Blog Posts

50 shades of Covid fan fiction?

Increased levels of lockdown resentment and paranoia could drive a whole new industry and genre.
Maybe the Joker was right - that which does not kill us makes us stranger.

What the World needs now...

As Belarusian journalists convicted, new human rights evidence re Chinese treatment of Uyghurs, what else?

Thread for keeping up with the world beyond Cancun.

...is love sweet love...

https://edition.cnn.com/2021/02/18/asia/china-xinjiang-teacher-abuse-all...

Science, Progress: Bill Gates kicks off

No one saw the Carny go

Julio Cortazar - why just 1 reality?

We've underestimated our psychological complexity, our capabilities.
A game and not a game, and more.
Once these were the discussions of art & politics.
Rayuela - Hopscotch. We don't move linearly - we jump around.

Homerin' Hank

As a kid i couldn't understand why Hank Aaron got all these death threats and such pursuing the Babe, while everyone I knew was thrilled. I suppose or hope they had to realize there were tons of scrawny white kids proudly looking at their Hank Aaron, Bob Gibson, Joe Morgan, Lou Brock baseball cards as they followed the season each year.

Streaming=Stealing from Musicians

Gary Newman describes his £37 payday for a million streams.

Obscene ripoff from an industry that never had a good reputation to start. Still, why would you go the trouble of performing in 2021?

And what other creative industry does this apply to?

https://news.sky.com/story/gary-numan-one-of-my-songs-got-over-a-million...

To Know Him Is to Love Him? Wall of Sound silenced

It's hard to think of a musician as flawed as Phil Spector - maybe Ike Turner.
Yet there's something to hear his wife defend his music, his studio work,
in an era where moral lapses and chasms are not just career enders, but
signal an end to viewing.
But nobody every really thought most musicians were nice boys and girls - 
they were the seedy side of life that were going to corrupt our souls with rock 'n roll.
With Phil, they were almost right - he corrupted his own, while he left the rest of us
a diamond mine.

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Personal Information

Superpowers
Defies gravity Can spit really far Almost touch my toes Can cut a fly's legs off with a beer cap from 20 paces Know how to say useless stuff and prattle on in a dozen languages Don't know when to shut up
Favorite Quotes
To be for or against the Plague, it's much the same thing. Fiddledee, how a body shure do get around - just 2 weeks ago I was in Mississippi and now I'm all the way to Tennessee... Eat or Be Eaten Better to be pissed off than pissed on.
Biography
Born in swaddling clothes (designer, of course) at the confluence of big waters, my first recorded words were "Dad, can I have the keys to the car?" Raised a Southern Pedestrian, my musical talents were recognized at an early age, leading to my being exiled to the shed out back with a stack of books that became my eddykayshun - advanced readin', writin' & ritmytick, creating a major quandary of "what will I do, oh what will I do?" (Gunslinger) As an old black man advised in song, "You Gotta Move", so move I did, traveling the byways sideways even a lot of driveways, picking up sticks and psychological tics, even movin' to Beverlee through a quaint misunderstanding of the seriousness of TV series, until finally I blew up so big the carry nation incarnation tarnation couldn't hold me no more, so I fixed my sights on yonder sitar, and like Queequeg and Paul Bowles and one of those abducted kids by the Pied Piper of Hamelin, I ventured forth to the larger world, pickin' and grinnin', doin' me some reckonin' and naughts from naughts, occasionally rightin', building me some buildings and wiring and just trying to understand the babble comin' out of people's mouths and heads, I finally ended up in what Rummy quaintly calls "New Europe", which ain't so new from what I sees, but that pit in my stomach from lack-of-moving-sickness finally disappeared, and instead I sit behind a whopping big desk stacked with missives from all the chiefs with big whampum around the world telling me "what's going on". Which seems like a load of boolshit to me, but I guess that's what keeps me busy and entertained now, separatin' the weeds from the chapstick. So my name is Perry Keys, or Peracles to you, and since my mammy always said, "say please and thank you", I added the please, but I'm holdin' back on that thankee until I feel you've earned it. But do welcome, and I hope we's a gonna have a real good time. It all starts with, "I wuz born a poor young white chile livin' in the South..." and we cycle through again, like Nietzsche and his infernal regurgence. So enjoy, and let's spin a spell...

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