Whither Beauty Pageants?

Confession time: I've never sat through any televised (or live) beauty pageant, & that includes ones that I might have been present for. I have seen a few movies about them - "Little Miss Sunshine" probably being the best - how many movies have been made about them, you might wonder - well, here's a list - but in general, I haven't had a whole lot of interest in what seemed a weirdly staged - lots of standing around for the "contestants" - & mostly formal exercise in shallowness.

I probably conceived of the notion of the show around the time the video for the Miss Teen USA pageant started making the rounds - you know, this one - because it most likely started a process in my brain that could have gone something like this:

1) This is sad. She's nervous but she's also kinda stupid.
2) It's also sad that people think this is funny.
3) I guess people think it's funny because they probably hate the idea of a competition for "the prettiest."
4) It's natural to want to think the most generically beautiful people are the dumbest.
5) That sure is a big stage she's standing on.
6) If it's Miss Teen USA, does that mean there are fifty contestants?
7) Maybe more, with Guam & Puerto Rico & Iraq & all our other provinces?
8) This is a weird idea.
9) I bet beauty contests started in America.
10) Do you think there are a lot of songs about beauty contests?

That all happened within a few seconds, most likely while I was drunk, & I probably created a folder on my computer & noticed it some time later. Because chances are I put the folder not in the place where I keep show ideas (that would be a folder called "show_ideas"), but in something completely irrelevant, like "taxes" or "embarrassing photographs of monkeys" or "recipes that are mainly excuses for eating lots of cheese."

Now the chickens have come home to roost. But they are beauty chickens.

Preface To Beauty Pageant: What Horrible Memories This Show Will Bring Back

I actually thought instead of trying to be funny & talking about the show today, I'd post some more pictures of Buster. I hope you don't mind.

I have tried to arrange them like so: Buster alone, a snap of Buster & Blue Boy, then pictures of Buster with Beatrice & with Bolan. They're not chronological. They're just some of the few snapshots I & Magda, neither of whom are really picture takers, have collected over the years.

Buster

I lost a dear friend, my child, on Friday. My cat Buster, at the very young feline age of ten, died very suddenly from a viral infection called FIP. You can read about it at the Wikipedia link there. It was treacherous & awful & my girlfriend Magda & I did everything in our power to try to help him. But it came too fast & now he's no longer with us. It's been a horrible weekend, with feelings of anger & regret, torturous dreams & sad awakenings, & of course the fear of it happening to our other two cats. Mostly, though, I miss him being around. I loved him so.

I adopted Buster when he was a kitten about ten years ago. He was part of the litter of a cat that lived around my sister's house in Garland. He would probably have been a feral cat & lived only a few years (if that) had I not fallen in love with his gray tabbiness & that round, stone face. I brought him back to Austin & named him Buster, after Buster Keaton, someone else I love dearly. (Buster Kitten, get it?) I brought him home to be with me & my cat Blue Boy, who had feline leukemia. I don't know why I decided to adopt him - there were great fears that he could contract Blue Boy's disease - but I brought him into my life thoughtlessly, because he was affectionate in a bull-headed, oafish way, the opposite of Blue Boy's delicate grace.

Buster had a singular charm as a kitten - a leaky anus. Many a guest would find him on their lap & he'd leave them a small round surprise when he got up. He outgrew that (thank god) but there were several weeks there where I was cleaning up little brown rings on the carpet every damn day. He also discovered my roommate's weird collection of plastic bags & we found out soon enough by following the overpowering smell that he liked to urinate in plastic bags. Buster was a charmer.

Blue Boy was in good health that summer, but as he deteriorated, I had to separate him & Buster. The last month of Blue Boy's life, I kept Buster in a different room, & now, although I have been guilty about it for a long time, I do treasure the memory of the hour or hours I spent in that room to feed Buster & play with him & try to make up for confining him while Blue Boy was starting to fade. Buster was young & loved to fight & steal food - Blue Boy was dying.

Blue Boy died at a weird time in my life. I had changed focus at work, I had left KVRX, & I was about to move from the place where I had lived for almost six years - a place I lived in longer than any other place in my life. I had Buster tested again for feline leukemia a month or so after Blue Boy's death, but despite all the grooming & fighting & sharing (& stealing) of food, he didn't have the disease. I was very grateful - I wanted Buster to be with me for a long, long time.

I moved into a smaller place that December, & it was just Buster & me. I remember he would inexplicably hide from me, & I worried he had sneaked out of the screen door & out to the busy street nearby. I also remember, in those smoking days, in those smoking in the house days, I'd have the door open to the night & just be staring out into the backyard & Buster & I would marvel at the giant moths which would bat upon against the porch light. Buster was a very expressive cat, & he had a lot of things to say to anything outside, be it another cat, a bird, an insect, or a person, all through his life. He would often wake me up with shrieks at passing cats. As annoyed as I always was, it would be like beautiful music to hear it now.

I have one very strong memory of that time. The first time I tried e, I was alone at home, & he came up to me, purring, & I started petting him. It must've last a half-hour, the sensation of his fur was astonishing. It was a mutually beneficial heavy petting session on drugs. Subsequent times on e after that always included some touch-time with the kittens. Buster's fur was always best of all.

That summer I adopted another kitten, named Beatrice, & that was when Buster came into his own. For all his oafishness, for all his slight slowness of mind (I think now he wasn't so much stupid as deliberate, & he stolidly kept his own pace), he was a great big brother. Beatrice was (& is) a peevish cat, skittish & quick to defense, but Buster impressed me with his patience, his love, his inexplicable tolerance & care of this obviously irrational little white girl cat. He & Beatrice were closer than I was ever able to be to either of them, & Beatrice has let virtually no one but him & me touch her her entire life. The two of them wouldn't share the same space often, but they did come together & groom one another, & Buster hardly ever was at the claw end of one of Beatrice's hissy fits. When he was, though, he understood. He raised her!

I can't imagine how she misses him - but she surely must.

When Magda & I got together, she brought a dog into our life, & Buster made it perfectly clear that he ran the house. George the beagle was followed by Ringo the beagle who was followed by many fostered dogs (over ten, who rarely stayed longer than a month) & finally by Winston, & while there have been occasions when they've gone all doggie & chased Beatrice way, I have the image in my head of three hungry hounds wanting desperately to get into the kitchen to eat their dinner but whining instead because this tiny tabby - weighing at most twelve pounds - was standing in their way. Buster would often just mosey up to one of them - for some reason, Ringo particularly interested him - & swat him with a quick ninja cat paw. Just to make sure everyone his role was understood.

With a woman living with us, Buster revealed another endearing trait - he liked women's shoes. Not wearing them (that would have been freaky), but what Magda has called "making love" with them. If they were stranger's shoes, even better. It was always slightly embarrassing to see Buster roll himself over a shoe, like watching a dog hump a pillow.

Two years ago Magda brought home a black cat we call Bolan & Buster also raised him. They were fast friends, & Buster was just as patient with this child as he was with Beatrice, & this child grew to be twice his size.

Buster accepted all the changes because he was Buster. A more centered cat I have yet to meet. He loved food, he loved to sit in the window & watch the world go by, he loved to be next to humans (but not in their lap - maybe being shoved away because he was leaving poo stains conditioned him as a kit), he loved to be petted, &, as he got older, he loved to drool. Buster had a very sensitive head - rubbing him the wrong way always caused him to rattle his head - so if you were petting him, & if he started to drool, you had to be extra careful about scratching the head the wrong way, or else he'd bathe you in his drooly happiness.

It's ridiculous all the ridiculous things you miss when your pet's gone.

Buster was the patriarch of this house. We'd find him in the oddest places - on top of things or under things or in things like drawers - & we had no idea how he got there. He knew the place like no one else. Him being gone is not only like a part of me being gone - like a heart attack kills a part of your heart, the death of Buster has killed a part of what makes me me, what makes me love - but also like something's been stolen from this place, like some part of it has disappeared & it seems incomplete. This house is broken & can't be fixed any more.

So this motherfucking virus came & Buster stopped eating & despite everything - despite Magda reading about European treatments, our friendly neighbor forcing him (because we couldn't, we always felt we were hurting) to take steroids & antivirals & interferon, arguments with the vet about a feeding tube (we felt he might be able to live with the virus if we kept his weight up) - despite all our attempts to feed him all kinds of crazy meats & cat treats - despite long conversations I had with him, as he got more shaky & his meows became strained & his purr sounded like it had pitch-shifted, these long discussions we had with me telling him how much he meant to us & how he was supposed to live much longer - it just happened so fucking fast! - he succumbed to that bastard virus & now he's gone.

It's Memorial Day & this is also blog entry four hundred, & it certainly wasn't planned, but I am glad I have a place & time to honor Buster with some small remembrances. There's a poem Kinky Friedman quotes when he talks about the death of his cat which I thought about when Blue Boy died, & I think about now, nearly nine years later: "We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own live within a fragile circle..." Kinky Friedman adds, "People may surprise you with unexpected kindness. Dogs have a depth of loyalty that we often seem unworthy of. But the love of a cat is a blessing, a privilege in this world."

I probably didn't deserve Buster's love, but I am glad I was able to know him & love him & let him live a lot longer on this planet than he would have if he had been feral. I'm glad he was able to interact with so many people & be a big brother to Beatrice & Bolan. & I'm glad he got to be the first cat to soil so many clean new litter boxes. & I'm glad he got to live in more than one place, to escape outside occasionally, to eat lots of really stinky food, to play with & sometimes kill lots of bugs, to be alive, in my life, asleep next to me on the bed at night, drooling on me in happiness, reminding me sometimes hours before when it was time to eat.

I love you & miss you Buster. If there's a place beautiful pets go when they die, I'll visit you when I have left this world. If there's not, then I just want to thank you for sharing your life with me. It was a blessing & a privilege & as long as I'm able, I'll never forget how you honored me with your life.

Hypnotic Weekend

I don't usually write on this blog on the weekend, but you don't usually read it at all, so we're both being unusual. What else can we do? Gasoline costs too much to drink all day long! Might as well read blogs!

Know what else you can do? You can listen to this week's Self Help Radio podcast, which is all about hypnosis. Not only are there fancy dan songs about hypnosis but also the host & founder of Self Help Radio, Carlos Mencia, gets hypnotized on the air! Oh wait, Mr Mencia is not hosting this week. Someone named Gary is.

In any event, the show is available like it always is at selfhelpradio.net. Listen to it all weekend long. It may help you quit smoking. Or even start smoking.

I also wanted to write today because this is my 399th post to the blog, & I have a special memorial to write about for my 400th post. It turns out that I have to memorialize a loved one on Memorial Day. Weird sadnesses have conspired with mild triumphs to make it really a Memorial Day. See you then.

Lonesomer Friday

A famous hypnotist walks into a bar. A not-so-famous hypnotist walks into a bar. A dude with those weird x-ray glasses with the hypno wheel on them which don't really work walks into a bar. A bar is open, a bar is closed.

More & more, life seems to contain more & more of stuff which I apparently said, felt & did, but to which I have increasingly less access. More than hypnotism, I think I'd like to have someone pump energy into my hypothalamus like they did on a recent episode of House. Whether it works on not, who know, but now I will be expecting to have lucid dreams/memories in high definition color.

Tomorrow I will have a new podcast for you - & this one will be very good I hope you know - & also rather silly - so please look around to find it & enjoy it on your Memorial Day weekend. Days off are good for listening to weirdoes & their radio shows. I would do it if I knew some weirdoes on the radio. Where have they gone I wonder? All the weirdoes?

You know where one of them is, at least! Have a good weekend!

Game Is The Name Of The Lame

I really enjoy making the Self Help Radio Extra mixes. If I didn't enjoy hunting down music for the Self Help Radio themes, I might just make weekly mixes. As it stands, I try to make time to make the best mixes, but even leaving the radio station that seemed to take up half my life hasn't really freed up my time - I find other things to do.

I wanted to have a new Extra mix up today, but instead I've been listening to records on how to hypnotize yourself for the next podcast. So I'll try to have the mix up this time next week. I'm lame. I'm really lame.

Speaking of, no one's very excited about my upcoming four hundredth post on this blog. One person sent me a link to a blog that was started around the same time as this one that has over a thousand posts. Imagine! Granted, the posts tend to be more links & they're smaller. Imagine! Also, they have nothing to do with a radio show/podcast the blogger does. Imagine! It also has pitchers of nekkid wimmen. Imagine! Should I find some wimmen for post four hundred & take pitchers of them nekkid? I might get more hits. I might lose the missus. Wow that's a lame pun. Especially since I'm not married. Also, I have no pitchers of wimmen anywhere, & none of those (I'll presume) have any nekkidness involved. Imagine!

Then I'm not going to make a big deal about the four hundredth post. What, am I crazy? 400 posts! That's amazing!

Wow, I'm lame. But this week's show will rock!

Whither Hypnosis?

I know what you're thinking. I'm going to hypnotize you & make you act like a chicken. Or worse, I'm going to make you act like a naked chicken. Or worst, I'm going to act like a naked chicken while you're hypnotized. Nothing could be farther from the truth! I want to hypnotize you to help you quit smoking. Eating too much. Wetting your bed. Biting your nails. Masturbating. Believing in God. Popping pills. Short-changing the customers. Wrestling with your demons. Mistaking sex for love. Running for office. Randomizing. Stuff like that.

You don't have to be afraid! Here, go visit this vaguely mystical-looking website to read some common myths of hypnosis. There! Doesn't that make you feel better? Hey, if a place called "deeptrancenow.com" says hypnosis is all right, it must be all right!

Listen, tootsie pop, it's just a radio show featuring songs & information about hypnosis. It's not scary! It's an adventure! I have spent the last seventy-two hours implanting auto-suggestions in-between the more comforting notes of all the peppiest songs I'll play on this week's Self Help Radio. But that's nothing compared to the subliminal messages in your average episode of "60 Minutes." & that doesn't include the truly terrifying pharmaceutical ads. I stress again: these messages are for your self-improvement, not for your embarrassment. They may make me laugh, but they're not a laughing matter. I know that. You know I know that.

You are feeling very sleepy. It must be the light of the computer monitor. It makes me tired, too. Please don't read any websites right now about politics. Read instead some calming stories about zombies. Zombies rule! But they're not hypnotized, & neither are you.

When I snap my fingers, you'll wake up & feel refreshed. Your head will be lighter & so will your wallet. Follow the lights on the floor to the door & exit onto the street going left.

Preface To Hypnosis: I Can't Hypnotize But I Can Mesmerize

Messages left in tiny boxes in front of houses in my neighborhood (which are not, by the way, for me) speak of cynicism & gloom: they warn of dissolving marriages, shockingly lowered values on recently-appraised homes, noisier dogs sneaked in during the night, a party which may cause inconvenience come Thursday. Was there ever a time when these notices spoke of happy things, like births, or career advancement, or just general good news? Who knows - &, again, I'm not supposed to be reading them.

If one walks a straight line from the edge of the driveway to the edge of the curb where one stands to wait for the bus, one naturally must walk through houses, back yards, flower beds, storage sheds, over cars & fences, past angry home owners with guns & sharp tongues, into & out of a few businesses, across one busy street & at least two or three not-so-busy ones. This is true about all the nearby bus stops, not just the one I take to get to work every day. Even the bus stops that lead away from my work. There is no straight line away from my house to any bus stop.

That makes me very, very nervous. Anxiety is an old friend, but as I get older, I can imagine the nerves fraying, like sleeves or tassels, until they're just dangling, fraught, always in motion. It's no wonder I sneak glances into the little boxes which hold the messages for others in the neighborhood - for the uptight effeminate fellow & his perfumed dog; for the happy couple with the motorized, air-conditioned stroller for their new sprog; for the grumpy old conservative & his solid gold walker, slowly making his day-long trip up the block & back; for even the visitors, solicitors or stalkers, who pretend they're part of this neighborhood & who everyone else pretends are a part of this neighborhood.

I couldn't tell you why I am disconnected in this way. I smile, sometimes I wave, but the people who live around me often turn off their lights & close up their trees when I pass. I cannot say if it's just that they dislike me or if I committed some kind of offense. I want to say to them, "But I bought the house! I do not rent! I do not lease! I mow my own lawn & put up my own Christmas lights! Look! Look! It's my name on the mail! It's my name on the magazines!" But what good would that do? Surely those who reject me have closed their ears like their minds & they can't hear a word I say. Just the sound of my footsteps trailing into the loneliness of my home.

The noise you hear is the neighborhood sharpening its teeth. The noise you don't hear is my television turning off as I look out my picture window & fall asleep staring into the street. The night comes, the night goes. All manner of things happen, usually, & usually you don't need to pay attention. The power goes off & the houses empty as we all look to see if it's a community event, & not something ridiculous like someone forgetting to pay their bills. We ask the questions, we stand around, we stare at each other's lawns, cars, for sale signs, political candidate signs, dying trees, edged shrubs, boxes of recycling. Then the power comes on again. We go back inside.

Something starts all over again. Something never ended. Something never began.

Another Non-Random Show Notification On Your Otherwise Spotless Corkboard

Posted this weekend: Self Help Radio show number - er - I mean Jesus I don't know what frickin' number show it is - it's the show about lemons. It's available where you normally find Self Help Radio podcasts & archived versions of the old radio show: both in my head & at selfhelpradio.net.

I want to add that you can certainly keep those suggestions coming about what I should do special for my 400th post on this blog. "Nude photos of my cats" is certainly a hilarious option, especially since they're perverts, but they have their own blog so you can already see them. "Free access to this blog for life" seemed a little smart-alecky until I realized someone could make the argument that "free access" means I have to pay their ISP bills. Fat chance!

But I do believe the four hundredth post should be exciting, special, awesome, tacky, windswept, consumptive, cricket & rad, so I am still taking suggestions. Number 400 (wow, like the hit film!) should break some time next week. I suggest you plan your parties now!

But don't forget the point of today's notice: a show about lemons at selfhelpradio.net! Have some with your afternoon tea!

A Twist Of Lemon

Tomorrow! Probably in the middle of the day! Or maybe sooner! But maybe later! The Self Help Radio podcast series continues with a lemony show all about lemons! It'll be tart & tangy, sour & sweet! It can clean your hair & your furniture! It will go good with beverages & garnish your entree! Wow! What the hell! That's one great radio show!

Now all I have to do is put it together. I wish it was as easy as writing about it. Damn it.

Pay attention to selfhelpradio.net tomorrow (Saturday) to see when I post the show, or write an email to this email address to ask me to notify you when it's posted.

Seriously, I gotta start working on that show. Why am I wasting my time on a blog? Jeez.

That Boy Hermes

According to the list of things which is collected for things in the thing-like interface which controls this blogging device thing, I am rapidly approaching my four-hundredth blog entry. (Well, rapidly. I mean, it's less than ten entries off, so it'll happen in like two weeks or something.) (It's certainly as rapid as any blogging I do I suppose.) (Thing.) I ask you, loyal readers of other blogs than this, what should be the celebration that we celebrate for the four-hundredth Self Help Radio blog? Here are some choices sent in by Mrs. Mull's second-grand class, Doonesburg, Ohio:

1) Photos of Gary being kicked in the head! (submitted several times)
2) Free trip to Planet Zed!
3) Tell us a story, tell us a story!
4) More money for lunch please. I am hungry.
5) A special song written for all the famous things that are four hundred!
6) Two cats for every orphan!
7) A rhyming dictionary for the lucky winner!
8) Three or more tours of duty in Iraq starting this summer!
9) A haircut & a shave!
10) Tacky joke gift vetted by your drunk uncle!

What else? What could it be? What shall we do? Wherever shall we go? Could there should there be a contest? Should there would there be a prize? Ought there be a law? Might there be a drawing (of names), or a drawing (of famous people in funny caricature)? I can't decide. You have to decide! Four hundred is a big number. Help me figure out what should happen when blog post number four hundred happens!

Thing.

Whither Lemons?

A fan of lemons was telling me just the other day, "There's that old song, you know, about how the interior of the lemon isn't very good to eat, & I was always puzzled by this. I always ate lemons like other kids at oranges, or even grapefruit. I'd scoop the pulp out & just eat. It never occurred to me that it wasn't supposed to be edible. So I continue eating the flesh - for lack of a better word - of lemons to this very day. You may not believe me but it's true.

"What's weirder," he continued, "is that I can't do the same with limes. I can't eat a section of a lime in the same way that I can basically 'eat up' a lemon. It doesn't taste good enough & the consistency, the texture of the lime isn't the same. Isn't that just too odd? Because you can set a lemon & a lime side-by-side & even cut them in half, & they look like basically the same fruit, only colored differently. But they are very, very different. They are - at least to my taste buds - polar opposites.

"I can also tell you," said the fan of lemons, "that I could chew on a lemon rind - did you know they also call it a 'zest'? - I could chew on a lemon zest in the same way other kids chewed gum. To me, there was nothing better, after consuming the inside of a lemon, spitting its seeds out, wiping the sticky sour juice from my face - nothing better than gnawing off a piece of lemon zest & spending the rest of the day just chew, chew, chewing it. Other children, with their Wrigley's & their Fruit Stripe & they're Double Bubble, they'd complain of losing flavor & having to keep sticking new pieces of gum in their mouths, but not me. A little lemon rind went a long way."

"I wish I could tell you," he said with a sigh, "why I am so obsessed with lemons. There's probably a moment - or moments, really, felicitous, random moments when I was young - when lemons were the only thing around to eat, & I ate them. Ate them up. & my love of lemons continues undeterred to this day. I love lemon tea, lemon-flavored soft drinks, lemon garnishes, lemon juice dripped on frying foods, lemonade of course, lemon added to any alcohol, lemon candies, lemon, lemon, lemon! The taste of lemons. It overwhelms me & is the one thing on this planet that makes me completely, totally happy."

"Well," I said, "that's good news, because my radio show, Self Help Radio, this week features nothing but talk & music about lemons!"

"Hey," said the fan of lemons, "I didn't know you did a radio show."

Preface To Lemons: I'd Rather Talk About Toast

Don't get me wrong. I'm very excited about this week's show, for which I am receiving absolutely no money from the Texas Citrus Exchange. No money, nor any of their delicious fruit, certainly not sent in lovely gift baskets directly to my door for any consideration whatsoever. Oh delicious citrus! Your sourness is the sweetest thing in my life!

Recently, though, I've begun to question the very nature of fruit. It's so, well, fruity. Can that be a good thing? Some fruitarians think that, but can we truly trust anyone who has so willfully given up cheese? I think not.

One struggles to find one's way in the shopping cart of life, & I have been a vegetarian since way before you thought I was cool, but the questions with which one grapples can be philosophical finger traps - such as this one: why worry about lemons, when all you can think about is toast?

It's true! Why does toast haunt me so? Since our toaster died, I have been forced to make toast in a "toaster oven." The toast comes out disappointed & rueful. The butter will not melt, it feels the toast's shame. I had to put this morning's toast out of its misery by throwing it into a mob of hungry beagles! What sort of death is that for bread? For toast? I may as well have shoved it up the assholes of pigeons in the park!

One doesn't have the same moral & ethical quandaries with fruit, even with citrus, whose reputation among fruits is that of scoundrels & knaves. At the very least douchebags. Fruits have nothing on toast! But you can put fruit on toast! Preferably sliced thin. If you must.

I sing a dirge of toast lost today. The citrus fruits would weep acrid tears, if weep they could, if they hadn't already been crushed into juice. Mmm, juice. Salud!

From Dynamite To Los Angeles

Suddenly I am regretting not beginning all of my blog entries with a salutation. What a dreadful miscalculation! Now my blog has no personality! It's just like me!

Followers of the stomach flu may note with sadness that I am more or less back to my usual state of health which, frankly, for most people is a bit on the sickly side. I managed to fly to Los Angeles & attend my girlfriend's sister's wedding, but couldn't take advantage of the free booze & was back in Austin before Spielberg knew I was there. He & I are just NOT on speaking terms.

Before I left Saturday morning, though, I finished the first post-radio show podcast, which is still an episode of Self Help Radio, warts & all, & is available for your listening pleasure at the regular place, cnn.com. No, that's not right. & no, Wolf Blitzer & I are also NOT on speaking terms. A situation room without a self-destruct button?! What the fuck was he thinking?

The Self Help Radio show about dynamite is available at (of course) selfhelpradio.net. Do go listen. You may be the only person who does!

One Dynamite Podcast!

The Self Help Radio non-radio pro-podcast revolution begins in just a little time, my friends. Oh yes! As we speak, smelly beagles of all ages are sniffing the butts of all kind of music - all about the subject "dynamite" - which will be gathered tenderly, like flowers or cigarette butts, & turned into a deliciously explosive podcast you'll want to tell your friend about.

Do you want me to tell you when it's posted? Send an email to this address & I'll do that. Meanwhile I'll tease you by saying that this week's podcast will featuring the likes of Sly & The Family Stone, Iggy Pop, Slim Gaillard, King Floyd & Dick & The Family Cheney. Well, maybe not the last one. But all the rest & more!

Only at selfhelpradio.net. Only with fresh fruits & veggies. Only on time, never late. Only as a last resort.

Huzzah!

In Which Our Hero Makes One Final House Call

In the big media flap that was me distancing myself from my pastor's inappropriate behavior & apparently seditious sermons - wait, that wasn't me at all - was that former French president Jaques Chirac? Wasn't I him in a previous French life? I can't remember. I know there was a big media flap involving me, Caroll Spinney, an ostrich recently "liberated" from the San Diego Zoo, & Alaskan celebrity Mike Gravell. There always is, it seems, when a season ends. It's the burden of being virtually unknown & living in an imaginary world in my own hollow head.

Due to this media flurry, it may have been lost in the shuffle that the last episode of the fine show "The House Call" (normally ably hosted by heavy drinker Justin B) was poorly subbed by me during the hour before the Self Help Radio Season Finale. That show, featuring a not-entirely-right-in-the-head co-host, Mike, is available for listening at the Self Help Radio website. It's worth your time, if only to hear Xiu Xiu's magnificent cover of "Under Pressure." That's a keeper.

Go! Listen! I've got an imaginary press conference to attend, & later I'll be doing some imaginary drugs & crashing my imaginary car into the real tree.

Whither Dynamite?

Two things are interesting to me about dynamite. Ka & boom!

Was that funny? Well, I'm not funny. I'm sickly & I can't go to Los Angeles for my girlfriend's sister's wedding. So I'm sick, I'm depressed, I'm making enemies in my girlfriend's family, & I'm not funny.

Still. Two things are interesting to me about dynamite.

One, the fact that the dude who invented it was so shaken by an accidentally published obituary ("the merchant of death is dead!" it announced) that he started the Nobel Prizes to "atone" for his great destruction. I mean, if everyone did that, Dick Cheney would be spending the rest of his life giving everyone in America fifty dollars! Imagine that!

Two, the fact that it's a weird metaphor. To call someone "dynamite" is to call them "explosive" or "catastrophically violent," right? Nope. It means "great!" I'll be discussing this at length on the podcast. It's weird to me. "Dynamite" = "great"? What's next? "Bad" = "good"?

Of course, there are lots of great songs about dynamite, too. That's the main reason I do these shows I do, you know. The great music. & also the explosions. Ka-boom!

Preface To Dynamite: A Stomach Flu For All Humankind!

I don't know about you, but I am pretty annoyed by viruses. & I'm not afraid to say so! You know what I'm talking about - viruses - sub-microscopic infectious agents that are unable to grow or reproduce outside a host cell. You feel me? No? What if I remind you that viruses consist of genetical material - DNA or RNA - within a protective protein coat called a capsid? Ah, you know what I'm talking about. Fucking viruses! They infect cellular life forms & are grouped into animal, plant & bacterial types, according to the type of host infected. & isn't that the shit?

I was minding my own business last week when some motherfucking virus decided to hang out in my stomach. Say what? You heard me! You know what followed? It wasn't beer & skittles, if that's what you mean. Unless by "beer & skittles" you mean "upchuck & the trots." In which case, then, yeah, it's been three days of beer & skittles.

I didn't go to a doctor, but I'm pretty sure I had (& may still have) this: a norovirus. I did in fact have a low grade fever Saturday night. (The grade? D+.) I scared the hell out of my girlfriend because I kept talking to her but I was responding to imaginings & dreams. Ah, fevers. Like a cheap drug when you least can afford it.

I am doing better now - I have to, I am driving to Los Angeles on Thursday. Wow, I get to transport a norovirus across the country! Someone please please please tell me Scarlet Johansson & Ryan Reynolds are in LA! Please please please.

This does mean limited blog entires for the next week. I'll warn more later. Now. Urp. I need to go visit the facilities.

Cake Request Form

I just discovered there was such a thing as a "cake request form." Ah, bureaucracy. Just tell me where to sign.

The very lastest Self Help Radio on KOOP was quite a blow-out. Hear what the critics are saying?

Nope.

Me neither.

But take my word for it, it was more fun than watching angry people trying to douse the Olympic Torch while French police on roller skates daydream of Segues! & guess what what! You can listen to it in its entirety at selfhelpradio.net! Not just now! Also later! Isn't that just freaky?

& nothing on the cake request form says anything about "one per customer." Suckers!

Last Show On KOOP!

This is it, friends. My last appearance on KOOP radio. It starts at 3:30pm when I sub the House Call one last time, & then the ninety-minute "season finale" of Self Help Radio.

But wait! Unlike most season finales, the "new" season of SHR begins right away next week as a podcast. Send an email if you want to be notified of SHR podcasts! The best is yet to come!

I hope you tune in today. It's a crazy show. Weird interviews, exclusive songs written for the show, & I will make love to a panda on the air. Well, maybe not. We'll see.

Your last chance to hear Self Help Radio on the radio in Austin is 4:30 today! Tune in!

My Last Ear Candy

I came to KOOP in late 2000 on the invite of one of the many Jennifers who have hosted the indiepop show "Ear Candy" since the late 1910s. I had been missing radio a lot but I didn't really want to have to get involved with another organization - especially one with as fearsome & intolerant a reputation as KOOP. In the end, I DID get involved, & I hope I helped change the station into a more welcoming place - but this is not the place to talk about that.

I subbed Ear Candy quite a bit over the years - I just counted - it was around twenty times - & I always loved the show. The first time I was on KOOP, actually, was an Ear Candy show. So it was very nice that Lace - the current Jennifer who handles Ear Candy - asked me to sub the show last Saturday. It was a nice way to say goodbye to a show that was like my second home on KOOP.

Want to listen to that show? You can! At selfhelpradio.net!. Please to enjoy.

& tomorrow is the last time you'll ever hear me on the air in Austin, Texas. Why hasn't the news media called? This is what I want to know.

Whither A Season Finale?

All things - good or not - must come to an end. Of course, Self Help Radio is not ending, but its place on the KOOP schedule is. It's happening at the end of the season. Ergo, Season Finale.

Where will Self Help Radio end up? Well, it comes with me wherever I go, so it'll end up in North Carolina. That's where I'll be by the end of the summer. Why, you many ask. Why Gary? Why the Deep South? You've quit smoking. You really don't want to have to explain yourself Jesse Helms. What gives?

I'll tell you. My girlfriend Magda is getting a job at Duke. Duke is a university in Durham, North Carolina. I love my girlfriend Magda in the way that a boy sometimes loves a girl & wants to be with her all the time. She's very smart & very dorky & we both have seen every episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation too many times. She can speak the language of lemurs. She eats sesame tofu as fast as I do - if not faster. She's funny-looking in a pretty kind of way. I like her!

I decided I'd rather be with my girlfriend than without her. So I follow her. She gets to teach college, I get to work the clean-up shift at Whataburger. Wait. Do they have Whataburger in North Carolina? I need to start sending resumes out!

Self Help Radio may end up on the radio in Durham, or it may just be a podcast for the next year or so. In any case, it's unstoppable! You can't stop it! It's impossible to stop Self Help Radio! Like a crazy dream, it now leaps from the confines of "regular radio" into the aether, & online, but also into the aether, where it communicates with the space demons & protects Earth from unholy meteor penetrations & extraterrestrial salads!

Preface To The Season Finale: Guestbook Weirdness!

Here's something I never thought I'd have to deal with: a weirdo trying to harass me.

A while back I decided to do something totally dorky & add a "guestbook" to my site. It's free, it's silly, it's totally 1996. There have been some nice comments & some misspellings & it seemed a harmless thing to do.

Last week, someone who really, really doesn't like Self Help Radio decided to leave a nasty comment. I figured, hey, everyone's entitled to their opinion, even if it seemed strange to me to take the time to go to some place you don't like & write something nasty about it. It seemed - well - a little douchebaggish. But whatever.

The next day someone wrote something in defense of me, referring to the nasty entry. It was sweet & I thought, all right, it's like point/counterpoint. I certainly didn't want there to be an "argument" going on - I mean, if you don't like the show, you don't like the show, how can you "convince" someone about their own opinion? - but here are two people making two points & now let's go back to the regular stuff.

Yesterday, the person who wrote the first entry - under a different name - it's a really simple guestbook, you can claim to be whomever you want - wrote another mean entry. (How do I know it's the same person? The entries came from the same IP address. The guestbook administration lets me know where the entries come from.) I decided it wasn't the place for that sort of thing, so I deleted the comments - the two nasty ones, & (I'm sorry to the nice person who wrote this!) the one in defense of the show which referenced the first "bad review."

Of course, the nasty ones keep coming, & I'll keep deleting them, since they don't make sense now in the guestbook's context. & I know the same person is writing them all, so I can't even be flattered by hordes of people hating on me. So I make a quiet plea or four:

1) If you don't like Self Help Radio, don't worry, it's leaving the Austin airways. You might not have been able to work the magic radio dial to change the station while I was on the air, but now, since I won't be there, you don't have to trouble yourself. Everything is fine. You'll be all right.

2) I will continue podcasting, & will eventually be on the radio elsewhere, but that will require you to use a computer to download the shows &/or listen online. If you don't like the show, please don't take the trouble! Put it out of your mind. Self Help Radio can't ever hurt you. Things that other people like that you find awful can't hurt you. Concentrate on the things you like. Write nice things on their web pages. It will make the people who make the things you like feel really good. That's much better than trying to make someone feel bad, isn't it?

3) If you must leave comments, leave them here on the blog. Then we can have a conversation. We can't on a guestbook.

4) If you want to have a conversation, use your real name! Don't post under fake names! It undercuts your criticism! What are you afraid of? You know my real name. There are many ways to get to know who I am. Why not tell me who you are?

That's all. I don't like being this "self-indulgent" but it's such a weird & interesting thing to have to deal with, I had to tell SOMEONE. I hope you don't mind!

One Whole Planet

Someone just said to me, "I don't have control issues." "No?" I said, because I wasn't really paying attention & wasn't sure if she had just accused me of telling her that she had "control issues," whatever that means. "No," she said. "I don't need to be in control of much." "How much do you need to be in control of?" I asked her. "One whole planet," she said.

I don't need that much. Just a couple more Self Help Radio shows on KOOP & the promise of radio in the future. & look! The next-to-the-last Self Help Radio is available for your glistening listening pleasure now at selfhelpradio.net. Please listen & enjoy.

& don't hate me for my lack of ambition!

2 Shows To Go!

I am feeling especially wary about today's penultimate Self Help Radio, & I'll tell you why: it's not really under my control. You heard me. My show is programming itself. That's right! What kind of sick sci-fi nonsense is this? But the orders came from above. I don't have a say in my next-to-the-last show. I tell you, if I weren't leaving already, I'd have a bit of a huff prepared.

What is there to say? Today at 4:30pm CST, live on the 91.7 fm frequency & at koop.org is the first of two final Self Help Radio shows on KOOP. Oh boy! Yay boo! My teeth feel sad. I hope you can find it in your hearts to sacrifice any extra candy to my toothsome cause.

Come listen at 4:30! I will be paying my mortgage on the air!

Exter! Exter!

Happy Thursday. I made it back from Dallas & am working worrisomely on my next-to-last Self Help Radio. But I was thinking - hey, it's the end of April isn't it motherfucker? (Whenever I talk to myself in my head, I am extremely profane. I don't know why that is. For veracity's sake, I must write my thoughts down EXACTLY AS I HAVE THEM. If I didn't, I would be no better than [insert someone or something {like a media organization, or your lying-ass roommate in college} you think is a dissembling sack of sick], right?

If indeed it is the end of April, you selfish fucked-up douchehead, then isn't it time once again for another Self Help Radio Extra mix? Oh indeed it is. Please the Self Help Radio Extra page for a unique mix of the new sounds & the hot old sounds & the hot sounds that I don't know when they were recorded. All arranged in a single mix that makes it annoying if you don't like that one song in the middle, but convenient for listening to on iPod or burned to CD or given wrapped-up digitally as a present to your Aunt who thinks an mp3 is a brand of Soviet-era assault rifle.

Again, that's Self Help Radio Extra. I really want to say "You're welcome," but I'll wait for you to listen. Then you can tell me what you think. I'll be sitting here. Whittling. Yes, I whittle. I'm from the South. My father was a sharecropper's son. Whittling was mandatory for youngsters like me. Go, listen. Look, I'm making you a whistle.

Whither Regret?

I regret that I am in Dallas & can't write in my blog today. Wait. What?

Preface To My Penultimate Show On KOOP: Yes! I Got To Use The Word Penultimate!

I mean, how often do you get to use the word "penultimate"? Most people prefer "next to last," but not only does "penultimate" sound way cooler than "next to last," but it reminds everyone that the meaning of the word "ultimate" is "the very last." So the next time you see "Billy Joel - The Ultimate Collection," hold the record companies to their promise! No more Billy Joel collections ever!

Oh, tis a sadness to be approaching the end of my KOOP times. I feel blue. But I look forward - to other radio stations in the universe, to those pesky podcasts which, at last count, almost a few folks have downloaded. & then I look back - & it seems like KOOP is giving me the finger - wait! It's apparently just scratching its face. Whew!

There are so many wonderful stories & experiences that I had at KOOP, I am sure. I have obliterated most of them, of course, with heavy drinking & short-term memory loss incurred by a desperate need I have to impress the women by breaking beer bottles on my head. But my record number of concussions in one four-hour period surely reflects the joy given to me not only by being a part of what is truly a crazy-ass experiment in community radio, but also by the crazy-ass listeners who for whatever reason kept coming back to my show, listening, calling, calling again, still listening, calling, calling into the night, calling even when I am at home & not on the air any longer, continuing to call into the wee hours, calling, calling, hey!, I got caller ID buddy, be aware of that, you freak!

It's the penultimate time you'll get to hear me on that radio station! Pass it on! Use that word all the time until people get annoyed with you. You know you wanna. Come on!

The Podcasts Begin!

Yes, even though I was unable to be on the air on Friday (where, I am told, the noble Justin produced a fine Self Help Radio show!), I did manage to make a show, along with my pal Mike, & it is now a sweet, sweet podcast, located (as they always shall be) at selfhelpradio.net. You can listen to it & to the other installments of the Indiepop A To Z series there. & why wouldn't you? Are you too busy enjoying This Week In Science? I thought not. Wait. Are you? That's one of my podcast rivals!

I am thinking of changing my show's name to "This Week In Self Help Radio Radio." But it is really on the lowest rung of my consideration, so I probably shouldn't have mentioned it. It's right below "Getting a tattoo of Richard Dawson on my inside left thigh" & "trying heroin for the third time." I don't really have the space in my schedule for changing my radio show's name.

Go! Listen! I am just making noises because I don't want to have to go to this meeting I'm supposed to go to! Don't let me keep you!

Sheesh.

3 Shows To Go! (Slight Return)

Yes, there are three more Self Help Radio shows on KOOP. I'm doing the last two. Today, the wonderful Justin from the House Call fills in with a show all about tools. Do tune in at 4:30 pm Austin time on the 91.7 frequency & online at koop.org. It'll be awesome!

& I'll be back for my penultimate show on KOOP next week. Have a lovely weekend!

Self Help Radio vs The World

What an amazing title! Imagine, this tiny little radio show taking on something so big & scary & full of pollution like the world! That includes you, & every animal, & every hotel, & every bottle of Coca Cola! Why would this tiny little radio show want to do something like that?

Oh it isn't. It's just being grandiose. The main mouthpiece behind Self Help Radio, that queer fellow called Gary, he - & by he I mean I - subbed KOOP's world music show World Beat on Sunday. That's all. It's now available for your listening pleasure.

Where in the world can you listen to it? I bet you know! Yes, it's over at selfhelpradio.net. Like it always is. Every damn time. Go! Enjoy! Have fun!

Whither Tools?/Whither Indiepop A To Z # 14?

This is a two tracked explanation of the two Self Help Radio shows which will happen this week. Please do not adjust your browser. Everything is working exactly as planned. Take it away!

I am allowing the young Justin to handle Self Help Radio this week because a) he is able & b) I can't do it. But I can't go a whole week without a radio show. Damn my work! That would be madness. It's one of the last Self Help Radios on KOOP & my work says "No! Gary's gotta be here to justify his bureaucratic existence!" I also haven't visited my never-ending Indiepop A To Z series since late last year. They're so hateful here. It seems entirely appropriate to do so now, for two reasons: 1) to do a radio show when I cannot, in the form of a podcast, & 2) to do something of general interest so as not to "compete" with the Self Help Radio show subbed by Justin. My heart is broken. His show will be listened to by the regular Austin listeners. Yet my heart is heartened (after all) because I think Justin will do a fine job hosting Self Help Radio. My podcast will be downloaded by a drunk guy in Ukraine looking for free mp3s of Cinerama songs. I have requested that he do a show around the subject of "tools." & then quickly forgotten. Why is that? But isn't Self Help Radio really radio for people like me, people who need radio primarily if it is radio prepared & created by them themselves? Because, frankly, Justin is a manly fellow, with fine muscles & strong shoulders. If not that, what is it? & frankly I am a girly boy, with too much pretty hair & a slightly womanly walk which accentuates my wide feminine hips which, in a different world, would bear beautiful children. I cannot say, I am too close to the subject matter, in the same way a koala cannot be critical of the eucalyptus, or the way a walrus cannot talk shit about the rocks on which it suns. I am a little afraid around the implements which the more masculine of my gender use to make & repair things. But I will make my podcast, & I will load my podcast. My entire life I've been a little too afraid to ask about them. I just fucking dare you to download & listen to it. I have secretly conspired therefore to have Justin educate me without exposing myself as the sissy I fear the world sees me as. I just fucking dare you! Justin will vindicate me! I just hope my daring you isn't too pushy. So you had better pay attention. I do expect people to download my silliness.

Preface To Tools/Preface To A New Podcast

What do I talk about this week? Do I talk about the excellent young Justin's doubtlessly excellent covering of Self Help Radio (he's doing a show about tools)? Or do I talk about a podcast I will be making because I can't not make something like a radio show for even one little week? Or should I just show a video of what looks like a kitten with a theremin?

Instead, I think I'll take this moment to address what many in the Self Help Radio community are calling "tax day." As someone who has never failed to pay his or her taxes every other year or so, I find myself troubled by the turncoats & pests who feel that taxes are bothersome or otherwise cumbersome to the loathsome & the winsome. Surely our Founding Brothers & Sisters, who wrote extensively on the subject, never conceived of "taxation with representational art" as unfit for projects & protests! It's right there in the Constitution! Article you know, Section of course!

But this points even further to a more difficult conception of American society today in the 21st century today. Which is this: with all the consumer options we have before us, who really would choose to buy the governmental services on offer with the standard tax dollar? Very few of us, save some of the elderly without disposable income, as well as those for whom a nationwide flat tax appeals to their flat heads. Indeed, it's the crux of the material! Yet by requirement we save the embarrassment of unrequited requitedness. Quite!

I haven't got the hair nor the breadth to discuss the argument that goes on between bald Libertarians & shaggy-maned Contrarians, but you can well imagine that the hours spent on community radio alone making grand pronouncements, not to mention the money spent on shampoo & conditioner, could fill a phone book. I wanted rather to alert you, on this Taxing Tax Day, to the iambic pentameter being spent by the greatest truly minds of our or the next generation. For more information, please see a kitten possibly playing a theremin.

Man! Sudafed makes you have the coolest thoughts!

Home Sickly

A weird spring cold in Texas gave me a weird spring cold in my head so I am home today doped up on things to make me sleep & not sneeze all the time. How appropriate that the week I can't do a show, my body lets me get sick. Hurrah!

So instead of wasting time wondering what sort of nonsense I might write of a Monday, go listen to last Friday's show about gravity at selfhelpradio.net. I know you're a fan of Isaac Newton. You need not be ashamed any more.

Achoo. Groan.

3 Shows To Go!

I know, you're all planning your big "end of the show" party, like you did at the end of "M*A*S*H," "Seinfeld" & "The Big Valley." (Where I come from, "Big Valley" parties were fucking awesome!) But can I point out there are three big differences?

1) My show isn't ending. I'll continue with delicious podcasts dispensed at selfhelpadio.net. I'm just leaving KOOP. They'll be fine. I'll be fine. Nothing is ending. It's just changing.

2) You can be reminded about the podcasts by reading this blog or by sending me an email to remind you when a new show is posted. Think Hawkeye Motherfucking Pierce would have done that? Or that Kramer guy? Nope. Both of them would've used the n-word, although Alan Alda would make it seem like it was Groucho Marx using it.

3) I am only doing three more Self Help Radio shows, but there will actually be *four* more Self Help Radio shows! That's right, the dashing & handsome Justin who does the House Call before my show, will be subbing for me next week, doing a show about "tools." Ha ha! Can you imagine there being three more "M*A*S*H"s, but someone stepping in & adding a fourth? You can't! That's because we're so damn weird!

4) Did I say there were three differences? I guess I did. I don't know why I've numbered this as "4)" but I suppose it's a difference. Next week, I'll make a podcast. You heard me! So there'll be two Self Help Radio shows, one on the radio, one on the computero. Insert snarky comment about Lee Majors &/or Barbara Stanwyck here.

So tune in to Self Help Radio today at 4:30. Learn about gravity. From someone who has no gravitas at all. & who is famous for falling down all the time.

Aren't You Funny

I know, these sorts of things are just someone's opinion (I for one would have had a LOT more Mr. Show & a LOT less Saturday Night Live) but if you want to be amused, do have a look at nerve.com's 50 greatest comedy sketches of all time. It's an amusing distraction.

What would I have included that's not there? The possibilities are endless, really. For one, the Chicken Lady sketch from Kids In The Hall I would have added is not the one they pick. I like the one - which is the first Chicken Lady sketch I ever saw - with the blind date with Dave Foley. "I'm a chicken lady & I love life!" "I didn't think you meant it literally..." But so much of what they did was so absurd that it's only funny because it's so damn weird. That's awesome.

Which reminds me - League Of Gentlemen, anyone?

As for Mr Show - I have so many of those episodes memorized, it would be hard to say. But I'd leave out a couple of those dull SNL sketches for Thrill World & Druggachusetts because, frankly, they're funnier.

I can't believe they missed the single funniest SCTV sketch ever - Night School Hi-Q. Lugubrious!

& there's nothing from the Ben Stiller show? Really? I think that the "MTV Music News" sketch (I said kill Doug Szathkey!) would have been a great companion piece to the In Living Color Vanilla Ice parody. & what about Die Hard 12? Oliver Stone Land? Woody Allen's Bride of Frankenstein? Cape Munster?

Lists like this are always woefully incomplete, because tastes are different. But maybe you'll find some funny there for yourself.

Whither Gravity?

Here's what a weirdo Isaac Newton was: Read ten strange facts about Newton. Are they that strange? I mean, come on. It was, what, the seventeenth century? Shit was fucked up then. Everyone I've known who was able to see the world a different way than everyone else was completely batshit crazy. It makes sense that, in a world where there are a substantial number of batshit crazy folks, a handful would be brilliant. Sadly, the majority of them become religious or political. Luckily some of them become scientists.

I like that gravity is not completely understood. I like that it's a fundamentally weak force, if only because, when you explain that to astrologers, they get all vexed. (You know, "If gravity's so strong why can this little magnet counteract it so simply?") I like those drawing of gravity lines around massive objects illustrating the "space-time continuum." I love listening to the dreamers who imagine we'll beat the speed limit of light by using gravity to "bend" space. Forget all that nonsense about sin & redemption - that's just about control of your thoughts & your person. Close your eyes & imagine a gravity well dipping into a black hole drawing out incredible energies. Hell, close your eyes & imagine launching yourself into orbit on a small moon. You're a super hero in space!

Most songs about gravity are about gravity as a metaphor - either of "attraction" or of rebellion against physical laws. But there are songs, too, celebrating that batshit crazy Newton dude & what he thought up while the city of London was dying of the plague. Yay! One of the last Self Help Radio shows on the radio will be a science show!

Preface To Gravity: What Comes Up Must Not Be Discussed

Yes, it was a picture of a dog barking at Jesus. The dog is a beagle named George. Jesus is a plastic statue in a graveyard. Please stop writing me poems about it!

That's the thing: I don't really mind poems. I like them. I write them myself, in my skin, with a razor & a bottle of Softsoap. & oftentimes, yes, I write them about pictures of dogs barking at kitschy representations of old-fashioned deities. But I don't send them to anyone. I certainly wouldn't send them to you.

For example, why would anyone send this to anyone, especially me:

   You don't love me Jesus
   Because I am a hound
   So I'll continue peeing
   On your hallowed ground

But Gary, is this so bad? Yes. It's bad for two reasons. First of all, George is himself an accomplished poet (as well as an accomplished urinator), so he can write poems from his own point of view when necessary (although he prefers to write from an "everydog" perspective). He simply doesn't need you to write poems from his vantage point. Secondly, it's not a very good poem. It doesn't really capture the essence of the photograph & it doesn't really explain why the dog thinks Jesus doesn't love him. Frankly, it doesn't scan.

What about the free verse poems I'm getting? As always, the free verse is worse:

   Beagle orphaned on crisp sunny day
   Lack a day! Lackadaisical!
   Alone, alone, but wait! alone,
   with nearer my god to thee
   porcelain plastic messiah!

I know, what the fuck?!? (By the way, "lackadaisical" comes from "lackaday," smart guy. What've you been doing, reading the Word Detective or something? Sheesh.) I would have been more impressed if the writer had rhymed something with "lackadaisical."

Enough! The three or four people who read this blog read it to find out if I have gone completely off the deep end, not to hear your poetry about photographs on blogs. Now please, let me write about the topics I'll cover on my show, & leave your poetry to other radio shows that deserve them. That one about the Lake in Minnesota, for example. Write to them.

Now I've got to go & explain this to George...

Torso Pants

My month of April has gotten off to a grand start, how about yours? I am of course talking about the wildflowers! What did you think I was talking about? A hundred thousand dollar bar? Or maybe a grand piano?

I offer, for your edification, a dog in a cemetery full of wildflowers, barking at Jesus:



I should also mention that Self Help Radio started the month of April off with a show entirely about cheese. Mmm, cheese. Did you miss it? Or would you like seconds? Well, the cheese buffet is open over at selfhelpradio.net. Dig in!

4 Shows To Go!

Omigosh! We're in the final stretch! Only four shows to go!

I am going to resist listing famous foursomes - no Fantastic Four, nothing about calling birds - & instead warn you that the best is yet to come. You heard me! You might just fucking love to listen to Self Help Radio on your boring-ass ride home from your sanity-crippling job, & you may be relying on it on Fridays in the same way you used to need to visit a prostitute to be spanked for being very, very bad - but it'll soon be gone, my friend. There'll be another KOOP program. It won't be Self Help Radio.

But even though I'm pretty sure the KOOP program that will occupy the timeslot then will be fine & you'll barely remember, weeks from now, how Self Help Radio loved you long time, I will just let you know - as a kindness, as a public service - it could be an admonition, it could be a promise, it could be a simple piece of information - I must let you know that Self Help Radio is nowhere near meeting its potential. You heard me! The best is yet to come!

You'd hate to miss it, now, wouldn't you?

So make sure you either bookmark the Self Help Radio home page or send me an email to be reminded of the podcasts. Because you will regret missing it, in the same way you regret that last glass of whiskey every night around 2:30 am. Or you'll regret it the way I regret that last glass of whiskey. It tastes so good but it hurts so bad.

If you must listen on the real radio with real radio waves, then fine: today at 4:30, a show about cheese. Delicious!

Does Humor Belong On The Radio?

Dunno, but you're not as funny as you think you are. Nor am I as funny as you wish I were. Or will be. Or may be. Or.

Once upon a time - not too long ago - seriously, it's what they call "the recent past," which is I suppose the antonym of "the near future" now that I think about it - anyway, a programmer (who may or may not have actually been a medical professional) called Dr Debra did a novelty show. She did it mainly on the interwebbing, but fortunes changed, stations caught fire, & she got an fm slot on Wednesday late mornings.

Alas! Life takes its toll! The whims & phlegms of fate sadly forced the doctor to move her practice to the untamed wilderness some have called Oklahoma. What to do? Well, some valiant KOOPers have attempted to take her place until the end of the season. & God help me, I am one.

You can listen to my sub show from yesterday at the Self Help Radio home page site thing. There are songs about medical conditions, songs about bananas, & a song about a famous Basset Hound, among other things. Ha ha! I say. Ha ha!

Will I be asked to step in again? Is there any penalty for impersonating a funny doctor? Who knows? Oh the winds & phlegms of fate!

Whither Cheese?

Seriously, you have to ask?

You've obviously never heard my radio show.

Preface To Cheese: The Rot That Changes Lives

Oh, it's true. You can smoke your own cheese. But making it? Is making your own cheese what you really want to do?

The way (not the whey, thank you) I feel about cheese is similar to the way most people who eat meat (I don't eat meat) feel about killing animals themselves. Most every meat-eating human you know could never, never, never kill a cow & process it to make themselves a burger. They just couldn't. Luckily, they can go to their local McWendy's-In-The-Whatabox King. Someone else somewhere else did the dirty work & even better, it doesn't look anything like a cow!

Similarly I with cheese. I couldn't make it. It would be hazardous to my eating of it. & I love cheese. Not all cheese types, & not all the time, but cheese as a delicious idea oh yes I love.

Hey! I might be able to make processed cheese, if all it took was mixing human-made chemicals in a test tube & then baking some possibly edible polymer. Mmm. I'd color it funky colors, too. Neon blue cheese anyone?

Damn, talking about this makes me hanker for a hunk o'cheese!

A Layman's Guide To Videos About Sleep On Youtube

I am sitting here at work trying to get some project-related stuff done & for some reason I am listening to Woody Guthrie. It's making me feel weird. Partially because it's tropical outside. Partially because it's always weird to hear someone call Jesus Christ "a working man" in a song. That dude never worked a day in his life. He lived off the trust fund his dad set up for him.

Anyway, there are three things to say today, & the first of them is to say there are three things to say. Wait. That can't be right.

The second is: if you missed last Friday's television theme song spectacular, you can hear it again (as I've been saying) in reruns (har har) over at selfhelpradio.net. I call it the TV Show but it's really just a bunch of weird covers of television themes. It's like remembering your childhood with a lot of other people's memories.

I also wanted to make sure that YOU know that after I finish my run of Self Help Radio on KOOP, I am continuing the show as a podcast. How will you know? You never come to this blog! You don't write me anymore! When was the last time you invited me over to your house for drinks & dancing? Since we're obviously not as close as we used to be, maybe you should send me an email & tell me to remind you when I post new podcasts. One lousy email. & I don't drink all your whiskey.

I swear there were three things I wanted to say. Maybe the last was me saying that there were three things but obviously I'm dumb & I forgot the last one. Or maybe I just thought it was three because it's handy to have three things to say at any given time. Oh well. Back to Woody Guthrie. Damn these dust storms!

5 Shows To Go!

That's right. One more show in KOOP's Membership Drive, & a month's worth of shows after that. There, there. Stop your sobbing. Or I'll send Ray Davies. He's a real prick when people are crying.

Self Help Radio won't end! You can always go to the Self Help Radio website & there'll be new shows until I land elsewhere! & probably until I die! After that, not so much. Send me an email, I'll make sure you're notified when a new show is posted.

Meanwhile, KOOP Membership Drive goes on. Listen today & make a pledge at koop.org, or call in when I'm on the air live, Texas time, 4:30 to 6pm. The station that makes uncomfortable programming like Self Help Radio possible needs your help.

I need a shower & a shave. See you at 4:30!

March Madness!

Is it still March Madness? Does that have anything to do with the great actor Frederic March? Am I total geek or what?

I am happy to write that, although it's almost April, I have posted this month's Self Help Radio Extra. It's a CD-long mix of awesome tunes without any talking from me at all. Well, I might be a voice in your head. I can't help that.

So please visit the Self Help Radio website for a special mix from me to you. Because I am fond of you. There. I said it.

Whither The TV Show?

The Self Help Radio website says this week's theme is "The TV Show" but that's bit misleading. It's not going to be a show about television. It's going to be a show featuring covers of television theme songs. It's just that "The TV Show" sounds so good, I thought it better than "The TV Theme Song Show," which would have been far more accurate but doesn't really roll off the tongue.

So, a show about television theme songs. Should be fun, right? Wrong! It'll be FUN. All caps. Unless you're one of those weirdoes who doesn't watch television or - oh God it's too much to contemplate - worse if you're one of those people who DIDN'T WATCH TV AS A CHILD. I remember a moment - a rare moment - when, as a kid, I was talking to a girl - I think her named was Tracy - & I was talking about something I saw on a TV show the nice before, & she said, "My parents don't let me watch television." I was horrified. I felt like I should perhaps call Child Services or something. Unbelievable & cruel.

My love of music inevitably meant some of my favorite songs in the world would be television themes. I want to say a sad goodbye in public to the television theme song, by the way. Most network shows these days don't have theme songs, because the amount of time (now nearly twenty minutes per hour) given to advertisers means there's barely any time to spare, so new shows generally now have an intro screen & run the credits over the first few minutes of the show. Not on cable, though - HBO shows still have credits, for example. Maybe my show is also a eulogy & funeral service for the Network TV theme song. It died young!

I hope I didn't confuse anyone, at any rate. I just like to say "The TV Show." It sounds good.

Preface To The TV Show: Insert Something About TV On The Radio Here

Do you wonder where weird verbal habits you get come from? For example, when you say something rude or ridiculous or self-deprecating & you say, as your friends or whoever's around is laughing (you hope), "Did I say that out loud?" I do that occasionally, & it gets chuckles, & of course I've seen it on television & in movies, but I can't remember the first time I ever heard it. Maybe it didn't have much effect on me when I first heard it, but repetition made it more desirable to add to my idiom vocabulary.

One thing I say - like, way too much - is a play on the phrase "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." I like to say, "We'll burn that bridge when we get to it," which was, I thought, my clever way of mixing up the two phrases, the one above & the phrase "Don't burn your bridges behind you." Man I thought I was cool.

About two years ago, I was watching Nick At Nite or something & they were playing old episodes of "Three's Company." I watched that show straight through my childhood, even watching the "sequel" "Three's A Crowd," such was my devotion. So imagine my surprise when one of the characters - probably Chrissy - used the phrase, as an obvious mistake, worthy of a double take, "I can burn that bridge when I get to it."

How could I not have gotten that phrase from that particular episode?

It's time like this when I wonder what kind of personality I would have if it hadn't been for television. Discuss among yourselves.

X-Ray Isis

No, I don't know what the title of today's blog entry means. It came to me in a dream. A dream about a city being slightly scrubbed & left to dry in the warm Spring sun. Until - you know the rest - dragons!

That one dreams about dragons (or pimps, for that matter) shouldn't be much of a concern in this, our HBO universe. But should one brings one's dreams' inspirations to other aspects of their lives? I believe the answer may well be found in some of the most recent dream research research, which has found that people who spend a lot of time listening to other people's dream are mostly bored stiff. However, the small amount of folks who choose to pay attention (or "interpret") other people's dreams have an interest proportional to the amount of money being paid to them. & indeed, if the answer is there, the answer could be anywhere.

But scientists & people named Flower (who are never allowed to be scientists) have instead found that the answer to nearly any question can in fact be answered by people who are drinking tea. This astonishing discovery is not in the least diminished by the fact that the same could be said about most drinks (excluding buttermilk), & in the spirit of dreams & tea & also dreams, Self Help Radio explored tea in a dainty matter on last Friday's show. The subject of which was tea.

It's available to be listened to at selfhelpradio.net. I suggest you bring milk & sugar if you like that with your radio shows. Also, we're all out of cookies. Sorry. They went like cookie cakes. Is that the right expression?

6 Shows To Go!

Six is a magic number. It is the number of beers, sodas & wine coolers in an appropriately-named six-pack. When two sixes are together, they can be a retired age or a famous route. Also, if three sixes are near each other, they signify a beast. This doesn't apparently happen with four sixes, which is a time in the distant future when the United States finally gets out of Iraq.

Six is the number of the shows I have left on KOOP. Do I have to keep saying that I plan to continue Self Help Radio as an obscure podcast? (From an obscure radio show to an obscure podcast! Ha!) Okay, I won't.

I should continue to remind you that KOOP is having its Spring Membership Drive, so you most certainly should be giving money to this fine radio station. If you do it during Self Help Radio (which is today, you know, from 4:30 to 6pm), it'll be a small salve to my damaged self-esteem, but if you do it during any other time, I don't mind - the money is for non-commercial radio, not my booze fund.

Listen! It'll be a tea party!

Talk To The Bears (In The Bear Suits)

I had the great pleasure to talk to Iain & Jan of Norwich England's proudest children, Bearsuit, when they were stranded here last weekend for SXSSSSS. Much thanks to that precocious little peanut, Lace, for letting me interrupt Ear Candy for the interview. If you want to hear the chat we had, along with a few Bearsuit tunes, you can listen in the usual place: selfhelpradio.net.

I remind you: soon I won't be on the radio & will only exist as a disembodied podcast. If you want to be reminded when my new podcasts come around, send me an email & I'll put you on a list. I'll be glad you care.

Whither Tea?

Why thank you! I will have a cup of tea. Two sugars please. Thanks so much.

This isn't herbal tea, is it? Ah, good! That's not really tea, now, is it? No, it's just some twigs & leaves disguised as tea. You & I know the difference, don't we! We don't just enjoy tea - we're not just tea enthusiasts, are we, no! We're lovers of tea & scholars of tea!

Quick! Name the four kinds of tea! You got it! Black tea, oolong tea, green tea & white tea. Say! Are those cookies over there? Don't mind if I do.

Do you know, some people don't even know where tea came from. Imagine! You can try to tell them that tea was enjoyed in China for thousands of years before any white fellow with a British accent sipped it in some manicured garden & they'll act as if you've called Jesus Christ a filthy cocksucker! It's true. But why deny this delicious beverage its true lineage? How does that denigrate it for the likes of us? Not at all, you're right! & yes, I'll have another cup!

No, tell even a relatively smart person that tea came to England through a marriage to a Portuguese princess & they'll get huffy & perhaps daydream about hitting us. Or try this: mention that the rise of tea in England parallels the rise of sugar consumption from the slave fields of the Caribbean - & note that the sweetest tea in the world is still drunk today in the American south - & they'll screw their faces up like they either having a stroke or a painful bowel movement. All this over tea! What an important libation!

Oh you know I would love to stay to have another cup, but I must be off. I don't mind this lackadaisical consumption of tea in a button-down setting, but I will let you know I prefer a more - shall we say - structured approach to my tea. So I am inviting you to my next tea party! I will be combining some Japanese & Chinese methods of preparation & service to some rituals I have been dreaming about lately, given to me in my sleep by FBI Agent Dale Cooper of television's Twin Peaks & by Stephen Strange, also known as Marvel Comics' sorcerer supreme, Dr. Strange. Please bring an appetite & protective headgear!

& thanks so much for the tea!

Preface To Tea: Is There Any More Sugar, Sugar?

All this talk about hot beverages has made me thirsty.

Here is a sentence that just popped into my head: "Emile Zola drinks the blood of a goose." It's important for you to understand that sentences like that just pop into my head with frightening regularity.

I have nothing personally against Emile Zola. Everything I know about doing laundry in the late 19th century I learned from him. But my head seems to want to spread malicious rumors about him in the present tense although he's very very dead.

What's worse, just now, I've been wanting my head to cause other ridiculous sentences to come into existence (with a pop!) but my head, as if it has performance anxiety, refuses to comply. What's up with that? Instead of sentences that are weird, here's the most recent sentence it has produced: "I'm sleepy." It followed that with "When I get home perhaps I should nap."

My head apparently will not perform on demand, so I must try to think of something else to get it to unwittingly do something that I need it to do if I every want you to believe that my brain creates odd sentences at random. So now I need to go back to my thirst, which will not & cannot be slaked by hot liquids.

What? You're as crazy as my head! They can put ice in tea? & they call it Iced Tea? & it's very common in the American south?

Well, fuck me.

Didn't you notice already?

Last week's stimulating show (har, har) about coffee is sitting on the burner waiting for you to have a cup over at selfhelpradio.net. Please to download.

Hey, & while you're listening, do notice that we're talking about something called a "membership drive." That's the name we give to our twice-yearly event when we ask for the support we need to survive. So while you're listening, scootch over to koop.org & help us out. Pretty please.

7 Shows To Go!

& nearly half of them are Membership Drive shows. So today you may not only tune in to hear at least ninety minutes worth of caffeinated talk & songs about coffee, but also you'll hear us ask nicely for money for the station's continued support. You can call during Self Help Radio today & make me feel loved, or you can visit KOOP's web site to donate online. Keeping independent radio independent - don't you wanna?

Yes, today's show is about coffee. Tune in! Only seven more chances to do that here in Austin! Live at 4:30 pm on the 91.7 frequency, or online at koop.org. Archived later at that web page I have.

Listen! Call! Give! Have a cuppa joe!

Be My Guest!

A nice fellow who happened to be female who also happened to be named Camille sat with me as we rescued a stranded hour of radio yesterday from 11am to noon. That show, in which I out my own mother as a necrophile, is available for listening to over at selfhelpradio.net. Do not tell my mother.

Also, as I am leaving the radio station soon, I am hoping you'll want to continue listening to my ridiculous show as a podcast. If that is the case, send me an email at shrpodcast at gmail dot com & I will put you on a list notifying you when new podcasts are uploaded. Doesn't that sound swell?

Whither Coffee?

According to facts that I "researched" online, Americans drink more 300 million cups of coffee a day - a third of the water consumption of Americans - basically one cup of coffee for every American, although of course YOU drink more. You stink of java, buddy.

Should we drink less coffee? Didn't I hear something about anti-oxidant levels in coffee? Or was that in an issue of Aquaman? Yes, it was. & no it wasn't. Stop reading & pay attention!

Some smarty-pants scientists with their data say coffee appears to reduce the risk of Alzheimer's disease, Parkinson's disease, heart disease, type 2 diabetes, cirrhosis of the liver, & the gout. But these benefits seem to come from coffee's caffeine content, & you know what? Drinking caffeinated coffee affects the arterial walls, & if you drink too much you can suffer from something unpleasantly called hypomagnesaemia (it hurts in the pants), not to mention coronary heart disease.

Coronary heart disease? Hey! I said not to mention it!

Students everywhere claim it helps their memory. I'll need another cup to remember where I read that.

When I was a kid, I thought coffee was like hot chocolate, because my mother always drank it with lots of sugar & cream. ("You want some coffee with that cream & sugar?") I still associate the smell of sweet coffee, & the pale swirly brown in the cup, with fond feelings of my mother on cold mornings. But I associate the bitterness of coffee with unhappiness in my twenties, especially espresso, which I used to cure my meth addiction. Only to get addicted to espresso. Damn it!

I want to do a show about coffee because I know how much you like it. I can do a show about Aquaman later. Your wet suit isn't going anywhere!

Preface To Coffee: Decaffeinate Me, Bitch

Coffee grows on trees. It's true. Look it up. Coffee does not just grow in houses owned by people named Maxwell. That's a damnable lie!

Coffee is loved by many people, most of whom are not famous. People like Voltaire & Balzac loved coffee, & they were famous. Now, of course, they're dead. Not all coffee lover are dead, either. Now that I think about it, they were also French. But please don't get me wrong - I don't think all coffee lovers are dead famous French men. I think, for example, some unknown French women have loved coffee.

I lost my train of thought. Do you know what scares me most about coffee? The way it stains things. Like coffee cups. Or teeth. Staining things is scary to me. But not staining. Although maybe staining.

When is the last time I had coffee? Don't ask me that! My dirty little secret this week is that I'm not a coffee drinker. I get my caffeine from beets. You heard me! I eat beets for their caffeine! What? Beets have no caffeine? Foiled again!

I must go. I leave you with: death by caffeine!

Eyes On The Side Of My Head

My shortest blog entry ever:

My show on Friday was my SXSW show. It's available for downloading & listening to selfhelpradio.net.

Do it. Do it now.

8 Shows To Go!

In this space, as I plan for the last eight Self Help Radios I do on KOOP, I would like to respond to one of the so-called "good ideas" my so-called "fans" have been so-called "sending me" (uh, I guess they are really sending them to me, sorry) (I get a little too excited with the scare quotes).

In particular, the one person who suggested that to "celebrate" the countdown of shows, I cut off a finger or two for every day, until, on the last show, I am down to only one. Helpfully, they suggest it could be a mixture of fingers & toes. Or maybe an ear, eye or nostril (!) could be subtracted. They write that they don't want to "inconvenience" me.

It seems to me that digital (& other) mutilation is a piss-poor way to "celebrate" anything, unless it's to celebrate getting rid of that ugly motherfucking thumb that has been mocking you, mocking you, mocking you since you were a child. Therefore I utterly & completely reject your idea. I will simply count the shows down in this manner, go home, & cry into my hands.

But don't be dissuaded! You can send me your suggestions anytime!.

Speaking of sadness & woe, you guessed it, show number 8 is today, & it's my show about bands I like that are coming to South By South South next week. My taste is of course more on the radio than yours, so perhaps you'll have to tune in.

If it's on the radio, it'll be on 91.7 fm.
If it's on the computer live, it'll be at koop.org.
If it's no longer March 7, it'll be at selfhelpradio.net.

See you there!

Subtle Frenzy

Hello, it's Thursday. I have looked through the list of bands coming to town next week until my eyes have started to feel sad. I am amazed at three things: 1) that so many bands are coming to town next week; 2) that so many of the bands coming to town next week have really awful names; & 3) that so many bands are coming to town next week that aren't very good.

I know, taste is a subjective thing (except, you know, with things like poo - no one likes the taste of poo), but still, as someone who puts his taste on the line every week (since everything I play is chosen by me & by a robot I built in the fourth grade), I have to say, wow. I am glad I don't have to fill more than a couple of hours of programming with this lot. Ouch.

I am of course just being silly, except about the names. Here is a list of some of the worst band names you can imagine in the universe I promise (I have left out most of the metal, "world" & hiphop names, because they are required to be ridiculous &/or include bad puns):

The Airborne Toxic Event (look, we got our name from a newspaper we opened at random!)
American Bang (wait. hunh?)
An Albatross (is the article required? i bet they have gotten mad at bloggers who forgot the article!)
A Thousand Knives Of Fire (rip Gary Gygax!)
Beasts and Superbeasts (they have weird zoos in Canada)
Bedroom Walls (I guess it beats "Kitchen Cupboards" - or does it?)
Between the Buried and Me (wait. what?)
Bound Stems (aw, they live near a florist!)
Carbon/Silicon (choose damnit!)
Care Bears on Fire (it's just not funny)
Cassettes Won't Listen (it's just not weird enough)
The Chocolate Horse (sounds delicious!)
Coconut Coolouts (sounds delightful!)
Collections of Colonies of Bees (sounds dangerous!)
The Crash That Took Me (since they're from Dallas, I assume they're talking about something financial)
Does It Offend You, Yeah? (does it embarrass you? no?)
Drop Dead, Gorgeous (someone should never have given them that comma)
The Dykeenies (this seems slightly offensive. & dumb)
Earthless (shoud've gone with "pantsless")
Envy On The Coast (since "landlocked shame" was taken)
Everlovely Lightningheart + Everthus the Deadbeats (okay, they're avant-garde-ish bands, but if they can't be clever enough to think up a good name, how clever do you think their music will be?)
Ex Cocaine (Post Cocaine would have been a much better name.)

& that's just the A-Es! I'd like to continue but I have to go to a meeting.

I'll end on a positive note: My favorite band name for a metal band at SXSW? Blunt Force Trauma. I am proud to say they're local!

Whither SXSW 2008?

Hello friends. I am writing this blog with something just a little like sadness, as this is probably the last time I will get to write about Austin's yearly clusterfuck called "South By South West." I will most probably not be in this city next year so I won't get to play bands that are coming to Austin in order to edutain you about my faves. & surely that is a sadness.

It reminds me of a time when I was squatting in a freebooter's flat in the port city of Port Arthur. Those were lonesome days with only the sound of the television tuned to the Game Show Network to keep me warmish. Years later, after a chilling rain, I attended the same television's funeral at a second-hand appliance store in nearby Corpus Christi & I truly remember thinking, "Thomas Worf was right, you can't go squat again." So too it shall be after this week's review.

& you shall surely see me standing outside the lovely offices of Entercom afterwards with tears streaming down my cheeks saying, "Oh God what have I done!" Then I'll be mugged by two coffee delivery boys as I am every Friday. They keep finding where I hide my money! Truly they are both mean & crafty!

But, as John Leopard Dirtypants has written in his fable "Zach & Dionne": Fuck yeah, life goes on, long after the trill & spilling is gone. So too I long for once more to trill & spill about this musical festival which nearly no one attends, & then I shall let it go, like I let go the remote of that long-ago pirate's television, dropping it in the grave prepared for it, & never thinking about it again.

Until now, you know. I had to think about it to make a point. Get it?

Preface To SXSW2008: Getting Fat On Tourist Dollars Is Fun!

In Austin, we like the tourists. They smell funny & they look funny but they seem to like this place we live in & they bring us lots of money. Mmm, money.

However, money isn't everything, & certainly that is a lesson that South By South West teaches us. Fame is also important. Also, getting people to scramble about madly from place-to-place to catch a few admittedly unsatisfying minutes of one's favorite band when they are definitely not at their best because they've been scheduled to play after a sixteen piece jam band at a venue that was a used book store recently converted to a "space" for bands only after three interns at South By South West International were dispatched to the City Codes office to offer sexual favors for anyone who could expedite the process. Yes, besides money, there's fame & desperation. Mmm, desperation.

I confess I don't spend money on "wristbands" nor do I use my considerable media muscle (ahem) to force my way into venues. But I do drink a lot of an evening & weep into my hands while no one's looking. But I also do that at other times besides South By South Ugh, so that's not important. What is important is that the city thinks you're a moderately well-off (but distant) relative & is glad you're leaving on Sunday. It completely expects you to pay for everything while you're here & that's why it doesn't mind if you throw up all over the place (like you will).

This is true for the musicians, too. I mean, come on! We're a city that doesn't even appreciate the musicians we got! So feel free to despoil our children & drink our watered-down well drinks - you're going to be racking up some debt while you're here, believe you me.

Yes, tourists reinforce Austin's self-importance, & well that should. Listen - if you didn't come twice a year now (also for the ACL thing in the fall), this damn city might actually have to get a job!

If I Were Billy Preston...

This is an embarrassing thing to discuss in what amounts to a group setting because I don't spend a whole lot of time imagining what I would do if I could be someone else or even wanting to be someone else & let's be honest here most folks who spend a lot of time imagining what they'd do if they were someone else are not really imagining what they would do but rather imagining just being that other person & doing whatever that person did because the reason you'd want to be a specific person outside of yourself is not the ineffable qualities of that person somehow applied to your condition but instead you experiencing what you have decided are amazing moments in some much famous person's life & it being you rather than the person inspiring another person like you but which isn't you which is my way of saying that since I don't really do that I probably wouldn't want to be Billy Preston as I don't really have much of a yen to reproduce much of what he did in this life except perhaps appear in the motion picture Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band if only to hang out with underrated British comedian Frankie Howerd & to also fulfill a lifelong wish to beat the living shit out of Maurice Gibb.

This doesn't mean I don't like Billy Preston or don't like the song "Will It Go Round In Circles" (I fucking love that song). Just that I wouldn't want to be him, in the same way I wouldn't want to be pretty much any musician. You're the one who brought up Billy Preston. It could easily have been Patsy Cline or Nick Cave or Holger Czukay.

Now that that's out of the way, may I remind you that you experienced a "leap day" this year, on February 29, & you won't get to do that for four more years now, but you can return to ninety delicious minutes of that day as they were celebrated on Self Help Radio simply by visiting selfhelpradio.net. I don't know this for a fact but I have it on good authority that if enough of us experience that show over & over we may also add an extra day to March!