Very Be Careful - "Cumbia Cienaguera" - Brooklyn, 2001
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Another Excerpt...
There was an ocean of difference between England and the rest of Europe.
Spain, for example, went near mad each year over the outcome of the “Best-Dressed Empire” award. The English, though sharply outfitted and wig wearing, were not so fickle. They had boycotted the annual ceremony for decades, ever since Sir Preston Balls IV made a drunken ass out of himself & England, crashing the acceptance speech of Portugal’s impeccable Joao Crustacean.
Slobbering over the podium, and waving his silver Tara Brooch around like a magic wand, Balls made his sizzling grievance known to the fashion world: “Portugalzzz no em…aaah!!…PIRE! My Nana, Maude BALLS, god ressss her soul, had more imperial swagger in her left tea finger than these…PORTugeese…haha!…have in that whole blasted COUNTRY. And another thing: the Water Dog ain’t shit!!!”
A fleet of Polish mercenary security guards rushed poor Balls and tackled him to the ground, like Troy Aikman caught naked in the pocket.
The English didn't save face, and never showed their faces again.
There was an ocean of difference between England and the rest of Europe.
Spain, for example, went near mad each year over the outcome of the “Best-Dressed Empire” award. The English, though sharply outfitted and wig wearing, were not so fickle. They had boycotted the annual ceremony for decades, ever since Sir Preston Balls IV made a drunken ass out of himself & England, crashing the acceptance speech of Portugal’s impeccable Joao Crustacean.
Slobbering over the podium, and waving his silver Tara Brooch around like a magic wand, Balls made his sizzling grievance known to the fashion world: “Portugalzzz no em…aaah!!…PIRE! My Nana, Maude BALLS, god ressss her soul, had more imperial swagger in her left tea finger than these…PORTugeese…haha!…have in that whole blasted COUNTRY. And another thing: the Water Dog ain’t shit!!!”
A fleet of Polish mercenary security guards rushed poor Balls and tackled him to the ground, like Troy Aikman caught naked in the pocket.
The English didn't save face, and never showed their faces again.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Excerpt From "A Country of Scorn (and Porn)"...
Lord Twigbury, governor of Delaware from 1708-1714, was your average asshole British gentleman. Born out of a cannon, dying to chew his way to the top of his own food chain, L.T. (as his friends knew him, an old-testament to his killer strength & snuff habit) knew what time it was in the colonies:
“The time has come, my fellow trapeze artists, to dangle cheese in front of these rats and then hit them upside the head with it. Pay no mind to the substance of these words. My point is that for too long now the colonies have been jiving to their own beat. They must synchronize their watches back to London. I mean, don’t these pricks understand the premise of a colony? Do they think I govern for fun? That there’s a “Lord” before my name because it sounds cute? What will happen to our Queen’s England if we permit Yankee Scum to start naming themselves? First comes “Mariah” and then BAM! You and yours truly are out of a goddamn job. Do you dig?”
He continued (No one else, for the record, was present) ...
“Look at all you graceless excuses for noblemen! You let them do this to us, right under our powdered wigs!! Just this past fortnight, I was shining my boots with what I thought was the finest of turtle wax, manufactured nowhere else but in the mother of all motherlands: England! Imagine the feeling of death in my stomach when I read the bottom of the jar:
Not only was this wax made from turtles roving the Massachusetts Bay, it was assembled & profited on by crackers not loyal to the Queen of England.
Are you hearing this?! What’s next? American Muffins?!!”
You better believe that Twigbury would have raged on for hours, alone in his 4th tearoom. But after computing the horrific notion of a world without English Muffins, L.T. choked on the most titanic case of heart failure in the history of the world (All this before the advent of the McMuffin!). The Dover medical examiner claimed that the insides of Twigbury’s chest looked like a “gaggle of real-life toy soldiers had danced their best Patrick Swayze all over them and then left a ticking cluster bomb behind for good measure.”
Yikes.
Lord Twigbury, governor of Delaware from 1708-1714, was your average asshole British gentleman. Born out of a cannon, dying to chew his way to the top of his own food chain, L.T. (as his friends knew him, an old-testament to his killer strength & snuff habit) knew what time it was in the colonies:
“The time has come, my fellow trapeze artists, to dangle cheese in front of these rats and then hit them upside the head with it. Pay no mind to the substance of these words. My point is that for too long now the colonies have been jiving to their own beat. They must synchronize their watches back to London. I mean, don’t these pricks understand the premise of a colony? Do they think I govern for fun? That there’s a “Lord” before my name because it sounds cute? What will happen to our Queen’s England if we permit Yankee Scum to start naming themselves? First comes “Mariah” and then BAM! You and yours truly are out of a goddamn job. Do you dig?”
He continued (No one else, for the record, was present) ...
“Look at all you graceless excuses for noblemen! You let them do this to us, right under our powdered wigs!! Just this past fortnight, I was shining my boots with what I thought was the finest of turtle wax, manufactured nowhere else but in the mother of all motherlands: England! Imagine the feeling of death in my stomach when I read the bottom of the jar:
Not only was this wax made from turtles roving the Massachusetts Bay, it was assembled & profited on by crackers not loyal to the Queen of England.
Are you hearing this?! What’s next? American Muffins?!!”
You better believe that Twigbury would have raged on for hours, alone in his 4th tearoom. But after computing the horrific notion of a world without English Muffins, L.T. choked on the most titanic case of heart failure in the history of the world (All this before the advent of the McMuffin!). The Dover medical examiner claimed that the insides of Twigbury’s chest looked like a “gaggle of real-life toy soldiers had danced their best Patrick Swayze all over them and then left a ticking cluster bomb behind for good measure.”
Yikes.
Excerpt from "A Nation of Scorn (And Porn)"...
And the French. What about the French? Well, first, their King was addicted to sex. This might not sound extraordinary, but this dude had a serious problem. The baguette, one of France’s most beloved staples, was in reality first “used” in the Royal Bedroom rather than the Royal Dining Hall. It was only after the god-awful, marathon fact that the King discovered the joy of inserting the baked bread into the mouth.
There’s more.
The Napoleonic Wars were a direct result of this…addiction.
According to sources close to the source, the story goes that the King, having binged for 80 straight hours on a monster cocktail of wine, ephedra, ibogaine and chocolate, went through 443 women and 279 men like a modern-day Raging Bull. After hallucinating that his penis was a Japanese Samurai, destined to sepaku, the King became the first & last person ever to bite his own head off. Rumor has it that one of these 443 women gave birth to Napoleon Bonaparte.
And the French. What about the French? Well, first, their King was addicted to sex. This might not sound extraordinary, but this dude had a serious problem. The baguette, one of France’s most beloved staples, was in reality first “used” in the Royal Bedroom rather than the Royal Dining Hall. It was only after the god-awful, marathon fact that the King discovered the joy of inserting the baked bread into the mouth.
There’s more.
The Napoleonic Wars were a direct result of this…addiction.
According to sources close to the source, the story goes that the King, having binged for 80 straight hours on a monster cocktail of wine, ephedra, ibogaine and chocolate, went through 443 women and 279 men like a modern-day Raging Bull. After hallucinating that his penis was a Japanese Samurai, destined to sepaku, the King became the first & last person ever to bite his own head off. Rumor has it that one of these 443 women gave birth to Napoleon Bonaparte.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
My Place!
Living
Dining
Kitchen
Batroom (the sink blocks the door from opening more)
Bedroom #1
Bedroom #2 (Part 1)
Bedroom #2 (Part 2)
Friday, September 12, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
i'm working as a substitute teacher at the american school of pachuca (more on that some other time). this book was in the school library. it's from 1964, by some fool called sidney lens, and so far it's silly as hell: history made for kidz made for fat capital-lust & reality-rejection.
here’s a quote from the second freaking page:
“Revolution means a radical change. The American Revolution radically changed the character of America. If it had not been for this Revolution there might not have been a United States stretching from the Atlantic to the Pacific Oceans. Instead there might have been three or five or twenty small countries, each as weak as—say—Mexico or Peru. Who knows?”
well, fuck me. as weak as mexico or peru? when you put it like that, sydney, i thank my lucky stars & stripes that the u.s. was founded by pasty, slave-owning indian-killers. you’re absolutely right: where would i be without them? maybe mexico...
but really, sydney. what ARE you saying? if the yankees hadn’t torn west through most of north america with blood dripping from their teeths WE’D be just like THE MEXICANS?!
whatever. the real point of, “A Country is Born: The Story of the American Revolution,” by Sidney Lens is that it’s now, “a country of scorn (and porn): the joke of american ablution,” by max cheney.
in the spirit of my dad, don cheney, i’m getting my translation on.
here are a few clips of what’s so far (keep in mind that these, along with the title, are rough):
*back then the world was no bigger than your average country elephant. clowns & garbage men made up a different kind of economy. dog’s tails chased them instead of, well, the other way around. the pope wore lycra trousers in the mornings and by dusk had crossed himself so many times that he often wandered the garden wearing only a cocktail dress. this is 1775 serious…*
later…
*compared to the macho, nacho-cheese fuck-you skirmishes that the united states puts claim on these days, the american revolution was more like the american Pussy-Bitch-Slap-Fest. the war cost the same as like twelve oxen and a crate of cracker jacks. westmoreland spent more on a napalm cigarette in vietnam.
in brite-lite of all this, you may be thinking to yourself: “jesus, the american revolution sounds like a waste of time, a circle-jerk for a gang of adolescents at a slumber party.” well, rest assured, you’re dead on.*
later…
*when did the american revolution actually pop off? was it in 1765, when british parliament created the world’s largest stamp collection (geeks!)? was it in 1775, when the first sissy-fight broke out at lexington & concord? was it in 1776, when john whipped out his hancock and, along with fitty-four other sphincter-says-whats, pissed all over thomas jefferson and his “special document”?
who knows. it ain’t important. all you punk motherfuckers need to know is that the colonies decided to start taking names.*
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