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Showing posts from February 17, 2008

Landlord blues.

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What's the matter with me? I thought I put that thing away about an hour ago. My mind is becoming unhinged. (Did it have a hinge to begin with? And if so, what was it hinge-ing upon?) Weighty questions indeed. That's what you get here at the hammer mill... the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, that is... where you can find the answer to any question but one - how the hell can we stand living here? Now, don't get me wrong. It isn't because the place isn't well appointed (in fact, you might even say that it's dis -appointed) - this is part of its rustic charm. As someone who has spent much of his life in the lap (or some other anatomical area) of luxury, living in a squat house can be a refreshing change. (Especially on days when you've got running water.) No, no... I'm referring to the recent change in ownership, to wit, the unfortunate turn of events that resulted in our corporate label, Loathsome Prick Records, acquiring the title to this old wreck. And be

Off target.

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The U.S. military shot down one of its own spy satellites this week. The satellite (like our military policy itself) was dysfunctional and the Pentagon's originally-stated reason for the shoot-down was the fear that its fuel supply would survive re-entry, land in a populated area, and possibly expose people to lethal chemicals. Once the deed was done, however, that rationale started breaking down, at least judging by what I heard of the coverage (from NPR's Pentagon reporters, who are pretty close to being official spokespersons). The next day the military was suggesting, though its press surrogates, that the fuel wasn't all that dangerous and that, in any case, chances of its falling near civilization were around 3 out of 100. (Good thing, too, since as of Thursday morning they couldn't be certain they had destroyed the fuel tank.) Of greater concern to them at that juncture was the possibility that components of the satellite's surveillance technology would fall i