NOTES FROM SRI LANKA.

(July '06)

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07/02/06

Ahoy, ahoy, ahoy...

It's awful hard to hide on a ship, m'ladies. Scuttle me britches, sons-of-a-bitches. Raise the yard-arm. Lower the yard-leg. Hoist the mizzen-mast. Mast the hoist-mizzen. Hast the moist hizzen, for shizzle.

Whoops. Didn't know you were copying all that. Just practicing my ship-board jargon. Getting a little bit rusty, what with having spent the last year on solid ground. My pirate-words are getting all tangled up with one another. (Hard enough to understand those scurvy fuckers to begin with without putting their ravings through a scrambler.) We're getting awfully close to launch time (it's about noon right now, and I'm getting peckish) ... launch time, and if I'm going to be scuffling around in zero gravity environments, I want to talk the talk as well as walk the walk, you follow me? Arrrgghh.

Enough of this gay banter. We are about to embark on a bold new expedition to remote corners of the galaxy. I'm not talking some old Ford Galaxy, either, I'm talking about the big enchilada, the mongo galaxy... what we know as the Milky Way. No, not the candy bar. The real deal. No, not John Kerry. Arrrgghhhh. Bloody brand names! You just can't get away from them. Try to have a five minute conversation without stumbling upon large swaths of the language they have appropriated to their own dark purposes... just TRY. Okay, I'm a bit on edge - I admit. This trip is looming, and I'm just not ready. Not packed, not rehearsed, no house-sitter. I haven't even gotten Marvin (my personal robot assistant) to agree to sign an appearance contract so that he can join us on stage without charging extra money later on. (Oh, he learns QUICKLY.)

Actually, speaking of contracts, we've gotten some interest from another corporate label. You remember our old label - Hegemonic Records and Worm Farm, Inc.? (I think they've contracted that to just Hegephonic since our day.) Well, just as we were packing our pipe organ onto the spacecraft, a blank contract came in from a label called Loathsome Prick Records. Can't say as I've ever heard of them before. I think they do a lot of spoken word stuff. (They may be the guys who distribute Bill O'Reilly's books on tape, but that's just supposition.) I'm not sure where they found out about Big Green, but what the fuck... they HAVE to be better than Hegemonic (or Hegephonic). Sound like a nice bunch of people, anyway. Think maybe I'll drop them a note before we blast off. Or maybe I'll have the Big Zamboola carry it over to them personally. (He can always catch up with us, being a planetoid and all.)

What's that sound? It's the low murmur of our stardrive engines revving up. Yeah, I just made that up. I don't know what propels us from planet to planet - we just press buttons, consult our science advisors, and somehow we get there. What the hell, do I look like someone who knows what he's doing? Look closer!

  WEEKLY RANT. 

(Note to readers: for those of you only interested in my political ravings, start here. For those who only wish to inspect my band-related ravings,...well...you get the drift.)

Roach Bottle. The great peacemaker Ehud Olmert started pounding the living shit out of Gaza this week on the pretext of saving a captured Israeli soldier -- one soldier, mind you, who is being held on the demand of releasing 1,000 detainees in Israel. Apparently Olmert's "way forward" (Kadima) is destined to lead through the shattered lives of every Palestinian in that impoverished tract of land. The prime minister is proving that he has the blood of his mentor, the killer Sharon, in his veins - - a wise move, no doubt, given the sentiments of his constituency. We are witnessing collective punishment of a kind that might be vigorously prosecuted in a just world, its planners facing the gallows, if precedent were to be followed. (Not my preference, but there you have it.) The Israeli attack on Gaza began with air strikes against power generation facilities, effectively cutting off electricity and water to entire communities. No small matter in such a place. Civilian casualties have been reported to be minimal, even non-existent, up to this writing, but are they checking the hospitals? People on respirators? Old folks who need meds, heart monitors, etc.? 

Is it a coincidence that this operation should occur as Hamas was in the process of working out a policy regarding recognition of Israel and a two-state solution? Recall the Sharon modus operandi -- moderation is the enemy and must be attacked whenever it rears its not-so-ugly head. The Israeli government can only press its expansionist agenda on the West Bank to the extent that it successfully portrays the Palestinians -- all Palestinians -- as violent extremists hell bent of the destruction of Israel and the killing of Jewish civilians. What if Hamas were to formally accept the prospect of a treaty based on the long-held international consensus (two states based on the pre-June 1967 borders)? What if they were to become principally a political grouping like Sinn Fein or the African National Congress? That would never do -- the Israeli government and a significant portion of the population do not want to relinquish the West Bank and Jordan valley. Sharon dedicated most of his career to that conviction, as have many other Israeli politicians of the right and left. A demilitarized Hamas would be a far greater threat to that project than any armed brigade; it would constitute the legitimate negotiating partner Olmert and others insist does not exist on the Palestinian side. 

This is all about keeping the conflict in the military sphere, where the Israelis have an insurmountable advantage, as opposed to the diplomatic/political sphere, where they haven't a legitimate leg to stand on. If nothing else, the events of this week illustrate what a sham this Gaza "disengagement" policy has been. The place is completely under the control of the Israelis. They control all the exits and entrances. Their massive air force flies over at will, and they lob tank shells and fire missiles into the strip at every opportunity. This is the kind of sovereignty Palestinians on the West Bank can look forward to as well. It is the fulfillment of the vision articulated by an Israeli politician some years back, that the Palestinians should be made to exist like "drugged roaches in a bottle." An apt description of the quality of life in Gaza, to be sure. 

It may look miserable, but don't be fooled. For some, Gaza is a dream come true. 

luv u,

jp

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07/09/06

'Neath a southern moon!

Is that a southern moon or a northern one? Little hard to tell from this perspective. Everything is relative, relatively speaking. I even have relatives in my band. Matt Perry - my brother. Little known fact. Oh, and John White... brother-in-law. Kazow - now you know. 

Okay, so anyway. Big Green has embarked on its very special GET ME THE HELL OUTA HERE Tour 2006, after much discussion of logistical considerations, much debate, much...  too much... pain in the ass nattering over every detail, our great space cruiser finally lifted off, hours behind schedule. Like 400 hours. (That's actually days behind schedule, but we'll call it hours.) Well, like I said, there was a lot of preliminary bullshit. Ship's manifests to manifest. An entire complement to compliment. Orders to be put in order.... I'm telling you, these things take time. The important thing is, we sailed off into the heavens with all of us on board, and just minutes behind the arrival of the bailiffs at the door of the semi-deconstructed Cheney Hammer Mill. (Close shave!)

Many people have asked (don't ask how many... just trust me) about the spacecraft we use (I'm telling you, it's more than a few people... lots of people, okay?) when we go on these interstellar tours -- how does it work, what are its origins, etc.? Well, for those of you who are just dying to know (and you know who you are), we drive a reconstituted stunt model for the original Jupiter 2 spacecraft used in the Lost In Space television series of the 1960s. No, it doesn't run on "deutronium" fuel, as that ridiculous show suggested, any more than Dick Nixon ran on cottage cheese and ketchup (beyond a certain point). Thanks to the efforts of our chief science advisor, Mitch Macaphee, the phony J-2 is propelled by an eludium positron star-drive with a maximum range of 7500 light years between refuelings. Now that's economy. Don't know how it works exactly, but when it's idling it sounds like this:

....Pocketa Pocketa Pocketa Pocketa Pocketa Pocketa Pocketa Pocketa Pocketa Pocketa Pocketa ....

Yeah, I know. Mitch says they all do that. It gets us where we need to go, that's the point. 

But there are more reasons for using the J-2 than mere economy. Frankly, it's jolly comfortable - like an RV in space. What's more, it's supremely robot-friendly. What with Marvin (my personal robot assistant) as an important member of our contingent (as far as the cyborgs of the galaxy are concerned), this is a prime consideration. The J-2 has a customized magnetic "lock" pedestal built for automatons - old Marvin just steps in there, throws a switch, and he can stand through 40 g's of forward thrust without pegging a single dial. (That's how a robot spells comfort, my friend.) The man-sized tuber has his customized terrarium on the lower deck, and even Big Zamboola finds plenty of room to bounce around in the engine room / power core area. What the hell, we've got a crew that defies simple definition, if you catch my meaning. Not just any interstellar craft will accommodate them all. 

Anyway, so here's the plan: We arrive on Neptune this weekend for a couple of pick-up performances, booked at the last minute by Posi-Lincoln, followed by a showcase on Uranus sponsored by Loathsome Prick Records, then it's off to Kaztropharius 137b for our triumphant return. By that time, hopefully, we will know where the hell else we're going. (Keep watching that FAX machine, Lincoln - those signed contracts should be coming through any time now!) 

  WEEKLY RANT. 

(Note to readers: for those of you only interested in my political ravings, start here. For those who only wish to inspect my band-related ravings,...well...you get the drift.)

Long Shot. As you know, the North Koreans launched their deadly ICBM this week -- the one our entire political office-holding class has been obsessing about for weeks on end. Turns out the missile that was supposed to be capable of reaching the U.S. couldn't even make it to North Korea. Essentially the same thing happened back in the 1990s - dud missile makes world headlines and puts NORAD on high alert for a fortnight.. Why is this treated like a credible threat to our very survival? Yes, North Korea may have nuclear weapons, but what the hell are they going to do with them? Even if that long-range missile worked, they couldn't put their nukes on it... and even if they could, firing one at us or our allies would be like firing a pistol at a machine gun nest -- a "suicide weapon" in the truest sense of the phrase. It is strange that we tend to behave as though we are threatened by these impoverished societies when, in fact, it is we who pose an existential threat to them. And we've demonstrated our willingness to attack without provocation.

Unfortunately, this tendency towards jingoistic alarmism is unlikely to change should Congress flip back to the Democrats this year, or if a Dem is elected to the presidency in 2008. There is a bipartisan consensus on this idiocy such that the party that's out of power is always pushing the ruling party towards more extreme measures. Just as Kerry criticized Bush in 2004 for not hitting Fallujah hard enough, mainstream Democrats regularly chastise the administration for being too soft on Iran, North Korea, Syria, etc. Everybody wants to go for the "tough" guy routine - it's a no-brainer in an election year (quite literally). Some of the stuff I hear Hillary Clinton saying is enough to make me want to picket her office and burn her publicity photo. You'd think a Senator would feel it less necessary to hew to a reactionary line in a state that's one of the nation's most liberal. Trouble is, she really believes that trash she's talking, aging Goldwater girl that she is. 

When you've got support for the Iraq war at well below 50%, you have to wonder why so many Democrats are avoiding the issue like a new strain of the SARS virus. Why is a conservative Dem like John Murtha among the only ones saying anything substantive about this conflict? My guess is that they're looking around the next electoral corner. They, in essence, are still trying to inoculate themselves against being on the wrong side of a victorious campaign, just as they tried to do during the 2002 election. Many, I'm sure, still believe in this war in as much as they think it is a worthy cause that's being ineptly handled, rather than a bankrupt enterprise that is bad for Iraq and bad for us. About the only ones who still love this war are Dubya's crew and Osama. 

Hey - both need recruits, right? 

luv u,

jp

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07/16/06

Hello mudder, hello fodder... 

No, no... don't run. I won't go there. Just humming quietly to myself. World of my own. Did I hear a whistle just then? Passing bobolink, perhaps? Perhaps not. Did I say something? Did you?

So much for twenty questions. (Always hated that game!) Well, here we are in deep, deep shit... I mean, space, trying to feel our way from solar system to solar system without the benefit of anything even resembling a trained spacecraft pilot. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) keeps insisting that he knows how to drive this thing, but quite honestly... I can't understand a word he's saying, and unless he makes himself a bit clearer, I simply cannot risk putting all of our lives in his "hands" (actually claws, but you get me). Mitch Macaphee, our chief science advisor, claims to have a master's license, and he has actually piloted us through this "middle passage" between solar systems before, but.... well.... he's having a bit of a bender this week. Got his hands on some Neptunian schnapps during our showcase on Uranus and, well... the rest is history (or should I say nausea). Anyway, not a chance of letting him have the tiller. 

Of course, that leaves us quite literally rudderless. I mean, I don't know how to fly this thing. And much as I have every confidence in Trevor James Constable as an expert in etheric or bioplasmic energy, piloting interstellar RV's is a little beyond his ken. And sFshzenKlyrn... don't even get me started on him. The last time we let our Zenite guitarist take the reins, he took us on a scrape 'round the galaxy none of us are likely to forget. (As a pan-dimensional being of no fixed shoe size, sFshzenKlyrn regards conventional scientific devices like space ships as nothing more than cheap carnival rides.) So ultimately I've resorted to just snapping a little toggle switch on our control console that's marked "Auto Pilot". (Actually, it has an engraved plate that reads "Hatch Light", but that's crossed out and "Auto Pilot" is written over it in crayon.) Up to now, we haven't crashed into anything... but then I don't think we're any closer to Kaztropharius 137b, either. It's probably too soon in our meanderings to ask Big Zamboola if he knows how to drive this thing. (After him, it's the man-sized tuber.) 

How have our gigs gone so far? Glad you asked. This is interesting, actually. The Neptune jobs were actually quite well attended, though because of the poisonous atmosphere, we were unable to really connect with the crowd... or even see them through the vapors. So how did I know anyone was out there? Could see the glowing ends of their fancy panatela cigars, that's how. The rest was just simple arithmetic. (Big favorite up there on Neptune, those stogies - if you ever want to make friends there, just flick your little oxygen lighter and fire one of those babies up. They'll treat you like their old uncle scaly.) The showcase thing on Uranus didn't go so hot, frankly. I told you about Mitch's little... well... issue. Then the stage, for Christ's sake, was made of molten nickel. (We have a stipulation written into our standard contract that magma-based performance surfaces are not acceptable - John White insisted on that, and with good reason!) To top it all off, it turned out that the representative from Loathsome Prick Records was a real... well... loathsome prick. Who woulda thunk it? (You woulda? Hmmmmm....)   

So we're essentially two for three on this GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE SUMMER TOUR 2006. Not too shabby. That is, if you don't count the fact that we're drifting aimlessly at this particular juncture. At least now posi-Lincoln has an opportunity to catch up with some of those club owners, and he has been working the wireless relentlessly since we executed our trans-stellar injection. I think he's hoping to get us into the Hard Rock Cafe on Polaris, but don't hold your breath. (Hmmm... Maybe we should give Marvin a crack at that astrogator....)  

  WEEKLY RANT. 

(Note to readers: for those of you only interested in my political ravings, start here. For those who only wish to inspect my band-related ravings,...well...you get the drift.)

Hello, Uncle Fucker. Hats off, friends - Uncle Dick Cheney, president of these here United States, came to my home town this Friday to do a fundraiser for a local GOP geek who's running for an open seat in the House of Representatives. The visit has generated a range of reactions, from expressions of delight at what an honor it is for Utica to host such an illustrious guest (like that nice general Pinochet... oh, and Mrs. Pinochet!) to a fair-sized protest march and rally (see www.creepyveep.com for details). Personally, I'm glad that this 300 pounds of condemned veal in a gray suit (as Gore Vidal so aptly described him) is going out of his way to endorse the Republican in this district's first truly competitive congressional race in a quarter century. Cheney is a political leper, quite frankly, even less popular than his mutant ninja boss; a clip of him saying what a great congressman Ray Meier would make is just the kind of free advertising the opposition needs. 

Many people ascribe a kind of satanic darkness to this bloated object, but I have to say that I agree with Alex Cockburn on Cheney - he's largely a fuck up, and thick as a plank. I mean, when has he gotten anything right? If it weren't for the fact that there is, in essence, no opposition party and that the corporate press is a pack of subservient curs, Bush/Cheney/Rumsfeld  would have been out on their incompetent asses a long time ago. As it is, the vice president is now probably the most despised politician in America. Pity he's running the country, really. I mean, the guy is so lame that even Vladmir Putin -- VLADMIR PUTIN, for chrissake! -- got a laugh line out  on him the other day. I always think of that day down in Mississippi when Cheney was doing a post-Katrina photo op in his shirt sleeves and some guy shouted, "Fuck yourself, mister Cheney!" Probably the high point of his presidency... I mean, VICE presidency. Well... I suppose that would beat Bush's high point -- catching a big fish in his private pond. These boneheads could wreck the entire American empire simply by strolling through it. 

Speaking of the empire, things are really going septic just lately. If some kind of imperial order does exist, there is currently no one at the helm. Israel is pounding the living hell out of Gaza and Lebanon at the same time, while Hizbullah (in Lebanon) is vowing all out war on Israel in retaliation. They are, of course, a Shi'ite organization, and attacks on them will ripple through the majority population of Iraq, as well as Iran, Saudi Arabia, and elsewhere. Probably 100-150 million Shi'ia Muslims in the world, and I can't think that very many of them are happy to see clerics' homes being flattened and their children beheaded by Israeli munitions. Our official response? Israel has the right to offend itself. Did I get that right? Oh, yeah... a good offense is the best defense, right? So our way of helping is by lecturing the victims. That's the stuff, Bolton. You tell 'em. 

This is getting pretty scary. That's all I've got. Hang in there, folks. And keep your heads down. 

luv u,

jp

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07/23/06

No fear, mate.

None so far, anyway. Fear? I laugh in its face. Danger? Mere amusement. Calamity? She and I are old friends. (I call her Jane.) Certain doom? I spit in your face, you flimsy cardboard sideshow attraction.... What was that? Did you hear a noise?

Welcome back to the traveling sideshow that is Big Green's GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE SUMMER TOUR 2006 - a welcome departure from the trials of a tiresome planet Earth, to say the least. I can only speak for our tiny corner of that accursed globe, but even so, there are troubles-a-plenty down there. If you are reading from some extraterrestrial locale, heed this piece of advice - stay away from the one called Earth! Stay AWAY!!! Misfortune awaits you there - just ask Big Zamboola, who was once a planet himself and found it necessary to abandon his own personal gravitational field in order to accommodate the demands of the demonic planet Earth. Christ, you can't even get a decent egg salad on rye down there without someone shorting you on the half-sour pickle. (Last time, I got a freaking dill spear... out of a jar! Barbarians!)

Okay... enough of my tirade. You've come to hear happy news, and I shall not disappoint you. For those of you who were wondering (and I'm sure there are at least one or two), I did ultimately relent and allow Marvin (my personal robot assistant) to take the helm of our J2 space RV and guide us to the mysterious planet Kaztropharius 137b where the vast majority of our records are sold. Good thing, too. It turned out that our witless wandering was being remotely guided by nefarious critters from a nearby dead star (the one known as "Dead Star 14"), who were attempting to steer us into a black hole (or what sFshzenKlyrn would call, "a fun, fun carnival ride!") I guess until you've been crushed to a wafer-thin singularity, you can never know how purely FUN it is. (Try this at home, kids.) Luckily, trusty (or is it "rusty"?) Marvin took the reins and pulled us away from the icy grip of fate just in time. Man-o-man, what a ride.

We were greeted on Kaztropharius 137b with the usual enthusiasm. All the denizens of that mysterious, murky world were flashing their little blue lights at us. This is what passes for applause here, and it can be a bit disconcerting from the prospect of a climate-controlled stage. In fact, the flashing became so furious at one point that Matt nearly dropped his bass guitar and the man-sized tuber (who was doubling as a conga stand) started breaking out in strange blisters. There may be radiological factor involved here, I'm not certain. (Note to self: schedule visit to health clinic upon return home.... assuming they're still accepting no-pays.) The only one who was unaffected was -- of course - sFshzenKlyrn, to whom the laws of physics do not in any serious way apply. (Some of you may remember the time, a few years back, when he grew to be ten stories tall. Now there's a guy who refuses to obey the laws of physics.)

Things went pretty well, though, I must confess. Only headache is the lack of confirmation on our upcoming jobs in the Small Magellanic Cloud. Kind of want to have a signed contract before we cross the void, know what I mean? Poor old Lincoln has been sitting by that FAX machine for the last two weeks, waiting, waiting, waiting for word to come buzzing through. A man of great patience, our man Abe. (My guess is that anti-Lincoln pulled the plug on the FAX machine, but don't quote me on that.)  

  WEEKLY RANT. 

(Note to readers: for those of you only interested in my political ravings, start here. For those who only wish to inspect my band-related ravings,...well...you get the drift.)

Bombastards. Israel's hysterical use of largely U.S. supplied firepower continued unchecked this week, deepening the humanitarian crisis in the prison known as Gaza and raining destruction on a virtually defenseless Lebanon. On this side of the pond, pundits, ex-pols, and talking heads of every stripe are blathering their support of the indefensible. Long discredited ex-Speaker Newt Gingrich joined fellow armchair reactionaries Bill O'Reilly and Sean Hannity in describing this as World War III. (Hallucinogenic neo-con Michael Ledeen took time out from lobbying for war with Iran to announce the advent of something he calls "World War IV" - did I miss something?) Meanwhile, from his impregnable pillbox in the editorial pages of hundreds of U.S. newspapers - a safe distance from the fighting, to be sure - Chuck Krauthammer fulminated about how Israel is fighting for its life... though how a resistance organization of maybe 1,000 full-time fighters with second hand munitions can pose an existential threat to the world's 4th most powerful military state (one with perhaps 300 nuclear weapons) is a bit of a mystery, frankly. 

The U.S.'s position on this severe breach of the peace is clear - let the killing continue. Presidential spokesman and First Cousin Tony Snow told reporters that the president was not in favor of a cease fire that would leave Hezbollah in place, a sentiment later echoed by Secretary Rice. True to the traditional American position regarding Israel, we have blocked any meaningful action by the Security Council. So much for the Bush doctrine of promoting democracy in the Middle East. How many times have we heard junior babble on about how democracies don't attack their neighbors? Well, the Israeli democracy is now destroying what was recently hailed by the administration as a budding democracy in Lebanon, effectively ensuring that the dominant political force in southern Lebanon, whether Hezbollah or some successor, will be even more hostile towards Israel. Meanwhile in Gaza, Israel is busily attacking the democratically elected Hamas government, killing its constituents and kidnapping its ministers - essentially an escalation of its ongoing policy since the "disengagement" from Gaza. Clearly our support for democracy is based more on outcomes than on principles. No surprises there. 

Admiral Krauthammer's second column of the week lamely attempted to frame Israel's action in Lebanon as similar to the U.S. expulsion of Iraq from Kuwait in 1991. That's probably the most ass-backwards analysis I've heard yet this year. If anyone here resembles Saddam Hussein's wehrmacht it's the IDF, unleashing the full fury of its arsenal on a far weaker nation, targeting civilian infrastructure, and killing hundreds of non-combatants so far. Not the first time, either. Furthermore, Hezbollah is anything but a foreign occupier of southern Lebanon, much as it may serve the neo-con paradigm to paint them as terror legions under orders from Tehran and Damascus. Hezbollah is an indigenous political organization deeply rooted in Lebanon's Shi'a community, the nation's single largest religious group comprising 40 percent of Lebanon's population. Like Hamas, they are an Islamist group that has both political and military wings, and provides some level of basic services to a population that has been neglected by its own government and battered by the Israelis. It is Israel that is the invader, and it is they who will ultimately be driven out -- now or ten years from now. 

Oh.... and Iraq is going septic. But lucky for Rumsfeld, now there's another major conflict squeezing it off of the front page.  

luv u,

jp

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