Hey yet again bloggers, or whoever could be reading this blog. And so here I find myself again attempting to maintain content for this blog and my other blagh whenever blaghers block possible in internetland. And even when it seems as if the world is crashing down all around me and that google page rank update still wants to send me in search of a fifth full time job, I still find myself blaghing for some reason or another. And so it’s those holy days holidays that have rolled around again this year according to that Gregorian calendar on the wall. And so I find myself recycling those holiday blog posts from yesteryear because hey, it’s less writing sometimes, I think. Have a great holy day holiday dayze and more.

A Holiday

Hey Bloggers, or whoever could be reading this blog. And this is still yet another one of those posts where I encounter that what could be called bloggers block again, as in what to blah bog about on this blog in that web 2.0 social media user generated content era. and so this posting I just thought of for some reason or another, happens to be about that Thanksgiving holiday here in that country of America. And it seems to be one of those calendar sanctioned days to observe. And yet another holiday and another year rolls around, so much that I must have blaghed abut that Thanksgiving day topic on this blog in the past. Where is that post? Oh I found it. Here are some excerpts from those posts with the word “Thanksgiving” in if from long lore ago…

And that day on the morrow must be Thanksgiving. I know because the supermarket lines that are out the door an the restaurant menus that are posted on their doors, everyone standing in New Jersey Transit lines, and DeCamp bus lines with baggage, and everyone riding the New York City subways with travelling baggage in tow says so. And remember the Indians, who were seemingly betrayed for a bag of beads, as this country of America may have been founded on violence….Have a great remember the Indians day and eat more tofurky.

And this excerpt also…

And this day also seems to be Columbus day, I know because the radio, the stores, the post office and libraries says so. And what does Columbus Day mean anyway, is that when Christopher Columbus discovered America and colonized it by violence or something and betrayed the Indians for twenty five dollars worth of trinkets, or is that Thanksgiving Day. Does that Internet bible dictionary Wikipedia have an entry for this sanctioned holiday in that country of America.

And this one too…

First there is Thanksgiving day I guess to usher in the shop more season. And is this holiday season about the holidays and peace on earth, or are the holidays about shopping, shopping, shopping or both. And then there is the day after Thanksgiving Day, Black Friday, and what is Black Friday, the buy everything you can at a discount rate day after the Thanksgiving Day holiday. And what about buy nothing day, that day to buy nothing day after thanksgiving day. And what about over consumption and the environment. And now web 2.0 cyber go online shopping and buy everything you can Monday? What’s that all about? What’s next in the consume everything you can at a bargain rate holiday world. Is there something in the works for buy everything you can Tuesday, or buy everything you can month or year. Or does that holiday already exist.

And also this one too…

Glorious Food

And the advertisers say today is Black Friday, Buy Nothing Day, and the day after Thanksgiving. And a friend of mine, Laura, sent this email yesterday for the Thanksgiving Day Holiday. The poem seems to be about food, food and more food, as I guess that is one of the things that this American holiday centers around. And I spent the whole day wondering if I should repost it or not. It is a poem. And as I remember Laura, she is always good for a great poem. Happy day after remember the Indians, Black Friday, Buy Nothing and poetry day.

Who Among You Knows the Essence of Garlic?

Can your foreigner’s nose smell mullets roasting in a glaze of brown bean paste and sprinkled with novas of sea salt?

Can you hear my grandmother chant the mushroom’s sutra?

Can you hear the papayas crying as they bleed in porcelain plates?

I’m telling you that the bamboo slips the long pliant shoots of its myriad soft tongues into your mouth that is full of oranges.

I’m saying that the silver waterfalls of bean threads will burst in hot oil and stain your lips like zinc.

The marbled skin of the blue mackerel works good for men. The purple oils from its flesh perfume the tongues of women.

If you swallow them whole, the rice cakes soaking in a broth of coconut milk and brown sugar will never leave the bottom of your stomach.

Flukes of giant black mushrooms leap from their murky tubs and strangle the toes of young carrots.

Broiling chickens ooze grease,yellow tears of fat collect and spatter in the smoking pot.

Soft ripe pears, blushing on the kitchen window sill,kneel like plump women taking a long, luxurious shampoo,and invite you to bite their hips.

Why not grab basketfuls of steaming noodles,lush and slick as the hair of a fine lady,and squeeze?

The shrimps, big as Portuguese thumbs,stew among cut guavas, red onions,ginger root, and rosemary in lemon juice,the palm oil bubbling to the top,breaking through layers and layers of shredded coconut and sliced cashews.

Who among you knows the essence of garlic and black lotus root,of red and green peppers sizzling among squads of oysters in the skillet,of crushed ginger, fresh green onions,and pale-blue rice wine simmering in the stomach of a big red fish?

— Garrett Hongo

Happy Thanksgiving, remember the Indians, their beads and trinkets, that twenty four dollars and the land of Manna-hatin, and eat more tofurkey. Happy Holy Dayze.

And I have heard it said that if you give up your dreams you die. And sometimes some things in life can be the only thing you have to live for. And so I found myself at that Theater for the New City Village Halloween Costume Ball last night on that day of Halloween that finds itself approaching around this time of year each year. And the program from that night describes this event as:

THE ANNUAL VILLAGE HALLOWEEN COSTUME BALL, is a 37-year old multilevel theatrical event during which the building’s 30,000 sq. ft. is transformed by sculptors, painters and scenic designers into a series of Halloween environments and simultaneous performances of every theatrical kind are held throughout the building and on the street outside. An average of 450 artists, performers, scenic designers and volunteers have an opportunity to showcase their talents in this one night extravaganza.  For many of the artists it is their first time working for the Theater alongside the main body of regulars who participate in the 30-40 productions that are done annually indoors.  This annual one night event reaches a combined audience of 2,000 from both indoors and outside on the street.  TNC was the original producer for the Annual Village Halloween Parade, when it won the Obie Award. Enjoy an Historic Halloween event.

And then there’s that basement wall with those murals on it where artists paint for Halloween each year that I found myself visiting again the next day, which is this day, the day after Halloween, to take photos of those Theater for the New City Halloween Costume Ball paintings on that basement wall. And so some of those photos of these Halloween murals for this Halloween year of 2013 find themselves posted above. And every day should be Halloween. We are free to be who we want to be. Have a great Halloween day of the dead day after and more.

And in between reading those Government Shutdown and other headline news of the day, that Gregorian calendar on the wall and all of these Halloween events say that it’s that Halloween calendar time of the year again, so much that I find myself posting these same Halloween posts from this blog last year, the year before, etc; for when that same calendar time of year rolls around again. Have a great Halloween day and more.
  
Abracadabra! Halloween is just around the corner and coming soon. So the calendar and advertising says so. It’s All Hallows Eve, All Saints Day, The Day of the Dead when ghosts and spirits appear. That scary, supernatural and mystical time of year when the the devil, Satan, Christ and the spirits of the dead come to town. When Pan and the Grim Reaper awakes and witchcraft and the witches and gargoyles and gothics come out to play and one when one gets to masquerade and play dress up for whoever they want to be. If only every day of the year could be Halloween then one could look however they want to when they go outside around civilization because hey, it’s Halloween.  And there will be lots of Halloween events around the city. 

Oh boy, it’s that time of year again that has found itself around again according to that Gregorian calendar on the wall. The end of summer and the beginning of the holy holiday season. And with that holy holiday season finds itself Halloween, All Saints Day, All Hallows Eve, The Day of the Dead,when the dead rise, a great excuse to dress however one wants and not care about it, or whatever one would want to call that scary, spooky, astrological, mystical, occult, witchcraft of a day.

it’s finally zombie day today is here. Boo! Horror, horror, abracadabra, trick or treat, the ghosts have come to town and the dead have risen, maybe, the pagans are out, the witches are here, the devils are here, the jack o lanterns are here, curses could abound. Ghouls, crows, vultures, black cats, spiders, goblins, zombies, mummies, skeletons, and demons are around. It’s ritual celebration of something time. And that’s such a cool photo of that devil and his pentacle above that I thought to post it in this entry for Halloween, All Hallows Eve, All Hallows Day, Day of the Dead, All Saints Eve, Night of the Witches or whatever you may want to call this what could be the coolest day of the year when everyone could be free to be who they want to be, maybe. If only every day could be Halloween, maybe.

Some stories do not end as you expect and the only thing constant is change. You take a deep breath, you jump and you hope that there is water at the bottom of the pool when you land. You can only play with the cards you are dealt. And a bunch of other sayings and philosophies on this blogging day. And it seems as if it could be another one of those spend all day and night on Facebook days to where I find myself posting this blog post I posted on this blog some time a while ago.

Hey Bloggers, or whoever could be reading this blog. And if I must say, in between reading online headlines in my internetaholicness, I am still finding myself in spacebook, myface, myplace, spaceplace, facebook, facespace, I mean facebook facebookaholicland. So much that even when it seems as if the world is falling down all around me and going to hell in a handbasket, I am still finding myself consumed in facebookland to where it seems as if I can forget to eat and sleep sometimes. So much that I thought to post this post that someone else just posted, that I thought was funny as heck, maybe. Have a great facebook day.

If you’ve ever wondered if you spend to much time on facebook, or whether it is a good thing your mom signed onto facebook or not, this Southpark episode will set you straight.

Hey again bloggers or whoever could be reading this blagh. And being that that Google page rank update is still sending me in search of a fifth full time job, and seemingly a lot of other get rich quick with this website people as well, for when that get rich internet quick does not get rich internet quick, I find myself blogging about whatever comes to mind sometimes in an attempt to maintain content for this blog and my other blog whenever bloggers block possible. And so I found myself in that state of Missouri the other day, in that city of Kansas going to one of those family reunions, something that was like visiting ones family without ones family, or something like that. And it was kind of like you know when you watch those generations of life pass you by. And so I attempted to make the best out of it as much as I could, using this event as a great excuse to drag that camera out of the closet to take some of those photos that find themselves posted above. And if I must blagher say, some of those lawns that find themselves in that state of Kansas, well they must need a tractor to mow the lawn when the lawnmower wont get it. And I have actually found myself in this city of Kansas before some time a while ago. And that soul train line that finds itself posted above, well that was one soul train line picnic event. And in other KCMO blogger thoughts, what’s up with those churches and how long has it been since I’ve been to one of those churches. Am I still stuck in the stone age when it comes to everyone pulling out one of those cell phones, iPads or some other kind of film and video this church service device as if church has literally become some kind of theater spectacle. Since when did half of the congregation start holding up their cell phones, even the preacher, well at least the people in the church pew and church band, and even the church choir, start videotaping church services, during the service as if church has literally become a performance or musical to be videotaped or something. How are cell phones even allowed in church for this reason? Have all churches become record this service with my cell phone spectacles? Stuck in the stone age technology dang. Have a great family day and more.

And on this day here on planet earth seems to find itself as that holiday of Labor Day that has rolled around again according to that Gregorian calendar on the wall, the day of labor, to where I find myself reading articles with titles like Labor Day Is a Scam To Keep You Poor and Miserable Forever . And so enough about that topic of labor. Instead I find myself wanting to blagh about those cell phones again, those what seems like science fiction technology things that find themselves all over the planet on planet earth. And so that photo that finds itself posted above, well that was from a BuzzFeed article titled 25 Pictures That Prove Society Is Doomed. And so I find myself posting this Robot Nation post that found itself posted on this blog some time a while ago in attempt to maintain content for this blog and my other blog whenever blaghers block possible. Have a great Labor Day and more.

Robot Nation

Hey Bloggers, and today in America at least, is it the world also? This day seems to be finish giving ones social security mark of the beast 666 number tax day where one gives unto Caesar what is Ceasers. And who is Ceaser anyway? And for what reason does the word Caeser sound like CZAR. and in other thoughts, what’s up with technology these days. Is this the result? I was sitting on that MTA subway train the other day going my way listening to their prerecorded terrorize the riders with those “If you see something say something” messages and I noticed that practically everyone on the train has a wire hanging out of their ears with some sort of walkman like, I guess iPod like device, listening to or watching something on the other end. And those who were not attached to wires were staring at or fidgeting with cell phones of some sort. And this all seemed like some sort of scene out of a science fiction movie to me as I seem stuck in the stone age of technology or something. And then there are those people who are walking around town with mini, tiny cell phones attached to their ears. Hugh? And then there are those almost non stop telemarketer phone calls that one seems to get all day long and night with what seemingly seems like every sales pitch under the son that man can think of. And those telemarketer calls seem to be automated and voice activated these days with prerecorded messages pitching some sort of product with some sort of persons prerecorded voice in every single emotion that one can think of. And these prerecorded voices even seem to speak to answering machines, and can even fill up an answering machine if one is not careful to empty those messages on that answering machine in time. How long have I been stuck in the technology stone age? What has technology done to humanity. Is this the result, a robot nation? Have a great technology and more day.

And in between reading the headline news of the day, each one more horrifying than the next as in the age of Kali Yuga, well not all of them, somehow those verses and chapters from Ecclesiastes, some kind of words of wisdom from that great book The Bible came to mind, so much that I thought to post them on this blog in my religious fanaticism. And it seems to have something to with vanity, labor and toiling under the sun, for what? To leave ones labor, the fruits of ones labour to someone else? Or something like that. All is vanity and vexation of the spirit. Have a great Bible and more day in bloggerland.

Ecclesiastes 1

Hey again bloggers or whoever could be reading this blagh. And I have been following the story of this WBAI headline that has made the light of day in the headline news the past few days with a WBAI, Pacifica Radio in New York City, Lays Off News Department, and Most On-Air Talent Village Voice article facebook post that led me to reading even more facebook pages such as Pissed – Off WBAI Workers, Save Kpfa, and Pacifica Foundation Radio and then to even listen to WBAI on the radio for what’s the latest news drama. And if I must blagher say, the guy who wrote this The Excruciating Demise of WBAI article has said everything that I would have wanted to say and could not say in my wbai commentary as I have been following this story since it came to light. And if I must blogger say again, this guy seems to have summed up the latest WBAI radio drama up so well that I thought to repost his article on this blog in it’s entirety as follows, because hey, it’s less writing sometimes, I think. And what if anything does this have to do with a No Police State.

The Excruciating Demise of WBAI

By Doug Henwood

On August 9, WBAI, the listener-supported radio station, announced that it was laying off most of its paid staff. The only surprise in the announcement was that it took so long.

WBAI, one of five stations in the national Pacifica network, has been failing for years. Some of its problems are the familiar ones of “legacy” media, to use that annoying but fashionable term. But most of its problems were home grown. The programming was mostly unlistenable. Hosts who couldn’t talk very well yammered on about material they didn’t understand. Interviewers knew nothing about their interviewees. Health nuts flogged miracle cures and conspiracists spun elaborate theories. I recall turning on the morning drive time show and listening for 20 minutes to someone the host never identified—and, in all that time, I never got an idea of what the interview was supposed to be about.

It wasn’t always like this. I grew up listening to WBAI as a teenager in the late 1960s. Stranded in the desert of suburban New Jersey, it was thrilling to discover all the rich radical culture and politics happening just 20 miles from where I languished. But it wasn’t just a hippie outpost. There was plenty of high culture—radio plays, classical music festivals—mixed in with live coverage of the 1968 Paris riots and the explosion of Stonewall-era gay politics.

Starting in the 1970s, conflicts grew over the largely white, male, and “elitist” programming, conflicts that became so intense that the station went off the air for a month in 1976. But the station survived, and remained a fixture of the New York countercultural scene. (It makes a cameo appearance in Dean Friedman’s 1977 top 40 hit, “Ariel.”) Its complexion changed dramatically in the 1980s and 1990s, a transformation capped by the appointment of Samori Marksman, a sophisticated and charismatic Caribbean Marxist, as program director in 1994. Marksman had been a producer at the station since the late 1970s, and gave me my first radio break in 1987, interviewing me on his show right after the great stock market crash. He then promoted me to doing regular commentaries on his show, and then in 1995, gave me a weekly show of my own.

But when Marksman died suddenly in 1999, there was no one of any stature to succeed him. There began a decade of civil war within WBAI, with faction fighting faction. Charges of “racism” were lobbed constantly. A succession of managerial mediocrities drove the station into the ground. Excruciating stupidity was embraced in the name of populist programming. For several years in the mid-2000s, the station was run by a cabal of black nationalists of an antique and alienating sort. They were forced out by Pacifica central, only to be replaced by an even less distinguished (though not black nationalist) set of sub-mediocrities.

Through all this internal turmoil and on-air rot, the audience predictably dwindled to the point of becoming nearly immeasurable by the Arbitron surveys. Once a major presence in New York City politics and culture, it became utterly irrelevant. It didn’t even earn a mention in the NYPD’s intelligence files around the 2004 Republican convention, and it was irrelevant to Occupy Wall Street, which occurred blocks from its headquarters.

And since the station gets most of its income from listener contributions, cash flow shriveled. Fundraising marathons, which once took up a week or two every quarter, were lengthened, and featured ever-crazier premiums: 9/11 conspiracy videos, of course, but also things like DNA water, whatever that is. The remaining sane and solvent listeners turned away, making for longer, crazier fundraisers. Staff morale plummeted with all the infighting, crises, and endless fundraising, which eventually took up a third of every year.

I’d somehow managed to survive all the internal hostilities until 2010. I’d teased the interim program director—a fellow named Tony Bates, with no discernible talent other than promoting dubious conspiracy and quackery fundraising premiums on air—about “hawking merchandise,” and it annoyed him so much that he squeezed me out. Fortunately, Pacifica’s Berkeley flagship station, KPFA, had been picking up my show, and I continued doing it for them. I really like doing radio, and it was a relief to be delivered from all the madness that characterized WBAI during its decade-long death spiral.

From a distance, I continued to watch as the station approached the terminal phase. WBAI fell seriously behind on studio and transmitter rents, and earlier this year payroll checks started bouncing. Its studios—oddly located on Wall Street—were hammered by Sandy, which was close to a death blow. Driven out of its home, it’s been essentially couch surfing since.

Pacifica management had no choice but to move in and fire much of the paid staff, which was costing it $25,000 a week that the station didn’t have. The network has appointed Andrew Philips as interim program director at WBAI. Mr. Philips is a refugee from KPFA, where he was interim program director (there are a lot of “interim” managers at Pacifica, because the hiring process is so fraught with controversy), but was suspended for some alleged misconduct about which no one, including Mr. Phillips, has been fully informed, though it’s thought to involve charges of “racism.”

Mr. Philips, a lively and sharp-tongued Australian who was program director at WBAI from 1989 to 1994, has the unenviable task of trying to revive a near-corpse with almost no staff and an empty bank account. He figures he has six weeks to come up with a strategy. A generous beneficiary has offered studio and office space in Brooklyn, but it’s going to take money to build out the new digs.

For now, Mr. Phillips is importing programming from Pacifica’s California stations, most of it far better than anything that WBAI has managed to produce in more than 20 years. (Disclosure: he wants to bring my program back on the air.) Mr. Phillips ambitiously wants to go up against Don Imus and NPR and create vivid, listenable programming instead of the dismal fare the station had been serving. If he’s right, the station might survive. If not, well, the license could be sold for a lot of money. By a historical quirk, WBAI is on a commercial frequency, 99.5, rather than one of the noncommercial ones at the low end of the dial. That means that WBAI is worth more dead than alive, at least in monetary terms. God only knows what Pacifica would do with scores of millions of dollars, though.

Doug Henwood is the editor of Left Business Observer, a newsletter on economics and politics he founded in 1986, and host of “Behind the News,” a weekly radio show broadcast on KPFA, Berkeley. He is the author of Wall Street (Verso, 1997) and After the New Economy (New Press, 2004). He lives in Brooklyn.

And so here goes another one of those posts that was posted on this blog sometime a while ago in an attempt to maintain content for this blog and my other bog whenever blaghers block possible.

Damn… It ain’t 2012 yet!

They tried to sell me out the day I was born… injecting me with disease thru vaccination…