Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me

We here at Possible Elitists High on Coffee and Cloves apologize for the lack of posts lately. Both Cat and I have become involved in some seriously time-consuming "extra-curricular" projects that have put a strain on our blog time.

I've been working on my first album -- which I envision to be a Double-LP -- under the moniker The Pipe Bomb Cigarettes. Being that my instrumental skills are quite limited (I can do a mean whee-ooo whee-ooo solo on the theremin), it has been hard to fill up 24 tracks with meaningful sounds. One song, an instrumental, called "Too Old for Diapers, Too Young for Diapers," features 23 tracks of amplifier feedback and one track of a live microphone being fed to a food processor as interpreted by a delay pedal. I was trying to imagine what it sounds like when a hearing aid goes bad.

My proposed concept album, tentatively titled Geriatric Youth, is about an eccentric group of high school kids who wish they were in their 70s. They use walkers, wear Depends undergarments, dye their hair Bea Arthur blue, and play shuffleboard. Wouldn't that be precious? Well, for Holly Go-Lightly and the Pipe Bomb Cigarettes, it's an excuse to build ponderous layers upon layers of washed out Moog sounds and electronic blips, simulating the musicality of Wade Boggs' hair transplant surgery and yet another Bush-led increase in the number of our nation's citizens living in poverty (by Bush, I'm referring to both George W. Bush, the 43rd President of the United States of America, and the British post-grunge band of the same name).

Class 5

Didn't one of our favorite sci-fi free jazz players, Sun Ra, own one of the first Moog synthesizers? I believe he recorded a 19-minute Moog solo for the song "No. 1". But more than the moog keyboard synthesizers, I have always be a fan of its precursor, also developed by the late Dr. Moog: the theremin. Originally built with a keyboard, Brian Wilson of The Beach Boys removed the keyboard to produce the soaring psychedelic counterpoint on "Good Vibrations" (1966). That, my friend, is my favorite recording based on Dr. Moog's creation (albeit a slightly different creation of his).

But all this means very, very little. Holly. I have big news. That's right, Wade Boggs has scored an endorsement deal!



You'll notice that Wade Boggs once suffered from the tragic affliction known to the scientific world as "CLASS 5: TOP OF SCALP & CROWN BALDING". But no more. As you might suppose, I'll sleep a lot better tonight knowing that the next Wade Boggs sex scandal is right around the corner--thanks to the good folks who have put an appropriately hairy Boggs back on the prowl.

I Want You (She's So Heavy)

On Sunday (August 21), the (music) world lost one of its great pioneers, Robert Moog, to a brain tumor at the age of 71. Mostly known to a current generation of hipsters as a crazy-blippity-bleeping-analog relic that, if in possession of one, exponentially ups ones indie-cred, the Moog synthesizer contributed greatly to the tapestry of sounds produced by musicians in the 60s and 70s (and to the retro stylings of Stereolab in the 90s).

Possible Elitists High on Coffee and Cloves would like to pay tribute to this man and his wonderful invention--one that was both timely and timeless.

Off the top of my head, here are some of the greatest musical recordings that might not have been so great without help from Mr. Moog's creation:

Walter (Wendy) Carlos, Switched-on Bach (1968)
The Beatles, "I Want You (She's So Heavy)" (1969)
Head East, "Jefftown Creek" (1975)
Parliament, "Flashlight" (1978) & Funkadelic, "(It's Only) Knee Deep" (1979)
Gary Numan, The Pleasure Principle (1979)

Got any more you'd like to add, Cat?

One of Us Cannot Be Wrong

Kids, when Holly was gettin' her comeuppance back in the ol' skool, there were two givens: Charles Bukowski and Leonard Cohen were obligatory heroes for every hipster. I never bought into it for some reason. I'm not even lazy enough to have seen the film Barfly (1987), let alone read anything by Bukowski. I think he's mentioned in the film Sideways. Now Leonard Cohen I can deal with, but I've never been compelled to want to get a greatest hits collection or read one his novels like Beautiful Losers (1965). Following his deep-voiced prominence on soundtracks in the early 1990s--particularly Natural Born Killers (1994)--some of the hipsters turned their back on him because he was seen as going "big time." Yet, he still maintains a loyal following. Apparently he was a converted Buddhist monk for sometime in the late 1990s ... but not anymore, it would appear. Could that explain how this happened?

Leonard Cohen is broke. As two people on a rateyourmusic.com messageboard recommend, maybe we should all throw a benefit concert for him: LeonardAid. What lineup would be cool enough to raise money for Lenny's legal staff? A (once-again) reunited Big Star? Bob Dylan? Jandek? Bloc Party? Fugazi? Perhaps Cat, who has some law connections, might be able to get him an attorney at a cut-rate.

Well, Holly (and, I'm sure, the Paper Cat) send out our condolences to Leonard Cohen, and will do whatever we can to help him survive these trying times. Cohen, a notorious womanizer and fan of high quality illegal narcotics (well, I'm making that part up!), cannot possibly live on $150,000 for the rest of his life and continue produce state-of-the-art albums like Dear Heather (2004).

Pushover?

Holly, I hear that your favorite TV news journalist, Jim Leher, is a pushover. Apparently he has let political slimeballs like Condoleezza Rice get away with dodging questions about U.S. foreign policy inciting terroristic responses. It seems that he allowed her to call Islamic groups responsible for organizing military responses to U.S. military invasions merely those who "want to kill in the name of a perverted ideology that really is not Islam. . . ." And yet, Mr. Leher declined to ask her how the U.S. government can maintain wars of conquests to exploit and kill persons in distance lands in the name of a perverted ideology that is not democracy. Intersting. Of course, all of the intelligent readers of PEHOC&C know that The United States is not, and has never been, a democracy. It's a gayocracy, duh.

Everyone is Gay

The wonderful folks over at Focus on the Family swear that the group is "designed to help parents bond together, share practical advice, and encourage one another to make the most of the parenting years." Founded by Dr. James C. Dobson, the greatest parent in history, they include, on their website, tips to keep children between the ages of 5 and 11 from becoming homosexual, or, simply, "Helping Boys Become Men, Girls Become Women":

http://www.focusonyourchild.com/develop/art1/A0000684.html

Let Holly summarize these points for you, so that any of your teeming brood do not become gay (the horror! the horror!):

1) If your son is not a total fucking asshole ... SISSYBOY.
2) If your son is independent, free-thinking and sensitive ... GAY.
3) If your son has a creative and active imagination ... FUDGEPACKER.
4) If you have a daughter, don't worry: these rules don't apply to her, though she just might turn your son FRUITY if she shares her gender-coded toys with him.
5) If your son can't wait to suck his own semen out of his boyfriend's pooter, join the cheerleading squad because he actually has school spirit, or "borrow" all your Judy Garland records ... Oh wait, different list.

Call me old-fashioned, but I didn't think good parenting involved telling your children when they are very young that they should feel constant shame and embarrassment. But what do I know, I'm not a doctor (well, not yet), I'm not a parent (well, not yet), and I hate kids (still). To be fair, the site does say, "Accept your child and affirm his or her worth regardless of the characteristics you observe. Show unconditional love." So, the lesson, folks, is to show your children unconditional love by getting them extremely conditional, "professional help." Parents who Focus on the Family, what is the greater threat? Honestly. Having a daughter who likes Ani DiFranco and dresses like Alex P. Keaton or a son that listens to Can, wears an ironic moustache, Chuck Taylors and a high-school sports T-shirt IN PUBLIC?

That's right, Cat ... BINGO!!!

Old McDonald had a farm

I think I might head to the upcoming Reigning Sound show in my neck of the woods. You might remember the lead singer and songwriter from The Oblivians. Anyway, I'm gonna be sure to spend my time wisely at the show. That's right, I'll be playing hipster bingo. Is it legal to dress up as things yourself just to cross them out for bingo? I'm thinking I may have to go as "uber-hot asian hipster (female)"

Feelin' Hot Hot Hot

Since Cat is slow on the take, I did some research and found that:

That's right, Cat. I'm Poindexter. It's true, though, that I can play a mean violin solo and can muster up, at will, some intense pelvic gyrations.

It's a miracle that I'm typing this entry right now Cat. I've been playing Paperboy on my Nintendo Entertainment System for the last 30 hours. As you all know, the NES is practically like Gold to a hipster. After I defeat Paperboy, it's on to Contra. Apparently, if you push up-up-down-down-left-right-left-right-B-A-start before the game begins, you get 30 extra lives. Sweet ass! That oughta show those stinkin' Contras wussup. Right, Turtledaub?

Save that game

I want to write another blog post about feelings. But this one is also about something serious: video games. I give an impassioned plea to video gamers worldwide to please use the "pause" and "save game" functions responsibly. THEY MAY JUST SAVE YOUR LIFE.

A man recently died moments after finishing a 50-hour marathon video gaming session. This may just be the greatest sports tragedy since the greatest basketball player ever, Len Bias, died.

I am that I am

In honor of a bit by one of my favourite comedy acts, Pleaseeasaur, this blog post is about feelings, but it's also about totally working out. It starts here:

http://www.droppingknowledge.org/

Strangely, no one has asked the question: "How long will the greatest publication in the history of earthian publications languish in relative obscurity as a blog located at http://turtledaub.blogspot.com/ ?" Do you feel the burn? Maybe you need to try a few more reps. You gotta want it! Supposedly when Gertrude Stein was dying, Alice B. Toklas ased her, "Gertrude, Gertrude, what is the answer?" Gertrude replied, "What is the question?" Oh yeah! She wanted it!

Outfoxed

Fox [News Corp.], the megacompany responsible for the cultural trainwrecks American Idol AND The O'Reilly Factor, has just purchased myspace.com. According to an article on the jealous competitor CNN's website, users are concerned that Rupert Murdoch and his Big Brothers will not only watch us poop, but will censor people's profiles and remove content not reflective of Fox's fairandbalancedist brand of non-ideology [tongue firmly implanted in cheek]. This news gives Holly Go-Heavily concern, considering my bawdy sense of, well, everything. What's going to happen to my suitors on myspace if I can't be myself (mymymy)?

Maybe Mr. Murdoch can get his own legitimate myspace profile (not some spoof profile ... who would do such a thing?). It would be interesting to read his blog. "God, I hate first dates." "Damn I look sexy in Versace." "I've got too many islands." If only he had his own profile, then I would leave a brief comment, encouraging him to hire this guy.

I worried that Murdoch will next want to purchase my Billy Ripken "fuck face" card and then the Possible Elitists High on Coffee and Cloves Communication Machine 3000. If he does that and hires Robert Novak, this Internet place'll be leakier than Ted Kennedy's adult diaper.

Little orphan annie says be sure to drink your ovaltine

It seems that Brazilian drug smugglers have used Orkut (a Friendster-like networking web site) to distribute their wares. Holly, this has me wondering if anyone will decode the hidden messages in Possible Elitists High On Coffee and Cloves posts that we have used to covertly undermine the International Monetary Fund (or "IMF" for short)? I'm beginning to think maybe I shouldn't have disclosed this publicly. My god, think of what might happen if the Possible Elitists High on Coffee and Cloves Communication Machine 3000 fell into the wrong hands. I *shudder* to think about such a possiblity. I really do.

I think Wade Boggs may be the only person we can trust. Well, Wade Boggs AND Rollie Fingers, natch.


From the punctilious facial grooming displayed on his card, you might think Mr. Fingers a bit of a foppish dotard. Such trifles are hardle worth an audible chuckle, among respectible persons. Say, I'll trade two Rollie Fingers for one Billy Ripken error card (please, please, please click this link). What do you say Holly??? I feel bad for trading mine so many years ago.

A cry for help

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I Predict; or, Odds & Ends

Admission time. Even though I threw my television set away eleven years ago, I do whatever I possibly can to see The McLaughlin Group.

I will admit that I first watched his show because I thought he was that guy who played guitar on Miles Davis' Bitches Brew (1970) and later became a Mahavishnu. After watching this Bodhisattva expound on "this week's" hot-button political issues (this week, the split of the AFL-CIO labor union) with absolute and unwavering certainity and boldness, I became a follower. "PAT BUCHANAN." "ELEANOR CLIFT." "TONY BLANKLEY." His glorious, booming voice even makes his prediction for this week--that Bush's Supreme Court nominee, John Roberts, will become chief justice--not sound like the apocalypse is nigh. But enough about this glorious man. "BYE-BYE." [Note: McLaughlin perfected the tonality of this exitline long before Anne Robinson on The Weakest Link. Did I mention that I don't own a television set? When I said that I was lyin' I might have been lyin'.]

In other news, apparently Jimi Hendrix was gay and liked to chop down mountains with the edge of his hand, if you catch my drift. Jimi, we salute you!

Cat, I've got an assignment for you. Are you aware of this Internet phenomenon known as Online Quizzing? Speaking of Nerds, I want to know which Lambda Lamdba Lamdba fraternity brother you would be. Just curious.

BYE-BYE.

PS. More shameless plugging: Holly Go-Heavily, who occasionally dabbles in poetry, gives the thumbs-up to Carly Sachs, whose poems are featured at No Tell Motel from August 1 through the 8th. Enjoy!