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September 2005
Thursday, September 29th, 2005

Yo, fellow noisemaker, weakchin and labelmate BECK! How are you, my blondey bredren? Good I hope. But listen – I just thought, you know, as a Scientologist, you’ve got a long road a ahead of you. There are many tests, and teachings, and stages you have to go through, before you get to the top, and that final answer. Hell, you might not MAKE the top. Then where will you be? Half the answer is no kind of Answer, right? So, I figured I’d help you out, let you skip all the crap – basically, they’ll fuck your brain, and dig up every “bad” thing they can find about you for future blackmailing purposes,, (you’ll know that bit by now) and reprogramme you, then right at the, end, they’ll hit you with this: OT VIII B. Hubbard’s final truth.

Hubbard thinks he’s Satan.

Serious! That’s it! Go check it, and be thankful you never wasted all that time, and go back to humping fine celebrity ass like Winona Ryder (no disrespect honey, yours is some Skygoshdarned fine celeb ass. Thassall.)

Now, we’ve seen this story before.

Crazy how weird cults set up by dudes bent on world domination turn into actual, popular, RELIGION, innit? How what seem at first inspection, basically, some good guides for living a decent life, end up corrupting, debasing, and eventually enslaving a whole bunch of people, whilst simultaneously advancing the goals of power-mad occultist nutbars.

FORSOOTH!

So, they’re totally setting Megaman up. Now, they’ve got in a translator, to make clear some of the Yardier lyrics from the first two So Solid records, to “prove” that Mega’s into slaying. Fucking jokes!

Saw Jimmy and Co. up at Interscope today. All agree that the songs are dope. People seem to like Clones, Oh, London, Bankers and AIDS best initially – although not everyone clocked the sarcastic nature of the AIDS chorus initially. Not everyone does. Did I tell you about that guy who was freaking out at me after the Cargo gig? That was one upset dude. He was all, “how could you SAY such things?” I was all, How could I NOT?

Danny and I were up on Mullholand Drive watching Hollywood (well Chatsworth) burn earlier, as another freak-eyed Bush crony was caught with his trotters in the collection plate. It was strangely beautiful. More so was San Fernando Valley, viewed from above. It loooks like some crazy alien city. I will dream of it, certainly.

— Thursday, September 29th, 2005

Wednesday, September 28th, 2005


This song is giant and sorrowful. My trosers don’t fit me no more. The Wacom Tablet is bringing me joy. I recorded Bravecaptain’s song, but still need to edit the fucker. It is well fucking fast.

And I am going to see Mr Iovine today and play him my new songs. Bet he likes AIDS best. Most people seem to.

Over and out, busy busy…

— Wednesday, September 28th, 2005

Tuesday, September 27th, 2005

“All who are under the yoke of slavery should consider their masters worthy of full respect, so that God’s name and our teaching may not be slandered. Those who have believing masters are not to show less respect for them because they are brothers. Instead, they are to serve them even better, because those who benefit from their service are believers, and dear to them. These are the things you are to teach and urge on them.”
1 Timothy 6 (New International Version)

I saw two shooting stars last night
I wished on them but they were only satelites
It’s wrong to wish on space hardware
I wish I wish I wish you’d care
Billy Bragg

I went to my first LA bar tonight. It was very enjoyable. I met some 9 Black Alps and a nice Interscope man and some nice Radiohead managing Britishers and a funny girl from San Fran and a boy who fancied himself as Mark Whalberg. Steve The Jeweler is safer than fuck. And I had no idea the tabloid swine had been implicating Mick Jones in this “model does cocaine” lunacy. Mick Jones is as lovely as love itself. Head up dude, fuck those fools, they don’t come close. They can’t touch you. Don’t let them even think they can.

And I saw the new Curb! All hail! Formulaic, but HAIL ANYWAY!

Man, the Bloodhound Gang Album is amazing! It’s up there with the GLC and Damian Marley albums, in the New Records Of 2005 I Play Repeatedly list.

“If I wanted to be repeatedly shit on I’d go make Dutch porn.”

“We are Sir David Of Brent.”

Etc.

Long live Jimmy Pop.

She who I would call Baban thinks I’m going to hell. Me and the vast majority of the world. But she doesn’t mind. She won’t miss us, she said, because heaven is “perfect”.

But I’m not going to “hell”, honey! And I’m not going to “heaven”!

I’m just Going.

Hell is here. So is heaven. We have control over both. Now. Right now. The are reigns we can grab, if we stop thinking we are glued to the horse, and the only way we can get to the a nice place is by saying nice, but essentially insincere things about the horse’s dead great-great-great-great-great-etc Grandpa.

That’s a sucky metaphor, I know. But so what? We are, as the brilliant Ultrasound sang, All In The Same Gang. I can’t take “God loves us all equally” as an excuse for Pat Robertson and Henry Kissinger anymore. I will say, death loves us all equally – so the time to act upon the world of the living is DURING IT. If you think you’re gonna be sat at a big-ass banquet with John Lennon and Mother Teresa basking in perfectness for all eternity while the rest of us burn, and the WORLD IN ACTUALITY is raped and desecrated by liars claiming Christianity who wouldn’t look at another man’s foot, let alone wash it, you are no more Christian than George W Bush is.

Despite what you may have gleaned from some of my angrier posts, I do not “hate Christians” (I don’t hate anybody, actually) – Christ was a fucking DUDE – a true revolutionary who believed in love, and humanity, and the power, that some will call God, and others will call Chi, and others something else, that is in us all… but I resent those who have hijacked this thing of freedom and peace, and I resent those that will sit idly by and condemn me and my dead babies to hell, and pray for Henry Kissinger and Rupert Murdoch. And I resent those that believe that this all powerful God needs “Christians” to channel his Awesome Power through. The vast majority of humankind, they will never hear of Christ. But they will hear of women and men of similar stock, with similar love for humanity, and those women and men may or not be inspired to shake their chains as a result, and they are not going to “Hell”. The hell they will inhabit is one of our making. Yours and mine. Every day we sit idly by and think all will be sorted by the great Scorer at the moment of death’s embrace, is another day of Actual Hell for our brothers and our sisters.

I don’t know why I think of this now, but I do:

“I did not know and I could not see
Who was waiting there
Who was hunting me.”
Leonard Cohen

— Tuesday, September 27th, 2005

Monday, September 26th, 2005

“We’re an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality. And while you’re studying that reality – judiciously, as you will – we’ll act again, creating other new realities, which you can study too, and that’s how things will sort out. We’re history’s actors… and you, all of you, will be left to just study what we do.”
A senior Bush aide, speaking to New York Times Sunday Magazine, September 04

“The most critical factor facing the refining industry on the West Coast is the surplus of refining capacity, and the surplus gasoline production capacity. (The same situation exists for the entire U.S. refining industry.) Supply significantly exceeds demand year-round. This results in very poor refinery margins and very poor refinery financial results. Significant events need to occur to assist in reducing supplies and/or increasing the demand for gasoline.”
From an internal Texaco strategy memo

“US military scientists are working on weather systems as a potential weapon. The methods include the enhancing of storms and the diverting of vapor rivers in the Earth’s atmosphere to produce targeted droughts or floods.”
Dr. Rosalie Bertell in The Times, November 23rd, 2000

So, I went out tonight. Serious! Now, usually, I am in the studio, making noises. Last night was dope for that. Did the vocals for 1234567 with Danny, was ACE on STILTS. Shit sounds so funky. Anyway. Tonight we went for dinner with some jewelry making, movie producing, magazine writing, LA living, channel hopping motherfuckers. Was well fun. And all I am saying is – David Cronenberg plus Martin Amis = HAPPY ME. That is all.

Have I ever spoke about my love of Amis? Prolly. I have never read a bad book by that man. Sure, his working class characters can come off as caricatures sometimes. But so did Dickens’. I am not offended, not when the shit is so good. Dead Babies is still my favourite book. And London Fields… well.

Anyway. In relation to those quotes, I have been getting a lot of email on the subject of weather modification lately. A lot of you want to know if it is real.

It is.

Weather modification technology has existed for a long time. The British and US military got very excited about it in the fourties (“If we had that, we’d have won the war in six years!”), when New Zealand successfully created tsunamis by blowing up stuff underwater. “It’s a bit like sliding backwards and forwards in a bath – the waves grow higher,” said Dr Willem de Lange, of the Department of Earth Sciences, in ’99.

More recently, in his autobiography, Through the Eyes of the Enemy, Lt Col Stanislav Lunev – the highest ranking defector from Soviet military intelligence – spoke of the seismic weapons being developed and tested by the USSR in the ’80s. And Akif Gasanov, a former KGB intelligence officer, became aware of this business 20 years ago, in 1985 (weird how ’85 is 20 years ago huh, fellow Smiths fans?).

“I became aware of this subject quite by accident,” said he. “I was working in the Second Department (counterintelligence) in the linear branch of Western espionage… The information I received seemed fantastic. Certain scientists at the Academy of Sciences were working on problems associated with earthquakes. There was a certain Ikram Kerimov and a group of his associates, the most notable of whom was Dzhafar Dzhafarov, son of Khady Dzhafarov, the well-known [Azerbaijani Petrochemical Institute] professor.

Ikram Kerimov asserted that they could control and initiate earthquakes. Moreover, he said they had theoretical justification for their assertions and were attempting to obtain minimal financing in the academic sphere. In their opinion, there were grounds to believe that a number of earthquakes that had occurred recently may well have been initiated through a remote control device or accidentally triggered directional influence on the Earth’s core.

We collected materials that might prove factually relevant, then drew up and submitted our report to the center…. It would usually take a month or more to process information. On this occasion, however, we received a conclusion very quickly. The assessment was fairly high for internal USSR information. It was treated as intelligence information. There was an immediate request to prepare the most extensive possible analytical reference package on the material and send it to the VPK (military-industrial complex). As a result of VPK study, a very high assessment was given. Scientists were then brought to Moscow to elaborate the subject matter. According to main information, an outstanding environment was created for them. They were afforded almost unlimited financing and the ability to conduct experiments.

In the late 1980s, a series of earthquakes took place encompassing a vast territory — from India to Central Asia. Accusations of the use of tectonic weapons and directed towards the Soviet Union appeared in the Western press at that time. Our scientists who had participated in the development of tectonic weapons declined to give a response to all questions dealing with the nature of these earthquakes.”

Here in the US, HAARP has been publicly doing it for a long time. The bill making it legal was a recent congress boredom. in 1996, an Air Force research paper entitled Weather As a Force Multiplier, called for an examination of “the concepts, capabilities, and technologies the United States will need to remain the dominant air and space force in the future”

Forsooth:

“US aerospace forces can “own the weather” by capitalizing on emerging technologies and focusing development of those technologies to war-fighting applications. Such a capability offers the war fighter tools to shape the battlespace in ways never before possible. It provides opportunities to impact operations across the full spectrum of conflict and is pertinent to all possible futures. The purpose of this paper is to outline a strategy for the use of a future weather-modification system to achieve military objectives rather than to provide a detailed technical road map.

A high-risk, high-reward endeavor, weather-modification offers a dilemma not unlike the splitting of the atom. While some segments of society will always be reluctant to examine controversial issues such as weather-modification, the tremendous military capabilities that could result from this field are ignored at our own peril. From enhancing friendly operations or disrupting those of the enemy via small-scale tailoring of natural weather patterns to complete dominance of global communications and counterspace control, weather-modification offers the war fighter a wide-range of possible options to defeat or coerce an adversary.”

I love that “some segments of society” bit.

Anyway. Those Texaco guys need worry no more. Reports are coming in of the oil lords already cutting refinery capacity in anticipation of the storm. If this turns bad we’re looking at $5.00 or more per gallon of gasoline, rationing, lines and runs on fuel, natural gas & fuel oil price gouging. Not to mention the horrifying loss of human life when Rita rips through. I truly hope nothing comes of this, and it passes on by. It just feels as if we’re pins awaiting recurrent bowling balls.. Yes.

So, those SAS guys that the British busted out with tanks? There’s an arrest warrant out for them. Notice the BBC’s reticence to mention they were dressed as Arabs. In fucking WIGS.

But anyway. There are a few reasons I might look forward to returning to England. They are few. And they involve people. Persons. Basically. Just a few. It is easy, when ensconced in sound, and activity, to forget such things. I always did that – surrounded myself in activity, with a conclusion somewhere in the future. And it always kept my mind off the rottenness I was in. And now, I am not in rottenness – I am temporarily (i hope) skint, but that is not what it was. Back in the day, I had to do terrible things to pay £35 rent. Now, the rent is past due, and I go, “nih”. I don’t debase myself and others to meet that end, because I no longer have to. Maybe I will again. Maybe. I hope not. But. I don’t know that. Still.

Still.

They are arresting people in London, on the tube, for having laptops, under the guise of anti-terrorist activities. Then they search their homes. Then they keep their laptops.

They kept my laptop, I’d be fucked. I use that thing a damn sight more than I use my penis. And they’d find plenty in it, in line with the current UK ideas of what terrorism construes. I have no bomb making kits. But I have plenty of writings concerning a mistrust of that government. And that is enough, now.

US TV is full of Nazi documentaries. I see them – Danny Saber, a good Jew is obsessed – and I see us, and I laugh, a cold, dead, dry laugh.

A question – when you saw The Graduate, did you see him run into the church, or crash in with a hang glider?

It is an important question. I’ll tell you why another day.

Oh, one more thing – expect an earthquake in San Francisco anytime soon. Aside from the new things I hear, Jeb Bush has been hinting at it for ages.

So it goes, eh?

— Monday, September 26th, 2005

Thursday, September 22nd, 2005

So, I’m back in La La, holed up in Danny Saber’s crib with him and his lovely wife Helen and their uber-randy dog Wolfie, who licks my face and has sex with stuffed hedgehogs and shit. We’re working on 12345767, my super funky Organised Religion song, which is getting the P FONK treatment. I finished Genocide, my self-produced/engineered/writ/mixed/played ode to Mass Death, and that is a pretty horrible thing, and I am amid Bravecaptain’s Jerusalem and the Clones animation, which has to be finished next week, eek, stress, terror etc.

So, I was reading news the other day, and I came across that thing about the British Military storming that prison in Basra and breaking out two SAS dudes. Now, that seemed pretty weird right away – how do you claim to have handed over “sovereignty”, then bust soldiers out of jail with TANKS?

Well, it turns out, the dudes in question were arrested for firing on Iraqi police, while – get this – dressed as Arabs, car full of explosives. Wigs and everything, like in Team America. Only, not doing “durka durka whattagwan”, but going, “durkadurka we are insurgents have some BOOM BOOM and let there be civil war, asshole!”

Now, I wrote previously that all this anarchy is actually GOOD for the occupying forces, that what appears to have been a war with no post-invasion plan was actually no such thing, for a number of reasons. The oil-related destabilisation of China. The fractioning of the occupied masses. Like: so that they fight among themselves, rather than kicking out the British and American Imperialist looterswine. Etc.

Anyway, as ever, Jeff Wells and his peoples have put it better than I ever could. So check it out. And think about 777 in relation. You think the British would never engage in such nastiness? That they haven’t been caught doing it countless times? That they won’t again?

This is a war. Always has been. But it’s us, the people, the subjects, they’re at war with. And we, goons that they made us, are at war with ourselves, and each other.

Once you cop that, shit becomes a lot easier.

RIP King Rebel. OG Don. Chip-master. Scourge of the sleepers. Champion Of Fun. The legacy lives on.

— Thursday, September 22nd, 2005

Tuesday, September 20th, 2005

Well, I have been very busy, thank you, and somehow that has lead to this being the 20th of September, the day of my eviction. Well, not eviction. But my time in this apartment I have come to love so is over, finish-ed, done. No longer will I awake to the sight of men in overalls hitting things with hammers outside my window. No longer will I gaze seven stories down at the Strand bookstore, no longer will I gaze at the window of the comic shop on my way back from the shop, paper bag full of vegetable juice and pretzels and water under my arm. No more buying records off of rappers in the street, no more talking with the doormen, who I am very fond of now, no more popping outside to listen to a rally and get glared at by coppers.

No more nude pincer sit uppy things to Damian Marley with the aircon on full blast. No more Daily Show, no more screaming at the dream-stealing white liar on BET in the whee hours. No more sitting up alone till 7am writing songs and balking at websites. No more rapping in the shower, water drilling a happy hole through my skull. No more waking up lying sideways across this goliath bed, twisted up in a river cotton. No more piles of fresh towels. No more Leonard Cohen waking the neighbours. No more 12th and Broadway. That’s that.

It’s La La land again, for me, where I shall be staying with mister Danny Saber and making more noises. My session with James finished at 7am on Sunday morning. It came out pretty much perfect. Jeff was still drunk, and the steak we ate in that posher place with Taj and all the funny lady trainers, (one of whom told me she was an uptown girl! Woh-oh-oh-woh-oh-oh-ow! Another record related childhood thing sorted!) had done strange things to my brain. Plus I saw Madison play earlier and it was kind of awesome – and terrifying and deeply unsettling, and I’d spent four hours in the afternoon running around blazing Manhattan trying in vain to purchase a 16 volt adapter in an orange boiler suit, so I felt weird and woke up and got a tattoo. And Amy made my hair white.

I should be out with Spiky tonight, but I am packing and editing vocals. I’ve hardly been out at all the whole time I’ve been here, which is a marked improvement on my last visit, which found me emerging from dank holes in the Lower East side blinking at the sunlight too often for anybody’s good. Anyway. I will be back in a few weeks, to work with Emile, and go to the fair on Coney Island.

So, Jeff rang me earlier, saying they’d had a bunch of people from a charity on TV saying the National Guard were stopping them getting supplies to people in Mississippi. The weird thing was though, was the Scientologists were already in there, FEMA approved, giving out Massages.

I think those people are still banned from France you know.

Still there’s a lot of them in LA LA land.

Sweeet.

So, this guy is the guy who’s up on Black Entertainment Television every night from 1 am onwards, demanding my money for “Jesus”. He says that New Orleans was sinful, and if we give him money (“a thousand bucks for Jesus! That’s nothing! And sister, brother, call now and get this free prayer hankercheif, blessed by me!”), that will sort out our sin issues, and we won’t get no damnationing and shit. Goon that I am, I sat there watching this dude for like an hour one night, getting frustarted and emotional, when I should have been answering email, or drawing, and I even phoned the number on the screen to ask his name, cos he wouldn’t say. The lady on the phone said God called him, and that he was a special, honest man, and we had a bit of a dialogue, and she cried and shit.

I didn’t cry. Boys don’t cry. Only at the movies.

— Tuesday, September 20th, 2005