“‘Tool Disposal Notice?'” I said. “At long last, they’re impeaching him!”
Nope. Just a Harbor Freight Tools ad. Still, a fella can always use a bigger hammer for those delicate adjustments to this and that.
Screwed again
Month: February 2019
Mad Dogs, Margaritas and music
Pat O’B contends that there’s still some good music out there today, the Grammys notwithstanding and despite a preposterously publicized preponderance of primadonnas, poseurs and pissants.
He’s right, of course. As a free-range rumormonger and Avatar of Fake News I lean toward the flamboyant and unsupported statement: “That sucks.” Or as the black marketeer Duffy put it in “The Commitments.”
“I don’t know why you bother. Everything’s shite since Roy Orbison died.”
Duffy got himself head-butted later for acting like a douche during a gig, despite being a patron of the arts, albeit a slightly heavy-handed one. And he certainly had it coming, Roy Orbison fan or no.
So who isn’t shite, and why? Chime in with your hit parade, and don’t sweat it about providing links if you’re not in the mood.
As for me, I’ll note that Steve Earle has a new album coming out next month, a tribute to the legendary Guy Clark, with guest appearances by Emmylou Harris, Rodney Crowell, Terry Allen, Jerry Jeff Walker, Mickey Raphael, Shawn Camp, Verlon Thompson and Gary Nicholson.
NPR’s Bob Boilen chatted with Steve earlier in the year. Their chat kicks off with a discussion of the Texas Chili Parlor’s Mad Dog Margaritas and segues into interesting bits like this:
“I’m very thankful that I came along at a time … this period when Bob Dylan had sort of singlehandedly elevated pop music to an art form by the force of lyrics. I really truly believe that this moment when Bob Dylan wants to be John Lennon and John Lennon wants to be Bob Dylan makes rock and roll hard overnight. Otherwise it’s just songs about cars and girls.”
So I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say Steve Earle doesn’t suck. Steve Earle is not shite. Please don’t head-butt me.
Can’t find my way home
Good thing it doesn’t matter when a virtual press runs, because someone has been intercoursing the penguin as regards his self-imposed deadlines.
Radio Free Dogpatch is intended to be a weekly affair, scheduled for Fridays, but just ask the penguin how well that’s worked out for him (whoops, too late, he’s exploded). To date the thing has reared its ugly head weekly, semimonthly, and on Fridays, Saturdays and Mondays.
After three or four goes at this most recent episode, which came this close to becoming a plain-vanilla blog post, I’m starting to think Wednesdays are the ticket. Showtime. Whatever.
In any case, and without further ado, here’s episode 19 of Radio Free Dogpatch. Too bad I couldn’t get it finished in time to win a Grammy to go along with all my Pulitzers, Reubens, Emmys and MacArthur Fellowships.
Oh, well, there’s always next year.
P L A Y R A D I O F R E E D O G P A T C H
• Editorial notes: Shannon Hall wrote about the meanderings of magnetic north for The New York Times. Steve Frothingham has been following the trials and tribulations of ASE and the various media-consolidation stories for Bicycle Retailer and Industry News. John McNulty wrote about super-salesman Elmer “Sell the Sizzle” Wheeler for The New Yorker way back in 1938. And Sam Dean of the Los Angeles Times gave us a peek at Zwift’s e-sports ambitions.
• Technical notes: This episode was recorded with an Audio-Technica AT2035 microphone and a Zoom H5 Handy Recorder. I edited in Apple’s GarageBand on a 2014 MacBook Pro, adding audio acquired through fair means and foul via Rogue Amoeba’s Audio Hijack (no profit was taken in an admittedly casual approach to various copyrights). Speaking of which, Buck appears courtesy of the 1935 William Wellman film “Call of the Wild,” while Nick Danger took a break from his Further Adventures to ask directions to The Firesign Theatre’s Old Same Place. The background music is “Crusin” from Zapsplat.com. And Blind Faith wrapped it all up with “Can’t Find My Way Home.”
Wired
Whatever the sonofabitch gets, it’s never enough. Wives, bankruptcies, you name it.
Now not even a Big, Beautiful Wall® will tickle Il Douche’s little pickle. Now it has to be a Big, Beautiful Wall with Six Rows of Razor Wire®.
And remember, folks: FreeDumb® isn’t free. DoD estimates that the military has spent $132 million so far “supporting” U.S. Customs and Border Protection — never mind that the number of arrests by the Border Patrol is the lowest since the early 1970s, while the number of agents has more than doubled — and other estimates indicate that border deployments could eat up a cool billion by the end of fiscal 2019.
Can we maybe put one of these BBWWSRORW® around the Orange House? With a lid on it?
Prime time is on trails, not TV
The State of the Union (El Rancho Pendejo Edition) is as follows:
Herself is now working 10 hours a day, four days a week, so as to have a three-day weekend each and every week.
I am working not quite so much, my career having developed a slow leak at the potholed intersection of Bicycle and Journalism.
I have a cartoon to draw for Bicycle Retailer and Industry News, and a review to finish for Adventure Cyclist, and beyond that it’s anybody’s guess. Terra incognita. Here be dragons. All hope abandon, ye who scribble here.
Speaking of hope abandoned, I can’t wait to see the ratings for last night’s comedy special from Capitol Hill. Knowing that Charlie Pierce would be on the case, we gave it a miss, reasoning that if we want to watch a loon pretending to be president we can always dredge up some old “SNL” footage of Chevy Chase playing Gerald Ford.
Instead we caught up on “Crashing,” the Pete Holmes thing on HBO. It’s only so-so — Marc Maron and Bill Burr are more my style, when ol’ Freckles isn’t raving about ball sports — but you get to see some funny cameos by twisted comics like Dave Attell and Jeff Ross.
Beforehand I engaged in wheel sport, taking a quick out-and-back spin on the Voodoo Nakisi, which has been neglected while I review the Jamis Aurora Elite. My mad trail skillz have atrophied, and I was dabbing on sections a fat 4-year-old could handle on a balance bike, but it sure beat working. It beat not working too.
Mad Blog Media 