potkettleblog: Year 1




December 23, 2001; Sunday

Everyday Card

As we go about the general excess of not only the holiday season, but our entire lives, let's try to do so graciously and thankfully - mindful and caring of others in our neighborhoods and in our world who may be less (or even more) fortunate... who may have different values systems, different beliefs... who may not be at all like you, and who may not like you at all.

Marcus Aurelius said, "Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be. Be one."



With Solstice passed and Christmas still to come, we fly tomorrow - Christmas Eve - to Minnesota. We return on New Year's Eve. Until then, this site may take the opportunity to engage in some quiet reflection. Feel free to do likewise.

:a: 


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I seen you at a Christmas party.

kurt
Dec 27, '01 - 5:20 PM

An' I's still there. But tomorry, off ter grammaw's.

Your absent host
Dec 27, '01 - 8:49 PM



No, not YOU. That feller there!
kurt
Dec 28, '01 - 8:23 AM



December 22, 2001; Saturday

Prancer? - Blitzen? - Rudolf?



Image received about five minutes ago in a spam selling holiday meat. (Hurry, offer expires 12/31/01!)

:a: 


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Variations on Tim and Lucky


:a: 


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Hey, you got the card! Great!

timo
Dec 31, '01 - 12:40 PM



December 21, 2001; Friday

Tomorrow's entry ten years ago tomorrow

"Up and down. It started with trauma - to go or not to go, in terms of the use of military force in Kuwait, the Persian Gulf area, in order to kick Saddam Husseim out. And so that started with tension. And shortly thereafter, fantastic conclusion to that war. And then a long, kind of slow, sluggish economy that hurt a lot of people and ended - oh, and of course, inside of that, the change, the coup in the Soviet Union this summer... So it was a year of mixed emotions, and ending with good news today on the economic front, but still, with a very sluggish economy, good news in the sense that the Fed has lowered the rates to almost historic lows, which should have a stimulative effect on the economy. So it's been a year of up and down. On a personal side, of course, great happiness for me and Barbara, sadness in that our house got clobbered, but when I look at that and think of some of the hardship of the American people and I can say we've been very lucky."

- George Herbert Walker Bush, exactly ten years ago tomorrow, summing up (after a fashion) the previous year during a C-SPAN interview.
Quote taken from the book "Bushisms - President George Herbert Walker Bush, in his own words; compiled by the editors of The New Republic." Workman Publishing, 1992.

:a: 


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December 20, 2001; Thursday

Country, Bluegrass, Blues




CBGB: Christmas Bells Go Boing

:a: 


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In accord with the sentimentality of the season


:a: 


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December 19, 2001; Wednesday

Turnabout sucks - unless I'm either doing the exacting or am not involved at all; then it's OK

I should've expected that Jeremy had a picture of me hoarded somewhere, despite my lifelong dislike of having cameras pointed in my direction. Cameras are like mirrors, but backwards and permanent. And they steal souls, did you know that?

I popped over to strenturgent.com... and there I was in the upper left corner's random display looking utterly wasted; dimpled and puckered like a baby's butt and just as chubby, eyes closed like a newborn pup.


I should be flattered, and I'm pretty sure that underneath the mock horror I am. After all, I put my own picture in my header stock four times. Bet you can't guess 'em, though.

:a: 


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Ah. It's been there for a while, I've been waiting. Yep, turnabout - after stumbling across myself looking out from your website for the bejillionth time, I struck back. Do you remember when it was taken?

I've seen a few pictures of you in your header - I don't know if I could get all four, though. Is there money involved?

J.

Jeremy
Dec 19, '01 - 2:58 PM

Is it from the last-night-of-Sked collection? I've been trying to ID it by the background, but the laptop's LCD display ain't great for detail. It's not from House On The Rock, is it? (Some of my best header shots were taken there; how could that one of me have been?)

''Is there money involved?'' you ask. What in this life doesn't have money involved? But that's rhetorical. What I will do is send you a cardboard Earthlink promo CD jacket with a Screamin' Jay Hawkins CD hidden in it if you can figure out which four header shots have me in them. (Valid for Jeremy only, since I actually already promised it to him and I don't have access to a CD burner to make more.)

Your camera-shy host
Dec 20, '01 - 9:41 AM

Yep, I believe it was taken in the band room at the Entry on the night those four (five) rock 'n' rolling boys rode off into the sunset.

Let me work on the header stock...

Jeremy
Dec 28, '01 - 9:11 AM



December 18, 2001; Tuesday

Rufus and me playing Windy

A few days ago, Rodney sent me an .mp3 snippet of jazz musician Rufus Harley doing the song "Windy" on the bagpipes.

I knew about this guy for some reason. I remember seeing him play on a talk show or something, and thinking at the time So what makes this jazz? The horns? It takes a keener ear and mind than those what I got to determine these sorts of things.

When I played what Rodney sent me, though, there was a more immediate response than how to categorize it: what I was listening to sounded an awful lot like a version of that same song that I muddled up in the '80s on a Fostex X-15 4-track cassette machine. (Or maybe it was after I got the Tascam 388, but I don't think so.)

I've looked a couple times now, but I haven't been able to find a copy of it downstairs; I might not even have one anymore. But that's OK - I can record it again for you from scratch, right here in my imagination. To the best of my recollection:

Take the noisy Oberheim OB-1 and run it through that old Gibson Spring Reverb and the Pearl Phaser stompbox set to the slowest medium sweep you can, in that order, then into one of the inputs on the Fostex. Now totally crank up all the volumes and gains on everything. Altogether, it makes a kind of a collapsed lackadaisical whooshing like the morose waves of a sulking electronic ocean, or heavy dismal winds - ailing winds with old wounds.

Record about five or six minutes of that. Rewind, change the sweep speed a bit on the Phaser, and do the same thing again on another track. Repeat. You now have three tracks of this noise rising and falling at slightly different rates. Good.

Now get out the already-long-obsolete silver Boss Dr Rhythm DR-1 (oldest I can find usably referenced on the web is the DR-5), and set up a steady kick drum pattern. Real slow, like 12bpm. Whump... (until you can't stand waiting anymore, then) whump... (until you can't stand waiting anymore, then) whump. Put it a mile down the road in a gigantic room, using that spring reverb again. It comes out sounding like a massive faraway detonation under a mountain of feathers.

Bounce the three noise tracks - one 3/4 left, one 3/4 right, one dead center - along with the "live" kick at dead center, to two tracks. Start with everything all the way down; bring up the three noise channels, then subsequently the kick, all of it gradually over the course of an agonizingly long time. Good. Rewind.

OK, set up something in a nice sawtooth on the Moog Opus 3, run it through that spring reverb (of course!), but dump the phase shifter now and replace it with that Pearl Distortion pedal. Be sure the reverb comes first, then the distortion. Set it up with a channel on the Fostex, and start with the fader down all the way.

Take a piece of duct tape, and tape down a key on the Moog. Try the G below C.

Listen to the playback in the headphones (Koss Pro 4-AA, natch, so good that they still make 'em)... white noise cresting and subsiding, swirling around you, swirling you around; an enormous drum - is it a drum? - throbbing painfully slow and almost subsonic in the great distance, ever slightly louder, slightly closer. After more of this unease than anyone can possibly tolerate, deftly - but with trepidation - start bringing up the fader on the Moog's one taped-down sustained note. Louder.

All at once, abruptly start to play the melody of the song "Windy" in 4/4, with the unmoving beat on the one, and the first note an octave up from the drone. The distorted-reverb makes the transition between notes an ill-defined roar; and when the notes themselves emerge, they're buzzing with a barely-contained energy. Play the verse melody through one time, then stop. Don't play the chorus. After three or four long beats, take off the tape that's holding down the key on the Moog: an unsuspected and jarring stop. The distorted-reverb roar immediately takes over, subsiding in a few seconds as the "winds" continue their howl. The funereal drum beats on in the distance.

Stop the tape, set up a mic (using a DI box to match the impedance for the spring reverb inline), and grab the toy piano. Start the tape and let it go for a minute, contemplating. Then on the toy piano, oddly and slowly syncopated in 3/4 against the missing pulses of the 4/4 beat, play the fifth and root notes D and G. Over and over, without thought.


If you're the type who generally likes horned-hatted-musicians (which precludes me, arguably on both counts), you'll want to get to know Moondog, too.

:a: 


Responses - 2
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Toy Piano?

http://minorkeys.com

(via boingboing.net)

Jeremy
Dec 18, '01 - 6:45 PM

I think you saw him on 'To Tell the Truth.' He loaned the hat with the horns to one of the impostors, which backfired. All the judges thought it was too far out there to belong the real guy.

esposa
Dec 20, '01 - 7:39 PM



December 15, 2001; Saturday

Santa Claus on a fire truck on the street in front of the in-law's house about five minutes ago


:a: 


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Brak brak brak

Inspired by Jeremy's inspiration by King Velour, and coupled with my being so self-possessed, I decided to troll my own website and quote myself extensively. I will use these results in a randomly-generated email sigfile.
"Despite my atrocious conceit, I'm still not self-absorbed enough. True, there are those who know that their existence depends on my appearance - and that helps. But it's just not enough."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"I eat organic gravel, drink magnetically-purified juices of fallen leaves. My TV is filled with faeries and gnomes fighting and fornicating."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"No matter that I was already over a decade late and didn't understand the context of the book outside of my limited juvenile Minnesotan experience: It moved me in my world."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"My grandmother's brother, my great-uncle, who could strike a pose like Richard Brautigan before Richard Brautigan was even born."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"With technology, sometimes ya just gotta find ways to be right, y'know?"
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"Jets are flying over once a minute or so - one, two, three, four; we jump up to look every time, but see nothing. Probably fighters, gone before they're heard."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"Obviously, the attack on Pearl Harbor was a personal attack on me, since it brought the U.S. into a war that might have resulted in my never having been born. And, logically, the unleashing of nuclear power is the result of cosmic forces ensuring my personal existence at any cost."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"I guess he figured I was on my way to a mission soup line or something for breakfast, which I didn't find insulting: he was accepting me with his best understanding, and being accepted is in every case a compliment."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"I thought that if a million bucks fell from the sky at that moment, I'd use some of it to buy that building just so I could rearrange the letters to read 'San Feta.' What a friend we have in cheeses."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"Somebody said it was a mattress factory, and somebody else said it was an old ice-house. It burned real good, whatever it was."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"There's an awful lot of food for sale in Chicago. I hear a lot of it's good."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"I want to walk down to the river and throw stones in. I want to walk through the gardens picking strawberries, corn, peas."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"If Manny was a groundhog, he'd probably look something like this."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"I heard a man's articulate voice say, 'There was such an intoxicating fragrance back there that I nearly passed out.' Then I heard his companions backtrack hurriedly, apparently to investigate the scent which held the promise of rendering their friend unconscious."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"Solipsistic. A word that I have my doubts about, and one that turns really creepy really fast if taken too far, which is easy to do. Just like Pyrrhonism. Just like anything."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"While thinking about being creative is itself a twisted sort of creativity, it can be quite something in which to get mired. (How's that for a joyless sentence?! 'Whoo-hoo,' one deadpans.)"
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"It not only starts close to the end, but right at the end. And then it stops there. I guess it's starting to seem like it's really not much of a story after all."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"Eating Pocky is way better than eating death, I bet. I've never had Veggie Booty, but maybe it's even better than that too."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"Last night I rode the metro to the George Washington Masonic National Memorial in Alexandria, Virginia, to hear 'An Evening Of Music For Saxophone' presented by the United States Air Force Band Chamber Players on the occasion of the anniversary of the birthday of Adolphe Sax. I'll tell youse mugs what: it was good."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"Phrenology... another inexact science. As are they all. Admit it."
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"I owe emails to almost everybody I know, and also to a good percentage of the people I don't."
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"Everyone glistens miserably, slippery in the oozing heat as we suffer the unrelenting road like ten thousand miniature Tohokus."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"A gentleman asks to him its wife: - My love, if I lost all my money, your you would want to me equal? To which it responds: - Of course that if, my love... but I am going to you to be strange very many..."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"This is it! At last! (dah, d'-daht-daht-daht)... Your mind's gone!"
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"He pranced and danced, and giggled and whuffled, and as nearly as a goat can chirp, he chirped."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"Most likely, he simply sees fit to call a thing whatever best suits what he wants from it - whether or not the thing's actually what he's chosen to call it."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"He appears to believe fully and completely in the rightness and righteousness of his abject decisions, despite all evidence to the contrary."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

"In fact, so utterly and interminably vapid are the lengths and breadths of their stories that they, too, are frequently compelled to make things up simply to maintain consciousness - although they aren't ashamed to doze frequently and publicly."
     - potkettleblack::potkettleblog

I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge that the seed of my doing this actually was planted three or four years ago by Bill Steen. I was using a random-signature generator that I had loaded up full of quotes by the famous and not-so-famous... and one day good-natured smartass Bill asked me why I didn't speak for myself. Or words to that effect. And that's been stuck in my craw ever since. Now seemed apropos to act.

:a: 


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December 14, 2001; Friday

Barely three months now, and that's not very long

Today, in response to an entry I made here just over three months ago, somebody posted an anguished and powerful remembrance of her experiences at ground zero in New York City on September 11. I'm appending what she wrote at the bottom of this entry.

In the days following the attack I read dozens and dozens of eyewitness accounts, and saw again and again and again all the horrible images. I didn't have any denial about what had happened - what was happening. I didn't fail to comprehend the reality of it. I didn't feel like I was watching a movie: I could look out the window and see the smoke rising from the Pentagon with my own eyes.

It didn't really touch me, though. Yes, my life changed - whose didn't? - but mostly, my life changed from the inside. I didn't lose any friends. Nobody I know was involved at all. I was the closest person I know to anything that went on - and I was nearly a full 20 miles from the Pentagon.

What this stranger wrote and posted here moved me more deeply than any other account has. Why? I've been thinking about it for hours as I've gone about the normal movements of my life. And that's the best I've come up with: in the wake of the terror attacks, my life is normal. Not everybody's is. Not yet anyway.

I'm not sure I can explain it any better.

Someone whose life recently hasn't been normal wrote:
I worked across the street from WTC and was on Broadway and Wall Street when the second plane hit. I usually get off on Fulton, but the train bypassed that stop without any explanation. We all walked off the train, out of the station and into terror attacks. No one told us not to exit or where to go or what had just happened with the first plane. I just walked into it all.

There was dust, debris, shoes, paper, hats, purses, all kinds of stuff on the ground. Very few people were on the streets, but whoever was there was either crying or just out of it. Lost.

Then there was a loud noise like a plane flying really low. It's weird I thought of a plane because I had no idea it was a plane that caused the flames I could see coming from the first tower. From Broadway you can't see the hole in the building clearly, you can only see the flames and smoke. Once the plane was in sight, I said to myself "there is no way that plane is going to hit that building."

Just as I finished that sentence, people began screaming and pointing, and it did just that.

Everyone took cover anywhere they could. People ran into vestibules, stores, and like I did, under cars. A Chinese woman and I were under a car, side by side. I could hear screams and things hitting the ground and the car I was under. There were cars crashing and glass breaking.

Then there was silence. I'm not sure if anyone else heard the silence, but I know I did.

Then someone close by says "Oh my god."

I'm not sure how long I was under the car, but a man came over to the Chinese woman and myself and pulled both of us out from under the car. My clothes were dirty, there was all kinds of stuff in my hair and I only had on one sandal.

When I looked up I was astonished. The streets were covered with more dirt and debris. It seemed like it had snowed. When I looked up at the tower... I don't know how to express it in words. I can describe the sight but I can never fully describe the feeling. There were people falling from the windows, there were bodies hanging out and parts on the floor. I couldn't breathe..... I couldn't think...

A cop began screaming for us to run. I started to run but I couldn't keep my eyes off the towers.

When I got to Fulton Street, I saw all the people standing around and pointing. When I turned around to see what they were pointing at, I finally saw all of the damage. The hole in the first tower. I still didn't know it was a plane in the first building, my brain couldn't comprehend all my eyes were seeing.

I'm only 21. I've never seen a dead body other than on TV. It looked like a movie. The cops were trying to clear the area. I just kept running but I felt like I wasn't getting any further from it. It felt like a bad dream when no matter how hard you scream no one can hear you.

I knew my mom would be hysterical but cells didn't work and there were lines for phones. People on one line let me skip ahead and I finally called her, I was on about Houston by now. She couldn't believe it was me. She said she was going to prepare herself for the worst. She calmed me a bit. She said to just get home any way possible. But I couldn't function. I didn't know which way I should be walking or how far my house actually was (I live in the Bronx).

A police officer came over to me and began hugging me and dusting me off. I had blood in my hair, but I wasn't injured. He hailed me a cab and I got in along with two other people. I was in shock and said nothing the entire way.

The driver had the radio on and I finally found out what happened. Traffic was crazy. The further we got the less people knew. They were looking at me like I was some type of freak. They would just stare.

At about 42nd Street, the radio person said the towers had collapsed. First one, then the second. I could still see the smoke.

I don't remember anything else from then until the driver was poking me. The man was gone and we were at the girl's house. I told him where I was going and he got me there. What seemed like my entire family was in my mother's house. Some were outside waiting for me. I collapsed into their arms.

I woke up in my mother's bed. My hair was clean and I had on new clothes. I was home. Thousands of people were still struggling to get to their loved ones. Thousands of others would never get home.

I have accepted what happened but I am nowhere near moving on. I just started sleeping at my own home, but not yet through the night. I have a little girl to take care of, so I need to get it together. I'm trying. I know people are hurt by this, but no one can truly understand how I feel unless they went through what I did.

We will move on.

- TIFFANY, 12.14.01_12:50pm.EST


I was happy and relieved to read that final, hopeful sentence: "We will move on."


Just a couple days beyond three months later, and they think they've got bin Laden trapped in a cave. Remember Bush saying - within hours of the attack - "we're gonna smoke 'em outta their holes?" Well, whattya know.

Am I alone in feeling like that news is probably doing a lot more to help George Bush than it is to help Tiffany?

:a: 


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December 13, 2001; Thursday

After all, catering for his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction

Lois sent me a scan of a creepy article called "The good wife's guide" which appears to be from a 1955 issue of a magazine called Housekeeping Monthly. I went looking for more information about it, and found that though I'd never seen it before, a couple versions have apparently been floating around the 'net for quite a while.

Websites plucked at random from the search results cited origins including "a 1950's American High School Home Economics textbook" ... "Helen B. Andelin's Fascinating Womanhood" ... "magazine article from 'Housekeeping Monthly' dated May, 1955" ... "possibly taken directly from a 1950s home economics textbook entitled The Good Wives' Guide written by an unknown woman" ...

I couldn't find any specific citations of the original author.

There are some sassy updated versions answering to the original - and to its supporters, such as these self-described 'Bible Believers' who seem to think it should be canonized: "The following is an excerpt from a home economics textbook used in Ontario during the 1950's. Each excerpt is followed by a [supporting] Bible quotation." Obviously, the belief system of the Taliban transcends mere religious labels.

As always, the Urban Legends Reference Pages are on the job:
[S]o far nobody has turned up the infamous textbook that supposedly included these ten steps. The list is often attributed to Helen B. Andelin's book Fascinating Womanhood, first published in 1963 to provide instruction in "The Art of Winning a Man's Complete Love," but no such list appears there...

Lately a graphic which is purportedly a digitized photocopy of the 13 May 1955 edition of a magazine called "Housekeeping Monthly" has been circulating, but the image is almost certainly a fake, created by simply adding text around a 1950s magazine graphic. (The image itself even bears the legend 'Advertising Archives' along its side.)
All things considered, I think that having this circulating is okay - and possibly good - whether or not it's authentic. Unlike the Sulfnbk.exe hoax, which I've received twice so far today. That just chafes.

:a: 


Responses - 11
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"Times, they are'a'changin'."

kurt
Dec 14, '01 - 11:10 AM

I guess they already have, several times since nineteen fifty-whatever. Of course, everyone's painted on smile (pa-rum pum pum pum) was reassuring, pleasant.

kurt
Dec 14, '01 - 11:14 AM

Yes this is a fake. What is amazing is the number of authors that have referenced this article (as if it were authentic). Although it is a fake it certainly does reflect the culture portrayed in the media at this time.

stevo
Mar 6, '02 - 12:31 PM

I could tell it was a fake when it got into that line of not complaining when your huband stays out all night.

john
Mar 12, '02 - 4:13 PM

It has to be a fake - but we all had quite some fun discussing it - how would men react if they were to meet a woman acting like suggested in that article!

Fuchur
Mar 15, '02 - 3:28 AM



Apparently, a section has been added to this since it first circulated. It reads like this:
"Once you have both retired to the bedroom, prepare yourself for bed as promptly as possible. Whilst feminine hygiene is of the utmost importance your tired husband does not want to queue for the bathroom, as he would have to do for his train. But remember to look your best when going to bed. Try to achieve a look that is welcoming without being obvious. If you need to apply face-cream or hair-rollers wait until he is asleep as this can be shocking to a man last thing at night. When it comes to the possibility of intimate relations with your husband it is important to remember your marriage vows and in particular your commitment to obey him. If he feels that he needs to sleep immediately, then so be it. In all things be lead by your husband's wishes; do not pressure him in any way to stimulate intimacy. Should your husband suggest congress then accede humbly all the while being mindful that a man's satisfaction is more important than a woman's. When he reaches his moment of fulfillment a small moan from yourself is encouraging to him and quite sufficient to indicate any enjoyment that you may have had. Should your husband suggest any of the more unusual practices be obedient and uncomplaining but register any reluctance by remaining silent. It is likely that your husband will then fall promptly asleep so adjust your clothing, freshen up and apply your night time face and hair care products. You may then set the alarm so that you can arise shortly before him in the morning. This will enable you to have his morning cup of tea ready when he awakes."
Intriguing this does not appear in the JPEG, huh?

Wolfgang
May 23, '02 - 5:20 AM

Who cares if this is a fake? If more women respected and made an effort for their husband, perhaps the divorce rate would not be so high. Why do we have to make such a joke out of making an effort for our marriage partner & paying attention to the little details in life which show we care?

Janet
Jun 16, '02 - 3:15 AM

Never read the book, but I have read the Scriptures. More than likely most of the book does not match the truth in the Scriptures. In that way the feminists and other assorted men haters can justifiably ridicule the ideal woman outline in the Scriptures.

'Charm is decietful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the lord shall be praised. Give her the product of her hands , and let her works be praised in the gates.' Prov 31:30-31

You mean silicon implants, collagen injections and desiner jeans aren't important? Sorry, they are only important if you don't follow the Scriptures. If you follow man's accumulated wisdom on how to please/keep a man then you had better keep your appointment for that plastic surgery, because younger and more beautiful women keep popping up every day and you just get one day older and droopier.

"For in this way in former times the holy women also, who hoped in God used to adorn themselves, being submissive to their own husbands. Thus Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord, and you have become her children if you do what is right without being frightened." 1 Pet 3:5-6

What would frighten modern women? Not having all these important women with careers look down on you because you want to be a submissive wife who raises her husband's children and provides a good home. How evil this thinking is in modern society.

"You've come a long ways, Baby!" They just forgot to tell you that you were going backwards instead of forwards.

I would expect that 99% of of the people will be offended by what I wrote. The truth is offensive to people who live lies.
So go back to your abuse, short-term, unfulfilling and meaningless relationships.
I'll keep looking for a Prov 31 wife.

An unworthy servant of the one true God,

Terry Dean, Nemmers

Terry Dean, Nemmers
Aug 3, '02 - 8:20 AM

Personally, I disagree with the last couple of comments. But I also respect the fact that they chose not to hide behind abject anonymity. They both signed their comments - probably with their real names - and, in Terry's case, included an email address as well. Good on ya both for having at least some measure of the courage of your convictions.

However, I think Janet may have missed some things completely in her reading of the original text. Does she really think that what her husband has to say is always just plain more important that anything she ever has on her mind? Is she really not going to complain if he starts staying out all night? Does she really think that she has no right to question his judgement under any circumstance? Poor Janet.

I absolutely agree with her statement, "If more women respected and made an effort for their husband, perhaps the divorce rate would not be so high." I don't understand, though, why she left out the other part: That if more men respected and made an effort for their wives, that would also lower the divorce rate.

As for Terry: I hardly know where to begin. What I do know is that anything I have to say is going to be a waste of time and breath on him. His mind is already made up; and he obviously doesn't have an understanding of how sinister things can be for women underneath his misspelled christian-fundamentalist platitudes.

I grew up through 12 years of private religious school; religion classes every day; chapel three times a week; church and Sunday school every Sunday; two years of confirmation classes on Saturdays. I've had a lot of exposure to the bible, and consequently it's very hard for me to take it literally.

There's some good stuff in there, sure! I've never found any religion that wasn't rooted in good stuff - initially, at least.

There's an illustrative collection of biblical inconsistencies, absurdities, obscenities and atrocities at the Closet Atheist site. (Don't get me wrong - there are atheists who are every bit as annoying as some religious fundamentalists.) All of the listings there are linked to the pertinent texts at biblegateway. Some of them are weak and smack of axe-grinding, but a lot of them are significant.

Thus ends my ad hominem attack.

One last parting shot (which I fully expect to be removed or edited). I thank the mysterious person who complimented me on my leaving my name, however, they forgot to leave theirs (Luke 6: 41-42) so I will just have to call her, "Missy" (for mysterious). Missy, I think you meant to say "His mind is already made up, and he obviously doesn't have an understanding of how sinister things can be for a woman underneath his ***misspelled**** (Don't you mean misplaced, Missy?) fundamentalist-christian platitudes."

Since you are the expert on the Scriptures after your 12 years please explain why you couldn't realize that what your teachers were teaching and what was written in the Scriptures were two different things (Acts 17:10-11)? I saw people who slept through 4 years of school and now those people are called doctors. Just because you put in your time doesn't mean you know anything about the Scriptures.

You had your opportunity to explain "the sinister" to me but instead you took us on a wild goose chase trying to sound profound. May have fooled the superficial people who would believe that "Fascinating Womanhood" (both for and against) was straight out of the Scriptures.

By the way these are not my doctrines but God's doctrines. The Scriptures talk about the proper hierachy for men and women. It goes as such: God ( the head), Christ, man and then woman ( 1 Corinthians 11:3). Now you understand why the feminists hate God and godly men because God has seen fit to place women under the charge of godly men, not the effeminate men or women haters that prey on the women of today.
I guess if you would rather have the ungodly men then don't complain how they treat/abuse you. You could seek a godly husband. God commands His godly men to honor their wives: You husbands likewise, live with your wives in an understanding way, as with a weaker vessel, since she is a woman; grant her honor as a fellow heir of the grace of life, so that your prayers may not be hindered. 1 Peter 3:7

If you would read the Scriptures you would see that 99% of the churches (including your PRIVATE school) don't match the definition of Christianity. Since you didn't understand the Scriptures, then you wouldn't be able to spot the fakes. That is why they have experts appraise diamonds because they know and understand diamonds and hence can determine which is valuble and which is fake. The imposters of Christianity are the ones who steal from their parish, are adulterers, child molesters or just the plain liars about the Scriptures (1 Cor 6: 9-11). Now you know why Missy is seeking foreign gods because the fakes taught nothing about the One True God. That is why Missy is so unhappy in life and her relationships with men. The more she follows the doctrines of men the more unhappy she becomes. Yet pride prevents her from admitting her error and seeking God. You see Missy worships the false god "I". "I" is found at the beginning of idol and in the middle of pride.

Finally, I would like to thank Missy for the blessing. What blessing you ask? The blessing from painting me with the same brush as the fakes:
Blessed are you when men hate you, and osctracize you, and cast insults at you, and spurn your name as evil, for the sake of the Son of Man. Be glad in that day and leap for joy, for behold, your reward is great in heaven; for in the same way their fathers used to treat the prophets. Luke 6: 22-23

These words will come to mind at the time of your next broken relationship.

So ends the lesson (final posting) from an unworthy servant of the One True God,

Terry Dean, Nemmers

Terry Dean, Nemmers
Aug 8, '02 - 12:19 AM

Your comments won't be removed or edited, as you seemed to hope they would be. I think that there's always going to be plenty that offends you enough to fuel the fires of your smug self-satisfaction, no matter how narrowly blindered your field of vision is. You don't need to bait me so crassly.

Me? I'm the mysterious person you called "Missy." I'm the person you said is "so unhappy in life and her relationships with men." This is my website - which is why I sign my comments as "your host" - and I did forget to dispense with that jocular tradition and use my name... which is not a secret. My name is Mark Piepkorn; same last name as renowned Christian scholar Carl Piepkorn. No relation, though... it's just the supreme being showing you a little of that famous sense of humor. And for what it's worth, I'm happily married to a woman I don't subjugate.

Although "misplaced" is also apropos, as you suggest, I wrote "misspelled" and that's what I meant. You read the bible literally; try giving me the same courtesy. And try using a spellchecker, too; it's easy, and maybe it'll help the people you're trying to reach take you a little more seriously.

You might also try to tone down your heavy-handed self-righteousness. You were utterly off base about me, yet you spoke with complete conviction... as if you knew everything about me, when in fact your most basic assumptions were entirely wrong. You fell terribly short in that particular leap of faith. In the face of such egregious error, why would anyone think you know what you're talking about on any topic?

You wrote, about me: "Since you are the expert on the Scriptures..." Uh-uh. Unlike you, I'm not trying to pass myself off as an expert. I was relating the primary basis of my relevant experience and knowledge. And I'm not trying to say that I know the mind of anybody's god, as you claim you do by your words. That absolutely stuns me. Doesn't that make you that very thing? Is that what you think you are? God?

How many sects of Christianity are there? How many of them base their beliefs on the Christian bible? How is it that you presume to have a stronger link to the mind and heart of divinity than anybody else? Why do you think that you're in a position to judge others - particularly when it's expressly forbidden by your faith?

You wrote, "If you would read the Scriptures you would see that 99% of the churches (including your PRIVATE school) don't match the definition of Christianity."

Bad news, Terry: you haven't done anything to show me that you match the definition of Christianity, either.

Terry wrote, "You see Missy worships the false god 'I'. 'I' is found at the beginning of idol and in the middle of pride." Terry's point, hardly worthy of ridicule to begin with, is quickly obscured when it's noted that "I" is also the first letter in the transliteration of the name Jehova from its original Hebrew. Holy men of God spake and wrote as they were moved by the Holy Spirit. Some translators, though, use JHVH, while still others use YHVH.

Uh-oh... you mean the Christian bible wasn't originally written in English? You mean to tell me it was written by about 50 different people over more than 1500 years (starting more than a thousand years before the Christian era) in Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek? That there's only one original biblical book actually extant, and biblical scholars acknowledge that some English-language bibles are translations of translations of revisions of revisions of revisions of material often rooted in centuries-old oral tradition? Well, good thing there's never been any errors in any of those goings-on. Uh-oh, you mean there's been errors in translations? Well, that doesn't mean anything because it's not the words on the page that are important, it's the... uh-oh, that negates just about everything Terry's said. Nuts.

Your host, Mark Piepkorn
Aug 8, '02 - 4:01 PM




Aztec Motel, Route 66, Albuquerque

I don't care much for Albuquerque. On the whole, I find it a depressing place. But then, in one of the seedier stretches of town, there's the Aztec Motel... joy!




Another like this.

An expository paragraph, and what appears to be an earlier, more detailed article and photos (scroll about 3/4 of the way down) from the same people.

An article from the Albuquerque Journal.

:a: 


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You might be surprised to know that I toured the country for five months looking for the right place to live. I visited 26 states and around a hundred cities or so and Albuquerque was my favorite. I moved here six months ago from Boston and would never go back. Sorry you find it depressing.

Incidentally, there is a pile of weirdess behind the Aztec including at least one tree with several teddy bears nailed to it. This is a very idiosyncratic town.

Greg von Winckel
Mar 19, '02 - 6:04 PM



December 11, 2001; Tuesday

For whatever either one is worth: season's greetings



At mystical Carhenge, Fishmas Luckyduck receives blessings from St Elvis, and a friendly squeeze from youthful Stronzo.

It's a wonderful life.

Thengyaverymush.


I received the Santa-capped duck as an email attachment from Stronzo last year, or maybe the year before. So I gathered together a shot of Stronzo as a youngster (obtained from a conspirator), a pic of Elvis snagged off the web, and a photo I took of Carhenge in Nebraska, and set about manipulating and assembling.

:a: 


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Merry Christmas 2U2i, Bono & fellows and purple guy and improvised scratchy doggy and myself.

kurt
Dec 11, '01 - 5:32 PM

Ah, the little button from 2i - Minneapolis basically free jazz sax band, possibly the onlyest ever - with the foot-in-its-ear haiku dog.

What's this Bono thing? The Barney thing?

Happy holidays nonetheless to them too.

Your way-back machine'd host
Dec 20, '01 - 11:47 AM

Bono & fellows = U2

purple guy = Prince (due to 2U)

improvised scratchy doggy = you are correct, sir. I recently bought a reunion CD, yes. It is true.

myself = i

kurt
Dec 20, '01 - 12:15 PM

um . . . = 2i

kurt
Dec 20, '01 - 12:16 PM



December 10, 2001; Monday

Small tribute to Rodney

My friend Rodney - man of letters, art, and action - recording a song in my basement in St Paul half a decade or so ago when I lived in St Paul and had a basement and recorded things.



Check out his band, Shamus 73


:a: 


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What did you think of Rufus Harley, the world's first jazz bagpipe player?

rodney
Dec 16, '01 - 11:49 PM



December 8, 2001; Saturday

Tell me a story


:a: 


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Current random particulars, platitudes

Thanks timo (hope you're enjoying your respite), two-year-old jeremy, and king kurt rusty velournegutt the egregiously hacked for reminding me. I was enormously smitten by the Warhol quotes (both of them) until I got out my dollar-store tape of I Shot Andy Warhol, which helped smooth things back out again. That and the satisfying mental picture of Jeremy, his monitor, and the space between. Thanks to everyone else for putting up with all the "chickens clucking somewhere nearby" stuff. I'm not saying I'm done with it; I'm just saying thanks for playing.

Oh, before I forget, here: "big eye art" via Google (which hasn't de-indexed my images yet).

Alas, I wasn't geek enough to get Perl working on the laptop, but I do now have Movable Type up and running anyway at an undisclosed location. I wrestled Greymatter into submission via dialup; I can do it again with this one. After getting to know it better and doing some redesign, I'll switch over. Cross fingers it'll be soonish.

A new wrinkle lately is that we may go cheapskating around the Mediterranean after the New Year; for a number of weeks, perhaps as much as a couple months or more. Not a cruise... we're talkin' backpacks, walking until our legs are bloody stumps. It costs a bundle to get there, but apparently the dollar goes a mighty long way once you do. I ain't been in no foreign lands before (not including New Mexico and Iowa), so I'm game to try.

That would, of course, mean that things here would languish for a while. But one of the features Movable Type has is an alert-list function... so when the time comes (and I've got the kinks worked out), you can sign on to get an email at the crest of my breaking any long silences.

"I asked him for water... he gave me gasoline."

Jeremy saw Lucinda; I wonder if she sang that one. I saw her once, myself... it was maybe '89 or '90, at the 7th Street Entry. (How come I can't find even one worthwhile website about the Entry?)

:a: 


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Um, it's not directly about the Entry, but isn't this good enough?

And, no, she didn't sing hardly nuthin' older than two albums ago.

Jeremy
Dec 9, '01 - 12:39 AM

The 1st Ave site is so... clean. So danceteria.

I remember the old 7th St Entry; when the stage - on the other side of the room from where it's been for the last many years - was an even tinier, sadder thing than it is now. That was before the little tall tables and matching chairs, before the floor was tiered, before the stream of self-consciously-''underground'' murals. If I remember right, it was before Goofy's Upper Deck closed.

I was looking for a website that evoked that sense of the spirit of the place for me.

Somebody famous - I think it was Lydon - said, talking about the Replacements, that there was ''an element of danger'' in all their records. He said it in the latter days before maniac Bobby was kicked out of the band. For me, Bobby's guitar was the Replacements. Sure, there was Westerberg's songwriting... but it was that sloppy dumbfuck guitar, ''hotter than a urinary tract infection,'' that really did it to me.

And that's how I think of the Entry. That's how it was when I first got to know it... seeming somehow riskier and less ''legitimate,'' more urgent and vital. (Which by no means diminishes the times I had and bands I saw there after the remodel, which constitute the great preponderance of my 7th St Entry experiences.)

Your misty-eyed host
Dec 9, '01 - 6:55 PM



December 7, 2001; Friday

Big-eyed Warhol chicks


:a: 


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THAT's why you're doing this! To gain warmth from the mental image of me spitting whatever's in my mouth at the moment all over my monitor when I stumble across whatever incredibly funny thing you've put up on your site!

J.

jeremy
Dec 7, '01 - 3:10 PM

She's cute... in a Whooville sort of way...

E_B_A
Dec 7, '01 - 10:50 PM



December 4, 2001; Tuesday

MIA

What was the point of this again? Why am I doing this?

:a: 


Responses - 7
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A need to share information, express yourself, be appreciated. A compulsion...

"An artist is someone who produces things that people don't need but that he - for some reason - thinks it would be a good idea to give them." Warhol

timo
Dec 5, '01 - 1:27 PM

Y'know...I think it has something to do with my appearance depending on your existence or something like that.

jeremy
Dec 5, '01 - 6:31 PM

Besides which, Warhol - referring to kitschy paintings like the big-eyed children - also said something like "They can't be bad, they must be good, or else they wouldn't sell so many."

I think that's relevant in a way I'm not sure I can explain.

jeremy
Dec 5, '01 - 6:34 PM

I don't mean that quote in terms this *website*, just in terms of the 'blog revolution'...

jeremy
Dec 6, '01 - 10:42 AM

At risk of covering myself with blood and running screaming toward a polar bear I'll say you do it because of the chicks; chicks love these blog things.

kurt
Dec 6, '01 - 11:30 AM

I know I'm in it for the chicks. If I wanted intelligent discourse, I would have either stayed in rock and roll or a small animal veterinarian.

jeremy
Dec 6, '01 - 1:47 PM

Matters not why. In the words of many long-forgotten spokespersons, "Just do it."

kurt
Dec 7, '01 - 11:46 AM



December 3, 2001; Monday

I knew I heard chickens clucking

Jeremy reports that he's got Rhythm Chicken across the street from him.


But that's not a chicken, is it?

Cluck, cluck

:a: 


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Bathroom humor

Overnight, somebody (apparently Rodrigo) changed the sign in the bathroom.

Now I feel as though I'm being watched. In the bathroom. Which I'm of two minds about.

:a: 


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That wasn't Rodrigo, it was Babel Fish. (via Spanish)

Italian:

To attend I pray until that the toletta is not made flow. The handle will often have need jiggled because it continues to work. Thanks.

Portuguese:

It waits please until the toilet is to be even done. Frequent the fist will need jiggled because it is remained to function. It thanks it.

Japanese:

Until it is the washroom to be done and to washed away wait. Being to continue to move, the steering wheel needs the jiggled frequently. You appreciate in you and are it is.

Korean:

The toilet does and until the work which emits wait please. Running ci flag because of height the handle will do in jiggled necessity at any time. It will be extensive, thank.

Babel Fish
Dec 3, '01 - 11:35 AM



December 2, 2001; Sunday

Often the handle will need jiggled, it says


It appeared on the back of the toilet. It reminds me of this at hypnagogica.

Thanks to Jeanine from the gang at greenbuilder.com for bringing the memo to my attention. Jeanine is one of the most quick-witted people I know. Besides which she's the one who, like, a while ago now, clued me into Bad Girls Upset By The Truth by Jo Carol Pierce, wherein the blessed Virgin Mary says, "Y'all are not alone; these are very tough times for gendered creatures."

:a: 


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Thoughtful, serious, studious, inventive (and annoying)


"Shut up indoors during the long, though not dreary winters, in workshops and around firesides, our people must by and by become thoughtful, serious, studious, inventive." - William Watts Folwell, first president of the University of Minnesota, in his inaugural address.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Cartoon (with caption) by Dick Guindon from the book Guindon, published in 1977 by the Minneapolis Tribune. (In the photo on the back of the book, he looks an awful lot like Pa Little-House-On-The-Prairie... what's-his-name. The youngest Cartwright. The original teenage werewolf. Aggghh... Michael Landon, that's it.)

Anyway, the slow-loading website of Mpls.St.Paul Magazine, in its Encyclopedia Minnesotica, says of Dick Guindon: "Minnesota's greatest satirist, formerly with the Tribune, now living and working near Detroit. No one's ever done us better. Not Keillor, not even the Coens." (And of Sinclair Lewis and F. Scott Fitzgerald, it says: "Minnesotans tirelessly honor these state-bred literary lions. Unfortunately for Minnesotans, the feeling wasn't mutual. Both novelists left these parts early in life and never returned.")

I finally gave in and used the in-laws' scanner to get this cartoon posted, despite the inexplicable, frightening changes their computer's been undergoing lately, which have inspired me to stay away from it as much as possible. Previously, besides the fact that it's been generally topping 70 degrees (F) around here, it was my own dead scanner that prevented me from properly responding to Jeremy's 11.20.2001 post, which was about Greg's post of the same day. (See how that works? Spontaneous Simultude - but delayed. I am like a red tin bus. I hear chickens clucking somewhere nearby. Wait, wait, wait a sec... that last one's not Spontaneous Simultude: it's just annoying.)

:a: 


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Still hearing chickens? Are you having NM flashbacks? Should I call a doctor?

esposa (aka "it")
Dec 2, '01 - 10:57 PM

I dont hear chickens.

I see dumb people.

Nostra
Dec 4, '01 - 4:02 AM

Poor Nostra... What a sad, sad life you must have down there in Texas to be awake and on the internet at 4:00 in the morning calling people stupid when you "dont" even know how to work an apostrophe.

You came to look at the photos of the Schifferstadt Architectural Museum (probably from a link in an email you received from the CREST strawbale list) and you blew right through those. From there you connected into the stream of archived posts at potkettleblack, following them forward one by one: 22 seconds... next! 16 seconds... next! 14 seconds... next! So much time spent reading and comprehending.

And then even after you paused to make your comment, you didn't leave; you kept going self-righteously up through the rest of the entries.

But perhaps I'm missing the point of what you said. Maybe you were making a social commentary using the persona of Nostradamus, whose M.O. was clairvoyance and not clairaudience, saying that modern university life looks stupid from his centuries-ago perspective. Maybe it's something even much more clever than that. But somehow I just "dont" think so.

(It's just hard not to feel bad for people who have such a low opinion of themselves that they lash out anonymously. And this particular chickenshit didn't even read the Eating Death post, and so missed a brother-in-arms.)




Brand new words and old ones

Went to a production of the Precipice Improv Theater last night. The company's slogan is "No games; no gimmicks; just great theater" - but actually, they do have a gimmick, and it's exactly what enticed me to the show: They improvised the hour-and-a-half comedic play.

When I used to go to Dudley Riggs back in the old days (in and around the Peter Tolan era), I always made sure it was to a show that included improvisation after the sketch comedy. Unless they were winging loose material for upcoming productions, the improv was generally a bit like Whose Line Is It Anyway - but only just a bit. (By the way, the original British version of that program was superior, in my opinion, if only because it had a different host.)

Last night's event had its moments, some strong and many weak. I wouldn't advise a person not to go. Obviously, in improv - like in real life - each utterance and action either clicks in the moment or it doesn't; so while it would be possible to judge, it wouldn't be at all fair. And in any case, every member of the cast did far, far better than I could have. Be thankful next time you go to any performance of anything and you don't have to sit there watching me nervously staring back at you from the stage.

The show was in a small theater at The Writer's Center in Bethesda, Maryland. We got there early and found out that they'd had a books-by-the-pound sale that day. Sigh. But the kind woman in the office let us paw through the leftovers... a buck for hardbacks, fifty cents for paper. I kept myself in check handsomely, emerging with only two: The Random House Thesaurus of Slang (out of print), and The English Comedie Humaine from 1902 (totally out of print), which is a collection of "[m]asterpieces of the great English novelists in which are portrayed the varying aspects of English life from the time of Addison to the present day: a series analogous to that in which Balzac depicted the manner and morals of his French contemporaries."

:a: 


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December 1, 2001; Saturday

December 1 is World AIDS Day

"About 800,000 infants were infected with HIV, mainly through mother-to-child transmission in 2001. More than 10 million children currently under 15 have lost their mother or both parents to AIDS. Approximately 50 per cent of all new infections are occurring among young people."

- http://www.unicef.org/aids/


:a: 


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