Monday, February 29, 2016


Thursday, February 18, 2016


Sunday, February 14, 2016


Saturday, February 13, 2016



I've got Janet Jackson's "nip slip" on VHS. I happened to be recording the Super Bowl that year because my home town knuckleheads the Teutals from OCC were slated to be on a commercial. I was in the midst of negotiating a deal to build a motorcycle that would smuggle bull sperm into Cuba. Suffice it to say it never happened. Those boys got way too big way too fast to deal with. Where are they now? who knows. Last time I saw Mikey he was helping a friend price out putting a roof on my shul. How the mighty..... If I want to relive the glory days of OCC or JJ I slip the tape in the VCR. I did not tape this year's game.
    So when I heard of the shit storm that Beyonce had unleashed with her half time show i was a bit confused. I was awake (I think) and watched Beyonce save the show from that lame-o Chris Martin. She entered the stadium followed by a squad of long legged hotties in black berets and afro wigs. She sang some song (that sounded pretty good) and they all marched off and the game resumed. It was only after the fact that I even got the connection to the Black Panthers. This is the same woman who performed for Gadafi's kin on New Years Eve in St. Barts in 2009, making big bank off of a dictator, for a cameo. Then there's her husband Jay-Z who got in bed with the government/developer complex in order to invoke eminent domain in a Brooklyn neighbor, displacing hundreds in order to put in Barclays Stadium. There was Mr. and Mrs. Z celebrating with Bloomberg and the rest of the power structure. All for a few jobs selling hot dogs and cleaning up after the rich. These people are not only entertainers, they are very....very rich and powerful entertainers.
   To distill the Panthers down to back up dancers in afro wigs and berets at a super bowl halftime show is beyond LUDICROUS! Huey's spinning in his grave. Where's the free breakfast program? Where's the legal defense fund for the disenfranchised? Where's the money you rich fucks? The only thing more pitiful than the 'Yonce biting off BP stylin' is the fact that there is a white people backlash against her performance. Wiki-History has become the norm. I'm already boycotting the Oscars. You can add the 'Yonce to my list. And it's not because she invoked the memory of the Panthers. It's because she did it so poorly.  


Friday, February 12, 2016



It's 9 degrees with a 30 mph wind. The tiny door bell on the bow of THE INGENUE is dinging like lunch time at the deli. I should be in feeding the woodstove. Instead I'm out in the yard placing new objects hither and thither on the snow dappled lawn. It's the life of the outside (not outsider) artist. Like blog writing satiated any latent need I had for publishing, and buying a guitar satisfied my band envy, placing sculptural work in my yard is one of the things that keeps me from complete despondency concerning a lack of audience. Any car that slows or stops to take it in is a potential fan. Why do I need fans? That's another blog entirely.
    DESTINY HATES A LAGGARD is a piece I've I had in mind for a number of years. I want to do a full size mini-dozer on 12"x12" rough cut beams. But right now I don't have the room or the money. So the 1/4 scale is the answer. Once I completed it I actually liked the proportions as much, or more so, than the proposed full scale. FOR THE BIRDS and YARD PICASSO both have elements of old work, that finally coalesced in their present state. And this is where function dictates final form. In that wind there was no way the pieces cold be anchored to the frozen ground without re-design. Hence the stump and table were introduced. As I stood back and admired my handiwork a gust of wind sent the Picasso tumbling. One piece of split ash engaged with gravity to complete the work.
   I really shouldn't be telling you my tricks. Another stiff gust of wind sends the Ingenue against the rocks (springs), the bell sounding frantically. My finger tips are freezing. She slides on roller skates attached to her underside that skirt the 4x4s. Picture a beautiful, long-legged 19 year old girl teetering on high heels, from opening to opening. The YARD PICASSO wobbles but stands firm, a testament to the old Spaniard's aero-dynamics in his sculpture. It's all in the eye placement. FOR THE BIRDS beckons with 2 lbs. of bird seed. My creative juices are flowing.....and freezing on contact. Who knew the arctic vortex would bring it out of me. And the temps. are about to tumble. We're in for a real freeze.  Look out bitches! I'm hot.    


Wednesday, February 10, 2016



Tuesday, February 9, 2016




Ever since my first wife bought OUR BODYS OURSELVES in the early 70's and started quoting Erica Jong and Bella Abzug as foreplay, I've considered myself a Feminist. I've always considered women at least my equals and usually my betters. Men are assholes. Everyone knows it. The fact that they've run the world for so long is undeniable proof to that fact. Famine, terrorism, pestilence, global warming, TV- are all products of a male dominated society. Men are destroying the little green earth at an accelerated pace, most likely too fast to reverse. So when it comes to electing a woman president I'm not only open to the prospect, I'm excited about it. But....... the two women in the running are Hilary and Carly. What's a feminist to do?
    If you are Gloria Steinem you toe the party line. And here is where the so-called feminist leadership loses me. Recently interviewed by Bill Mahr, Ms. S. explained Bernie Sanders' overwhelming appeal to young women like this: " Girls go where the boys are. And the boys are with Bernie." Following her rationale if you are Black you should vote for Ben Carson just because he's Black (I think). This argument is antiquated, limiting and so ridiculous it is no wonder young women are rejecting it. The post-feminist youth knows better than to vote with their dicks and pussies. They are way smarter and better informed than the youth of the 60's and 70's. The internet has taught them all about the history of the Clinton machine, the corporate politics of Fiorino and the cold hearted nastiness of the Republicans. They are anything but silly girls following cute boys to the Sanders rallies. It's insulting for GS to suggest it....not to mention anti-feminist.
   We live in a world of Black Lives Matter, Occupy Wall Street, The New Jim Crow, an unfair Corpocracy that is admittedly run by men. Do we need a woman president? Fuck Yeah! But unless some bright, shining light of estrogen reveals herself in the 11th hour, or Bernie decides on a sex change, becoming the first transgendered/socialist candidate for the highest office in the land, I will not vote with my pussy to elect either Hil or Car. I will vote for Bernie or Bernadette. She's got us girls on her side.  

Monday, February 8, 2016




If you haven't seen the video google Jeb Bush clap. No you won't see Jeb's junk in need of some topical treatment. What you will see is poor Jebbie on stage in New Hampshire, addressing a less than attentive crowd. Judging from the folks seated behind the former Florida Gov., nobody is paying attention to anything Jeb is saying. So when he comes to the end of his thought stream and waits for what he remembers from his written speech- (applause), he isn't even greeted by crickets. He then does something that is so sad, and desperate that even the woman that is picking her nose behind him, wakes up and puts her hands together. He stops, frowns, turns to the audience and pleads "Please clap."
   Here is the former party machine golden boy, the man that a year ago was the predicted front runner in a pack of Republican wing nuts, buried way back in the decimal points, trying whatever he can to get attention. Well, after my initial shock at JB's whiny plea, I started to think more about the purity of this onstage moment. Here's a guy whose father and brother were both presidents, a former gov., who couldn't get laid in a whorehouse. In a field of megalomaniacs who go from bad to worse, the guy with the famous last name, who looks like a Jr. college lit. prof., not only gets no respect, he can't get anyone to even listen to him, let alone vote for him. If pity were votes he'd win in a landslide.
    Any artist who has ever tried to put themselves out on the world stage, any rock and roller who has ever grabbed a mic or strapped on a guitar, done their thing and waited for the approval of the "crowd" can relate to Jeb. Now I'm no Republican, but if I was and I wanted to see JB get some traction here's what I'd do. OWN IT BABY! Start painting those big Bush tour buses with the phrase PLEASE CLAP. It's not too late Jebbie. Send your mother back to Texas, stop shaving, buy a pair of Ray Bans and an OZ of coke. Toss those cordoroys, buy some skinny jeans and pink converse. Dude, you've got nothing to lose. You hit a chord with your desperation. How many of us try to reach the crowd with our words or actions, only to have the room check their cell phones, completely ignoring all our attempts at communication? We all feel the way Jeb felt at some point in our pitiful little lives. Fire all your advisors and go rogue. I've never seen such a clear cut case of an individual hitting bottom. Come on Jeb. Can you hear me clapping?