Happy New Year To All

My sincere wishes for a prosperous, healthy...and better 2009.

;>)

Presented as a service to the hearing impaired

Happy belated birthday, Lemmy.

;>)

Hope's Monkey Trial

Straight Life

R.I.P., Mr. Hubbard.

Let's Make A Beautiful Day

Sunday Overnight - One for Utah

Bill Evans, The Universal Mind of Bill Evans, '66.

And in a fall day's living room, 1970...

R.I.P. Delaney Bramlett

When the battle is over, come on in my kitchen and let it rain.

Via con Dios

Emperor Short One

One Day In The Life Of Ivan Blagojevich

...for driftglass.

;>)

For All Those Boxing Day Bargain Hunters

...Not me, boyos.



What, Am I buying?
Bills, hi cashier
Charge, live off credit
Hell, Hell is here

;>)

Hold Your Fire For The Holidays

I (along with Digby and others I am sure) entreat and implore you cats and kittens in Internetland...



;>)

Christmas Future

Christmas...present

Christmas Past #2

They watch you when you're sleeping
They know when you're awake
They know if you've been bad or good
So be good for goodness' sake

;>)

Christmas Past #1

The Official Portrait

Rediscover Communication

What, Me Hope?

The Most Bogus Excuse For A Zappadan Post Ever

There's nothing quite like some overblown Glam cock rock to make me misty for the old days.

sniff

And besides, Warren DeMartini and Dweezil had an admiration thing, IIRC...

;>)

The Grassy Sole

...Whatcha gonna do when yer throwin' those shoes

;>)

A seasonal PSA from your pal, darkblack

Please don't imbibe and drive, and remember to use a designated driver for all those social functions that require lubrication.

The life you save might be mine. Or yours.

...And a hearty laurel and holiday handshake to my visitors from the mighty Crooks & Liars, via the auspices of indie blogging queen and unindicted co-conspirator Blue Gal.

;>)

Frank And Beans

...One of the house specials (along with the Desenex Burger) of those fine chefs at The Aristocrats, home of Zappadan.

'Where the deinen heissen gelockten is never too burnt'

;>)

Ye Olde Master Painter

...working in the Neo-revisionist style.

;>)

For some former employers of mine...

Judgement day is coming, boys...Better get right.

;>)

What State Are You In?

Definitely not 'Denial'.

;>)

Get A Load Of Thee

Da Doo Rod Rod

Lest We Forget

All The Way, That's The Way They Go

With such catchy teenage ditties as...

;>)

Apologies to Neon Park, wherever you are

Music Is Best

Coda

I don't like to leave on downbeat notes...The disciplines of my former profession never die, I suppose.

Thank you to all my fellow bloggers, viewers and correspondents this week. I was deeply touched by an outpouring of goodwill that I really had no clue existed, and I am wealthy in ways that I had never dreamed of for it.

To those of you who wished to donate money to me via this blog, a special thanks for your most gracious offerings.

However, as I have secured some type of employment in this last week, I must most respectfully decline your generosities, as it would not be right in my view to take where there is no need.

Be seeing you

;>)

Bon chance, et adieu

In the wake of an historic election, I would like to congratulate America for a choice which may well mean the survival of all that we know.
It will mean hard, unceasing work and a strong test of your national character, but the potential rewards are galactic in scope.

Some may wonder how it was that I developed such a keen interest in America, and its politics.
At the risk of becoming unentertainingly autobiographical, allow me to fill in a few gaps.

My grandfather was American by birth, and there were family members who lived there. Consequently, unlike many Canadian children of my era, there wasn't a whole lot of anti-American table talk reinforced by the national inferiority complex.
America was a mystical land to me, where power and wealth resided and the 'big people' in my family visited frequently and pleasantly. I dreamed of perhaps living there someday.

I was 9 years old in the summer of Watergate. Per my latchkey child ways, I loved watching garbage daytime television...Soaps, game shows, whatever.
Not very discriminating, I know, but in the days of pre-cable TV you took what was offered.
Unfortunately for this idyll, the specter of preemption arose for my escapist fare, and the substitution was some boring courtroom-type thing where adults droned on and on over audiotapes filled with 'hanky panky'.

At first, I was dismayed...No Secret Storm, or The Price Is Right, or Bugs Bunny?

Oh, the humanity. But because there were only three channels in town, I watched...A young mind cast into a cauldron of high intrigue. And I became fascinated by the opened curtain on the corridors of power.

As a teenager and young adult, this interest in the tinkertoys of governance continued to grow. A voracious reader, I consumed Fear and Loathing On The Campaign Trail '72 by Hunter Thompson when I was 14, among other tomes on the political sciences...This certainly filled in some knowledge gaps in both my appreciation of American politics as well as the burgeoning drug culture of the times, a useful reference for what was to come.

As a traveling musician in the 80's and 90's, I spent a good deal of time in America, and in fact lived in L.A. for a time...One of the happier idylls in my hejira.
In fact,I almost remained in the U.S. as a permanent fixture - Not that I was disloyal to Canada per se, but in the entertainment field, then as now, you didn't really make it unless you made it in the States.

Opportunities were abundant, but a lifestyle (as opposed to a deathstyle) change was in order, and being a new father in a tempestuous relationship required that I find another trade to ply, one which would allow me to be a presence in my spouses and childrens lives, as opposed to a disembodied voice on a telephone calling from thousands of miles away or an epigrammatic postcard.

Sadly, this change was not for the better, and I began the 21st century with divorce, living in a shoebox with whatever personal goods I could salvage from a relationship torn asunder.
The classic quote: "I don't like men. I like to f*ck them, but I don't like them".
Thanks for not telling me that 10 years previously, wherever you ended up.

My instruments collected dust, and I filled the days with menial labor, another burned-out never-was who missed their shot at the brass hole. Then a friend, knowing my affinity for technology, gave me an old computer with which I could access the developing Internet.

Eleven years before, I would scoff at my roommates busily tap-tapping away on keyboards about the weather and people they hated - Now, alone in a coffin of my own choosing, I became one of those people, but instead of blathering on about rain or that asshole in the next cube over, it was current events and politics that captured my mind and clacking fingers...For example, the new American president who had obtained the post by lawyerly, as opposed to popular means, and his retinue of shady characters from the Reagan/Nixon eras. This passed the time while I attempted to heal the wounds on my psyche.

It took 9/11/01 to get me to play again. I was so shocked and distraught by that day, concerned for my long-distant friends living in the shadow of the Twin Towers and the senseless carnage provided by an unblinking eye under silent skies, that all I could do was cry out from my soul in the only way that ever made any sense to me.

After that...well, we all know what happened after that - The sort of malfeasant opportunism that anyone with a sense of history and political imperatives could have predicted, cloaked in cynically jingo-jangling chauvinism.

Predictable? Yes. Avoidable? No. Destiny rarely is.

It might surprise some of my readers to know that I do not make my living with computers in the graphic arts, or in any other form. I'm highly trained in many disciplines with no market potential, I suppose. When I first started working with Photoshop, there were few who mined this particular vein of expression, and now there are many more choosing to express themselves in this way.

'May your paths be strewn with thornless roses'

The concept behind this blog from its inception was to provide opinionated yet hopefully entertaining content, but unlike pundits receiving lucre for their gaseous exchanges a certain purity should be maintained - Aspiring merely to be a single opinion among many, with which one was free to disagree or agree as was their wont, and I have always been amazed and gratified that so many people have looked upon my works with a favorable eye.

To each one of you, I give my deepest thanks and hopes for a better tomorrow, not only in your personal lives but in the lives of all the peoples of the world. May it be so.

And now, I think it is time to move on.
Financial issues (the bane of many of you, I am sure) dictate that my attentions be focused elsewhere, perhaps permanently.
If I am fortunate enough to return in some fashion, I will...but if fate should dictate otherwise, then this blog will stand for whatever period as my meager testament to a thimbleful of time shared.

Pax

;>(

Sweet Dreams, Neocons

Looks like America decided to take a pass on your death trip, chumps.

It's a new day.

Time For The Wild Party

Happy Election Day, America

And remember...

You can pick your friends.

You can pick your nose.

...But you can't pick your friend's nose.



;>)

Oh Sidney, I Thought You Could Sow Putsch

R.I.P. Jimmy Carl Black

Time waits for no one

Adios, and respects to the bereaved.

Sunday Overnight

Phil Woods and Lee Konitz, And When We Were Young, Germany, 1968.



Glen Gray and the Casa Loma Orchestra, Smoke Rings, 1932.

Two Nitwit Morning

The Blue Garden

She got me when she got her dress on

;>)

McRage

Ah, The Frights Gone By

For those of us who struggle with last minute costume ideas...

Things can be surprisingly quick and easy.



And of course, one could always find something more ornately apropo:





There are many who like a touch of levity:



...And couples who wish to explore their secret desires.



Perhaps some would like to pay tribute to a pop group of the day:



However you choose to advertise your inner self, have a safe event, and please don't play any juvenile pranks...if you can help it.



;>)

Is It True That I'm No Longer Young?

Depends

;>)

Born with a silver spoon but never a greasy heart, who's seen a time for love and a time for letting it be...And now, she paints the parade.

Happy birthday, Grace Slick.

Flash In The Plan

"Five minutes, Mister DeLay!"

Now, Tom, you go too far with the comedy.

Besides, who cares if he's a Marxist?

After all, consider the source.

Now, make America laugh, funnyman

;>)

Like A Good Guy Does

The End, My Friends

He's old, and his skin is cold...The end of laughter, and soft lies.

Sunday Overnight

Sonny Rollins, Don Cherry, Billy Higgins and Henry Grimes, 52nd Street Theme, Rome, 1963.



The Miles Davis Quintet, Walkin', 1967.

Jazz Because

Merl Saunders, Aunt Monk, 1974.

Condolences to his family and friends.

Clown Shoes Don't Make It

Dogheart Polytricksters No Seh Truth

Irie, children, rub-a-dub style with brethren Max & The Marginalized...calling out Babylon and the bloodclot bald-head downpressors with Hounds.

Purple Heart Bandaid, Stat

Oh, the humanity

;>)

Fish Out Of Luck

Oh Baby, Save My Soul, I Just Couldn't Wait For You

MC5, Skunk (Sonically Speaking).

Dolschtosser

R.I.P., the Human Tornado

Sorry to hear of the passing of Rudy Ray Moore, a/k/a Dolemite ('Who?') and Petey Wheatstraw...The man who made them dance.

;>)

(links NSFW)

The First Generation That's Learned To Fight

'My friends', Max and the Marginalized have embarked on a new fantastic voyage to share with us.

But first, A toast...To Your Health.




Be sure to download their latest release,
The John McCain LP ...at a computer convenient to you.

;>)

That Old Blackface Magic

A couple of years back, I was a racist.

Well, not really...But a highly publicized work of mine trafficked in racist imagery, and by doing so utterly devalued a larger point that I was attempting to make. For that error in judgement, I alone am responsible.

At the time, this circumstance sufficed to provoke some whose agendas I agreed with (and some with whom I did not) into a heated discussion of my character and motivations.

Most of this dialog was as accurate as any conjecture could be regarding an individual cloaked in the anonymity of the Internet, yet although some words that were 'intended to wound' indeed left their mark I eventually healed up and moved on, resolving to learn from the experience and avoid a repetition of the same lack of sensitivity toward others.

Since that time, I have noticed that in spite of the publicity surrounding that event (a brief, but rather loud ballyhooing not only within the then-limited confines of the blogosphere, but also within numerous organs of the mainstream media), others continue to insist on using that same imagery replete with its historically negative connotations whenever they wish to disparage something or someone whom they disagree with.

One could draw a simplistic conclusion from this, I suppose - that, given a chance not to dabble in exponentially hurtful material, some insist on their right to be ignorant, racist fucks regardless of the consequences.

I find it a somewhat discomfiting fact in the West that some of the so-called 'visual pundit' class appear all too willing to continually use 'blackface' (and this time,on a black man) as a marginalization stratagem toward denigrating an individual's well-reasoned philosophical choice - and when pressed on it, find themselves completely unable to justify said usage. Qu'elle surprise!

To imply that one is a traitor, and purblindedly ethnocentric, merely for casting their own lot between two starkly opposed alternatives, shows a philosophy distinctly bereft of the critical thinking skills needed to survive the oncoming hard times brought about by years of deliberately malfeasant Right wing governance.

Good luck with that evolutionary strategy, assholes.

Red Hot Running Mate

...apologies to the great Tex Avery.

;>)

Sunday Overnight

A taste of the Roaring 20's with Jelly Roll Morton, Hesitation Blues.



...and Count Basie with his 1953 lineup, Softly With Feeling...R.I.P., Mr. Neal Hefti, here playing Repetition with Bird on alto, 1947.

Hey, Mavericky

Still Water (Peace)

R.I.P., Mr. Stubbs.

Can't Touch This

John McCain Was A...

...POW.

;>)



"My friends", our friends Max & The Marginalized have released a fine platter for your perusal (and earned themselves a hearty repast after 52 songs in 52 weeks - mission accomplished, gentlemen).

Here's a little sample - Teflon John.



Show them some love, and don't forget to vote - like Canada did.

F*ckin' snowbacks

;>)

Jazz Because

from 'Charlie Parker With Strings', Just Friends.

Was it only 4 years ago

...Really?

;>)