November 30, 2003



Maybe someone has said all this before, but this interview with UC Berkeley professor George Lakoff is one of the best takes on Republican rhetoric I've seen, both in precision and scope.

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A gentleman named "Iceberg Slim" sent me this email. You've probably seen it, but repetition is the heart of resistance. (No, I don't think posting a mean email is a bonafide act of resistance, but I like the balance of that line, and it will be appropriate to describe another act, so take it with you.)

Curriculum vitae of George W. Bush The White House, USA



I was arrested in Kennebunkport, Maine, in 1976 for driving under the influence of alcohol. I pled guilty, paid a fine, and had my driver's license suspended for 30 days. My Texas driving record has been "lost" and is not available.


I joined the Texas Air National Guard and went AWOL. I refused to take a drug test or answer any questions about my drug use. By joining the Texas Air National Guard, I was able to avoid combat duty in Vietnam.


I graduated from Yale University with a low C average. I was a cheerleader.


I ran for U.S. Congress and lost.

I began my career in the oil business in Midland, Texas, in 1975. I bought an oil company, but couldn't find any oil in Texas. The company went bankrupt shortly after I sold all my stock.

I bought the Texas Rangers baseball team in a sweetheart deal that took land using taxpayer money.

With the help of my father and our right-wing friends in the oil industry (including Enron CEO Ken Lay), I was elected governor of Texas.


I changed Texas pollution laws to favor power and oil companies, making Texas the most polluted state in the Union.

During my tenure, Houston replaced Los Angeles as the most smog-ridden city in America.

I cut taxes and bankrupted the Texas treasury to the tune of billions in borrowed money.

I set the record for the most executions by any governor in American history.

With the help of my brother, the governor of Florida, and my father's appointments to the Supreme Court, I became President after losing by over 500,000 votes.


I am the first President in U.S. history to enter office with a criminal record.

I invaded and occupied two countries at a continuing cost of over one billion dollars per week.

I spent the U.S. surplus and effectively bankrupted the U.S. Treasury.

I shattered the record for the largest annual deficit in U.S. history.

I set an economic record for most private bankruptcies filed in any 12-month period.

I set the all-time record for most foreclosures in a 12-month period.

I set the all-time record for the biggest drop in the history of the U.S. stock market.

In my first year in office, over 2 million Americans lost their jobs and that trend continues every month.

I'm proud that the members of my cabinet are the richest of any administration in U.S. history.

My "poorest millionaire," Condoleeza Rice, has a Chevron oil tanker named after her.

I set the record for most campaign fund-raising trips by a U.S. President.

I am the all-time U.S. and world record-holder for receiving the most corporate campaign donations.

My largest lifetime campaign contributor, and one of my best friends, Kenneth Lay, presided over the largest corporate bankruptcy fraud in U.S. history, Enron.

My political party used Enron private jets and corporate attorneys to assure my success with the U.S. Supreme Court during my election decision.

I have protected my friends at Enron and Halliburton against investigation or prosecution. More time and money was spent investigating the Monica Lewinsky affair than has been spent investigating one of the biggest corporate rip-offs in history.

I presided over the biggest energy crisis in U.S. history and refused to intervene when corruption involving the oil industry was revealed.

I presided over the highest gasoline prices in U.S. history.

I changed the U.S. policy to allow convicted criminals to be awarded government contracts.

I appointed more convicted criminals to administration than any President in U.S. history.

I created the Ministry of Homeland Security, the largest bureaucracy in the history of the United States government.

I've broken more international treaties than any President in U.S.

I am the first President in U.S. history to have the United Nations remove the U.S. from the Human Rights Commission.

I withdrew the U.S. from the World Court of Law.

I refused to allow inspectors access to U.S. "prisoners of war" detainees and thereby have refused to abide by the Geneva Convention.

I am the first President in history to refuse United Nations election inspectors (during the 2002 U.S. election).

I set the record for fewest number of press conferences of any President since the advent of television.

I set the all-time record for most days on vacation in any one-year period.

After taking off the entire month of August, I presided over the worst security failure in U.S. history.

I garnered the most sympathy for the U.S. after the World Trade Center attacks and less than a year later made the U.S. the most hated country in the world, the largest failure of diplomacy in world history.

I have set the all-time record for most people worldwide to simultaneously protest me in public venues (15 million people), shattering the record for protest against any person in the history of mankind.

I am the first President in U.S. history to order an unprovoked, pre-emptive attack and the military occupation of a sovereign nation. I did so against the will of the United Nations, the majority of U.S. citizens, and the world community.

I have cut health care benefits for war veterans and support a cut in duty benefits for active duty troops and their families -- in war time.

In my State of the Union Address, I lied about our reasons for attacking Iraq, then blamed the lies on our British friends.

I am the first President in history to have a majority of Europeans (71%) view my presidency as the biggest threat to world peace and security.

I am supporting development of a nuclear "Tactical Bunker Buster," a WMD.

I have so far failed to fulfill my pledge to bring Osama Bin Laden and Saddam Hussein to justice.


All records of my tenure as governor of Texas are now in my father's library, sealed and unavailable for public view.

All records of SEC investigations into my insider trading and my bankrupt companies are sealed in secrecy and unavailable for public view.

All records or minutes from meetings that I, or my Vice-President, attended regarding public energy policy are sealed in secrecy and unavailable for public review.


Posted by Sasha at 05:47 PM | TrackBack



Stop flapping your wings! Go out and buy me some goddamn sneakers! Size 10 1/2 in Converse, 11 in Nike. The city is your oyster:

sneakers downtown.jpg

Sneaker map midtown.jpg

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November 28, 2003



and getting zero in the night goggles. Boston's South End is rainy, Marc Ribot's first Postizos record sounds fabulous but the new Missy is doing nothing, save for "Bump" and "Pump." (Phonetic nerds are running the numbers now.) I love silky smooth tectonics, but I'd take Dave Hollister or Green Gartside or the Isleys over Melissa's soggy stee. I prefer Missy to so many people, but the Tim & Magoo album has much better funk, and those shallow, randy VA boys sounds more committed than Miss E circa now. I'd like to compensate and relate that I could buy the world a vowel--O my god---but it just is not LIKE THAT. And that's not the way it is.

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November 26, 2003


Under restoration.

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We (and I do mean we) are staying at our friends' house in the South End of Boston. Someone is supposed to be making parsnips tomorrow. That's a surprise to everyone but me.

About last night:

Shout out to that freezing trend palace on Avenue C for the lousy Japanese food! You were friendly, though. Big wobbly holler to Lava Gina for the terrible pun that we were too slow to get. Qualified respect to the editorial staff of Linux Boondoggle and The Crafty E-Crafts journal--you cats and kittens can dance! Halting apologies to the staff of The Rusty Scupper for the whole fishtank thing. What can we say? Shit is mad real in the 03! And true, deep thanks to the P.O.s from the 1 2 holding it down at the Mollycoddler and Ice-Melter for Daddy Law. We really weren't sleeping! We have a tingly back condition and that bench by the car wash really does the trick. (Thank you for using the soft and sensuous cuffs, though.) Till next time.

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November 25, 2003



Julianne Shepherd, and now you can be, too.

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November 24, 2003



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November 22, 2003



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November 21, 2003

good morning, captains


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November 19, 2003



You are John Gould Fletcher (1886-1950), author of Goblins and Pagodas, Branches of Adam etc. You're a dreamer of independent means, solitary but capable of deep passion, steeped in the scents of the American South and later, of the Orient. You're not always happy, but you're very productive. And you won a Pulitzer.

Which of the Imagist poets are you?

The fuck!

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You mean this e-malarkey won't lead to high-paid gigs interviewing the No Neck Blues Band? Time to stop the madness before anyone gets hurt. We can't keep the teams and players straight.

Posted by Sasha at 12:27 PM | TrackBack



Tupac, The Living Brand, beating Jay-Z & G-Unit, The Living MCs, would have been historically thuggish. The involved parties might have even celebrated. But can you imagine if Josh Groban had out-debuted the G-Unit? See above. (Big number after title is number of units sold this week. Soundscan info courtesy of Raspberry Jones.)

1 * JAY-Z|BLACK ALBUM (463263)
2 * 2PAC|RESURRECTION (430219)
3 * G-UNIT|BEG FOR MERCY (376941)
6 VA-NOW THAT'S W|VOL. 14 (195719)
8 * KID ROCK|KID ROCK (188524)
9 * PINK|TRY THIS (147469)


Because I had to read Sting's autobiography and you didn't, I'll share two things: Stewart "Motherflipping Computer-Style Consistency" Copeland thought of putting the emphatic duplet on the second beat of the verse in "Roxanne." Give him whatever he asks for. Also, Outlandos D'Amour is pretty great. You didn't need to read anything to figure that out, but I haven't heard this in maybe 20 years. I have yet to hear a song I don't like. Oh, wait. This sex doll song is wack. And there's a line in "So Lonely" about starring in the desert of his own soul. Like, who else would? Still, putting Der Stingle's melodies over a fast rhythm section certainly accentuates the positive.

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A fax machine has been calling our house, usually in clusters of 12 separate calls, for almost 10 days. Favorite time to do this: 3 AM. The phone company says all I can do is file a police report. Having recently spent some time with police officers from my precinct, I can say confidently that they don't want to hear about this. I do not blame them. I am not sure why the phone company can't block this cockpinching robo-tone from entering my happy home.

Posted by Sasha at 11:41 AM | TrackBack



Have a good time in Florida, Jessica, and thank you for this definitive take on the aesthetics of humiliation a.k.a. the Paris Hilton tape.

Music, we're supposed to say something:

Seeing the Deftones Thursday night at Hammerstein Ballroom. Fucking psy-hi-hiced. Recommended: The "Minerva" video on the Deftones site, another rare example of what happens when you don't let the company robot cut your footage into little nuggets of anxiety. Long shots, the desert, head drops on the downbeat, and Chino Moreno: all you need. Too bad about the slow-mo.

Medium Medium--that's the shitty band The Rapture sound like. God, that's been bugging me. (Yes, "Hungry So Angry" was pretty good when it came out. No, you don't need anything else.) If you must have sort-of danceable music, then get the fun new Don't Stop EP by Tussle, yet another band with an attractive website.

The new Dave H0llister album is pretty good for an R. Kelly record. Anyone who samples James Brown's "The Payback" has a) a pretty good shot at making a decent single and b) a built-in support group.

Posted by Sasha at 11:23 AM | TrackBack



I've seen a lot of anti-Bush Flash movies, but this one seems like it might actually move those on the fence. Or not, but "Death for Money" is a song that you can't sing too often right now.

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November 18, 2003



This explanation of the grand jury's roots is worth noting:

Can you tell me where and when the grand jury system originated?

Response: It originated in England in 1166. The English had used a 12 person jury to bring charges and then trial was by combat or ordeal (holding red hot iron, being thrown into water to see if you floated, etc.). The Catholic Church outlawed the ordeal and the Normans who had conquered England and were now making the law had to come up with a new method of trial. They made the 12 person jury (the petit jury) the trial jury and created a new 23 person "grand" jury to investigate and bring charges.

Was the "attorney-less" witness feature (witness cannot be accompanied by a lawyer in the grand jury room) a feature of English jurisprudence?

Response: Always . . . until very late in English law, someone charged with a felony was not even entitled to have an attorney at trial (or to be advised of the charges against them). Consequently, it was inconceivable that a grand jury witness would have a lawyer.

Fine. This will tell you about what goes on in a New York Grand Jury. Notice the phrase "rubber stamp" and make up your own mind as to whether it is no longer applicable.


People's lives: Sometimes bone-snappingly horrible.

Who does bad things to people: Generally men.

Who makes the social contract a tough gig, at best: Grand jurors who would rather go, loudly, to Starbucks than hear a rape victim's testimonial.


The bill I will pass in my own personal Congress: Robots may no longer fax me at 2 AM. I know: it's nice to talk to you, too, but we're all on this new sleep regimen.

The heightened senses, or Why abstinence just gets you off in the end: Standing on principle and hating Bob Dylan as the Hippy Ambassador for the last 20 years was kinda dumb, but how awesome is it to have this huge catalog to sink into now, when the brain is slightly warmer?

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November 15, 2003



We will read Mark Sinker on anything: keys, bits of fluff, subscription pull-outs, even Kant! From the looks of this food column (or series of posts impersonating a column about food), we may eventually read Sinker on the contents of his glove-box, favorite carry bags, etc. And a grand day that will BEE.

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Hold your hats--it's called It's a game, it's a music-making system, it's very cute and cool. You knew the robots would live longer than anyone.

What is the rule of polling? If 3 people say yes, they represent a hundred? No? Is that even close? In that spirit, though reduced for purposes of scale, I offer the following response to three queries: No, I really never had listened to Blonde On Blonde. I know the hits, even owned the thing as far back as '88. But I never took it out and played it. I'm pretty comfortable with the received wisdom for once. Not nearly as murky and poky as I feared.

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Chain store, here I come. My stunting is subpar!

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November 14, 2003



1. What is wrong with Magoo? I am not remembering any good reasons to not like Magoo.

2. What is it with T1m & Mag00 records? Why do people sleep on them?

3. Is Tim kinda biting Bubba's style?

4. One of Mag00's rhymes mentions Tim & The Neptunes in the same line. This is the first time this has happened, yes?

5. Is this Wyclef? What the fuck is Wyclef doing here? Is this Burning Spear? Who is this? Go on, scoot.

6. Hey, another Diwali beat. The first few songs (shuffled in the iPod) were good, but yadda yadda.

7. I have a new idea for criticism. Put "super-duper" in front of any aesthetic call. Since taste may be the most useless part of crit, why not twerk it? Torque it? Stick a fork in it? Don't cry, I have no sporks, don't give Grand Puba pork. I once went to Tallahassee and met a lassy who acted kinda sassy. I asked her favorite MC and she said Pimp C and I said I'm kind a chintzy, you pay the bill, I'll be at the hotel.

8. So if you think an album is "dreamy" call it "super-duper dreamy." Your review is now 33% better!

9. Timbaland is singing John Denver. Raje is just humming. Let the woman sing!

10. "Kold Cutz" has more Raje. Uh. "You're carrying me like a school folder."

11. Who should do a baseball-related hip-hop album?

12. Which major league baseball players would make the best MCs?

13. I think Pudge Rodriguez would sound like Phife.

14. No, he'd sound like CL Smooth.

15. When was Deda's The Or1g1nal Baby Pa recorded? This reissue has no information. How fucking BANANAS was Pete Rock in His Prime Era?

16. Is this album still playing? Ten minutes ago, I loved it. I suppose this is why dude is a producer.

17. I prefer "Rainbow Colors" by 3 6 to this song. But the previous song was better than most Bread songs.

18. If Archers of Loaf had to run an antiques shop, would they arrive on time or keep all the people who want ottomans waiting?

19. If they were the last two people on Earth, would you hire Too Short or Macho Man Randy Savage as a babysitter?

20. This song said something about shoving a dick down somebody's throat. My friend Joshua said line reading can save any lyric. He was wrong.

21. You should read Joshua's poem "Aeon Flux: June", for is it truly crunk.

22. I have figured out why people don't care about T1m & Mag00 records. But Welcome To Our World was great. And Indecent Proposal had some great tunes. So did this album, about 30 minutes ago. Hi. How are you. Get off my couch.

23. It is frustrating when some poems have not been typed for me on the web. We don't want to get up. We would like you to have read a Fanny Howe poem by now.

24. We are looking.

25. I am looking.

26. Here are some.

27. Here are many more.

28. Wait. We're back in business. "That Shit Ain't Gonna Work" is more like it.

29. What do the people who believe George Bush look like? Like everyone else? More placid? More demented? Do they wear more synthetics? Do they work out less?

30. I think "Cop That Shit" is really good. But "Pump It Up" is better. Or it isn't.

31. Get your favorite reviews. Take out all the qualitative language. Take out all the song descriptions. What's left?

32. Whatever that residue is, we should expand it and reduce the rest.

33. No, I'm no role model.

34. Have I ever shown you my Golden Glove trophy?

35. Yeah, your mother.

Posted by Sasha at 08:51 PM | TrackBack



1. They sure did want to release "Work It" again.

2. The Miss Dutch sequence with the Barbie dolls made us laugh. (INSERT WEB LANGUAGE THAT INDICATES WE ACTUALLY LAUGHED.)

3. What's up with making fun of fat people? ("Potholes in my lawn" quote.) In "Pump It Up" Missy says "I love my gut, fuck a tummy tuck." But now she's wearing tight shorts in not one, but two new videos. Complicated relationship alert.

4. What's up with the "sweet meat in the Village" line in "It's Alright"? Is it alright? Am I just being uptight? It went by fast and now the link won't reload.

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November 12, 2003



Best band website we've seen in ages. It is much like The Books' second album, the lemon of pink: detached but pleasing, atomized and beautiful.

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Good essay on the DC rock fracas here on Travis Morrison's website. Even better is the "Sixteen Types Of People" MP3, which must have The Postal Service shook.

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From Harper's Weekly update:

"Lawyers at the Environmental Protection Agency announced that they were dropping lawsuits against 50 power plants for violating the Clean Air Act, because newly weakened enforcement rules have undermined the cases; the Bush Administration previously had promised that the lawsuits would continue after the rules change. The state attorneys general of New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut, which are downwind from many of the plants, promised to sue the polluters directly."

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Music sounds better as you.

From my favorite Milton resource, a passage on Satan ("our adversarie") and human responsibility from Book 3 of Paradise Lost:

Onely begotten Son, seest thou what rage
Transports our adversarie, whom no bounds
Prescrib'd, no barrs of Hell, nor all the chains
Heapt on him there, nor yet the main Abyss
Wide interrupt can hold; so bent he seems
On desparate reveng, that shall redound
Upon his own rebellious head. And now
Through all restraint broke loose he wings his way
Not farr off Heav'n, in the Precincts of light,
Directly towards the new created World,
And Man there plac't, with purpose to assay
If him by force he can destroy, or worse,
By some false guile pervert; and shall pervert
For man will heark'n to his glozing lyes,
And easily transgress the sole Command,
Sole pledge of his obedience: So will fall,
Hee and his faithless Progenie: whose fault?
Whose but his own? ingrate, he had of mee
All he could have; I made him just and right,
Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.

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November 10, 2003

and the night picked her, lengths and times both


If some crabcakes contractor starts filling up your house with the noxious techno stink of paint and adhesive and unguents, strike back for the nose (what leads to the brain) and makes this potion:

2 lemons, halved and squeezed
4 cups water
3 tablespoons cinnamon
1 tablespoon of sugar

Simmer on medium, cut to low and let the fumes do the work. Your house will smell like Le Pain Quotidien in no time.

In the living room: new old drum set (thanks, Clem!), 800 magazines we haven't read and a kick-ass flower arrangement wifey stole offa table.

Listened to Blonde On Blonde for the first time today. For a 2 CD white whale, it's awfully jaunty.

Weekend: Saw 10 Bach keyboard concertos. Could not break through the ice of accrued feelings (pos + neg) to find "real" reactions to the allegro typewriter sections (brain dredges up Huffman-Koos commercials, weekends with folks, Christmas shopping) but the adagio sections were often gorgeous, especially the adagio e piano sempre of No. 3 (BMV 1054) and the pizzicatio, all moderno largo section of No. 5 (BMV 1056), which dissolves our radar and leaves nothing behind but dust.

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but it is an excellent metaphor for the meat industry, or Flash movie primers on the ABCs of murder buxx that use The Matrix as organizing principle.

Since David Carr (who we know nothing about) declared Killing Joke an "of-the-moment" band in The New York Times this weekend (no link, because it will simply become a shill page in a week), we will soon post the diary-stee Killing Joke timeline produced, by-product-stee (much like head cheese or fuel oil) while writing the Voice piece. (No link because we hate our computer so much/right/now.)

Grand jury: some fucking rubber stamp, tax-wasting, stacked deck bull ISH.

Today, the picture below. Tomorrow, the rug above, a meditation on aestheticks and homemade dialectics.


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November 09, 2003



We guess maybe we are angry, too, but we guess maybe we don't have a gun. But it's The Matrix that makes people kill, not access to guns. Or at least this journalist didn't bother to ask the police, himself or the shooter's parents why it's OK for teenager to have a shotgun in his bedroom. The number of times this question is routinely not asked is more the story than the story.

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November 08, 2003



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We knew "Maps" was the bestest song on Fever To Tell, but we did not expect it to make a great video. How many times have we asked God for a video with long, steady shots of the performers? How many times have we asked God to deep-six the ADD editing style? She has heard us, and sent Karen O. to deliver the news. Roll over, McG.

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Take a look at our friend Jordin Isip's work here, where you will also find a link to his own site.

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November 07, 2003



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November 06, 2003



Believe me: You have no problems. Unless you come before the grand jury for some reason, you're doing fine. Stop whining. Go for a run. Download some naked gazelles.

Didn't make it in time to add this to today's piece on The Strokes.

Roman Coppola’s video for “12:51” captures the Strokes’ uptight gestalt. Using effects from the 80s sci-fi movie Tron, Coppola presents the band performing in a state of high boredom. Casablancas looks like the Valium is kicking in--only guitarist Albert Hammond seems to know the camera's on. Bits of the space age set glow, as do the microphone and various instruments. As the song sinks in, you want more little flashes of light. When Casablancas, still phoning it from Ennuihawken, windmills his microphone and leaves a thick trail of light, it’s kinda thrilling. The restraint has become sexy, and the whole gameplan makes sense.

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November 05, 2003



Good Day,

You may be surprise to receive this email since you do not know me.

I am the son of the late president of Democratic Republic Of Zaire, President Mobutu Sese Seko, (Now The Republic of Congo, under the leadership of the son of Mr. Laurent Kabila). I presume you are aware there is a financial dispute between my family (THE MOBUTUS) and the present civilian Government. This is based on what they believe as bad and corrupt governance on my late father's part. May his soul rest in perfect peace. As you might have heard how a lot of my father's bank account in Switzerland and North America have been frozen. Following the above named reasons, I am soliciting for your humble and confidential assistance to take custody of THIRTY Million United States Dollars ( US$30,000,000.00 ), also to front for me in the areas of business you desire profitable.

These funds have secretly been deposited into a confidential Security Company, where it can easily be withdrawn or paid to a recommended beneficiary. The funds will be released to you by the Security Company, based on my recommendations, on that note, you will be presented as my partner who will be fronting for me and my family in any subsequent ventures. Myself and my mother have decided to give 20% to you if you are able to help us claim this consignment. We have also decided to give you any money spent on phone calls or traveling expenses in the course of this transaction at the end of the transaction.

Please, I need your entire support and co-operation for the success of this transaction, your utmost confidentiality and secrecy is highly required, due to my family's present predicament.

I sincerely will appreciate your willingness to assist us as soon as possible. I am presently in the refugee camp here in the Netherlands under the united nations refugee camp in Netherlands and I can be reached on phone number +31-615-684-061 or E-mail me at for more information on how we can proceed in this transaction. Please indicate your interest by sending your telephone and fax number or call me up at anytime. I sincerely will appreciate your acknowledgement as soon as possible.

Warmest regards,

Basher Mobutu Sese-Seko.

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November 04, 2003



Jay-Z's The Dynasty is the wackest album he ever made. Lame beats, mean-spirited bitch raps, dull autobio retreads. Beans comes off, but I don't know if I'd pull more than one song off this for a mix CD. Meanwhile, The Black Album gets better and better. I might put it in #2 position behind Volume 3. Haven't A/B'd it yet, though. "Dirt Off Your Shoulders" is my favorite Tim/Jay track since "Snoopy Track."

To repel the bad vibes, a semi self-portrait which summons the spirit of the best American hardcore album ever.

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1. Avril Lavigne's “Sk8ter Boi” contains the lines "He wasn't good enough for her/Now he's a super star,/slamming on his guitar." Bing! Someone over the age of 30 was involved in writing this song. One: The idea that a boy wouldn't be good enough for a girl is the kind of low-affect feminism that someone of my generation might write into a song, but it isn't a common sentiment in chart pop now. (Watch this space for a parsing of Exit To Eden, a movie that simply wouldn't be made the same way now. [It's terrible, but that's not the point.]) Two: "Slamming" hasn't been current since Prince's 1987 single "U Got The Look," which contains the couplet "Your face is jammin'/Your body's hecka-slammin'." (Say it to someone you love today.) This profile confirmed my guess that The Matrix are my contemporaries. I assumed that affection for Prince and need of a rhyme led to use of "slamming" but I did not know that "Sk8ter Boi" is the story of Lauren Christy's and Graham Edwards's romance. This is totally adorable.

2. From the same album as "U Got The Look," Prince's "I Could Never Take The Place of Your Man” starts with this awakward couplet: "It was only last June when her old man ran away/She couldn't stop cryin' 'cause she knew he was gone to stay." Reversing the direction established by The Matrix reaching back to the 80s, I rewrite these words in the present vernacular every time I hear the song: "It was only last June when her old man left the hood/She couldn't stop crying 'cause she knew he was gone for good." It bears mentioning that this song is mighty and perfect and I have no right to even think this way.

3. Kelly Rowland’s “Stole”. This entire song could use a high school English re-think. Stole = lame use of non-standard English. Fitted in = big fat limpy. Line reading can make any word choice the right choice, Strunk & White be damned, but this song sounds as bad as it reads.

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Just finished Series Two of The Office. Watching Tim defeat himself and botch two relationships--brutal. We slept fitfully after that one. No sunshine in Slough. David's comeuppance was predestined like the Greeks, but Tim's rise-to-the-middle ideology was the perfect buzzkilling anomie cherry on a very buzzkilling pile of episodes. All cringe, all the time.

The Americans are taking a crack at a new version. Hopes are low.

This fan site is pretty good.

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November 03, 2003



Any day with the boys is stellar, but also receiving the new P!nk and Sophie Ellis-Banana Republic makes us want to holler!

The most negelected record of the year, unlikely to be topped by anything? This. No--I know what you're thinking. It really is good. Almost as good as John Holt's Police In Helicopter, and though we like almost everyrthing Henry "Junjo" Lawes (RIP) did, the Don Carlos record is just B-list Uhuru. (Why do incredibly talented musicians get shot?)

Posted by Sasha at 07:26 PM | TrackBack



The latest Mixing Desk has been up for almost a week, but mostly we just wanted to post another picture.

We really can't find any information on the affichistes in English. And we'd really like to know if the pictures should be bigger or smaller. Or what.

Posted by Sasha at 04:51 PM | TrackBack



A great piece by Michael Bracewell on interviewing Mark E. Smith in front of many people. Bracewell's England Is Mine is worth your time. The Nineties, less so.

My time is now The Man's. I will appear from 10 AM to 1 PM for the next four weeks, save three holidays, charged with the duty of determining, in concert with my peers, whether or not cases are worthy of jury by trial.

I am not allowed to bring a camera or discuss details of any cases.
So, it's Link Time! To that end, look right and you will discover new web kernels.


Posted by Sasha at 02:49 PM | TrackBack



The Man has told me that grand jury duty begins today. Their idea? Four weeks of half days, $40 per day. My idea? We don't do this.

Predicted high temperature today of 77 degrees. Apocalypse, what's really good?

Posted by Sasha at 08:28 AM | TrackBack

November 02, 2003


English people take on Missy.

Ended the evening sipping red wine, playing chess with Sam and listening to Remain In Light. Heaven will simply be further away. This excellent site has information about the upcoming Talking Heads box set, Once In A Lifetime, and though I will buy it, I'd rather see the three-toed sloths at Warner Brothers just remaster and reissue all the Heads, Gang of Four, Beefheart and be done with it. Back in the age of the physical artifact, this idea had a chance. Now? No.




Posted by Sasha at 08:03 PM | TrackBack

the window opened, crust




Looking for good websites on les affichistes and, like I said, literature, poetry or political blogs outside the clusterfuck. If you have input to input, please leave it in the comments section or email me directly. I am also looking for George Perec sites and a good history of crème brûlée.

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Posted by Sasha at 05:02 PM | TrackBack




I was looking for a poem to put up but I couldn't find anything I liked on the interweb. If I wasn't so sleepy, I'd transcribe Piero Heliczer's "england." If you have it, read it, little by little, glancing at the screen between lines. That'll make your day.

We rode home with a woman who finished the marathon in 3 hrs and 42 minutes. She did not see Diddy.

Posted by Sasha at 04:55 PM | TrackBack