Lemme 'splain... 

Nobody knows, What kind of trouble we're in. Nobody seems to think, It all might happen again. [guitar solo!]





My Overflow






Ted Barlow




This Modern World

Talking Points Memo

The Onion



Sisyphus Shrugged


The Poor Man

Nobody Knows

River Tech Review


Friday, April 14, 2006

Still looking for donors

A few generous people donated to my documentary way back when, and I still haven't been able to get in contact with them to send them a copy. If you were one of those people, email me at tim at someguyproductions dot com. Please. Sending you a copy is the very least I can do to thank you.

Sunday, January 01, 2006

What bugged me most about 2005

A whole lot of truly awful shit happened in 2005, one of the worst things happened right before the ball dropped, in fact. But you know what still bugs me more than anything else that's happened the whole year, including illegal, impeach-the-fuck, domestic spying? Schiavo-gate.

Nothing quite captured the crepulence of the executive branch, modern GOP, and all the Republicans and "conservatives" out there than Schiavothon '05. Her brain was liquified slush and the president interrupts his vacation for her. He didn't do that when Bin Laden was "determined to strike [the] U.S." Bill Frist gets on TV and commits malpractice in absentia by declaring mush-mind not brain dead. Tom Delay gets on TV and declares she's alert and responsive and doing the hully-gully. Every pundit in the country acts like a complete fuck, every jackass with an opinion suddenly goes Wham! and begs the state to intervene and "choose life".

And then she dies and they perform an autopsy and not only is she certainly a vegetable, she's blind. She was a blind vegetable, pretty much just as every reputable doctor had said from the beginning, and we lived with the hoary-est bullshit imaginable for months, and no one, absolutely no one has paid any price for it. All them fucks basically drew a line in the sand with reason and rationality on one side and complete fuck-o-rama, waste of fucking space on the other, and half the fucking nation chose douchebaggery... and no one looks a fool. It got swept under the rug of polite discourse and no one is calling for the head of Tom Delay, for instance, just on the principal that he told us, point-blank, he's a complete and utter fuck.

Still bugs me. It illustrates better than anything what a cesspool of bastardized morality this country has become. Happy new year, fuck-land USA.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

The time I met John Lennon.

I was working at a barbeque joint in Seattle and this guy walks in. He was just another guy, I didn’t know him or anything, and he asked me, in this weird, kind of short-bus voice, “What’s good, brother?”

I didn’t know how to answer those kinds of stupid questions, I still don’t, so I just said, “Pretty much everything.”

After a couple interminable minutes of this guy humming and hawing (literal vocalizations) and saying things like, “Slicing the pork, eh? Maybe the pork slices you!” and, apropos of nothing, “How do you think an inside-out cactus would feel?” he finally settles on the baby-back ribs (“I hope they’re not offa my baby! Baby!”)

“What sides would you like with that?”

“What are the choices, Finnegan?”

“We have all of them listed right up there on the wall”, I said, pointing.

“Didn’t yer mum ever tell ya’ it’s not polite to point, mate?”

I stare with my dead-eyes.

“Mine neither, Stever.”

Another couple minutes later and he settles on the baked beans and coleslaw (“The make-means and Copeland-slaw, please!”).

“Mild, Medium or Hot sauce?” I ask.

“Oh, no hot sauce.”

“It’s not hot sauce, it’s barbeque sauce. It comes in mild, medium or hot.”

“Oh, no hot sauce”, he protested.

“It’s barbeque sauce. You can get it in mild or medium if you want.”

“Not hot.”

“So mild? Medium?”

“No hot sauce”, he repeated.

“It’s not hot sauce. It’s barbeque sauce.”

“Oh. Well then, how hot’s the medium?”

“Not very hot.”

“But is it hot?”

“I don’t know if you’ll think it’s hot. ‘Hot’ is a relative term. If you’re really sensitive then you might think it’s hot. Most people don’t find it very hot, though.”

“But I don’t want hot sauce”, he told me. Again.

“So Mild, then”, I squeezed out of my rage-contracted lungs.

“Well how hot’s a mild hot sauce, brother? I mean, can you even call a hot sauce mild? Seems rooty-tin fruity ta’ me, mate.”

A moment passed as this pale, stove-pipe hatted (did I mention he was wearing a stove-pipe hat?), thick-glasses wearing, long velvet coat havin’ apparent retard and myself locked stares across a 2 foot icy abyss of countertop filled with chile fixins, hot sauce, cactus refrigerator magnets (Oh! That’s where the cactus comment came from), and laminated menus. I looked deep into his brown eyes, searching for a spark of humanity, or suffering, or intelligence; something that would make me think twice about leaping over the counter and crushing his bony nose with my fist then boot. Somewhere off in the background, probably the kitchen now that I think about it, a Bob Willis and the Texas Playboys song played. Something to do with the range and the cattle.

“I love this old hangy-bangy American music. It’s like the church choir got to the drink!” he popped, slicing through the tension.

“The mild barbeque sauce will be in a separate cup. If you don’t like it you don’t have to use it.”

The bastard ate, happily. He came up halfway through his meal and said he wanted to try the medium hot-sauce, because the mild hot-sauce wasn’t very hot and it was “queer” that we called it “hot-sauce” at all. Then he stepped outside and got shot.

Well actually, that would have been very dramatic but really he stepped outside and got into a cab. But this was just about a week before he died. When I heard he got shot, this is after I learned who he was, I wasn’t sad or anything, even though I was a fan, because I was still mad about the whole hot-sauce thing. To this day when I think about it I get so angry.

Anyway, after he left the cook comes over and says, “Jesus Christ! Did you know who that is?”

“Do you know who that was?” I corrected, as far as I know.

“That was fucking John Lennon, man.”

“Oh shit! The Beatles!”

“Yeah. What did you say to him? What did he say?”

“He… he said…”

“Yeah? What?”

“He said, ‘What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding’?”

“Wow. Wise man.”

“Yeah. Truly.”

Lucky for me the cook didn’t know that’s an Elvis Costello song.

I couldn’t break it to him his idol was just another slag who couldn’t manage to order a freaking rib-platter despite stereoscopic vision and an apparent grasp of human abstractions. The legend is perhaps better than the man, after-all. I mean, I didn’t mention this before but he had a big brooch on his jacket, about 5 inches across, that spelled “Elvis” in diamonds. What up with that?

Years later, while thumbing through Newsweek, I learned he wrote a song about our meeting. It was an old interview reprinted, and he was describing exactly our meeting in a Seattle “rib-joint” and how the back-and-forth inspired him to write a song. There it was, in such detail it could have only been me: Seattle. Baby-back ribs. Cactus magnets. Baked-beans and coleslaw. Mild hot-sauce. (The only thing different is he made me black, but I’d chalk that up to artistic license)

I had inspired a John Lennon song. Amazing. And to think I would have stabbed him in the belly given a chance.

The song came too late to be on Double Fantasy and was supposed to go on Milk and Honey. Of course John died so Yoko was left to finish the album, and she didn’t like the song so it didn’t make it there, either. I keep waiting to see it on a compilation. It’s called “Hot Mustard Man.”

Yeah. I don’t get it either.

R.I.P, Johnny boy.

Friday, October 21, 2005

Is this some kind of a fucking joke? Is this 2002?

Bush Calls for U.N. Action Against Syria.

President Bush on Friday said the U.N. should deal quickly and seriously with a report implicating Syria in the assassination of Lebanon's former prime minister, a killing that led to protests and withdrawal of Syrian troops from Lebanon after nearly 30 years as overlord.

"The report strongly suggests that the politically motivated assassination could not have taken place without Syrian involvement," Bush said.

I got a report for you, asshole... The last 4 fucking years!

"Today a serious report came out that requires the world to look at very carefully and respond accordingly," Bush said.
The Security Council, which can impose political and economic sanctions, was already scheduled to meet next Tuesday to consider the report from German prosecutor Detlev Mehlis. The U.S. mission said Friday it had no plans to call for an earlier meeting time.

Separately, the U.N. will soon receive another report on Syrian compliance with last year's U.N. demand that it quit Lebanon and allow political self-determination there.

Rice, on a trip to Tuscaloosa, Ala., said, "Accountability is going to be very important for the international community."

Rice and British Foreign Secretary Jack Straw, with whom she was traveling, called on Syria to show good will toward Lebanon by establishing diplomatic relations with the country. Syria must "fully understand" that it must not intervene in Lebanon and must respect its sovereignty, Rice said at a joint news conference.

Rice gave no hint what plans the United States has for a Security Council meeting on Syria. The issue must be thoroughly debated, she said.

The council "will have no real credibility if it does not take seriously the implications of this report," Rice said.

Accountability? Credibility? Jesus christ, are you kidding me?

Bush and Rice talking about accountability and credibility? That's like Jessica Simpson talking about her muse.


Why doesn't everyone laugh at these people? Why doesn't the UN just sit back and fucking guffah and say "OK, OK, seriously. Let's talk serious about this. We appreciate the comic relief, US, but we need to get serious".

"We are serious! Accountability! Credibility!"

"Hahahahahaha!!! OK, OK. Enough. Sit down you assholes."

Jesus Christ. It's like living in a cheap joke shop.

Saturday, October 01, 2005



That is all.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

The documentary is done.

Three people generously gave me some dough way back when and I've tried to contact all of them but have only hear back from one. If you were one of the two other people, email me and let me know your address. I want to send you a copy.

Friday, September 09, 2005

I want to cry.

I'm a terrible blogger and no one reads it anyway so I stopped writing, but mostly because it became so pointless. Every day, every single day some new bit of policy, some new line of rhetoric, some new occurance that effects the whole country in some way and it's complete shit and spawned from the minds of insane, corrupt, evil men. It gets tiring.

"Oh, Cheney ate the heart of a child on TV to illustrate how we need to change social security? Gee, big surprise."

What's the point? Everything the Bush administration does is the worst thing they could do, I mainly just used this sucker to blow off steam, I ran out of steam.

And now we have, again, another tragedy that reeks of opportunity. We're going to waste it. We're not going to take this chance at self-reflection and learn anything about how this nation treats its poor and helpless or how we've been fucking black people for a couple hundred years now non-stop. We're not going to look at our tendency to be short-sighted when it comes to infrastructure, both human and physical, and we're not going to wake up to Republicans' incredible abililty to be extremely far-sighted when it comes to ruining the planet. We're not going to realize, finally, that president Bush is a complete fuck and his administration is a bucket of fuck.

Nope, we're going to give some money, feel good for a while, then we're going to vote Republican and let them do whatever they want to do. And lock the gates. Because there's poor black people out there.

We are the stupidest population on the planet. I'm really starting to just hate this country. Well, I do hate 30% of it (Bush's base- Fuck you!), and another 30% I'm sick of (the disinterested masses - Pull your head out! And Fuck You too!), and then there's my neighbors (jesus fucking christ! Learn how to drive and turn down your fucking music!), but that' about it. I still like the land, and about 30-40% of the population so... god what's my point? Bush, if you really think about it, is the perfect presidennt for this country. He's as crepulant as his base and as disinterested at the next 30%.

We're fucked. Say hello to president Frist M.D.!

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