Sunday, February 22, 2015

The Winter Of Our Dissed Continent

A few years ago, I got some (bad) advice from a friend on a stock to buy.  I don't at all pretend to know anything about the stock market, but I figured, "what the hell;"  the stock was trading at about a buck a share, and my friend said it had a huge upside, as it was a drug for melanoma, and that's gonna do nothing but increase as time goes by, so the stock had to go up, right?  My broker guy laughed at me and said "sure, we can buy it, but you have to understand that something like that is really no different from going to Foxwoods" and putting some money on "red," or playing blackjack without Ben Affleck's card-counting skill, or something.  I took a flyer, at my friend's urging.  By the time I bought, it was up to almost three dollars.  Soon after, it went to over six bucks; the smart investor sells then, having doubled his money, and looks for something else, right?   I held, just knowing that it was gonna go through the roof--and it did.

If the roof was in a subway tunnel.  The stock immediately plunged, and is now trading in the 80 cent range; I still own some, and out of fondness and bemusement I periodically check on line to see how it's doing.  It's not doing well, going up a few cents and then down a few, stubbornly holding its place at 80-something cents.  And good for it, I say: we all should know our station in life, and not be ashamed of it.  Some of us are Xerox or Apple, some of us are Provectus, and it takes all kinds to make up this crazy old stock market world.

The other day, though, when I was checking it just for a laugh--and because I'm not making money from anything else these days, so I hold out hope from pretty much any quarter, or penny--I noticed one of the columns and columnists featured in the sidebar section.  Now this is a financial space, remember, so it's not given to featuring or playing to wild-eyed Leftys like me.  But this guy named Paul Farrell, who I assume is an economist of some sort, had a piece about how humans' activities have led to, as he put "Earth sinking," and us with no way to save it.  In the piece he excoriated Big Oil and The Koch Bros.--as you know, favorite whipping boys of mine--and basically gave credence to what 99% of scientists know, and that we all should believe, but don't.

"This is really cool," I thought (may have even ejaculated it, but that's another story); maybe there's a glimmer of hope after all.  Then I made the mistake of scrolling down to read the responses to Mr. Farrell's column.  If you've ever followed a trail ("thread," I think the kids call it) of responses to certain Internet stuff--not mine, obviously; who reads or comments on that shit?--then you've seen what happens.  People crawl out from under rocks, from the slime, fossils reconstitute themselves to weigh in and let the writer know just what a flaming, idiotic asshole he is for promulgating such ideas.  In this case, the most frequently repeated "fact" was that CO2 is not at all harmful and thus has no effect on Climate Change, or the warming of our frail planet ("frail" because of our assaults, not because of its own properties); any idiot, a number of first responders said, knows that it's not carbon that controls Earth's temperature.  "It's the sun, stupid."  That's a quote from a couple of these geniuses.

So, okay, the sun is just a giant thermostat floating in the sky, orbiting us periodically.  Oh, come on, you think these assholes know that we orbit it?  So who's controlling it, turning it up or down on, apparently, whimsical and capricious impulse?  Is it God?  If so, what a Prick: why would a deity do that shit?  Maybe it's Satan--yeah, that's it, Satan.  Well, Dante notwithstanding (if you get low enough), we know He likes it Hot.  Why then would he have dicked around with it, instead of just pegging it at "Max" and calling it good?  Probably 'cause those damned Liberals made him, and that must mean that They have the goods on The Prince Of Darkness, know where his bodies are buried, and thus can control him like a marionette.

Well, anyway, before I spiral totally out of control--and, yes, I could keep going, friends--let's get back to the fact that there are some songs, some music, to get between us and this horrible winter, whatever the cause (which climatologists have been warning us of for years), and to make life more bearable by their very existence (antecedent, Mark?).  Music is our salvation, and here are a bunch of "sun" songs to get us through this next stretch:

Ain't No Sunshine                                                                Rahsaan Roland Kirk
All Around the Sun and the Moon                                       Joy Of Cooking
Although The Sun Is Shining                                               Fleetwood Mac
As Long As The Sun                                                            Bill Morrissey
Big Red Sun Blues                                                               Lucinda Williams
Blame It On The Sun                                                           Stevie Wonder
Blister In The Sun                                                                Violent Femmes
Black Hole Sun                                                                    Paul Anka (fuck you, Soundgarden)
California Sun                                                                      The Ramones
Colors Of The Sun                                                               Jackson Browne
Don't Let The Sun catch You Cryin'                                    Dr. John
Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me                                   Joe Cocker
First Day Of The Sun                                                          Darden Smith
Get In The Sun                                                                     Joan Armatrading
Good Day Sunshine                                                             Fabs
Sun Loves Moon                                                                  Nick Robertson
Sunlight                                                                                The Youngbloods
Good Day Sunshine                                                              Souvlaki
Happier Than The Morning Sun                                          Stevie Wonder
He Likes The Sun                                                                 Tanita Tikaram
Hello Sunshine                                                                      Aretha Franklin
Here Comes Sunshine                                                          Grateful Dead
Here Comes The Sun/ The Inner Light                                Fabs
Hunters Of The Sun                                                              John Stewart
I'll Follow The Sun                                                               Fabs
Lost Her In The Sun                                                             John Stewart
Lucky Old Sun                                                                     John Stewart
Miss Sun                                                                              Boz Scaggs
Morning Sun                                                                        Jesse Colin Young
Sitting In The Midday Sun                                                   The Kinks
Sun King                                                                               Fabs

So, anyway, all my life I've been accused of  being cynical, acidulous, acerbic, and bilious.  Yet listen to the songs: they're "full of moon" (cf Joni Mitchell, "The Last Time I Saw Richard").  Anyway, see ya Tuesday, noon till two, on WOOL.FM, or wool.fm on the webs.  And I haven't harangued you for a while:  If you're reading this, become a member.  Brilliance--or mediocrity--doesn't come free, you know.



Monday, February 16, 2015

"Blow Up Yer TV..."

When I was a carefree lad in collitch in 1971, one of the posters I had on my dorm room wall depicted a creepy little man wearing filthy coveralls, face pressed up against the window which the poster was made to look like, apparently peering into the room.  He looked a little like Michael-J.-Pollard-as-Charlie-Manson, if you can picture that.  I thought the poster was hilarious, although it looked just real enough to be pretty creepy.

See, once upon a time, that was the only sort of invasion of privacy we really had to fear: the occasional Peeping Tom.  It was often just kids being kids, but even when it wasn't it was still more or less harmless.  Sure, it could be unsettling, could maybe even get you chased by an angry homeowner or the cops.  But there was no real danger to one's person, or one's identity or personal information.

Then, humans being oh-so-clever and inventive, we began to invent new ways to poke and probe into each other's lives, to violate the heretofore sacrosanct right to privacy.  Among the innovations were "bugs," tiny microphones which could be easily hidden in a room and enabled someone some distance away to listen in on whatever conversations occurred in that room, and wiretaps, devices placed inside phone receivers to allow conversations to be listened to and even taped, unbeknownst to the caller.  Because individual voices mattered back then, there was at least an attempt to regulate and control the use of these devices, to preserve one's right to some semblance of privacy.

Over time, of course, we came up with ever more sophisticated devices and means to gather information on and from unsuspecting citizens.  There were remote listening devices, which looked something like hand-held satellite dishes, and gathered sound into an antenna to be recorded without need of even placing a device in someone's home.  Things got really good with the advent of cellular communications, of course, wherein any fairly sophisticated electrono-geek could know where anyone using a cellphone or computer was at any given time, and of course we now know that the NSA has been collecting data at will from all of us.  If you own an electronic device, you basically can't hide from anyone with the knowledge and technology--and desire--to find you.  I heard David Ignatius, columnist for The Washington Post, and thriller novel writer, speak a few years ago.  He said that at any meeting of anyone anything near covert, people would not just turn off their cellphones, as they could still be traced then, but would remove the battery.

Now comes word that so-called "smart" TVs are listening to us.  Samsung recently issued a warning to customers to be careful about what they say in front of their smart TVs when using the "voice activation" feature.  Seems that, when that feature is activated, the TV can "listen" to what is being said.  "If your spoken words include personal or other sensitive information, that information will be among the data captured and transmitted to a third party," says Samsung (italics mine).  The language itself is chilling enough, I think: "captured" and "transmitted;"  cold, clinical and possessive, and distributable.  But the fact that Samsung won't reveal the identity of the "third party," or what that party might do with the data which will be collected is what I find freakiest.  Privacy is gone, friends, like the other dinosaurs a victim of a collision with a heretofore unknown or unforeseen body.

Unless you're smart enough to stay away from all the gadgetry.  I have a friend named Dave--no, not you, Dave--who refuses to have a computer, and so never gets these delightful missives from me.  I don't know if he has a cellphone, although I doubt it.  It's easy to see him as a paranoid or a Luddite, but it's folks like him who stay under the radar as much as it's possible to, today.  He may be one of the ones who can elude The Man longer than the rest of us.  Ridiculous, you say?  Total paranoia?  Let's hope so.  "Orwellian" is an oft-used, and oft-misused, term, but jeez, it becomes increasingly difficult to ignore its truth.  On the up side, maybe we'll make the planet uninhabitable even to the 'bots who'll inherit it.

Some tunes to enjoy, then, from that scientific/technological morass and the stuff we've been enduring climatologically here in New England.  Here they be:

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised                                       Gil Scott-Heron
Kicking Television                                                                      Wilco
Television Man                                                                            Talking Heads
Marquee Moon                                                                            Television
Antichrist Television Blues                                                          Arcade Fire
Television Eye                                                                             John Mayall
What Happened To TV?                                                              The Greyboy Allstars
Stuff You Gotta Watch                                                                 Muddy Waters
Watch Your Step                                                                          Elvis Costello
Watch Your Step                                                                          Cold Blood
You Better Watch Yourself                                                          Dion
Night Watch                                                                                Fleetwood Mac
Voices Carry                                                                                'Til Tuesday
Hush Hush                                                                                   Big Bill Broonzy
Honey Hush                                                                                 Roomful Of Blues
Hush                                                                                             Joy Of Cooking
Hush                                                                                             Deep Purple
Hush                                                                                             Toni Childs
Spanish Pipedream                                                                       John Prine
The Spy                                                                                         The Doors
Roam And Spy                                                                              Steve Tibbetts
All Your Secrets                                                                           Yo La Tengo
(We Have) No Secrets                                                                  Carly Simon
Secrets                                                                                           Bobby Womack

See ya Tuesday from noon till two, 91.5 FM, wool.fm.

And remember: "We can't talk here...."

Monday, February 9, 2015

No Needle, And The Damage Done

Two weeks in a row now I've been able to make reference to that Neil Young song: last week it was in regard to so-called Deflategate, that cataclysmic event which threatened the very fabric of our society, i.e. the National Football League.  This time it's about something a little more serious, seriously:  the Anti-Vaccination League.

It's hard to believe that we even need to have a discussion in 2015 about the efficacy of and crucial need for vaccinations.  And yet I'm sure you've read or heard recently about an outbreak of measles which began in Disneyland, of all places.  Maybe it was in "Yesterdayland."  Turns out that SoCal is an area ripe for such a thing, as it is a hotbed of the "vaccinations are bad" school of parenting.  People who grew up being vaccinated as a matter of course, and thus were protected from a wide range of illnesses, crippling and life-threatening viruses like polio, like measles, rubella, diphtheria, mumps, whooping cough and many others have decided that their children, for some reason, don't need the same protections.  Their "reasoning" verges on the unexplainable, if not outright child abuse, to me.

Some of the fears around vaccination may have originated with Jenny McCarthy, MD, PhD, and Playmate of the Year (only one of those titles is real; can you guess which?), who claimed that vaccines caused autism, a claim that has since been debunked by essentially the entire medical community.  Another propagator of anti-vaccine nonsense was former Representative and Republican Presidential candidate Michele Bachmann (R-Idiocy), who claimed that the vaccine for HPV caused mental retardation.  Among other things, Ms. Bachmann also said that Melissa Etheridge's cancer was caused by her lesbianism, that carbon dioxide is harmless, and that scientists support the concept of Intelligent Design.  She, herself, was standing behind the door making up stupid assertions the day the intelligence part was handed out.  These are clear instances of Bachmann Turning Overwrought.

It's easy to dismiss people like McCarthy and Bachmann because they're ill-educated, ignorant idiots.  But recently, as the Never-Ending Presidential Campaign began to return from dormancy, some from the ASP (Anti-Science Party) began to crank up the vaccine-is-evil rhetoric again.  Chris Christie and Rand Paul (who is, in fact, a real MD, albeit an ophthalmologist, not an epidemiologist, and who still can't read the writing on the wall) spoke to the issue, both advocating parental freedom in choosing whether or not their kids were vaccinated.  So my kids, and your kids, and every other responsible parent's kids should be put at risk because some few misguided, at best, parents choose not to?  Does that make them Pro-Choice?  Just askin'.

The amazing thing is that those statements were even too much for John Boehner and Mitch McConnell to tolerate, and they, along with many other Repugnicant so-called leaders repudiated them.  Hokey Smokes, Bullwinkle: Some small evidence that Repugs don't universally reject science across-the-board!  Some good can come out of any situation, apparently, although Boehner said, while lighting his 33rd cigarette of the day, that "I don't know that we need another law" about the issue, and McConnell described himself as "a big fan" of vaccinations.  Man, that's some pretty strong stuff, huh?  Can'tcha just see him on the sidelines at a clinic, pleated skirt and pompoms aflutter, leading the "Give me a 'V,' gimme an 'A', gimme a 'C'," etc., cheer?  My heart does cartwheels.

This crazy old world just keeps gettin' crazier and crazier.  Thank god for music, and for these songs in particular this week:


Soul Vaccination                                                                          Tower Of Power
The Needle And The Damage Done                                            Neil Young
The Needle And The Spoon                                                         Lynyrd Skynrd
The Needle Has Landed                                                               Neko Case
Needles and Pins                                                                          The Ramones
Pushing The Needle Too far                                                         Indigo Girls
Silver Threads And Golden Needles                                            Linda Ronstadt
Stick A Needle In My Eye                                                            John Prine
Disease                                                                                          Katy Sullivan
Disease Of Conceit                                                                       Dylan
Down With Disease                                                                      Phish
Industrial Disease                                                                         Dire Straits
Social Disease                                                                              Elton John
Science                                                                                         Tanita Tikaram
Political Science                                                                           Randy Newman
She Blinded Me With Science                                                     Thomas Dolby
Risky Business                                                                             John Abercrombie
The Risk                                                                                       Warren Zevon
Bad Risk                                                                                       Sly & The Family Stone
As A Matter Of Fact                                                                     Dirk Hamilton
The Facts Of Life                                                                          Talking Heads
The Natural Facts                                                                          Sister Rosetta Tharpe
The Rumor                                                                                    The Band
Rumors                                                                                          Josh Ritter
(Someone's Been) Telling You Stories                                          Dan Fogelberg
Lives In The Balance                                                                     Jackson Browne
Idiot Wind                                                                                      Dylan

See ya Tuesday, then, from noon til two on WOOL FM, 91.5, or wool.fm on the webs, the best little radio station goin'.  Meantime, don't do anything rash.

For a much better view on this business, by a real writer, check out Katie Burns's column in The Concord Monitor from this past Sunday, February 8.  I think you'll see why I have an affinity for her work.

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Who Let The Air Out....

...of our sanity?

On Thursday, Jan. 22, in the Year Of Our Lord 2015, these things happened, among many others: Senate Republicans sought to stop an investigation into CIA torture in Gitmo; a pipeline in North Dakota leaked 3 million barrels of salt water, apparently a by-product of oil drilling there, at a time when Senate Republicans are pushing hard to force the opening of the Keystone XL pipeline; 49 Senate Republicans refused to acknowledge the existence of man-made climate change; two Japanese prisoners were threatened with beheading by ISIS (and have since been killed); it was the 5th anniversary of the Supreme Court's worst ruling (so far), Citizens United. The Koch Brothers (remember when we were talking about The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers?) have recently said that they intend to spend 1 Billion (yes, that's with a "B") dollars to try to buy the next president.  I feel like we're just playing out the string: how about you?

It was also, interestingly, the anniversary of one of the Court's best rulings, Roe v. Wade, made during more enlightened times.  And as usually happens on that day, along with the usual anti-abortion rallies held in Washington, the new Republican majorities tried to flex their conservative, punitive muscles and pass stricter anti-women's-rights laws, limiting abortion rights further.  The law they wanted to pass in this case, in contrast to the usual symbolic stuff, actually would have put tighter restrictions on abortions.  The white men in charge were forced to scuttle that plan, though, because enough Republican women legislators (or, as the Republicans call them, "Legislatresses") said they wouldn't vote for such a bill as it was too restrictive, anti-woman and, worst of all would look bad to millenials and anyone else with a brain, who then would be unlikely to vote for the Rs.

My favorite quote from this fiasco comes from Tony Perkins (no, not that one--he daid, although I think we could use him to put a hatchet through somebody's head right about now--maybe even mine), the head of the conservative Family Research Council who said that there were "a lot of misconceptions" about the bill.  Words are meaningless, I guess....  That came after Perkins met with Rep. Steven Scalise of Louisiana, who was recently in the news because it turns out he's spoken to David Duke-led white supremacist groups at fund-raisers.  But my digressions digress:  you go, Republicanettes.  Imagine: putting what's right above what's partisan.  You just never know what a woman's gonna do, huh?

So, anyway, all that stuff happened, and obviously much more, as or more important.  But what was the big story of the day, of the week, the thing that led not just local but national news, for chrissakes?  The waggishly-named "Deflategate."  A "story" about the amount of air in some footballs used in a playoff game.  Reporters fell all over themselves to cover the press conferences held by Dr. Evil and Maxi-Me, Bill Belichick and Tom Brady.  Press conferences about air.  Not the worsening air that we're all breathing, the heated air that's gonna change life on Earth forever, but the air inside--or not-- some footballs.  And as the "story" has continued, various and sundry have weighed in on it, from MIT professors to Bill Nye, The Science Guy (who is unabashedly rooting for the Seahawks; there's your scientific impartiality).  Belichick even had a second news conference in which he laid out his new-found scientific learnin', although any Right-thinking person knows that science is bad.  Thank goodness we have our priorities Right, and how fortunate are we to have the worst problem facing us revolve around a game, albeit The Most Important Game Ever.  Dr. Pangloss would rejoice, for we truly must be living in the best of all possible worlds.

So for this week's radio show, although it'll be somewhat anticlimactic (not anticlimatic, like the Koch-swilling GOP) coming post Super Bowl XLAX, or whatever, I'm playing pressure songs, ball songs, squeeze songs, and Mel and Tim's wonderful and overlooked soul classic "Backfield In Motion."  The playbook for the week looks like this, then:

Got Me Under Pressure                                                           ZZ Top
Heavy Pressure                                                                        Tanita Tikaram
High Blood Pressure                                                                Geoff Muldaur
Inner City Pressure                                                                  Flight Of The Conchords
Pressure                                                                                   Billy Joel
Pressure                                                                                   Neil Young
Pressure Drop                                                                          Robert Palmer
Pressure Drop                                                                          Toots & The Maytals
Pressure Zone                                                                          Beck
Under Pressure                                                                        Bowie/Queen
Just Squeeze Me                                                                      Duke Ellington
Just Squeeze Me                                                                      Duke Robillard/Herb Ellis
Squeeze Me                                                                             Maria Muldaur
Ball And Chain                                                                        Van Morrison
Ball Of Confusion                                                                    The Temptations
Ball And Chain                                                                        XTC
Ball Of Fire                                                                             Ernest Ranglin
Ball And Chain                                                                       Big Brother & The Holding Co.
Ball Of Fire                                                                             Tommy James & The Shondells
Let's Have A Ball                                                                    Ry Cooder
Mudfootball                                                                             Jack Johnson
Wrecking Ball                                                                         Gillian Welch
Wrecking Ball                                                                         Emmylou Harris
Backfield In Motion                                                                Mel & Tim

Hope to see you on Tuesday from noon til two on WOOL FM, 91.5, or wool.fm on the webs.  And try to remember: it's just an effin' game....