Category Archives: Music

PLANNING DEJA VU

PLANNING DEJA VU Fri, 26 Sep 2008 15:50:07

Hippies were big on deja vu the trippy notion that stuff repeats man. The powers that be in Debrisville are also big on deja vu man. There are more fracking planning meetings. In this instance they’re for a master plan as opposed to a recovery plan BUT the recovery planning meetings often covered ideas to be used in a master plan. Additionally there was a  completed but never voted upon master plan pre-K. Do we really need to go back to the drawing board and shell out more consultant fees?

Whassup with this? I realize that some people *love* meetings but the latest planning frenzy seems a bit fishy to me. The pre-K master plan leaned in the preservationist direction which probably made it insufficiently pro-demolition to suit C Ray Kaiser Ed and developers. I gave up in disgust on the planning process after only attending 444 meetings but many of my readers perservered out of either dedication or… uh…perversity. Any of you lot have any thoughts on the latest round? I could be wrong BUT my experience with the planocrats has made me suspicious. 

Speaking of hippies and deja vu here’s CSNY:

BEGIN THE BEGIN

Sat, 29 Dec 2007 05:38:41

REM was a great band before they jumped the shark sometime in the mid-Nineties. They were the *ultimate* indie band for much of the Eighties. (I expect some harumphing from some of my punkier colleagues.) They’re also from Athens Georgia which is of course where the University of Georgia is located. Although it’s hard to imagine super spaz front man Michael Stipe hollering “how bout dem dawgs ” ya never know. I know one thing: Stipe had weird hair before he adopted the Mr. Clean/Daddy Warbucks/Michael Jordan look. I don’t think a Southern white boy should ever wear a queue (aka Manchu pigtail.) Stipe looks like a cross between Bonanza’s Hop Sing and Elmer Fudd in the following video which was filmed during the Green tour in 1989:

I spent some time hanging out in the non-Hellenic Athens during my misspent youth. My friends Susan and Steve were temporary trailer trash (aka UGA students) at that point. In fact they lived in SIN for a while so they even had a “guest” trailer wherein they claimed for parental consumption that one of them lived. I spent a *really* uncomfortable night in the “guest” trailer: I was attacked by a kudzu crazed goat or something equally bizarre. (The preceding statement was a grotesque exaggeration which is probably a first on this blog.) I forgave them that as well as Susan’s downright Byzantine directions to the Athenian trailer park. And she has in turn forgiven me for teasing her relentlessly about said directions. So much so that Susan and Steve made like Bob Dylan and gave us shelter from the storm back in August 2005. Of course Susan’s directions to their house in Bossier City were a bit well different if you catch my drift.
I seem to be morphing into a vanity blogger before your very eyes. Of course I think that’s a contradiction in terms: all bloggers are vain and probably think this post is about them…

 IMAGINE ALL THE YACHTSMEN

Thu, 21 Sep 2006 03:42:02

It’s NOLA blog echo chamber time time time time. Actually some of the other bloggers *have* been all over this story: Oyster has been piratical in his analysis and Schroeder has been pianistic. The big shout out however goes to my favorite American Zombie Dambala. He broke the Greg Meffert/Imagine Software/Yacht story weeks before the Picayune. Dambala has been very gracious and complimentary about Gordon Russell’s work on this story. And Gordon *is* one of the best reporters at the TP so the praise is merited. Here are links to Mr. R’s Sunday and Wednesday stories.

For those of you who aren’t part of the NOLA blog echo chamber chamber chamber chamber here’s a brief description of what’s going on. Greg Meffert recently resigned as NOLA CTO chief cook and bottle washer. In short he was C Ray’s right hand man and chief clone. Meffert went around standard city contracting processes to give Imagine his former company most of NOLA’s technogeek business. Meffert’s successor as CTO is former Imagine partner Mark Kurt. It’s a relationship as incestuous as a Mormon polygamy cult or an Appalachian jug band.

The spiciest part of the current controversy revolves around the ownership of a yacht the Silicon Bayou; as in microchip not implant get your minds out of the gutter  folks. Meffert claims that he owns the yacht despite all the evidence to the contrary. It appears as if Imagine Software is the real owner. Why does this matter? If Imagine owns the yacht a city contractor has been doin’ favors for the man who claims to be purer than Caesar’s wife man: Clarence Ray Nagin man. I love the smell of hypocrisy in the morning. Meffert steadfastly maintains that he owns the yacht but my gut tells me that he’s covering for C Ray. It’s what  C Ray’s krewe of clones does…

Finally the title of this post was inspired by Mistah John Lennon’s song “Imagine.” It has been a mystery to me why this song has endured: it has some of the worst lyrics John ever wrote. It sounds as if it was run through the Yoko meat grinder y’all. Anytime I hear Yoko rag on Macca’s lyrics I think what about “Imagine” or “Oh Yoko?” Me I woulda called the last one “Oh no Yoko.”

Elvis Costello wrote a song called “The Other Side Of Summer” that contained this cool parody: “Was it a millionaire who said imagine no possessions?” And like me Declan is a Lennon fan but a bad lyric is a bad lyric is a bad lyric is a bad lyric. Damn I wish I could shut off that fricking echo chamber effect effect effect effect…

VINCE WELNICK, R.I.P.

Tue, 18 Jul 2006 03:30:50

I just learned from my new friend Lisa Palumbo that an old acquaintance of mine Vince Welnick committed suicide on June 2 2006. Vince was one of the original Tubes later played with Todd Rundgren and had a 5 year stint as the Grateful Dead’s 6th and final keyboard player. The keyboard slot was to the Dead what drummers were to fictional rockers Spinal Tap: JINXED. Vince also fronted his own band Missing Persons.

When I knew Vince back in the heyday of the Tubes he was usually the coolest guy in the room and always the best pianist. Vince was known for his bushy hair wraparound shades and slightly goofy smile. Vince suffered from severe depression in his final years and was embittered over being excluded from various re-groupings by the Dead. It’s a very sad story indeed.

Despite his time with the Dead I’ll always think of him as the token sane member of that gloriously insane band the Tubes. The Tubes were known for their elaborate stage show and Vince was the straight man just like John Entwistle was in the Who. And like the late great Who bassist Vince was a brilliant musician. When Vince tickled the ivories they tickled him back y’all.

I recall Vince as a sweet and kindly man and a generous musician. He was a joy to play with and it’s a shame that he came to such a tragic end.  Au revoir mon ami.

 It’s A Crazy Kim Sign Of The Times/The Boss Does Jazz Fest

Wed, 08 Mar 2006 19:59:54

Item-1 It’s A Crazy Kim Sign Of The Times: Just when I was suffering from Crazy Kim withdrawal syndrome which causes one to embarrass oneself in public and wear humongous earrings I saw this in the local rag’s account of the Mayoral debate“A few hours before the telecast began another odd chapter in the ongoing soap opera starring Butler unfolded outside the federal courthouse where she was sentenced Monday. About 30 supporters picketed on her behalf carrying either fluorescent pink or green handwritten posters: “Honk to Free Kimberly ” “Kimberly for Mayor” and “Kim Possible.”

But no members of the crowd which included several teen-agers and children were willing to say why they were there or how they knew the clerk. “We can’t comment ” one man said as he marched past with his sign in front of U.S. District Court. “The sign says more than enough.”

I wonder if the Five Man Electrical Band were there playing their moldy oldie “Signs.” It *was* an anti-establishment tune after all:
“Sign sign everywhere a sign. Blockin’ out the scenery breakin’ my mind. Do this don’t do that can’t you read the sign?”

Of course Crazy Kim flies a different kind of freak flag than the hippies in the song but a freak is a freak is a freak. Of course in the vernacular of the early Seventies Crazy Kim is a Jesus freak man. Time for the obligatory Zappa reference when the word freak is used: hungry freaks daddy. Ahh I love blogging; where else could you couple Zappa and Kimba? One is alas long dead whereas the other is merely brain dead…

Back to what passes for reality in the Crazy Kim saga. If I had one I’d bet the ranch that the peeps picketing were either Kim’s employees or members of her bible thumping church.

Item-2 The Boss Does Jazz Fest: Quint Davis made a lot of people’s day when he announced that Bruce Springsteen will be playing Jazz Fest. The Boss and the Seeger Sessions Band will be closing out the first weekend of the Fest on Sunday April 30th. Now I may have to break down and go to the fricking Acura Stage for the first time in years.

It’s unclear who will be in the band but they’ll obviously be playing songs from Bruce’s upcoming album “We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions.” The album will consist of 13 folk songs associated with the great Pete Seeger.

Welcome back to Debrisville Bruce.

Below two American heroes. I think John Kerry just spotted Crazy Kim in the crowd and is telling Bruce they need to tough it out; no retreat no surrender:

Mike Hammer Wimps Out

Mon, 06 Mar 2006 06:00:00

I am of course referring to the NOLA investment banker Mike Hammer who ended his mayoral campaign with a whimper by not even qualifying instead he endorsed Gorilla Ron Forman. His well-known fictional counterpart Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer is outraged. Regular readers of this blog know that the real albeit fictional Mike Hammer is a recurring visitor to the Adrastos Virtual Cafe and he’s my guest blogger today. Take it away enraged fictional person:

An Open Letter From Mike Hammer to Mike Hammer: Give Me Back My Name-

Hey Mikey what the hell were ya thinking? I thought you were a stand up guy but now you’ve folded your tent and wanna slink off in the night like a weenie. I never figured you for a wuss who’d be scared off by a guy named Clarence. Imagine that: Clarence Ray Fucking Nagin. Chocolate city, schmocolate city. I was counting on you to slap some sense into C Ray pally. I’m fucking disappointed Mikey, you share my name so I share your shame. Damn, I’m rhymin’ like that preachin’ pol from Chicago now and it’s down to you Mikey boy. Look what you’ve driven me to. There’s not enough whiskey in the world to drown my sorrows tonight.  Not even my Sinatra records can make me feel better. And if the chairman of the board can’t pick a man up slap him around and make him whole again nothin’ can. I’m also blue because Darren McGavin who played me on the tube in the Fifties died last week and I was too busy shaking down drunks for beads on Bourbon Street to go to the funeral.  It’s just me and Stacy Keach left now so I gotta be careful. I dunno why an actor who played me has got a girl’s name but he’s a stand up guy in spite of it.

We Mike Hammers gotta stick together and you let me down, pally. It hurts man.I got an idea how you can make this right Mikey boy. Give my back my name. That’s right. It was mine long before you were a bun in the oven or even a glint in your lecherous pa’s eye. Give me back my name. Got a nice ring to it don’t it? My pal Adrastos tells me that there’s a rock song of that name  by some combo called Talking Heads. Now except for Elvis I don’t go in for that rock-n-roll crapola; give me Sinatra, Eckstine, Torme, and broads like Ella, Rosie, and Sarah any day.  But those Talking Heads they got a point Mikey boy. Give me back my name. I know their singer is a doofus in a big suit but even a dork can make sense some of the time. Tell ya what Mikey boy give me back my name and I’ll leave you be. I won’t even kick your ass for supporting that poser Gorilla Ron. A guy named Mike Hammer should be for the working stiffs and that Gorilla Ron is just a stiff. Here’s my final offer: give me back my name and I’ll go easy on you pally.

Mike Hammer

Back to you Adrastos:

Thanks Mike. Those were lenient terms. Btw, the doofus in the big suit is named David Byrne and he stopped making sense years ago. And Mike I think Adrian Monk coined the perfect term to describe Banker Mike Hammer: he’s a muss; part man and part wuss. Yeah I know, Monk is too tidy for your taste Mike but you gotta admit he’s one helluva shamus…

Crazy Kim Resurfaces

Fri, 03 Mar 2006 18:21:28

Just when I thought that the Kimberly Butler Williamson saga couldn’t possibly get any weirder it did. (After 18 years in Crazytown you’d think I’d know better: we be weird is our motto.) KBW is the blogger’s gift that keeps on giving. Merci Kimba. Yesterday the loony runaway clerk phoned into a talk radio show and called the judges “crazy” and she knows from crazy y’all. This morning Crazy Kim showed up in court after 7 days on the lam. She wasn’t arrested but was charged with contempt and will have to appear before Judge Johnson on Monday.

Guess what y’all it gets even weirder. Outside the courthouse   Ms. Nutbar spoke to the press and announced that she was running for Mayor. I laughed so hard that I nearly broke a rib when I heard the “news.” Now that she’s made a total mess at the Clerk’s office she wants to apply her Queen Midas in Reverse touch to the city as a whole. Looking truly mad Butler told the bemused and amused press corps:

“For 17 years I’ve been a revitalization specialist ” she said before telling the gathering that she shouldn’t be Clerk of Court but should instead be mayor.  “When I was pushed out of City Hall for trying to do the right thing I chose to stay here ” she said. “Then Katrina wiped out my home and I chose to come back.”

Let me get this straight:  Mad Kim has no chance of winning re-election to her current post so she’s going to run for higher office. She’s become the Syd Barrett of NOLA politics. The lunatic *is* on the grass. Shine on you crazy diamond we’ll see you on the dark side of the moon...

For my non-Debrisville readers I’d like you to know that Crazy Kim is a transplanted nutjob not a homegrown one. I think that her campaign strategy is to split the crazy vote with C Ray. She also told the press that she’d heard from many people who want her to run for Mayor. Yeah the voices in her head…

Sing, Mitch, Sing/A Soap Opera: Oliver, C Ray and Dr. House

Thu, 23 Feb 2006 06:00:00

Item-1  Sing Mitch Sing: Singin’ Lt. Governor Mitch Landrieu threw his hat in the Mayoral race ring today. Mitchell oughta consider putting his hat back on: the man is seriously bald but he’ll be a better Mayor than the current bald guy. Landrieu’s entrance into the race gives us a chance to ponder what his campaign theme song should be. Mitchell is a tenor so any number of Temptations songs spring to mind but “Ball Of Confusion” may well be the most appropriate. Hit it Mitchell: “Ball of confusion that’s what New Orleans is today hey hey. Ball of confusion time for C Ray to go away hey hey.”

Item-2  A Soap Opera: Oliver C Ray and Dr. House: Token City Council grownup and gifted amateur thespian Oliver Thomas who is African-American wants to change the culture in Debrisville’s housing projects aka the Bricks: “We don’t need soap opera watchers right now we need workers.”

Oliver also reassured law abiding New Orleanians that the City will no longer allow the Bricks to be breeding grounds for crack dealing trigger-happy homicidal gangbangers who mostly prey on other black folks. Let them stay in Houston or Dallas where there’s more to steal; in the immortal words of Tom Petty “don’t come around here no more.” That *used* to be C Ray’s position too but now he’s criticizing Oliver for being too blunt. Today he said that he wants “everyone to come home.” Are you nuts C Ray? Oh yeah that’s right he is…

I’m  proud of Oliver for having the guts to speak so plainly and bluntly. He’s also refused to backtrack or soften his words. Way to go Oliver. In a perfect Adrastos political world Oliver would be the next Mayor and Mitchell the next Governor.

It will be interesting to see which of his old friends C Ray or Mitchell gets Oliver’s endorsement. I bet a tenner on the tenor: C Ray has treated Oliver like warmed over shit post-K and never listened to him pre-K.

Back to Oliver’s soap opera imagery. I can actually think of one soap opera watcher who *could* help us: Dr. Gregory House of Fox-TV fame. Mind you he’s a fictional doctor but he’s a brilliant one and he’s addicted to “General  Hospital” as well as vicodan and non-PC wisecracks. Besides he’s played by Hugh Laurie who’s one of the funniest people on the planet; just thinking of his Bertie Wooster makes me cackle titter and giggle. We could all use a few laughs here in Debrisville.

Paging Dr. House emergency come right away and bring Jeeves along while you’re at it. Indeed sir.

 Calling Bob Weir

Mon, 30 Jan 2006 20:30:58

Well, a few minutes after I blogged this morning Mrs. Moron drove off in the Moronmobile. They seem to be moving at a record pace for them: a mere 6 days instead of 13. When the first Moron watch ended I quoted Marty Balin this time it’s the Grateful Dead’s Bob Weir’s turn: I need a miracle everyday. And apparently I got one. It’s not exactly the immaculate conception but hey I’ll take it. I was beginning to think that “Touch Of Grey” would be more fitting but that’s a Garcia-Hunter song and Jerry’s hard to get ahold of these days alas. Perhaps the Morons planned to move  faster but were too busy reading Strindberg for their next coffee klatch with Harvard Boy. And Harvard Boy is a stern taskmaster…

Speaking of the Weir-Barlow tune “I Need A Miracle ” it was a catch phrase used by bedraggled Deadheads seeking tickets outside sold-out arenas man. Sometimes it worked too man. Ah the things I recall from my misspent youth man; frankly it’s amazing that I remember anything at all man. But there’s no truth to the rumor that I ever liked patchouli oil or played hacky-sack.  Of course patchouli oil does serve as an excellent hippie detector if detecting hippies is your thing. It’s not mine that’s a job for Guy Noir or Mike Hammer. Probably not Mike Hammer: he’d pour the patchouli oil down some poor hippies’ throat and shove incense sticks up their nose. I can’t have such a thing on my conscience.

The Renunciation On Annunciation

Sun, 29 Jan 2006 06:06:08

It’s rainy here in Debrisville so I’m glad that the blue tarp on the roof is history which according to Neil Finn never repeats. Our friendly neighborhood contractors Marc and Jeff have re-roofed 3 houses on this block of Constance Street. They live a mere 5 blocks away so Harvard Boy Chicago Mike and I know where to find them if anything goes wrong. If that happens it could be called the Renunciation on Annunciation; sort of like the Thrilla In Manilla only without the pugilism. Like Michael Palin’s Inquisitor Cardinal Fang our main weapons will be  surprise and sarcasm. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.

After that marginally coherent introduction on with the show this is it:

Item-1 The New Moron Watch: Who could ever forget the 13 day flat tire watch? Well, my madcap trashy and idiotic neighbors are at it again. It’s now Day-5 of the unmoved Moronmobile Watch. Mrs. Moron no longer drives her car for whatever reason: me I think it’s because it’s a Ford and they suck. The Moronmobile was parked in front of their house for weeks without moving and parking is very tight here in Debrisville. Last Wednesday   Mr. Moron backed up the crappy Ford and left it in front of my house. I decided to try diplomacy and politely asked him to please park in front of his house instead. He grunted and said: “I’ll move it later.” It’s still there. In Crazytown later *really* means later.

Perhaps this sounds (tom) petty to some of you but the Morons tree hit the back of our house during the storm. The easiest and best way to get the tree off our house was to put a ladder on their side of the common fence. Mrs. Moron was home but didn’t answer the doorbell when we rang. So much for people being ennobled by shared suffering. So I’m entitled to be small and (tom) petty where they’re concerned. Dr A is even more rabid about the Morons than I am and she’s usually the nice one. Besides what’s a little pettiness among friends? <cueing “don’t come around here no more”>

A final Mr. and Mrs. Moron story. I saw them speaking to my friend Harvard Boy yesterday afternoon. I suspect that they were discussing Judge Alito’s views on original intent or perhaps even parsing the meaning of Professor Yiannopoulous’ treatise on Civil Law Property. Dr. A believes that it was a literary discussion: that the Morons were trying to figure out what Ibsen was really driving at when he wrote “Ghosts.” Which was it Harvard Boy?

Item-2 Tax Cut Time: Well folks those zany Orleans Parish tax assessors are at it again. The assessors here are elected: I call them the 7 Dwarfs. Yup that’s right we have 7 tax assessors. It’s totally nuts. Even crazier is the fact that undamaged houses in unflooded sections of the city are being reassessed: down down down even though property values are up up up. Now since my property taxes are going down 15% I suppose I shouldn’t criticize the proverbial gift horse and smack it in the mouth. BUT this is insane the city is starved for money and they’re cutting taxes during a crisis. Who the hell else would do such a stupid thing? Oh that’s right the Federal government under President Beavis has cut taxes during wartime. And people think that we’re crazy…

Item-3: Post-Katrina Promises Unfulfilled: Saturday’s Washington Post (WaPo to news junkies) had an outstanding front page article by Spencer Hsu that played the old compare and contrast game. Mr. Hsu took a look at the promises made by a certain President in his Jackson Square speech on 9/15/05 and found that he’s kept almost none of them. In the immortal words of Gomer Pyle “Surprise surprise surprise.”