Memory Device

"And I am on the switches and dragons."


Ask Ty…June 29

Q: Hey, Ty! Did you get an iPhone (tm)?

- Various

Ty: Various, good question and an even better observation.

Nope. Why? I'm weening from mobile phone. I'm experiencing periods of blissful solitude away from Wiki, Google, and filthy porn (JK). I take walks without the iPod.

Great device, that iPhone, I bet. But, I'm up to here with devices. Fuck it. And, please, I really don't need another status accessory (I am me after all).

There is a life. If you have to have an iPhone, you're either a mope or just plain insecure (or a unhealthy combo of the two). Me? I'm cool where I am with wires up to my calves, guitars strewn about, and a computer with dial-up and a hand crank for power (the healthy combo of mopeness and insecurity).

Maybe I'm showing some reactance to the hype. Nothing personal, Apple, but I ain't your sucker no more. So, there you have it. I mean, could you really see me camping out to wait in a goddamn line? Please. That's just uncouth.

Just a guess. - Ty

In & Around (Regions : Rejects)


Memory Device

"Don was off his hitches and wagons."

It' So True

People are the weakest link. Stick with me here.

I had heard that this sign existed. On interstate 270, lane one (the "fast" lane) is designated as the HOV lane (carpool lane, or as they say here, "High Occupancy Vehicle"). Whatever.

Southbound, heading toward D.C. and work for most people, the times the HOV lane is reserved (and subject to ticketing/points for violations) from 6:00 a.m. until 9:00.

Rush hour, right?

Northbound, heading home to the burbs for most people, the reserved/ticketed times are 3:30 through 6:30.

This sign - 6:00 - 9:00 a.m. - appears on the northbound (end of day) lane. It's a subtle thing. But, it's something to keep forever.

Oh, and it's kind of a hard thing to shoot. But, there it is; to keep forever.




"And this gets to why you should care about the iPhone even if you aren't buying one. Today everyone uses a Mac. Even if you've got a Windows PC at your desk, you're really sitting down to a computer based on an idea first offered to the public by Steve Jobs in 1984. The mouse, the menus, the windows -- they were all on Mac first, and they spread to those of us who didn't buy directly into Jobs' regime only because Apple's competitors saw the Mac's features as vital to their own success. Go out to any consumer electronics store now and you'll see the same dynamic playing out for music devices: Everything on the market looks and feels like the iPod and offers much the same features.

It could happen for phones, too. You may not buy an Apple, but it's possible your next cellphone will claim to be a fantastic "Internet communicator" and will offer a great way to surf the Web. If that happens, thank Apple."

- Farhad Manjoo


Gettin' Ralphed, Suckas!

"But like a lot of people I talk to, especially those contemplating a vote for Nader, I am also vexed by a nagging voice in my head, which keeps articulating two words over and over: Supreme Court. Supreme Court. Supreme Court."

Memo to Nader voters, Bruce Shapiro, Salon, Sept. 25, 2000

"Nader bristles at what he calls a "betrayal" by progressive Democrats who have turned on him -- particularly abortion rights leaders who have questioned his comments on abortion. They warn that a Bush win would lead to conservative Supreme Court justices reversing decisions like Roe v. Wade, which legalized abortion rights.

Nader dismissed that argument, noting that many Democrats voted to confirm conservative justices Antonin Scalia and Clarence Thomas to the Supreme Court while he and other liberal activists opposed them -- "And now they've got the temerity to lecture me about the Supreme Court?"

Nader considers abortion a settled question, and that any GOP attempt to overturn Roe would be a political disaster. But the more pressure he gets to fold, the more defiant he gets.""

Defiant Nader ignores Democrats' fears in key states, Bob Franken, CNN, November 1, 2000
You decide, suckas.


The Girl Sez: Thumb Up!

Must be for Taco Bar because the Phillies suck.



The movie!

Only for those with keen patience!


See Dick smile!


[from BDW]

The War Against Terror

I heard someone use the word "twat" today.

How funny is that?

In & Around

Dick Cheney


Can't stop listening to Icky Thump.

Barfin' Arfin

"Dads need to get over it and accept that their little buddy is a woman now and she's not going to tell him everything that happened at school or hang our with him all the time. Not for ten years anyway."
-Lesley Afrin, Dear Diary




From Merkley??? via BDW:
I'm not a photographer.

Photographers carry around big cameras, big lights,
big flash contraptions and little meters, they talk
about film stock, ISO's, F stops and capturing the
perfect light right before dusk.

Photographers creep through neighborhoods of poor
people looking for interesting poverty related things
to "capture" in black and white or muted color.

Photographers spend lots of time in cramped dark rooms
with red lights and chemicals that smell like egg

Photographers get in heated exchanges about the
direction Leica is headed or that one camera maker
that sounds all german, hasselhoff?

Photographers have lots of lenses that they will tell
you about whether you ask them or not, like the one
that can see an ass hair on a mosquito or the
remarkably "bright" one that can photograph the pope's
underwear tag from a tower in hell.

Photographers say "glass" a lot, "Thats a nice piece
of glass you got there Danny." which would be funny if
it was a joke. No it wouldn't.

Photographers show you shoes hanging on wires, pink
boxes in the green weeds, little black girls with blue
eyes and nuns sitting under billboards of naked men.

Photographers have all kinds of cameras, most of them
are rare and vintage but they love to remind you that
their absolute favorite cameras are crappy plastic
cameras they found at the thrift store for 25 cents.

Photographers LOVE Polaroid because you can take a
picture of absolutely ANYTHING with a Polaroid and it
will look like you got your BFA.

Photographers know the names of every other
photographer who ever lived and they can tell you
exactly who took the first picture of an old barn door
or a naked girl on a sofa.

Photographers talk about how little they use photoshop
IF AT ALL, and even then it's only to "adjust some
curves" or "make the blacks a little more black."

Photographers make use of make up artists,
hairdressers, location scouts and stylists which is
way way WAY different than photoshopping out zits and

Photographers freeze moments to show the REALITY. They
love that word, "reality" also they like to say "RAW"
a lot.

Photographers have websites with big black or red sans
serif fonts on white backgrounds.

Photographers put their client list at the bottom of
the side bar where it looks like they don't really
care about it but just in case you didn't like their
photographs you can see who did.

Photographers list their accomplishments in a timeline
so just in case you didn't like their photographs you
can see who did. Wait, did I just say that?

Photographers have strong opinions about Terry

Photographers get upset about cropping.

Photographers like the anticipation, surprise,
expense, delay, grain, smell, challenge, discipline,
texture, and overall unpredictable "magic" of analog,
soo opposite of effing digital.

Photographers use the word amateur to describe most
other photographers.

Photographers miss the good old days when photography
was expensive and out of reach to amateurs.

Photographers blame the lab a lot.

Photographers go to school to study photography
because you can't tell if a photo is good just by
looking at it.

Photographers whisper cutting edge poetic gems like
"digital has no soul."

Photographers only really like 2 or 3 other
photographers, the one's whose photographs most
resemble their own and they like to keep those books
right out on the coffee table where everyone can see

Photographers think all commentary about photography
and photographers is likely directed at them.

So yeah, I don't give a stumbling poop about any of
that stuff.

I'm not a photographer.

Whoops! (Bong Hits 4 Jesus)

Justice Clarence Thomas took a much different approach. He said that Mr. Frederick had no First Amendment rights to violate.
“In light of the history of American public education, it cannot seriously be suggested that the First Amendment ‘freedom of speech’ encompasses a student’s right to speak in public schools. I am afraid that our jurisprudence now says that students have a right to speak in school except when they don’t.”

Free Paris - Oh Thank God!

Though I believe I get her.


Big Brother vs. The GTI

It's enough to bring out the libertarian ire.

Montgomery County Safe Speed Automated Ticketing System
Thank you for using the Montgomery County online ticket payment.
Date: 06/25/2007
Time: 4:06 PM
Reference Number: 501968
Amount Paid: 40.00
Type of Payment: Single Item
Method: Visa
Credit Card: ********6405
Registration: MD101AYC
Document Number: mc0163940
Document Type: Ticket

[File Under: Duh! is a registered trademark of MiddlespaceCo Worldwide]




Right now I feel at the very top of my art. Book/picture taking going splendidly. Best album ever.

So, what I finish these projects then, what, suck after that? I mean, I know there's a lot more to learn and try, but what if it's all crap after that?

Frightening, huh?

Old News: Irony v. Anomaly

Careening parade car kills four in crowd

June 17, 2007

SELMER, Tenn. – A drag-racing vehicle lost control during a parade and spun into a crowd of bystanders yesterday, killing four adults and injuring up to 15 people, authorities said.

Investigators were trying to determine what caused the vehicle to careen into the crowd at the Cars for Kids charity event in Selmer, about 80 miles east of Memphis.

Scott Henley of Selmer said the vehicle started burning off its tires, then began to fishtail and slammed into a light pole before spinning around into the audience.

Associated Press

Secret military rocket has mishap

CAPE CANAVERAL, Fla. – A rocket carrying an intelligence-gathering payload for the Pentagon suffered a technical problem after its launch, officials said.

They were confident yesterday that its secret mission would be performed.

The Atlas V rocket was launched Friday morning, hauling a payload from the National Reconnaissance Office, a division of the Department of Defense that builds and operates spy satellites.

The reconnaissance office said Friday night that the launch was successful, but the rocket's Centaur upper stage later had a “technical anomaly which resulted in minor performance degradation.” Officials did not elaborate and have not said exactly what the rocket was carrying or how it would be used.

Associated Press

I Love The Ocean

But I hate the beach.

Why I hate the beach - a five-item list:
  1. Sun
  2. Sand
  3. Water
  4. People
  5. Me
But, I love the ocean.

My Conversation With Mary

So, when in California, I always make it a point to go to the grocery store. Even if on business, I head to the grocery store. Why? It's the love!

I live in one of the surliest customer service area in America (tm). So, it's always a treat and a shock to shop in California.

My Conversation with Mary
Why Are You Being So Nice to Me? Do I Have Cancer?

Albertsons in North San Diego
Mary (checker): Hello, good morning! Did you find everything you were looking for?

Me (dumbass): Uh, yeah. Thanks, in fact I did.

Mary: Do you want to type in your phone number for your savings?

Me: Uh, thanks, but I'm not from this region.

Mary: Oh, where are you visiting from?

Me: Uh, D.C. Uh, Maryland.

Mary: Oh, that's terrific! Are you visiting friends?!

Me: Uh, yeah. Good friends from small times.

Mary: Great! Well, you can enter their number for your savings.

Me: Uh, yeah, uh, I don't know their number...uh, it's in my phone...uh, back at their house.

Mary: Oh, that's too bad. You can use mine. Type in: 858-243-1876.

Me: Uh, oh, I already pushed the payment button.

Mary: Oh, I'll just back you right out of that!

Me: Uh, O.K.

Mary: O.K. 858...243...

Me: Uh, 8

Mary: 1876.

Me: O.K.

Mary: There you go! Seventy-two cents savings! Enjoy your day and have a great trip!

Me: Uh...
Ha! The best part was Mary wasn't putting on some show. She was sincerely nice and eager to help me find what I needed and to save me that $.72. If it killed her, she was going to make me happy. The best part was that there was another customer behind me. She was totally cool and patient about waiting fro dumb ass me. She even smiled and nodded my direction.

This is what I've become accustomed to:

My Conversation with [Blank, Crooked Name Tag]
Why Am I Giving These People My Money? Am I Stupid?

CVS in Northwest D.C.
[Blank, Crooked Name Tag] (checker): Next!

Me (dumbass): Good morning!

[Blank, Crooked Name Tag]: Huh?

Me: Uh....

The B On God, Boogers & Goofy

1. Boogers - Just so you know:
"Nose boogers are yellow. Eye boogers are white."
- The B

2. God - So, while in San Diego, in fact, on the first day, the B asked the question. You know the question. She whispered, "Is god real?"

Whew buddy. It's me, her Catholic raised mother (who has practicing Catholic parents), and good friend and San Diego host Marnie. What to do? What to do? Ah! I immediately bit my cheeks and shut the hell up. Her mother paused as well.

But, the one thing I've always admired about Marnie is the fact that she has huge ovaries (guys have "balls"). Marnie immediately chimed in: "Yes. I believe god is real. I once wrote a paper in college about god being real and it was called one of the best college papers ever written."

Boom! Just like that. So, it's fight or flight time (ha!). I can either defend my belief or shoot down a highly reputable source: Marnie.

I tried the, "Well honey, different people believe different things and that's okay" approach. But, Marnie, bless her heart (ha!) was persistent. Gotta hand it to her, she didn't back down from her belief. I had to resort to the, "Well honey, there is absolutely no data, evidence, or scientific fact supporting the existence of any extra-spiritual being like a so-called "god.""

So, there you have it. I'm not going to independently bring up the topic with the child. I still think that if she someday wants to believe, so be it. But, if she asks, I'm going to give her my perspective. I will not poo-poo any one else's perspective (Marnie), but I will let her choose. That was actually a difficult one.

But, if push came to shove, sure god is real. As real (the perception) as the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Big Foot, Santa Claus, and democracy. God is a business.

3. Goofy - So, the kids were watching some Disney (tm) TeeVee (hi-def, plasma, by the way) and were doing what kids do. They were choosing which character they would be. You know, "I'm Mickey!" Kind of setting the social hierarchy.

Well, the oldest kid immediately selected Mickey. The 6 year-old girl was, "I'm Mickey." The 3 year-old boy (the 6 year-old's brother - experience with this) proclaimed, "I'm Mickey" as well. Figures.

Well, I was kind of curious what the B would choose. Given no experience with this game (for what I know) and little exposure to Disney (tm) characters (for what I know), I was kind of sure she would go with "I'm Mickey" also (for what I know). I was certain she wouldn't go with Minny. She hates that shit. The scene opened with Mickey, Minny, Donald, Pluto, and Goofy.

Well the girl chose "I'm Goofy."

At first, I was horrified. I mean, Goofy? WTF? But, once I give it some thought, why not Goofy. Think about it. Who has the most fun? Not Mickey, right? Mickey has to be the brand ambassador for Disney (tm). He's Tiger Woods. He cannot swear, fart, or pick his nose. He has to be on game 24/7. He is the company. He doesn't drink, puke, or do it with anyone (even Minny). Mickey Mouse (tm) doesn't shit.

Donald? Don't fool yourself. Donald Duck (Bonald Buck) isn't nearly as carefree as he comes across. He's sticking to his talking points too. He has to sell the schtick. And, it's stupid schtick. He's trying to wait out Mickey's tenure, but Mickey's not going anywhere. So, Donal will forever be second fiddle (George H.W. Bush to Ronald Reagan). At least Disney (tm) had the courtesy to (if not promote Donald) give him Daisy. But with Daisy came those stupid spin-off brats.

Pluto? Insignificant. A retarded dog.

But, Goofy? Rock on! Goofy can do no wrong: He's fucking goofy for Christ's sake! Fart? Yep. Puke? Yep. Get into fights? Damn right. Goofy is basically Johnny Knoxville, Mickey's junkie cousin.


From California:
Hebrew National doesn't advertise so that you'll want to go out and
buy a HN dog immediately. That only works when Dominos advertises
pizza delivery during dinner or Taco Bell advertises at 11:30 at

The Hebrew Nation is paying it's hard earned dollars so that the next
time you go to the store and you see a 12-pack of HN dogs for 3.99 and
a 12-pack of Jimmie Jerk-off's Mystery Sausages for 2.99 you say, "Oh,
Hebrew National is reputable enough to advertise with the San Diego
Padres(TM). It must be worth the extra dollar."

Cars on the other hand, are just in a retarded arms race against each
other. It's unlikely that you're ever going to go, "NEEEE-san? Never
heard of it. I'll buy the one from the baseball game." In fact, if
you haven't heard of a car, it's probably because it's twenty times
better than that hunk of crap you're driving (and out of your price
range). Or because it's from Bulgaria. In which case, buy the one
from the baseball game.
Well, California, the interesting thing about this whole advertising thread is that I, a pesudo-social psychologist was at the game with a real Ph.D. social psychologist. In fact, there was a time when I was a teacher and mentor to this psychologist. You see, though beautiful and fashionable, I'm quite the intellect. You cold even call me a "geek." Not the chicken head eating type, but hte bookish, inquisitive type of geek.

The point is, I love this shit. Advertising? I was only wrong on the topic once. I was twelve. Yeah, influence? Persuasion? Grifting? Shit, that's my schtick. I invented the con game. Born into it and will die in it.

My Ph.D. adviser considers me one of the most influential people he's ever met. Intuitive in term of how people and groups, groups and people interact. I get it and I can make it happen.

So yeah, you're right. Sometimes I play the dumb guy for the blog. I go, like, "WTF?" when I perfectly well know exactly WTF? Yes, I wrote that folks would suddenly flock out of Petco to go get some Heebie Nats. No, that's not gonna happen, but it gets in the brain. Major corporations and big time sports? Shit yeah, they know what they're doing in terms of product and name placement.

When it comes to "Jimmie Jerk-off's Mystery Sausages" versus "Hebrew National" yeah, 90% of customers will identify Heebie Nats as a more recognizable brand; more reputable, of higher quality, and probably of a better taste. But, people without money will buy Jimmie Jerk-offs, right. Gotta stretch the buck. But, Heebie Nats spend a great deal of money to ensure brand superiority. Now, there is a minimal return on the investment at Padres' Petco Park (Guess the Attendance). It's probably a negative return. That is they ain't making money by putting their name up there. But, they're putting their name up there.

Mere exposure.

So, from the Wiki (so I don't have to explain it myself):
Exposure effect is a psychological phenomenon well known to advertisers: people express undue liking for things merely because they are familiar with them. This effect has been nicknamed the "familiarity breeds liking" effect. In interpersonal attractiveness research studies, the term exposure principle is used to characterize the phenomenon in which the more often a person is seen by someone the more pleasing and likeable that person appears to be.

Simply exposing experimental subjects to a picture or a piece of music briefly led those subjects to later rate it more positively than other, similar stimuli which they had merely not been shown earlier. In another experiment, students were shown a Chinese character on a tachistoscope faster than could be perceived consciously. Later, students were asked to say whether they thought specific characters were positive or negative adjectives. Those characters that had been previously subliminally exposed to the students were rated more positively than those that had not. When asked, the students were able to cite specific and detailed reasons why they preferred the characters that they did (which could have been at least partially due to rationalization).

The effect might be explained by the idea that recognizing a familiar environment makes us feel safe. This effect was first studied by Robert Zajonc. A related effect relevant to advertising and propaganda is the sleeper effect.
[proof I know what I'm talking about: to pronounce Zajonc correctly, keep in mind it rhymes with "science" - ha!]

Yes, you probably sometimes wonder, "why the hell does Coca Cola (tm) still even bother to advertise? They own the market share and everyone knows the brand as superior.

Believe me. Advertisers are smarter than the customers. That's why, 1) people still buy shit (even I still buy shit), and 2) why there's more advertising than ever -- it's literally everywhere. Just looking around I see at least a dozen subtle and explicit solicitations.

Coca Cola (tm) wouldn't have to spend another dime on advertising (or even another penny) and still retain market share in perpetuity. But, they just spent $4.1 billion dollars on Vitamin Water (tm) too. It's why, for example, Ford bought Jaguar and Range Rover (and now that their own product sucks so bad, it's why they're selling Jaguar and Range Rover). Losers.

What gives? Stockholders. Stock price. Profits. Theirs, like any business, in in business to make dough. Duh. But, dough requires growth. If you sell 6 billion units of Coke this year and 6 next year, your stock price will probably decrease. Not only will someone not make money, someone may even lose some money.

Anyway, Taco Bell (tm/a division of PesiCo) knows stoners love their food. LOVE IT! Not only did they increase their drive-through hours to 11:00 p.m. and then to 24 hours, they fucking invented the beautiful term, "Forth Meal." And to correct the phat phreaks, forth mean is not about the justification of obesity, but it's the cure for the munchies. Don't believe me? Go to the site: [clicky]

I've always been kind of afraid to go into advertising myself. I believe the money would be sweet, but I'd totally sell out.


Tell Me Something I Don't Know

So, I'm at this birthday party for a five year-old. Right? A great party. Lawn party. Pony rides, petting zoo. Burgers, dogs. Beer!

The mom (Stephanie) puts on her "mom mix" on the iPod and I'm listening to some good tunes from the '70s and the '80s when it happened.

I'm drinking my beer(s) and Rufus featuring Chaka Kahn's monster hit, Tell Me Something Good comes on. I've forgotten three important things about his song:
  1. It is so goddamn slow. The deliberate nature of the piece makes you pay close attention.
  2. While the singing is stellar the musicianship and the music are stellar-er.
  3. It's possibly the hardest hard core slow jam of all time. No lie.
So, I buy it. $.99 from iTunes (second Apple Inc. reference of this posting). I open another beer - at home now - an put on the headphones. I could seriously listen to this song over and over all night and not get sick of it. Slow jam. Sensual. Bad.

I look up some information on the piece on AMG (from 1974's Rags to Rufus album). Uh, duh! Ka-boom!
The biggest hit here, "Tell Me Something Good," is a rare instance of an artist like Stevie Wonder giving away a tune that he could have had a big hit with himself. That being said, it was Khan's playful and sensual vocal that put it over the top.
Oh, Little Stevie Hardaway wrote that one. Oh. Everything makes sense at some point.

You think I'm kidding? Try me.


So, I'm back from San Diego and am nearly over my usual post-California depression. I always get in a fairly serious funk because I'm leaving the homeland. The place that I get and that gets me. My home. The west (the best). Cali. Cal. The golden state. Blah-blah-blah. And I'm always leaving the best-est of friends behind.

Fuck! Whatever. I'm still (and I mean it) going back someday. I may be old and crippled and full of dementia, but I'm totally (and I mean it) going back. Quote me, suckers.

1. Speaking of dementia.... Huh? What was I saying? Dammit, this always happens.... Oh yeah, speaking of dementia, I feel it's perfectly acceptable to not want to be an old geezer who can't even remember the last time I.... Huh? Who are you? Oh yeah, I don't want to be a baby again. I don't want to be fed. I don't want to be fucking changed. Nope.

I think the best course of actions is as follows:
  1. Place loaded, cocked .45 (a la HST) in a safe deposit box.
  2. Place tattoo in obvious place that says, "If this tattoo doesn't make any sense get your ass to the Main Street Bank - safe deposit box 1024 (key and directions are in pink elephant on mantle [or whatever, details can be worked out]) - look inside - thank self for the future gift."
  3. Follow instructions.
  4. Thank self for future gift.
  5. Boom! Ha-ha!
I know, people are all bummed out about this rather practical directive. But, I believe that's just them having death denial issues. People don't want to be like that. I certainly don't. Uh-uh, nope. No way. Anyway...what was I saying.

Oh yeah, San Diego. What did I do?

2. I went on a mountain bike ride. No, not a recreational ride. I mean a real ride. With five other guys that were either good, young, knowledgeable of the terrain, or in good shape. Or combinations therein. Me? I was none of the above. The last time I went on a real ride was like in 1995. Ha! So, whatever, you only live once, right? See above, what, I'm not going to go? No way. I'm going every time until I literally cannot.

So, this one guy, Doug (who used to be a road bike racer at UCLA, i.e. chops city), asks me, "so you ride?" I'm like, "Nope. Not in a long time." He laughs like I'm kidding. Whatever. Oh, and I haven't ridden clip-less in a decade either. Basically, I was headed out to die.

These guys kicked my ass. I knew I was in trouble at minute 3 into the two plus hour ride when we "dropped in" here (see pic). Yes, there's a trail there. This is the biggest trail of the ride. The best part was this bushwhacked loop that was actually under the sage brush. There was a canopy. So, you are simultaneously trying to ride single-track, loose dirt trails and not take your head off.

I could go on. Let's just say, I only fell about five times. Ran completely out of energy. Walked the bike down and up several hills (the best part of being my age is knowing my limits) and opted out of two loops. I survived with only one sore ass and a few very minor scrapes. Good for me. Ha! Somehow this is a victory.

The worst part is now I have the bug. In my head I'm all like, shit, I could easily do this - there were several times on the ride where I had my legs/chops and felt natural - if only I had the equipment. The slippery slope.

3. I discovered the Orioles were in town. In San Diego. God bless interleague play. Blech! So, through the magic of Fathers Day, Mark and I ended up with tickets (to the Toyota Terrace level - $49.50 seats).

No, I know there has always been a lot of advertising in baseball and all of professional sports. But, sometimes you have to laugh at what has to be either shrewd marketing or just plain careless marketing. I mean, Toyota Terrace? WTF?

At what point are the returns to your company not equal or greater than the cash you laid out? I mean, Toyota Terrace? So, Hebrew National feels it's a wise business decision to sponsor the little "Guess the Attendance" schtick in the 8th. Like, "I had such a good time at the game. Especially the Petco Park Guess the Attendance presented by Hebrew National. I was right on too guessing 24,384 paid tickets." So, am I to go buy some franks now? Like I said, WTF?

In fact, there's no longer a moment of peace in any professional - major or minor - event. We entered to the recorded announcements about how to enjoy our "Petco Park experience" to having to sit through dozens, possibly hundreds of ads interspersed throughout the game. Each batter even had 30 seconds of some lame ass song to accompany him to the plate.

Anyway.... Where was I? Oh yeah, so I'm back from San Diego and am nearly over my usual post-California depression. I always get in a fairly serious funk because I'm leaving the homeland. The place that I get and that gets me. My home. The west (the best). Cali. Cal. The golden state. Blah-blah-blah. And I'm always leaving the best-est of friends behind.

Lawyers Think We're Stupid

Oh, that shoulder...

Hey! There's a picture of me in here!

Untitled (of a future gifting sort)

Blood Is Thicker Than Mud

There's a story here that's so wonderful and beautiful and touching that I will never have the words to tell it. You just have to trust me. Because blood is thicker than mud.

June (is busting out all over)

Up (Sample)



The Difference

So, what's different about this project - at least since moving to California, I've always gone into an album with a plan, a rough sketch of tone, message, meaning. I've had a sense of the arc of the album.

And same deal with the songs. I know what I want the songs to be when I start. I don't always end up there. I let myself be taken where the process leads, but I've always had a point on the horizon to aim for.

For this [project], there is no plan. I'm not even sure it will ever be an "album" or a collection or a gathering of anything. I have no sense and no desire to sense what the final product will be at either the album or even the song level. The songs have no direction when they start out. Rather than plans, I have ideas. And sometimes, not even that. Sometimes I just push the red button and see what comes out of the guitar. It's new and very liberating. Oh, I have two guitar licks I can string together? I'll record those and send them to Ty and see what he does with them. Then I'll see what I do with that.


I'm sure some day we'll gather, collect, cut, chop, paste, reconfigure, modify, mash, and cram this into something resembling a 30-60 minute album. But right now, I'm happy just making the music that comes aimlessly to the fingers.
- RPW, California

Just Filthy

Posse Up



Coal Miners: Disinterested

Faces From A Vacation