Guestbook tomfoolery

I see that the 21 tandem repeats site has become the victim of some tomfoolery. What goes around comes around EH!

Spoken like a fine Canadian kid. My finger is a little sore as Shockk and I spent the day recording in my here place. I have an Artist live work studio, and today it saw the business end of some work. What a stellar drum sound one gets in here. A big part of me wants to leave the setup so that we can shock back some 21Tr tracks... but I can't see the wife liking that vibe when she gets back next week.
Women get all silly when drum kits get set up in the living room... they get that "you are being so impossible" look in their eye. They pretend the that kind of stuff is really cool when you first meet them, but then the reality sets in. They have the strange idea that the house should be in fine form in case somebody were to come over and walk in... What would they see? Would it be a reflection of the way one lived.
Don't get me wrong, I love my wife, and everything is just hunkey dory... what the heck does Hunkey dory mean or at least where did that come from?

A story.

One of the more insane maniac people I know by the name of Fire-Man was out for a walk with me and we happened upon a house with a large double lot filled with all kinds of rusty old metal things and other heaps of tires, wood and mechanical parts. I was looking at the heap thinking "Holey crap CT would just flip if she had to deal with that". Just as I had finished that thought Fire-Man let out a jealous moan and said "OOHHH the things a man could do with that stuff".

Indeed

Super robertoean here

Wanted to have a new post to put that last post... I mean blogaroo, not post, further down.
I never feel to great about raging on, even though I am a man who covets his "rage hero's". Not to mention that I have learned to accept that being a jackass is not always the disaster it's billed to be.
Sure nobody wants to be called a Jackass and have it meant with all the hate that it comes with. People have to settle down. Lets face it we are a nation of jackasses eagerly hoofing away at the earth that supports us causing a noxious dust cloud and then wondering "Why Me? How did this happen? Somebody better do something?".
I got one for you... how bout a nice hay sandwich jack.
Sure we can drive down to the mall... I gotta go there anyway, hell it will only take a 1/2 hour to find parking and in that time we can just idle away.
Woops I was gong to not rage on...

The Toronto maple leafs stomped the new York Islanders 9-6 earlier tonight... sounds like they both got stomped but the leafs stomped harder. nothing like that high scoring "new" NHL to make you feel good about yourself and your choice of products.

Let me know if I'm pissing you off...

Let me know if I'm pissing you off...

I use to say that to people as i snapped my fingers in front of their faces at a rate of 64 snaps per minute. Might i add that i didn't need an answer.

the lesson is : Always respect yourself!

For if you don't, others won't.

If you didn't want somebody to do something that doesn't fit with your art then you actually have to tell them... how are they to know you don't want incessive horn blasting (in F) over you entire song?

Maybe you "need" to be harassed all night long about the possibility of getting somebody some stage time?

And then we get into the idea of: What is art?

Let's not define that bad boy on a late Monday Night.

The point is that i did snap in peoples faces for some time, and now i have learned.

This is surley a "see the wrong in them and change, and they will notice nothing and contunie to do the same pushing the bounderies further" moment.

My voice if Hoarse

The Question is?
Why is my voice hoarse?
Well that looks odd... 2 lines with 2 question marks looks very odd indeed.
Not written with a pencil, not planted like a seed.

What the hell, am i god damm Dr. Seuse... how the fuck do you spell Seusse?

Well the answer was... I was Hoarse because of "computer log in errors" that i guarantee have some sort of fuckery as part of the overall package.

I hate the internet yet i sit here like a fool (well pacing a lot as well... which i might add is the cause of this series of fragmented thoughts).

No more horn fucking band shit

No more fucking eyes in my face looking like a promising dog egar for a fine food morsel to wolf back and aggress for more.

Black on bass, Shockk on guitar, me oh my on drums... long ambien simple grooves. possible reprocessing opportunities.

The good news is that i am no longer savagely irritated at the computer but it is time to leave this son of a bitch

Politics is a jackass sport

Politicians are just plain stupid. Stupid in the sense that they will say anything that they think will get them a vote, even if what they are saying is utter nonsense that won't happen.
Take Doctor wait times, every politician is going to tackle that problem by throwing money and legislation at it. Sure sure.

In my society I have a job as a civil servant... well the geniuses up top came up with this "mini -restructure plan", that "wasn't going to affect anybody", except of course me and everybody else I work for. The head honchos who make large salaries (in the company that can't afford to pay it's workers), decided to take my mail route and cut it in half and add a massive driving and heavy lifting portion. It took 4 weeks for my back to go out and after I left the route there have been 2 people on it (for 2 months).
My doctor wrote me a note saying that I was not to do that kind of work and to put me back as a letter carrier. Now when a doctor writes a note it costs $10, the visit itself must cost plenty. Being a person who has had back problems i decided to go on sick days for a week and do my exercises... which is the same thing as physiotherapy only unsupervised and free (note... i do know what i'm doing... i have learned through experience).
Now the company that can't afford our wages, but can afford all kinds of other nonsense, sends me back to my doctor to fill out a maze of a form, which takes a longer visit and an extra $70 for fee paid by the impoverished company.
Then the company health nurse gets invovled and sends new forms with new deadlines... while all the time I AM AT WORK DOING FULL TIME LETTER CARRYING but just not this monster of an over assesed route. Then the person doing my route has a nervous breakdown and needs to go to doctors... meanwhile i have healed myself but i am getting registared mail saying i MUST go to the doctor for another assessment.
I refuse on the grounds that this is insane and a total waste of resources... the union gets involved and says "take time off work... get them to pay you to go to the doctor... it won't cost you anything", which is true if i had no conscience.

so the burracracy feeds itself and starves it's people and the politician crows from a podium that more rules and regulations under "their" principles are the answer.

Indeed.

Use the force

There I was trying to have a relaxing morning when the alarm started beeping... Just one long sharp annoying pulse every 15 seconds. The thins was that CT was using her computer at the kitchen table yesterday and unplugged the alarm to plug in the computer... so what happened now was that the alarm battery was running low so it beeps to irritate the shit out of anybody in the vicinity so as to inspire them to plug the fucker back in.
I was trying to put it out of my mind as I was watching a 8 minute video online. Finally I broke down and went down to plug the bastard in... but it kept beeping... I went through a range of options and it keep beeping. Now I was annoyed you see, and one last beep was the straw that broke the camels back. I got up real close to the inanimate object (alarm control pad) and yelled FUCK OFF! And just then it stopped. There was this calm sort of sense of victory mixing with the residual anger so I figured time for a little blogaroo.

Vancouver

I am currently listening to the Vancouver Canucks/Detroit Red Wings game. Todd Bertuzzi has scored a hat trick... this is good news for any Vancouver fan. Dan Cloutier is back in net (after suffering a concussion a few weeks back).
It is 4-1 Vancouver with 10 minutes left in the third period... make that 8.5 minutes left. The crowd is cheering due to a hard hit (the game is in Vancouver)

Enough about hockey, lets talk about modern art.
I think that one of the great art pieces in this post-modern era must be some hunk of crap out there. The reason is that the piece speaks to all the eras before it by including some reference to all other period pieces.
I know when I'm standing in a gallery ready to fall asleep with one of those pamphlets in my hand I like to know that the creative process of the particular piece has been draconically decided upon with the painstaking dullness that only art can provide.

The goaltender really looks good when he can go post to post like that.... 3.5 minutes to go in the third... Detroit is pressing... the shots are 11-0 this period for Detroit... 3 minutes left. Yzerman is attacking. 2 minutes left. Detroit penalty coming. many fans are leaving now with 1:20 left up by 3 and on the power play... make that a 5 on 3. 52 seconds left the Canucks are 2 men up...
Well they won, and they stopped the red hot Red Wings, thank Christ I'm at home and not downtown right now

Jackass

Some days I don't think that I'm like other people.
I guess we all feel that way every now and then, and I believe a truth to be there. We are all individual with our own set of programming and experience information. We use this information to react to future situations. How we use it differentiates us further.
"The flowers on the floor are very pretty please"
A young girl names Sharon said that one time into an old school tape deck in the living room of a cottage at 15 Balsam drive in Tiny township. Was it possibly the fact that, because it was on tape, I heard it repetitively causing me to remember the moment some 25 years later sitting at my "SUPERCOMPUTER" on a rainy Thursday morning.
Never mind that, I have remembered that often... it was also the fact that my sister pointed out that the sentence was very strange, and mostly because of the word "please".
Wonder where that tape is... probably in the garbage... the place fool people think that old tapes should go. I bet you I have 8-14 albums of song ideas in a box of tapes that I have fought vigorously to keep. There is a law in our house NEVER EVER THROW AWAY TAPES,MEDIA OR MEDIA RECORDING DEVICES. Certain members of my family giggle at that law as if it were a child amusing them. Indeed.
The Jackass has Hay breath tapes were in the garbage outside the sanctuary for about 2 hours... It was ultimately my paranoia that saved them. Don't let them ever tell you paranoia is a bad thing sparky.
The tapes had been turned over to The Mule for mixing but then in what turned out to be one of the more bizarre evenings in this life the tapes ended up back at the sanctuary with myself and Smash for an evening we spent trying to outmaneuver each other. The two of us like rocks set in our position, justifying, simplifying, and at one point I hid one of the tapes that I felt should not be touched. Smash of course had other ideas, and being a man not shy to share those ideas, the plot thickened.
I believe we did some work on Bay City kitty, possibly some other things, but defiantly finding out that it album was done and that it was time to let go.
Looking back it stands as a good release, if perhaps sonically weak (ever ran a 4 track and debated the necessity to retake a song). I say sonically weak in the idea that what hit the tape had extremely low levels. Set against 21 tandem Repeats the ocean is life... which I would call lo-fi, but the levels were pretty good. It has the same "artistic feel"... although I wouldn't put a long extended jam on a record that I was in charge of, not that there is anything wrong with that, but just my preference. Shit man now I am getting into a critique of the various releases... better go now

The next part of the story

My man had some fine bone logic all printed out and lost it all with a bad mouse click. I guess that's why you write stuff and transfer it to this here site.
Oh well there was a part where one sentence had to be left all alone due to the sheer magnitude of its meaning. You would think that if was so great it would be immediately remembered, but I believe what has happened is something all together different. I propose that the thought was so revolutionary, that is genius disappears like a hologram in changing light source angles.
It had something to do with the importance of 2nd impressions, and it's razor truth cut effortlessly through the nonsense known as human interaction.

Well I've been sitting too long

The Lottery

I should start by accepting a defeat in trying to illicit a response from some auto-computer response to blog, leave a website link. It is possible however that I posted that minutes after what I thought to be my post for the day. Sorry, my Blogaroo of the day. And in effect got screened out from a response.
I wanted to talk about the lottery... WHY. Well the biggest Canadian one ever is about to go down in Canada tomorrow so the streets and papers are abuzz with people buying more and more tickets. I figured I would go with the old "a lottery is a voluntary tax" line and belittle some of the fool poor suckers being fleeced of what little they have. Yet they have hope. Where was it that I read that people need only 3 things, something to love, something to do, and to have hope... Which of course is fool nonsense because you ain't going to be doing none of that if you got no food and you are starving to death.
But the typical lottery fool really believes that they are going to win.

"Oh boy, I tell you, first to pay off the debts, pay off the mortgage, and then that's it. Enjoy it. Give it to charities. Then enjoy my life. I've been waiting for a long time," she said.

She has been waiting for a long time has she? Does she have another plan? Does she even exist, or is he just a profile that other news readers will understand?

Clearly I will have to buy a ticket now that I have challenged the omens... The only question will be, do I pick the numbers or do I let the computer do that... Or do I go with 2 sets of numbers... Do I play the extra game since I will have to check the ticket, and will most likely find out, which of course means I MUST. I wonder what lottery terminal I should buy from... Lucky junction down the street or that store that whenever I go in something really amazing and uplifting happens and it just keeps getting stronger and stronger.
Then there was that one in my dream this afternoon. That vivid numerical dream where these same numbers kept jumping out at me over and over again and now their forever burned on my retina's brain center.
Why are the walls melting? What's that behind them?

3 18 33 oh my god I hear the voices... YES YES YES I am the chosen one!!

later chumps

Is it odd

Is it odd that seconds after I post a blogaroo there are 3 comments that happen to be "people" who were checking out the blog and happened to leave a link to their site.

Was the word toothbrush a word to trigger some marketing reaction?

Football, Coach, cheerleaders, cleats, touchdown, tickets, i have lots of money, interested in deals, bus ride, Superbowl.

Go fishing with that Good old S Robertson.

other note Superbowl is not in the dictionary.

I met this weird guy

I met this weird guy who said he smoked a joint before he went toothbrush shopping and in the process was almost sold on one of the various "pulsating" toothbrushes.
They were blowing them out for $6.99.
It was then that i got involved. I immediately started fantasizing about what would have been if I had only gotten into toothbrush design. There are all kinds of neat flaps and flippers and rotating and pulsating heads... Indeed I missed my calling.
Yes sir you see with our new megatron spin eliminator with the special intratooth modules, you'll never have a brighter cleaner smile. It even has a recalculating sensor that will personally adjust to your tooth type. It has one spinning head and one pulsing head and if the dog gets a hold of it then there is a self destruct.

Later out hero was at the checkout with 6 toothbrushes and some chocolate. The young woman at the cash smiles and mentions the irony of the purchases. Our hero follows with some lame banter and then bursts out in a loud cackle... Nothing else is said between the two.

The next interaction occurs out on the street when some jackass sets off his car alarm when something in his pocket pushes the "panic" button.

The panic button is sold to fool consumers who believe that in the event that they are walking to their car and some "bogeyman" were to attack them then they would simply hit the panic button which would set off their car alarm, which would then cause everybody in the area who could hear the alarm to immediately drop everything that they are doing and rush over to the "distress signal" to offer their assistance.

Only it seems that every time that #&*%^#&$# alarm goes off people get angry at the fact that they have been disturbed by some irritating noises and end up having some discourse with the innocent.

life in the rat race

A fresh new week, on a fresh new route (I am a mailman), and a fresh new Super Robertson Supper Show. You could even call this a fresh new blogaroo. Remember that word. I sure do... Not too sure if I give a rat's ass about that word but then I don't really have a rat's ass to give.
I suppose I could go out by the dumpster and bag me a rat, but, I think tonight calls for a little gibberish writing, some tea, a book and a good night's sleep. Not to mention that I don't really have the right equipment to go rat hunting at 8pm on a rainy Sunday evening. One would need a flashlight, some bait and a gun. I don't have all three of those things so we will just forget the rat hunting for now thank you very much.
The Supersimian album is now done. Just what I need, another project... But hey it's in the can all I have to do is try to convince Sim to release it online only and save myself some reproduction costs. Nothing like a new CD in environmentally degrading cellophane. How about 400 in the corner of the room until I move again. Is that a bad attitude?
at least I opted out of the rat hunt.

Mule was wearing a maroon sweater?

I thought he looked great.

I kill myself

It's late, I'm exhausted, and I can't sleep.
I just finished reading a chapter of a book called Monster of God... It's about alpha predators (better known as man-eaters). I read about crocodiles and the poor people that live among them and usually suffer the most tragedy's. A good book indeed... I have been buying a lot of books lately.
The point I was going to get to was that the reason I cannot sleep has nothing to do with the "horror of Man-eaters" but rather the Horror of last nights Super Robertson Supper Show. I would gladly spend a few months being slowly digested in the gut of a large reptile than repeat last nights horror.
I remember the good old Mule said a few years back, commenting on how Roadbed shows tended to be hijacked by trumpet improvisation. He said "you have put your foot down" or something like that, and it is true.
I can no longer allow people who don't know what the fuck they are doing do do it at the Super Robertson Supper show. One idea would be to get another show at the same time on the other side of the city and call it the Super Robertson amateur Hour... It will be like a minor league team in which people who want stage time can take it there in the hopes of impressing and moving on up to the big show.

For the record, when I asked Mule to play drums seconds after he strolled into the Railway club my idea was to play bass and WB to play guitar. It was after he declined that I tried to sell WB at playing in the horn band... Which I thought had merit given his patented snare mastery. But that's all for naught and god knows what I exactly said to him who looked pinned against the wall for my mind was on the lack of good drummers, excess of horns, and presence of an amateur drummer eager to bash away... Not to mention the fact that our Sexy young female singer beat poet songwriter sure to be a star chick hadn't shown up yet and I knew she wanted a soundcheck because she plays to some CD backing tracks. Well she showed up as the show was set to start with some greasy manager and we spent 10 minutes talking about soundcheck possibilities. It would be safe to say that around that time my frustration level rose massively. She needed a soundcheck that would take as long as it would take, didn't want to go on first, and didn't even have the right equipment. Around that time things go weird.
I should have told her sorry you can't play, I told you to come @ 7 for soundcheck, your late and the show has to start... I imagine I would have had a good fight with her manager but surely that would have been a fine entertainment package.

What I should have then done was go up and play "what's in the Bag", or fuse lit bombs, or bay city kitty or something and wait for Hobbs our trusty drummer to arrive... But no I called up the horn orchestra with a bad drummer and me with a heart full of hate honking on some hollowed stick... Thinking great a 10 minute late start and then this... I pulled the curtain quick and cut into "Woodstock"... WB and Hobbs joined in and we were up and running. Now in my mind at that time and knowing what a clown show our guest was going to be I figured that there was no way she was going to play, and I actually though she left (but it was just her manager who ran over to the Pic to harass soundman nick for some gear). I tried to explain to the crowd the fiascos, and how we got off to a rocky start... Oh she is still there hiding in the back of the bar.. I see commotion at the soundboard and I figure too many people are involved, I should give her a chance, knowing full well that this is going to be a disaster.

And it was!

Nothing like seeing people leave the room... People who you have never seen before who came down to check out the show stand up and walk out the door shaking their heads... But I needed that you see, I am a nice guy, I let people try things, I show patience and hope and belief on others.

I must become in charge, and it's not ok to fuck up consistently.

all in a days work

I blame the Premier of B.C. for being such a persistent weasel. If it wasn't for him the Teachers wouldn't have been on strike, and if the teachers weren't on strike then the kids wouldn't have been home.
Well they were actually playing road hockey on what would be a quiet Canadian street.. I of course was the innocent Mailman just doing his job and minding his own business, even regretfully declining the first invitation to join the game... And if that fat little kid didn't challenge my skill set with such a cocky tone I probably would have just continued peacefully down Harriet street, and that would have been the end of it.
Indeed... The hairy old mailman had a few moves left in the tank, and all that extra body fat don't do you no good when your flopping around the ground like a walrus.
My team shot out to an early 5-0 lead. I had just assigned the "assistant captain" title to a feisty 7 year old named Danny, taping an A to his jersey when the first infraction occurred.
Fat boy's wheezing brother Abe shot the ball at me during a stop in play... I winked at Danny and turned with the ball on my stick, I called play on, and drilled a hard shot at Abe's neck dropping him to the ground... At first there was no sound, just the violent kicking of legs... And the that whiney voice crying a lost and lonely sound. I went over and poked him with my stick and ordered him to shut up... I had to explain to him that he was a disgrace to the whole sport... He did shut up for the most part keeping it to an intermittent blubbering.
Now I'll give Fat boy credit, he gave me a good chop to the ankle, perhaps as retribution. I even though of letting it slide... But then, what good would that teach him. Sure he is right to stand up for his teammate, but if he thinks that it's going to be a cake walk, that's silly. The world doesn't work on that principle... You got to learn to take your lumps.
So that's why I crosschecked him in the face.
I take it that's when his father and uncle started watching the game. Well they shot out on the street and we had ourselves a real good brawl.. I was actually doing pretty good.. I had the Uncle on the Father and I was working his ribcage... Next thing you know I see a Postal Van and oddly enough my first thought was, EXCELLENT REINFORCEMENTS.
Upon some rather unpleasant discourse it became apparent that my superintendent was actually not there to join into the festivities, but to put a stop to them!
He gets this weird stutter when he gets all mad... He was almost turning pink.
A local dog ended up dragging off my mail satchel to get the dog bones inside.
That really got him going as well.
damn Premier

A Post

Remember when post use to mean Mail, and mail use to be something that ended up in your mailbox, and it wasn't some offer for an introductory credit card interest break.

I guess post still means all that but it also means a little "bloggaroo". Yes, yes now, very funny defining a word with another word that does not exist. We shall define Bloggaroo as a post within a blog.

Check this one... When I spell check with the Blog's own spell checker it does not recognize the word blog. It does not accept it as a word! How can it not be accepted! When does a word become a word. Indeed, we are rapidly evolving... Too fast for sure... The change is too rapid, each generation of humans lives in a different world so that the evolutionary attributes keep changing.

Take a bird with a mutated bill, perhaps the bill will be better for getting seeds of a certain kind, and hence that bird's progeny (should the mutation be passed on) have a specific survival advantage over other birds (easier to access food). Over thousands of generations one would see an evolution to specialize a beak type (as well as some digestive modifications... Less obvious and measurable than a physical beak).

The things the average Human does today( at least in a rich first world nation), have very little in common with what people did 200 years ago. This brings severe consequences... Wait this was to be a positive post

In this bloggaroo we shall talk about Hockey. No matter how much suffering an wrongness there is out there in the world, I , man have a cooling case of beer and a couple games on this afternoon. A Toronto Montreal game then a Vancouver Edmonton game.

Then I will relaunch my Sports column in the LPC and BABOOM! a wonderful fantastic distraction. I can now pick up the paper and hit the sports... Re-read it a few times possibly saving me from hearing about the latest "big idea" come from the braincamp of the world's finest Superpower.

This post sucks.

I am naked

Thinking of a title for today's writing.. I looked around the room and it was going to be Pederson Field Guides, Western Birds, or, I am naked, which I happen to be right now.

Wait I just thought of a game we could play. Open up the Field Guide and I'll tell a story about the time I saw that bird... I guess I'll have to open up the field guide for you... as a side note I just spelt "open" as "poem".

OK here goes... Damn I got the Flycatcher page... those bloody things look all the same. To illustrate this point check this...The Alder Flycatcher can be differentiated from the Willow flycatcher safely "only by voice and to some extent breeding habitat". The second problem is that the damn things stay high up in the trees so you must kink you neck straining through field glasses to see if you are indeed looking at a Hammond's Flycatcher... which is more olive in colour; undeparts more yellowish, with a grayer chest... but if the bird is say dirty, and somewhat indistinguishable from the other species then you can always look at the bill for it is smallish and mostly dark.

When I go birding I call it a flycatcher and save the whiplash for a motor vehicle accident.

Next

damn I got the Oystercatchers... don't think I have ever seen one of those. They would be easy to identify if you did see one. Long legged, long beaked large shorebirds.

try one more

Fucking flycatchers again... this game sucks

SR

"If I were a blogger..."

"If I were a blogger, I would go home and write about Shaun Playing this accordion" Roger dean Young on stage at a copperspine show September 30, 2005.

Put that one in your pipe and smoke it. Indeed, like the old Mule wisdom of "write your little poems, but please keep them to yourself", but yet a bit less poignant.

"If I were a blogger"... Which he might be if it could even crack the top 50 list of things to do.

"I would go home and write about"... Perhaps more a nod to the fact that Shaun just stole the night with an accordion clinic, but also insinuating slightly that if he felt that he had to finish the evening by somehow documenting it in an online journal then that's how he would do it.

But of course he is not a blogger, and has clearly stated his allegiance to the other camp. What a pompous ass! How the hell does he know what a blogger thinks like... O wait, he used "if I" and then "I", so I guess he's ok on that one.

Blogging is a jackass sport
My glasses Molasses
People think me strange
I don't need to know them anymore

Shaun put on a clinic last night with the accordion during the Tin Cup set. The show was a CD release for Lea Amberson. She is really good, unbelievable voice and guitar. A rhythm queen with the talents worthy of Joni Mitchell comparisons. She is going on tour with Roger this week out to Saskatchewan and back. Check the copperspine.com website for dates.

let the sun shine in

Well I had to dry my shoes over the heater for work tomorrow so it looks like I will be up for a little longer. Just enough time for a little update... But what does that mean... Is there such a thing as a little update... Doesn't every update hold the opportunity for a grand diversion into some fine place in the past when there was still more than a shallow pool of hope left. I mean, yes, I did I ever tell you about the guy who I tree planted with, who every so often, would go buzerk and chop a tree down with his planting shovel while screaming obscenities. It was usually the bugs that did it too him... Nothing like a nonstop mosquito attack to slowly wear down a soul.

On thing I have noticed is all of the religious Jesus loving blogs out there. Not that I have anything against Jesus lovers, because after all, I am Jesus.

A heavy statement for a late night, but there are those who recognize this to be true. Ultimately it is no big deal because mankind is too diseased with the love of money it give it's heart to me. I learned from last time that humans want to believe, they don't want to know. The time is coming soon.

Where was I... Oh yea I was enjoying a fit of rage from all of our yesterdays.

Though anger one finds the futility of fight. Love will bring us together once we have lost all of the agents of temptation.

Amen

just to clear a few things up

A Microphone sits on the table, it's head pokes out from behind some headphones. Our hero is clearly out of ideas... but that's how you beat it. Talk about something and you may find a relevant distraction.

That Roger Dean Young dude called me yesterday afternoon to tell me we had a gig last night. We did OK, considering we, the Tin cup (the band that plays for Roger), hasn't seen any action for some time... except of course last week when Roger Dean Young played the Supper Show, but then it was Roadbed as the Tin Cup. Anyhoo... after the show I was walking back to my car and some people thanked me for the music... so that was good.
I feel I should address the fact that I made the paper for exposing my member during the Supper Show... you see IT WAS A BURLESQUE DANCE!

There glad to have cleared that one up.

In other news it's getting late and I have somebody hovering over my shoulder reading what I am writing which is totally distracting my ability to think of anything but snatching an Adam's apple out of a throat and feeding it to somebody.

Well that took care of that.. I'm all alone now... probably will be for some time.

I remember I was communicating with a woman through cyberspace. She had contacted me though the Roadbed website. She was a fan of the band, and of the chronicles I was writing at the time. I sent her a poem and then warned her that POETRY IS A JACKASS SPORT. She was a very pretty woman who seemed cool and intelligent and capable. Then I made a few bad jokes and sort of threatened to kill her shortly after admitting some drug use. Strange thing was that I never heard from her again... and then people started avoiding me... really weird.

Cyberspace can be a dangerous place when you send things without thinking
What might be funny, might not be funny on the other end of the wire

I don't think I can write a song right now... I need some mind focusing time

we will call that an update

Super Robertson Supper Show

The Supper Show... Or should I say the Super Robertson Supper Show. Probably better to go with the latter for the purposes of promotion and pure ridiculousness. "Ridiculousness"... What are the chances of spelling that bad boy right for a stugad in pajama's on a Saturday morning.

Who would have ever thought that it would come to this?
Never ask that question because it makes no good for "the motion of life". Philosophically and annoyingly true one could say that things haven't come to anything but are rather at a stage of the journey.

For example, if I were a Mule Hughes, which I am not, for I am a Super Robertson, then, I would muse more about missing an acoustic Roadbed show with Hobbs drumming and Simian singing than missing a puppet show and a street party. But if a Mule Hughes was a Super Robertson, which he is not, for he is a Mule Hughes, then the sentence structure in this whole paragraph may have worked out much less confusing.

But I was to talk today about the Super Robertson Supper Show. Then I got sidetracked into a little bit of the old "bone" Super Robertson logic that can produce some nuggets of irrelevant truth, if nothing else but fine art compared to the cookie cutter angst that has plagued modern music.

Really going of the deep end today... I apologize my brain is not working today... The thing to do is to delete and start again.
BUT THAT WOULD BE AGAINST THE ETHOS THAT THE CHRONICLES WERE FOUNDED UPON!
To a lesser extent The Super Robertson Supper show acknowledges those principles. For an hour show I like to go for 45 minutes of fine music and then take a little chance with something... Possibly an aerobics class, a Puppet show, a burlesque dance, a legion of flying Monkies Horn orchestra show, some standup comedy.. You get the picture. I think of it like this... For offering some fine music at a reasonable time 7:30 -8:30 PM, at a place where you can have a good dinner at a reasonable price (the Railway Club 679 Dunsmuir) and the whole show being for free. Then all you owe is to bear witness to what might happen.

My WB imitation

Canada's chief public health officer says a global flu pandemic could kill 50,000 Canadians.

"The question of how severe it is, when it comes -- that we don't know," Butler-Jones told The Canadian Press in an interview at the Canadian Public Health Association's annual meeting.

He went on to say that a flu pandemic might infect 30 to 40 per cent of the population during flu season, compared with the usual level of about five per cent.

Having so many people sick at the same time, he said, would have major economic and social impacts.

Public Health Minister Carolyn Bennett, who was also attending the conference, said Canada has adequate stocks of flu vaccine if such an emergency were to occur.

Except for the fact that once people have this flu, a vaccine is useless. Wasn't the point of this warning "one day this will happen regardless".

Which leaves us with the question? Is our health minister severely retarded, or is it just that a life in politics hyper trains an individual to just shit out the "oh we got it all under control" rhetoric.

Jesus, I feel like Willingdon Black posting my wry political commentary on a blog tucked away in the corner of cyberspace.

it is your destiny

Well there was another error that caused me much agony. I used Robertson as part of my username but spelt it Robertaon. This caused all kind of problems signing into this here blog. I came pretty close to calling the whole thing off and even considered smashing the damn computer.
But lets focus on other things rather than "the old rage behavior", even though rage behavior is one of my favorite things. I prefer when other people suffer rage behavior, and I get to just enjoy.
Ever see a hot head swing violently at a wasp flying by, thus angering the wasp, which in turn, presents the hot head with what we in the business call "a sting opportunity". The hot head goes mental once the sting occurs, and usually by then they are tired from swinging a fork (or other object) at the wasp. It was Uncle David who used a fork at our family picnic... He took 2 stings and sent the potato salad flying, and managed to soak his groin in beer... Which had the added affect of attracting more wasps. I am probably the only one in the family who looks back at that time as "one of the greatest dinner's of all time".
The philosophical question that is raised is this. Can you create an unpleasant destiny for yourself?
We know the answer is Indeed.

the first error

The first error is this one... While signing up for this blog I called the website SRCii, obviously meaning the super Robertson Chronicles 2. I meant to use two capitol letter I's, but the whole damn thing defaulted to two lower case I's.
Always a dark omen to go so wrong on your first step. Basically I am trying this new blog format because the old Super Robertson Chronicles was written in Dreamweaver, and as a result has some text transfer problems that came to light, as I attempted to put together a book about the whole damn thing.
Anyhoo we will try this one and see what destiny has in mind.