I'm out on the lawn watching a hundred typewriters soaked in green paint

It being something of the zeitgeist- and I'm all about contributing to the spirit of the age- I decided to pursue some turf change I can believe in. So I ripped up the front yard, filled in some hollows with dirt from the patio excavation, and planted grass seed. I felt like Blind Bim shaving the earth dry and regaining some of the Lost Farm.

(I especially liked the 19th C yeoman's tool used to remove the old sod. The Maine Woods Thoreau essays I've been reading put me in the proper mood to slave away on that implement that resembles a medieval torture device. )

Bailout the banks, loan art to the church

Does anyone remember the other $170 billion stimulus package that was supposed to fend off a recession?

We have always been at war with Eurasia.

Been too long at the fair

"I'm all out of sick days. Next time I'm calling in dead."
"Not as lean, not as mean, but still a Marine."
"The Bible talks about St. Paul but doesn't mention Minneapolis"

-t-shirts seen at the State Fair

A melody haunts my reverie

I used to have that lonesome ability to be ensnared by melodies that played endlessly in my head. But I haven't felt found myself in that state of addiction since, say, the emergence of Neutral Milk Hotel's last opus. Noting how my latest listening excursions weren't "sticky" (to borrow that Web 2.0 term), I wondered what changed. I'd lost the ability to become haunted: was it me or the music?

I decided it was me. I chalked the change to having a much fuller life with Mrs. B, with school, then a fledgling career, then kids, so I didn't simply have the time to drown myself in any single aural ocean.

But then along came a record that has upset my internal jukebox apple cart. I think it's the seduction of the hopelessly obscure- I just can't get enough of those private sonic thrills. Who else would be interested in a collection of low-fi ditties from '90s Buckeyes?

Well, I would or Bob's your uncle. It has all the right personal connections for me to kindle that delusion that I'm Almost Famous. The album contains cuts from a guy from Gaunt I met at a French Quarter party in the mid-'90s and from the Scat Records owner who lived down the street from me in high school. It even has the cache of possessing a song from the Yo La Tengo bassist who's anonymous on the track listing. But the two songs that really slay me are from a guy who shamelessly steals the Galaxie 500 sound (and gets away with it) and a song from a Guided by Voices member.

So excuse me while I go hit "play."

Evil Minds that Plot Destruction

After witnessing the St. Paul Hatefest put on by the Republicans, I was feeling a little uncertain about the likelihood of Democrats prevailing in this year's presidential race; that is until I heard Black Sabbath's "War Pigs"* on classic rock radio while driving through rural Wisconsin yesterday.

I think it can be safely said; when you've lost classic rock radio, you've lost the nation.

*for the Sab illiterate, I offer the lyrics below:

"Generals gathered in their masses

Just like witches at black masses

Evil minds that plot destruction

Sorcerers of deaths construction

In the fields the bodies burning

As the war machine keeps turning

Death and hatred to mankind

Poisoning their brainwashed minds, oh lord yeah!

Politicians hide themselves away

They only started the war

Why should they go out to fight?

They leave that role to the poor

Time will tell on their power minds

Making war just for fun

Treating people just like pawns in chess

Wait till their judgement day comes, yeah!

Now in darkness, world stops turning

As the war machine keeps burning

No more war pigs of the power

Hand of God has struck the hour

Day of judgement, God is calling

On their knees, the war pigs crawling

Begging mercy for their sins

Satan, laughing, spreads his wings

All right now!"

Jokerman

Call me clueless because I don't get John McCain's jokes.

"Why is Chelsea Clinton so ugly?
Because her father is Janet Reno."

What's funny about that?