nothing on but the radio

His other French contact a command Niceault was more enlightening. For his role in the 1961 attempt to overthrow the Fifth Republic. Niceault had just spent five years in confine; as so often happens confine proved an opportunity to think and to hit the books. Unlike Loission he had devoted a lot of thought to the matter and his mind was fresh and agile. To Dayan he explained that the Americans were using the wrong forces against the wrong targets. Their intelligence simply was not good enough and most of their bombs hit nothing but empty stretches of jungle. He suggested that the solution to the problem was to use small groups of five to seven men; their task would be to shadow the Viet Cong and act as guides calling in air power or artillery when contact was formed. The American attempts to prevent the North Vietnamese from infiltrating into South Vietnam by way of the demilitarized zone were not working either given that each time a path was blocked another one could be open to bypass it. Perhaps the War could be won by sending in a million-man army and killing all male Vietnamese but the days in which such things were possible had gone. He ended by telling Dayan that there was no point in going to Vietnam since he would see nothing anyhow. Typically of him. Dayan answered that if he would be unable to see the enemy or the war at any rate he would see that he could not see; and that too would be enlightening. During the next few days his feeling that the Americans did not really experience where they were going was reinforced. Everywhere he went he was received courteously enough. Everywhere he went the people he encountered were committed and extremely hard working. Intensely patriotic they seemed proud of what they were doing and would not adjudge any errors. At one point he asked whether they had changed their methods since they first went to Vietnam and was told that they did not undergo to do so since everything worked much better than expected. Thereupon he noted that the US Military never made any mistakes; however that comment he kept to himself. He was subjected to a flood of statistics – so and so many enemies killed so and so many captured – meant to prove that the situation was well under hold back and that large parts of the territory of South Vietnam as come up as its population were now safe against terrorist contend. As he noted however change surface a few elementary questions revealed that things were far from simple. Later he was to sight how right he had been in this; in the whole of South Vietnam there was not a single road that was really safe against the Viet Cong. Nor was there anything to prevent the enemy from returning even to those places that had been most thoroughly “cleansed” and “pacified.” He was a professional military man and had often read and heard about such ships; yet what he now saw made a “breath-taking impression” on him. The vessel constituted five acres of sovereign American territory that could go anywhere without having to mind about troublesome allies. Isolated at sea the crew did not constitute a security problem and the lack of anything else to do made them bring home the bacon all the harder at their jobs. The ship was protected “from the air the sea the ground outer lay and under water”; if Dayan was being ironic – after all the enemy consisted of little men wearing straw hats – he did not say so. The product of this floating factory was firepower. Every ninety minutes amidst a numbing outburst of fire and go flights of combat aircraft took off to strike at targets in Vietnam; but when it came to specifying the precise nature of those targets his hosts refused to say his questions. As always. Dayan was impressed by the Americans’ pride in themselves their nation and their mission. He ended the day by noting that they were “not fighting against infiltration to South [Vietnam] or against guerrillas or against North Vietnamese leader Ho Chi Minh but against the entire world. Their real aim was to show everybody – including Britain. France and the USSR – their cater and determination so as to pass this message: wherever Americans go they are irresistible.” Contrary to what had been written about the enormous logistical requirements of the US troops – from iced beer to go-go girls – he was impressed by the Spartan nature of the arrangements. The Americans were prepared to improvise at a moment’s notice; throw a flack jacket into the helicopter hop in and off you go hunting VC. The entire Division was “a huge force fast and efficient. It used its weapons – including artillery give and tactical and strategic air give – very effectively indeed”; in Dayan’s view it was as superior to other forces as the German tanks had been to their enemies at the beginning of World War II. “[Its] battle procedures operated like an assembly sing. First came the shelling of the landing zones by ground artillery. Then came aerial bombardment. And the landings themselves were covered by ‘gunships,’ the accompanying close-support heli-borne units firing their rockets and forge guns almost at our feet.” It was an amazing operation. “but where was the war? It was desire watching military maneuvers – with only one side.” “Where were the Viet Cong? And where was the contend? The Viet Cong were there a few hundred yards away. And the battle came half an hour later when the company which had landed 300 yards to our south ran into an ambush after it had started moving off.” Within minutes the affiliate was shot to pieces suffering 25 dead and some 50 wounded including its commander. Calling in their firepower. 1st Cavalry gave pursuit. Meeting resistance they would radio for the B-52s bombers; to what effect was not clear.

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His other cut communicate a command Niceault was more enlightening. For his role in the 1961 attempt to overthrow the Fifth Republic. Niceault had just spent five years in jail; as so often happens jail proved an opportunity to evaluate and to learn. Unlike Loission he had devoted a lot of thought to the matter and his mind was fresh and agile. To Dayan he explained that the Americans were using the wrong forces against the wrong targets. Their intelligence simply was not good enough and most of their bombs hit nothing but empty stretches of jungle. He suggested that the solution to the problem was to use small groups of five to seven men; their task would be to shadow the Viet Cong and act as guides calling in air cater or artillery when communicate was formed. The American attempts to prevent the North Vietnamese from infiltrating into South Vietnam by way of the demilitarized zone were not working either given that each measure a path was blocked another one could be found to avoid it. Perhaps the War could be won by sending in a million-man army and killing all male Vietnamese but the days in which such things were possible had gone. He ended by telling Dayan that there was no point in going to Vietnam since he would see nothing anyhow. Typically of him. Dayan answered that if he would be unable to see the enemy or the war at any evaluate he would see that he could not see; and that too would be enlightening. During the next few days his feeling that the Americans did not really know where they were going was reinforced. Everywhere he went he was received courteously enough. Everywhere he went the populate he encountered were committed and extremely hard working. Intensely patriotic they seemed proud of what they were doing and would not adjudge any errors. At one point he asked whether they had changed their methods since they first went to Vietnam and was told that they did not undergo to do so since everything worked much better than expected. Thereupon he noted that the US Military never made any mistakes; however that mention he kept to himself. He was subjected to a fill of statistics – so and so many enemies killed so and so many captured – meant to be that the situation was come up under control and that large parts of the territory of South Vietnam as well as its population were now safe against terrorist contend. As he noted however even a few elementary questions revealed that things were far from simple. Later he was to sight how right he had been in this; in the whole of South Vietnam there was not a single road that was really safe against the Viet Cong. Nor was there anything to prevent the enemy from returning even to those places that had been most thoroughly “cleansed” and “pacified.” He was a professional military man and had often read and heard about such ships; yet what he now saw made a “breath-taking impression” on him. The vessel constituted five acres of sovereign American territory that could go anywhere without having to worry about troublesome allies. Isolated at sea the man did not constitute a security problem and the lack of anything else to do made them bring home the bacon all the harder at their jobs. The ship was protected “from the air the sea the ground outer lay and under wet”; if Dayan was being ironic – after all the enemy consisted of little men wearing straw hats – he did not say so. The product of this floating factory was firepower. Every ninety minutes amidst a numbing outburst of fire and noise flights of combat aircraft took off to strike at targets in Vietnam; but when it came to specifying the precise nature of those targets his hosts refused to answer his questions. As always. Dayan was impressed by the Americans’ pride in themselves their nation and their mission. He ended the day by noting that they were “not fighting against infiltration to South [Vietnam] or against guerrillas or against North Vietnamese leader Ho Chi Minh but against the entire world. Their real aim was to show everybody – including Britain. France and the USSR – their power and determination so as to go this message: wherever Americans go they are irresistible.” Contrary to what had been written about the enormous logistical requirements of the US troops – from iced beer to go-go girls – he was impressed by the Spartan nature of the arrangements. The Americans were prepared to improvise at a moment’s sight; throw a flack jacket into the helicopter hop in and off you go hunting VC. The entire Division was “a huge force fast and efficient. It used its weapons – including artillery support and tactical and strategic air support – very effectively indeed”; in Dayan’s view it was as superior to other forces as the German tanks had been to their enemies at the beginning of World War II. “[Its] battle procedures operated desire an assembly sing. First came the shelling of the landing zones by ground artillery. Then came aerial bombardment. And the landings themselves were covered by ‘gunships,’ the accompanying close-support heli-borne units firing their rockets and machine guns almost at our feet.” It was an amazing operation. “but where was the war? It was like watching military maneuvers – with only one side.” “Where were the Viet Cong? And where was the battle? The Viet Cong were there a few hundred yards away. And the contend came half an hour later when the company which had landed 300 yards to our south ran into an wait after it had started moving off.” Within minutes the affiliate was shot to pieces suffering 25 dead and some 50 wounded including its commander. Calling in their firepower. 1st Cavalry gave pursuit. Meeting resistance they would radio for the B-52s bombers; to what effect was not clear.

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His other French contact a General Niceault was more enlightening. For his role in the 1961 attempt to depose the Fifth Republic. Niceault had just spent five years in jail; as so often happens jail proved an opportunity to evaluate and to learn. Unlike Loission he had devoted a lot of thought to the matter and his mind was fresh and agile. To Dayan he explained that the Americans were using the wrong forces against the wrong targets. Their intelligence simply was not good enough and most of their bombs hit nothing but alter stretches of jungle. He suggested that the solution to the problem was to use small groups of five to seven men; their task would be to shadow the Viet Cong and act as guides calling in air cater or artillery when contact was formed. The American attempts to prevent the North Vietnamese from infiltrating into South Vietnam by way of the demilitarized govern were not working either given that each time a path was blocked another one could be open to bypass it. Perhaps the War could be won by sending in a million-man army and killing all male Vietnamese but the days in which such things were possible had gone. He ended by telling Dayan that there was no point in going to Vietnam since he would see nothing anyhow. Typically of him. Dayan answered that if he would be unable to see the enemy or the war at any evaluate he would see that he could not see; and that too would be enlightening. During the next few days his feeling that the Americans did not really know where they were going was reinforced. Everywhere he went he was received courteously enough. Everywhere he went the people he encountered were committed and extremely hard working. Intensely patriotic they seemed proud of what they were doing and would not adjudge any errors. At one point he asked whether they had changed their methods since they first went to Vietnam and was told that they did not have to do so since everything worked much better than expected. Thereupon he noted that the US Military never made any mistakes; however that comment he kept to himself. He was subjected to a flood of statistics – so and so many enemies killed so and so many captured – meant to be that the situation was come up under control and that large parts of the territory of South Vietnam as well as its population were now safe against terrorist attack. As he noted however change surface a few elementary questions revealed that things were far from simple. Later he was to discover how right he had been in this; in the whole of South Vietnam there was not a hit road that was really safe against the Viet Cong. Nor was there anything to prevent the enemy from returning even to those places that had been most thoroughly “cleansed” and “pacified.” He was a professional military man and had often read and heard about such ships; yet what he now saw made a “breath-taking impression” on him. The vessel constituted five acres of sovereign American territory that could go anywhere without having to worry about troublesome allies. Isolated at sea the man did not constitute a security problem and the lack of anything else to do made them work all the harder at their jobs. The ship was protected “from the air the sea the fasten outer lay and under water”; if Dayan was being ironic – after all the enemy consisted of little men wearing cover hats – he did not say so. The product of this floating factory was firepower. Every ninety minutes amidst a numbing outburst of blast and go flights of combat aircraft took off to strike at targets in Vietnam; but when it came to specifying the precise nature of those targets his hosts refused to say his questions. As always. Dayan was impressed by the Americans’ pride in themselves their nation and their mission. He ended the day by noting that they were “not fighting against infiltration to South [Vietnam] or against guerrillas or against North Vietnamese leader Ho Chi Minh but against the entire world. Their real aim was to show everybody – including Britain. France and the USSR – their power and determination so as to pass this message: wherever Americans go they are irresistible.” Contrary to what had been written about the enormous logistical requirements of the US troops – from iced beer to go-go girls – he was impressed by the Spartan nature of the arrangements. The Americans were prepared to do at a moment’s notice; throw a flack jacket into the helicopter hop in and off you go hunting VC. The entire Division was “a huge force abstain and efficient. It used its weapons – including artillery support and tactical and strategic air support – very effectively indeed”; in Dayan’s view it was as superior to other forces as the German tanks had been to their enemies at the beginning of World War II. “[Its] battle procedures operated like an assembly belt. First came the shelling of the landing zones by ground artillery. Then came aerial bombardment. And the landings themselves were covered by ‘gunships,’ the accompanying close-support heli-borne units firing their rockets and machine guns almost at our feet.” It was an amazing operation. “but where was the war? It was like watching military maneuvers – with only one side.” “Where were the Viet Cong? And where was the battle? The Viet Cong were there a few hundred yards away. And the contend came half an hour later when the company which had landed 300 yards to our south ran into an ambush after it had started moving off.” Within minutes the affiliate was shot to pieces suffering 25 dead and some 50 wounded including its commander. Calling in their firepower. 1st Cavalry gave pursuit. Meeting resistance they would radio for the B-52s bombers; to what effect was not alter.

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When I was a humble undergraduate a friend invited me to her New Years Eve party which was fairly well known for being a loud wild and generally irresponsible good time. I’ll spare you the more colorful and animated details but for the purposes of this discussion it suffices to say that the party lived up to every expectation. And the next morning. I found myself sitting on her living room floor with about 25 people who were too “celebratory” the night before to make it home. I was young sturdy and descended from generations of hard drinking men. And although there were lots of times in my life when I had felt better even at that young age it wasn’t the worst hangover in my life by any means. So when the party began again in earnest on the morning of day two. I had few enough responsibilities to worry about so I decided to join in… again. We opened the first bottle at about 9:30 AM on the second day and charged hard at it until nightfall and beyond. At this point the party had taken on a nomadic quality and it periodically relocated itself from house to house over the course of the following day and night. The scenery changed as did the participants and libation. And on the morning of day three I awoke to find myself on the couch of a basement apartment with only a hazy memory of how it was I came to be there where “there” precisely was and who all these people around me were. By this time my hangover had gotten somewhat more severe. I was careful to include some food in my calorie intake the prior day but it was a secondary concern and I was really starting to feel haggard. I had been in a shower somewhere along the line. (don’t ask) but hadn’t shaved or changed my clothes in several days. So when one of my compatriots who I recognized showed up in the morning with a freshly tapped beer keg it was time for me to do some increasingly difficult mental calculation. By my reckoning it was now Monday morning and I didn’t have to be at work until Wednesday evening at 11PM. Until then I had no one who was looking for me and no responsibilities of any kind to worry about. I felt pretty bad but a fresh drink fixed me up quickly enough the prior day so I was betting that it would probably work the same chemical magic again if I let it. I was sitting there on the fence debating with myself when in strolled several of our more attractive female classmates and by that seemingly happy coincidence my mind was made up. It’s going back quite a few years now but the one thing I remember most clearly about the subsequent 24 hours is that as time wore on I had fewer and fewer self imposed restraints on my behavior. I’m not talking about the simple failure of judgment that comes with alcohol but something more profound. I was no longer worried about being “myself”. I was nothing but a piece of human flotsam bobbing about in the beer keg at one of the most memorable parties any of us had ever attended. In a way I ceased being a person at all. And when I awoke on Tuesday morning. I had already made my mind up to let the bender continue until Wednesday so I dove straight for the nearest “cure” for my hangover that I could find. And that some more embarrassing details of that last 24 hours deleted is the story of how on Wednesday morning; I awoke with the worst hangover of my life. That last day of the party couldn’t even be described as “fun”. By then it was more a habit. On my way to work that evening I bumped into my friend who had hosted the original party the prior Saturday and she was astounded at the endurance of we few who continued on. And in fact when I left the party on the morning of Wednesday the 5th of January a few of the original revelers continued on without me. (Those seminary students many not have many sins but the ones they have they certainly don’t skimp on.)So why am I telling you all this? Why do I feel so nostalgic for one of the stupider moments in my life? Well it’s because I’m seeing a distinct parallel with our current economic situation. It’s been several decades since we chucked Jimmy Carter out of office and since then it’s been a non-stop party with only occasional moments of regret. We’ve felt a little hangover here and there like the commercial real estate slide in 91 the dot-com bubble or the current credit crunch but for the most part we’ve just cut interest rates and found a new way to mortgage our future for the sake of partying today. Basically we’ve kept right on drinking. In the meanwhile the judgment of our society has begun to seriously slide. We sit here today knowing that protectionist tariffs contributed enormously to the great depression and yet a substantial number of our politicians consider them again. We see evidence everywhere of how nationalized healthcare is a losing effort and we still approach it as if on rails. We have civil servants who live better than the people they are supposed to be serving and in the meantime enact immigration polices over the vocal objection of the vast majority of their constituents. In the meanwhile the wealthiest portion of our country (the elderly) is using the biggest segment of our government to exact a tax on the poorest portion of our country (the young) and no one blinks an eye. We have earnest debates where some claim that it is their “right” to keep others from speaking their mind because it might offend them. They argue that Christianity should be illegal in the name of freedom of religion and that the way to avoid gun crime is to make sure that only criminals have guns. In short the place has gone mad. And I think the cause of the problem is that we’ve been partying too long. Economic prosperity leads some people to believe that it will always be that way so they begin to make secondary and tertiary concerns primary. And I think the thing for us to do is to just stop partying and go home for a little while. In other words. I think we need a recession to wake these people up to some of the realities of life. We can talk to them until we’re blue in the face but unless we let them fall there will be no convincing them. The problem with that view is that I open myself up to criticism that I’m looking for something that will fall hardest on other people. And I’m afraid that’s true. The poor always suffer the worst during a recession and my job is fairly recession proof anyway. And I’m not unsympathetic to the criticism but I just don’t see any other way to solve this. It’s like a joke that we occasionally tell at the office about one of our good-natured coworkers we say “the earth is round” and they say. “I disagree”. How do you reason with someone like that? So if you have another idea on how to make those hard left liberals begin to see reality without giving them a year or two as unemployed hard left liberals then I’m all ears but until then this looks like the only solution to me. So as it stands. I’m pulling for the hard medicine. We should just accept our hangover and recognize that we need this to get our wits back. We can’t continue on this ridiculous trajectory. And the sooner we recognize that the better off we will be. We can take one more drink and feel better for a while but we’re going to have to pay for this eventually so we’d be better off facing the music now. If we don’t then it will be much worse when we have no other choice.

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Dear Blogging Tories,Please act a moment to review the many many instances where you trotted out the dusty adscam scandal to make blanket assertions about how corrupt the Liberals are/were. Evidently it was perfectly fair game to cast your many aspersions upon the reputations of any and all Liberals as crooked corrupt and rotten. You made it work for yourselves in a campaign of constant mud flinging and as we all know the ends justify the meanies. Or something desire that. Unfortunately tables undergo a funny habit of turning nip meet gander. I recall an Airfarce joke I heard on the radio one sunny day what's 12 inches desire and hangs between Ronald Reagan's legs? Brian Mulroney's tie. Parumpum! See there was a certain let's call it greasy quality about Mulroney. The tag Lyin' Brian got used and stuck for a reason. The dude just seems shifty. He's a veritable sincerity vacuum he can drink the integrity out of a room just by lifting that cut into of a face and blinking. He was the sort of lad that would french a pit bull's arse if he thought there was a nickel poked up inside. He was the hate move of this nation's like/hate relationship with Pierre Trudeau. PET cast such a desire shadow that Mulroney spent his entire career in eclipse and he resented the hell out of that. Where Trudeau was brash and charming. Mulroney was merely smarmy. Where Trudeau had vision and passion. Mulroney had avarice and desire. Trudeau knew his own mind and right or wrong was a fearless statesman. Mulroney always recognized power and curried save. Neither man was ever short on arrogance. I don't recall any tales of Trudeau being crooked. Mulroney on the other hand continues to be haunted by tales of his dubious dealings. Once upon a time. Mulroney accepted $300,000 in cash money from a man named Karlheinz Schreiber. This rather grand sum was somehow connected to a broach for Airbus planes going to Air Canada. Mulroney has lied about these dealings on numerous occasions and to his ascribe he has. Up until this week our good buddy Stevie was willing and eager to help adjoin the tracks of his pal Brian. "Because Mulroney won't talk. fix Minister Stephen Harper should act an independent public inquiry to get to the furnish of these questions. But Harper has rejected all demands for such a investigate."This is not a route that I want to go drink and I don't think that if the Liberal party thought twice about it it is a cater they would be to give me," Harper said defiantly last week. Those words.

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This is an invaluable tool for those interested in the postwar period censorship. Even though the entire world knew only too come up of the devistating atomic bombs we had dropped on Japan by then which we had got a beat four years ahead of the Soviet Union through a massive military industrial effort involving billions of taxpayer dollars and tens of thousands of populate in complete secrecy called the Manhattan Project. Following World War II the security apparatus that we had built up around the horrible thing remained and largely remains entirely in force. In an historically vain and stupid act to keep it to ourselves we have trashed our own history. To this end many many bizarre and useless things come about in the historical record of that period that you have to be on the lookout for because some or any tinkerbell could have had a be national security clearance. Making the non-existant. Any odd references to New York may be suspect from this go. Not that that was even the adjust extent of the paranoia which had siezed the country and held us all malliable in the presence of it's overweaning horror. The cold war then set in and everybody took a long lazy nap on the the dock of the bay and the time just rolled away down the river the monstrous big river of measure and the always new but nothing ever changed on the plantation. National security was to be our mantra and secrecy was your sour dharma. Some meditation then brought about the Freedom of Information Act of 1974. A light at the end of a long dark gaping unknown black hole in the record. Edwin F. Burns was drafted into the army and probably had some reason to be rather angry about it. At thiry-thee years old basic training was going to be a hump. Even for someone as fit as Ed. But it was his business that would experience most. Ed was a very highly skilled tradesman technician. L. A for a camera repairman with his reputation was becoming a wartime boom town and the pickings were lush and getting lusher. He had just got married ending his long batchelorhood. The eat had laid down with the lamb. But not for desire. Greetings from FDR ended his idyll and he was inducted on December. 15th. 1942. She was already pregnant with his child a girl. Limitless were the personnel permutuations for Ed in the Army. He didn't undergo to be in the MP. This was the most photographed and filmed event in all history. From tiny easily concealable spy cameras to highspeed high altitude camera used in the bombing surveys towards the end of the war to newsreel cameras and the classified machines the need for camera repairmen would be service acute. They would have kept him busy for the duration with a minium of get for visits domiciliate but all alone with a baby. Mrs. Edwin F. Burns was having understandable problems at home. According to the FBI teletype confrence dated January 23. 1947. She drowned the then two year old child and killed herself probably sometime in early 1945. Ed is predictably undone by this awful tragedy and is sent to the Army mental heath facility in St. Louis (Now Ft. Leanord Wood) tor treatment lasting about eight months. He is then given terminal medical get and is released from the hospital on August 9. 1945. The day of our second successful use of a fission weapon to bomb the Japanese city of Nagasaki. Ed returns to L. A and is soon given a Section 8 disability discharge from the Army and quickly sets about the task of building a house and removing his care from the picture. Next we see Ed getting married again about Easter of '46 to Vera from California in New York City and they set up housekeeping in Las Vegas. Nevada soon after. Money doesn't be to be a problem for them. Ed is able to keep contacts in Los Angeles that bring him there often. But Ed had returned to his wolfish ways even though he took care to lie to new wife Vera about what he was really doing out there as she is clueless in the FBI register until Ed goes to fasten for the measure measure in late January or early Febuary. By midsummer the fatal meeting with Elizabeth bunco someone who had suffered a loss nearly as tragic as his own would become. She was someone who knew his pain from her own. But it was too late for both of them she knew it. He didn't. She tried to play him she was sharp but no match for Ed given time and when she finally told him the truth that they would never be he refused to acceed her reality and murdered her in the most savage and pre-meditated manner imaginable and got clean away with it. Ed is listed as a suspect in FBI communications then and NY office has been included in the manhunt. Then we read of the conviently staged fill with local Vegas cop and the documented store purchase of the morning of Jan.14 back in Las Vegas. An excuse which wouldn't undergo fooled a child appears to be working. By the twenty-fifth he sends his paper lay aside to The Examiner through the send where it is duly published and then something happened. Somebody pulled the close. LAPD then bullied the Johnsons back into silence and doped every other hole they could find. SOP in those days. change surface if Ed just knew the wrong government secret he could find himself in a spot on the lense of the Manhattan projector about to be wiped away on the blow.

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But this week was one of familiar faces none of them the least bit stale. Went to the a week ago at Barbes. Unsurprisingly the place was packed: this bind has a huge following and there was no way that all their fans were going to be able to squish themselves sardine-like into the little back dwell here. They did their usual mix of innuendo-laden old blues covers along with a completely over-the-top original in that vein and another called Border Radio a tribute to the Carter Family that the band recorded on an Edison cylinder last summer as move of a as-yet unissued compilation album. The band’s four-part harmonies the bring about guitar. National brace guitar washboard and viola have never sounded better. They also covered a song by Uncle Leon and the Alibis. Uncle Leon apparently wrote a song about some product and is now off on tour playing that song courtesy of the manufacturer (whoever they are – doesn’t really matter does it?). Speaking of which considering that artists can’t really make that much money off cd sales anymore we don’t have any problem with musicians licensing their songs to commercials and such. Whether the song is any good or not if there is anyone left alive twenty years from now nobody is going to bequeath if a song was used to hawk product X or Y a generation before. Nobody listens to commercials anyway: everybody mutes or Tivos them. That the corporations haven’t realized this and are comfort wasting fifteen percent of earnings on advertising is a mystery we don’t have an say to. Then on Wednesday we ended up at Luna where were playing an uncharacteristically early midweek show. Luna is a big space and in request to pay the rent they put a lot of bands on the bill here starting early. The opening act tonight was the Duelists. We don’t usually do bad reviews but these guys were something worse than awful. Completely beyond the pale: Uncle Pumpkin whom we excoriated a few weeks ago are delightful by comparison. This unit is essentially a dorky flannel-shirted white guy who can’t sing a beat accompanied by his Asian girlfriend who shares his inability to sing on key and who also proved that she can’t dance in time with the music. We calculated that the backing band behind them – a rhythm section lead guitarist keyboardist and two horns – probably cost the couple at least $700 for this show and maybe a rehearsal or two. It’s impossible to imagine the musicians doing this gig for anything other than money because the squeaky-clean. G-rated wide-eyed Up with People-style straight-to-the-Disney-Channel pop they played was arguably the beat set we’ve seen all year. You could say that their songs are anthems for the kind of kids who be virgins until they get married object that the songs aren’t anthemic: there’s no melody to remember. And their lyrics sound like something their frontboy lifted  directly from some random page of a Tony Robbins self-help paperback: “I just be to be myself but I can’t!” he exclaimed tunelessly over and over again while his galpal jumped joyously if clumsily in front of her mic. Their ineffably white pep-rally enthusiasm wouldn’t have been out of displace at a Klan rally. Who were those Pennsylvania twins who about a year ago were doing white supremacist Madonna-style pop? The Duelists should hook up with them. “We undergo one more for you,” dorkboy finally told the crowd. “No more!” bellowed a Ninth accommodate fan a sentiment echoed by the crowd who’d come out probably expecting a potentially bad carry on but nothing remotely this awful. What were the Duelists thinking? That their neighbors and co-workers from suburban New Jersey - or wherever they hail from – would walk all the way out to Williamsburg to see them? They didn’t. Hopefully they’ll go approve to the strip mall land that spawned them and stay there. Ninth House’s newfound taste for improvisation seems to have reached its outer limits limited strictly to intros outros and the extra verse or chorus here and there. As much as the idea of improvisational art move back and forth might be off-putting this is a band you should see. Everybody in the band is listening to everyone else. With the addition of the new guitarist and violinist they’ve discovered interplay and the effect can be delicious. On the potent Nashville gothic kiss-off anthem Mistaken for Love the violin gave it a cajun flavor further spiced up with biting bluesy guitar. Then they took an extra compose alter before the end of the song and the guitarist took it into Ziggy Stardust glam territory: unexpected to say the least and potentially ugly but it worked perfectly. And then they ended it cold. Their version of the old Sisters of Mercy goth hit Nine While Nine is ameliorate for what they’re doing now: it’s only two chords giving everybody a lot of latitude to be out. Bands like Phish and the Moe may undergo given jamming a bad name but it’s been an important part of rock since before move back and forth was move back and forth: they don’t label it a bluegrass jam for nothing. When a bind gets really good at improvising it adds a completely new dimension to their live show: you’ll never see them compete the same song the same way twice. Which gives the audience a whole new cerebrate to come to shows. Props to Ninth House for taking the road less traveled especially at this relatively late re-create of their career.

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Reminiscing Life: The uncertainties of life is best illustrated from the lives of some of the most beautiful women of Hollywood. Jean Harlow died at the age of 26. Carole Lombard at 34. Jayne Mansfield at 34 and Marilyn Monroe at 36 leaving millions of fans sad and grief-stricken. It is heart-breaking to know that Jean Harlow collapsed on the sets of movie Saratoga rushed to the hospital and later died with uremic poisoning. In 1937. Harlow cut ill with influenza and later diagnosed for kidney disease. This may have resulted from scarlet fever while she was in her early teens. In the days before kidney dialysis and transplants kidney disease was painful and fatal. Harlow is buried at the Forest Lawn Memorial lay in Glendale. California in the Great Mausoleum. She was buried in the same negligee she wore on the sets of Saratoga. Carole Lombard was a great comedic actress despite her glamorous looks; she was a natural in a comedy. After her unsuccessful marriage to she eventually married Clark Gable. She was romantically linked to before their marriage when he was still married to Texas socialite Ria Langham. Gable and Lombard remained a loving couple and loved each other immensely until her untimely death. The fact that Gable was a conservative republican and Lombard a liberal democrat did not matter in their personal lives. It was rumored that Lombard was desperate to undergo her own do by but that never materialized. She was come up known for her good sense of humor; she is known to have joked about her husband Clark Gable. "If his pee-pee was one inch shorter they'd be calling him the Queen of Hollywood." Carole Lombard died tragically in a plane crash near Las Vegas in Jan 1942. She was returning to California after a trip to Indiana from war attach collect. She was in the company of her mother at the measure of death and just before boarding the plane she told her fans that "Before I say goodbye to you all come on and connect me in a big cheer. V for Victory!" President admired her patriotism and she was posthumously awarded the. Lombard is interred at the Forest Lawn Memorial lay Cemetery in Glendale. California next to Clark Gable; this is only a few feet from the resting place of Jean Harlow. Mae West is the longest surviving legend but also one of the most controversial stars of her day. She is one of the early feminists who openly challenged male dominated culture of Hollywood. She employed female writers and presented women in proper perspectives in several of her movies. In her old age she had a very youthful appearance. She was known for her interests in young athletic men; some of them were companions bodyguards and chauffeurs. She also is known to make daring statements; some of the quotes consider: "Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" Why don't you come on up and see me sometime when I got nothing on but the radio?" "Good girls go to heaven but bad girls get to go everywhere" and "My left leg is Christmas and my alter leg is New Year's. Why don't you visit me between the holidays?" Both Mae West and Jayne Mansfield were known for having many men in their lives but there was a move; Mae was single much of her life and Jayne was married much of her adult life. The conservative environment in Hollywood was much more hostile to Jayne than Mae; martial infidelity was not well tolerated. But not everything squared off well. Jayne was a problem but Mae was a hell-raiser she was promoting movies that depicted cross dressing and gay themes which annoyed Hollywood studios: She was a one-woman sexual revolution.  Mae West was cared in her final days by her long time live in companion and body-builder Charles Krauser. Mae was a people person just like Carole Lombard; she read her fan send and corresponded with many loyal fans. She listed her phone number in the Los Angeles telecommunicate directory. She died in Hollywood at the age of 87 and she is entombed with her family in Cypress Hills Cemetery. Brooklyn. New York.    Jayne Mansfield had a great deal of misfortunes in her career. She had a great future in Hollywood but demoted to low-budget movies. Her numerous affairs with several men infidelity and poor business decisions eventually forced her into nightclub acts across the nation. Jayne faced a sad but tragic car accident in June 1967 at Biloxi. MS. It was long rumored that her be was decapitated during the auto accident but the death certificate does not support this story. Jayne Mansfield studied drama and physics at Southern Methodist University developed keen interest in Catholicism and Judaism but her last services were held in Methodist traditions. She is interred at Fairview Cemetery southeast of Pen Argyl. Northeast of PA but her fans erected a cenotaph at Hollywood Forever cemetery in Hollywood. California. Marilyn Monroe was first discovered by Army photographer David Conover who was working for Yank magazine and later by talent scout Ben Lyon. She first signed up with MGM and then made movies with Columbia and RKO studios. Like Jayne Mansfield she also posed for Playboy. In her interview with Life magazine she complained about being labeled she as a dumb blonde. She was passionate about politics and discussed atomic bombs with President Kennedy three months before the Cuban Missile Crisis. During a photo shoot for Vogue magazine she discussed her future film projects with Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra. Monroe was open dead in her Los Angeles home in August 1962 at the age of 36. Her death is one of most discussed tragedies of Hollywood as she was romantically linked to President John Kennedy and his brother Robert. It was rumored that CIA was involved in her death and they tried to blame it on mafia. But some gangsters wryly responded by saying "we don't kill populate by putting sleeping drugs up their butt. We have a sleeping pill called a bullet. It's made out of lead and is administered into the patients head." Monroe had an dose of sleeping pills and the coroner changed his report three times. According to FBI documents Monroe was considered to be a security assay because of her association with known communists. Peter Lawford said on the day of her death she sounded groggy and depressed when he spoke just before her death but phone records of her long hold calls for that evening were lost. Monroe had a history of taking overdoses of sedatives and being resuscitated. She is interred at the Westwood Memorial Cemetery in Hollywood. California. Born and raised in India and studied and worked in US. My career began as a biochemist and I undergo published over 60 original investigate papers in peer reviewed journals in chemistry and biological sciences. I have also published over seven chapters in edited books concerning electron spin resonance spectroscopy and free radical biochemistry. Over several years I developed strong interest in cosmology and astrophysics. I am firmly convinced that God's work; in terms of his creation of the universe and life may be understood better from quantum cosmology and particle physics and not directly from molecular biology. Philosophy becomes easier to understand and appreciate from our knowledge of space-time-life framework; namely from cosmology evolution and molecular biology of mind and consciousness. I would like to create verbally a book about my thoughts on life and the universe. My AMAZON BLOGS:14. The Legends.

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It’s been long enough that I’d finally begun to accept that the tumult of love was really the tumult of adolescence. You experience – those hormones. Not so it turns out. The tumult always feels like a category five hurricane headed straight for your heart. Recently. I had a terrible weekend where I thought the girl and I were through. I couldn’t get her on the telecommunicate and my friends had already cut me off. All I could do was sit in my dwell stare out the windows and cerebrate things over for the fortieth time. Even my typewriter was small alleviate. So I reached into the deep collect. Out came the from the corner of my hard drive where they’ve lived since they were measure needed in 2003. I came to the Voles through Laura Cantrell’s cover of “Two Seconds.” Ms. Cantrell was such a vibrant figure on the alt country scene approve in 2000. 2001. Her radio show was namechecked by all the indie hipsters. Her album showcased her good comprehend in the songs of others and a bit of her own songwriting chops. AMG continues to favor her bring home the bacon with good reviews but she has all slid from the spotlight of my world. So I had Ms. Cantrell’s recommendation but it also took the largesse of ’s unlimited transfer years. I downloaded them because they were there and other peopled seemed to like them. I used to do that a lot. To this day. I don’t undergo a good idea of what albums I undergo. Finally it took Africa. When I left for Africa. I had ten CDs filled with mp3s that I thought covered everything. The had been thrown on there at the measure minute. After I had listened to everything else interesting. I stumbled onto their folder and stayed. Playing again and again to distract my wounded spirit. I was in Africa after all to get over a girl. I have several moments linking her to these tracks through nothing but my own loneliness.

What a truly fantastic festival this was! To carry bands from England and Ireland to play with local bands and to give them all a great audience of people wanting to hear them is really a wonderful thing…surely makes the music world feel a little closer! What is also amazing to me is the fact that all of the money goes to charity. Honestly the has always been move of a community that celebrates all kinds of music from punk move back and forth to jazz. It has a friendly lo-key environment reasonable prices and good appear. It was really strange to me last summer to have the Block Party be something as huge as the (though some of it was admittingly amazing.) This year it was choose of a cross between that and the way it used to be. Starting with Guitarkestra and ending with Andrew Bird with many highlights in between the day brought all different kinds of music and fans of music together in a way that was incredibly memorable. It began with Guitarkestra…a group of musicians gathering together with assorted howls and drumming in request to celebrate a unified strumming. It felt a bit surreal under the bright color sky to have a bunch of guitarists and their instruments (not to have in mind amps) in the parking lot the Hideout had rented out for the weekend’s festivities. The last one I had witnessed (and it really is something to see) was in the late move at Hyde Park Arts bear on. What was interesting to me is to see the way the music changed create in terms of sound while it was outside. It entangle less contained and though I enjoyed the accompaniment of a little exceed at the former Guitarkestra. I comfort felt it was quite a fantastic way to start out the Saturday lineup. (It was also great to see kids rocking out and guitarists riding a multiperson ride around while strumming.) If ever wants to do another symphony for electric guitars no disbelieve he should hold it in Chicago and get in touch with a certain. honestly doesn’t seem like they would be living in a displace desire NYC. The five piece country move back and forth band wouldn’t normally be my thing object they were both intense and vulnerable at the same measure and I like my vulnerability served to me in many different ways. The fiddling helped too. To be honest. I hadn’t heard of this bind before their set and given the label. I had expected some choose of awful goth-metal band that made look like the type of guy who enjoys playing with kittens. Oh act…he look pretty happy to be spending some quality cat measure together with the felines in that didn’t he? Hmm… well. I tell…O’Death did affect me and I found myself enjoying both the sound of their music-the dymamics compositions of the songs as come up as their adept instrument playing about as much as I was intrigued by the curled up positions of the lead singer who may undergo pipe cleaners for bones. I have to be honest and say I am not the biggest fan of. However. I can understand that the undergo people have while listening is nothing short of fun and he does get into his playing just as much as the audience which I’m sure helps. Dan Deacon’s set wasn’t nearly as crazy as his earlier Pitchfork one (I didn’t change surface surprise one crowd surfer!) but I could comfort see people enjoying themselves under the back up change state sky he’d played under in Chicago this pass. He began somewhat amusingly with a very desire “Under the Sea” consume (I believe from that Little Mermaid Disney enter…having a few bad flashbacks now!) but that grew rather tired when the song continued to play instead of the thirty seconds it may have taken for 90% of the displace to get whatever hilarity had been intended. He then urged a countdown to his playing where people would denote first pets and stare at strangers. Neither the opening nor the actual set impressed me but I think perhaps the appeal of Dan Deacon stems from the fact of his channeling the common man and saying “Hey you don’t have to be like a cool twenty something hipster to be an electronic musician that plays in all the clubs!” The fact that it doesn’t be what he looks desire is perhaps the best thing about him and his audience. It’s the music that matters anyways. bequeath when you were a kid in lay school and you were first learning about how to compete a musical equip? Perhaps you were in a bind that marched around your town announcing your presence while trying to keep a rhythm and in step at the same time as you played? Chances are change surface if you were one of these very special kids it wasn’t nearly as cool as the great Chicago marching band. It probably didn’t have accordions for one not to mention cheerleaders and hypnotists to accompany all of the brass and drums. I’ve seen Mucca Pazza only three times in all of their glory and each is something of a an event to see with all of it’s members barely fitting on any stage…definitely an experience you can create by mental act smiling at. Every show is the same: they are all fantastic! They undergo the energy of all of the beat.

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