As is typical for me, I’m going to roll through a couple of topics. Who knows where we’ll land, eh?
Haiti redux. Jean Claude “Baby Doc” Duvalier returned to Haiti last week, a fact treated as something of a curiosity by the mainstream media. Sure, they referenced the fact that he killed thousands during his 15-year tenure, picking up the club left by his departed “president for life” father (who was himself removed from office via the only constitutional means available to such a leader). But they didn’t examine the circumstances of Baby Doc’s arrival very deeply at all. All Things Considered did a piece on it Thursday night, and they basically navigated around any suggestion of political maneuvering. (They also managed to avoid mentioning the fact that Lavalas, the largest party in Haiti, was excluded from participating in the recent election.)
The most plausible explanation for his return was suggested by Kim Ives of Haiti Liberté on Democracy Now! this past Wednesday. With his return, pressure is being put on René Preval to allow 
the U.S./French – favored Duvalierist candidate to participate in the run-off for the now disputed Presidential race. Baby Doc is there to rally his supporters, in case Preval hasn’t been getting the message. In as much as there has been talk of sending Preval into exile, I have to think he’s feeling more than a bit pressed. Ives points out that, after having been supine before the demands of the U.S., France, and Canada, Preval is facing deportation over his first disagreement with the international community overlords he has so faithfully served. This is independence?
What’s just as sick is the fact that the 2004 coup, supported wholeheartedly by the United States and France, has been dropped into the memory hole as far as the mainstream media is concerned. The All Things Considered piece, for instance, simply said that Aristide left on an American plane in 2004. True… but hardly “all things considered”. The invented story about his choosing to go into exile has stuck. If these reporters and editors had any integrity, they would provide the crucial context that a.) the country is being ruled by those congenial to the 2004 coup, and b.) the only legitimate mass-based political party in Haiti is banned because it is not sufficiently subservient to the interests of the United States and its allies. Honestly…. if Baby Doc can come back to Haiti and Aristide cannot, there is a political reason for that.
Okay, that’s one topic. And that’s all I’ve got. In all honesty, this irks the hell out of me, so it’s just as well.
luv u,
jp
It is winter in the northeast, after all. (This just in.) And Big Green, being made up of at least 40% sentient life forms, 35% mammalians, tends to be a tad sensitive to the extreme cold. We experience this on our space voyages, of course. Deadly cold in outer space! Just go there and see for yourself. (Bring a jacket… and some oxygen.) It’s a real problem for our friends and spokesvegetable, the mansized tuber, whose sap has a decidedly higher freezing point than our own human blood. That means he needs to stay close to the fire… but not TOO close. It’s a delicate balance for tubey, let me tell you.
How am I wasting my time? Well… usually it’s my job to waste OTHER people’s time. But this week, bored, I opted to do a little video New Year’s greeting for all you folks out there. Just a brief tour of the Cheney Hammer Mill basement, a little look inside our “creative process” – what it looks like when we’re making the sausage we call “music” – and so on. I have posted same for your edification on our YouTube site and other internet haunts bearing our likenesses. Marvin was of some help, though…. his attention was divided, as per usual.
The other thing is the discourse question. There’s no question but that over-the-top rhetoric inspires violent acts; whether this is one of them, no one has been able to say. It just seems like the combination of nut-case gun-headed political screamers and easy availability of guns is a particularly toxic one. What can be done? $5,000 bullets.
All right. We’ve been out on tour for a while, but not that bloody long. Certainly not long enough to forget where we came from. And yet here we are, trying to work out which abandoned mill belongs to us (and when I say “belong,” I mean that in the broadest sense imaginable… broad enough to encompass loose associations). Trouble is, so many mills have closed down around here even since our departure some weeks ago that it’s hard to sort it all out. Seems a lot of people are getting into the abandoned mill trade. It’s a buyers’ market, so to speak… or a squatters’ market, actually.
rocks and trees, smashing car windows, and so on. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) was called into action – we got him to clasp the anchor in his prehensile claws and wheel it along the ground as smoothly as possible while we, one by one, climbed down to safety. (if you can call life on Earth “safe”).
One wishes that were the full extent of the madness – just the Keystone Cop-like clumsiness – but it goes much deeper than that. The corporations that poured money into this last campaign will be getting just what they paid for: a legislature devoted to ensuring full federal compliance with their legislative and regulatory priorities. They got some love from the 111th Congress, to be sure, particularly in light of what has happened to the economy and the environment over the past two years, but this is a prize of an entirely different order of magnitude. This is a paid-for House, pure and simple.
Yes, we’re still bobbing our way home at sub-standard speed in our partially-disabled rent-a-spacewreck. Our ENTER THE MIND: THE ULTIMATE BIG GREEN EXPERIENCE interstellar tour now shrinking in the rearview mirror, we have managed to limp as far as the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter, where we are now dodging larger than average planetoids, popcorn-like fragments, and other assorted celestial debris (including some familiar looking stuff I last saw in the crawlspace above my old garage from seventeen rentals ago…. always wondered what became of that).
Why Hammermill Days? Well, when we started this blog back in 1999, it was actually called “Notes from Sri Lanka” – check our deep archive and you’ll see. We changed it to Hammermill Days a few years ago. As you know, every band needs a back story. You know the deal – raised by wolves, dropped by martians, etc. Frankly, we didn’t have an actual personal history, so we invented one, using the old (and now long-since demolished) Cheney Hammer Mill (in Little Falls, NY) as our mythical home. (Because all bands live together, right?) The rest is obvious (or is that oblivious?).
Street, the bonuses were fatter than a Christmas goose once again. (They’ve got a tax cut on the way, too.) Even with all that, they managed to take a swipe at Obama, who has done little more than wag a finger at them. There’s gratitude for you. 
Yes, I know… we should do the decent, right? Be with our families, etc. Alas, technology makes clueless monkeys of us all. This horrible rust-bucket leftover from some forgotten interplanetary invasion we rented as transport during our interstellar tour has blown yet another gasket or some such thing, per our mad science advisor Mitch Macaphee. He used a lot of big words, none of which I’d ever heard before (though Matt was familiar with several of them… strange…). The upshot is, we’re chugging along at subnormal speed, making our leisurely way back to Earth from the Kuiper Belt – last stop on the ENTER THE MIND: THE ULTIMATE BIG GREEN EXPERIENCE interstellar tour.
Me? I’m telling holiday stories to anyone who will listen. Thing is, no one will listen. Actually, as rock bands go, we’ve got a lot of holiday related material. There’s our first album, 
That’s all good, but it’s just a step in the right direction. Gay Americans are still second-class citizens, barred from full civil rights as of this moment. As of now, there is an institutional necessity to allow gays to join the military – with an all-volunteer force like ours, we cannot wage two (or perhaps three) simultaneous wars without providing incentives to talented people of every persuasion to participate. The trouble is, when they return to civilian life (those who don’t choose to make the military a permanent career), they find themselves unable to marry, to raise a family, or to hold certain types of positions in some states. Not a dissimilar situation to that of the late 1940s, early 1950s, when black soldiers returned to the segregated south and a nearly equally racist north. My guess is that it’s just a matter of time before the crumbling edifice of discrimination against gays falls entirely to pieces.
Oh, hi, friends of Big Green. Glad this is getting out to you. WiFi is a little unreliable out here in the midst of the Kuiper Belt… all these particles and planetoids cause a boatload of interference, as you might well imagine. Yes, we did manage to navigate our way through the black hole that had parked itself next to that annoying Goldilocks Planet our label talked us into playing. (We now know why the Gliesians call the black hole “Papa Bear”). The advice we’d been given took us right into the old vortex. Turns out it’s just a transdimensional expressway back to the Kuiper Belt. Bit of good luck, that.
There are three things you need to know about this Kuiper Belt place. The first is that it’s bloody cold. I think you might have guessed. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) has tanked out his battery half a dozen times since we got here. The second is that this place is like the solar system’s lost and found. Apparently everything that gets lost on Earth (and everywhere else in Sol’s neighborhood) ends up here. For instance, there are literally billions of odd socks floating around and between the asteroids. Explains a lot. That stuff they call “dark matter”? Socks. Just socks. I think it’s just centrifugal force, spinning everything out to the rim. Now you know.