people to shallow and bright for sports.

2) Not a lot of woman are watching.

Despite the fact that what they report genuinely effects us, even if in a years time (a single year are is new decade, haven’t ya heard?), they spoon feed us like Saturday Morning sugar cereal commercials feed Saturday Morning kids.

And let us all remember Brian Williams, who has been tore down based on lying on his resume. How can lying on your resume be a sin when you gig is lying?

Let our true Statesman finish this for me. Ladies and Gentleman, Billy Bragg.

And remember, your not an idiot. That dude may be.
It says here that the Unions will never learn
It says here that the economy is on the upturn
And it says here we should be proud
That we are free
And our free press reflects our democracy

Those braying voices on the right of the House
Are echoed down the Street of Shame
Where politics mix with bingo and tits
In a strictly money and numbers game

Where they offer you a feature
On stockings and suspenders
Next to a call for stiffer penalties for sex offenders

It says here that this year’s prince is born
It says here do you ever wish
That you were better informed
And it says here that we can only stop the rot
With a large dose of Law and Order
And a touch of the short sharp shock

If this does not reflect your view you should understand
That those who own the papers also own this land
And they’d rather you believe
In Coronation Street capers
In the war of circulation, it sells newspapers
Could it be an infringement
Of the freedom of the press
To print pictures of women in states of undress

When you wake up to the fact
That your paper is Tory
Just remember, there are two sides to every story

Al-Roker
Crap Rises To The Top: News Edition