Hammer Mill Days

Right up those stairs ... watch your step, now ... is the master bedroom. The one with the stagnant puddles in the middle of the floor. That's where that drip in the living room is coming from. We're conserving water, you see. "Big Green" has to stand for some thing. Oh, hello blog post readers from around the world (and Italy, too). This may not be the best time to drop by. I'm taking a potential renter on the grand tour of the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, our palatial squat here in upstate New York. Times being what they are (and gigs being pretty thin on the ground just lately), we have been forced to consider the possibility of taking on tenants. Yes, I advertised in the local Pennysaver. (Someone said I should move up to the Nickelsaver, but I'm not made of money, frankly.) Gotten quite a few calls, at least by Marvin (my personal robot assistant)'s count. He's answering the phone, which is helpful... but I'm a little tired of the voicemail...

Yes, I know. The president's bin Laden victory lap was a bit much by Spock standards. (George W. Bush being more in the Kirk category.) But by the standards of American election year politics, it was pretty subtle. So the resulting outrage from the right was all the more laughable. Seriously - these are the people who had Dubya fly a jet fighter onto an aircraft carrier (which they had turned around to keep San Diego out of the shot), parade around in a flight suit, and then do his famously premature victory speech under an enormous "Mission Accomplished" banner. These are the people who incessantly reminded us of their greatness throughout the Bush terms, and who continue to this very day. Luckily for them, we are Americans and, as such, are born anew each and every morning. We have no collective memory, like a nation in advanced dementia. We do not value knowledge of our own history; in fact, the very term 'history' carries a negative connotation. Our politici...