May Day

Tell me about your suffering
Awl are hart goze owt two ewe
[That's better!]
If you can hang on a bit longer...
[Go 'head, girl, get down]
Running 'round A may pole
[Lay me down on cotton sheets]

It's May Day again, don
And we have grown up to(o)
Create our own g-ddamn omens
Nudges inspiration & reward structures
[I stand up next to a mountain]
But all our suffering is through
[Nothing satisfies but I'm getting closer]

I'm beating the shit out of my brain right now
And the pony, she no runnink, señior
But surprisingly there is no panic...
[Tell me about your suffering, don]
The waiting period

Sure there are the "gems of the day"
And that felt good, right?
Characters with better voices
Ideas though

Odd being so sharp, fast
On top of every ripple
Feeling like a hummingbird
Amongst the albatross
[That's why I think I got a rich kid's blues]

At what point can you
Stop to smell the metaphor?
Like the Reverend Reggie Jackson said:
I Am Somebody!


[comments re-open tomorrow or shortly thereafter...maybe]

Keep Produuucing, Man®

Noni Questions Intentions and Motivations

to: ty hardaway
from: noni
date: 04.30.09
subject: Who knows you?

Who is this Karl? I like the way "Karl" doesn't think you'd prank your friends and loved ones. Born yesterday or what? That's all you do!

I believe that you'd totally invent scenario where you bait people into discussing something that doesn't or never existed...doesn't anyone know how much you love to use the word "sukkkkaaazzz?"

What? Lemme essplane, Lucy:

I posted a simple post about how I was dipping into a bit of a creative rut--a normal thing that happens to actively creative people--and my closest friends sent very kind emailings (since the comments were off) of support. Everyone from Sistine to TL Bridges to Greyman to BSD to Cassady wrote with kind words of sympathy and empathy.

Lily (America's Sweetheart) playfully suggested that my deep pain was a ploy, a project, a bit. But she was simply helping me float until I caught hold of some floating metaphor baton to run with. Lily (full disclosure) has been the creative energy behind most of my work for at least seven years now. So she knows. But she was being "creative" and not actually suggesting that I'd make a bit out of my innermost pain.

Karl was wise enough and bold enough to suggest that maybe Lily was right. Karl's point is not moot. I mean, you know me (down w/ OPP), I sometimes use my own frustrations as fodder for my work...but as a bit? No, no, no.

Now now you, Noni, have the audacity (not of hope either) to question Karl (and Lily) and to insinuate that I'd prank anyone? What-evs.

You need to come back to your senses, Noni...they miss you!

The My Problem Thread: [clicky]

Keep Produuucing, Man®

An Observation

to: ty hardaway
from: karl
date: 04.29.09
subject: Lily's Observation

What Lily has written in her email...I thought that too but dismissed it as something that you wouldn't do to your friends and family.

So is she right?

Good question (and even better observation). No, she's not right that it was all a set up. What Lily's doing is nudging me out of a dip before it becomes a slump. Smart move on her part and very, very kind. But she's right that I've now (thanks in part to her) made something out of it.

The My Problem Thread: [clicky]

Keep Produuucing, Man®



Lily's On to Me!

to: ty hardaway
from: lily
date: 04.29.09
subject: Project Coming: Drought Summer/Spring 2009 - Sukkkas!

Very clever, but I'm on to you! I know how you work after all these years, Mr. The "process" of sharing with us that you may have come to end of your creative stretch is, in fact, your current project.

In short: no project = the project

Nicely played, but you can't fool me.

-Lily Shiksa

Smart, that Lily.

The My Problem Thread: [clicky]

Keep Produuucing, Man®

Rickey's Response to Me and My "Problem"

to: ty hardaway
from: rickey
date: 04.28.09
subject: You and Your "Problem"

1) Right before he gave himself a buckshot lobotomy, Kurt Cobain said in an interview that he had used his last song-writing ideas on In Utero. He said that up until that point, he had always had other ideas for stuff to do, but after In Utero, he was done. In Utero is a very good album (note to self, go listen to In Utero), but in hindsight, it's clear that he was drawing from the same well as Nevermind and the well had perhaps run dry.

2) I'm going to break your shovel* soon and you will be so pissed with jealous rage that you will come swinging and hurling creativity without thought, strategy, or concern for your own well-being.

3) At some point early this morning, the thought entered my head that this is the best Spring of my life.**

4) You can act like your creative well has gone dry, or is at least waiting for the rain to recharge the aquifer. But the truth is, [XXXXX XXXX XXX XX XXXX. XX XXX XXX XXX XXX X XXXX XXXX XX XXX XXXX XXX ANYTHING (XXX XX XX XX TeeVee, XX XX X XXXX, XXXX XXXX XXXXXXX)*** you would be aflush with ideas and projects. The mind forgets so easily. Which is good, because then you can have those "Oh right, THIS" moments.

5) As always, ride it out.

* "Break your shovel" is a long-standing in-joke
** I stole the "best spring" line for another post
*** Secrets to creativity censored for your protection

The My Problem Thread: [clicky]

Keep Produuucing, Man®

Moon Hole 1 & 2

One Hundred Days

Egads! Has that wholly artificial, totally contrived 100-day hurdle already come and gone? Already? Where have I been? Doesn't it feel like only yesterday John Roberts was trying to trick Obama into not saying the oath of office with his characteristic "articulate" eloquence of words? Was that whole Sarah Palin thing just a weird late night Thai food and tequila dream? After a campaign that felt like purgatory, we've actually made it to a hundred days of the new president's presidency. Wow, it's the best spring of our lives!

President Obama. Has a nice ring to it, huh? Lyrical. Not abrupt like President Bush or hickey like President Clinton. President Obama. It's like a hopeful breath of change air. It's amazing that after all the fear mongering about having a negro Muslim socialist president we've basically got on our hands what Ralph Nader would call, "a negro Muslim socialist president." And before you get torqued, it is a good thing we have a negro Muslim socialist president because that old shit -- white Christian capitalist president thing -- was not working for damn sure. We didn't get a bumbling fool or a robot. We did not get, as feared, a thug who would send all the white people to internment camps (although I called all my white friends on January 21 to inform them that they could pack one bag and the bus was on the corner).

Obama is not perfect. But George Washington was not perfect either. I don't want perfect. Perfect would be scary as hell. But Obama is better than all the rest of 'em so far. Reagan and Clinton; Fillmore and Arthur, for sure.

The presidency is an exclusive, elite club and there are definite nuances that every new president brings to office. There are policies that are launched. Executive orders signed. Hot foots lit in congressional shoes. Favors to return. And dude is indeed acting like the president alright. Mack Daddy HNIC for reals. And he has effectively buried Biden and Hillary somewhere far out of sight. Good work and thumbs up, Barry!

By every stretch of the imagination the president's first 100-days have been wildly successful (especially for the pragmatic left leaning intelligentsia). Sure there's the whole secrecy and transparency thing but, you know what? We don't need to know every g-ddamn thing. That's the millennial mentality everybody needs to know everything all the time about everyone. Quit gossipin' and quit snitchin'. STFU and let the man we hired to work for us do his job for a few minutes without getting all up in his biz. It ain't Bush...we don't have Joseph Hazelwood at the wheel.

And, predictably, there are the haters. Of course there are haters! Ohhh boyyy are there haters. Is anybody surprised that Cheney is all blah-blah-blahing about everything? I'm not. Limbaugh? Please. If Rush wasn't spewing his hot green smelly alien venom about something I'd know there were real problems.

Check out the New York Post's "100 Days, 100 Mistakes" piece. What?! No, not "what" to the 'hundred mistakes' bit, but "what" to the fact that I even cited the New York Post because the New York Post is just horrible and sucks; vapid, histrionic, and just...the New York Post "is just like the Special Olympics or something." Hey, NY Post?! Your retarded! [get it?]

Seriously. Economic disaster or what-evs, are we not in a much better place in the world than we were 101 days ago? USA means something again. Black people are actually relevant again and not for playing basketball. And smart is the new black or whatever that silly NY phrase is.

Anyway, here's a list of the good the good man's done in 100 days from the top of my head and in no particular order:

- Basically killed GM because they make shitty cars.
- Basically killed Chrysler because they make shittier cars.
- Returned US to a foundation of science with federal support of stem cell research.
- Pregnant? Worried? No problem! Uncle Barry has you covered.
- Goodbye Iraq, we're Audi 5k.
- Hello Afghanistan, let's kick some ass!
- Hello torture prosecutions (please-please-please).
- Tea with Iran because we have to lead not cower.
- Hello Cuba - We were scared of Cuba?
- Hello Hugo - so what? He didn't kiss the guy's shoes he shook his hand.
- Picked Carolina to win NCAA. You didn't.
- Reversed policies on paranoid secrecy in government.
- Suspend enforcement of "midnight executive orders" pending review.
- Asked to close Guantanamo and restored rights to those imprisoned there.
- Ended illegal torture practices.
- Froze salaries for most of his staff.
- Signed mercury reduction pact.
- Eliminated medical marijuana prosecutions.
- He got a PUPPY!
- Spread swine flu all over the place.

Oh, snap (by golly). He is a negro Muslim socialist president. Rush is right! So what does the Mighty Conservative Movement come up with as intelligent counter? TEA parties. What? Uh, and Texas secession. Tea and secession. Great. No wonder Arlen Specter bailed...didn't want any part of teabagging.

Weigh in, people!


I Saw it Coming - Should Have Prepared Better

You may never see the peeks but you can always see the valleys. You can choose to ignore the signs of a coming drought because it's way too easy and comfortable to just believe that it will either rain or that your trusty spigot will be reliable because you're connected to city infrastructure.

But then the day comes when your flowers wilt and there is not a drop of metaphor to be found anywhere. There's a river running through the valley: denial. But seriously....

I have run into a problem. "The" problem, if you may. I might have just reached what may be the end of a very long creative stretch. A marathon of effortless productivity filled with unicorns and rainbows of conceptual continuity, in-jokes, and self-referential/self-mythologizing amazement.

I have exhausted my backlog. I have backed up the files to remote storage. I have no projects of note or interest in progress. Well, I have no projects or project partners that are ready to produce right now. It's probably an intermission rather than the curtain.

I am at the bottom of a well right now. I'm trying to write out of it and listen to music to rejuvenate but the panic always begins to wax. These ruts are killer and they usually happen in the summer. While it's not summer, it's hot as fuck so my lizard brain is ready to ease back while my willful mind is balking.

I get frightened that my last creative idea has past. I know, crazy. But that's me...long history of void panic. Been here a million times ("...used to call me antsy/now she calls me crazy..."). But you never can be a little dip or it can be a motherfuckin' black hole. I don't know yet.

It's not time to panic though. I have to work the go-tos first. I have several last ditch go-tos.

I. Mine the Emailings

I keep very few emailings as you know. The OCD doesn't let it accumulate. I do have the opportunity to look through the recents for nuggets that may spark a riot. Here are a handful of phrases that may push start the Corolla with the bad starter. These are from smart, funny, irreverent people who know the buttons to push:
"Why I LOVE the Infantry!"

"...not guilty by reason of plumbing fueled temporary insanity."

" would've blown away like the tumbleweeds."

"Don't tell the swine, they'll be so disappointed!"

"High functioning stoners ad-libbing."

"…also the workshop of the mind where a lot of the good shit goes down."

"What's wrong? Swine flu?"

"I dig those LA Lakers tube socks not mention the crafty cross-up."
Anything? Something? No.

II. Haiku

Forcing oneself into a haiku, the rigidity of it helps to focus the mind; to get one's self into a place. Here goes:

No nudges today
Sahara feast or famine
Humbling on empty
Anything? Something? No. Yawn.

III. Photography

Nothing clears the RAM like new, fresh photos. Just go out and take some pics without overthinking the exercise. Just go out and let the situations and contexts guide...

Anything? Something? Sure I did the post-prod today but the image was the last of the backlog. I now have nothing shoot or work with.

IV. Consuming

I sometimes forget that reading, listening to music, or just enjoying other people's work is the best salve. But I'm a producer, a creator....

The My Problem Thread: [clicky]

Keep Produuucing, Man®


Coming Out Of The Closet


The pants that is!
Keep Produuucing, Man®

Ask Ty...April 27 [The Iceberg Question]

It must be Tuesday Monday, Middlespace Cadets, because I'm answering your questions

Q: Dear Ty,
So who comes closest to knowing the whole of you?


Famous actress in NYC

Ty: Good question and an even better observation, FANYC. This simple 10-word question, while directed toward me, becomes the question of a lifetime. Who knows what about whom? Nobody, that's who.

The question "who comes closest to knowing the whole of you" is deeply profound because no one can truly know the whole of anyone else. NO ONE! And you're a delusional liar if in your belief structure you are somehow naive enough to believe you know the whole of anyone. Because everyone has roles, acts, and characters. Some more than others. Everyone has a selective history. Some more than others. But no one is "one" person. No one knows no "one" person. As with the truth, there is no absolute. It's just something--difficult as it is--we're better off just accepting. And I'm just happy to take the little I'm able to eek out of some people. It's a zen thing.

What we know of each person is the iceberg tip we observe or interact with to varying degrees at any given time. For example, I only know Brad Pitt from what I've seen in the movies. But I feel I know him. His wife knows him much better than I do. She makes him take out the smelly garbage. I only look on from the kitchen window. But my child? I've seen her nearly every day of her life. I know her quite well. But you know what? She's in first grade and has a robust social scene all to her own that I am not welcome in. Fact is MFin' fact.
See: Unrepentant from January, 2006 [clicky]
You see, we don't swear in front of our children (generally) and we aren't skirt hounds with our mothers (generally). We have specific behaviors for specific occasions and needs; situations are powerful determinants of behaviors. Even I don't smart off (much) around the police or old ladies, for instance. Do not underestimate the power of the situation.

We have work lives, hobbies, kinks, nutty desires, and everything else.

And now that we're all into the Web logging, Twittering, Facebooking, Flickring, and other fake ass online lives, compartmentalization is an extraordinarily big business. Who are we, anyway? Who are we, anymore? We are what we want/need to be for whom we need/want to be. Huh?!

"Facebook used to be kids trying to bang each other. Now it's young mothers pretending they're not miserable. Metaphor for internet?"

- Otterfarm on Twitter <-- Otterfarm is a registered trademark character of Rickey Powell

Metaphor for Internet? Sure. Metaphor for modern life? Absolutely. See? Psych 101.

It's not just the 55 year-old creep posing as 15 year-old girl for other Internet pervs. Artists and poets have now developed online characters for Web logs and a variety of social networks. There are even specific, well-developed characters exclusively for the comment sections of specific web logs.

Shit, everybody has a handle, screen name, and avatar (avatars are so retarded though) since the CB radio days.

But to your question,
FANYC, who knows the whole of me? Me. That's who. And just barely. Everyone else gets their piece. But nobody gets the whole. And this goes for everyone else in the whole world.

Just a guess,


Ask Ty... Archive: [clicky]
Keep Produuucing, Man®

I'm Serious

Seriously good chutney: [clicky]

Especially for improv picnics. Get a baguette, a half-pound of turkey, and some Stonewall Kitchen apple cranberry chutney. Done. I'm serious.

Keep Produuucing, Man®

That Last Poem

The Way That You Hate Me
So tired head killin'
with season change love with nose
Can barely lift ink to paper
to document must sleep

Everything mixing together
Just prior to unconscious-ness
from the Fear and the Loathe
and Donner party jokes

Puppy face woman
in LL Bean smock
Childbearing hips
Friendly yet distant
Like the goddess of rain
Brewing with disdain
From seething sorry pain
Pouncing like a hurricane

Keep Produuucing, Man®


Dudezone (beginning of a series) - Saturday Workshop

Jim/Berkeley [clicky]
Chief/Detroit [clicky]
Marcus/Katbocks 1 [clicky]
Marcus/Katbocks 2 [clicky]
Jeff/Virginia [clicky]
Rickey/Berkeley [clicky]
Tommy/NY [clicky]
Ty/Claremont [clicky]
Mark/DC [clicky]
These are samples of special places men call zones; dudezones. Rickey thinks I should make this happen as a series. I think I will shoot a new series of dudezones moving forward.

Nominate your favorite dudezone for me to shoot. Send an emailing to me.

Keep Produuucing, Man®

"Climb On" (as they say) - Saturday Workshop

Keep Produuucing, Man®


S-s-s-something From the Comments

"Open the comments!"

Not yet.

Shades of Sistine

Keep Produuucing, Man®

A Puppy Faced Woman

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Guest Post: Suburbanland House of Mercy

Suburbanland House of Mercy
by s@y
image by Ty

A few weekends ago, I was pushing my daughter's stroller—with her in it, of course—around the newest addition to downtown Bethesda, which was cleverly named by some developers and PR gurus as Bethesda Lane. Seriously, you may have heard of Bethesda as the place where the National Institute of Health or the Naval Hospital is. But if you have never heard of Bethesda, here is the lowdown. It is part of the Washington DC metropolitan area on the Maryland side. In addition to serious medical research, Bethesda is also famous for food consumption. It reportedly has the highest number of restaurants per square mile in the entire country. (Or this could be just one of those myths that gets passed from a barely-new resident to a brand new resident every year.)

I just digressed. Let me get back to the story. As I crossed one of the main streets around Bethesda Lane, I overheard a man telling his walking companion—presumably a weekend visitor: "My prediction is that this place will become a destination." What? Seriously? Maldives Islands is a destination. Versailles is a destination. Angkor Wat is a destination. Machu Picchu is a destination. Bethesda Lane—a destination? Oh please! I almost stopped crossing the street to hit that man on his head with whatever I was holding in my hand at that time (which happened to be a bag full of marmalade jars I had just bought) and say: "What did you just say?" Instead, being a model parent, who is very hard at work to set a good example for the malleable mind of my young child, I pretended not to hear this outrageously outlandish hyperbole and kept on walking.

But I kept thinking: welcome to suburbanland! So much for the House of Mercy (meaning of Bethesda in Aramaic). This definitely was payback for living in the nation's most educated small town, which also happens to be the 11th richest location in the country.

- I am Fat and I Increase Global Warming

Keep Produuucing, Man®

Described as Such

Guess who this describes:
"He's an interesting guy. It's hard to know if he's with you or somewhere else in his head and then he brings the conversation right back around to where you are."

Union Pool


Ghosts of Two Burroughs

Ghosts of the New America archive [clicky]

Don't You Cry Tonight I Still Love You Baby


Guest Post: Truggat Serendipity at Coffee Break

Truggat Serendipity at Coffee Break
by TL Bridges
image by Ty

That’s enough, Portland!

New Yorkers, it is time we face the facts on this quaint town we’re so enamored with. I am reacting to a story in this week’s New York magazine about a fat asscock who has set up tent in Brooklyn to hawk his bullshit Portland lifestyle. Why is this so atrocious, you ask? Well, it begins with the title ‘The Messiah Hails From Portland’.

Let’s get some things straight.

New Yorkers never admit anything is better, EVER! This reporter is straight up clowning New York City for fuckssakes! I will admit that I know of this coffee well, it is good but definitely not my favorite. What is my favorite? Illy is my favorite, but you know what? It’s fucking COFFEE, so I buy Café Bustelo, bitches! Go on now, keep acting the faggoty truggat* and duping yourselves into a false identity based on your ‘sophisticated palette’.

This charlatan has the a great backstory explaining exactly how and why his is the crème de la crème, and that “this town (NYC) is ridiculous…Make a good cup of coffee for your neighbor, fuck!”

Take your weak-assed ‘good intention’ neighborly bullshit out of here. It’s a lie, and you fucking know it, Eli Sunday. Also, WE’RE ridiculous? Ever been to Portland’s acclaimed Saturday Market? Didja enjoy the Elephant Ears, fatty? So as it stands, you come to our house, talk shit about us, and we’re supposed to embrace you as a messiah? Even Timothy Dolan knew better, doucheturd! Also, let it be known that Portland has a seething hatred of Starbucks, the likes of which you’ve never dreamed. They blame Starbucks for most of their lives’ problems. This patchouli-felcher created his business as the anti-Starbucks, and the truggats* came like it was a Bush protest.

Where are you now, beliefs? Still think he’s different than Howard Shultz?

Reporter, this means you too. God knows you’ll flee Brooklyn soon; for the darkies and foreigners are all set to reclaim the streets in this economy. They’re going to looove you as they grow poorer and watch you at your outdoor café drinking faggoty $12/lb coffee while rubbing your own clit, droning on your own self-importance to your friend, who’s so busy thinking of something clever to say in return that they’re not listening. You call yourself a New Yorker…GEDDOUDDAHEEAH, sellout!

Here are some interesting facts you should know about Portland before shelling out that $12:
1: Almost every business there has the exact same truggatty* bullshit mantra (organic, free-trade, eco-friendly, random hippie bullshit) yet they are all frauds to a large degree; they are the exact polar opposite of the right wing businesses. They talk a good game, but it’s just as maniacal as Enron, just different.
2: They are the most faux-liberal, hypocritical city in America. They pride themselves on diversity and open-mindedness, so long as you don’t act differently than they. (see: TRUGGATS!!*) When we lived there, all the ‘scary people’ lived in the North part of town; boy was I shocked to see that they’ve now been pushed out of there as well! It is the whitest ‘large city’ in America, and that is fact. They would love for you to be their minority friend, just so long as you share their truggardly* views and become their Sammy Davis, Jr. (no offense, dear Candyman).
What else would you expect, in hindsight, from a city founded on slave trade and Shanghaiing?
3: They openly hate and discriminate against New Yorkers.
Don’t get me wrong, they also equally hate Californians, mostly because there was at one time a huge drive north, which ultimately drove up real estate. But the truth is they hate pretty much everyone that isn’t an Oregonian or Washingtonian(?), as well as just about everything else, which is why it was named ‘Unhappiest City’ as well as ‘Unhappiest State’ by several publications recently. They’re straight up haterz, yo!
They talk shit on New Yorkers like a woman scorned; we truly are their small-dicked bastards that never knew how to fuck properly.
They also discriminate to the point that it should be illegal. I’m not making this up. We were there, highly qualified to work (come on, a New Yorker not able to do a Portland job? Ha!), and only ever able to procure jobs in places that had New York sympathizers at the hiring helm. I’m not kidding; I went for almost a year without a job because of this. People at interviews would shit-talk New York to my face, saying things such as, “Well, ya know, WE don’t do things like they do in New York, do you think you can handle that?”
“You mean, like you don’t work hard, fast, accurately or stressfully? Sure!”
Truth is, fellow New Yorkers, you can’t. And in time, you’ll find yourself wanting to eat the Cobain sandwich out of pure, empty boredom in moving so excruciatingly slow.
Here is my recent case in point:
My friend Tom Z. is about to embark on a 2-3 month stay in Portland.
He wanted to have his own place while staying there, rather than put friends out for such a long period. An ad was placed in craigslist, in detail, of his going out there from Brooklyn and staying awhile.

What happened?

A week later, he copied the ad, word for word, but left out the BKLYN…
40 responses in 2 days.
Fuck you, Portland.
Keep wishing you could be Seattle, and stay Truggat*.
All thanks goes to Ty for the honor of inviting me, and for branding a much needed, long-overdue epithet.


*Truggat - \trəg-gət\ noun: One who brandishes trivial, immaterial eccentricities flamboyantly in an egregious attempt to define who they are while simultaneously attempting to slight you as ignorant.

Hipster Grifter Prison

from PReck_

Place for Rats I

Place for Rats II

Doomed is the New Bleck

S-s-s-something From the Comments

"Open the comments!"


S-s-s-something From the Comments

To: "Ask Ty..."
Fr: rhymes with Picky Towel
Re: Ask Ty...April 21
To the Conservatives:

To paraphrase a wise man whose name rhymes with Knob Bigger: It’s called science and it fucking works, people.

To the Liberals (Full disclosure, I am one. Worse yet, I am a professional environmentalist):

Here’s what is wrong with Liberals. A recent exchange on a website that rhymes with Race Hook went like so.

Status: Why is it so HOT?
Reply: It’s called global warming. Start driving your hybrid more!

Dear Reply, I hope to God you’re not a medical doctor. Not only did you botch the diagnosis (its called weather, and it varies), you completely fucked the prescription. Unless I missed the headline that the 2009 Prius REVERSES global warming, I don’t think driving your hybrid MORE is going to help the situation.

This characterizes the problem with the liberal American approach to environmental problems. It assumes that if you use a different laundry detergent you will solve the world’s problems.

For this I blame Al Gore, who nailed the problem description section of his movie, but phoned in the solution. Buy new appliances and we’ll roll back greenhouse gasses to 1992 levels! Like we weren’t fucked then!

Don’t worry folks! We can consume our way out of this problem! It’s the American solution to everything! Terrorists got you down! Go to the mall! Economy sucks? Buy a new American car! Global warming a drag? Replace all your appliances, cleaning supplies, and underwear!

You want to really contribute to solving global warming? Start your own hippie Jonestown.

Here’s my take on global warming backed up by exactly ZERO research and informed only by an intuitive sense of how the world works and the conviction that I’m always right.

We’re doomed. Ask the dinosaurs. Ask any pine tree that grows in open sunlight and then destroys the very condition that created it by shading the ground below it.


All we can do is moderate the speed at which we descend into hell.

We bought the ticket thousands of years ago. Enjoy the ride.

"Well, the truth is, Brian, we can't solve global warming because I fucking changed light bulbs in my house."

- rhymes with I Sock Yo Mama

Slope Stoop Monster ate My Camera

What Happens In Brooklyn...

...gets posted on the innerweb.

Ask Ty...April 21 [The Earth Day Question]

It must be Tuesday, Middlespace Cadets, because I'm answering your questions

Q: Dear Ty,
You know how every time it snows conservative fucknuts start claiming there's no such thing as global warming and you want to punch them in the face like the jagoffs they are?

Is it equally as appropriate to punch people in the face who bring up global warming every time the temperature exceeds 85 degrees?


It's Not the Global Heat, It's the Global Humidity
Ty: Good question and an even better observation, GH/GH. Oh, I absolutely do know that drill and it kills me with a thousand cuts. We get a 40º Atlanta day in June and all science is suddenly and automatically null and void. It snows in Denver in late August and Matt Drudge has that stupid spinning red light thing going with some dumb ass "BREAKING" headline.

Albert Gore, Jr. weeps upon Tipper's bosom.

And I mention Matt Drudge because he's the very worst at the anti-global warming science overhype thing...and everything else. Everything. Matt Drudge is indeed the very worst at everything. The end.


But GH/GH, it's 2009 and we already know that the conservative movement, at least for now, is completely (and comically) dead. Worse, it's just uncool to be conservative right now. Just as people were considered insane for identifying themselves as liberal in 2002 (I did), you're pretty much a homeless AIDS leper with B.O. who still uses Vista if anyone finds out you're conservative. Conservatives believe that Matt Drudge is intelligent. Conservatives are still buying Hummers. The science backs all of that up. Have faith, believers.

So, yah, you really do want to punch the global warming nay-sayers in their pasty, pudgy faces "like the jagoffs they are" when they misinterpret the absolute BASICS of weather patterns and seasonal transition and actually think/say things like global warming is a myth because there is frost on a pumpkin. But conservatives do shiver with fright because the End Times are-a-comin' with locusts, plagues, and Jews everywhere. STFU!

But, and to the topic, likewise it is annoying as fuck that there are people who think/say that WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE when the obvious solution to their immediate woes is that they put on a pair of shorts and drink a Coke. It's 2009, we already invented science. Just because you sweat through a T-shirt does not mean that the polar bears are dying and you need to start using Seventh Generation products even though they do not work. Grow up and STFU, hippies!

Hence it is equally as appropriate (and very important) to punch people in the face who bring up global warming every time the temperature exceeds 85 degrees. Fair is fair.

But it is the eve of Earth Day and I have some concerns to air [tldr warning here]. I think we need to look carefully at what we're doing anymore, as a planet working together for common goals.

I have some problems with the whole green/Earth movement.
It's exclusionary: Martians and Venusians should immediately protest their exclusion form Earth Day. I mean Rodney King was like so '92. Can't we just get along, carbon-based life forms! Earth Day? Really? Why not Universe Day, huh? Milky Way Day? OK? Racist, homophobic, sexist, xenophobic, Earth-only NIMBY assholes need a punch in the face too.

Science is pending: What if researchers discover that all the green ink used for all the "green" marketing is the most environmentally toxic substance since agent orange? You saw Sleeper, right? "Yeah but bacon tastes good. Pork chops taste good." In 2030 you can tell you drooling adult day care zombie children that at least you recycled every Tuesday.

People just don't get it: Californians tweeting "it's hot" over and fucking over increases greenhouse gasses by 60% because electricity ain't without a carbon footprint. Printing the Freecycle flyers left on my stoop kills the indigenous tribes of Brazil.

Misleading our children: I nearly broke the copy machine (electricity) at my kid's school making Earth Day flyers (paper) and lesson plans. The rain forest weeps. I have a tumor from copy toner because we need to teach our children the VALUE of the bald eagle or some nonsense. You know how much time it takes to cut up those plastic six-pack rings? Paper bags totally suck now and I always forget my stinky hemp reusable bags. Oy! Paper or plastic? Urine or beer, OK?

What do we really know? There is never a right and there's no absolute wrong.* Maybe the global warming doomsayers are wrong. Maybe if I have to wear a jacket in May global warming is a hoax like the space landing and the election of a black president. Maybe I'm actually a conservative after all? That's so American!

Ha-ha! It's so funny thinking about driving a Chevy or drinking Budweiser I just can't continue.

Just a guess,


* Hitler is the exclusion.
Ask Ty... Archive: [clicky]

That's So American thread [clicky]
WTF? Contact: ty[at]middlespace[dot]net
That's So American photography by ty


Reflection Makes Four

One and three candles
"Photograph anything here"
Exit interview

TXTing in Bodega Light at Midnight

It's like nobody is paying any attention here; after but not before.

You Are Not An Artist - 12

I have some good news and I have some bad news. What do you want first? Bad? Everybody picks the bad news first. Why are people so weak?

The bad news is that you are not an artist. I know, the truth fucking hertz.

The good news ("& thank god too" - RPW) is that Tommy Hoppe is an artist: [clicky]

Download Tommy Hoppe Theory as a .pdf here ----> <---- dessim="" div="" er="" ereh="" fi="" ti="" uoy="">

YANAA archive: [clicky]

After But Not Before

TXTing in Bodega Light at Midnight
Racketeering ATM under the Williamsburg bridge
Sending PINs directly to spreadsheets upstairs
Plus service charges that apply
"We got overhead; Excel ain't free, mon."

As I say nary a word
Street cred in reverse
From Los Angeles of all places
Analyzing the analysts analyzing them


No neighbors complaining this time
Susan yawning
The Man whom G-d loves unpacks
an onion with a million skins

For Chyllo

Ninth Street Dave - Park Slope, BKLN

Stop #1: Pick up key to the kingdom (music and drinks are free); proceed.

Monday Morning Prayer in Two Overly Long Sentences and One Summary Image (not in that order)

The Bleck Line: A story set in Brooklyn featuring Evil Betty, Earl, a dog named Wilbur (not shown in the Summary Image), and a first generation Polish immigrant with a 9mm behind his back (in text only).

Oh and here are those "two overly long sentences":
So at the point when I realized that it was my camera that was tumbling down the concrete stoop steps having been accidentally kicked, I was both grateful that I didn't bring any pro equipment and also concerned that I had once again murdered a perfectly good Canon camera.

But not only did I roll with that punch I also chalked it up to being in the context and those sorts of accidents happen in such contexts.

From PReck_

Project Twenty-One


What's On the Internets Today #10/10

Friends don't let friends plant annuals

Free Milk Seminar

I noticed it, unofficially, a couple weeks ago. It was just a moment in an otherwise miserable day. But with this weekend behind, we are now in what I’m calling the nostalgic days. The air is light and the light is airy. The sky has returned to a deep unnatural blue from its vacation of milky, humid opaque. Autumn is being phased in again.

During nostalgic days the brain remembers that autumn is a time of invigorating bliss; when the cool air returns and the mosquitoes die. The shadows deepen, mornings are dark and everything becomes all contrast-y again. Breathing becomes easy and life’s woes subside. The leaves change from an overly officious uniformity of greens to a masquerade ball of individualism and whimsy that culminates in Halloween and death. In autumn, we snuggle again. We mow the fields one last time and we ride out the slide into darkness and productivity.

The threat and misery of winter is well over the horizon. The beleaguered days of the mid-Atlantic summer fades like a bad memory. Fortunately for the humans, the memories of pain are never keen. In January, we’ll all pray for July again. The shoulders, autumn and spring, make living in the east worthwhile. The monotony of hundreds of perfect California days, while glorious, faints into the background of being.

Two consecutive pages of useful information
Confirming and disappointing consecutively

Of theories toward brain-machine interfaces
And smart relief from severe and chronic pains

Focus the minds on intelligent goals
With unimportant but highly imaginative colleagues

We can agree that the time has come
For cognitive coups and invisible acquisitions

A society parallel and unequal
Simple and vigorous can indeed exist

Without feature-creep or worrisome expenses
Of spirit, integrity, creativity or hair loss

Queen for a day or pawn for a lifetime
White full-length faux fur or rumpled worn oxford

Human reliability analyses with weak probabilities
Only conceptualize the obvious

Long and technical papers to recapitulate
Our instinctual demise as a species

What's On The Internets Today [archive]