Saturday, January 31, 2009

"Signal to Noise"

A man sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousands of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

Three minutes went by and a middle aged man noticed there was musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried up to meet his schedule.

A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the till and without stopping continued to walk.

A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and
started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work.

The one who paid the most attention was a 3 year old boy. His mother tagged him along, hurried but the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.

In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth 3.5 million dollars.

Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theater in Boston and the seats averaged $100.

Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of an social experiment about perception, taste and priorities of people The outlines were: in a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize the talent in an unexpected context?

One of the possible conclusions from this experience could be:

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing the best music ever written, how many other things are we

Washington Times

A tip of the "Sydneyland" top hat to dear Comrad Chip for the heads up on this very interesting story.

Btw this wouldn't have happened in New York. ("Ahem, straightens top hat'n tails with local pride.)The hoards of manics in this part of the woods know a good sound when they hear it.

They'd have stopped dead in their steamy tracks by the hundreds to hear this cool cat wail! 'Would'a had fist fights over whether Joshua's Bach or Paganini performances should be top of da pops!

Friday, January 30, 2009

"Peaceable Kingdom"

"Holy Crap am I Sick!"

I have no idea where this came from. All I know is suddenly I'm walking on the walls, and hearing things backwards. Mind you all this would be fun if I also wasn't puking up everything I ever ate.

Did I mention the headaches, and other points of extreme agony? 'Course then there's the hacking cough, and endlessly runny nose. For heaven sakes I thought I'd done all the penance that was required of me for a while.

It probably wasn't a good idea to watch "28 Days Later" in my condition either

The upside is I'm deep in a warm cozy bed, and not some street, train, or friends couch,...sweetly given though the couch was. Much loving thanks to the Rt. Rev. Martin, and Mrs. in my time of trial.

I need more sleep, and more soup.

'Back soon.

Thursday, January 29, 2009


Greetings gang. For those interested in how my searching for a new home is coming go over to "Sydneyhause". (...see link) The good news is I'm nolonger homeless, and I have all the documents I need to get all the documents I need.

Life in Kafka's post 9/11 world.

Oh the joy of hot water, shampoo, a warm bed, cable tv, and Chinese take out. I'm a person again! Whereas I'd never suggest it as a holiday option being Homeless has changed me. I'm another person. It's too soon to say what kind.

I've seen things, and had to do things that I thought would never enter into my life. I think I'll be a better performer, artist, and person, but as I say,...I don't know. It's too much. I think it's kin to what soldiers have to deal with when they come home from war.

I've experienced, and am experiencing emotions I have no name for. I need time, and safety to process all this. I told a friend that I need to close my door, lock it, and not come out for a long, long time.

Stay Tuned.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009


I love Nijinsky. As a youth I read everything I could find on him. I longed over what few historic photos that survived. It isn't that I wanted to be a dancer it's just that his story, his strange, wonderful, painful life spoke to me.

Touched the very center of my Soul.

Perhaps It's good that we're separated by half a world, and nearly a century of apocalyptic history. Otherwise I would have followed him about.

If I were 14 or 15 had access to a time machine, and could speak French, Russian, and German I'd be his stalker.

Interesting plot for a short story.

A Queer colored teenager from the 21st century pursues the object of his confused desires. All this amid the intregies of 1911 Moscow.

Plenty of opportunity for ironic humor, cultural anti-matter, and "Lucy Show" collisions.

I can see it now, Romola, Nijinsky's long suffering wife sits me down in my hearts desires study. She pours me mint tea in a painted heirloom china cup, "...young man"

She offers more lemon cookies, "You must understand my husband is very busy."

A robin perched on the window sill stares at us.

Steam curls above my cup.

"His work is very important, and he can't be disturbed"

Romala looks at me with sympathetic patients.

"I just want to see him for for a moment" I say.

"Please, I just want to look into his eyes"

"To see his soul"

"I must understand him"

"I wish the same, said Romola, do we all that love him."

With that she turns reaching for the tea pot, "...does your mother know where you are?"

That's as far as I take my fantasy. How to explain my time machine or becoming a boy again or youtube?

Monday, January 26, 2009

"New Jersey UFO's"

Weird lights in New Jersey. Might be balloons or maybe something from the local airbase. On the other hand might be them Saucer Guys at it again.

I love this stuff. In fact I started a UFO club at my high school. There were serious ufo flaps back in the 1960's. We had a ball. As for if these guys are real,...sure why not.

Given the deranged shit that we already know is real having space guys hang'n out is no big deal.

Did I ever tell you the story about how me, and my Aunt Sybil was abduct by alien robot guys when I was four years old?

Scary bleep that.

Below are really neat fake UFO's!

Well I can see the space guys wanting to check out beach front property, like above, but Brooklyn?

You're telling me our alien pals come all the way from planet X just to check out Brooklyn, and a pretty rough block at that. Hell if that's the case I'll sublet them my former leaky hovel.

Gold-Pressed Latinum!

Sunday, January 25, 2009

"Passages to Heaven"

Most fans of the 'net have seen sites that have snapshots of the millions of doorways to Hell. The scary things are all over the place,...see link. Anyway I thought I'd start a new series.

"Doorways to Heaven"

Well okay doorways, passages, stairs, ladders, and assorted buildings, found objects, and possible loopholes into the Bright, and Happy Lands.

These are my first discoveries. I found the above alley, and Angel encrypted warehouse, below, in Tribeca lower Manhattan. If you stand in just the right spot beneath the Angel prints you can hear the rustling of wings.

...well that or Angles bleeping.

The alley way is clearly a passage to the lowest level of Heaven. (...see heavenly portal aglow top center) One walks into the darkness, and is then lifted into the light,..or mugged.

The old building with the encryptions is clearly an Angel rest stop. The Angel marks, these are often mistaken for gang graffiti, are entrance codes.

Our winged pals after going about their appointed tasks often get stoned, eat red meat, and have hot greasy sex in these places. This accounts for all the screaming, yelling, loud music, and beer bottles that so often fly out "abandoned" Tribeca warehouses.

More to come.

(Click on pix for full heavenly effect.)

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Wednesday, January 21, 2009


I've been to the mountain.
I've climbed the heights.
I've stood at the peak,
And I've looked through the gates.
And I've seen the glory of the Lord.
And I've seen the fullness of joy.
And my eyes have looked upon His peace,
and the brotherhood of love,
and the clasping hands of many colors,
and the hugs of ancient enemies.
I've heard the voices one in praise,
the songs and hallelujas ringing,
the songs in which sour notes never sound,
and beauty thrilled my soul.
I stood in the clouds of fragrance.
I basked in the everlasting light.
I've been to the mountain.
I've been to the mountain.
I know the way it all ends.
I've been to the mountain.
But I'm not on the mountain,
That's not where I stand.
That's not where I walk.
That's not what's around us.
I walk in the valley.
I walk in the darkness.
I walk in the shadow of death,
and I see the darkness,
and I see the anger,
and I see the fighting,
and I hear the cries of the wounded,
and the moans of the hungry,
and the wails of the mourning,
and the songs that shriek despair,
the bondage of a sinful world,
the bondage of a selfish world,
the bondage of a false and destroying freedom,,
of the greed of the rich,
of the covetousness of the poor,
of the scorn of oppressors,
of the rage of the oppressed.
I've been to the mountain.
I walk in the valley.
I've seen the promised land,
I have not entered in.
But there is hope.
There is peace to be found.
There is joy to be reached.
And there is love.
There's a long road to walk.
There's hard work to do.
But the Master's calling.
I'm going
I've been to the mountain.
I'm going back.
Let us climb. ed pacht

(Dr. Martin Luther King, and Rosa Parks above)

(A New World is Born.)

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

"America Elects Batman"

Granted this Obama guy ain't the messiah. However maybe, just maybe he's Batman! I sure as hell hope so. We need a crazy Black guy running around kicking much butt! The last at long last shall be first, and them scumbags that is always first is gonna be last!

Well alright that won't happen either, but interesting shit is in the pipeline for sure. I think I'll stick around after all just to see what happens next.

I wonder who'll play Obama in the film version of all this. I'd like Brad Pitt, but ya know how it is.

Monday, January 19, 2009

"Bad Dog!"

Okay, okay this is tad out of my character. ...kind'a Hey I'm dealing with my rage. So cut me some slack on this. I'll go back to sweetie pie, funny ironic stuff when I chill out.

"Chicken Fight!"


Saturday, January 17, 2009


President-elect Barack Obama looks to President Abraham Lincoln for his inspiration, so it's only fitting that the president-elect would retrace Lincoln's 1861 trip from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, to Washington, D.C., to assume the presidency.
President-elect Barack Obama's inaugural train ride replicates his hero Abraham Lincoln's.

The train will take its first "slow roll" in Claymont, Delaware, meaning the president-elect will wave at residents gathered near the tracks. Claymont is also the town where Vice President-elect Joe Biden's family moved in 1953 when he was 10 years old.

The train will pick up Biden and his family in Wilmington, Delaware. Obama and Biden are also expected to make brief speeches before departing again.

The next "slow roll" is expected to be in Edgewood, Maryland, 25 miles northeast of Baltimore, Maryland.

The tour then stops in Baltimore before reaching its final destination: Washington.


So like zillions of others I'm watching the train slowly make it's way to D.C. Bless my soul I've lived to see these days. Many of us will be bearing witness for those that didn't get this far. We'll remember them, and witness on their behalf.

My Mom, and dad, Grandma all my family now gone that suffered so much in this country because of mere skin color.

I don't know what's going to happen next. We as a nation are in new territory, new land marks will be made, new worlds discovered.

Change we can believe in?


Friday, January 16, 2009

"Watch the Skies!"

More, and more regular people are seeing them. It is nolonger a rumor to be dismissed with a laugh. They appear out of nowhere! Slowly they drift across the quiet sky baffling all who see them. Despite government lies they are here.

Teddy Bears! They sail the skies of the world. They look down upon us like the Greek G-d's of old. Who knows what strange plans they have for humanity. Why are they here, what do they want? Most worrying of all,..what do they eat?!

"Oh Boy! Cocaine!"

This useless swill tastes like peppered bleach, and bubblegum. You don't even get off,..well not exactly. You just walk in circles sweating, and tearing up pieces of paper into tiny bits.

Gang if you wanna do cocaine just go out, and get some Co-fuck'n-Caine. No big deal. The broadcast, and recording business used to run on a loose mixture of coke, speed, coffee, and pizza. Hey I know what I'm talking about here okay.

A note to the youngsters out there,...ahem.

Cocaine, and other serious drugs Will Kill You.


It's only dumb stupid, fucking luck I ain't croaked or doing time. But Man! It was a blast, I loved it,..but it will probably kill ya ass. So lay off. Stay away from booze too.

If ya needs to get "Zapped" smoke dope instead. It's good for you.

Nuff said.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

"Would I Lie to You?"

Honesty is the best policy. Certainly it's the easiest policy. Saying it's better is a "moral" judgment that has no place in these secular times. But what the hell,..let's say honesty is a "good" long term,..nondenominational, policy.

It's main virtue is that it's easier.

You don't have to remember anything. Not nothing ya home free. Now of course lying or dishonesty is an excellent short term strategy. I stress "short term" for it's main virtue,..immediate usefulness, is also it's main weakness.

Sure lying through ya teeth will get ya out of a jam okay, but there's the inevitable liabilities attached.

Lies no matter how inventive or subtle work only in the immediate short term. After that they need constant maintenance.

Indeed the more complex or interesting the lie the 'more' maintenance it will need. If you engage serial lying you'll have some serious shit cut out for you.

You'll have to remember many people, times, places, and incidents. You'll have to keep all these often conflicting elements updated, and perfectly matched on a regular basis.

I mean com'on a special "negative reality" program will be required to manage your personal or business agenda. '...and need I point out that servicing a "Lying Bastard" file on any electronic information retrieval system is just asking for trouble!

Now with "honesty" or a reasonable level of honesty. I mean gimme a break absolute honesty will just get ya slapped in the face!

However with "general" honesty things are dramatically simpler. There's no need or hardly any need for data storage.

You can forget just about everything you've ever said or done. A blessing as many of us are getting on in years, and can't remember shit anyhow.

So to sum up, managing lies is just too damned much work, and nobody will thank you for it neither! Honesty 'is' the best policy!

See 'turns out our Grandma was right all along!

(Above is a snapshot of Obama's new House in 1842. Below is when the British burned it in 1812.)

"Baptised with Lightning"

I was walking around outside tonight, and saw two shooting stars! The skies over New York City are usually hazy, and the lights wash out most of the stars, and planets. Sometimes though there's a window. A break in the wash of industrial static that hides the Universe from us.

Well tonight the sky blinked for a moment, and I saw the stars. Imagine if we could see them all the time here in this vast machine we live in. Just look up, and there would be Eternity.

I was thinking,...what would it be like if you fell into the sky. You're just living your life, going to this place, and that. But all the while there's the "Sea of Eternity" above you. Have you ever thought of that, eternity right above us.

Sometimes I look up, and there it is,...forever, and forever. Tomorrow, and tomorrow. There above the tree limbs, beyond the clouds. The sky,, orange or red, and then the night. The deep black night.

Forever, and forever.

Falling, I think of falling into the sky.

Falling into eternity.

One foot in front of the other.

One step then another.


Falling into Heaven.

I wrote'n posted this years ago somewhere. It's one of my favorite old new age bullshit pieces.

"The Art of Radio"

(Uncle Sidney in his ironic disguise of a famous Russian comedian explains the subtle nuances of radio art to attentive workers)

"Dear Beloved Uncle" made a surprise visit to a workers collective today. Uncle just loves surprises. Beloved Uncle took it upon himself to visit the peoples administrative, sub-directorate office of the Volga shoehorn factory No. 12.

All of the comrad administrators were in awe of the wit, and charm of Dear Uncle, and his off the cuff presentation. Uncle warmed to his favorite subject, and waxed poetic on the spiritual nature of a well written, and performed station break.

He then shared several hours of anecdotes about his broadcast adventures with the transfixed comrads. Most touching was his impromptu re-enactment of his dear friend *Simon Loekle's on air reading of Puskin while having just snorted ten grams of cocaine followed by five bottles of Ripple.

*(...noted New York poet, broadcaster, and old pal.)

(An astounded "Beloved Uncle Sidney", and some middle level Party officials witness "Good Comrad Loekle's" amazing performance while under the influence of enough dope, and booze to kill ten Cossacks!!)

Angels wept silver pearls at the beauty of that long ago performance. As the sun set behind Shoehorn factory No.12 our Dear Uncle informed the gathered comrads it was time for him to go. The workers protested, and fell to their knees begging him for just one more dope story. However our most stalwart Uncle mildly chastised them saying that it was time for them to go back to work. Because "Socialism needed them!"

With that our ever thoughtful, and kindly Uncle got on his old bike, and peddled his way back to the Kremlin. There to write more lovely stories about teenaged homosexual Angels that fight for the rights of the oppressed!

Alright this one, which is also from one of my older blogs, is an inside joke for listeners to that commie radio station I work for. Also for my fellow staffers. Esp. that bit about the booze'n dope. Show Biz, I loves it.)


I have the urge to go on an "working class crime spree!" The kind ya see on "Cops", and those other "wife beater" shows. Btw, I'll take my favorite barbie dolls with me. How I loves them. Anyway I figure I'll steal a 1966 Ford pickup from some trailer park somewhere.

Then I'll go down to the mini-mall, and rob the liquor store, the 7-11, bust open the "atm" at the gas station, and knock over the "Holy Jeebus Chapel of the Love" for the change in the poor box.

Which is the whole point, the change not the Chapel. Forgive me Jeebus. I'll be need'n them coins for the tolls on the highway. On which the drama of my two state high speed chase will be played out.

With my elbow hang'n out the window I'll be sucking down brews, and careening along gawds interstate at 90 miles an hour.


I'll be weave'n left'n right, raise'n sparks on the guard rails as the highway patrols from two seedy "flyover states" is on my tail. The pinball lights on their roofs going nuts, and their sirens wailing away!

Man that's live'n!

Oh the freedom of the road! Blasting along in an old Ford pickup getting 5 miles to da gallon, and laying down a smoke screen of atomized dinosaurs. Hey they don't calls it "fossil" fuel for nuthin'!

Aw man, drink'n, break'n laws, and being chased by cops! Life is Good!

'Course after a few hours of this happy mayhem the boys'n gals in blue get's fed up with me, and decides to shoot out my tires. They do, but it don't matter 'cause I'm in a tuff old ford, and I rides her steel alloy rims for another 80 miles!

I'm gleefully flying along at a 120 leaving a fiery hale of crimson sparks behind me'n having the time of my life!

Finally they calls the rustbelt state police, and 'they' lays out them explosive spikes that shorts out your engine, and blow off ya wheels. Btw, the Iraqi's uses the same shit on our humvees, and trucks over in the war.

Anyhow as is the traditional with these things the lower half of the truck is blown away, and I slams grille first into a lamp post.

The pickup flips over tumble'n three, four times spraying a rainbow haze of bright burning gasoline as she goes.

Wow! ...just like on tv.

I jumps out with just a few bruises, and scratches. See both the Ford, and me is old timers, and can take the punishment!

(Actually these gals with guns don't have anything to do with the story exactly. Sure I could work them in, but I'm too lazy. I just like gals with guns is all, well okay I likes boys too. You can link over to my other blog "Bleeding Queers" if ya likes that sort of thing too,..ahem)

(Yup! Gals with Guns! They're the Nightmare of all them that stones Women, and hangs Gay's! Fuck you Osama, and ya evil pals!! These sweethearts is the friends of all Women in distress, and Gay boys being bashed! I just loves Gals with Big Frigg'n Guns!)

Now back to our swell story which is waiting patiently for you below.


Herein begins the best part of our drama.

"The Perp Chase!"

Yeah ya old Unk is beating it through the bushes like a bat out'a hell! Thanks to the News choppers I gots a t.v. audience now that's cheering me on.

Downsized factory workers, and laid off interior designers is handing me beers, and butter crescents as I sprint through their backyards, and over fences.

Kid's toss me candy bars, dogs bark, and old folks that remembers the golden 1950's, and full employment wave, and blows me kisses!

However it all ends as it usually does when I'm trapped in a dead end behind a bankrupted furniture factory. I'm cornered by a bunch a pissed off cops, and troopers.

They gleefully kicks the shit out'a me for an hour or so 'cause I interrupted their other 'important' business.

Which was shaking down junkies, shooting unarmed Black kids, and getting free blowjobs at various mob-run lapdance clubs.

When I'm finally hauled in the Heat sez my grievous injuries was from the crash.

Naturally I agrees with them, after all I don't want to be "suicided" in my cell after lights out.

Involuntary "suicide" is a serious health hazzard in most local holds as we all know. Btw my Barbie dolls was released 'cause they was minors.

Well that's my "Working Class Hero" fantasy thanks for putting up with it.

"The 14 Points"


...okay I don't know how many there really are, but ya know.

(Dear Beloved Uncle Sidney is seen here in his favorite disguise)

"If everyone could change gender, color, orientation, and hat size at will there'd be a lot less bullshit in the world!"

"If you're in a burning theatre, leave."

"Clocks don't kill people, jobs do!"

"Never go into the water."

"There are sharks out there, and they will eat you."

"If you see someone all alone, cold, hungry, and wandering the streets after midnight report them at once for curfew violation!"

"Never step on a crack for it is possible your mother's back could at some time in the future be greviously injured, and thereby be an unnecessary drain on the Peoples Medical Infrastructure."

"Always be nice to cats"

(Dear Beloved Uncle's Kat)

"Do not sing in the rain!" "For such is a petty bourgeois, and western decadent Hollywood waste of the peoples time"

"Do not cut off any of your ears!" "Believe me it's a bad idea!"

"Copyright everything!"

"Take narcotics, moderation"

"Never, never eat cod fish."

"Pornography is good,...mostly."

"Pissing blood is never a good sign."

"Don't speak to dogs for they are the pawns of Satan."

"Drink heavily, and sleep till dawn."

"If George Bush should comes to your house, and asks you if it would be alright if he continued the war, and drove the country several $trillions$ 'more' into debt."

"Say no."

"Paint crows, wheat fields, and yourself as often as possible"

More to come...

"Instant Shack"

Above is a "cute" remake of the Katrina FEMA trailers. I think we're going to be seeing a lot of these "re-makes" as the new Depression starts to really take hold. This because of so many losing their homes.

"Obamaville's" I guess they'll call them.

I don't know if this is what I'd want as my new digs, but it may be all that's available for the downsized American masses.

At least outside of the cities.

Although I could see bunches of these spring up in urban vacant lots, and car parks as instant slums.

On the other hand these things do have possibilities. Tiny homes that use very little power or are self solar powered are seriously good ideas. As I mention in an earlier post I'd eventually like to build one of these,..more likely buy one.

(Yeah I do plan to get my life back.)

These are the perfect habitat for hermit artists, cultural perverts, and or crank editorialists. All of which past times describes me well.

"I keep seeing this Guy"

I keep seeing this Guy walk'n around. I dunno, he just keeps turning up.

"On the Other Hand"

CHICAGO—While a majority of the nation's top retailers have reported a decided slump in 2008, economists studying the declining consumer markets are still unable to determine if discount clothing store T.J. Maxx has been affected by widespread recession.

Financial analysts, observing more than 100 locations nationwide, cited large quantities of off-brand and wildly scattered merchandise as evidence that T.J. Maxx has either been devastated by the economic downturn, or is carrying on as usual in spite of it.

"The state of this store does not in any way correspond to our standard criteria for judging long-term viability," said economist Graham Stinson, referring to Chicago's Fullerton Avenue branch, where more than half of the fluorescent lights are burnt out. "For instance, the canvas bins heaped with broken stemware in aisle six may be a sign that T.J. Maxx is on the verge of complete bankruptcy. Either that, or it's doing perfectly fine. It's impossible to say which."

Further evidence of T.J. Maxx's imminent foreclosure or, possibly, its wholly unaffected condition, included reports of shoppers rummaging through barrels of lamps up to their shoulders, multiple sightings of bras stuffed into children's shoes, the impromptu sale of in-store display cases for cash, and an excess of golf-based giftware.

Although economists were able to make firsthand observations of customers rifling through overturned clothing racks, their requests to analyze the company's financial records were met with confusion. Stinson and his team were eventually provided with a water-stained folder of handwritten receipts, but failed to make use of most of the data due to its ripped, soiled, and often indecipherable state.

Compiled interviews with customers also provided little insight. Many reported seeing "Cash Only, No Refunds" signs posted in every store and recalled having to climb over sacks of winter coats to reach clearance bins of mix-and-match earrings, leading economists to believe that the discount chain may be suffering after all.

"They must be doing really badly if they're selling this crap really cheap," said Lake Forest, IL resident Brian Crowe, carrying an armful of L.A. Gear sneakers to his car. "You've got to take advantage before this place shuts its doors for good."

Others, however, see T.J. Maxx poised to have a very lucrative year in 2009.

"That place must be doing pretty well," frequent customer Mark Rankin said. "I just saw some guy walking around with an armful of L.A. Gear sneakers."

With only one checkout lane remaining in most stores, some financial experts speculate that the retailer can no longer afford to employ workers. A two-week study of a Cleveland-area location did, however, turn up some minor evidence of a workforce, including the sighting of three folded shirts and a number of individuals smoking and playing Uno in the break room.

"Our analysis of T.J. Maxx's workforce was inconclusive, as we were never totally sure anyone was actually employed there," economist Libby Archer said. "Although, I suppose the lack of a distinct uniform could be a sign that they're doing well enough to move to a more upscale, boutique-type image for the store. That woman I saw drop a load of 20 sweaters onto a table of hats might have been the lead salesgirl."

"She did tell me to get the fuck out of her way," Archer added.

Economists were, however, able to locate a single store manager after months of searching. James Boucher, who runs the domestic department of the Smyrna, GA location, was found weeping in the middle of a sock aisle and was unable to comment on the store's current financial status—a sign that may suggest the overall mood at T.J. Maxx is more dire than previously thought.

"Oh, Jim is crying all the time," said possible coworker Anita Rouse. "He's been breaking down in tears once a day since he started here nine years ago."

(...from, where your dear Uncle gets all his Newz.)

Tuesday, January 13, 2009


Something is happening to me I don't like.

I'm getting mean. Not angry. I've not been angry through 'all' this.

However there's now a seed of meanness in me that was never there before.

I'm also re-thinking the virtue of kindness. It too often is double edged with an exit wound that profoundly stings.

When I'm back on my feet I fear I'll be withdrawn, cynical, ungenerous, coldly cautious.


This may be the lasting monument to these harsh months.

Monday, January 12, 2009

"On the Road"

As happens when one is in this delicate state,...houseless. You have to keep moving as to not out-stay your welcome. Also as some of you may know, and I am discovering "welcome" is relative.

People even those that were your friends before you fell into the gutter will 'rethink' their kindness, and generosity after a day of two, and toss you out. So I'm on the street for a few days again. I'm posting from my job,..which thank the g-ddess I still have. ...mostly.

Actually I only accepted that last "kindness" because it was so cold,...I took a risk. ...snake eyes.

If you must be homeless do it in spring or summer. It's bitterly cold. Astoundingly Cold. Can't say more since that sums up the whole thing. Even so I'm more fortunate than my sister, and brother homeless around me. I still have options,..though fading ones.

(U.S.S.Yorktown after a really bad day)

I ain't sunk, but the pumps were all built by the lowest bidder. Anyway despite setbacks It's very likely I'll have digs before the end of winter. It's slowly coming together. Till then life is one horrifying drag after another. However the more awful it gets more interesting my one man show/play about this will be.

"Most of the facts of this performance are guaranteed to be mostly true!"

Yeah I'm planning a short play about the last year or so of my adventures in this land of family betrayal, dispossession, humiliation, and urban horrors. They'll be magic acts, puppets, media stuff, jokes, living nightmares, and thrilling sermons.

Not only that everybody in the audience gets a prize,...regardless if they want one or not.

Don't miss it!

Sunday, January 11, 2009

"Robot Joy'

Okay I'm over doing it with my little pal here. I've alot on my plate just now so it's easy to get distracted with silly sweet stuff. Infact the world would be a lot better off if we all did silly sweet stuff like feeding the hungry, and being kind to insufferable jerks, and other impossible things.

Oh dear, I'm edging into one of my bleek moods,..time for my meds. Thank the g-ddess I still have my insurance. For how much longer who knows, but I'm riding that train to the last stop.

Land of the Free indeed.


" Light"

home made sfx.

take one piece of broken glass, hold it up to a light source, and reflect it onto a white sheet of paper.

the sheet can be curved or folded as needed for various effects.

"Uncle Walt'n Obama"