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Tuesday, 31 July 2007 |
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Let's get a couple things out of the way. The members of U2 are quite
talented. Talented marketers, businessmen, team members. The also
posess a fair amount of musical talent. They know how to hire the best,
produce shimmering collections of songs, and market them as the last true band, the last band that matters.
The fact is that their sound is largely the creation of Brian Eno and
Daniel Lanois. Their greatest songs are mostly Eno songs, Daniel Lanois
songs. No matter. Poetic pop constructs ... perfectly mixed mastered
and printed ... puffery pings the Zeitgeist ... but that's not enough for Bono.
Poor
Bono wants a Nobel, or a Pulitzer. He won't say it out loud. But this
hustler recognizes that world-class hustler's game, and if I didn't
find him such an ass, I would tip my hat.
He and Oprah have come up with Project(RED),
whereby consumers consume and a portion of the profits (not the gross)
are donated to African AIDS charities. Approximately $100 Million has
been spent by huge corporations for advertising, plastering Bono's face
all over the world, at their expense. As the British say,"Brilliant!"
So
far they've raised perhaps $25 million for charity from sales generated
by that $100 Million marketing campaign. Makes perfect sense, doesn't
it?
Okay, after the jump. The story that demonstrates to me that U2 are the most self-important ... uh ... dickwads on earth, and, as such, sit at the
same table with Sting and his god-awful horse-faced wife.
But
before you go, please note this picture of Bono with Dr. Gupta,
the man the Bush administration has sent out to trash Michael Moore and
his movie Sicko. Bono cavorts with Bush. What else do you need to know?
{okay, now click on read more}
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Friday, 02 February 2007 |
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What is rooted is easy to nourish.
What is recent is easy to correct.
What is brittle is easy to break.
What is small is easy to scatter.
Prevent trouble before it arises.
Put things in order before they exist.
The giant pine tree grows
from a tiny sprout.
The journey of a thousand miles
starts from beneath your feet.
Rushing into action, you fail.
Trying to grasp things, you lose them.
Forcing a project to completion,
you ruin what was almost ripe.
Therefore the master takes action
by letting things take their course.
He remains as calm
at the end as at the beginning.
He has nothing,
thus has nothing to lose.
What he desires is non-desire;
what he learns is to unlearn.
He simply reminds people
of who they always have been.
He cares about nothing but the Tao.
Thus he can care for all things.
-64
From The Tao Te Ching—The Canon of the Path and the Power:
- In Tao the only motion is returning;
- The only useful quality, weakness.
- For though all creatures under heaven are the products of Being,
- Being itself is the product of Not-being.
Even here, in the simplest and final distillation of Zen thought, we find that it all leads back to a woman.
{click on read more}
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Friday, 02 February 2007 |
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  Freddie chilling on the Serge
Be sure to watch the movie Sleep, starring Freddie in an homage to Andy Warhol. The video features the song Serenity Applicator from the Flight of the Atom Bee cd ... chock full of Serge bulbous and flapping bleeps, squiggles, and the carefully chosen and artfully placed intermittent Funky Worm, as declared essential by George Clinton.
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Friday, 29 June 2007 |
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It is with a sad heart that I tell you that I discovered that Freddie was killed today, apparently hit by a car.
He was an amazing, sweet, and funny little cat. I got him at the
shelter about a year ago, to keep Henry, a cat I had gotten from my
friend Stephanie, company.
Henry and Freddie became fast friends, often napping together, playing chase, all those things loving kitties do.
I will miss him. Henry is looking for him.
I think we will go to the shelter tomorrow and bring a new cat home. But as you know, no one can replace the one you've lost.
I made this video one afternoon. He often slept like that, strung like a suspension bridge from the armchair to the scratching post, his round belly hanging. He was a source of constant joy.
Goodbye, my sweet little Freddie.
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