Best If We Don't Stand Up

Did you know? The Lucksmiths are in town tonight. It's a happy occasion, & far too rare!

& the KOOP Membership Drive continues apace. According to our website, we're at 36,000 - which means we're very close. Pledging during my show will not only give me happy shivers, but will also help the station end the drive early. So you can get back to your regularly scheduled listening. Oh boy!

We adopted a new child last week, as I detailed here, & he has already decided he doesn't respect my authority. He loves running around like an idiot, though, which makes him one of the family.

I'm not feeling terribly clever right now, but my show will be cleverly delicious tomorrow. Maybe I'll even find something nice to say here.

Instead, you can read a great column by Sam Harris. I love him.

Whither Marc Bolan & T Rex?

I love Marc Bolan. I love that he's born to boogie. I love his hippy-dippy shit & I love his crazy rock & roll songs. It's the essence of rock & roll to me. Idiosyncratic, sexy, danceable, singable, swingable. I love him so much I named one of my cats Bolan.

He died thirty years ago, killed in a car, & we lost a lot. "Life's a gas," he sang, "I hope it lasts." It doesn't, but how rare that someone can give as much to the world as Marc Bolan!

So I am celebrating him. It's also KOOP's Membership Drive. You know. Give us money. But even if you don't, know that this unbeliever is sharing something with you that's as sacred as it gets.

Preface To The Marc Bolan/T Rex Tribute: Crystals In The Urine?!?!

This is a strange & lovely collection of found photos of one woman.

I had a best friend in first grade but though he & I continued for ten more years of school together, we weren't as close as at the first. He disappeared I think around ninth grade, but we were barely more than acquaintances by then. Strangely enough, as in a weird Dickens' chapter, I ran into him in my third year of college. We became friends again, probably better friends than even first grade.

He lived in a big Austin house (rented) with squeaky hardwood floors & high ceilings, with two or three other dudes. One of them was a very big fellow who wouldn't have been out of place as the scary fat guy at a frat party, who told me once that, if you have have sex by rubbing your penis between a woman's breasts, it's called "the Hawaiian muscle fuck." (It looks like the Urban Dictionary agrees with him.) His other roommate was a skinny dude with a comical face who had apparently been to England once so he spoke with a fakey British accent & used obscure British words like "woofter" & "dosh." I don't remember either of their names.

What I do remember is the anglophile had a T Rex tape which had "Jeepster" on it (& since I liked Bowie, I already owned Electric Warrior), but also tons of other stuff that sounded nothing like the T Rex Bang A Gong rocker I knew. Later I'd find this stuff was by "Tyrranosaurus Rex," but it charmed me immensely. I stole the tape. I needed a reference point for what I'd be looking for. Anglophile suspected but had no proof.

That's when I fell in love with Marc Bolan, that tape, with songs about wizards & cats & child stars & abyssinia & apple girls & finding a little wood & having a little sleep. The tape's gone, & I haven't thought about my friend's roommates in many years. My friend is happily married with two kids.

I'm not sorry I stole the tape, though. I am sorry I lied to my friend about stealing the tape. I wonder if he even likes T Rex?

If I Wore A Weapon Like My Dear Old Dad

What did he wear? You mean, under the apron?

I am very sleepy because of the new life in our house, whose name is Winston, & who looks like this:



He's only three months old. He likes to play.

If you like to play old Self Help Radio shows, you may listen to last Friday's show over at selfhelpradio.net. Remember, KOOP is still having a pledge drive, so there'll be some beggin' within. I hope it makes you give my favorite radio station lots of money!.

I'm sorry I dozed off. I am sleepy. But if I wore a weapon, like my dear old dad...