Ah, the good eleven. It never gave me any trouble until after nine.
Before anything is signed or notarized in today's self-serving blog entry, can I ask you: will you ever forgive me for forgetting you on Valentine's Day? I didn't give you hearts or candy or syphillis or even a lousy blog entry. It's not that I don't love you, baby. It's just that I am forgetful. I'm like a child, you know, before they learn spatial recognition or some such - I just don't think you exist if I can't see you. Not all the time, of course. Just when you expect something from me.
And. Now. Eleven more shows on KOOP. What can you expect? I promise you the same quality of programming you have come to expect from the Self Help Radio family of programs. I mean, I don't really imagine it could get much worse, could it? If there is a jump in quality (as if), you may attribute it to my desire to make the last programs I do for you on KOOP the best programs in the universe. But you know as well as I do that'll be a fluke.
Hey! Speaking of flukes! If you want to hear me get all jazzy like I did back in December, you can hear me sitting on the show Non-Breaking Space on Sunday at 5pm. Listen in!
& also listen today at 4:30 pm Central Standard Tamale live on the 91.7 fm frequency & on the interwebs at koop.org. A show about butchers by an ardent vegetarian. What could possibly be better?
Random thoughts & other unrelated information from the dude who does "Self Help Radio" - a radio show which originated in Austin, Texas & now makes noise in Portland, Oregon. Listen to new & old shows & look at playlists at selfhelpradio.net.
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Friday, February 15, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Whither Butchers?
It is not well-known how the themes get chosen for the Self Help Radio. Since the Self Help Radio is owned by the same mega-corporation which owns the Council on Foreign Relations Gift Shop, Illuminati-Masonry & Sons, & the Church Of Scientology (Reformed), I can't really tell you or I will have broken my non-disclosure agreement & some goons would come along & beat up my bicycle, but I can tell you that I got the order to - er, I mean, I conceived the idea of a show about butchers back in the carefree days of not long ago, when all the men were slightly surreptitious & all the women were harmonizing.
That is a long & confusing way of saying this: I had no idea that my show would coincide with the sad news of the death of the most famous butcher of my generation, Sam the Butcher from The Brady Bunch, whose occupation may have rattled his senses enough for him to be attracted to the disturbingly mannish maid Alice. The actor - who appeared all over the place on the television of my childhood - was named Allan Melvin & he died last month at the young age of 84.
I'm not sure if he alone would be enough to inspire a show. What did inspire the show? What moved me, a vegetarian for over twenty years, to devote ninety precious minutes to an occupation I find abhorrent? The answer may surprise you.
It was 1947, & I was a dashing young Lieutenant in His Majesty's Iraqi Occupation Army. You were the twinkie in your daddy's lunchbox. I had fallen asleep during the fifth siege of Basra that month & I had forgotten that Charlie was thick in the Bush. (Neil Bush, at that time.) Three or four members of the Greatest Generation were playing punkies off the side of the small wading pool &, with the DVD player not working, we used the discs to absent-mindedly chop tobacco & opium left outside by the Dutch Police who had visited the night before. Distracted, I almost met my end by friendly fire from an unfriendly woman who had neither asked nor told in That Man's Army. What saved me? Why did I not die?
A butcher was hacking away at some mystery meat in the shape of Dick Cheney when, due to the way Dick Cheney makes everyone's stomach churn, the butcher suddenly hurled, & his cleaver flew between me & the soldier, deflecting the bullet & making her (for whatever reason) believe that violence was not the answer. I think she decided that breakfast tacos were the answer. & I thank my lucky stars that, that day, I didn't die & I have a butcher to thank. Do you know when that happened? Or rather, when it will happen? That's right. February 15, 2143.
I celebrate that fateful day! Even if I loathe the practice! Now you know! Aren't you a nosy bastard!
That is a long & confusing way of saying this: I had no idea that my show would coincide with the sad news of the death of the most famous butcher of my generation, Sam the Butcher from The Brady Bunch, whose occupation may have rattled his senses enough for him to be attracted to the disturbingly mannish maid Alice. The actor - who appeared all over the place on the television of my childhood - was named Allan Melvin & he died last month at the young age of 84.
I'm not sure if he alone would be enough to inspire a show. What did inspire the show? What moved me, a vegetarian for over twenty years, to devote ninety precious minutes to an occupation I find abhorrent? The answer may surprise you.
It was 1947, & I was a dashing young Lieutenant in His Majesty's Iraqi Occupation Army. You were the twinkie in your daddy's lunchbox. I had fallen asleep during the fifth siege of Basra that month & I had forgotten that Charlie was thick in the Bush. (Neil Bush, at that time.) Three or four members of the Greatest Generation were playing punkies off the side of the small wading pool &, with the DVD player not working, we used the discs to absent-mindedly chop tobacco & opium left outside by the Dutch Police who had visited the night before. Distracted, I almost met my end by friendly fire from an unfriendly woman who had neither asked nor told in That Man's Army. What saved me? Why did I not die?
A butcher was hacking away at some mystery meat in the shape of Dick Cheney when, due to the way Dick Cheney makes everyone's stomach churn, the butcher suddenly hurled, & his cleaver flew between me & the soldier, deflecting the bullet & making her (for whatever reason) believe that violence was not the answer. I think she decided that breakfast tacos were the answer. & I thank my lucky stars that, that day, I didn't die & I have a butcher to thank. Do you know when that happened? Or rather, when it will happen? That's right. February 15, 2143.
I celebrate that fateful day! Even if I loathe the practice! Now you know! Aren't you a nosy bastard!
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Preface To Butchers: Flank Is A Funny Word
Actually, all the butcher-related words are pretty funny. "Meat." It even looks funny. How about "loin"? "Chop"? "Rashers" of "Bacon"? "Rack" of lamb? Just repeat after me: rump, round, brisket, poll, hock, ham, rump, belly & jowl. Har har har! Them's funny motherfucking words!
& everyone - except obese people - think the word "fat" is funny. Not phat, but funny.
Dude, you just ate a rump when you could've had a rack. Har har har!
I also totally love diagrams like this one - especially when they're in weird discotheque colors - which describe the names of the "parts" of the animal (in this case, the cow) that can be eaten. I guess meat-eaters will eat pretty much everything, so diagrams like this are for finicky western eyes only. Bon appetit!
Do you know if someone has done the same thing for humans? Any cannibals out there want to show us something similar? Damn! I wish I had the time to make one. Rats. I spent the day getting yelled at instead of being creative.
Why does a licensed vegetarian like myself want to do a show about butchers? Hey! Ask me tomorrow!
& everyone - except obese people - think the word "fat" is funny. Not phat, but funny.
Dude, you just ate a rump when you could've had a rack. Har har har!
I also totally love diagrams like this one - especially when they're in weird discotheque colors - which describe the names of the "parts" of the animal (in this case, the cow) that can be eaten. I guess meat-eaters will eat pretty much everything, so diagrams like this are for finicky western eyes only. Bon appetit!
Do you know if someone has done the same thing for humans? Any cannibals out there want to show us something similar? Damn! I wish I had the time to make one. Rats. I spent the day getting yelled at instead of being creative.
Why does a licensed vegetarian like myself want to do a show about butchers? Hey! Ask me tomorrow!
Monday, February 11, 2008
Love Is In The Erred
BOY what a dumbass I am. I conducted what I thought was a sweetly romantic version of KOOP's perennial favorite, the Lounge Show, this past Saturday, but due to user error (meaning ME), I screwed up the recording of it. What a maroon!
However, I have made a CD-length mix of a majority of the songs I played Saturday (no, I didn't recreate my oafish airbreaks) which is available as my Self Help Radio Extra for February. Go! Go young lovers! There is grooviness waiting for your untainted hearts!
But if you're bitter & wounded & frankly hate the whole fucking idea of Valentine's Day, you can listen to my Self Help Radio show about jealousy over at selfhelpradio.net. You can even listen to it without me. Do you think I care?
No, I'm too busy beating myself up about my stupidity.
However, I have made a CD-length mix of a majority of the songs I played Saturday (no, I didn't recreate my oafish airbreaks) which is available as my Self Help Radio Extra for February. Go! Go young lovers! There is grooviness waiting for your untainted hearts!
But if you're bitter & wounded & frankly hate the whole fucking idea of Valentine's Day, you can listen to my Self Help Radio show about jealousy over at selfhelpradio.net. You can even listen to it without me. Do you think I care?
No, I'm too busy beating myself up about my stupidity.