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Showing posts from July 22, 2012

All's well that ends.

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That's no good. They will certainly have lifted the phonograph needle by that point. The phonograph needle ... you know... the thing that scratches along the record and makes the music come out. Don't you know anything about technology? Oh, hello. Didn't see you there, peering in from the void of cyberspace. Just working my way through some technical issues relating to our upcoming album, Cowboy Scat: Songs in the Key of Rick . Getting into the minutiae with our mad science advisor, Mitch Macaphee, who will actually be making the records this time out. Yes, we do have a corporate label - Hegemonic Records and Worm Farm, Inc., a.k.a. Hegephonic Records - but they are kind of a "hands off" outfit (unless you owe them money; then it's another story ... one involving off duty military personnel, typically .... I'll stop there). What all that means is simply this: under our "contract", we make the product from start to finish. We write the songs,

Crock tears.

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Attention, politicians of every stripe. I don't want to hear your expressions of regret over the Aurora massacre. You have no intention of doing anything to stop this bloodletting, so spare me your pious speeches and your pretentious, made-for-television tears. There is no excuse for what happened in Aurora, Colorado last weekend. You can blame that madman for losing his head and killing people, but there is a collective responsibility for the magnitude of the crime. This atrocity goes way beyond what a single armed person should be able to perpetrate through the use of legally obtained weaponry. Perhaps some do not see a difference between 70 people shot and five. There is a difference. Five is bad, unacceptable, and something to be outraged about. Seventy shot - twelve fatally - is beyond outrage, and was only possible through the use of military grade weaponry. If Holmes had been armed only with the type of gun my dad used to carry (loaded) to coin shows on Sundays, perhaps on

Karen Morse: A thank-you note to Aurora

Because in the midst of dark, shocking disregard and cruelty, we were privileged to see such inspiring generosity and caring. It is impossible to imagine those first disorienting moments. Impossible to comprehend how the night had turned upside down and inside out. The smoke clawing. The audible terror of gunfire and screams of pain. The ripping flash of gunfire. The barely seen figure hell-bent on destruction. Yet, in this sensory assault, this mayhem, this perversity, decisions were instantly made based on the utmost kindness. While the gunman was cloaked in all manner of protective gear, people chose to use their bodies to protect others. These people had no Kevlar vests to shield them, but they would fling themselves, their futures, their possibilities, their tomorrows over others to offer them a chance. "Here," they said, "let me use all that I am to protect all that you are. You deserve a chance." Friends stayed at each other's side, offering life-gi