Thursday, March 31, 2011

Media Spin

One of the functions of this blog was to represent alternative media. With no budget and living in a van and posting from the library the limitations were quickly reached and I started writing about homeless people in electric carts and film reviews. But that wasn't reaching the potential I knew existed so I devised the plan to document a mad voyage to the arctic circle posing as a person from the future who only wears plaid bell bottom pants. The strategy was based on a few patterns I've seen emerge in my study of effective counter-cultural endeavors:
1)A single driven individual facing insurmountable odds doing something that has almost no interest to anyone.
2)A character who is one minded and unique.
3)An environment that is foreign.
4) A goal that can't be possible but people can relate to on a philosophical level.

Add it all up and you have the Arctic Wolf expedition.

The theory was that by manufacturing media interest I could then operate as a manipulative source of information like my competitors at the neo-conservative think tank known as CNN. I wish it weren't true but any media is manipulative media. The only subjective information is the stuff RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE...which amounts to about 1% of the information we consume these days...which is A TOTAL DISGRACE because of the aforementioned think tanks that manipulate everything they slap on a plate like lunch ladies at Junior High School who must hear the plop of potatoes in their sleep. But I can't rise above a think tank. It's impossible. I don't want to just present facts because the game is not fair, the rules are stacked against me when media outlets can and do interview whomever they want and get the quotes they want.

Example: "Radiation in milk is safe."
"Mother of three believes in Nuclear Power."
Insurance company advertising plays seconds before video of entire town demolished by tsunami.

This is not news at all; this is molding the consumer who has been sold to the advertiser. Noam Chomsky has better essays on this than I'll ever write. He said, "Media doesn't sell their product (newspaper, tv program), they sell the consumer to the advertiser who funds the production.) Compare PBS with CBS and you'll see the difference. But you probably won't see the difference because, as I said, CBS has a death grip on everyone's mentality by using signature devious devices of manipulation and a cocktail of fear and relief. It's barbaric subliminal conditioning but it is legal an is not going anywhere. So why fight fire by shouting "Fire!"?? It's pointless. The only option is to create alternative media that overshadows the original media. And the alternative media will also be manipulative. That part really depressed me because when the paradigm shift ends up with just a mirror image of the original paradigm (A shotgun made from recycled material) then why the fuck am I bothering to do anything? Gandhi liberated India from Britain and then the Muslims and Hindus went at each other's throats like rabid dogs until Pakistan was formed and they've been at war for 60 years. If a nuke is dropped in the near future it will be Pakistan or India doing the dropping. Thanks Gandhi! So they got rid of the foreign oppressor and decided to do the oppression themselves. Am I doing the same thing>? Do I want to overthrow one manipuative media outlet to replace it with my own which will lead to similar insanity in my own name? This is what I ponder as I dig my knees into the blood soaked ceramic tile mosaic fluer de lis. Lately I've noticed that the internet is becoming a mixed media fantasy land where people have their own channels and books that are made in the image of the false prophets of CNN and Fox media. It's getting to the point where only infants have anything I'd call authentic reactions and responses. Everyone else basically mimics celebrities and talk show hosts. The latest craze is contests for products like potato chips that ask people to make their own commercial...and I've noticed the commercials basically parrot 50 years of commercial television and I'm not sure anyone knows what it means to tell the truth anymore. When The Simpsons is censored for Nuclear Power jokes (20 years of making fun of Nuclear Power and when a real meltdown happens they pull the jokes!?? What??) then I feel the puppet string being pulled on tender threads of fiber optics connected to my inner child. Damn them!

My point is that we are in the depths of the most lopsided media era ever. Two major environmental disasters in less than a year and they are both being whitewashed with celebrity meltdowns and low price air fares. That's not a is a strategy that is designed in 50th floor boardrooms with catered vegetable plates (tainted with radiation and illegal mexican skin) and coffee carafs and designer leather shoes and mahogany tables. It's a delicate process to manipuate 700 million people but the strategy of fear and confusion and hot and cold and the ultimate doublespeak messages of "Consumption is Savings" "War is Peace" "Madness is Sanity" have worked for decades and will continue to assault us until an alternative arrives that is so overpowering that the two can't coexist and the people choose a different route. IS it possible to overthrow media using the same electronic highways that are used by the mainstream media? Probably not until ownership (control) of the cables changes hands. My statement is this: I don't like being manipulated and I'm very sensitive to it so the methods do not work on me. If there is a flood coming and you try to manipulate me onto a boat, I would rather drown because your company is worse than death. So, I will work tirelessly to hack at the roots of media manipulation because I believe it is the source of lies that led to the elimination of the plains Indians and the American Bison and now leaves us with radioactive milk that is "OK to drink." It will take some effort but that's the only thing that turns me on these days so I'm willing to work until every corporate boardroom on wall street is a hydroponic pot farm and every cattle ranch grows tomatoes.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Old Man on Old Knees Finds Meaning of Life

When he isn't mocking the plight of Asian countries Oggy supplicates himself before God Almighty and serves penance on his bony knees for sins that chase him through sleepless nights. Did he whisper "nigger" once when he was eleven? Did he fail to find that Creamsicle stick that he threw at Nick one afternoon at the Pierce Island Pool in dreamy humid New England air in 1983? Did he run over a squirrel during his flight over the Big Sur Mountains in a 1967 VW micro bus that had been worked on by every stoned hippy vagabond for 35 years and thus kicked out of gear into neutral at random and dangerous (uphill) moments distracting Oggy from the road ahead (as he fumbled with the stick and watched the logging truck hurtle toward him from behind) and the squirrel decided to cross the road at that very moment and never saw the other side...did he really write a mocking news story about destruction in Japan? Would he write this same article if a tsunami had wiped out La Paz, Mexico where a piece of his heart still resides on the sandy steps of his immortal beloved? these and other crimes haunt him and in the tenth century sinners like Oggy were tormented with leather straps and poked with holy spikes in the back or tortured rightly on a bed of nails. Here's the kind of thing Oggy will work on in 40 years. Look, that's Oggy in the middle holding the scroll hahahaha it reads, "He did the best he could..." How far we have come that Oggy can walk among you and be served food in diners and sleep in libraries. But that does not sooth his disturbed heart. Only penance can do that so Oggy has taken the art of the benedictine monks who decorated their basilicas literally for centuries using mosaic tiles and fresco mortar and blood and flesh from their worthless, unforgivable, ego-saturated knees. Has he learned his lesson? Has Oggy shattered a million perfectly formed tiles into ten million tiny pieces that he must reassemble on his knees? Has this task, enough to break the spirit of any hollow-eyed monk, brought toothless humility to Oggy or will he again march through the 6 story high racks of hockey equipment to demonstrate his aloofness? It is easy to be holy on the top of a mountain. Yes, put the screws to a man and have him on his knees for weeks and months. Tell him to hunt a quarter mile away for a dinosaur jock strap wayne greztky signature edition and watch his reaction as his electric forklift battery dies weakly and the chirping of hand held wireless guns call and answer each other through the vast warehouse of commercial masquerade. Then you will know his mettle. You will know how aloof and holy he really is. A million pieces and the dry flesh of wrinkled fingers and swollen joints accompany his pre-diabetic swelling prostate . Oggy's opinion is that he is stronger than any penance and will wear it down like the ocean against a Japanese nuclear power plant...he will not forgive himself and he can not be forgiven but given enough time he will learn to arppegiate his minor 7th flat 5 chords in all keys. He won't be broken as his loyalty/fidelity to his own misery is indefatigable. But he sees the silver lining on the outer edges of his self-absorption and that lining is the material for a work that will be the literary equivalent of this fact mosaic of misery is a type of theme that runs through the entire Santa Cruz story, broken tiles that Oggy must reconstruct but there is not enough time and so he pleads with everyone to STOP EVERYTHING so that., you see, the TILES CAN BE RECONSTRUCTED EXACTLY AS THEY WERE. but this is insane, say the city council members, and this is not practical say the revolutionary pot dealers with unregistered dogs and children who deny their social security number and the homeless prophets with their battery operated radios and cans of dented dreams from the discount rack of family survival all say, "What?" because the hissing in their ears is not static from the radio that has no antennae but is rather the damage irreparable to their inner ear drums that sounds like locusts in the night sky over an Alabama swamp. They don't know what you mean that things should ever stop. Stop? They can't stop and anyway look at this growth on my toe it itches real fucking bad and I ain't got no food and look AT MY BABY IN THE SWIFT RIVER! Don't you got no sense to dive in after the dogs of war! HAHAHAHAHA! And Oggy, only Oggy, would not heed their plodding ascension to another insane time, only Oggy would think there MUST BE A WAY TO STOP EVERYTHING SO IT CAN BE FIXED...BECAUSE IT CAN"T BE FIXED IF IT KEEPS MOVING. Like fixing a moving airplane...impossible,,,,unless....unless you pretend it isn't impossible....either speed up or slow it down...that they can just be convinced to stop,,,,and the mayor will listen to you and impose a mandatory moratorium ON EVERYTHING. BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT HAS TO HAPPEN FOR THE TILES... ANd the WOLVES! WHAT ABOUT THE WOLVES? All tiles and broken pieces of broken tiles... So, you see, this mosaic project will not amend the broken bones of his soul but it will give Oggy a better method of defining his madness and thus translating it into something his computer will eat and shit out to others. It is in fact a kind of symbolic representation of his goal to reassemble the universe into the orderly system THAT IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE! But why did he break the tile then? Why break what is not broken? Because that process of reassembling the million pieces that were foolishly broken is the act that Oggy is being denied because the mayor will not mandate the reversal of insane progress. "WE NEED TO THINK IT OVER FIRST! PLAN IT OUT": "There is no time for that. We are falling." "No! No, we..." "We're falling in the sky to our deaths and you can't stop." "I can. I can fly." "No, you are falling like me and you can't fly and you can't stop." "That's defeatist talk." "That's true. And you are flapping your wings." "Yes." "Stop. Stop flapping. Just sit at your desk.," "No. The desk is hurtling downward." "Yes it is. Sit and work." "And die." "Yes." "Never. Not until all the tiles are put back IN ORDER!"

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Revenge of the Dolphins

March 11, 2011

After decades of being systematically slaughtered for profit and sport, the dolphins of the Pacific Ocean mounted a powerful counterattack on their human enemies today as a dolphin-orchestrated 30 foot wall of water obliterated several coastal towns in Japan.

"How does it feel, you pitiful motherfuckers?" asked the aquatic commander who goes by the name Grey Death. "You thought you would get the last laugh by herding my comrades into a cove where we ordinarily breed and then ruthlessly capture us to either sell us to aquariums and water parks in Florida or else chop us up for sushi? You thought years of unprovoked violence was going to go unpunished? You thought wrong."

The wall of water that rained death on hundreds of thousands of coastal dwellers was caused by a coordinated effort of The Dolphin Army, a splinter group of the otherwise peaceful salt water mammal that is related to the whale and porpoise.

"I won't go into how we executed the first in our planned series of attacks against mankind, but I will say this is only the beginning," said Grey Death. "If you had any idea how easily we could fuck you guys [humanity] up they you would be on your knees begging for forgiveness. You would be giving us sardines out of your butt cracks to placate our rage."

When asked what was the last straw, Grey Death said, "Are you kidding? Do you read the papers? If I came to your house and pissed in your face while my friends raped and killed your family would you do nothing? Would you just watch while another animal deliberately poisoned your environment with the toxic sluice from gold and silver mining? Would you!"

In a telepathically transmitted statement meant to coordinate with the first devastating waves that destroyed everything in its path, the Dolphin Army stated, "We dolphins of the Pacific Ocean are no longer going to take your shit. You want to dump refined heavy metals into our water? That's going to to cost you one nuclear meltdown. You want to over fish the ocean to feed your fat faces with tuna melt sandwiches to the point where we have to scour the plastic polluted depths for a scrap of food? Then say goodbye to Hollywood. We've had enough of your bullshit gill nets and your dolphin slaughters and your whaling harpoon boats. No more hoops and no more tricks. Now we want the whole bucket of fish! This is war! Prepare to die!"

Moments later the earth shifted on its axis. Images from Japan show entire towns pulverized into pieces by a wave of water that emerged from nowhere. A few survivors claimed that as they were struggling to stay afloat they saw several bottlenosed dolphins watching from a distance.

"I thought they would rescue me, like in the stories" said one survivor before passing out, "But then I realized they were laughing. They did nothing but laugh as my family drowned."

"Yeah," said Commander Death, "the dolphin is through helping mankind in any way shape or form. You pushed us to our limit and we are enemies from this point on. We've been on this planet before you were jacking off in the African Bobo tree so if you think you've got what it takes to beat us then bring it on, motherfucker."

When asked if he felt any remorse for the hundreds of thousands left homeless in Japan Grey Death cackled, "Remorse? Are you kidding? If it hadn't been for that damn earthquake and the warnings we would've killed one hundred times more people. Our goal, and let me be perfectly clear, is the eradication of the human species. If there is one toddling, thumb sucking, diaper wetting fish killer on this planet then we will not rest until he is devoured by a shark. Is there anything you can do to call a truce? No, not a chance. We gave you opportunity after opportunity to change your ways. We watched one "Save the Dolphin" campaign after another fall into obscurity. And now we're going to defend ourselves with powers you can't even imagine. We've been patient and our patience has run out. We've been kind and our kindness has been taxed to the limit. Mark my words: You are finished."

When asked for final thoughts Grey Death smirked and said, "Just remember this: 3/4 water. Keep that ratio in mind, asshole."

He exited the interview with an amazingly acrobatic triple twist involving several somersaults. He managed to reenter the water through a ring of water that he himself had blown through his blow spout. An orphaned child who was weeping on the shoreline momentarily brightened at the athletic display and was pointing innocently in the direction of the water when another dark skinned dolphin suddenly shot out of the nearby water and decapitated the child between his powerful jaws. The dolphin backpedaled on his tail, as though moon walking on the surface of the water before contemptuously spitting out the dead child's head. The dolphin continued swimming past debris and floating bodies of the victims of the attack leaving onlookers stunned and heartbroken.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Area Man Retires After Helping Ailing Nigerian Stranger Via Internet

St Louis

"He said he needed help, so I helped him," says Michael Vandau of St. Louis, Missouri. "I was raised to trust people and I guess it paid off in this case. Sometimes it pays to trust people and be nice. That's how my parents raised me and that's I want to be treated."

Michael said that the day after he listed his 1988 Corsica sedan on an online classified page:" Nice interior, New Brakes. Rust, $800 OBO" he was contacted by a man in Nigeria who claimed to be heir to an enormous fortune.

"Greetings Kindly American Owner of the item you are for sale. I hoping you are to help me." began the now famous letter that changed Michael's life.

"It was a prompt and courteous reply to my car ad. I thought it was someone who wanted to buy my car. Nothing more."

But the letter revealed itself to be much more than that as it described an amazing, transnational drama that was unfolding thousands of miles away and only Michael could help.

"I plead you today," continued the letter, "my family was honorably raised in Egypt and the recent unrest there has make it impossible to visit my wealthy uncle who, praise Allah, is dying."

Mr. Vandau shook his head sadly as he sat in a plush leather sofa chair recently purchased for $11,000 using money he would receive for his part in the amazing story.

"His uncle was sick," said Michael, referring to the Nigerian/Egyptian stranger. "This man in Nigeria had an uncle who was sick and he couldn't transfer money to this uncle because of the revolution going on there. He didn't have the resources because his country had blocked access to his overseas account. And here's the kicker," said Michael with a chuckle, "He also had a distant relative who needed a vehicle in St. Louis. What are the odds?"

Michael continued to describe how the email revealed the dilemma and how he could help.

"It's so simple, looking back on it, and it helped them so much. All I had to do is accept an international money order from the man in Nigeria. The money order was for $10,000, which is obviously way more than my car is worth. But I would take that money to the bank and deposit it and then send the difference of $9000 to an overseas account that the Egyptian uncle could access. See? And the Nigerian's relative would pick the car up when the check cleared. Everyone wins! And after I sell the car they would send me an additional money order for $700,000. I'm no dummy," said Michael, "When I see a good deal I take it. And don't forget that this helps an ailing man in a politically unstable country. Only a monster would turn a blind eye to his need!"

Michael was at first hesitant. "Not suspicious like, 'This guy is going to scam me,' suspicious. But more like, 'How am I going to pull this off and get this man well again. I would've just sent the money to the Egyptian uncle's account accept I've been laid off work for a year so I didn't have anything to send, you know? Now all I can say is the proof is in the pudding."

That pudding is filled with gold as the Nigerian sent the money order, Mr. Vandau deposited it and when it cleared he sent the difference to the Egyptian account.

"it took a few days for the uncle to get his money and when he did, boy was he overjoyed. He could get his medicine, bribe the police who held him prisoner in his house, pay to have his wife freed from a torture chamber and have some work done to his house. To show his gratitude, the Nigerian, a man it turned out is the owner of a gold mine, send me a check for $700,000. Look at this spread!" exclaimed Mr. Vandau as he gestured at his expansive estate he recently purchased with the reward.

The trio and their family are planning a reunion in the future but for now they are all pleased with the new friendships they formed via the Internet. The Nigerian man who asked to remain anonymous had this to say, "For years we have been begging literally thousands of Americans to help us, while the situation just got worse, and the string of abuse we received you would not believe. Everything from, "You dirty piece of shit, stop bugging me with these scams!" to "I wish cancer upon you and your disgusting family." Imagine! All manner of evil attacks on me simply because we were in an unusual position and had no one to help us. Terrible. I am very thankful for Mr. Vandau's charitable use of time and I believe he is thankful for the compensation I gave him...and of course my uncle is healthy and that's all that really matters in these trying times. Family comes first."

Monday, March 7, 2011

Wolves Under Attack

My Letter to the corrupt heads of state who are not worth a wolf dropping:
Dear Senator,
The world is shrinking. What was once a boundless mystery of blank areas on parchment maps is now readily viewable on computers through satellite images. Soon, streaming video of the darkest corners of the planet will be available on demand. And with the technological advances western cultures encroach on the habitat of primitive cultures and animal habitats. WE CAN'T HAVE OUR CAKE AND EAT IT TOO. There is no way a petroleum dependent culture will accommodate anything but itself. I understand that technology depends on energy and energy is not manufactured by magic elves in the forest, but I also feel mankind has a moral responsibility to accommodate wild animals. For the first time in history entire ecospheres are poised to be destroyed in exchange for technological development. This is not negotiable because the nature of semi-conductor manufacturing is so resource intensive that it can not coexist with natural habitats. By its nature, semi-conductor manufacturing devours whatever life is nearby. The internet is basically built on the bones of unsuspecting and innocent animals like the wolf and the Bison and people like the Huaorani tribe of Ecuador among others. Is any "advancement" or "progress" worth anything when it comes at this price? Can we really benefit from the internet if it required an environmental holocaust? I say, No. An animal that requires the eradication and exploitation of ANY OTHER ANIMAL in pursuit of its goals is by definition a monster. All the political justifications are like farts on the prairie and only further discredit American reasoning abilities. Wolves are merely one of the animals who stand in the way of man's domination and destruction of the planet. These noble animals need neither our domestication nor our advice. They merely need our decency to respect their privacy. The world is not a zoo for mankind to control.
If you can take some time out from fleecing the public coffers to fund your alcoholism then please be a steward of the planet and not a devourer.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

A Plea

Remember the Yellow Pages? It's a book that is delivered to you free of charge and it used to give some sanity to our commerce. In 1983 if I wanted to buy a wiffle bat then I would look in the yellow pages under "Sporting Goods" and it would list J.C. Penney and Gallaghers and J.J. Newberry's and The Athlete's Foot among others and I would visit one of these stores and they would have but one option to choose from and that is the wiffle ball and bat set that are manufactured in Connecticut from good old American plastics by good American folk. And I would buy that wiffle ball and bat and retire to the protected environs of the racquetball courts next to the JFK Center which had natural boundaries for hits (bounces to wall), doubles (hits wall in air), triple (hits fence area in air), and home run (leaves enclosed area and lands outside) where Nick and Brad and Mikey would be waiting with jugs of soda and packs of gum. That was 1983. In 2011 you go to the Internet and order the cheapest thing that comes up. And that might be a cheap knock off from Yugoslavia. My point is that you wouldn't be motivated to buy local because there might be a cheaper product that will arrive in relatively the same amount of time on the backs of Lithuanian orphans.
What the hell is my bigger point? I got lost there researching the history of Wiffle balls. The Internet is a maelstrom that sucks my attention into the deficit rich waters of the nether-net.
We have got to get back to ordering and buying locally and that's what the yellow pages is. If you need something like table cloths then you should go to the yellow pages and look up table cloths and pick a local store. Do not give in to the temptation to buy at Target because Target is merely a Chinese import dealership clothed in the costume of a friendly purveyor of Americana. No. Don't shop there. The money you think you save will be lost in hidden federal import costs and welfare to doll out to the people who lost their jobs to the Chinese slave who is trying to earn enough money to be poor in their village where they can either be sold into sex slavery or defend their honor against the hoard of Mongolian BBQ feeders with blood dripping down their throats. You lose in the end but the glossy billboards of size 4 women with fake teeth and fake tits might convince you that you are on the winning team. Nope. You're on the losing team. You have "Rob Me" taped on your back and every Asian country is eyeing you and laughing. You can't buy your way into the popular crowd. That's the oldest trick in the book and I should know because I prostituted my good friend Jake and Seth who will forever be remembered for smuggling Seagram's wine coolers on a glorious rainy hike in the white mountains and I will never ever forget "Thick as A Brick" by Jethro Tull coming on the boom box that Seth carried for miles as the wood smoke curled up through the spinning tree branches. These men I traded in as I wanted to buy my way into a cheerleader's perfumed hair along with the popular kids and for my troubles I had Bobby and Jack make fun of me behind my back and Mike threw my camping gear in a fire as others laughed. They abused me and I took it because I thought it made me popular but what it really did was alienate my real friends and made me a loser. I think of that when I enter Target and identify their marketing strategy as "Buy Your Way to Popularity" Ah, here are the same tactics used by Bologna and Cheese. Those lazy manipulative cunts became the marketing dupes of today and they are using the same tired ploy to get my money as once they got my pride. But it won't work anymore, guys. Go stroke your Viagra engorged cocks in the executive rooms alone because I'm not jerking off the company man anymore and I'm going to tell everyone how you are using those old jokes again. I know your secrets. I'm smarter than you. I'm better at everything but you caught me when my pants were down and lowered my self esteem enough to make me think that I needed you. Congratulations, you dirtbags. That's the real motive behind your firestorm of low self esteem campaigns. You want to be needed but you know that you have nothing to offer except plagiarized propaganda with skinny chicks smiling as they buy something. HAHAHAHA. I laugh at my own gullibility. You fooled me with rabbits dressed in wolves heads. You are old and you are tired. You are stupid and your days of predatory methods have come to an end.

Back on can't buy popularity so don't try. Buy what you need to survive. Engage your own personality irrespective of the self esteem you were assigned in home room. That is easy to do because the yellow pages is where you look. And if there isn't a personal name next to the business name then don't go there. Chinese Import businesses may have enslaved the people put out of work by their low prices but it is only a phase that will end when the truth is revealed. The top of the pyramid is forever being supplied the sadistic elite by a paradigm of top down power constructed by the slaves of pre school. 12 years of propaganda to whither your self esteem can be overcome. We will do it together by ignoring the size 4 prostitutes of power and engaging our Buddha selves. We will meditate and we will shout and we will bring down the pillars of injustice one Starbucks coffee stand at a time by using the yellow pages. Yes, we will. We will howl into the ears of music purveyors that the revolution will not have a sponsored soundtrack. It will not be televised. It will not for sale at Target.

If something breaks...fix it. Then you will know the horse* you rode in on.

*Yes, the horse above is an import: Japanese 1974 CL 350. It was imported 37 years ago...which makes it as old as I am and it's grandfathered in along with Mayan poison gourds and dinosaur teeth. Don't waste time splitting hairs over semantics. You know what is right and wrong since your mother told you to eat all the food on your plate and not to take candy from strangers.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Area Grandfather Dies at "Just The Right Time"

The 84 year old grandfather of Jim Daniels died at "Just the right time," according to Daniels.

"His death couldn't have come at a better time," said Daniels as he relaxed at the memorial service of his grandfather John Daniels who was a sportscaster and local personality in the small town of Poplar Bluff, Missouri. "I live in Seattle and don't come to the Midwest but once or twice a year. So when I happened to be visiting with my father and learned that [grandpa] had had a stroke or something then I was initially thinking, 'Great, looks like I'll have to extend my vacation and have to work twice as hard when I return." Jim popped a cheese ball into his mouth and smiled. "But no! I didn't have to cancel a thing because he up and died quick and as soon as this [the memorial service] is over I get on the first flight back to Seattle. It's perfect!"
Creative Commons License
Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.