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Showing posts from March 20, 2016

Six or seven. (Eight?)

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Jesus Christ on a bike. I told you this hard drive was full. And now there's smoke emanating from the processor. Can't understand it. It's a 486, isn't it? Sure, hot damn. Fast as one of those new-fangled horseless carriages. Oh, hello. Just grappling with some minor technical difficulties. You know, little stuff like gear that was obsolete in the last century, now over-burdened with production content, bowing deeply under the weight of yet another project, bursting at the seams. Just the kind of thing we're likely to run into here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, Big Green's adopted squat house. Things can always be worse. We could have opted to do something else with this space, like start a church or something, but that doesn't always turn out that well. (See Word of Life Church, Chadwicks, NY ... up the road a piece.) Music it is. Sure, I know ... it's been three years since the release of our last album, Cowboy Scat: Songs in the Key of Rick

Least we can do.

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Matt wrote a song back in the, I don't know, nineties called "Good Intentions" - I'm hoping to re-record it some day. Anyway, one of the lines went like this: That son of a bitch with the backdrop and the gun That son of a bitch with the gun Well, I voted against, yes I voted against, yes I voted against for all the poor creatures of the world Part of the reason why I'm thinking of this is the current Republican standoff over the Supreme Court vacancy ... you know, their war against the U.S. Constitution which they claim so vehemently to revere. It is depressingly predictable that they would pull something like this, of course. Why not? We gave them power, after all; not by voting for them, perhaps, but by failing to vote against them. Matt was being sarcastic, of course, writing about people who think doing very little is doing enough. It certainly isn't, but things like voting are the very least we can do, and they can make a difference. This is how. I