Gentle Cheese, In The Motherly Fashion

I was going to call this post "You phone-fuck like a faggot," because I was incautiously listening to the Kathy McGinty pranks at work today, but I thought you might get offended. So I won't. I don't even know what it means. I would think, actually, that homosexual men, being generally more sexually experimental than I am (& I am for the purpose of this useless conversation a representative of heterosexual men all throughout the world & time), would probably phone-fuck much better than I could or do (& I don't really phone-fuck) (I never have, actually), & therefore the comment is kind of a compliment. Unless you're offended by the word "faggot." I don't mean to use the word to offend, but in the world today, most people don't really care about intent. Words are scary. They get people angry. Some people would prefer you not even use some of them.

My own opinion is that context is everything. It's like an episode of a cop show where a hero cop is being accused of being corrupt or sexually assaulting someone or something, & the cop's superior says, "Well I've known Officer Blah for twenty years & he's never been accused of this, & so I doubt this accusation has merit." That makes total sense to me. Why jump to conclusions? Why not stand by your friends & colleagues? But most of the time people assume bad things. I think it's because we're insecure & believe even the people we're sure love us hate us. Get someone to accuse you of something awful & make sure they're able to be completely serious, & target someone you think would stand beside you through thick & thin. Nine times out of ten, only a little coaxing will make your closest friends suspect the worst about you.

No, don't do that. It's life-shattering. Instead, keep reading this blog for advice that won't be at all helpful.

I'm sure I meant to talk about something else today. But instead I feel like I've been accused of something awful, & you believe every word of it. That's what I get for dreaming of having a chest tube put in!

Whither Indiepop A To Z # 11?

As the year comes to a close, my yearly promise to do an indiepop a to z every two months can also be seen as coming to a close. Or can it? Am I married to this? I am just at a Cs! What the hell?

I was thinking how much fun it would be to maintain multiple lines of stuff like this - "Country Blues A To Z" or "Electronica A To Z" or "1960s European Garage Rock A To Z." I wouldn't get any sleep at all.

But I can do it twice more this year, & maybe into the next year. I think I'm planning on it. I quite enjoy it.

Oh, & I know this Friday will be the FIRST week of November & not the LAST week of October, but I have always done a Halloween show, so I bumped the IPA2Z for a week. Didn't you love the zombie show? Then shut the hell up.

There is some BIG or possibly SAD or maybe just HUH! news about Self Help Radio coming up, but I'll wait until next week to tell it. I am simply padding my blog because I feel like I must write about two hundred words a day or else I won't be allowed to be considered a "writer" by my pretentious friends. I think I'm there, so now I need to go draw a couple of pages of a little pig walking to be considered an "animator" by my dorky friends. It's too bad there's nothing other than smoking I can do to be considered a "smoker" by my cool friends. Rats!

Preface To Indiepop A To Z # 11 - I Am Dumb

Oh, rats, I meant to write earlier & tell everyone that I was going to be on KVRX tonight, on the wonderful King Philip XII & Kimriffic Hour, & I was, but telling you now - since I didn't record it & KVRX doesn't archive it - is stupid. I am dumb.

Much thanks to Kim & to Philip for having this old KVRXer back in their building on their air waves. It has literally been over eight years since I had a show there & over seven since I set foot in any station called "KVRX." One of the first things I did when I walked in was find a CD I reviewed in 1994. It was a Julian Cope CD.

We talked about witches, & KOOP, & KVRX, & drug laws, & Casper the Friendly Ghost, & whether King Philip XII should have a court jester &... Well, I'm sorry you missed it. It's all my fault.

Rats. But I had such a great time, so yay! But I forgot to include you. Rats.

But yay!

When I Was Newer Waved

In the cold harbor town of Zelaot, two types of thugs rule the roost: 1) The mean kind. & 2) The asshole kind. The mean kind can be assholes, but the asshole kind are rarely mean.

It made it both hard & easy for Sheriff Dylan Lennon to show up & make the cold harbor town a warm place for the good citizens. You know, the ones who didn't lie, steal, cheat, murder, fart, cry, whoop it up, skiv, bear false witness, bear true witness, cannibalize, overcook, felch, frot or fail.

How did he do it? How did he destroy the obligatory Martian Cartel & save the small hamlet from roof rot? Easy! He used last Friday's episode of Self Help Radio!

Self Help Radio (tm) kills 99% of all household jerks DEAD. Or it could if it were made by Roctor & Bamble. Instead, it simply sounds a hell of a lot like the show as it aired the previous Friday.

Skeptical? You should be! The once-prosperous town of Zelaot sure was, & they fell into the sea!

Visit selfhelpradio.net to find out how you can make a radio show work for you.

No responsible for lost items or rare blood diseases. Consult your analyst before using Self Help Radio. For copyright reasons, this program is not available on the moon.