I’m doing it again. Running a band.  My songs. Ace players. Beautiful singer of exotic provenance. Copyrightably-identifiable voice she has. Oh but this takes up so much of my time! The Blog cries out to be tended. Everyday I walk by this untended patch and its weeds and pests and I avert my eyes whistling one of the tunes from the band I’m producing with my engineeer. I went and got myself a young engineer.  Well, you have to.  My young engineer saves me time but not enough time to have enough time to tend the little farm of this Blog. Also the days are sunny and warm-ish now. Daughter is cooking our dinners! I go shopping with her. She’s so capable;  she’s impressively capable at everything she tries her hand at. I’m out there grocery shopping with Daughter when I should be tending this garden/ farm. And Wife and I do the long walks, too, on these increasingly sunny and warmish days. Wife and I are long-walking or we’re nuzzling. Wife is a good sport about the fact that I can’t keep my non-Blog-writing hands off of her.   Is Sex a sublimated Blog energy?



2 A SHORT STORY: Mao’s China and Flies

It hit him in the middle of a ludicrously-unrelated thing. That thing about Mao’s China and flies. That thing about Mao telling his obedient masses to each dutifully eliminate X-number of flies every day. In Mao’s China. He put the pink razor down, gently. The arm movements are slowed when we are recollecting. It’s like a power cut.  Careful with that pink razor, Eugene.  He couldn’t remember if a family member or a teacher had told him but what he did remember is that he had believed it, utterly, and whichever adult in his life then, who had passed the news on to him, had believed it, utterly, too. China’s fly problem solved in a generation. Did anyone ask for proof? Is that one of the negatives you can’t prove?  Unbecoming erection I renounce you. The pink razor nearly nicked the head when he lowered the arm in power-cut thought.  Then he thought, apropos nothing: Occam’s Razor.  His friend Wystand used to call it Occam’s Suggestion. He stared into the mirror.  His full white shaving cream beard made the whites of his eyes look beige. He liked the way he looked and if he hadn’t he wouldn’t have been there. If his divorced friends could see him now. I’m bristly let me shave first.  He wished he were home instead. His full white shaving cream beard was beginning to acquire a disreputable look in patches. Staring into the mirror to deliver a subvocalized soliloquy. Was he trying to charm himself? It was drying out and flaking off. How long had he been staring into a fetching stranger’s bathroom mirror and thinking of Mao?  Subtractive accretion, the story of my memories.  Let’s look through her drawers. He pictured a young Mao’s face distorted by orgasm. Then the old Mao face under the same stress.  What if we find a dirty vibrator? Erection-killer? He had cut himself rather copiously with the pink razor. He guessed it was meant for tougher leg-skin.  Erection-killer or kerosene on the erectile ember?  He held in a sneeze and it squeezed out a pinch-fart.  Not audible.  Just as his father’s sneezing pinch-farts weren’t. What was the thing between his father’s patio pinch-farts and nearby dying embers? Every goddamn Sunday. The Oedipal scent wars. Smoke fingers through my bedroom window while I beat off like clockwork.  Poor Dad.  I could go for those ribs now. Idiotic fucking rebellious teen vegetarian of the 1970s. Why are your gym socks so starchy, Champ? I wonder if she is?  Shades down in the middle of the afternoon. If I find out you’re. The Greek way his Greek  ex-wife had pulled her pink razor over her tougher Greek leg-skin without deliberation, clearing strips like sponge-mopping the kitchen. Had she ever sponge-mopped the kitchen? Had his mother?  No: he had. If I find out you’re sponge-mopping his French kitchen, he frowned. Fucking frogs. What had he gotten himself into? Just because you can, right? He lipped the sentence I am a Mao now.  Age-wise at least. Dots of blood on the patchy white beard like a tragic kind of  mutated candy cane. Maybe I should do tongue-exercises. Tongue sticks out. Santa at Chernobyl. Maybe  Mao can fake a coronary and go home.



“Your problem is obvious and I’d like to help you. So I’ve crafted a dating profile for you; try it out and let me know:  “Anal-explosive hammerhead cruising  sea of opinion in search of rusty conspirsy thuriss nails to bang as sex-substitute seeks anything bipedal willing to feign being impressed/ moved/ rescued. Intercourse off the table. Must be awed by Post-corporate NPC bourgeois wine cellar. ”




Are you a musical veteran of the Bohemian Life who is full of skill and talent but feels sort of stranded in the Creative Community’s junkyard because of this Society’s youth fetish? Do you have LOTS (or at least a useful amount) of free time? Well then. I’ve got these songs and some equipment. We need some chunky-hooky guitar, volcano bass and possibly sarcastic keys. Influences: Tom Waits, John Cale, Levi Stubbs, John Lennon, Muddy Waters, Franz Kafka, James Blood Ulmer, James Brown, Debussy, Grandma Moses.


Only absurd Art mirrors Life; Art which attempts to mirror Life “seriously” becomes absurd in the attempt: this also mirrors Life.



The first sign that the voting public has matured will be a loss of the default trust WE put in representatives of the Wealthy. Politics has always been a struggle of the Powerful Few against the Powerfully-Numerous Many. The “best interests” of the Rich and Powerful are antithetical to the Best Interests of the “average people”. They (the politicians and celebrity helpers) will use wonderful slogans and brightly-colored balloons to sway you in the direction that serves them (their wealthy bosses) best. This is universally true and has been since the beginning of Society. Become an informed, skeptical and pro-active people and conditions will improve IMMEDIATELY. And no, I’m not a “communist*“… Communism is a tool of Capitalism. There has never been a Communist Society that wasn’t run by Capitalists from the banking- tier of the structure. The Conservatives and the Communists and the so-called Green Party and the so-called Liberals all use seductive language to achieve the *same goals* desired by the Old School Right Wing Robber Barons behind ALL the various fronts.

They (THEY) think we are children who can be easily fooled with shiny, empty language. Let’s prove them wrong. This is not a battle between Urban Folk and Country Folk or Hipsters versus “Deplorables”. This is about The Masses asserting themselves as citizens of the planet, not cattle on a corporate farm.

*The alleged tenets of Communism are to be treated as any campaign promises are, knowing, as we do, that campaign promises  are lies designed to inspire the voter to vote against his or her self-interests by voting for the author of the lies. Because the only ones punished for the blatant con, and aftermath, of such mendacious promises,  are the voters (or Serfs) who fell for them, the system is never corrected. So it is with Communism, in the history of Communist countries, just as surely as it is with every supposedly democratically-held Presidential election in America. Those Americans who voted for “no more war” or “no more poverty” or to “reduce corporate power in civil life,” a century ago, might be just as surprised, as the denizens of Stalin’s Russia or Mao’s China or Hoenneker’s East Germany… that things have not improved, not even a little bit**, by the first two decades of the 21st century. The question is not “When will the Powerful stop lying to the Common People?” The question is “When will the Common People stop falling for the blatantly self-serving lies of the Powerful? And with such a new development become, for the first time in recorded (or admitted) History, Powerful themselves?”

**Well, for me, they actually improved in 1964, when I was five, when the government of my birth-nation conceded that I was legally human. What was I before that? A talking ape-substitute?



the boomers

the Boomers, whose Edwardian P’s

were the last generation to be

less cool than the offspring

emitted, seethe: now everything’s permitted

but Z-Fetuses gestate

screens. flee,

pre-intestate progenitors,




Moisture beaded on the cold pane of the window. The moisture on the window was condensed breath plus vapor from the pot of water that Burns kept on top of the oven. They were silent, the two of them, struggling on the mattress under the window. They were silent except for their rapid and shallow and start-and-stop breaths. There was no moan of pleasure or cryng  out of simulated passionate nonsense but Burns was humping Pandora so relentlessly that she had to bite her lower lip. She had to bite her lower lip to keep from laughing. It had just suddenly struck her as comical. To distract herself she looked at the window and noticed that under the patch of steam on the window was a word that someone had scrawled before with a fingertip.

The word was still nearly visible under the new layer of condensation. Pandora tried to make the word out but it was difficult. She was seeing it upside down and her head was bouncing. It was difficult to concentrate because she was trying to read it upside down as she lay there on her back with Burns pounding away between her legs, her head bouncing under his slamming push-ups. Her legs were up in the air around him, up like she was giving birth to a full-grown coal-black heavyweight boxer.

It was like he was trying to knock the wind out of her. She concentrated on figuring out the word on the window. She felt that it was a message. A word some other woman had scrawled on the window while she also lay helpless on her back while Burns filleted her; knocked the wind out of her; a message from the sweet sorority of the badly fucked. Pandora knew it would bother her if she didn’t decode the message. She thought When Burns gets off I’ll get a better look at it. The message appeared to consist of several scrawled letters and one of them was clearly an “o”.




I’m against the Democratization of Aesthetics. I think everyone should be given a chance to get really good at something and then show people. I’m not interested in the School of Thought that holds that everyone should be encouraged to dabble fruitlessly,  to default applause and the simulated interest of Humanity.



Screenshot (3691)


Message to Really Nice White Liberal Concern Troll Allies: Don’t try to tell me what I should be doing, categorically, and who my ancestors and relatives are, categorically, and how I should feel, categorically, about what you attempt to project on me.

As well-meaning as White Liberal Allies can be, they are still indulging in top-down relations with [non-Hispanic, non-Asian, English-speaking People of Color],  for historical reasons.

No other category of person, who came to the “New World” (scare quotes intended), beyond Black-skinned people taken from Africa,  could be defined by Whites (Abolitionists and Slavers alike). Jews who emigrated to America, for example,  could be described, pejoratively, by the Whites already there, they could be described as pejoratively as possible but they could not be defined by Whites because they already had detailed definitions they brought with them when they came. Whatever information, about themselves, Black-skinned enslaved peoples brought to America was first suppressed and then very largely erased, leaving them nearly-blank-slates by the second and third generation.  Nearly-blank canvasses on which to project, with brutal power, a language, a religion and a self-conception, the brutality of imposing English having everything to do with the fact that English thereby erased the languages these people c ame with: their own. Centuries later, the descendants of these enslaved people, and offshoot-cousins of these descendants, in North America, speak English. English (as languages have no Race, any more than numbers do) is the Mother Tongue of people born into families speaking it. Speaking English is not a case of being “colonized” unless one was born into another family-language which imposed-English then superseded. White Americans with French great-grandparents are not said to be “colonized” when they speak English, are they? But I digress…

Enslaved people of the North American chattel slavery system were the nearly-blank-slates of the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries*. But enlightened post-Slavery people of color, in the US, are now sitting on centuries of accumulated self-definition. Many of them will happily tell their White Liberal Ally friends what these definitions actually are. Sometimes these definitions, when related by the non-enlightened,  coincide,  with eerie precision (sarcasm intended here), with White Liberal Pre-Conceptions/ Stereotypes… largely because White Liberal Allies are closely related to the people who have dictated the terms of the conversation from the beginning.

Americans in general are thoroughly brainwashed,  by the Media they consume, as though it’s a life-long  supply of Mother’s milk, but people descended from the nearly-blank-slates of the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries are more vulnerable to brainwashing than most. Many post-Slavery people of color, in the US, have internalized the sloppy, patronizing, self-damning stereotypes of “self-definition” they and their parents and their grandparents have been bombarded with.

Many Blacks have internalized the poisonous notion that they are less intelligent than any of the Other “Races,” but they have been granted a consolation prize, or two, to swallow with that bitter pill: they believe they are stronger, can dance better, can run faster, have “natural rhythm” and are more “soulful” than Whites… who gladly concede these intrinsically racist left-handed “compliments” because they know (and everyone else knows) that being more intelligent is far (far) more important than being a “good dancer”. Whites will also gladly “admit” that “Asians and Jews” are “more intelligent” because it makes the notion appear less self-serving and “scientifically objective” (despite the fact that neither “Race” nor “IQ” have scientifically stable definitions). This supposedly disinterested “admission” that  “Asians and Jews are the top of the IQ pyramid,” and “Whites are a close second” and “Blacks are hands-down the bottom” serves to stabilize a Social Hierarchy that Whites (as a category), as de facto Rulers of the Planet, profit from.

Every White Ally who has pious feelings about the supposedly hardwired aptitudes of Black Culture,  and who righteously  polices the boundaries on this set of aptitudes,  does so on the premise that they are protecting authenticity and encouraging  “Black People” to “be themselves” and not fall prey to  “colonizing” “White Culture” attributes like grammatically correct English, Science, Math, Good Manners, Punctuality and Cleanliness. The sheer and shameless Racism of defining such artifacts or attributes as “White Culture” is jaw-dropping… yet standard. Again: because who owns/ maintains the super-saturating Media Culture that “teaches” everyone, around the globe, these curiously-White-Supremacy-aligned Truisms?

“Blackness” is a performance defined and enjoyed (or reviled)  by Whites.

The Show is a fucking scandal.






  1. My likes don’t take here and selectively elsewhere, which says something about where I am if not where we find ourselves, or not.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. WTH! laugh. For years I could *not* comment on Jeff’s thing. Then I found I could… now I over-comment! The Tech is mediating our relationships! (On FACEBOOT nobody sees my comments and I am not “notified” when someone posts/ comments… but that’s a feature, not a bug. I’m on a subtle FACEBOOT shit list since THE PLAGUE YEARS BEGAN)


      1. Spawned in the court of the crying of that crime family, how could one not?
        BTW, from the notification in my inbox, I can like all I want. Happy days.

        Liked by 1 person

          1. I’m not comfortable with not getting that one; in fairness, who refers to Catherine of Kent by surname alone? I realize using her familiar might come off as twee, but still. Anyway, I doubt they’d be related any more than the rest of us. I reckon the Yanky bluebloods’ whatever cousins however removed are also in-laws, keeping their cards close to their flak vests.

            Liked by 1 person

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