OK, we have “Joe’s Garage” parts one, two and three; “Joe’s Corsage”; “Joe’s Domage”; “Joe’s XMASage”; and “Joe’s Menage.” On this, the 10th day of Zappadan, the unlucky No. 13 in the days of December, let us thank the Central Scrutinizer (and the Zappa Family Trust) that we have not (as of yet) seen the release of “Joe’s Fromage,” the entire Zappa catalog as performed by Weird Al Yankovic. It ain’t easy bein’ cheesy.
Do you like my new car?
It’s early days yet, but it seems Americans may finally be getting it as regards the whole unhappy-motoring thing. According to The Associated Press, Americans logged 9 billion fewer miles on the nation’s roads in October despite a stunning drop in gasoline prices (to less than $1.50 per gallon here in Bibleburg):
Federal Highway Administration data released Friday show the number of miles driven dropped 3.5 percent in October compared with the same month a year ago. Between November 2007, when the driving decline began, and October, Americans drove 100 billion fewer miles. That’s the largest continuous decline in driving the nation has experienced.
While driving declined, subways, buses, commuter rail and light-rail systems have reported record increases in ridership. Amtrak, the nation’s intercity passenger railroad, said it carried the highest number of passengers and brought in the most revenue in fiscal 2008 in its 37-year history.
”The fact that the trend persists even as gas prices are dropping confirms that America’s travel habits are fundamentally changing,” Transportation Secretary Mary Peters said in a statement.
No word about how bicycling may have contributed to the lower auto mileage, alas. But still, fewer cars on the road means more room for us, no? That’s what I call some good news.
Speaking of fewer cars, it appears that the White House is considering other options after the Repuglitards in the Senate croaked the Big 3 bailout based largely on their hatred for the United Auto Workers. Being appallingly ignorant in matters financial, I don’t feel qualified to comment on whether the rescue plan is as crucial as the automakers and their allies suggest. But the shit is already rolling downhill, and many smaller companies that supply the Big 3 are living in the valley.
Trouble every day
Even NPR is running ’em out the door now. John McChesney and Ketzel Levine are among the 7 percent of staff to be unplugged, along with the shows “Day to Day” and “News and Notes,” as the public broadcaster tries to erase a projected budget shortfall of $23 million for this fiscal year.
“Companywide, NPR is laying off 64 people and eliminating 21 other positions that are currently vacant,” writes David Folkenflik.
The culprit, says NPR? Same sumbitch that nailed the rest of us in the wallet pocket — the Wall Street meltdown, which croaked interest payments from an endowment created from the bequest of the late Joan Kroc, which has typically paid NPR about $10 million a year.
Like the man said, a million here, a million there, and pretty soon you’re talking about real money.
Late update: That would be a billion here, etc., as Bruce has reminded me. Everett Dirksen. They told me that stuff would damage my brain, but did I listen? Nooooo.
Later update: Almost forgot to wish a happy birthday to one of my favorite authors, poet and novelist Jim Harrison. I was reminded by Garrison Keillor’s “Writer’s Almanac” on NPR. Harrison mentions NPR now and again in his latest novel, “The English Major,” which the critics love more than I do. But then what the hell do I know? I met Harrison once, briefly, following a reading at The Colorado College, and asked him to sign a copy of “Warlock.” He complied, somewhat grouchily, I thought; later I discovered he hated that novel, which he apparently whipped out at speed for money. I loved it. It seems unlikely that I will be invited to visit Montana for a week of fly-fishing with Harrison and Thomas McGuane anytime soon.
Write on!
In The New Republic, Mark Pinsky calls for the resurrection of the Federal Writers Project as a bailout for laid-off journalists, a less-than-exclusive club to which he belongs:
Gifted FWP alumni who went on to distinguished literary careers in literature include John Steinbeck, John Cheever, Nelson Algren, Saul Bellow, and African-Americans Zora Neale Hurston, Ralph Ellison, and Richard Wright. The recent death of Studs Terkel — a FWP veteran who went on to use the skills he developed in the program to chronicle the working- and middle-classes on his long-running radio show and in his Pulitzer Prize-winning books — is a reminder of how valuable this kind of experience can be. Ellison used his FWP research in “Invisible Man,” and Steinbeck and John Gunther relied on the FWP state guides for “Travels With Charley: In Search of America” and “Inside U.S.A.,” respectively.
Count me in. I haven’t been laid off — yet — but I feel that should worse come to worst, I’m ready, willing and able to contribute to some compilation of cheap jokes at other people’s expense. It’s either that or move to Montana to become a dental-floss tycoon.
Memoirs of a Zappatista (cont.)
Another encounter with FZ, this time as a Sears-poncho faux hippie slouching down Tejon Street in scenic downtown Bibleburg. Head shops were everywhere in the Seventies, even here. Tejon also served as home to an office of the John Birch Society, two or three dirty bookstores and a clean one, Dick and Judy Noyes’ Chinook, felled some years back by Amazon.com. One dirty bookstore survives, which tells you much of what you need to know about this place.
But as I said, I was slouching down Tejon and in the window of this head shop I saw a poster that stopped me in my tracks — the now-legendary Phi Zappa Krappa poster, depicting FZ squatting on a toilet. I was eagerly doing my lame-o best to offend as many people as possible through cartoons like “For Sure God Gets High” and “The Adventures of Loadedman,” and so found it delightful.
But FZ apparently found it less so, according to Kill Ugly Radio. The picture was originally intended to illustrate a British magazine article and promote The Mothers’ first concert in 1967, but took on a life of its own as a widely bootlegged poster from which FZ derived no royalties, though he did authorize at least one version, according to a 1975 story written by Steve Weitzman:
“Well, I don’t see anything wrong about sitting on a toilet and having your picture taken, but when somebody takes that picture and uses it to make money on your name. … Then you compound that with the public’s attitude toward excretory processes pictured in a poster like that … more people knew me for that poster than for my music. I said, ‘Well, that’s not fair.’ So I said, ‘I’m either going to do something drastic about it or just let it go’ and I figured, ‘Well, kiss it off.’ You can’t really change the public’s attitude about that.”
Ironic that FZ himself was probably the person most offended by that poster, no?
