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Sunday, 31 December 2006 |
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 "... fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words, they are perspectives ...
"So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain
unknown to you then I would suggest you allow the fifth of November to
pass unmarked.
"But if you see what I see,
if you feel as I feel,
and if you would seek as I seek,
then I ask you to stand beside me one year from tonight ..."
—V, V For Vendetta
[This is Part Two of a three-part series. If you haven't done so, you may want to read Part One first.]
So we
are talking about the killing of President John F. Kennedy, the
fact that his killers were never brought to justice, and the feeling
that we are now, as a country, living in Bizarro-world, where everything
is the opposite of what it is supposed to be.
We
left off in Part One with my ex-gangster friend replying,"Are you
having a nice night, kid?" when I asked him who his associates in the
mafia thought had killed JFK.
I smiled, but was silent, totally focussed on him and whatever he might say next.
And
he said, finally, looking at me levelly,"I could tell you a story. I
don't like to talk about it that much. I knew at least fifty people who
were involved who have been killed ..."
(further conversation on the flip-flop)
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Sunday, 03 December 2006 |
 the bondage jukebox: the best bdsm music and bondage songs
A Mylene Farmer cd cover. I found a myspace tribute page to her. Her
music is like most 80's metal: easy
listening music with drums and distorted guitar. Lots of thick synth
pads, too ... kind of Enya with hairly legs, but in a good way. Mylene is
clearly endowed with amazing talents. A HUGE star in Europe.
One of may artists featured on the Bondage Jukebox::::
The French Madonna makes like Joan Jett crossed with Catherine Deneuve
in some of the most amazing bdsmy concerts you've never seen, in which
she prances in latex hobble dresses, steel-cage ponygirl attire and
other visual delights while cooing ethereal over a heavy-metal
soundtrack. She even managed to sneak a naughty song ("L'Histoire d'une
fÈe, c'est..." the last two words of which translate phonetically into
"fessee," French for spanking) onto the soundtrack for Rugrats In
Paris. (more on the flipflop)
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Tuesday, 09 January 2007 |
A tale from the wild-n-wooly days of the internets
I met Bonnie in the early days of
usenet mail groups. She came to my defense as I was being viciously flamed
by an asshole who was, he said, a published author, a lyricist for a rock
band: a self-promoting digerati jerk of the highest caliber, involved with
a lot of rapidly developing Internet issues, a self-proclaimed shaman, and
always had a sig file that quoted J.P. Barlow, founder of the Electronic
Freedom Foundation. Do I think it was the great Bloviator himself? Yes, but I can't prove it. As I said, the guy was too chickenshit to reveal his identity. More about Barlow some other day.
In her well-written defense of me, Bonnie mentioned that she wore size five underwear, was 28 years old,
and was a single mom living in New Jersey and that the anonymous guy who
was too chickenshit to reveal his name could pick on her, too.
I was impressed, in more ways than one.
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Sunday, 13 May 2007 |
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I remember a sunny Berkeley afternoon some thirty-plus years ago.
Sitting in the living room at Ashby House
(first house on the right, heading downhill, after Claremont Ave.;
it's still there, but not as nice:
they added the ugly addition and removed all the leaded glass windows),
listening to Radioactivity, the new Kraftwerk album with my hippie friend, Russell.
Drinking beer, smoking dope and Camel cigarets,
as was the order of of the day every day at Ashby House.
Antenna came on the stereo.
Halfway through the song, Russell started shouting:
"That IS NOT music! I don't know what it is, but it IS NOT MUSIC!"
I'm not sure what he meant. It's my favorite Kraftwerk song.
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Thursday, 20 September 2007 |
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If six-year-olds can sound as good as q-bert and z-trip (always tooted as the "turntablist" equivalents of jimi hendrix), then ... well, you know ... a lot of them, djs, not six-year-olds, are ... uh ... good businessmen and promoters, i guess.
If I woke up in the morning and had to look in the mirror and say,"Knox, you are a DJ!," I would put a bullet through my head.
If you are a DJ, and you are reading this, it is not too late for you. You may be addicted to the easy money and easier women, and you may not ever, ever have the discipline required to make real art, but you can escape the soul-killing shame of pretending to possess some skills, knowledge, or talent, beyond sucking ass for bookings, and buying other peoples' records to play. Write me: there is a solution.
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