Mr Rather Wakes up

                 The following is a favor to an old friend, Marvin Kitman. Marv was a media critic (which sounds better then TV reviewer) who started out at CCNY writing sports and was lucky enough to get a job with Long Islands Newsday newspaper in the middle sixties, which is to say before the economic sh*t his the fan. I grew up reading his columns which were mostly much interesting then the shows being reviewed.

                            Like most of his generation he knows who McLuhan is but doesn’t really have that kind of Multitasking in his bones. I hate him because he got paid to write and I didn't but I love him because when I was a nobody he actually deigned to notice and encourage me .  In those days the Times had an explicit policy of not hiring white males.  They only hired crossgendered black people. This did this to show they were open minded. The fact that the working class white people were taking  on the chin in the worst period since the depression had nothing to do with anything. It was the best of all possible worlds. Boy, did I hate them. The fact that they were all white themselves and had the no white hire policy entirely to protect their jobs was never mentioned.  To add insult to injury, as time has borne me out - they all stunk as writers. 

           The Reagan era stunk so bad that Tina Brown a no brain englishwoman was editor of the New Yorker - try to find one decent piece of writing in twenty years. Did I mention I hated the Times?

         They've gotten a little better nowadays but I can see the old disease creeping in every now and then.

 Perhaps it's just jealousy - that's what they would say - smug bastards.

                 Jerry Seinfeld, another local fan who had a show as a comic used to chide Mr Kitman because Marv believed in something called “Quality” which Jerry referred to as “the rubber band that holds the Halloween Mask in place.”

                               As well I believe Marv was part of the last generation of people who we may say thought in linear patterns. Like Murrow he went by the premise that news, for instance, was to educate and inform. Today we know better. News is to control the will of the masses and subjugate them into working for the better good of the Technostate.

                      With time Marv grew increasingly less “pliable”. Along with Pulitzer Prize winner Jimmy Breslin they seemed to be less and less able to get with the program. Plus there’s a corollary to the Peter principle that comes into play. ( The Peter Principle states that each person is promoted to the level in the organization where they are incompetent – and they stay there – assuring that the organization is constantly staffed by people incapable of doing their job. You don’t hear much of this anymore.)

                       The well known corollary to the Peter Principle is that once a person has the experience and skill of years at a job they must be fired who will do an inferior job for less money. Thereby assuring that capable people are never employed. This is very popular at the present time.

                          In any event “as falls Wichita Falls, so falls Wichita,” which is to say that devastation that wracked Long Island in the 70-90’s which Newsday seemed to not want to hear about eventually, after destroying hundreds of thousands of lives got around to destroying the newspaper. I could care less. They had as much relevance as a hotdog stand in the wasteland. And one day with no fanfare, or anything, Kitman, and Breslin and Liz Smith, and Paul Vitello were gone. I was in the UK at the time and after developing a European outlook on things, especially economic and political, looked at the hometown paper as little better then kindergarden stuff.

                            This is no joke. Page three would feature the closing of a butcher shop that had been in business for thirty years. This while the local pols were among the most corrupt in the country.

When Walter Cronkite was fired they said he was too old. When thrity years later he was still making programming they still say he’s too old. What is wrong with this picture? Now Danny boy’s gone the way of all sincere fools. Leave us not forget that the awakening in his case, came only after he lost his salary, but nevertheless we’ll take our allies where we find them.

                           The key element though I address in the following. Marv used to call my essays “missives”. I think though that, for instance, in revolutionary times the problem was not the king – it was monarchy was a bad, or obsolete system of government. Likewise, although I love to hate some of these characters as well the problem is not the participants, but again, the system.

                             And it is compounded by what the wise chinaman called “the ethereal essence” – meaning you can’t put your finger on it. You can’t even point your finger at it. Once you’ve heard enough lies, seen enough injustice, you no longer expect things to get better. Maybe you get depressed – but that’s because the purpose of your life, excellence in pursuit of your endeavors, has proven to be a chimera.

I just don’t think that a system that denies people a chance to flourish is going to be around that long and then the focus shifts to the next world. Who knows that may provide the best insulation from the terminal despair that strikes those disillusioned by the current one. I’m talking literally, not metaphysically.

                               And there’s a final darkest message to be told. The obsession that many have with the failures of the current systems are actually masking the much more serious structural challenges up ahead.

We can’t save everyone, but instead of asking who must we eradicate we should ask, who can we save? More to the point who has the skills to save themselves?

                           

                       Most amusingly it is interesting to see Mr Rather rant about “the corporation.” Every other word seems to be that. What do you think? Do you think he’s on to something?

                       I can appreciate it it is nerve wracking. You show up at high noon and stand in the street and there’s no one there at the other end of the street. Then bullets come at you from out of nowhere and you die. That’s the modern way of death; not with a bang, not with a whimper, but with silent fingers that grip the throat in the dark of night. We fight ghosts, phantoms, illusions and the war is fought on a plane that can only be considered mystical.

                         And as they say to the special agents, “If you get caught we will deny all affiliation”

Here’s the bit…

A small note: DanRather, now that he is no longer being paid a million plus a year, to read teleprompters has decided to go on record as being opposed to corporate control of news programming. Whether he feels this is wrong because it will lead to a bad end, or simply because it offends his sense of order is not clear, however as long as people seem to agree with me I will compliment them on their intelligence.

As someone who’s been fighting this battle for a long time and who is way beyond the level of personal antipathies I will assign to this pup a task. The obvious question is ,”If corporations control media who controls corporations?” Are they like the Krupps, the IBM’s or the Zaibatsu that lead us into the second world war, or, (and this is more of a challenge,) are they something different?

When we speak of corporate entities are we speaking of artificial life forms – is it possible we have anthropomorphized them into living things with rights and privileges ordinarily only granted to human beings? Since these “entities” are immortal and can feel no pain what possible way is there to provide restrictions on their omnipotence?

Is the purpose of life to create ever more powerful and efficient machines?

Does the human race deserve to survive?

If so, give evidence. Lack of sufficient evidence will be treated as a negative answer.

Once a reply is made application for membership in the Tamlinmediaco it will be reviewed at our prerogative..

There are no time limits to apply, or to our response.

Tamlin

signal to NOiSE!

Signal to noise reductio

                               I have a few essays Ready to Go, so to speak, but for me it’s very easy to be seduced by the magic of the sight of words appearing on the computer screen. It’s sort of a Vulcan mind link thing. When as a teenager I used to draw and paint a lot the magic was simply the wonder of seeing a line appear where one had pulled a pencil across the page. When the wonder stopped so too did I stop drawing.

                   It happens you know. Charles Darwin found that in later life he simply lost all appreciation of poetry or music. They became words and noise. As a musician and as anyone in the trade will tell you the so called PMA period, which stands for Peak Music Awareness, lasts from roughly fourteen to twenty four, and the music we hear at that age becomes the music of our lives.   (I jest that ALF’s PMA period came about when he was a young boy and heard doo wop music on the jukebox in his Grandfathers Bar and Grill, but such is no matter.)

                         In any case it is always most attractive to be drawn to the essentials of thought. One of the things we learn from knowledge of the existence of the subconscious is that there’s the immediate reason we do things, there’s the context within which we do things and then there’s what could be thought of as an actual causality, meaning that causality without which the thing would not have happened.

To restate, if a trigger event does not happen on Monday, if it happens on Tuesday then the action we are referring to will occur, whereas if the true causality is not present then it won’t, no matter what day it is. I hasten to add that the division of “reasons” to three is arbitrary and could be any number.

To refresh your memory, we’ve been talking over the past few years about myths, both personal and in their social form and that means we want to have an idea about how ideas in the monadal form of memes flow through systems. For this topic I use the perhaps outmoded term  "information theory." As well, in order to keep to the scientific method, as much as possible, we’re not concerned with the truth or falsity of the idea in it’s core or penumbra.

                    In other words, whether the Nazi’s were right about a global banking conspiracy is *not* immediately germane. What matters is such a belief was fungible, in other words from the germ of possibility they were able to construct an edifice of seeming reality.

                        And of course, when one is writing about a topic for almost twenty years the focus must change. In the late nineties for instance the phrase, “Warlords” occurred often because there was a great deal a emphasis in the public mind on so called entrepreneurs, some of whom were visionaries and many of whom were to use Richard Nixons label, “Crooks”. Suffice to say the emphasis on magnetic personalities has diminished in recent years. The policy of many of the former Warlords is now, as the Brits say, “softly, softly”.

                                                     Pugsley and Wednesday Addams  dressed

                                                       in hideous Halloween Costumes

                      The reason for this is not difficult to ascertain. It has come home to even the most obtuse, that like the aliens pledging “To serve mankind” in the old Twilight Zone episode, the new aliens, meaning the pan global elite have come not as friends but as conquerors.

                          Something much the same can be said of another term once in wide usage, now mostly forgotten, “Cartel” as in the music business cartel. In a maneuver of incredible audacity, not to mention chutzpah, Hollywood has shifted the focus from the consolidation into trusts and monopolies that it focused on in the 80's and 90's and repositioned itself as the victim of unscrupulous online pirates. So in a time of widespread economic collapse they have no qualms about beating up on their own public.

They are like drunken kings who having destroyed their countries in wars for power then turn and beat the peasants until the peasants deliver more tax revenue.

                                      It’s fascinating though. Ultimately it comes down to the logic of names. In other words things exist once we label them and to make things disappear we simply for get their names , as if the world were a cosmic rolodex. (NB – A rolodex I am certain will soon be long forgotten. It was a bung of business cards and addresses that a businessman would sometimes keep on their desk to facilitate easy of access to phone numbers. Telephones, or phones for short, were plastic boxes connected by wires to central distribution sites that enabled people to speak and hear at distances.)

              Words come and go and the words create the context. We saw a good example of this in the 80's when public television had "The News Hour" - a purportedly objective program - yet by a consistent process of present  far right speakers and middle of the road co speakers  in effect they shifted the goal posts so that hitherto  far right ideas became accepted as mainstream.

            The causality was  not difficult to ascertain. It's the Alexander Syndrome - to wit a small tightly organized force will always have an advantage over a larger chaotic force if the scope of the battle field is kept artificially narrow.  (It didn't hurt that the program was supported by the Annenburg Foundation - which had spent a fortune in grooming Ronald Reagan for his role')

           I hesitate to read others intentions but a good deal of the alleged Boston liberal elite prefered and voted for Nixon over Kennedy.  Consciously they were repelled by Kennedy's "bad habits" but one wonders if not the legacy of anti catholic- anti Irish  protestantism had not played some part.

                     There’s also an old show business phrase the verb “To disappear.” In show biz, there is for each person one see’s on the video screen a support system of people that help them to prepare to appear larger then life. They do the food shopping, the job seeking, the publicity development, the driving, and whatever. When someone is no longer wanted in the entourage they are “disappeared.” It can be a cruel process as well, since often the support staff is led on with promises of later gains that were never sincere.

Another phrase no longer too popular is “data fog. This is almost humorous because there’s more inconsequential data then ever, but that is the beauty of fog, or, to coin a phrase, “foggism.” The more of it there is the less one is aware of it. Much like a narcotic the data fog numbs the senses and even as we imbibe larger amounts we continue to be unaware of it. Television usage is a classic example.

                       The brightest people watch the least television and conversely the people in the ghetto watch it constantly. And yes I am saying that people in the ghetto tend to be stupid – because if they are not born stupid – a life of malnutrition, violence and television will correct that sooner or later. The rest of us are either indifferent to this or actively encourage it since we have enough problems with competition as it is and don’t need more from the peasants.

                      In any event corporate entities are constantly repositioning themselves in ways they believe will best present their public image. One of the suggestions we’ve made and can lay claim to is that the portrayal of the corporation, which one would expect to be at all times beneficial, need not always be positive. The thesis, which remains unproven, but I find intriguing, is that like in politics, we often submit to the power of those we on the surface reject.

                          Ostensibly we reject arbitrary execution of ones political opponents as contrary to the best discourse on ideas, but subconsciously it might be that we respect the brutal dictator and have nothing but contempt for the altruistic “teacher”.

                  We need go no further then the media to see the evidence of this. Some commentators, usually retired with good pensions, complain about the shouting matches that replace measured discourses but no one watches intellectuals. Not to put too fine a point on it but what you are reading is because of my own intransience and were I to rely on the support of the public I’d have been long gone a long time ago. Without some measure of contempt for the current system I’d not persevere.

                         The irony is that I am able to continue, since I have been an outcast all my life, and this is due not to intellectual realization but to a harelip, which has nothing to do with intellectual dissatisfaction but rather taught me, very early on, to be indifferent to the opinions of others. I realize that this style of writing, intimate, confessional, is not currently familiar to most. It is something I picked along the way while reading things long out of the public mind.

                                     Nowadays we don’t turn to the written word for introductions of a personal nature. The video much more complete. There you get to see the person “warts and all.” Then again self portraiture is not really part of my job description. Part of my job is to be a coach driver. I have to drive this metaphorical bus past the singularity with as little loss of life as possible.

                             The singularity, a term that may be beginning, if anything to be overused, refers in it’s original meaning to that date when the intelligence of the robots exceeds that of the human race which created it. The word was popularized by Ray Kurzweil, who made his first fortune inventing musical synthesizers. He doesn’t live too far from me, here in upstate New York, and he presently takes a lot of vitamins everyday in the hope of living long enough to make the frailties’ of the body irrelevant. He also gives speeches on the singularity

                                         I’m not concerned with specific dates. Here it will be helpful to differentiate between systems and the machine. A word that appears often in this blog is "Technology" and specifically that usage of it relating to Teknos which is a Greek term. I don’t if it dates back to linear B.

If you study linear-B, which is one of the earlier forms of Greek, most of the words are like, sheep, rain, wine, in other words farming terms. Teknos mean the how of the making if something. The Teknos of the city might be a map of it’s streets. In the middle of the twentieth century Lewis Mumford wrote extensively on this viz planning the city of the future with an eye towards urban living spaces. He was read by many but few that could do anything about it.

                      I call this the Earth Day Paradigm. As early as the nineteen seventies hundreds of thousands of people marched to promote sustainable living and ecology. What was done? Nothing. Because of what Mark Twain called “The damned human race.” When he said that he didn’t it mean it as the awful human race, he meant it as the human race that was doomed to destroy itself. Freud also felt the same way. He felt that the aggressive among us would find it impossible to control themselves and even in his day, prior to the bomb. They’d think of some way of destroying civilization.

                           Now global thermonuclear annihilation is easy to imagine. Lesson of history number one is cultures rise and fall and they fall sometimes by invasion, sometimes by bad whether, but most often because they run out of whatever prompted their existence in the first place.

I am anything but anti technology. My father worked for the Bell System and I grew up surrounded by electronic gear of all sorts.

                              There’s a small town upstate New York called Kingston. It used to be the state capitol so there’s many older buildings and a mile or two away is the commercial malls. It reminded be, absurdly enough, of Paris, which is also and old town which on the outskirts has the modern sections. London’s not like this, nor is New York. Londons also an old town, but when the buildings go old they were replaced with newer version. New York is by comparison a new town, having been built in the last century.

Paris underwent a substantial rebuilding, in the nineteenth century but the point is there’s two philosophies at work here. The Penn Railroad Station in NYC was a magnificent structure. It was world class, but the Americans in the sixties did not realize that their culture was already beginning to decay. They tore it down and replaced it with a structure that could utilize the space above the station as a performance zone (Madison Square Garden).

                            Too late they realized that to replace the old Penn station would be more then the country could presently afford. What I am saying is that in a culture that replaces it’self there stands a possibility that the replacement will not match the original. It happens quite often because there’s money to be made in replacing things, in the same way there’s money to be made in warfare.

                          In the long run, of course, the cost to society of war is often more then the profits – but that’s not how the system works. It works and is encouraged because the ones who profitand the ones who pay are different. It’s not really suicide, but the effects are the same.

                             There’s a strong irony in the attempts of conservatives to reduce regulations. It is that as governmental regulations diminish, the complexity of the other side of the picture, private industry, is increasing exponentially. The problem is corporate entities do what is good for themselves - but they are not human – they are not strictly speaking, alive – they are Godlike in their power but they are, if anything false Gods. Like EarthDay I don’t want to have to waste my time proving these things.

I don’t want to convince you. I don’t care what you think. Think what you want. The name of the game is survival. You will, if the past is any indication, “putz around”, while Rome burns. Nothing good will happen. The Technocons will lie and convince most of you you are great and lead you down the road to hell and I don’t care.

                     The evidence is in. Humans have never been able to resist hierarchical tendencies and have so always submitted to slavery. I still don’t care. Here’s the kicker. There’s no way that the masses would be led to their destruction if they did not accept it as their due. This is why religion tells us we were born in sin. Normally it would not matter a great deal, but the firepower on the part of the false Gods is becoming overwhelming.

                        Our job is simple. It is to remember what it was like to be a human being. This is a battle fought entirely in the mind and the more vital it is the more deadly it becomes. In this conflict the notions of truth an lie are no longer applicable. Reality and unreality are mere constructs as are liberation and enslavement.

                        I’ll give you one clue as to this mystical struggle. In a Psychological analysis of someone it is not unheard of to find they believe in something extraordinary. They’re going along answering all the questions like everyone else and suddenly they mention they were abducted and probed by aliens. Or, to the scientific mind, you’ll have a PhD candidate that mentions his religious beliefs that are obviously absurd. The thing is the person is like 2 percent crazy, but strangely enough this two percent craziness does not seem to effect the rest of the persons psyche.

                        It’s almost like they shield it from objective questioning

Me and the Devil

oct 2012

                       I lived in Europe for much of the first decade of this century. I left during the crash of 2000 and returned during the crash of 2008, for what it’s worth.

                          Living in Europe meant mostly living in the UK, in Oxford although were I to do it again I think I’d probably stay in the south of France, the food is  better. Oxford’s an old city of course, a thousand years plus, and at present it benefits nicely from the presence of the children of the global elite who suffice to say don’t mind paying large sums of money for tuition and board. This helps the native students but doesn’t always translate to very impressive salaries for the staff. ( Just in case you were wondering.)

                     The Mormons, like many a denomination have missionaries but they sometimes go about it a little different from the rest of the flocks. Baptists and such go to the humblest hovels of south America or Africa, Mormons tend to be a bit more upscale, shall we say?

                                  In some parts of the world, especially the UK and Australia, the custom is for university students to take a year off in travel and this is called the gap year. Americans don’t do this because by and large Americans don’t believe in education. Their students rank something like eighteenth on a global scale and the pressure is constant to spend less on education because the stupider the population the easier it will be to continue to force them to submit to the master class.

                                 It makes good sense. Consider that there is a direct connection between level of education and willingness to  vote  liberal. In this case what conservative in their right mind would want to harm their own interests by  increasing the educational level of the public. As long as they can tie their shoelaces and find rush Limbaugh on the dial they are smart enough and need know nothing else.

                                The Mormons also have a time period where their young can escape the confines of Utah and see the world. In Romney’s case he spend his missionary days in Paris. France being the the most atheistic nation on earth I doubt he succeeded a great deal but he probably learned a few of the local customs which I will not reveal since ……

                    So, I’m walking down Cornmarket street and a chap accosts me. He’s wearing a suit and tie of the American style. British style is either very casual or very sophisticated and also they are fond of dark blue or dark purple shirts with suits, neither of which will Americans wear.

                  It turns out this fellow is a Mormon missionary, right there in Oxford, among the Arab sponsored business schools and the Japanese princelings with blue hair, and he’s going to sell me on becoming a Mormon. Not having spoken with anyone from the old country in a few years I strung him along, although the odds of me converting to Mormonism are about as great as me waking up tomorrow and discovering I was a Cockroach.

                          Suffice to say there are two kinds of travelers, those that get along with different type people, and those that wind up in bad places. I try to be the former. Plus I am by no means a rabid atheist. Religions been around for millions of years so it has to serve some purpose. Then again poisons been around for thousands of years so it must serve a purpose as well.

                            So we walk on. He greets a few other missionaries. What I have previously noticed about the Mormon Missionary squad is there were no women. Apparently they stayed home and baked cakes while the boys sewed a few wild oats. Plus there’s a slight problem with polygamy.   It should be pretty onvious. What to do with the extra men?  When the children grow up to be about eighteen there’s rumors the boys are loaded into pickup trucks and driven off never to be seen again.

                        In any event, coming from Long Island, I've seen some of the uglier aspects of the matrimonial stakes so I won’t talk about other people’s foibles.

                   And as so often is the case I refrained from speaking the words that came to mind, namely, “Where the bitches at, baby? Let’s get some juice and party down.”

                          Nevertheless, as with all good things our conversation was drawing to a close with me no closer to seeing the light then I had been. Half the sex in the world comes from a bottle and a saturday night and the other half comes from guys pretending to believe in things they could care less about. The women know this and I’ll let you in on a secret - they don’t mind, because they like getting laid no matter what kind of silliness precedes it.

                 Now the fellow decides he’s going to pull out the big guns, he’s gonna make me a deal with God that I can’t refuse.

                        “And you know when the day of resurrection comes, the dead shall all rise from their graves.”

                     “Go on,” I thought, “This is interesting, if in the case of those cremated a little difficult to comprehend.”

                  “And we will all walk upon the earth and there will be no more disease, no more physical deformities of any kind.”

                 “Jesus Christ,” I thought, “That’s all we need - to wake up one day and the world has turned into a giant sit –com.”

And then the devil, who is my close friend, appeared beside me and whispered in my ear, ”Listen to what he’s really saying”

                         I looked at the fellow and noticed he was staring at my upper lip. I have a harelip. It was a consequence of my Mother’s taking a bad medicine called DES before I was born. I don’t like it, but I live it and it has proven an entrée to the company of almighty Satan, ruler of the earth, and Prince of all living things.

                            The guy apparently did not see my moment of awareness because he repeated, in case I didn’t get the point the first time.

                      “Do you hear what I’m sayin? It means all our imperfections and.. deformities will be gone and we will be reborn as perfect beings.”

                                 Yeah, I heard what he was saying. He was telling the nigger if he joined the Republicans he’d be just as good as the white people. Maybe when I was four years old I would have bought that deal. Nowadays though I don’t wanna be as good as the white people. I wanna be better!

                   What so good about them, huh? I ask you. What’s so good about perfection?

                   Screw perfection.

     Ps  I got a better idea. Instead of me serving your master now and being rewarded on Judgement day how about you give me my reward now and I'll  pay you back on Judgement day when the dead rise from their graves?

Tamlin

              

            

A Blast From the Past

                   The following concerns an incident, or non incident that happened three years ago. I was down on my luck and appealed to a small town publisher to help me out. It reminds me that Twain made a fortune writing about Hannibal Missouri, but when he could finally live where he wanted he choose Hartford Connecticut.
                Draw what conclusions you may.   It may be worth noting that upon graduation from University I became employed writing white papers as a policy wonk,  and since then my employablity seems to have fallen steadily year by year even as I have more and more to say.  
               They ought to call what I've got Hazlett's disease.  He was a prolific British writer who had the misfortune to live during the industrial revolution  when, as now, truth was a commodity in scarce supply, and when it did appear was hammered over the head  until it was good and dead, there in the street..

Ergo

                   The following was written in the winter of 2009. I'm sending it along because the passing years, as they often do, have added a sheen, (technically the word is  a "glamour" although nowadays it is rarely used as a noun.)

                   This veneer accrues   from the fact that rarely have letter writer and recipient hated each other more then I and my putative recipient.Actually I can't speak for the other guy, but I'm will to testify I have more then enough hatred for two.

                We are like two men vying for the same woman, caring not as to the actual merits of the lovers but rather only that they be the one to win, to conquer and ultimately. to survive.

                It was nothing personal, just business, we had ended up on two sides of the great divide; I, an honest but poor victim of the treacherous banking system and he, a scum sucking lackey of the disgustingly wealthy

              What had happened is I had been caught in the logjam of the great credit crunch of 2008.   After thirty years of paying my bills, I had had a large amount of credit which, month by month was reduced to nothing - through no fault of my own!

                So, by this time I was staying in a hotel in West Hampton on a weekly basis and trying to think of someway out of the dillemma. There is a small, local Paper which caters mostly to the summer community and has been around for ages. It’s called “Dan's Paper”. It survives by a large amount of advertising for the upper class and provides a forum for "Dan" and some socially active ladies and gentlemen to express themselves. Apparently there’s a Dan junior waiting in the wings as well.  You know these WASP’s – they breed like rats.

            

              I swallowed my pride and would have been grateful for being paid enough to buy a decent meal. Realistically it would have meant exposure, but no dice.  Instead what I got was no reply.  This is also sometimes a form of compliment. It means that the recipient is going to steal the ideas and doesn't want to acknowledge he's even heard of them.  I am more familiar with the technique then I care to be.

           And so, that's what happened. Dan digressed from his ordinary  drivel and suddenly was writing about Fairy tale characters.  This was the sort of thing I expected from the New Yorker, that bastion of privileged, emotionally dead bastards, but from a two bit vacation handout with pretensions of glory?

         Oi Yeh, what was the world coming to?

        And suffieth to say I imagine the other party in this contretemps did not think twice. He, or she, went about their way thinking all was fine in the world.

         Unfortunately for my part age has *not* mellowed me. If anything, quite the contrary it has enforced the belief that if you do not  nail the bastards to the cross they will continue their wicked and heartless ways  until that time as  the almighty God calls them home to be judged before the heavenly throne.

      Besides which it was Sam Clemens, no stranger to differences of opinion himself, who suggested that at such times it was best not to sit and stew in one's own juices, but rather to get a little of one's self respect back. This I attempted to do.  I’ve seen what happens to the meek.  I’d rather go down with my boots on.

    Once you lose respect for a man it’s a lot easier to shoot him.

            The following then is in two sections. The first is a response to a letter that was never sent - the letter being that staple of the beginning writers life  - the rejection slip.  This, for the over educated among us, is what is known as Sarcasm.

             In other words I am being sarcastic. I don't actually mean to humble myself  before the idiot judgement of "Mr Dan" - quite the contrary. I am making fun both of his (or her) stupidity  and even more so I am expressing disgust that  for a person who's average reader has a million dollar plus home MR Dan can't spare a few dollars and a word of encouragement. This surely is the greater and unforgivable crime.

             Fortunately I can forgive. I don't linger on perceived slights but must get on with my life, after removing a few vital organs  which they plainly  do not need.

             Then, after sarcastically thanking the miserly editor I offer him  a gift in appreciation. I give him a generic article, a template. This can be used year after year, modified only by changing the names.   All one has to do is send out a cub, who will ask a few questions and you're right as rain.   No fuss - no muss.

        Since this is the Hamptons however, and not Beverly Hills, I also include a speech by an up and coming right winger.  He defends freedom and low taxes and the usual stuff. What is more he's a new breed, people friendly compassionate conservative. He's black. He's a Moslem. He's married to a Jew. He worked his way through law school. He's overcome several diseases by prayer and dedication. He came to the light late in life.

        He used to be a dope dealer, murderer, gang boss and thief, but now, after being taken under the wing of a kindly elderly wealthy man he's found his true calling. He's a Republican.

             Don't you wish you were him? I know I do.

===============================

Letter in Response to Rejection

===============================

   Dear  (Insert)

           Thank you very much for your letter stating the reasons why you felt my recent submission to your firm was inappropriate. I understand completely.   I would certainly never wish to do anything that would jeopardize your survival or the survival of the firms you depend upon for advertising.  That in todays hypercompetative and always innovative business environment it would be considered self evident that banks would retaliate against those they feel act  contrary to their interests should have occurred,  at the very least, to me of all people, who has felt their wrath in it's merciless full fury.

    Even now, as the tears well up in my eyes,  I cannot thank you enough for sparing me the shame and humiliation of seeing my dark words and thoughts, borne of despair and desperation which, should they have been made pubic, would have caused me the deepest regret for the rest of my life. For now, time, which heals all wounds, has opened my eyes to my near fall from grace, that you, in your wisdom, have prevented.

        

         I am also grateful for your kind words of encouragement.  "Can't use it,  but keep at it. Rome wasn't built in a day and nothing beats a try but a fail, so if you persevere something good is bound to happen."  (Added later : Note the sparking originality of thought and phrase)

     That said I am taking the liberty of sending along a short piece that I have used successfully on many occasions. The core of the article was part of the curriculum of the Greater Daytona Correspondence School for profitable book writers, although no more then fifty percent, so  I believe I can call it, basically original.

      Please accept it as a gift.  It can be used year after year (but not *too* often) and will bring you praise both as a public benefactor and as a wise publisher who understands that there is nothing a reader likes so much as to see their names in print.

Generic  Small Town Newspaper Article

         "How much is a Smile worth?"

          The ladies of  (insert locale here) have got to be among the most caring on earth. Proof positive of this was shown at the recent  charity fashion show for   (the mentally retarded, victims of earthquake/flood, etc.)    Ms. (insert name here) and her gang of recruits including (insert names here) went all out recently in working almost non stop for months on the recent fashion show at the luxurious home of  (insert name.)

               It was a smashing success and raised well over a thousand dollars for the victims of (insert cause here.) In addition many of the local shops chipped in with very generous donations of goods .  (Insert name here) said she got the idea when a certain local shop donated over a thousand pairs of  ladies high heels to the earthquake victims of Haiti.

           The catering was exquisite, as it had to be having been donated by (insert name here). There were frappes, canapé's and crepes of all assortments  provided by  (insert name here) who let it be known that his portable  "Crepe-mobile"  is available for all events, even small parties from May first to Labor day.

           There's nothing like a strawberry crepe, with lo-cal dairy whip, and a few Mimosa's to wash it down to provide a fun, delicious, and healthful afternoon meal.

         The tent was hardly needed, nor were the chairs  since it was a beautiful day and  nearly everyone was standing.

         Entertainment was by the Sal LaScala Combo, who thrilled our ears by  playing a mixture of standards, disco and even the occasional cha cha. Ole!

              The high point of the after noon was when little Bobby appeared. Dressed casually, but neatly in new blue jeans, sneakers and a tee shirt donated by (insert name here)    Bobby provided a great example of how lives can be turned around if we only care enough to help.  

        From his rough origins on the streets of San Paolo in Brazil life's opportunities looked dim at the outset. He was working for the local drug gangs before he was ten years old. Convicted of multiple  murders at twelve   he met a priest who changed his life.

       Now he's been accepted with a full scholarship to the prestigious Choate Academy and states his ambition is to be a US senator from the state of Rhode Island - on the  republican ticket.

    

       He gave a moving speech on the privatization of social security, the need for a flat tax system and what the constitution means to him, all of which were well received.  Later on his agent told me he also does, for selected audiences, a moving rendition of scenes from  "Oliver Twist" by the celebrated english author, Charles Dickens. He is available for appearances until October, when he will be leaving for a european tour.

          At five o'clock Ms (insert name here) took the stage again to thank everyone for coming and to remind all attendees that purchases of clothing at the event were tax deductible so she hoped everyone would be generous.  She also thanked all the ladies and local businesses that did so much to make the affair such a success

and reminded us all that a gift to the needy was as much a gift to ourselves as anyone else because it was a gift of love.

 

         But it was little Bobby who said it best  with a poem he had written for the occasion.

                    "Before you you see someone who is poor

                      Not a wealthy person or an entrepreneur

                      Still I have all the riches on Earth

                     For how much is a smile worth?"

  Your dedicated correspondent

 (insert name here)

         

Lang ago and far a waze

direct from the darkest liquid cyber space


loose lips slink ships
women and chimneys to the lifeboats
man over bored
tastee   freeze
call out the vampires
bring  out the bloodmobile
tell the commissioners
this is real
sweep up the city
collect body parts
you'll never see no one half as pretty
as the jack of hearts

              "Terrorist Survivor"  - The ALien Life form

              ore, cast me  now witcher

 

                 Like all of us I am not who I appear to be. Robert Hunter put it well in a lyric “This is all a dream we dreamed one after noon long ago” and when you read this the line will be true. Actually it may well be the truest thing you ever knew, but I can’t say .

                 Like some of us I spend nearly all my time wondering one thing – “Do I exist?”

ALF says, “Of course you do, you are as real as I am”

                    But that’s ALF. He can say anything because of who he is.

                       In the nineteen fifties in Hawthorne New Jersey the phone company did a test. They painted the walls of the factories bring colors. Productivity went up. Then as a control they painted the walls dull colors. Productivity went up. In time they discovered it was not the paint jobs that increased productivity – it was the fact of being measured. Hence the Hawthorne Effect.

                    That is why people who believe in god have a hypothetical advantage. It’s terrible to be lonely but it's worst to be dead.

tamlin

A “That's lang”

T “What's Lang?”

A “Lang, like “Lang ago and far away” and

“Lang, Lang, hung he neath the branches of the Oak tree.”

T “Oh, so today you're old one eye?"

A “We are nothing if not precise”

“T “It's grim up north”

A “You must know, if at all, how the wind goes”

T “And Went”

A “And Gie”

T “Aye, and Gie”

A “Any old iron?”

T “Any old saw”

A “Iron from stone”

T “And so to war”

Fur eye day-The Way the Game is Played

got some sun in my eye yesterday  - yes actually that creates something called dry eye-
bought something to clear it  up today - heh
hows that? Is zat meaningless enough?
jus kiddin

Am beginning to feel a little looser about things - I can't begin to tell you what those missing two years were like - actually I've been in much worse shape emotionally - even while I was comparatively wealthy- but nevertheless being homeless and fund less is trying experience as is losing all one's possessions - what can I say? I mean l lost friends early on, to drugs, drink and depression and when I think of all those who have never reached my advanced age of almost sixty it freaks me out. Of course in show business one never tells one's age - do one?
 
       - Yes there's much more elaborate written  material in the can and I will post, soon, the stuff that fits into the subject remit - eg the psychological effects and responses to advances in technology.   That is a hobby. Also there's a bit of fiction which you'll really have to pay for.

          As to the big group of material in the can - the three or so y ears worth , honestly, it's good stuff, but I've always been loathe to cover material that I wrote a while back.  I mean I'll do it for money, but otherwise I'd rather spend my time on the new stuff.

            For the record I'm living in a reasonably rural environment between New Paltz and Woodstock NY.
Eventually I'll make one more move - probably west- because the drug laws here in NYS are not to my liking.  Still am broke but it's far better to be broke once and for all then to be sitting in a big house watching thousands of dollars a day disappear and being unable to do anything about it - which was my situation in Locust Valley.


               It's all very amusing. When I was a boy people predicted I'd go insane. They are running out of time it seems. guess you can't judge a book by it's cover, huh?

                My lawyer tells me that one of the words he finds his other clients use that he find most offensive is “brand” as in the recently coined verb “to brand”. This means to become associated in the public mind with something. He mentioned it to me and remarked that I , at least, had never mentioned the idea. He indicates he’s amazed that someone can remain so incompetent and so capable at the same time.

                          It’s an interesting question, It reminds me of the time the drummer with the grammy’s on the wall asked me what I was into and I froze up. Part of the reason was at the time I was heavily into computers, part of the reason is my taste is so prosaic; Beach Boys and Beatles. You know these are hardly influences. Influences are supposed to be obscure.

                                     Later on realized there were two other reasons for my reluctance to answer the guys question, or three maybe. One obvious one , which I don’t believe, is that I was afraid of giving the “wrong” answer – you know capable players are supposed to like Stevie Wonder and that jazzier note perfect trip – where as I am much more of a classical, tone oriented sensibility.

                                The other answer – the one that makes the most sense is that unfortunately I can’t tell you what in into because I haven’t created it yet. That can be a nasty thing to say if you understand it in it’s true meaning. I’ve worked with enough musicians to know how much of a drag and how uncomfortable it is to work with someone who is the dedicated follower of some other chap. As Kieth Richards said one time the last thing he wanted to hear was yet another white bluesmans interpretation of the blues.

                                  The final answer, and the truest of all is very simple. I don’t care how many f*ckin grammy’s you got on the wall. You come to me and make demands that I tell you what my influences are? Who died and left you king? You wanna be polite you do standard interrogation procedure – eg you tell me or show me first what you like and then maybe I will respond in kind, for does not Master Kung say that reciprocity is the most essential element in human relations? I tell you nothing, c*nt.

                               I behave like this because this is the way the game is played. You have to respect everyone because every once in a while you’re going to run into someone like me and if you fool with me you will regret it for the rest of your life. I don’t need no brand. Why does the Stewart not sit at the head of the table? Because where the Stewart sits *is* the head of the table. There’s only one person who’s opinion counts and that’s the one on the other side of the stage.

post scriptum    actually I guess what we have is sort of a wizard of Oz scenario where all Dorothy has to do   it click her heels and say "there's no place like home."

             If you were a fly on the wall which  would you prefer to be a fly on the wall of a big accounting firm

or on the wall of an artist?    actually you know the old adage is that we do artifical things to create the 

illusion of natural ness    - and there's  a corrolary to that which is in order to create moments of extreme excitement we must under go periods of great boredom.

            You know Freud observed that there were people who spent all their time being happy because

they were terrified of discovering how miserable they really were.  You see that all across the psyche - where of  instance  frightened  people appear brave.   What's that expression about genius being the capacity to take infinite pains?   I'm not comfortable with that per se.   It calls to mind the expression that it is best to judge a man but what he does not do. 

            It is a particular flaw in the media business for practitioners to over estimate their abilities and consequently to refuse to shut the f*ck up.  but then there's those who never say a way and six months later publish your ideas under their names - these are called college professors.

Tamlin