This post was drivel.
I'll see if I can make it better.
Until then here's some music.
Doo-be-doo doo-doo-doo-doo
doob dooby doob doob
doo
dooby-doop
doopely doop
Monday, September 27, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
From Despair to Where
or 'From Diss Betterware' which is what it sounds like old James Dean Bradfield from the Manic Street Preachers appears to be singing. He's a good one for that; for a while I thought the song 'Kevin Carter' was actually about the widely disliked film-maker and critic Kenneth Korda. 'Motorcycle Emptiness' has to be my all time favourite though probably just because it came out at the right time for me and is tied up to lots of memories including the classic time when my CD 125 ran out of juice and I had to hitch a lift off a nuclear physicist.
It's raining today.......
On the subject of twisted lyrics, I found some of my own in a old notebook under the bed. I think they're from the early 1990s and I can imagine I was listening to a lot of Dead Kennedys at the time. I like it, though I'll admit I have had to fill one hole I'd left at the time:
Joyriding in my brothers car
Do you know where the fuck we are?
Cos I don't
No I don't
I'm a bit confused today
There's a lot occurring
And my heads gone blown away
Gonna put my arm round you
And suggest what we might do
But you won't
No you won't
It seems I never win
I've got 2 tins of Fussells
And it's doing my head in
Joy-riding
Joy-riding
Gonna roll up something green
And think about what I just seen....
Good eh! Not happy about the double use of the non-word 'gonna' but otherwise it shows promise. It's a pity there's not a date but it must have been around the time I was at University (92-95) or just after. There's not a lot else in here to be frank. There's this:
" Guy dressed as clown who has a go at people."
Just that sentence which you don't get a lot out of but it could be a reference to Krusty, Pennywise or those stripey Hopi Indian clowns. Or maybe none of them. Hey there's this country and western song which has never seen the light of day. It says it's set to the tune of 'The 1913 Massacre' by Woody Guthrie, which it certainly isn't:
My Pa, he was a Miner
And he worked down in the pit
His lungs were filled with coal dust
And his mind was filled with shit
He didn't believe in welfare
So I grew up all thin
But I can't explain, oh Sarah Jane
This dreadful state I'm in
It then stops and says 'This aint much of a song is it?' However it continues on the next page:
My brother, he's a psycho
And he's killed many folks
He killed that German football guy
Whose name was Berti Volkes
If you don't like my singing
Then I'll just shut my face
It's such a pain, sweet Sarah Jane
How I hate that human race
None of that is true btw. As far as I'm aware Berti Volkes is alive and well. Sarah-Jane was a real person too and that's how I can date this material. University was fun but I was broke then and had no discernable skills I could trade for money. I must have presented as a pretty sorry sight back then even though I had lots of hair. I often daydream of being back in those days with the knowledge I have now and the hair I had then but it's lucky that's not possible. Imagine if the me of 1993 was presented with the ability to make free raw opium. I'd almost certainly have spent the last decade on Methadone and possibly would have been dead already. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
None, of course, is absolutely fatal.
It's raining today.......
On the subject of twisted lyrics, I found some of my own in a old notebook under the bed. I think they're from the early 1990s and I can imagine I was listening to a lot of Dead Kennedys at the time. I like it, though I'll admit I have had to fill one hole I'd left at the time:
Joyriding in my brothers car
Do you know where the fuck we are?
Cos I don't
No I don't
I'm a bit confused today
There's a lot occurring
And my heads gone blown away
Gonna put my arm round you
And suggest what we might do
But you won't
No you won't
It seems I never win
I've got 2 tins of Fussells
And it's doing my head in
Joy-riding
Joy-riding
Gonna roll up something green
And think about what I just seen....
Good eh! Not happy about the double use of the non-word 'gonna' but otherwise it shows promise. It's a pity there's not a date but it must have been around the time I was at University (92-95) or just after. There's not a lot else in here to be frank. There's this:
" Guy dressed as clown who has a go at people."
Just that sentence which you don't get a lot out of but it could be a reference to Krusty, Pennywise or those stripey Hopi Indian clowns. Or maybe none of them. Hey there's this country and western song which has never seen the light of day. It says it's set to the tune of 'The 1913 Massacre' by Woody Guthrie, which it certainly isn't:
My Pa, he was a Miner
And he worked down in the pit
His lungs were filled with coal dust
And his mind was filled with shit
He didn't believe in welfare
So I grew up all thin
But I can't explain, oh Sarah Jane
This dreadful state I'm in
It then stops and says 'This aint much of a song is it?' However it continues on the next page:
My brother, he's a psycho
And he's killed many folks
He killed that German football guy
Whose name was Berti Volkes
If you don't like my singing
Then I'll just shut my face
It's such a pain, sweet Sarah Jane
How I hate that human race
None of that is true btw. As far as I'm aware Berti Volkes is alive and well. Sarah-Jane was a real person too and that's how I can date this material. University was fun but I was broke then and had no discernable skills I could trade for money. I must have presented as a pretty sorry sight back then even though I had lots of hair. I often daydream of being back in those days with the knowledge I have now and the hair I had then but it's lucky that's not possible. Imagine if the me of 1993 was presented with the ability to make free raw opium. I'd almost certainly have spent the last decade on Methadone and possibly would have been dead already. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
None, of course, is absolutely fatal.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
The ballad of Sacco & Vanzetti
I thought one line of The Ballad of Sacco & Vanzetti was insufficient so here are all the lyrics to Parts 1 & 2 by Joan Baez and Ennio Morricone. This is dedicated to those good cops and fine chaps in the CPS who at least put away one violent cop this week, for beating up a lady. Good work!
I
"Give to me your tired and your poor
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me."
Blessed are the persecuted
And blessed are the pure in heart
Blessed are the merciful
And blessed are the ones who mourn
The step is hard that tears away the roots
And says goodbye to friends and family
The fathers and the mothers weep
The children cannot comprehend
But when there is a promised land
The brave will go and others follow
The beauty of the human spirit
Is the will to try our dreams
And so the masses teemed across the ocean
To a land of peace and hope
But no one heard a voice or saw a light
As they were tumbled onto shore
And none was welcomed by the echo of the phrase
"I lift my lamp beside the golden door."
II
Father, yes, I am a prisoner
Fear not to relay my crime
The crime is loving the forsaken
Only silence is shame
And now I'll tell you what's against us
An art that's lived for centuries
Go through the years and you will find
What's blackened all of history
Against us is the law
With its immensity of strength and power
Against us is the law!
Police know how to make a man
A guilty or an innocent
Against us is the power of police!
The shameless lies that men have told
Will ever more be paid in gold
Against us is the power of the gold!
Against us is racial hatred
And the simple fact that we are poor
My father dear, I am a prisoner
Don't be ashamed to tell my crime
The crime of love and brotherhood
And only silence is shame
With me I have my love, my innocence,
The workers, and the poor
For all of this I'm safe and strong
And hope is mine
Rebellion, revolution don't need dollars
They need this instead
Imagination, suffering, light and love
And care for every human being
You never steal, you never kill
You are a part of hope and life
The revolution goes from man to man
And heart to heart
And I sense when I look at the stars
That we are children of life
Death is small
I'll omit part 3 (for now)as it's just too heart wrenching. Instead raise your fist in the air, sing along and remember:
Here's to you, Nicola and Bart
Rest forever here in our hearts
The last and final moment is yours
That agony is your triumph
I
"Give to me your tired and your poor
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me."
Blessed are the persecuted
And blessed are the pure in heart
Blessed are the merciful
And blessed are the ones who mourn
The step is hard that tears away the roots
And says goodbye to friends and family
The fathers and the mothers weep
The children cannot comprehend
But when there is a promised land
The brave will go and others follow
The beauty of the human spirit
Is the will to try our dreams
And so the masses teemed across the ocean
To a land of peace and hope
But no one heard a voice or saw a light
As they were tumbled onto shore
And none was welcomed by the echo of the phrase
"I lift my lamp beside the golden door."
II
Father, yes, I am a prisoner
Fear not to relay my crime
The crime is loving the forsaken
Only silence is shame
And now I'll tell you what's against us
An art that's lived for centuries
Go through the years and you will find
What's blackened all of history
Against us is the law
With its immensity of strength and power
Against us is the law!
Police know how to make a man
A guilty or an innocent
Against us is the power of police!
The shameless lies that men have told
Will ever more be paid in gold
Against us is the power of the gold!
Against us is racial hatred
And the simple fact that we are poor
My father dear, I am a prisoner
Don't be ashamed to tell my crime
The crime of love and brotherhood
And only silence is shame
With me I have my love, my innocence,
The workers, and the poor
For all of this I'm safe and strong
And hope is mine
Rebellion, revolution don't need dollars
They need this instead
Imagination, suffering, light and love
And care for every human being
You never steal, you never kill
You are a part of hope and life
The revolution goes from man to man
And heart to heart
And I sense when I look at the stars
That we are children of life
Death is small
I'll omit part 3 (for now)as it's just too heart wrenching. Instead raise your fist in the air, sing along and remember:
Here's to you, Nicola and Bart
Rest forever here in our hearts
The last and final moment is yours
That agony is your triumph
Monday, September 06, 2010
* Allegedly
Well the lawyer says I'll be mostly ok if I insert the words 'allegedly' and 'some people say' in some stragetic positions around the last blog entry. That and completely erase the stuff about Trafigura.
Jeez.
Hey don't mess with the boys in blue. They're pretty handy. 'Resisting arrest' my arse! You try keeping still when you've had to eat that much Crack-Cocaine and LSD at once. Lucky they didn't find the nuclear stuff. Amateurs.
I've said too much.
Jeez.
Hey don't mess with the boys in blue. They're pretty handy. 'Resisting arrest' my arse! You try keeping still when you've had to eat that much Crack-Cocaine and LSD at once. Lucky they didn't find the nuclear stuff. Amateurs.
I've said too much.
Andy Hayman is a bent copper *
Some people say...
Andy Hayman is a bent copper and Simon Harwood is a fucking murderer. Actually Hayman's not a total stranger to the whole murdering innocent people game neither. Come on police! We pretty much all accept that it's better to live in a society of laws that protect us all and that we should respect those who have to enforce these laws. This is made sooooooo much harder when the police (and this is a crass generalisation as there are thousands of them) seem to act like a tribe. It's not them and us. We're not your enemy. We look to you for protection. Now go and arrest Hayman! He's a crook. He's making you all look bad!
As usual I did consider ceasing this thing. It's been hard to get any gumption together what with cancer scything its way through those I love. I don't want to talk about it but I sure am thinking about it. Everything else seems so trivial by comparison but in a fit of recklessness and to lash out at someone I thought I'd come on and slag off some cops. Cowardice and sense will probably kick in before too long and I'll wipe all this before I end up in klinky for something or other, after all as Joan Baez points out in The Ballad of Sacco & Vanzetti Part II; 'Police know how to make a man a guilty or an innocent.' However this is a genuine appeal. I mean I may have some issues with some specific laws but really and truly I totally hate criminals despite the way popular culture seems to applaud them. The thing is, the criminals who are actually any good at it are at the apex of our society and therefore there's nothing we can do about them. If they want Andy Hayman to write a bullshit column for them all we can do is just sit there and take it.
Unless.......
Hello...who's this crashing through the door? Fuck me! That was quick, I hadn't even finished yet!
Andy Hayman is a bent copper and Simon Harwood is a fucking murderer. Actually Hayman's not a total stranger to the whole murdering innocent people game neither. Come on police! We pretty much all accept that it's better to live in a society of laws that protect us all and that we should respect those who have to enforce these laws. This is made sooooooo much harder when the police (and this is a crass generalisation as there are thousands of them) seem to act like a tribe. It's not them and us. We're not your enemy. We look to you for protection. Now go and arrest Hayman! He's a crook. He's making you all look bad!
As usual I did consider ceasing this thing. It's been hard to get any gumption together what with cancer scything its way through those I love. I don't want to talk about it but I sure am thinking about it. Everything else seems so trivial by comparison but in a fit of recklessness and to lash out at someone I thought I'd come on and slag off some cops. Cowardice and sense will probably kick in before too long and I'll wipe all this before I end up in klinky for something or other, after all as Joan Baez points out in The Ballad of Sacco & Vanzetti Part II; 'Police know how to make a man a guilty or an innocent.' However this is a genuine appeal. I mean I may have some issues with some specific laws but really and truly I totally hate criminals despite the way popular culture seems to applaud them. The thing is, the criminals who are actually any good at it are at the apex of our society and therefore there's nothing we can do about them. If they want Andy Hayman to write a bullshit column for them all we can do is just sit there and take it.
Unless.......
Hello...who's this crashing through the door? Fuck me! That was quick, I hadn't even finished yet!
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