THE BIBLE AND BLACK FRIDAY

EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK OF ST. NICHOLAS

Chapter 7

1. And the two wise men did sayeth to the newcomer: 'third man, how didst thy cometh to be upon this road, late this night, didst thou see and follow the star?' 'No, wise men', spaketh the newcomer, ' I cometh to be here not by any star that thou hast spoken of, but byeth the wayeth of a dream I have had during my nap this very afternoon.' The other two wise men did frown and were skeptical. "But third man, if thou was guided by a vision, how cometh ye to be amongst our progress, this is too much coincidence. Ist thou also a oracle?' 'No', said the stranger, 'but I haveth a sensitive nose, and thy camels hath partaken of too much fiber lately. I did not wish to travel alone and merely followed thy scent.' The first wise man nodded knowingly, 'then I can see thou art a wise man also, as you hath spaken the truth. Pray join us on our journey.'

2. The third wise man nonetheless lookethed troubled. 'Friends, in my dream, I have but seen of what is to come, and it is frightening. Doest thy know of a Friday? Well, as my dream has made me to know, that in times yet to come, it will be known as black.' 'But why?', saideth the first wise man, his camel having again passethed the wind, 'how can a Friday become black? Didst thou partake of too much tahini sauce before napping after lunch?' The third wise man ignored the pong and hangethed his head low. ' I knowest not', he saideth, 'the meaning is lost upon me.'

3. 'My dream', the third wise man did go on, 'was of natural origin, but it's message was unnatural indeed. The journey we three are on will become legend, but it's meaning will falleth into a vast misunderstanding, and our gesture will become an joke - something to do with an exploding cigar'. The other two wise men descended from their beasts and bade the first wise man to continue to relateth his vision of doom. 'Our images', we continued, 'will inspire great folly, as man and woman and child venture forth, in the dead of night, to vast palaces of trade, and will setteth up tents outside these palaces, and hanker to be allowed in, and will gladly giveth up their gold for worldly goods, constructeth in China, of materials yet unknown to us, and they will point to our night's journey, and sayeth that we are to blame.'

4. 'But wise man', saideth the second of the wisest, 'how are we to be blamed, and for what? Are we not guided by the star with a mission of honor and humility?' 'Yes', saideth the third wise man, 'but our humble progress will taketh on a proportion that we shall never be able to understand, let alone accepteth. Thou cannot imagine the scale of it. Tell me, good men, do thou seek the town of Bethlehem to pay visit to a newborn child, and does either of thou happen to be bearing a gift for the one we seek this evening? Well, I got something for him, nicely wrapped it is too, and if thou both hath also brought something , then I fear greatly that mine dream spaketh nothing but the truth.'

5. The other two wise men looked at each other and the first of them spake: 'Well, yes, as a matter of fact we do maketh our way to Bethlehem bearing gifts for the babe, tell me, third wise man, what hast thou got the child? I hope we have not got the same thing. We then would not look all that wise, would we?' 'Pray, tell me what thy has brought first', said the third wise man with a sly smile creeping across his face, 'as I do loveth surprises.'

6. The first wise man then did pull out of his cloak a wrapped parcel. 'Behold, I have purchased the child some socks, as I thought his feet might feeleth the sharp cold of this night.' The second wise man, startled, then drew from beneath his cloak an identical parcel, 'Whoa, for I hath too bought the child socks, as I am sure he hath come upon this world without them.' Then the third wise man did hang his head in dismay. 'Alas, I, too have brought socks for the blessed one we seek. Thus my dream hath become prophesy. We have all bought the same present.'

7. Then the first wise man did sayeth, 'But as we are wise men, we hath bought practical gifts that one must certainly need for the seasonal nature. Yet, we three have all decided identically. How shalt this look? 'Badly', saideth the sorrowful third wise man. 'We must emend this error, lest we look as if we had not given sufficient thought to the gesture.' Then, the second wise man's face took upon it a bright smile. 'Doest thy both recall the roadside market we passed not ten miles previously? And did it not have a sign upon it's closed doors that sayeth it shall become open for a doorbuster special at five of the clock in the morning?' 'Yes, I do recall', saideth the third wise man, 'And doest thy remember the attractive prices advertised?'

8. Thus the three wise men did turn their camels about and headed the ten miles backwards. It was only eleven of the clock in the evening and they had plenty of time to set up camp outside the market and waiteth for the the doors to open at five A.M. Then, having exchanged the socks for new presents, they then could proceed to follow the star back to their intended destination and present the newborn with three different gifts. As they turned their mounts around, the third wise man saideth, 'Alas, mine depressing dream hath now fullfilled it's ring of truth, but it is better that we offer up unique gifts, more attractive than socks, lest we look like asses riding on the backs of camels.'

Thanks to Rev. Jerry Lee Swigger for the scholarly research.

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WAR DECLARED AT THEME TIME

Dear Readers,

Bob came up with a pretty explosive theme this week: War. For once,"Night Time in The Big City" became "Fight Time in The Big City" as Dylan found a 'conflicting' mix of tunes. March along to tracks like "Fightin' In The War With Spain" and "The Band Played Waltzing Matilda" for bummer reminders of the folly of conflict. Also included are some songs that weren't exactly 'number one with a bullet', but recall the greatness of somewhat forgotten artists like Joe Tex, The Bailes Brothers and Wilmer Watts & The Lonely Eagles.
What a blast it was to hear again Bob Marley & The Wailers doing 'Buffalo Soldiers' with Dylan filling in the song's backstory. Tom Waits nails the despair of the young soldier in Day After Tomorrow' and the great Freida Payne gives us 'Bring The Boys Back Home', a song that has clearly come back into fashion. Another track from (I kid you not) a rock 'n roll version of 'Othello' has Jerry Lee Lewis musically demanding to 'Let A Soldier Drink'. What must 'The Killer' have looked like in doublet and hose?
Bob keeps up the attack for over 90 minutes (as opposed to the usual 60) but brings the show to a successful outcome with Los Lobos' 'Peace'. Interestingly, he shows considerable modesty by leaving out 'Masters Of War' and 'Talking World War III Blues', but displays his wicked sense of humor by adding in 'The Cold War With You' by Floyd Tillman (Whaaat?).

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RADIO, RADIO

Dear Readers,
Call me old fashioned, but I've always been fascinated with the radio. With so many more listening options these days, the free airwaves still thrive, and like a maiden aunt who you can borrow a twenty off of now and again, we appreciate it being around without having to make a big fuss about it. Yet I am finding it harder and harder to find stuff on the radio that I can actually stand to listen to. The irony of ironies.
Morning radio especially is an American national embarrassment - that is, if embarrassment was still possible in the age of Bush, Bailouts and Britney. I concede that people need to hear something 'peppy' to make bearable the solo, 100-mile auto trip to work each morning, but listening to the juvenile antics of otherwise grown people is disheartening, to say the least. NPR (No Point Radio) at least offers a serious alternative, but they are losing listeners daily, bored into narcoleptic one-car wrecks by the drone of the adenoidal hosts and the endless 'audio reports' about local village water-treatment awareness days in Bolivia. See that Volvo suddenly veering into a guardrail? That's another NPR listener down the drain.
But surely there must be a middle way between programs hosted by the class a**hole and the class nerd. 'Morning Zoo Crew'-type shows are the hardest to listen to. They usually consist of a mouthy duo who crack each other (and their witless sidekicks) up with crude and unfunny comments, make ham-handed prank calls and create lame song parodies. The French seem funny after 5 minutes of listening to that. To hear human beings reduced to hooting, slathering, leering idiotic jerks makes me want to belong to another species altogether.
And it's not so-called 'bad words' or 'taboo topics' that I'm against, either. In fact, I believe there should be no censorship at all (well, maybe I'd ban one topic - any mention, joke, report, speculation or comment by or about the current Governor of Alaska. She's so October!). But using 'off-color' humor on the radio is an art that should only be practiced by a select few, and not allowed for the pond life that dominates morning drive-time.
I used to be a big fan of Howard Stern before he deserted free radio. The fun of his show was testing the limits of what could be said and done over the airwaves, and the frisson of listening to him as he neared the electrified wire of the censor's bleep. I don't know what he does over at Sirius Radio, but I hope he hasn't descended to all-in smut, just because he can. Stern revealed how unique he was by the way he used bawdy humor on the radio to get us to use our minds and free our senses. But the 'morning crews' that pollute radio these days makes the fart the intellectual pinnacle of comedy. What they offer up as free-form, no-holds-barred spontaneous radio is actually a dumb-headed formula. Plus, they are way too loud. And ignorant.
Speaking of loud and ignorant, the other loathsome species on radio is the Right Wing Talkshow Host. These personalities pollute bandwidth from coast to coast with commentary that borders on the insane. I admit that I used to occasionally listen to some of them because - give them credit - it's truly stunning how they can gas on for 2 or 3 hours without even so much as one "err..." or "umm..." or "like". Rich, bloated misanthropes like Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity are the worst (or the best, at least at what they do). Yet they reap the rewards of their success not by making people better informed or smarter, but by making them dumber. An underused mind can easily be persuaded by unchallenged argument. Neither host brooks any dissent, and reverts to schoolyard insults when thoughtfully challenged. Therefore, listeners softened up by the inanities in the morning are prime victims for the the fact-free simplicities of the Hannitys in the afternoon. And while the talk show titans live insulated lives of disaster-proof splendor, we get corporate misfeasance and Iraq, wrapped up in a leak-proof American flag. As for the various musical formats that are offered up, they are like your local McDonald's - pretty much the same no matter where you live, and about as nourishing.
Lately, I've been reduced to listening to Bloomberg Radio - especially in these days of financial guacamole. It's interesting to hear all these experts dispassionately report and discuss the machinations of our economy like they're describing the goings on in an ant farm. It gives you sad perspective on how the corporatization and homogenization of radio exercises such deadening control over the American mind.
So am I saying 'don't listen'? Not exactly. Radio - like all corporate media - needs advertising dollars to survive as it is. What if, when you get called by one of the radio ratings surveys, you told them you were listening to the voice of the man inside your head instead of the usual stations? Maybe, after a few months of these responses, programmers would begin to experiment again, trying new things to attempt to find out what all us crazy people really wanted to hear. And maybe, we'd really listen.
I was tuned to BBC Radio 3(on my compooter) as I typed this, which put me in mind of old blighty, and the sight of a stained and battered kettle. Warm up the teapot, Mum, (loose, not bags) because right here it's 4 o'clock and time for some tea.

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IT'S OFFICIAL: LENNON IN HEAVEN

Dear Readers,
Just in case you haven't heard yet, The Vatican has announced that they have forgiven dead ex-living person, John Lennon, for his 1966 remarks about The Beatles being more popular than Jesus. This can only mean that our John has been released from his stay in Hell that has lasted almost 28 years and has quickly been re-assigned to Heaven. Lennon could not be reached for comment but we presume he is well pleased with the new arrangement, as it's hoped that he will now have access to at least one musical instrument, the Harp.
It's not known who originated the idea to forgive, but my sources tell me that Pope 'Eggs' Benedict is a huge Beatle fan and has been following their career since he first saw them in Hamburg in 1961. People close to the situation say that the Pontiff wanted to add a rider to the forgiveness document that would also absolve the group for breaking up in 1970, but that would have caused further discussion and delay and he was keen to get Lennon out of Hell ASAP.
It's believed that this edict will pave the way for further forgiveness orders that are said to be pending for Marilyn Manson, Sinead O'Connor and The Jonas Brothers, but it's certain that they will all have to die first and spend some time in Hades before any official statement can be issued.
Anyway, enjoy the new wings, and 'Imagine there's no Heaven' no longer, Mr. L!

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GUNFIGHT IN DEALEY PLAZA

A Tale Of Fantasy
The big Presidential limousine began to ponderously navigate the sharp turn onto Elm Street towards Dealey Plaza, and from the back seat, John F. Kennedy gave a slight wave to the 25 or so people gathered at the corner. "You can't say Dallas thinks you're a piece of communist crap now, can you Jack", said Marilyn Monroe, also waving at the throng from her spot next to the President. "Yes I can" said JFK , testily, "I know they're really all out to get me." Texas Governor John Connally and his wife, Nellie, sitting in the jump seat in front of the much-more-famous couple, ignored both the remark and the riposte. It had been a long day and they were both tired of Jack and Marilyn, and wished they'd been able to ride in the parade with Vice President Johnson instead.

Standing near the curb, right-wing crackpot Joseph Milteer took his Remington .303 rifle out of his golf bag and aimed at the President. He was fed up with the liberal Kennedys, and finally, here was his chance to do something about it. As the car completed the turn onto Elm, Milteer fired. The shot whizzed past Kennedy's head and lodged in a sapling just to the left of the triple overpass, 500 yards away. JFK turned to his right and saw Milteer beginning to take aim for a second try. The President quickly reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his trusty .357 Magnum, loaded and ready. He squeezed off three quick shots before Milteer could steady his aim. All three rounds struck the aging rightest square in the chest, and he fell limply to the sidewalk. Marilyn cooed "great shooting, Jack, what a President you are!" John and Nellie Connally, at first alarmed by the shots, instead slid quietly to the floor of the limousine, disappointed that Milteer had missed. But they knew there was more to come.

Just behind a tree to the right of the Presidential car as it sped down Elm at 5 miles an hour, Sam Giancana reached into the pant waist of his sharkskin suit and pulled out his revolver. Drawing a bead on the President, he pulled the trigger of the .38 snub nose, but nothing happened. It had misfired. Kennedy, who was still holding his smoldering Magnum, caught a glimpse of Giancana and refocused his aim on the Mafia chieftain and squeezed off a single round. Giancana disappeared in a red haze. Marilyn looked at Jack and said "I used to know him, he was such a nice man. I wonder what made him want to be so mean?" Jack scowled at her and replied, "I should have had Bobby deport him to Cuber with all the rest of those ungrateful rats. Sinatra didn't know the half of it." JFK ordered the limo to a halt and scanned the plaza, looking for more.

A little farther up Elm, businessman Abraham Zapruder was standing on a grassy knoll in Dealey Plaza filming the parade as it approached his position. Seeing Kennedy kill two people in a matter of seconds, he screamed "He's going to kill them all", over and over while still keeping his super-8 camera trained on the carnage. Lying on the ground behind him, E. Howard Hunt of the CIA, had tracked the President's car through the iron sight of his Browning semi-automatic rifle, poking from between Zapruder's shoes. As Kennedy casually blew smoke from the barrel of his .357, Hunt fired. The shot lifted a wisp of blonde hair from Marilyn's coiffure, continued past the car and into a crowd watching the motorcade, killing amateur photographers Mary Moorman and Jean Hill instantly, Hill's just-taken Polaroid photo of the President brandishing his pistol was still grasped in her lifeless hand. It wasn't even dry yet. Hunt's shot had missed it's target because Kennedy had been reaching under his seat for the loaded AK-47 Premier Kruschev had given him as a birthday gift. The President trained and rapid-fired his new weapon in the direction of the prone Hunt, but hit Zapruder instead, sending the hapless filmmaker to the ground. Once he was out of the way, JFK had a clear shot at the panicking Hunt and dispatched him with a sustained burst of fire. "Come On, you bahstards, are there any more of you?", shouted the Commander-In-Chief as he reloaded.

There were. Behind a stockade fence at the back of the grassy knoll, three Cubans with beards and cigars were all aiming US Army surplus M-16's at Kennedy, who was now standing on the top of the back seat triumphantly pointing his weapon skyward, firing off celebratory shots. The President was now an easy target for Castro's men. With military precision, they all fired simultaneously. One bullet grazed the elbow of JFK's suit coat, opening up a quarter-inch tear in the fabric, but the others went wide. Looking in the direction of the fusillade, he yelled at the top of his lungs "Hey! do you know how much this suit cost, you Commies?" Kennedy looked down at Marilyn, re-arranging her hair in a compact mirror, and cried "give me a hand grenade sweethaht, there's one in the map pocket in front of my seat!" When she found it, she looked up and giggled "Is this it? This thing that looks like a little pineapple?", and handed it to him. Kennedy - the AK-47 in one hand and the grenade in the other - pulled the pin out with his teeth and threw it over the fence in among the re-aiming Cubans. The explosion not only disintegrated the trio, but killed five other armed men in the parking lot behind the fence, apparently awaiting their turn at the President. A toothy grin slowly spread across Kennedy's face as he watched the bodies fly up in the air.

Meanwhile, in a window on the sixth floor of the Texas School Book Suppository, just off Dealey Plaza, order clerk Lee Oswald was all alone, munching on a baloney sandwich and watching with horror the carnage unfolding before his eyes. "This has got to stop", he thought to himself. Propped up against the wall next to the window, wrapped up in a blanket, was an old rifle that he had brought to work with him that day and was planning to swap with a co-worker for some new curtain rods. Oswald wondered if maybe he could do something to bring an end to this violent situation. He put aside his sandwich and carefully unwrapped the blanket from around the rifle and checked to see if it was still loaded...

-Anonymous

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THEME TIME LATEST -"BLOOD"

Dear Readers,
Here's the latest graphic I made for Theme Time Radio Hour With Bob Dylan. The subject (November 12) was Blood. Bob's done it again, digging out a great collection of tunes that are definitely thicker than water. No thin sangre here, no sir. If for nothing else, hearing Jerry Lee Lewis singing a tune with lyrics by Shakespeare is worth the price of admission to this iron-rich hour, not to mention one of the best blues songs I've ever heard - Bloodstains On The Wall, by Honeyboy. Plus, recall the days when top 40 music was occasionally fun by digging on Transfusion by Nervous Norvus. Just an outstanding show that includes Bob's Bloody Mary recipe. A bloody good hour of radio, Mr. D!

Go to http://croz.fm/ and follow links till you get to it.

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WHEEZE FROM "THE GEEZE"

Born in the 19th century, still writing and commenting in the 21st, guest columnist Harry L. Geeseberger offers his sage wisdom as he squints at the issues of the day. Yes, dear readers, It's another "Wheeze From The Geeze".

Hello to all telegraph operators and ships at sea!

It's come to my attention that our new President Obama is going to be denied blackberries while serving in the White House...I happen to love blackberries and am sorry the President will miss out on them for the next few years...so tasty they are when they're fresh-picked... Shame!

What's all this balderdash I see on my old DuMont these days...a lizard selling car insurance? I think Geico is going up the wrong alley here...what happens when you have an accident?...Do you file your claim with a cockroach?... That's stuff we used to catch and play with when I was a kid.

I can't believe General Motors is going broke... it's the world's biggest company, but why in the world are they burning a billion dollars a month?...Isn't that illegal?... seems a wasteful practice...must make some blaze...But you know, they haven't been the same since the Corvair fiasco...I bought my Impala new in 1958 and never looked back, I can tell you.

This young gal actress, Nicole Kidman, I think she's had a nose job... I saw a video of "The Hours" just the other day - you know, the one where she plays Virginia Woolf?... Well, the nose she has today is an awful lot smaller than it was in that film...these Hollywood types - never satisfied!

I got a letter from my daughter Mabel the other day...it was in a nice linen wove envelope with very nice postage stamp on it...but she likes to keep up with the times... so she went and left all the vowels out of the words and sometimes used numbers for letters...can't make out a damn thing on it!...Kids today!

Have to laugh about all this faff concerning this so-called financial crisis - banks and investment firms going under and all that...I went to my local bank the other day to pay my electricity bill and withdraw twenty dollars - no problem!...Even picked up a pocket calendar for next year... Easy! I kid you not.

My great-grandson got me a cell phone for my birthday recently... I don't see the point...it's so damn small and the cord that came with it is about two-and-a-half feet long...Plus, every time I try and call someone a flash goes off...my granddaughter pushed a few buttons on it for me the other day and showed me 79 pictures of my ear...Honestly, useless!

I'll tell you a story...I was having dinner at my granddaughter's one evening and they ordered in some sushi...raw, uncooked fish...I just pretended to eat but was secretly putting my raw fish bits into an old soup can I had under my chair and just ate the rice...next day, I took my great-grandson fishing and used the sushi I saved for bait...eventually, I caught a 4-and-a-half pound trout with it and took it home and gave it to my granddaughter...so she cleans it and cooks it!...I just don't understand.

Until next time, my friends. Tell 'em kilroy was here!

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THERE'S GONNA BE HILL TO PAY

Dear Readers,


If memory serves, it was Jennifer Aniston who said " keep your friends close, but keep your enemies in a cabinet or something...err...whatever..." - sound advice from a TV star. Now, it seems, President Obama is considering taking that advice by naming his former rival for the Democratic nomination, Hillary Rodman Clinton, as his Secretary of State in the new administration.
Sounds like a reasonable move, right? Hardly anyone else is as well-known around the globe as Mrs. Clinton and it could be a smooth move to placate her "pantsuit brigade" who Obama has not yet quite won over. While I think she'd do an OK job, she would come into office with a pretty toxic asset - her husband, Bill Clinton.
The 42nd President's reputation took a nosedive during the recent campaign because of his belligerent campaigning style and whispers of shady dealings concerning some of his pet projects, like The William B.J. Clinton Presidential Lieberry & Cigar Parlor.
Contributions from shady zillionaires with dubious international reputations, suspected illegal arms merchants and Michael Jackson impersonators have cast a cloud on the project that would not only house his personal papers, White House files and discarded interns, but would provide an awesome hangout for him and his aging, juvenile, high-flying buddies. How can Hillary do secretary-of-stating with such distractions? Also, Bill's activities during the primary season certainly brought no benefit to her historic campaign. Shenanigans like beating to a pulp reporters asking fluff questions, keying opponents' campaign buses and chronically parking his party-sized stretch limo in handicapped spaces paled in comparison to his infamous leaping up on to the stage at a debate in New Hampshire and placing John Edwards in a painful headlock after a sharp exchange of views with Hillary. How would such antics go down in, say, The Middle East? Whether or not she gets the job, I think she needs to get away from Bill anyway. He's like a spent booster rocket and needs to be jettisoned now that the payload has achieved orbit.
Hillary has baggage, too. During her Presidential campaign, she raised One Trillion Dollars in contributions, yet ended her quest nearly $50,000,000,000 in debt. She showed no knack for management and went through money like a drunken sailor (or a sober Wall Street tycoon) on liberty in Shanghai. She spent it like water - in fact, she spent an incredible $360 million ON water! (The Poland Springs plant in Bangor, Maine was on three shifts from July, 2007 through June, 2008 just to supply her account). The stories of other excesses are the stuff of legend, like color co-ordinated pantsuits with real strings of pearls bought new every day for each of the 105,000 women and men on her staff (it makes Sarah Palin's measly $150,000 department store raid look like a quick trip to Family Dollar). This buying spree was finally brought to a halt in late April by cash flow and credit problems and by chief aide Harold Ickes' absolute refusal to wear mis-matched earrings and pumps. Then there was the disastrous scheme of giving $1,500,000 New York City apartments to contributors who donated up to the legal maximum limit of $2,300. It's fortunate for this country that Mr. Obama is not considering her for Treasury Secretary.
The upside is that Mrs. Clinton is a known quantity and her husband's squalid doings are really not surprising anymore. Also, the two of them would suck up an awful lot of tabloid ink that might be used to investigate other cabinet members. Team Obama has asked all prospective cabinet members to fill out a 63-question disclosure form in order to expose any potential vulnerabilities or scandals that might damage the image of the new administration. I hear that the Clintons have been provided with a special form that has 2,845 questions - plus an essay - which considering how complicated their affairs are, should take about four years to fill out. Smart guy, Obama.
Even in Washington, D.C., the laws of physics apply and the kettle at Foggy Bottom should be reaching boiling point right about now. Because somewhere, it's 4 o'clock, and time for some tea.

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QUIZ MIXUP - AN APOLOGY

Dear Readers,
It has come to my attention that last Thursday's post, called Best Beatle Trivia Quiz, had a slew of incorrect information. Now, All I've Got To Do is to make good this mistake by either giving the test over again or admit that I was a Bad Boy. I Should Have Known Better than to create a quiz about The Beatles, as never In My Life have I created one before. If you Ask Me Why I did it, I don't know, because sometimes, blogging - well, It's All Too Much. So get your pencils ready again, 'cause here are the correct answers:

1. Yes, but only on alternate Tuesdays, with a repaired Lutheran.
2. It was a maraca, not what her cousin said it was.
3. In 1966, surrounded by John Glenn, 5 pairs of antlers and little regard.
4. The trouser press, not the Savoy Theatre, landed in the silo full of custard.
5. The cost was $875 worth of mufflers and hidden in a group of choristers.
6. It fell three stories and became the year's must-have butter.
7. Judy Garland, but only the top half.
8. They all thought it was real, but only when their hats were on.
9. Hardly. After Luxembourg?
10. The police and his grandmother, but some thought it was purple.

Getting Better for you? I made sure to check Every Little Thing this time, so Don't Bother Me any longer about it. I can honestly say that I Feel Fine about this palliative post and is it all worthwhile? Yes It Is.

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LATEST THEME TIME DESIGN

Dear Readers,
Just wanted to show you my latest CD case design for my 'Theme Time Radio Hour' series. It was a bit tricky, this theme, but I decided on the old acorn-oak-toothpick wheeze. (I gave ol' Bob a toothpick, for those with lo-res screens) It was another great show. TTRH is the one radio show I would take to a desert island, if I was going to one, which I'm not.
If you're feeling a bit low, please omit listening to Richard Thompson's The End Of The Rainbow'. It's so gloomy, it makes Eve Of Destruction sound like a song from PBS' 'Barney'. Even with the hokey humor and fake fone calls, Bob's show is @#$%! brilliant.

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CHARLIE DON'T SURF

Dear Readers,

Today is the 60th birthday of British King-In-Waiting, Prince Charles. The Prince is in the unenviable position of needing a close relative - namely, his Mother - to die before getting a job. And at sixty, he's getting a bit old to be a first-time King.

At 82, Queen Elizabeth II is showing no signs of slowing down. Her busy public schedule of opening shopping centers and looking at other people at work is augmented by her leisure pursuits, like bingo and running over peasants in her Range Rover. Still hale and hearty, she regularly beats Charles in their weekly handball match.

While he waits, the Prince must sometimes look back at a life of frustrations and missed opportunities. But whatever you say about him, he's a survivor. The challenges began almost as soon as he was conceived. The Queen, far too busy with her Royal appointment book, had the fertilized egg which would eventually become her eldest son transferred to one of her ladies-in-waiting for gestation. For the first year of his life, Charles never saw his parents due to their constant touring and had to be suckled by one of the family's Corgis. As a toddler, he began to explore his palatial home, Buckingham Palace, and soon, he became lost and was not seen by anyone for nearly two years. He wandered through the 4,276 rooms of the Palace un-missed and unnoticed, surviving on a diet of wallpaper paste and lead paint chips.

As a boy, his father, Prince Philip, thought he needed some 'toughening up'(as he put it) and had the 5-year old heir parachuted from an RAF jet fighter onto the ice at McMurdo Sound, Antarctica, and told to find his own way back home. Finally reaching London again in 1960, he was immediately packed off to a boarding school in Tasmania, well-known for it's cruelty to humans.

Graduating in 1969 with qualifications in science, mathematics and cannibalism, he returned to the United Kingdom well prepared to take up his non-duties as Prince Of Wales. But even then, he was to be denied. The Queen, who hadn't seen Charles in years, mistakenly crowned comedian Benny Hill as Prince at the investiture ceremony at Caernarvon Castle in Wales. Hill officially held onto the post until his death in 1992, when the mistake was corrected and Charles resumed his rightful place in the line of succession.

Once he achieved adulthood, the Prince was one of the most eligible bachelors in the world along with Prince Albert of Monaco, Truman Capote and pop star, Prince. In the end, Charles chose to marry Princess Diana, who charmed him by blowing chunks all over his ceremonial uniform at their first meeting. Their marriage at St.Paul's Cathedral was seen by hundreds all over the world and featured Elton John singing a very creepy version of Candle In The Wind at the couple's reception at the Dog And Duck pub in Bermondsey. It wasn't a successful marriage, but did produce two sons, Ronnie and Reg, (who looked remarkably like the postman). People claimed that Charles was cold and uncaring to his bride, but after Diana's death in a Paris car crash, Charles immediately flew to France and made arrangements to have her wrecked BMW fully repaired and restored. His equerry still drives it to this day.

Alone again, the Prince set out to look for a new wife. He is thought to have wooed a very long list of women, including Margaret Thatcher, Barbara Bush, Mother Teresa and Dame Edna Everage, but found them either unavailable or uninterested. Desperate, he found a loophole in British common law that allowed the Prince to have an old drinking buddy of his, Freddy Parker-Bowels, drawn, quartered and hung. Charles then immediately married the widow, Carmella.

Today, The Prince is said to be at peace with the world, while not quite up on it. For example, as a Royal, you have all kinds of people to do things for you, like shopping, going to the toilet and answering telephones. As a result, Charles knows very little about technology in the 21st century. One of his main problems is that he mixes up cell phones and television sets. He is frequently seen at gala balls carrying a 42" LG flat-screen TV, complaining to anyone in earshot what a nuisance having a mobile phone is. Don't even ask about computers or the Internet.

But his worst dilemma still remains the succession. He desperately wants to be King and to finally fulfill his destiny. Time is running out for Charles to be enthroned while still continent, but the Queen is said to have promised him she will die just as soon as she can.

Well, even at the Palace, they must take time from their busy schedules for a brew-up, and I think I can hear all 1,327 Royal timepieces sounding 4 o'clock, and teatime!

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BEST BEATLE TRIVIA QUIZ

Dear Readers,

Let's have a little BEATLE fun. Test your fab four knowledge in this challenging quiz and I've Got A Feeling you'll enjoy yourself. At first, I had to do the quiz With A Little Help From My Friends, but that's OK, Because - All Together Now - we can always use some Help when we can't remember Something we ought to know. I'm sure together, We Can Work It Out. So pencils at the ready and Why Don't We Do It In The Road, Eleanor Rigby!

1. What famous singer-songwriter wrote the group's first number one single, Last Train To Clarksville? (A) Ludwig Van Beethoven (B) Rudy Vallee (C) Neil Diamond (D) Neil Armstrong

2. Which member of the group was a child actor and starred in his own TV series about a Circus Boy? (A) Mike Nesmith (B) Mickey Dolenz (C) Davy Jones (D) Peter Tork

3. One member of the group, Mike Nesmith, always wore a wool hat - it became his trademark. Why? (A) He was bald (B) He was always cold (C) He was hiding a third eye (D) It prevented him from hearing the voices in his head

4. What famous film director got their start directing the group's first feature-length film, Head, which has become a cult classic? (A) Cecil B. DeMille (B) Thomas Edison (C) Ed Wood (D) Leni Riefenstahl

5. The group did not play musical instruments on their first three albums. Who was the real drummer on those records? (A) Ringo Starr (B) Zippy The Chimp (C) Pete Best (D) The Salvation Army

6. When their TV series made it's debut on NBC in 1966, what show did it replace? (A) The Vietnam War (B) The Huntley-Brinkley Report (C) Dr. Bloch, Vivisectionist (D) The test pattern

7. If you play I'm A Believer backwards, what can you hear Peter Tork saying? (A) 'Davy Jones is a no-talent bum' (B) 'Mike Nesmith is a stuck-up creep' (C) 'Mickey Dolenz is a cross-dressing nudist' (D) 'Why on earth did I sign this contract?'

8. Speaking of contracts, the group became famous for the spectacularly unfair deal forced on them by NBC. What was it's most outrageous clause? (A) All their first-born children became property of Red Skelton (B) NBC could donate their bodies to science while they were still alive (C) The group could be used on executive hunting trips for target practice (D) They had to forfeit their studio parking places to extras from Star Trek

9. On their last album, the group were finally allowed to play one instrument. What did they choose? (A) Air Guitar (B) Radio (C) Jackie Gleason's Stomach (D) Whoopie Cushion

10. When their TV show was cancelled in 1968, what program replaced it? (A) The Vietnam War (B) The Huntley-Brinkley Report (C) Dr. Bloch, Vivisectionist (D) The test pattern

Well, that's it, Beatlemaniacks! Did you get them all right? Well This Boy won't make you Wait any longer - I'll put you out of your Misery. The correct answer to all questions is...ooh, I Want To Tell You...but, no. Just call me Mean Mr. Mustard.

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OMMMM....

Dear Readers,
Not much to say today except to accept what is all around you and to appreciate that you have a ringside seat to the greatest show in the universe - life on earth. Ommmmm....

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WE BUILT THIS CITY ON ROCK 'N ROLL

Dear Readers,

I can still recall when rock and roll was the coolest form of music. Rock bands put out the best songs, performed the greatest concerts and had the image of rebels outside the 'system'. Theirs was the lifestyle we all wanted - a freewheeling alternative to the straight, corporate world, unconcerned with anything except the music.
But my illusions have been shattered. I recently read of the delay in construction of the U2 building in Dublin, Scotland. The U2 what? Yes, dear readers, the Scottish band, U2 was actually planning to build a skyscraper in the heart of Dublin, complete with office space, luxury condos and capped off with a glass-enclosed recording studio for the exclusive use of the tiresomely preachy band. It would have been the tallest building in the world.
It's delay has something to do with this world financial crisis thing, but what hit me was the fact that it was even considered. Can you imagine paying rent to your landlord - lead singer and world saviour Bongo? How about calling upstairs to get guitar player The Ledge to come unblock your sink? The mind boggles. I thought rock and roll operated outside the regular world. I guess I was way wrong.
If you think about it, rock stars weren't supposed to live past the age of 27 anyway. A quick list of rockers who checked out at that point in their lives is impressive - Jimi Hendrix, Janice Joplin, Kurt Cobrain, Brian Jones, Jim Morrison and Robert Goulet to name but four.
Even poor Elvis Presley, in a sad act of remorse over his bloated lifestyle, had his birth certificate altered two days before he fell off his gold-plated toilet and into rock heaven - yes, at a mere 27 years young. Today - at least - Presley Towers is nobody's address.
Once rock gods survived to the age of 28, they changed. Those who still had some money left after being ripped off by managers, concert promoters, record executives, accountants, bogus charities, religions, girlfriends, wives and relatives, suddenly wanted to buy some security. But having conquered the music world, where was there left to go? Big Business was the answer.
It was Pete Townhouse who wrote ' Hope I die before I get old' but is Pete dead? Nope. It was his Who bandmates Keith Moonpie and John Entwissel who got Pete's wish. Today - in between farewell tours - Townhouse continues to build multi-story parking garages all across Europe, taking scant notice of the cultural damage he's doing. His next project is a 2,200-space pay-and-display garage in Rome - on the site of the 2,000 year-old Coliseum, which is scheduled for demolition in February. My Generation indeed!
Other examples abound. When some years ago, David Bowie sold his music catalog as stock shares, I figured it was probably a pretty good idea. I'm now horrified to learn that as part of the deal, Bowie was named Chairman of The World Bank! That's a lot of responsibility to give to a man who used to dye his hair fuchsia. Is there Life On Mars? Keef Richards may look like a half-dead junkie but the Rolling Stone Magazine guitarist is a major player in a vital world commodity - rubber. Wild Horses couldn't drag him away from that gig. Robert PotPlant of the aged metal band, Lid Zeppelin can't be bothered to reunite for a tour with his old mates because he prefers to remain at the helm of his check cashing franchise which now boasts over 1,700 branches in 12 states. Dazed And Confused? I think not. Seen Aerosmith lately? No, because canyon-mouthed singer Steven Tyler is too busy gaining government contracts for his fancy heating and cooling empire. Missing rock and roll, Steve-o? Dream On.
I can't blame 'legacy' acts for their mainstream mass migration, after all a quick glance at the top 40 these days reveals not a trace of rock and roll. The ride is over. Music giants of today, like P-Diddley (or whatever his name is this year) and Ciley Myrus leave no doubt as to why they're in it - purely for the money. I'm just crestfallen that the free-spirited heroes of my childhoods would rather have their names on cornerstones instead of where they really belong - on tombstones.
If you listen closely to track 4 on Fink Ployd's LP One Of These Days I'm Going To Be A Chief Financial Officer, I swear you can hear a kettle boiling at about 3:06 into the song. No Lie. It always makes me think it must have been recorded about 4 o'clock, where worldwide, it was time for tea.

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OBAMA JOKES ? YES WE CAN !

Dear Readers,
Not soon enough, we'll be saying a bittersweet farewell to a pair of politicians that provided the nation's comedic talent with unlimited fodder. Yes, W. George Bush and Dick H. Cheney will be exiting the national scene - at last. But our gain will be comedy's loss and while the greater good will be served by getting shot of such toxic characters, jokesters from California to Nevada will feel the pain of separation.
Already, we hear that President-To-Be Obama offers nothing in the way of funny to those who sacrifice themselves to keep the nation's ribs tickled. Well, I disagree. I myself - no great laugh-machine - came up with over 200 Obama jokes in less than thirty seconds! Jesters, get ready to cut-and-paste, 'cause here are some of the best:

Obama: John, what's amnesia?
McCain: I forget.

Obama: Knock, Knock.
Putin: Who is there, plizz?
Obama: Justin.
Putin: Justin who, plizz?
Obama: Justin time for a summit!

Senator Byrd: Out of all the animals, why is the rabbit the coolest?
Obama: Because it can hip hop.

Hillary: How long did the iron age last?
Obama: Until they invented permanent press!

Bill Clinton: Hey Barack, why did the golfer change his socks?
Obama: He had a hole in one!

Obama: Knock, Knock.
Dr. Phil: Who's there?
Obama: Ya.
Dr. Phil: Ya who?
Obama: Hey, what's all the cheering about?

Biden: What's a gardener's favorite dessert?
Obama: Pie a la mowed !

Nancy Pelosi: Have you found the Abominable Snowman?
Obama: Not yeti !

Gordon Brown: Hey, mate! How does a British Policeman keep his badge on?
Obama: With a bobby pin !

Arianna Huffington: I've got to get rid of this palm tree!
Obama: Okay, but be sure to give it a frond farewell !

See? That wasn't so hard, was it? I think the comedians of America will be all right now. Keep 'Em Laughing!

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THE SUNDAY SHORT STORY # 2

TWENTY PIE AFFAIR

by Lars F.X. Higginston

The timer on the small shelf above the oven pinged, signalling that the last of the pies were done baking. John put on his oven mitt and opened the oven door, extracted the tray and placed it on a cooling rack. Susan looked on approvingly. "We've done it, John, thank you so much !" John smiled, glad that Susan's first visit to his apartment in three years had gone so well. She had only recently renewed contact with him after the messy end to their relationship, one that began at the office and ended in tears. In spite of misgivings, John had accepted her offer of renewed friendship and was happy to lend a hand to Susan's charity bake sale. They had worked all day and had produced twenty perfect pies of all kinds. "Just like the old days, eh Sue?"

John was referring to how, years ago, they had spent so many fall and winter evenings in each others' kitchens, methodically cooking their way through recipe books. They seemed so content, that is, until Donald Laurence had been hired by the firm where they both worked. Donald and Susan seemed drawn to each other almost immediately and John soon came to realize he was losing her. Within eight months of his first appearance on the scene, Donald and Susan were married. The awkwardness in the office between the three was obvious to all, and shortly thereafter, John found another job.

Now she was back in his life and the liking for one another had survived the painful break, so John was pleased to offer Susan his help on this mild November Sunday, a warm reminder of days past. Besides, he loved baking - alone, or with someone else. John had never married, but was content with an affair with a woman from Louisville, Sharon, whom he had met at a conference. Sharon was married, but enjoyed the contrast John offered to her strict and controlling brute of a husband, who seemed ignorant he was a cuckold. John and Sharon would meet occasionally - maybe twice a month as schedules allowed. It was enough.

Susan gazed happily at the twenty pies on the kitchen table, then smiled adoringly at John. She went over to where he was sitting and carefully sat on his lap. "Yes, just like the old days", she said as she put her arms around his neck. "Just like the old days..." Susan's kiss sent a shock wave through John's body like a warm but fast-moving tsunami. Their mouths were together for what seemed like minutes before he broke away and said "we'd better get those pies packed up and in to your car".

Later that evening, John looked at his watch, it was about midnight. Crouched outside Donald and Susan's sprawling ranch-style home, he was glad the night was quiet and overcast and that he could not be seen by anyone - not that there was anyone about in such an isolated cul-de-sac. From Susan's visit earlier in the day, John had learned that Donald was returning late from a road trip and should be arriving any moment now. Even through the latex glove on his right hand, he could feel the grain of the sturdy wooden table leg he had picked out of a trash can. He gave it a reassuring squeeze as he watched Donald's BMW pull into the driveway. John's body tensed as he saw Donald wearily get out of the car, open the trunk and remove a suitcase. Raising his body into a half crouch, John prepared himself to spring from his hiding place behind the box hedge and assault the man who had made such a mess of his world. But he froze in place as he watched Donald pull out his key, unlock the front door and disappear inside. He couldn't do it. The chance had passed. Dejectedly retracing the steps of his secret shortcut back home, he discarded the heavy table leg on a pile of junk a few yards from the railroad viaduct he had passed under only hours before. He thought about Susan for the last time.

As the table leg came crashing down on the back of John's skull, it made more of a noise than Stan had expected. Without even checking if another blow was needed, he crouched and scanned the dark horizons all around the underpass. Nothing. Stan rose up and prodded the inert body with the toe of his shoe. Nothing. John had died instantly. Looking all around him again, Stan carefully placed the discarded table leg that he had picked off a junk pile only moments before inside a large, rusty steel barrel just next to the little-used viaduct. Then, he reached in the dead man's back pocket and pulled out his wallet. In it, he found the usual stuff, plus some woman's photograph and $350. "That'll help offset most of my expenses", he said to himself. He then stuffed the money into his pocket and casually tossed the wallet onto the corpse.

On the flight back to Louisville, Stan rehearsed the story he would tell to his wife, Sharon, as to why he was away for two days. It had taken that long to find John's apartment and begin his stake-out. He was losing any hope of extracting his revenge when, on Sunday afternoon, he finally saw him. It was the same man in the picture that had mistakenly fallen out of his wife's purse onto the table at the restaurant. It had been a hard job to get the truth out of Sharon, but she eventually confessed and promised it was all over. Now it was. Recalling the moment he first spotted him, Stan remembered looking at his prey through the binoculars and wondering what in the world was in all those boxes that he was carrying out to that woman's car.

Lars F.X. Higginston is currently serving 25-to-life at the Kentucky State Penitentiary in Frankford.

He works in the prison bakery.

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REAL LIFE SCUPPERS VIRTUAL LIFE

Dear Readers,

I know the theme of this blog is that it's not about me, but I must explain why today's post is so lame. Yesterday afternoon, my water heater blew and flooded my entire basement! Needless to say, I've been bailing and wet-vaccing and tossing out sodden material for about 20 hours. I've only had this water-heater for 35 years, too! Talk about modern-day workmanship! Hrrummph! So I just wanted to explain that I'm not having another attack of writer's block or anything technical like that - in fact, I had some rather juicy material planned for today. Oh well, at least I did have a nice tea break, but now, it's back into my sopping shoes!

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ART TODAY: A SHOW ABOUT NOTHING

Dear Readers,

Recently, the cutting-edge British artist, Damien Hirst, sold a bunch of his works for about five hundred million dollars! Amazing. This, from a guy who gained his fame by putting half a cow in formaldehyde and selling that disgusting thing for a small fortune. And he's so famous now that he doesn't need a dealer or an auction house to flog his stuff for him - he does it all himself, cutting out the middleman and saving on all those commissions.
Since the dawn of time, artists have had the reputation of being notoriously bad businessmen. Take Vincent Van Cough, for instance. There he was, living in a dumpy house in the South of France with no toilet, no running water, no glass in the windows and no cable TV. Plus, he was so broke, he had to share the rent with another financial genius, Paul Gogann. What's wrong with this picture? Here are two famous artists, internationally known, a house stuffed to the rafters with Van Coughs and Goganns and they still had to steal food and use their paints for condiments! Plus, poor Van Cough had to cut off his nose to pay a prostitute! "Here", he said, "take this, it'll be valuable some day", as he handed his proboscis to the girl in his one moment of financial clarity. She threw the nose away, he got sent to an asylum. Who do you think was crazy? It boggles the mind to imagine how much his nose would be worth today, pickled in formaldehyde.
It's not generally known, but many well-known artists throughout history have tried to use their own body parts as currency. By the end of his life, Leonardo DaVino didn't have a toe to his name, Rembrandt, in old age, was down to one lung, one kidney and no belly button and Picasso used to pull his own teeth out to try to pay the bills for his notorious piss-ups at the Lapin Agile. Totally unnecessary maimings, as these bits were also deemed worthless by philistine merchants. If these master artists had only realized what gold mines they had back at home on their easels, what a life they could have had!
No such problems for today's art stars. They know what they've got and have learned well from the sad stories of those who have gone before them. And the worst bit is that few of these artists even make their own works. Do you think Hirst sawed that cow in half himself? Do you think that guy who painted the picture of the Virgin Mary with elephant dung went to India with a pooper-scooper? Give me strength! At least the guy who made the notorious image, Piss Christ, used his own wee, although we only have his word on that. Even then, the picture of Jesus he submerged in a Plexiglas case of urine was bought from Woolworth's.
Still, you have to have at least a grudging admiration for these contemporary artists, after all, they've worked out that art is no longer a romantic pursuit, it's commerce. If in doubt, have a look at Mr. Hirst's estate in the British countryside which makes Buckingham Palace look like an Alabama double-wide. And if people with mega-bucks are willing to shell out fortunes for dead animals, wee-wee and actual poo, just because it comes from one of these brand name superstars of art, then go ahead. My mad money goes to my favorite local artist who I know for a fact does all his own work himself with proper materials bought at a store. Me.
Well, I hear an urgent whistle from the direction of Aix-en-Provence, so it must be near 4 o'clock and temps pour du the.

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THE LATEST ' THEME TIME' CD ART

Dear Readers,
Just thought you might like to see the latest CD cover I did for the 'Theme Time Radio With Your Host Bob Dylan'. I think it was another great show and my home-made design is so adorable. If you would like to download the show, follow this link -http://croz.fm/pages/ttrh.html
All the other Dylan shows are available there, too. They're all great listening -the music is jammin' and Bob's jokes are corny, but fun.

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ELECTION 2008 - DID ANYBODY LOSE?

Dear Readers,

What a relief! Not only is campaign 2008 over (seems like it began in the winter of 1995!), but the nation did the right thing - for a change. Unlike the current occupant of the White House, we'll soon have a President who can not only think and speak with intelligence and agility, but someone we can all be proud of when he talks with foreigners abroad. Just imagine, no more will you see the German fuhrer, Angela Merkel, looking embarrassed after being asked by a US Presdient for the third time if the measles was her country's only contribution to the world - no longer will Canadian Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, have to explain yet again to our leader that Canada is a country, not a state - and no more painful sights of the King of the Britons, Gordon Brown, sadly looking down at his shoes after being told yet another poop joke by the leader of the free world. Let's face it, we not only have a well-spoken and thoughtful president-elect, but the guy is so darn cool.

In any election, there are winners and losers. John McCaine-Mutiny falls into the loser column, of course, but there is an upside for the clueless old pol, he now has some spare time to visit all of the homes he owns across the country, and get an accurate count. Sarah Brightman-Palin can go back home, and in-between slaughtering wild animals, can take a civics 101 course at her local community college, The Wasilla School of Hairdressing & Taxidermy, (I hope they grade on a class curve) as she prepares to take retiring President George Butch's place as the brains of the GOP.

Meanwhile, a clear winner, Joe The Plumber Biden can take up his useless duties as Vice-President, which I hear in the next administration will include sitting on top of the Washington Monument, flashing his ultra-bright teeth as a warning beacon to protect the landmark from suffering any collisions with low-flying planes. A very energy-saving solution, I'd say. At least up there, he can avoid having to listen to right-wing radio gasbag, Rush Limburger, who will earn yet another fortune as he rips into the new administration like a starving dingo. In fact, all of radio's paranoid, bent-brained, diversity loathing, bomb-the-immigrants, don't-talk-to-me-about-big-government-except-when-it-comes-to-bailing-out-my-rich-golfing-buddies-and-telling-people-what-they-can-and-can't-do-in-their-personal-lives-ultra-conserative yakkers, get a new life from the Democratic sweep. Lately, they were struggling to be more creative - playing in their audio sandboxes - about assigning blame to liberals for the massive guacamole the Republicans have made of this country. But it was getting harder to avoid the truth that credit for the wreckage goes almost exclusively to 'W' and Dickhead Cheney. Mission accomplished!

Perhaps the only real loser of campaign '08 is the former President, William Jackalope Clinton, who's ride back to the White House, Hillary Rodman Clinton, broke down unexpectedly, scuppering his dreams of restoration. I think Hillary will be OK, because after two Barrack O'Bama terms, she'll still be a vigorous, time-tested old battle-ax, ready to serve. Plus, she wont carry the blame for the unpleasant things the new administration will have to do to clean things up after eight years of a drunken Republican frat-party, which has left our national home with serious structural damage, mountains of empties and lakes of vomit everywhere. Poor Bill will be a barely-remembered old sybarite, jobless and maybe homeless (depending on how concupiscent he is in the intervening years), and living vicariously (in a political sense) off his wife's stature. Hillary will eventually make it back to the White House, but Bill may have to join a forgotten and elderly Joe Biden, still perched and grinning, at the top of the Washington Monument.

Well, I'm thirsty after all the celebrating I did last night, so I'll kettle up and sit down to a nice cup of tea. Somewhere, it must be 4 o'clock.

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ELECTION NIGHT: A VIEWER'S GUIDE

Dear Readers,
After the Super Bowl, the American Idle final and Sponge Bob Square Pants, no other TV event is watched more closely than the coverage of the US Presidential Election. Countries as far away as Canada suspend their own TV schedules in order to keep abreast with the latest returns. In the Us of A, there are dozens of choices of election-night broadcasts to watch, and they are all creating special new gimmicks in an effort to gain the largest number of viewers. So as a service to you - dear readers - I offer up this preview of the most interesting plans of some of our networks, so that you won't miss the really good stuff and won't needlessly wear out your thumb on the TV remote.

CNN - The leader in cable news, they plan to push the envelope by enveloping the entire studio set in a thick layer of milk chocolate. This, they say, will offer a 'sweet treat' for viewers after what has been a sour campaign. Wolf Blitzer will dress as Willy Wonka and Anderson Cooper and Campbell Brown will dress as Hansel & Gretel. Plans to hook Larry King up to medical diagnostic equipment (so they could monitor his reaction to returns) were scrapped.

MSNBC - Acting on a suggestion from wild-man anchor Keith Olbermann, producers plan to have Obama and McCain look-alikes encased in huge fish tanks. Then, every time a state is declared, ten gallons of water for each electoral vote won is added to the tank of the losing candidate. By the time the successful candidate has accumulated the 270 electoral votes needed to win, the stand-in for the unsuccessful candidate will have drowned. Chris Matthews will provide live reports from Sea World on underwater mammal reaction.

FOX NEWS CHANNEL - The 'fair and balanced' cable channel will only show vote totals from the Republican party on it's tally boards and probably will declare McCain the winner by 11 PM, no matter what the actual vote is. Bitter anchors Shepard Smith, Brit Hume and Chris Wallace will then hop in a cab, go across town to CNN's election night headquarters and trash the studio. Should be must-see TV.

THE FOOD NETWORK - The only network to have the actual candidates in-studio, they will present a special edition of Iron Chef America with Obama and McCain as contestants. Who ever wins will actually 'stick a fork' in the loser. The 'secret ingredient' is rumored to be either pork or toast.

THE DISNEY CHANNEL - Hosts Miley Cyrus and The Jonas Brothers will appear together on a 'tweeny' bedroom set and will not speak but will text comments to each other as they watch Nickelodeon's election night coverage. Roy Disney directs. 4COL AITR !

DISCOVERY HEALTH CHANNEL - A panel of research scientists will spend the evening trying to discover why this election made everyone so sick. Doctors will monitor a cross-section of voters in the studio as the returns come in, hoping to save the lives of a few.

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CHANGE THE RECORD, AMERICA !

Dear Readers,

For those of you who haven't been following the news, tomorrow is Election Day, and Tea With S.B. is ready to make an endorsement. It really came down to a choice between the two major-party candidates, Democrat Barak O'Bama and the Green-With-Envy candidate, Ralphie Nader. We didn't really consider the small, fringe, third-party candidate, John Wayne McCaine-Mutiny of the Right Wing Republican Party for several reasons: First - we don't really like political parties with way-out ideas that appeal only to gun-driving, monster truck-toting ostriches. Second - McCaine-Mutiny has urinated big time on Presidential politics with his carpet-chewing, groin-kicking, rumor-mongering style of campaigning that takes us way, way back to the dark ages of 2004. And Third - his choice of that monumentally unqualified broad from Alaska for Vice President. (Who would he choose for his cabinet? The Green Bay Packers' coaching staff?)

No, the choice this year is clear. Everyone, I mean Everyone - even any deceased friends and relatives you can dig up - must vote (several times, if your state law allows) for Barak O'Bama.

If you need a song to sing as you wait in line, follow this link - http://teawithsb.blogspot.com/2008/10/tunes-they-are-changin.html You'll feel better for it.

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GRAPHIC NOVEL FOR THE LAZY ARTIST

Dear Readers,
In my ongoing efforts to keep up with the 1990s, I take this opportunity to show you an example of how you can take one drawing and - using a few basic Photoshop skills - create a whole page for your next Graphic Novel. Just imagine - instead of drawing hundreds of panels in, let's say, a 75-page GN, you could easily polish off the project with less than fifty (obviously using some on more than one page)! So enjoy this tip and Happy Novelling!

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CD REVIEW - "FEELINGS" BY OSAMA

Dear Readers,

The mystery that surrounds world terrorist Osama Bin-Liner deepened this week with the surprising release of his new CD "Feelings". The world's most wanted man takes on the Billboard charts with this collection of 12 tracks, covering some of music's most treacly ballads. (There are two bonus tracks that rock out a little bit -Joni Mitchell's Big Yellow Taxi and Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit). Curious as to what inspired this collection, I sent out a Tea With S.B. reporter to try and locate someone, anyone associated with the project. Fortunately, we were able to talk with the person who designed the cover, Jasper Maskeliner, a painter, sculptor, musician, filmaker, writer-actor, singer, dancer, poet and postal worker. Here's the interview:

TWSB: How were you approached to design the cover?

JM: A mutual friend of ours, Phil Spectator, said he was producing Osama's new album - Phil still insists on calling them albums, by the way, as he explained while holding a gun to my head - and said since it was bound to be controversial, he didn't want anything too flashy or cutting-edge or artistic for the cover, so naturally, he thought of me.

TWSB: So did you work with Bin-Liner directly, or was it...

JM: Oh no, I didn't meet with Osama -as he prefers to be called now - I felt it would compromise my graphic vision for the cover if I got too close to the artist himself. I do have a signed copy, of course.

TWSB: Of course. Was there any pressure on you to make changes once you had come up with a concept? Did Phil exert any influence?

JM: Absolutely not. I was a bit concerned about stirring up any extra controversy though, as I felt that Mr. Osama, in spite of no new product for several years, was still a fairly radioactive property. And I also was mindful that he had the power to pronounce a dirty great fatwah on my ass. So, I was careful.

TWSB: Do you think he was pleased with the cover?

JM: I hope so, as he did send me a signed copy of the CD. But to be on the safe side, I am going into the Government's witness-protection program next Thursday. They said they were going to send me to someplace called 'Guantanamo Bay'. Ever hear of it?

TWSB: Uhh, no. Let's turn to the music. Did you listen to the CD while you were designing the cover?

JM: Well, I did at first, but the background sound of a distressed goat on 'Walkin' My Baby Back Home' upset me a bit. I don't know what was going on there, but I'm sure Mr. Spectator

knew what he was doing, as he's a genius of a producer. I found it much easier to get on with my work by listening to Leonard Nimoy listening to 'The World's Favorite Ring Tones', a great album. It's on all my I-plods.

TWSB: So, do you have any other CD covers in the works?

JM: No.

TWSB: Well, thank you for this interview.

JM: That's OK. Could you hear me all right through this burka?

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