nodoctors.com archive february 0007 |
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TANKERTOWN for truth, justice, and grant moneys; weekly
posted by elvis CANSAFIS FOOTE'S DAILY REMINDER:
posted by cansafis Mr. Brians returns with another installment in the infamous
posted by mr. brian TANKERTOWN still weekly, still dominating
posted by elvis “Favored” Felt that as time was not a source For inspiration or integrity, Conduct yourself According To the flute With white capes and robes To befit an emperor; Respect, remember, The agony Acutely Cold and timeless The big blinking herring. ## “That whistle rock memory” There’s a slope in your energy, The metal made to break, Outside the wreck posted by chauncey CansaFis has become an uncle! Brotherly duties slightly delaying TANKERTOWN this week. Official announcement soon, pending proper baby photos. In the mean times, here is an archival comixkcs fix c/o Fis & Mr. Brians, originally drawn for Zack McLuckie's "Hercrotchules" zine in the spring of '06:
posted by elvis Elvis's Konspiracy Korner Saturday 2/17 1140 CST THE FORUM FOR CINEMATIC INTELLIGENCE PRESENTS: 1) ROCKY BALBOA Life is a series of ups and downs. We progress and move forward. I digress and fall down. This film is about living life after being knocked down. Not boxing, but more of boxing as a metaphor for living well as you get older and pay attention to that process. It is also about love, loss, and family. Maybe someone important in your life passed this year. Maybe you struggled to accomplish something this year. Maybe you're down on your luck, whimsy, or happiness, all the time! Or maybe you, like me, crapped your pants at least once this year. posted by cansafis ## "Political Science" Now everyone knows I should be the last to decry any ridiculous scribblings on this here blog. Unlike our good President, the Decider, I’m the Tolerator. Folks, I’m a true-believer in that sacred institution of the Hearty Chuckle. I have no problem with folks assuming that No Doctors’ collective IQ is sublateral, or that our taste in the arts is decidedly taste-less. Heck, we tossed our street-cred long before we ever hit the streets. And yet when I see us espousin’ the sort of “reasonable discussion” you usually hear out of the likes of Jimmy “The Mountain” Inhofe, I get to thinking. Thinking ‘bout thinking. As in, WHAT IN TARNATION COULD THIS IDJIT BE THINKING? I even get a compulsion. An ethical urge, if you will. Now I know you’re thinking, but ain’t he Generation X, like us? And I agree, it’s out of character. It ain’t fun or even pleasant. But I’m embracing it, I’m gunning down. It’s like that manstuff you hear about from Hollywoods. Now there’s dupes and then there’s dupes. Some of ‘em are undoubtedly just predisposed to optimism. But of course, when Trent Lott squirms, “ermm, I don’t believe you,” you know what side his bread is buttered on. And when you’ve read your hundredth article in every paper from the SF Chronicle to the Washington Post to the Boston Globe to the Denver Post where they harp on the fact that no-one in the media has printed a dispute to these climate-change maniacs, you might wonder what planet these folk live on. I mean, it makes sense maybe to say this on the radio, but I don’t see how you can express yourself through print and presume that your audience DON’T READ! But hey, Chaumpers, you may be thinking, what about the science? A scientist ain’t no dupe! Sure, a few of em are obviously just hawking their wares, taking a contrarian’s approach as a sort of “character-distinguishment.” But what of the science itself, you say! I can handle a god-less universe, you tell me. I’ll joyously stroll through a world sans culture. And I’m happy to exercise my democratic voice through the Nielsen ratings. But the science! Please just leave me my science! I confess, I’m bewildered, but then again, I travel in odd circles. I’m the type that’s known to decline a healthy cheeseburger in spite o’ the science! But I’m also one who’s happy to play by the rules. So I thought of some experiments. Here’s one: drive an automobile – any automobile – through the rush hour traffic on the highways of Los Angeles. As you’re inhaling the fumes and observing that world-famous schmog, think to yourself, “Hmmm… is this a good schmog, or a bad schmog?” For those of you outside the Los Angeles area, I’ve got another experiment. Stick your face near the tailpipe of a running auto – not too close! (don’t hurt yourself, silly) – and think to yourself the philosophical question, “Is an earth human more like an oak tree, or a computer chip?” (Hint: that’s a long-form essay question, people.) Alright, I admit- that ain’t no scientific method like Bacon might have proposed. Real science means facts! And this whole fucked-up Earth scenario ain’t proved ‘til it’s happened, buddy! Of course, it don’t take a scientist to figure out that this self-professed “vocal minority” may have a lot in common with the silent majority. Especially when you consider that the argument really comes down to “taking actions that ain’t fun” vs “acting like everything’s cool.” So if you’re rooting for the underdog, or concerned about the “truth,” I say leave it to experts like Inhofe. Better energy might be spent thinking about the actions that each “truth” demands be taken, and choosing your truth accordingly. It’s like those feisty dicks Sebastian and Brian would say: WHERE’S THE MOTIVE? posted by chauncey ## TANKERTOWN post-partisan & para-scientetic
posted by elvis ## WWIV Update Our NFL season has left us for another spring, and as much of the northeast twists under snow drifts that would make the Saint Paul-dwelling Clxps blanche, and weaker-minded citizens turn their attentions toward the Los Angeles-engineered lesser sports, the insidious demoralization of the decidedly post-warrior class USA masses proceeds apace.
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ITEM!! posted by elvis ## RE: SHORTWAVE SPECIAL And so Mr Brian has requested a dedication, as the story goes. Really it was a simple decision. It fell into my lap. The brother kevekev had recently visited our turf and been gifted by a noted arab technolord. He has no interest. “Enhhhh,” says keve, “What do I want with a shortwave radio?” I said, “Fine.” Now the reception in my building is hideous. Something about the matter in the walls. But I like the concept. I was born in the eighties, people. Cable television…most of you reading are surely in worse shoes. At least I can remember life before the internet! The inaccessible, the untouchable; this was your best source of hope. Any realities were bound to be bland and thin. The records made you a seeker. You had to work at it, people. Puzzle pieces etched together in the thick heat of the night. You were blind and groping. But you knew you were alive and you damn well knew who was who! Now I have found the future. Its gentle rolling strangeness never ceases to satisfy. I admit it: joy, peace; I’ve succumbed like a wimp. No television, car title, or cheeseburgers; a healthy love life. Simple aesthetic pleasures have inevitably boiled into political content through no making of my own. So in other words, when this shortwave fell into my lap, it seemed like some F-U-N. A nice distraction from life on the road and a good way to unwind after the gigs. Underneath a heavy cloud of midterm election results looming, we trek to our Motel 6 after the show. Elvis and Fis, being in a brutally indulgent masochists’ mood, give face to the televised coverage as a sort of “duty of awareness.” ‘Tis a dread onus, to cower ‘neath the aegis of the politerati. B and I retreat to the balcony with the box, seeking the elusive sound. This song is a symmetrical device perpendicular to all parallels. The sound is unknown. The sound collects. The breath extends. There is a mystery in the twilight and a will to persevere. This piece is of now. It is a creation generated to sustain all beauty and life toward eventual everything. I am working from the plateau, fellas. The crank is stuck. Calling your attention back to the alphabet. Freedom as a pulsing life force. The language of the old people is dead dust, decaying. There is no knowledge of the swords and the house within which we dwell or the trees that carve our spirits into spades. posted by chauncey ## SHORTWAVE SPECIAL Chauncey and Mister Brians tap into the most solid of soundwave posted by mr. brian ## THE FORUM FOR CINEMATIC INTELLIGENCE PRESENTS: posted by cansafis ## "Intersection" VII VII / A long time ago / I carved this backward / Into an oak tree / That may have been alive / Now I’m stuck / Obsessing / Nakedness / Attitude / Indifference / Joy / Staples / Temperature / The feeling of a fox / A long slow kaleidoscope sequence / The nuisance of undeniable impulses / Songs stuck together in a briefcase / The better religion or the best / Food that makes me happy / A chinese character / Novel approaches / Symmetry and its defect / Gargling in praise of nature / The return of the symphony / Being near / Finding out how / Trolling through the marshes / Sticking to something gladly / Neighborhood magic tricks / Your favorite reminder / In a basketball hoop / That old whimsical feeling / One spine and a skull / VII posted by chauncey ## THE FORUM FOR CINEMATIC INTELLIGENCE PRESENTS: Today's Episode Amidst the rubble of this brutally condensed and compressed YouTube
File exists a small video project made in the hey-hey-hey-day of Mr.
Foote's collegiate stint (1999-2003). God does it look ugly, but perhaps you can find reason to devote nine minutes to taking it all in. I don't blame you if you don't. Instead I avoid you through my deftness of "internetial negligence" and imagine you a grunting and cold concrete wall. Regardless this video is the height of the movement cinephiles henceforth refer to as "Arteesteesimo". What's more pretentious than insistence on poncy fancy pseudonyms? This film. So alert dear viewer, the forum presents presents...PRUP KNOK!!! posted by cansafis ## "Intersection" VI VI / Drift in the ever-present wheel / But it don’t mean nothing / Don’t chase this haircut / Dollars made of paper / Colors made of patience / Shot an arrow through the river / Just to see the world go round / But I’m higher now than ever / Off the oxygen and dust / Off the accidents of love / Off the mystery of feeling / And the will to be alive / Through the window on the weekend / And the opposite of lines / Pulling closer to belief / Pushing further toward the floor / Falling backward as I’m dancing / Step forward through the ace / Calling out to the scepter / I notice the bugs / It’s not far now / Just an inch and a mile / Just to cross the freeway / To steal something gently / Put it back and own it / Tie the red bundle tighter / Destroy all the evidence / Keeping moving faster and slower / And the angel made a whistle / Buh / VI posted by chauncey ## TANKERTOWN week after week, useful & for you, an comicxks:
posted by elvis ## "Intersection" V V / And we gather at the gate / Crowd and peer between tall shoulders / Extensive factsheets and orders / Accompanied by a ram / By the hedgehog / By the flooding / For all exclusive ministries where the waiters serve the table / Back in the old country / One hundred dollars a viewing / Pouring bathwater out on Fridays / These vigils in digital neon / The decaying source of opium / The tradition has no name / No time or space to speak of / That was something like a parrot / And I keep you on my fingers / For when everything is cold / And the sand so hot its broke / Like a lazy hoodlum on a payphone / Still reaching and searching / I embrace the endless numbers / Total reference to the bridge / Or a sweet forgiving lover / The wall that mends a playground / In the dancing sheet of paper / A trio of malcontents / His fingers with no thumb / Rubbing dynamite together / Over a meal without butter / For an onion in her blouse / V posted by chauncey ## "Intersection" IV IV / Skin rips skin / The oracle speaks within a crowd / Violence and furious challenges / The easiest path for the deceiver / Debts to be collected at midnight / Exhausting these hard-won maxims / Miles from the turbulence / Shattered with a hammer / The cycle is sickening / Blood in tremendous failure / Notepads stained with glitter / Unable to recall the comment / Tax throughout the spectrum / An upheaval of science / With a spear into the ocean / He has returned with an axe / And the mighty questions carving / Blood for all that needs it / I can offer you American currency / Are these items for purchase / But to no one speaks the orator / No memories of the bones / Or the dust that turned to metal / Finally some freedom / Some airplanes / Some toxic gas and funerals / Some marching bands and judges’ gavels / Some cloaks and wigs and seatbelts / Some desolate viking songs from over the sea / Some harbor for birds soon to be gone / Some gas and heat and clogging nagging / Debts and questions / A spiral like an oyster / IV posted by chauncey ## Konspiracy Korner this week wrapped up last week's segment - please refer to this entry for 'more fun'. "Intersection" III III / Stay beyond my apprehension / Carried swiftly in a blade of grass / The brightness glows for all to see / Ignore or note or fill or fall / We have now made contact / To know and touch my friend / As her eyes are soft and true / Burning candles in the warmth / And the wind of summer joy / Til the ocean bursts intently / Meaning nothing / But an acre / And the salt we’ve shaken freely / On the ground beneath our feet / Telling stories / Making romance / A wizard and a fairy / And the gospel of extinction / The fruits blend together / Other worlds going fuzzy / Mute and strange / Intoxicating grace and laughter / The silent synonym for justice / A hand through a doorway / A camel in the aisle / But this flower that I now hold / In between my thumb and finger / Dives into the secret water / Taking gulps so it need not arise / III posted by chauncey ## Elvis's Konspiracy Korner Saturday 2/3 1140 CST "Intersection" II II / Now you ghosts that walk down Broadway / Know the memory of which I spoke / Black and white photograph of an old beach house / The breath that spins inside the pin / Rain and concrete and thin practicalities / The million rooms you’ve yet to enter / Only to approach the pine / Your bones in pain / An old fantastic theological nightmare / Syrup and dust in place of prayers / The sticky burning cold beneath the moonlight / Only a mantra or a tidal wave / Could obliterate the feeling / And old folks rest and remember / Quiet nights in the house with tea / Sand at the center of it all / Buoys that sway and rock in the pre-storm / The truth being something that rises and fades / Hills that sink into valleys / Time being something on a string / Or a word to forget / II posted by chauncey ## THE FORUM FOR CINEMATIC INTELLIGENCE PRESENTS: 2) MOVIES I SAW ON CABLE AT MY PARENT’S HOUSE: Okay I saw all these on my Christmas Vacation and I have a variety of reasons to suggest them, from pure artistry and creativity to satisfying schmaltzy nostalgic satisfaction. Let us proceed accordingly. GUMMO is golden. It is poetry on film, an insight into a surreal yet completely believable reality, and one of the 'nineties' best comedies or dramas, depending on how you want to watch it. It invoked nostalgia for a dream and fantasy world of my youth: I used to bike around all day with my friends, age 7 or 8, thinking myself an adult and considering that adult reality, fantastically, to be my own. I imagined myself a dirty and wholly sexual being. My buddies and I would talk back and forth to each other about different perverted realities as if they were our own, while we could barely understand our own pubis. It was a good way to pass time and use the old thinking box. The best example of this break in reality would be a set of nudie drawings of the neighbor girls that I drew and placed in their mailbox. In my mind this was a wholesome and necessary gesture of my youthful urge to connect to women as the adults do. Their father, after witnessing my rendering of his daughters - ear-less and totally in the buff - did not feel the same way. Well… that was the year my mom threw away my dad's Penthouse and Playboy magazines (which I read religiously and in bone). In fact I was “caught” by the parents sneaking into them not too long after my clandestine drawing assignment. I explained the absurdity of me reading "dirty" magazines to my mother: “Awww mom, what would I want to do reading a magazine about MUD?” Needless to say my clever ruse did not pull the wool over said maaaa’s eyes (the maaa is because sheep say baaa…get it?). That same day I went and saw MAJOR LEAGUE in the theater and PUMP UP THE VOLUME came out as well. Coincidentally they both had nice boobies in them. I opted out of discipline hell by blaming the nudie drawings on the kid down the street; he had a boxing ring in his basement, and called out his mom on me after I knocked him down in it. See the movie “ya knumbskull”. HEAD is the best psychedelic musical ever made. "How?" you ask? How could the friggin’ “Hey Hey we’re the Monkees” make good psych music, let alone the greatest psych rock film of all time? Well after some thought I have reached a conclusion: the Monkees were trained actors, thus qualified to make a film and exist in alternate realities believably. Also Jack Nicholson wrote this film (and appears in another good movie of 2006, THE DEPARTED). He obviously watched and was aware of their life as childhood TV icons, and plays to the constructs of the TV show while lampooning the show, the band, and the culture they were most comfortable in. At this point in their career the Monkees (well some of the Monkees) were pissed and wanted to write their own music. I’m simplifying and skimming the history but that is beside the point. This film showcases this aspect and also makes fun of them for being “puppets of the man.” The music rules, Zappa is in it, and the boys behind EASY RIDER also made this film. If you haven't seen it, drop acid and take a look as you are coming down. Also in brief, a funny Monkees story: My dad takes me and my brother on occasional bonding baseball trips whereupon we scour the nation watching Minor League baseball games and playing day golf, basketball, etc. These trips are awesome and DAD you rule and I love you, thank you (come on now! -ed.) . Anyhow, we ended up at an Iowa Cubs game, and who should show up after the show to play but the Monkees! This was the first time I ever grasped how big and deep a following they have. The already packed stadium packed tighter, and after a "Last Train to Clarksville," they each took turns busting into their solo catalogues pre- and post-Monkee, including some weird jazz number led by the drummer. The craziest most body-snatcher moment came in the midst of a rendition of some solo Davie Jones not-even-b-side from the seventies: I noticed that nearly the entire crowd was singing along. What? I mean it was seriously like this: “Hello I am Davie Jones, this here is a song that I wrote in secrecy when I was pondering the US Navy becoming the world’s largest astronaut butterfly net and I haven’t played it for anyone ever, and the band doesn’t even know it, and its called 'Driver Diver', and it goes like this,” and everyone in the audience sang along. Each band member took turns out-obscuring the other and the crowd bit, chewed, and ate it up. It was psychedelic to be there. Like watching their movie. Listen: the Monkees are the bang bang. And the Beatles totally bit their shnit. As for the last movie on this mini-list inside a list, CHRISTMAS VACATION is funny if you like your family, or don’t like your family. This is my mom’s favorite movie, and I love my mom very much, and it makes her happy, and it also makes me happy, because it makes her happy (come ON now!! -ed.) . But I would like this even if that wasn’t the case. Chevy Chase is a likeable fool in this film, the old folks are funny, the kids are funny, it's not overly long, lots of good slapstick, etc. I advise that you rent the whole series of these "vacation" movies. The first two feature great boobies, and because that totally wasn’t the point of these recommendations, rent them for that reason. And a "bahaat" to you. posted by cansafis ## Oh shit the brother kevekev.com totally updated with even more missives to come. posted by elvis ## Mr. Brians's "3-D dept." (glasses not included)
posted by mr. brian ## "Intersection" I I / I had a poem dreamt to me / About fruits and sabres / Mirrors all around you / Turn to glass and ice / Watch as it unfolds / The blue line on the subway / An attack toward the East / Now I know and need to stay / Reconnect these gifts and wires / The grey sky turns thick / Ascend the thin and shaky steps / Senses apprehend the paradox / Laughing bodies shake the tears / Strange this may be home / As she’s asking for her gift / And I speak in silent tones / There is no one hears but us / My body is a lion / Green and pink encode the space / Smoking firewood and breathing / From the basement of the Temple / An apprentice to the trade / With a belly full of sugar / Raising blades the brace the gate / As the sage spoke “Neti, neti” / I dismiss ten thousand faces / Placing the hand / Technologies, texts / I wait for that old mystery / And the burning invisibility / Knowing the field with my epee / I posted by chauncey ## 'arts 4 farts' presents:
posted by cansafis ## |
