Teddy Bears

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/30/world/africa/30sudan.html?hp

Further proof that religion breeds nothing but stupidity and cultural retardation. I happen to think Islam with its unwavering fundamentalism (read ignorance) might be worse than the plague and I think its set to wipe out just as much of Europe. I'm not concerned with that statements insensitivity, more so its truth.

When the fuck is the Rationalist movement coming?

The White Stripes Greatest Hits

I did this while bored. Forgive the mistakes. Debate the song selection...wait do my readers have decent enough taste to listen to the stripes????

1. Icky Thump

The new big hit, a song with a misplaced solo and (as Adidasss described it) Baltic organs emerged on the radio in early 2007 with the same ethos as Get Behind Me Satan with an electrified arena-ready seasoning that reminded the masses that the stripes could still throw down and reinforced fans theories that GBMS was a Cobain-mindful celebrity dodge endearing them more to White’s Rock God persona.

“Well Americans, what? Nothing better to do? Why don’t cha kick yourself out you’re an immigrant too…”

2. Seven Nation Army

The map making house hold name that made the most vicious of protesters grit their teeth in admiration. Titled after a misnomer given to the “salvation army” by a young jack white, seven nation army uses one chord, a little slide, and a five note hook to scorch the airwaves of 2004 and leave every other single that year in the dust. With an ominous bass line intro (played on the guitar) that was as foreboding as it was danceable the stripes had their first sing along played by no less than five other acts that very year. The detractors hit this one hard with arguments of simplicity, reminding everyone else that elaborate is for philosophy and art films. Long live rock and roll.

“I’m going to Wichita, far from this opera for evermore. I’m gunna work the straw and make the sweat drip out of every pore”

3. Denial Twist

The funkiest white boy jam since Beck released “where its at.” Simple piano chords and some meg white shuffle carried an entire CD designed to shake the hounds off their trail; the stripes roll out a pop song with lyrics still bleeding from the break up. Dig the break down in this one, Jack White testifies like the Godfather himself.

“so now your mans, denying the truth and its getting in the wisdom in the back of your tooth, ya need to spit it out in a telephone booth while ya call everyone that ya know”

4. Fell in Love with a Girl

Coming in the Strokes sweep up of anything sounding remotely retro, fell in love with a girl was shorter than your average song on the radio that year by a good two minutes. Coming in around just under two minutes, the stripes packed enough fuzz, fury, and incoherent lyrics to make even the old folks sing along.

“Red hair with a curl, mellow roll for the flavor and the eyes for peeping, can’t keep away from the girl, the two sides of my brain need to have a meeting”

5. Dead Leaves in the Dirty Ground

If Fell in love with a girl helped them draft off of the Strokes surge of popularity, Dead Leaves established the Stripes as their own band, dragging the high speed rush of everyone looking for New York bite down to the delta blues. The song had enough force to dreg up countless bands from Detroit that would otherwise have no shot. A persevering sound, and establishment of style and a minor preparation for the elephant that was about to come.

“soft hair and a velvet tongue, I wanna give ya what you give to me and every breath that is in your lounges is a tiny little gift to me”

6. Broken Bricks

Out of key singing, chords so stiff you can hear the bounce, and is Meg White just jingling keys at certain points? Possibly, but who cares, the stripes show up with more swing than you can shake a stick at, and when meg was potentially playing with actual sticks. Jack channels his inner Springsteen and tells a tale of blue-collar revelry and the man crushing the souls of another family.

“broke into the window panes just a rusty colored rain that drives a man insane you try to jump over water but you land in oil climb the ladder up a broken crane. Don't go to the broken bricks girl it's not a place that you want to be think of the spot your father spent his life demolition calls it Building C”

7. Rag and Bone

“This place is like a mansion, its like a mansion, look at all this stuff!” And so is this song. The stripes go grifting and come up with enough jump to remind you that bands never used to have to harvest 80’s shit synth to come up with a song people could get down to. Its hard to determine here if the stripes sound more like hobos, carnies, or used car salesmen but the slime that’s all over them in this one is very much their own, which despite all the comparisons is more than you can say for Zeppelin. Who knows, maybe its some amalgamate of all four.

“Well can't you hear we're selling rag and bone? Bring out your junk and we'll give it a home a broken trumpet or a telephone”

8. Instinct Blues

An unfinished song from an unfinished disc. Too simple and too obvious for any real fan to appreciate, and any non-fan to get. The Beauty of this one lives in its tortured bends and non-sequetir breakdowns. You can feel the grime build on you after this ones over.

“And all the chickens get it and them singing canaries get it. Whoo! Even strawberries get it I want you to get with it”

9. Death Letter

If the Stripes style wasn’t enough of a clue, Jack White fucking loves Son House, so much so that he covers this throwback gem with notes so distant you’d think it was coming from House himself. Jack always did have the fine fingered knowledge to have those amps throw as much pain as the electric would allow and here he doesn’t let up an inch. The guitar work here might be too beautiful to describe.

“I gat a letter this mornin’ what do you rekon it read, it said the girl you love is dead”

10. Hotel Yorba

A simple country swing that will make you tap your foot while dreaming of rolling down the open roads of the Midwest. Yorba, given its prominence for allegedly once housing the Fab Four when they visited the blossoming metropolis of Detroit [sic], lets the words do all the fancy talking with Jack telling us the problems of modern life when you’re just trying to love your woman. And really, whats more country than that?

“I been thinking of a little place down by the lake they got a dirty little road leading up to the house I wonder how long it will take till we're alone sitting on the front porch of that home stomping our feet on the wooden boards never gonna worry about locking the door”

11. Jolene

Dolly Parton might have had it first, but she lacked the vicious lashes of distortion that express the torture of rolling in your bed wide awake at four in the morning with all the demons thrashing in your head, and your man whispering someone else’s name.

”he talks about you in his sleep and there is nothing I can do to keep from crying when he calls your name, Jolene”

12. Hello Operator

If the opening riff of this one doesn’t speak to you, you might lack a soul. With infections fills that mandate air guitar, and senseless stick clicking on megs behalf, its hard not to bob to this one.

“Find a canary a bird to bring my message home carry my obituary my coffin doesn’t have a phone”

13. Union Forever

Written while Jack tried learning a song in Citizen Cane, this brought the stripes into their first legal battle. But what might have been taken from the film is irrelevant, the haunting over drone that creeps in from behind will give you that “someones behind you” feeling on the neck every time.

“With wealth and fame, he's still the same I'll bet you five you're not alive If you don't know his name.”

14. Truth Doesn’t Make a Noise

Arguably the most overlooked Stripes song. It may not be the most elaborate, or the most sonically pleasing but its hard not to find the beauty in arpeggiated piano notes and lyrics like:

“you try to tell her what to do and all she does is stare at you, her stare is louder than your voice, cause truth doesn’t make a noise”

15. Catch Hell Blues

Like Instinct Blues, this one is all music and few words. While certainly more thought out, the power still comes from the non-lyrics, tons of slide, great runs, and parts that are so high on the register your dogs will be screaming.

“If you go looking for hot water, don’t be shocked when ya get burned a little bit”

16. Stop Breaking Down

For all the Stripes pretend to remain children, they have some filthy god damn lyrics. Taking this one from the king of the delta blues himself, Jack gives it the old White Stripes bounce that makes you dance in your car seat even as the song is miles away from anything dance oriented. Make the kids leave this room on this one, if you can make out the lyrics.

“The stuff I got is gonna bust your brains out Well, it'll make you lose your mind You saturday night women, you love to Ape and clown You won't do nothin' but tear a good man's reputation down - stop breakin' down!”

17. Girl You Have No Faith in Medicine

Buried deep on Elephant and overshadowed by song with bigger star power or more poignant topics, the stripes take aim at the entitled and the hypochondriacs with the nastiest riff this side of the 70’s.

“Well strip the bark right off a tree And just hand it this way Don’t even need a drink of water To make the headache go away Give me sugar pill And watch me just rattle Down the street”

18. Same Boy You’ve Always Known

Another track that I feel should have been more well received. Somewhere south of all the radio hits, Same Boy has more pain in jacks voice than is seen in most of the stripes catalogue, which takes some average level lyrics and gives them an amazing breath of fresh air.

“I hope you know a strong man who can lend you a hand lowering my casket I thought this is just today and soon you'd been returning the coldest blue ocean water cannot stop my heart and mind from burning”

19. Hand Springs

From the hot pinball rock CD, Jack tells the all to common tale of love lost at the bowling alley. In the aftermath of his loss to a smooth talking interloper with enough pinball’s skills to woo her away, Jack ponders old age and a potential loss of bowling skills. Alas, Lament my friend, lament.

“he's lookin' at her the way I did when I first met her I could see in his face white flowers and cups of coffee and love letters”

20. Ball and a Biscuit

You can’t play riffs like these with your grandma around. Coming it at over seven minutes, this one clocks in as the stripes longest song to date and what might be their filthiest. After covering enough delta blues men, Jack takes it on up to Chicago and takes a bath so he can “get clean” with his woman. If it wasn’t for euphemisms, the stripes would give Prince and 2 Live Crew a run for their money.

“You read it in the newspaper Ask your girlfriends and see if they know that my strength is ten fold girl and I'll let you see if you want to before you go”

For those about to rock...fire.

Hello, my name is brow and my life is Blog fodder.

I had scheduled to get my oil changed with my father today at9. Last night I remembered I had a meeting with my landlord at ten so I called home at told my mother that I would not be able to make it and to pass this information along.

At 9:30 this morning my father called to let me know that I was destroying my car.

At quarter of ten, my landlord comes in and informs the two roommates that are staying, “from now on you’ll need to pay your rent in cash. $1600 up front, no checks.” Becca (the other roommate staying) proceeds to get in a battle with him ending with “well Becca if you don’t like it maybe you should find somewhere else to live.”

I just nod and smile and jet off to find some decent legal advice on how best to check out of the loony bin. So I get to work at noon and regal them with my alarming misfortune and get some solid advice before Tracy (the roommate leaving) calls me at 1. Apparently she tried to explain the illogical nature of cash being some way of liability security. He apparently ended that call with “this is not up for debate, I’m hanging up now.” Which he did.

Needless to say, the roommate we were trying to get in probably will not be coming and we’re looking for every nook and cranny in this lease agreement to break out. But whatever, life is life right?

So at work one of the residents got locked out. The one they think is the most vicious thief in the building.

So I call all the uppers that give me the protocol and they say “tell that ass he has to sleep on the couch.” Easy to do when you’re 30+ mins away, not so easy when the guys like, well I’m either going on the roof or I’m calling the NFD to kick in the door and you guys will have to foot the bill.

15 phone calls later I’m on the roof with two officers and this fat fuck is crawling in through his window to close out the day.

The nights still young. I’m going to try and forget my name tonight. Adios friends.

Bean Counter

Each Wednesday I plan on putting in Bostons on Index to the quality of life; The Bean Counter. It comes to us fresh every week from the geniuses at The Weekly Dig the only paper worth its salt in this wasteland. Unfortunately this week is highly bosto-centric. Their aren't usually, expect great things in the near future.

A state trooper moonlighting as a DJ sues the BPD for slander, alleging "financial hardship ... and embarrassment" after a police report citation seems to kinda sorta suggest clubs maybe not hire the DJ to stay in accordance with the rules of the Licensing Board. Super Troopers-esque drama makes this a PLUS 1

The DCR changes their story from last week and will begin repairs on failing 56-year-old tunnel on Storrow Drive in 2008. The esteemed department estimates that night repairs will last 9 months, but we're gonna bet twice that and give this an EVEN

Curt Schilling's new contract has a clause where he'll make a couple mil by just staying in shape, adding a new wrinkle to all contract negotiations nationwide. MINUS 2

After Curt's contract is made public, Rosie O'Donnell's contract talks with MSNBC quickly break down. Not a coincidence. PLUS 3

Credit crisis grips nation as the financial industry loses billions, and the economy is showing signs that a recession might be imminent. We're amazed that the only accountability seems to be in the form of CEO firings and resignations-with multimillion dollar severance packages. Gone are the days of yore where moronic too-good-to-be-true economic practices collapsing like Big Dig and Storrow Drive tunnels evinced massive waves of defenestration among the perpetrators. MINUS 4

The widely banned traditional recipe for absinthe with the insidious herb wormwood-yes, the anise-ridden concoction to be blamed for the madness, delirium and mild Impressionism of the Belle Époque-is now legal in the US. Chase that green fairy! MINUS 1 EAR

Those resourceful students at UMass-Amherst will hold a two-day strike this week to protest grievances supposedly ignored by the university's administration. We have it on firmly unsubstantiated gossip from a cousin that they're holding a smoke-in down at the student union. PLUS 1

The Rev. David Ajemian of the Boston Archdiocese, whose "mental health may be of concern," was charged with aggravated stalking and harassment of talk show host Conan O'Brien. We won't deny his boyish charm, but isn't he a little old for you, Reverend? MINUS 1

The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round ... and a Dot delinquent who was allegedly throwing pencils out of a school bus window, strikes a police officer in the face and gets arrested for assault on a police officer in addition to resisting arrest. Another teenager is arrested for disorderly conduct and resisting arrest. The fact that they're 12 and 13-years-old respectively makes this a MINUS 2.

What there is to debate in the bill that limits residency options near schools and other children safe havens for sex offenders statewide we're not sure ... but that creepy old dude down the street, he's why they call it "grandfathered in." MINUS 3

THIS WEEK'S TOTAL: MINUS 9

LAST WEEK'S TOTAL: MINUS 9

Friendship is the long slow wait before cruelty.

There’s a bar down in the fenway called “An Tua Nua.” Its Gaelic for “a new beginning” and as fate would have it, its where I fell into an old trap. I don’t know what inspires me to put such amazing faith in the long shot romance of large distances and imagined personalities. But that’s what I do, and that’s what I have done for the last couple of days, snapping out of it while the credits of Heros played.

I was out of it too. I thought I was anyway. I was fast on the rebound this time, I was slow to get excited about the prospect of some new heartbreak and I was comfortable with where I stood. And then I got drunk on a freezing cold kickball field and was sucked back into foolish fantasies that life was going to be all peaches and roses and no work.

I’m crazy. I know it. No one else jumps headlong into this great unknown. I live in the fallout from the divorce generation. We’re to fear long term commitment because 40’s the new 15 and we’re going to miss out on the good times like getting drunk in your friends dad’s garage. Imagine a world without that. Its horrifying. I’m sick at the thought of “what if” whenever I see a short-skirted nubile piece of ass stroll by me with more swing than Jack Nicholas. Even if I’m single with no shot, imagine having to deprive yourself.

I should get whatever I want, whenever I want. The epoch of life is over saturation. I’m not a child dressed as a clown any longer, I’m an adult and I’ll eat all my Halloween candy in twenty-minutes if I want. The spoils of love and war are mine and I am not satiated by moderation.

I am most free and creative when there are no boundaries. When I can do whatever I want, I come up with the best ideas in the world, like dressing like my friends and trolling the clubs for woman half my age. Every night. For the next 50 years. And I can’t wait to high five my buddies on the car ride out there, about yesterday’s fresh kill. I don’t care about the clap or twins because I never knew her name, and she gave me a fake phone number anyway. All the responsibilities are erased when we fly back to America next Sunday morning.

What the fuck is wrong with you Molina? She’ll be used up by tomorrow, are you that blind? Besides, she can’t cook and she has a fat ass. Are you gay or something? Why lay next to someone until you’re dead. Freeze to death in a studio apartment that your social security can pay for and keep your fucking dignity. Its like you were born yesterday.

Cold

I think your cheeks are the best indication of how cold it is out. Their thin but your tongue has too many heat receptors in it to get cold, so it can tell how cold your cheeks are. And the rest of you is assumed to be dressed well enough that it will retard the cold. You’d have to be there several hours without moving to truly feel how cold it is in, say your stomach. Thankfully we have cheeks. And I think maybe because of this, we can actually taste cold. Maybe not cold directly, but what we assume cold to be. The saliva that keeps the temperature and the malleable flesh of the wall – that’s cold.

And I’d bet you can feel it to, but only on the tip of your nose, out on the peak where the bone won’t grow and the wind scorches as it scrambles into your sinuses. Its always numb on a cold day and you have the anesthetic sensation of a dumbed down sense of feeling when you scrunch your nose, keeping in the drip of whatever the hell it is that drips from your nose; half water, half…not.

Everyone bitches about the cold, and I’m not really sure why. To me it makes everything a journey. You have to battle against the cold. You get suited up and you prepare yourself mentally and people tend to give you a little more compassion if you’re out in the elements walking around. The cold makes a walk to the corner store epic or at least important. I remember I got called into work in a blizzard once and walking down there through the plow-made drifts on Hancock Street, it was just something fun to me. People were driving amazingly slowly, and kids were dodging snow balls and the snow made everything more aesthetically pleasing. Its cold out folks, it happens. Start your car early, wear layers, and complain to yourself how you can’t wait for the flesh-exposing, sweatfest that is summer, I for one don’t want to hear about it.

"If you're going to San Francisco
Lay some flowers on the grave stone
There's music on the station but I'm just listening to cold wind whistling
And if they ever find me tell the papers cold wind, cold wind
cold, cold wind blowing" - Arcade Fire

Reminder

Sometimes it takes a reminder to remember. As obvious as that was, im still writing it, and i'm still posting this; this is all that remains of The Station in Rhode Island

bored and rambling

The days blur, and the cities safe and I havn’t seen a sunset since September. The manhole covers smoke and the street lights are dim. The overpass is cool from the trucks that pass.

Growing up the breeze near the fence on the edge of the woods felt remote, a secret location that saved us from the wide open boredom of nowhere. Theres a love and safety in depressing sameness. I can drink tea up town every night, and I can rehash the same conversations with the same people constantly, and I don’t worry about whether I’m waisting my life. I don’t care. The effort of the great horizon is painful. The brave new world is wet and cold, and its breezes are neither familiar or comforting. My hearts still coiled deep in its sleeping bag and its refusing to get up fro breakfast.

Nothing is fun anywhere, and I know the price of soup in boston so fuck it. To me the grass is depressed, it blows in the win near patches of dirt and it will forever, seeing the same dumb kids with brand new fashions come year in and out. The future is overcast, not bad, or negative but set, and toned down. I sail. The crabgrass can’t get me at sea and the inside of the boat is the best place to watch the rain engage the small cap sea shanties.

New England is to be roamed with a sailors cap, I walk the hills of Vermont with a hobo sack and duck into old pubs an eat clam chowder. And oldman plays the accordion in the corner, and the novels all curls up by the fireplace. I grab the wet sleeves of my t-shirt like gargoyles and just listen to them blather on.

Mixed CD

I need to know how many people would listen and review mix CD's I made available for download on the internet.

it would be one easy DL you could get from a link and just respond. I'm not sure if this would work best via e-mail or the blog. Let me know if anyone cares.

My uncle Charlie

The cigarette box was dented; it sat crouched on the table like a sack of flour leaning against the barn doors, bulging out at various points to let loose its burden, and jangling inside the box was the lone perfect stick of crushed up leaves and a filter…

Last week ended a pretty shitty run for the gene pool. The final week of October into the first weeks of November has been, save for one birth and two weddings, the week when every family member on my mother’s side had died. Last week, my uncle was elected mayor of Taunton.

It may not seem huge. He wasn’t elected governor or senator, but what’s most important is it mattered a great deal to himself and to me, that’s all the mattered really.

The best part was, it meant that when given the option, people will still vote for the man who deserves it. His opponent accused him of being uneducated saying that he had not graduated from high school. I got a report that they tried to condemn him as a homosexual for not being married or having children. They tried to make it a one-issue election on a problem his opponent had created while he was superintendent, one that as mayor, you have no authority to remedy.

His opponent didn’t win one precinct. He lost by over a 2 to 1 margin, and he put the steak in the heart of a political machine that has run the city for the past 40 years. Most saw the city in two lights:

1. You are politically connected, so everything went your way.
2. You aren’t, so go look in some other place for a fair shake.

Even he himself had not been given a fair shake. When he ran for his first election he lost by a resounding amount to incumbents that were put in place by a machine. I myself would have probably given up. Public defeat is a hard horse to climb back from. Instead he decided to go down to city hall every Tuesday for every council meeting for the next two years and sit behind the biggest loud mouth there was. He knew that guy would get camera time, and by proxy, so would he. He also decided to run a one man campaign and walk through the villages of the city introducing himself and stating his positions.

He ran again the following election and when he was waiting in city hall that night, the analysts didn’t even put him in the running. Out of nine slots, he was probably selected as 11^th. When the first precinct came in, he had finished first. I wasn’t there because I don’t think I was born yet, but Jesus Christ would I have wanted to see face on the establishment that night. There’s something so righteous about silencing the unwavering cock-suredness of self-proclaimed experts. By nights end, he’d come in third.

For the past twenty years, he’d served on the council, working more than anyone else really should have expected. He was a general outlet, taking calls and complaints on potholes and corrupt union workers that had been appointed by the machine, and stayed comfortable under the blanket of union protection.

Everyone says they are going to “work for you.” They Don’t.

Once, when he got a call from a citizen who complained that he couldn’t pay respects to his dead father because the grass in the cemetery had grown too high to read the stones, he took his own lawnmower to the graveyard and mowed it himself. The whole thing. And the next day the DPW complained because “if that job were to exist, it would be a union job, and he took work away from potential union employees.” That job didn’t exist. No one was paid as “cemetery lawn care manager.” He did something for someone who needed help. He didn’t legislate the job, or “see what he could do.” He just did it. And its those things where those of us who still believe in government and the political process; democracy and the civil service turn to. It’s inspiring for me at least to know someone out there still runs for the right reasons, and that maybe politicians aren’t all bad.

At this point he has never hired anyone because he knew them, or owed them a favor, or because they were related, the only time family came into anything is when he appointed the son of a man who’d died in office, and had only but three months left.

8 months ago, the former mayor was appointed to a position in the governor’s administration. To fill his tenure as mayor they put my uncle in his place. The machine, fearing its grip loosening, they ran the only man who was arrogant enough to believe that he could beat a sitting mayor who had written 4 books on the cities history, an elected official for the past 20 years, and who had a television show on local cable about the city and its rich past.

I’m sure I’ve bored the pants off of a lot of you, but for me little left in life is inspiring. I’ve grown unimpressed with all of my passions and feel like even the city that I had tattooed on my arm is vanishing. But I found this story so unrealistic and devoid of verite, so Disney-esque that someone who really cared would get elected over a money-fueled political dinosaur that it almost moves you to tears. I’ve never been more proud of someone in my life and frankly, never more inspired. In turn, I’ve found no one more worthy of my inspiration, and certainly, as a political junkie myself, no more worthy or noble a cause.

“Sing Muse with passion of the pistol

Sing Muse of the warning by the whistle

On a night so dark in the waning

A dawn obscured by slight sky raining, oh oh” – The Decemberists.

this ones for me.

Yesterday I saw the sun shinin',
And the leaves were fallin' down softly,
My cold hands needed a warm, warm touch,
And I was thinkin' about you.