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You know, last blog I said I wasn’t going to go down the negative road. I wasn’t going to preach anymore about these horrible times and just focus on the good.
Fuck that shit now!!!
We have just elected a corporate fascist clone of Il Duce and it’s going to be rough!! We can weather the storm of bad governing-we do it all of the time. We can also weather the storm of partisan politics, we’ve done that as well. But America has never had a true ideologue like Trump in power before, and it is fucking dangerous.
Check it out.
I doesn’t matter if he’s proven wrong on something, it doesn’t matter if he lies and doesn’t care. If he spews hate rhetoric and divisive racist remarks, they have no effect negatively on him. What matters are that his followers-and I say followers because this is now a cult of personality-will do his bidding. They will follow him gladly to the hall of glory, gun in hand singing the Battle Hymn of the Republic.
He will take us to war with Islam and the whole rest of the non-Christian world. Don’t believe me…just look at who elected him. Looked at who backed him. The “Alt Right”, neo nazis, White people who believe they’ve been done wrong by a world that naturally is coloring. This is passions last dance for them and they are not going to give it up so easily.
Not today, Not tomorrow, but most definitely in his first term.
I realize I sound like an alarmist and my mother would say-listen to my dermatologist everyday will be just like the last. But republicans love war. Republicans love the war machine (and not the dude from Iron Man). It feeds the corporate brotherhood of military-industrial cabals that have suffered during the Obama administration.
Children who are not born yet will have more rights than women will. It will be open season for cops on African-Americans. Cats will sleep with dogs-But the LGBT community will be prevented from marriage and equal rights. Sharia law-or his version of it, will be the law of the land.
We will become everything we hate and we will do it with a smile, wink and a nod.
I said it here, today November 9th 2016.
Selah the rev
So I’m not the poster child for the mourning crowd. Never have been, never will be. I believe in the wheel. It carries us from life to life and from moment to moment. It allows us the ability to get through the tough times and reminds us all, that the good pass as well. The wheel turns whether we want it to or not. So my question is;
Do you enjoy spinning?
Come party with us at the Brick and Mortar this Saturday August 27th starting at 8 pm. It’s my way to say goodbye to those who have passed and hello to those yet to come. LordRifa will be welcoming some new members and new songs. We will be joined by our friends the High Card Drifters as well.
It will be a rocking night of NEW AMERICANA!
Yesterday my brother, Saul Bloom, passed away. He died as a result of a 2 year long battle with brain cancer…He lost.
I wonder if anybody actually wins this battle, regardless of length of survival
it is a bitch of a disease and leaves only a trail of hurt.
But I digress into the technical.
Saul Bloom, nee Donald Ira Saleman, died in the loving embrace of his family and friends. He was 62 years old.
I pulled this off of a website…
Saul Bloom was the director of ARC/Ecology in San Francisco where he has been deeply involved in local military base decommissioning, ecological and economic agitation, and working for environmental and social justice.
Arc Ecology is a public interest nonprofit organization providing technical assistance and advocacy work on behalf of poor and disadvantaged communities in the areas of the environment, public health, economic development, urban planning, housing, military facilities and policy in the San Francisco Bay Area and internationally.
He got his start with Greenpeace in the late 1970s and was instrumental in the fight against the home porting of the USS Missouri in the 1980s. Part of the Shaping San Francisco “Ecology Emerges” oral history project, documenting the arc of environmental activism from conservation to environmental justice, 1960s to the present.
It’s concise and covers the salient points of his life,but he was more. Saul in his heart, was a musician, a guitar player and composer. He played around San Francisco with his band “The Blooms”, which he loved almost much as his family. It gave him an abundance of pure joy.
He started out playing in the coffee house scenes in NYC in the 70’s. Big head of hair and a feather in his ear. He would play wherever they would have him. He was good.
When I was young, I wanted to be him-minus the hair and feather of course. He seemed to me to be like a modern troubadour hitchhiking his way across the northeast with a backpack and a guitar.
While my love of storytelling and music came form the heavens and hells, my love of guitar playing came from Saul-he bought me my first guitar.
Saul is survived by his family- his wife Nehr, his children, Maria and Sarah, his mother Charlotte, oh and his cat, Sunny. Saul loved his cats!
But to be honest, I’m not really sure how to write one of these things. How do you encapsulate 62 years of affecting the world around you into a page? So let me just say this:
I loved and hated Saul, which is appropriate for brothers of the blood.
He had the ability of making me see red with just a look. He also was a huge force in shaping me to be who I am.
I will miss him more than I can fathom.
He took the mouse.
Hey All, I just wanted to turn everyone on to this Awesome web series that we have had the honor to score.
Crime Drama, Cop Story, Hot Actors, Evil Empire and San Francisco. What else does one need?
From the mind of the great Film Maker Kerwin Berk……….Gold Mountain
Since I was a kid I have always wondered, what man would look like, a millennia in the future. How could I not? Since I first appeared on this earth man/woman has been essentially the same, arms, legs feet, hands, toes all in proportional alignment.
But in this lifetime, as a avid consumer of baby boom science fiction, I was raised to believe that man would have this Gigantic bald noggin with nasty veins that throb incessantly sticking out of his head. All to accommodate his enormous brain.
We were given to believe that man would become so smart, that naturally his head would expand.
Wrong!!! Not just wrong, but so far from right, that there is only left.
Man is going to look like Quasimodo. For those of you unfamiliar with the works of Victor Hugo, Quasimodo was the “Hunchback of Notre Dame”.
A big freaky looking guy with a hunch the size of a basketball between his shoulders. A dark furrowed brow and a vocabulary of a child. He was shunned by the world for his deformity and lived his sad lonely life in the abbey ringing the bells for the priests.
Let me make something perfectly clear- I mean no disrespect to any living being today struck with the terrible malady of Kyphosis nor any person of middle eastern descent, unfortunate enough to be blessed with one big eyebrow.
None what-so-ever. I wish you the best in your life and loves.
But we as a species, are pointed in that direction like an arrow to a target.
Don’t believe me? Let’s see if I can help elucidate this problem and then you can judge for yourself.
Let me know what you find out, am I right or am I wrong?
Everyday-wait no, every hour of everyday- here in my-used to be-fair city by the bay, I see hundreds of people walking around hunched over, completely oblivious to the world around them. Ears plugged, eyes bulging and squinting to see the tiny screen. All of them busy fingering what I could only describe as a form of tactile lover. Caressing it to the banishment of the world around them. This is how we communicate today. This is how we get information today. This is how we have sex today. This is how we will look tomorrow.
But the way… we will no longer have hands either!
What you say…Impossible! Outrageous!……No…The Future!!
Yup…we will no longer have hands, they will be replaced by these mitten like claws that only have opposable thumbs. Picture a lobster wearing oven mitts with a golf ball on it’s back and a caterpillar on its eyeballs.
The sad truth about the Quasimodo comparison, is that he was so hard of hearing, he didn’t mind ringing the gigantic church bells of Notre Dam, and by today’s standards most of Americans will also be that as well. They will be deaf to all around except for what they hear in their tiny little ear buds. Maybe it’s more like the Cybermen from Doctor who, only hearing the sounds their masters allow.
Speaking of masters, I was watching a cooking show last night-one where they actually cooked and not just ran around like a bunch of morons, all for the benefit of the camera.
Greater intelligence they said….????
But I digress….the show was broadcast from Kangaroo Island which is off of the south coast of Australia. They had just pulled some Crawfish out of a local river bed and were going to grill them “on the barbie”. Now these Crawfish, they were terrified. They knew something bad was going to happen when the big hand snatched them out of their peaceful lovely creek. The cooks that were fishing on the show, just laughed about their predicament and talked about how sweet their tail and back meat was going to taste.
Well needless to say they were cooked alive-as is tradition in that part of the world-and enjoyed by all. Well almost all!
But I wonder….is there some great hand in the sky putting us on the path for their barbie?
Will someone in our future say-Gee this hump will taste so sweet once we dip it into butter?
We live in the time of great juxtaposition. Things that never should be seen walking down the street together, are now in bed, entangled in a lover’s Gordian knot.
It’s more than cats and dogs living in harmony!
It’s more then love and hate for the same being!
It’s more than liking both Taylor Swift and Kanye Kardashian!
It’s the battle of the impersonal vs. the personal. For eons and I mean eons, we as a species have generally migrated away from singular activities in favor of the community….
Fuck this, I want to digress a bit! I want to talk about regret.
It’s something I swore I never had or ever will have. In my hubris of existence, I walked around claiming, “If I did it, I did it and it added to the sum total of who, that is me”!
What a croc of hippy metaphysical bullshit!
Yes I regret. There it is in print, in the air, to the world and as a declaration to both god’s of the underworld and heaven, you’ve won. All of you regretting bastards, who suck up to self-pity like a sycophantic sponge. I am now one of you. I can look at my life and finally think, I regret some things in this life.
No, Fook u?
No, Fook me!
The problem is, as soon as these bold and meaningful words leave my fingers and hit the keys, I feel the lifting of that mood. It is as if I have confessed my sins and the confession-the public confession (because a quiet conversation with just god and myself would not have had the same impact on me as this)-has cleansed me of my regret for now.
I am so easily manipulated by myself (as well as others, it seems).
The personal dilemma of my regret as communicated to you the reader, has delivered this emotion into the world. The world of the Personal/Impersonal and has become meaningless. It no longer lives in me. I can look at it, see it, understand it, but it is not in me.
But I finally begin to understand what the modern allure of the impersonal is today. We can say or feel anything we want to and once we air it to the world we release it from our psyches. Who needs priests?
I guess it’s why I write-no actually, I write because I am a total egomaniacal clown who actually believes in his heart that god/devil gives a shit and listens to him rant.
I guess for others there is Facebook or #whatever.
But the impersonal/personal battle is real. We are looking for things that are utterly personal. Love, companionship, communication, friendship and we search for them in the most impersonal ways via the broad strokes of online meat markets and the cattle calls of the web.
We now have personal shoppers who will find us anything in the world at the touch of an app. But we can’t take the time to talk with people directly. We text, we email, we electronically poke and prod.
What did we do before the personal device? How did we live? How did we exist in this impersonal world with the only thing that mattered, our personal feelings?
In science fiction we used to think that the human head would grow monstrously large to fit our massive brains. Big bulbous foreheads they predicted, with huge veins to move oceans of blood into our skulls. But they were quite mistaken.
As we walk down the street today we can finally see the new shape of mankind. From monkey to human, from human to hunchback. All of us glued to our personal devices.
But that’s what is not making me regretful now.
While reading the Sunday Chronicle –yes, I still like to read the physical paper-I came across a small article about the city of Chibok in Nigeria. It had just been taken over by the Boko Haram insurgent group causing the citizens to run for their lives.
If you don’t remember who these folks are, let me remind you. They are the group who kidnapped the 300 schoolgirls from the self same town in April of this year.
When asked about the girls in a video interview.. well here is the exact quote;
“Boko Haram leader Abubakar Shekau in a video released last month said the girls were “an old story,” that they all had converted to Islam and been married off to his fighters.”
An old story, sitting on page 3 of the useless Sunday Chronicle. Buried beneath a pound of Christmas ads, stories of crab boats and architecture.
I regret that I am not powerful enough to make any meaningful change in these girls’ lives.
I regret that very much.
The regret that personal truth of their plight has become the impersonal nature of our media. I regret that Michael Jackson took more media time then they did.
I pray for them and their safe release. I pray for their families and the forthcoming children from their marriages.
I pray for our backs.
Granted this is not the most original title but I thought “Pussies”could say the wrong thing. But As long as we are on the topic, let’s talk about Pussies-Not Pussy-But Pussies.
Although, I love pussy-Don’t we all?
I hate Pussies, Again-Don’t we all?
Barring the obvious sexist reference to being weak and all of the bullshit that comes along with the female attachment of the word, I love it. It says a lot with very little effort.
It’s not about women. It’s not about men. It’s about humans who have no courage. OK, now that I’ve cleared that up and dictionary.com can change the entry….I can rant on!
Pussies haven’t got the balls to do what’s right. Pussies shrink away from the hard road to lay back on the couch and let others make the hard decisions. Pussies cannot look you in the face and tell you the truth. Pussies sit in the middle of the fight and wait to see who wins.
Switzerland- Full of them!
In life, you have to take sides-even if you’re wrong! Because it is better to be wrong with the urge to fight for what’s right, (Also having the ability to grow from change doesn’t hurt either ), then sit on the sidelines and wait for the crumbs to fall.
What I hate most about Pussies, is that they hide in full view behind those of us who are willing to fight the fight. Then at the end, come out with the chant of how brave we are, or worse-to quote Mr. hunter, “They steal your face right off your head”.
Pussies, Flacid bastards….I need to use another analogy string!!
The truth of the matter is, that all there really is in this life, is the courage of conviction. Loyalty, family and passion are the pillars of the existence that we eek out of this fog. It is a great pleasure for me to be able to be loyal, to stand up and look you in the eye and know that I have acted justly towards you, walking in the light of the dawn, and it pains me when I break these vows of truth. There is no grey area here for me, simply put-there is a line not to be crossed. I cannot speak of retribution from the heavens, nor can I place contracts out on people’s heads. (As much as that sounds like fun). I can only know in my heart that the words I speak, are forever tied to the actions of my heart and in that, I am a seeker of truth-The truth of the three edged sword.
I am that line and I have no time for pussies.
I have traveled for many a mile in this desert. This wasteland of pity and loathing, and have finally come out to what I would love to call the promise land, but in reality it is just a room in a hall. To me though, it is the end of a long journey and the start of a new one.
I can’t promise you that I will know more than I do.
I can’t say to you, the lord told me thusly!
I can only speak from my heart-the one that the heavens in their divine madness have given me. And in this heart, is the promise of fealty, for it is not just the heavens that I serve, but you my brothers and sisters.
Find me in the depths of hell with those who fight, rather than the kingdom of heaven with those who watch.
I have finished my first week of a two week run with the amazing sketch comedy troupe “Killing My Lobster” and I have to say, it’s pretty fucking funny. I have never worked with comedian/actors in this manner before and I find it to be a total eye opening experience. I stand in the back, behind all these props and machines and make noises, play music, utter unintelligible things in the mic and people seem to laugh.
The timing between the actors and myself is also a different beast from what I’m used to. I wait for them and they wait for the audience to respond before they move on. Be it a chuckle, belly laugh or silence. In the music and preaching world, I just charge on and wait for nothing, except maybe the hand of god to come and kick my ass. Sometimes, my drummer thinks it’s his job-and maybe it is!. But we just keep charging on and passing the conceptual ball around the band until we are done with it and say to the audience,
What do you think?
But in this format the interplay between the stage and the audience is instantaneous.
No laugh, No Glory.
Big Laugh, Full house tomorrow.
It’s exciting to live and die on every sentence, utterance and facial movement. Not for me of course because they do all of the heavy lifting in this project-and I give them all of the props they deserve, because they ARE lifting heavy items and are making them seem effortlessly funny.
So we have only one more week left-Four shows- to see this wonderful moment in time, before it fades into memory. Come and see it. Be part of the creation of a moment, part of the ebb and flow of art, part of something that you can effect the outcome-for better or for worse.
Exciting isn’t it?