I first encountered the late great Gil Scott-Heron in a lonely movie theater on a cold Saturday night in El Paso, TX. I was trying to lose myself in what was quickly becoming one of my favourite films, The Hurricane, as this motherfucker of a song came on. If my memory serves me well, it was the musical accompaniment to a boxing scene, and it seemed that Denzel Washington, in the role of the fierce Reuben "Hurricane" Carter moved with grace and precision, in perfect time with this revolutionary, proto-hip hop song. He was dancing and destroying, and he moved as only the best fighters do, like a dancer, and a poet, a sex machine, and a killer, all to a groooooove.
I didn't give a shit if the song was a "black" thing. It had an indestructible and infectious rhythm, the kind I was beginning to discover in Sly, Miles, and Band Of Gypsies-era Hendrix. Lyrically, it attacked many of the same things I hated about the culture in which I lived, so black or white, it speaking to me and other punk rockers and bebopers.
The film also hipped me to Dylan's great song about Reuben Carter, and helped me through a rotten break up, but that's another story.
Rest In Peace, Gil Scott-Heron, poet, OG hip hop revolutionary.
I didn't give a shit if the song was a "black" thing. It had an indestructible and infectious rhythm, the kind I was beginning to discover in Sly, Miles, and Band Of Gypsies-era Hendrix. Lyrically, it attacked many of the same things I hated about the culture in which I lived, so black or white, it speaking to me and other punk rockers and bebopers.
The film also hipped me to Dylan's great song about Reuben Carter, and helped me through a rotten break up, but that's another story.
Rest In Peace, Gil Scott-Heron, poet, OG hip hop revolutionary.
I don't mind the
wait,
and unlike what
some corny mystic con men may say,
it does not sweeten
the pot,
but is rather
a part of life itself,
sweet enough,
to embrace loss
forever.
wait,
and unlike what
some corny mystic con men may say,
it does not sweeten
the pot,
but is rather
a part of life itself,
sweet enough,
to embrace loss
forever.
After reading the last tear-stained missive, I came to a frustrating, but healthy conclusion:
As amazing as the woman I fell in love with may be, in her absence, I have built her up to almost mythic proportions. She went from a love interest to the only one who could satisfy me. She went from beautiful to the most beautiful woman ever. She became the only person with whom I'd ever had anything in common. Sound like mental illness? Of course it does!
Romantic love is akin to short term insanity, and I'm cool with that. One should be divorced from the rational at times. Fortunately, life is not all paying bills and Ayn Rand novels. Fall in love. Smoke a joint. Listen to a Sonic Youth record or dig a Jodorowsky film. It's good for you to embrace the Dionysian from time to time, and don't kid yourself, love is as captivating and judgement-altering as dope. As the late, great, Hunter S. Thompson advised, "Buy the ticket. Take the ride."
Just the same, I've put this poor woman on so high a pedestal, that were I to weasel my way back into her life, she could never live up to my wacky expectations. Funny how that works. In effect, it began and ended in my head, which would be funny if it weren't true. Funny how THAT works.
Heartbreak isn't so bad, either. For me, it's the Apollonian part of the equation. In many ways, heartbreak is the best thing that's happened to me since the last heartbreak. I pushes me to write, play music, read books, get a happening wardrobe, and get into shape. I dare say that I'm in better mental and physical shape than before I went off the deep end for a pretty girl.
Still, I wouldn't change a thing. I stand by my insanity. She was that good.
As amazing as the woman I fell in love with may be, in her absence, I have built her up to almost mythic proportions. She went from a love interest to the only one who could satisfy me. She went from beautiful to the most beautiful woman ever. She became the only person with whom I'd ever had anything in common. Sound like mental illness? Of course it does!
Romantic love is akin to short term insanity, and I'm cool with that. One should be divorced from the rational at times. Fortunately, life is not all paying bills and Ayn Rand novels. Fall in love. Smoke a joint. Listen to a Sonic Youth record or dig a Jodorowsky film. It's good for you to embrace the Dionysian from time to time, and don't kid yourself, love is as captivating and judgement-altering as dope. As the late, great, Hunter S. Thompson advised, "Buy the ticket. Take the ride."
Just the same, I've put this poor woman on so high a pedestal, that were I to weasel my way back into her life, she could never live up to my wacky expectations. Funny how that works. In effect, it began and ended in my head, which would be funny if it weren't true. Funny how THAT works.
Heartbreak isn't so bad, either. For me, it's the Apollonian part of the equation. In many ways, heartbreak is the best thing that's happened to me since the last heartbreak. I pushes me to write, play music, read books, get a happening wardrobe, and get into shape. I dare say that I'm in better mental and physical shape than before I went off the deep end for a pretty girl.
Still, I wouldn't change a thing. I stand by my insanity. She was that good.
As I've been away from writing for a good while, I figure there's no better place to start than with a good bit of heartbreak. Boo-fucking-hoo!
Her name is Desiree. I'd seen her in the hell that is my place of employment a few times, and as she was the prettiest woman I'd ever seen, no shit, I couldn't get her out of my head. When I saw her again, I told her this, asked her out, and much to my surprise, she said yes! She had just gotten out of a three year relationship, so we planned to take as slow as was necessary, which I was happy to do, and which worked well for a total of one long phone conversation and three dates.
Over the course of those three dates and one telephone conversation, I realized that I had more in common with this beautiful woman than anyone I'd ever met. We both had similar eclectic record collections (anyone who has the second Public Image Ltd album, one of the greatest things you'll EVER hear, a few inches from the slime that is Motley Crue is my kinda gal), we both came from eerily similar families, we both had an affinity for all things horror and Halloween (she drives a hearse for fucks sake, decorated her pad in Halloween decor, but isn't as cliched as many in the goth scene), and we're both English majors, vegetarians, atheists.
The conversation and laughter flowed freely, and I felt utterly at ease with her. I could tell that she was still going through some hell over her last relationship, so I remained a gentleman, and reassured her that slow was cool with me. Indeed it was, as it was rather romantic for a cat like me.
After a while, she became reclusive, only communicating with me via text message, and even failed to respond when I asked her what time she wanted me to pick her up for a date we had the following evening. When I politely bowed out, saying that I knew when I wasn't wanted, she apologized saying that she was in a bad place. When I asked if there was a spot for me in her life at a later time, she quite understandably couldn't say.
I gave her her space, and a week later, I asked her if her reluctance to see me recently hadn't just been a very nice way of saying that she wasn't into me. I would have been fine with that answer, as it would have allowed me to get on with my life. Instead, she said that she had already answered that question (she hadn't), and as such that meant that she and I were emotionally incompatible! I fought it for a bit, saying that she had misunderstood my text message (her only way of communicating), but I gave up quickly, left her a very polite text message, and deleted her number, expecting to be over the whole thing in a week or so.
Since then, I've had a terribly hard time getting over the fact that the woman with whom I had more in common and to whom I was more attracted than anyone I've ever met in my 35 years has quickly come and gone. For a lot of people, having a lot in common with a mate isn't as important as a lot of other things, but not for me. If you eat meat, believe in god, or don't understand my passion for music and all things creepy, you can still be my friend, but chances are, I don't want to wake up next to you more than once or twice. Perhaps that will change one day.
Normally, I wouldn't go into such details for all to see, but I need advice. I'd like to look her up in six months, and see where it goes. Not having her phone number anymore, the only way I could do this would be to show up on her door with flowers and a big smile. As good-intentioned as this would be, I know that many women wouldn't take it as such, and I don't want to be seen as a stalker nut job. I also acknowledge the possibility of being shot down, which, after six months of patience, would hurt like a motherfucker.
Logically, I'm very much against this idea, but matters of the heart are hardly logical, and I have a hard time letting go of the coolest thing I've found. Any and all words of advice would be greatly appreciated, SGers.
Cheers.
Her name is Desiree. I'd seen her in the hell that is my place of employment a few times, and as she was the prettiest woman I'd ever seen, no shit, I couldn't get her out of my head. When I saw her again, I told her this, asked her out, and much to my surprise, she said yes! She had just gotten out of a three year relationship, so we planned to take as slow as was necessary, which I was happy to do, and which worked well for a total of one long phone conversation and three dates.
Over the course of those three dates and one telephone conversation, I realized that I had more in common with this beautiful woman than anyone I'd ever met. We both had similar eclectic record collections (anyone who has the second Public Image Ltd album, one of the greatest things you'll EVER hear, a few inches from the slime that is Motley Crue is my kinda gal), we both came from eerily similar families, we both had an affinity for all things horror and Halloween (she drives a hearse for fucks sake, decorated her pad in Halloween decor, but isn't as cliched as many in the goth scene), and we're both English majors, vegetarians, atheists.
The conversation and laughter flowed freely, and I felt utterly at ease with her. I could tell that she was still going through some hell over her last relationship, so I remained a gentleman, and reassured her that slow was cool with me. Indeed it was, as it was rather romantic for a cat like me.
After a while, she became reclusive, only communicating with me via text message, and even failed to respond when I asked her what time she wanted me to pick her up for a date we had the following evening. When I politely bowed out, saying that I knew when I wasn't wanted, she apologized saying that she was in a bad place. When I asked if there was a spot for me in her life at a later time, she quite understandably couldn't say.
I gave her her space, and a week later, I asked her if her reluctance to see me recently hadn't just been a very nice way of saying that she wasn't into me. I would have been fine with that answer, as it would have allowed me to get on with my life. Instead, she said that she had already answered that question (she hadn't), and as such that meant that she and I were emotionally incompatible! I fought it for a bit, saying that she had misunderstood my text message (her only way of communicating), but I gave up quickly, left her a very polite text message, and deleted her number, expecting to be over the whole thing in a week or so.
Since then, I've had a terribly hard time getting over the fact that the woman with whom I had more in common and to whom I was more attracted than anyone I've ever met in my 35 years has quickly come and gone. For a lot of people, having a lot in common with a mate isn't as important as a lot of other things, but not for me. If you eat meat, believe in god, or don't understand my passion for music and all things creepy, you can still be my friend, but chances are, I don't want to wake up next to you more than once or twice. Perhaps that will change one day.
Normally, I wouldn't go into such details for all to see, but I need advice. I'd like to look her up in six months, and see where it goes. Not having her phone number anymore, the only way I could do this would be to show up on her door with flowers and a big smile. As good-intentioned as this would be, I know that many women wouldn't take it as such, and I don't want to be seen as a stalker nut job. I also acknowledge the possibility of being shot down, which, after six months of patience, would hurt like a motherfucker.
Logically, I'm very much against this idea, but matters of the heart are hardly logical, and I have a hard time letting go of the coolest thing I've found. Any and all words of advice would be greatly appreciated, SGers.
Cheers.
I will, no doubt, omit some really great songs. Off the top of my head, in no particular order.
1. Social Distortion - Ball and Chain
2. Ramones - Pet Sematary
3. Black Flag - My War
4. The Cramps - Bikini Girls With Machine Guns
5. Slayer - War Ensemble
6. Iggy Pop - Beside You
7. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Are You The One That I've Been Waiting For
8. Einstuerzende Neubauten - Haus Der Luege
9. Manic Street Preachers - If You Tolerate This Then Your Children Will Be Next
10. Nirvana - All Apologies
11. The Cult - Fire Woman
12. Joe Strummer & The Latino Rockabilly War - Trash City
13. Jane's Addiction - Mountain Song
14. 16 Horsepower - Black Soul Choir
15. Public Enemy - Fight The Power
16. Murder City Devils - 18 Wheels
17. Motorhead - R.A.M.O.N.E.S
18. The Smiths - There Is A Light That Never Goes Out
19. Tom Waits - I Don't Wanna Grow Up
20. Minutemen - History Lesson Part II
21. Leonard Cohen - Hallelujah
22. Van Halen - Hot For Teacher
23. N.W.A. - Straight Outta Compton
24. Radiohead - Karma Police
25. Peter Murphy - Cuts You Up
Look And Listen To All 25
1. Social Distortion - Ball and Chain
2. Ramones - Pet Sematary
3. Black Flag - My War
4. The Cramps - Bikini Girls With Machine Guns
5. Slayer - War Ensemble
6. Iggy Pop - Beside You
7. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Are You The One That I've Been Waiting For
8. Einstuerzende Neubauten - Haus Der Luege
9. Manic Street Preachers - If You Tolerate This Then Your Children Will Be Next
10. Nirvana - All Apologies
11. The Cult - Fire Woman
12. Joe Strummer & The Latino Rockabilly War - Trash City
13. Jane's Addiction - Mountain Song
14. 16 Horsepower - Black Soul Choir
15. Public Enemy - Fight The Power
16. Murder City Devils - 18 Wheels
17. Motorhead - R.A.M.O.N.E.S
18. The Smiths - There Is A Light That Never Goes Out
19. Tom Waits - I Don't Wanna Grow Up
20. Minutemen - History Lesson Part II
21. Leonard Cohen - Hallelujah
22. Van Halen - Hot For Teacher
23. N.W.A. - Straight Outta Compton
24. Radiohead - Karma Police
25. Peter Murphy - Cuts You Up
Look And Listen To All 25
The New York Dolls are great, and they know it. Sure, I've seen this kind of charisma on stage before tonight. Iggy's got it. Bowie's got it too, but you knew that.
David Johansen's got it as well, but while Iggy expresses it in animal ferocity, Johansen does it in sheer joy and guts. For all the artifice that may have gone into the Dolls' camp facade, this is a band that plays with more balls than glitter. If you saw anything else tonight, then you were there for the wrong reason.
Johansen's stage joy was positively contageous, and I belive, caused me to clap along with a band for the first time in my too-cool-for-school life, no shit. The best bands are like this, you know. They play for no reason other than the music being a part of their DNA. Methinks that's why we have a 21st century version of the Dolls. They had no choice but to come back.
In addition to most of their '73-'74 classics, they filled their set with almost 2/5 new material, something most bands hot on the reunion trail shy away from, including even the mighty Stooges. What impressed me about this, was that they made new songs, We're All In Love, Dance Like A Monkey, Fishnets & Cigarettes, Gotta Get Away From Tommy, Dancing On The Lip Of The Volcano, and Rainbow Store sound better than the versions on their oft-maligned 2006 album, One Day It Will Please Us To Remember Even This.
90 minutes in, they finished with Jet Boy, which in '73 was one of the greatest rock and roll moments anyone ever heard, and undoubtedly still is. As they left the stage, I hoped it would be their closing song, as it was that good.
Fortunately, I was dissapointed.
A three song encore, the highlight of which was a blistering Personality Crisis caused most of us to go batshit, and reminded me that life is a wonderful thing.
It appears we've finally made some headway.
I say "we" only as one of many who has bought the benefit CDs, T shirts, stickers, and wristbands, attended benefit concerts, read the books, watched the films, lectured friends, shed tears, etc all regarding Damien Echols, Jessie Misskelley, and Jason Baldwin, collectively known as the West Memphis Three. By now, anyone who knows me, knows their plight.
For the uninitiated, here's the skinny (courtesy of http://www.wm3.org):
Shortly after three eight-year-old boys were found mutilated and murdered in West Memphis, Arkansas, local newspapers stated the killers had been caught. The police assured the public that the three teenagers in custody were definitely responsible for these horrible crimes. Evidence? The same police officers coerced an error-filled "confession" from Jessie Misskelley Jr., who is mentally handicapped. They subjected him to 12 hours of questioning without counsel or parental consent, audio-taping only two fragments totaling 46 minutes. Jessie recanted it that evening, but it was too late_ Misskelley, Jason Baldwin and Damien Echols were all arrested on June 3, 1993, and convicted of murder in early 1994. Although there was no physical evidence, murder weapon, motive, or connection to the victims, the prosecution pathetically resorted to presenting black hair and clothing, heavy metal t-shirts, and Stephen King novels as proof that the boys were sacrificed in a satanic cult ritual. Unfathomably, Echols was sentenced to death, Baldwin received life without parole, and Misskelley got life plus 40. For ever 14 years, The West Memphis Three have been imprisoned for crimes they didn't commit. Echols waits in solitary confinement for the lethal injection our tax dollars will pay for. They were all condemned by their poverty, incompetent defense, satanic panic and a rush to judgment.
I heard about the case in mid 2002 via Henry Rollins. A few months later, he was in the studio with the Mother Superior, Iggy Pop, Keith Morris, Lemmy, Tom Araya, Ice T, Exene Cervenka, Hank III, Chuck Dukowski, et al to record a benefit album of Black Flag songs. A subsequent tour with Mother Superior and O.G. Black Flag and Circe Jerks singer Keith Morris hit the United States and Japan. In addition to raising awarness for the plight of the WM3, the purpose of the album and tour was to raise funds for DNA testing which would prove, once and for all, the guilt or innocence of Damien, Jessie, and Jason. The record was great, and the tour was even better. I was so excited, that before the tour hit Denver, I got Black Flag bars tattoed on my forearm.
Years went by, and I heard nothing. I rarely even heard Rollins talk about it at his spoken word gigs or on his radio show. And then this week, the motherfucking bomb dropped. As all appeals had long been exhausted, the WM3 had but one hope: a new law that allowed for an appeal in cases in which new technology, which could possibly exonerte the convicted, had been developed since the trial in which they were convicted.
On Tuesday, a Second Amended Petition for a Writ of Habeas Corpus (http://www.wm3.org/live/wm3memo.doc) was filed by Damien's lawyers. Simply put, it states that the DNA test results show that Damien, Jessie, and Jason were not at the crime scene. Period. It is my understanding that it's impossible not to leave DNA everywhere you go. Furthermore, the DNA of one of the murdered boy's stepfather was found at the scene.
Now here's the twist. Anyone who's read Mara Leveritt's Devi''s Knot: The True Story of the West Memphis Three (http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0743417593/freethewestmemph/)
or watched the second HBO documentary on the case, Paradise Lost: Revelations (http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00005MKOU/freethewestmemph/) is automatically thinking right now that John Mark Byers, stepfather of one of the victims, is the one who's DNA showed up at the scene. Let's be fair, the guy had a dubious police record, and on film, painted a fairly psychotic portrait of himself. Surprisingly though, it's not Byers, but Terry Hobbs, the stepfather of Stevie Branch who showed up in the DNA tests. In an even stranger twist, Byers, easily the most vocal of the WM3's opponents, when presented with the recent exonerating evidence, has now come out in their support.
To be fair, I'll not pass judgement on Mr. Hobbs until after the courts do. That said, these are the same courts that have so far stolen 13 years away from three innocent young men.
Another developement the defense has since presented was that the apparent mutilation of the three victims was not caused by a serated knife blade as the prosecution's half-baked case stated, but post mortem, by animals in the woods where the bodies were found.
To paraphrase Jello Biafra, "It could have been me. It could have been you." For that very reason, this case has weighed heavily on me, as it has on thousands of others who were misfits in their youth. Hell, I still am a misfit.
If you that witch hunts ended with McCarthy, think again.
Due to the bullshit of our legal system, they still have a long way to go, perhaps even years. If you think that the state of Arkansas will merely roll over and release Damien, Jessie, and Jason, think again. The pigs who put them behind bars will do everything they can to save face, regardless of the evidence, and they have taxpayers' dollars with which to fight.
All the WM3 have are us.
I beg of you, when payday hits, please pay a visit to www.wm3.org, and throw some money their way, either directly or by purchasing a t shirt, wrist band or sticker (very affordable) or by picking up the aformentioned CD.
If you've endured this much, please check out an ABC news broadcast on the case: http://www.abcnews.go.com/wn. I don't know how long this link will be up, so hit it ASAP, or try to find it via the good folks at http://www.wm3.org.
Thanks to the ever hip and alert purveyor of all things urgent, brother Tim Napalm for bringing this to my attention via a blog of his on Tuesday.
Rise Above!
I say "we" only as one of many who has bought the benefit CDs, T shirts, stickers, and wristbands, attended benefit concerts, read the books, watched the films, lectured friends, shed tears, etc all regarding Damien Echols, Jessie Misskelley, and Jason Baldwin, collectively known as the West Memphis Three. By now, anyone who knows me, knows their plight.
For the uninitiated, here's the skinny (courtesy of http://www.wm3.org):
Shortly after three eight-year-old boys were found mutilated and murdered in West Memphis, Arkansas, local newspapers stated the killers had been caught. The police assured the public that the three teenagers in custody were definitely responsible for these horrible crimes. Evidence? The same police officers coerced an error-filled "confession" from Jessie Misskelley Jr., who is mentally handicapped. They subjected him to 12 hours of questioning without counsel or parental consent, audio-taping only two fragments totaling 46 minutes. Jessie recanted it that evening, but it was too late_ Misskelley, Jason Baldwin and Damien Echols were all arrested on June 3, 1993, and convicted of murder in early 1994. Although there was no physical evidence, murder weapon, motive, or connection to the victims, the prosecution pathetically resorted to presenting black hair and clothing, heavy metal t-shirts, and Stephen King novels as proof that the boys were sacrificed in a satanic cult ritual. Unfathomably, Echols was sentenced to death, Baldwin received life without parole, and Misskelley got life plus 40. For ever 14 years, The West Memphis Three have been imprisoned for crimes they didn't commit. Echols waits in solitary confinement for the lethal injection our tax dollars will pay for. They were all condemned by their poverty, incompetent defense, satanic panic and a rush to judgment.
I heard about the case in mid 2002 via Henry Rollins. A few months later, he was in the studio with the Mother Superior, Iggy Pop, Keith Morris, Lemmy, Tom Araya, Ice T, Exene Cervenka, Hank III, Chuck Dukowski, et al to record a benefit album of Black Flag songs. A subsequent tour with Mother Superior and O.G. Black Flag and Circe Jerks singer Keith Morris hit the United States and Japan. In addition to raising awarness for the plight of the WM3, the purpose of the album and tour was to raise funds for DNA testing which would prove, once and for all, the guilt or innocence of Damien, Jessie, and Jason. The record was great, and the tour was even better. I was so excited, that before the tour hit Denver, I got Black Flag bars tattoed on my forearm.
Years went by, and I heard nothing. I rarely even heard Rollins talk about it at his spoken word gigs or on his radio show. And then this week, the motherfucking bomb dropped. As all appeals had long been exhausted, the WM3 had but one hope: a new law that allowed for an appeal in cases in which new technology, which could possibly exonerte the convicted, had been developed since the trial in which they were convicted.
On Tuesday, a Second Amended Petition for a Writ of Habeas Corpus (http://www.wm3.org/live/wm3memo.doc) was filed by Damien's lawyers. Simply put, it states that the DNA test results show that Damien, Jessie, and Jason were not at the crime scene. Period. It is my understanding that it's impossible not to leave DNA everywhere you go. Furthermore, the DNA of one of the murdered boy's stepfather was found at the scene.
Now here's the twist. Anyone who's read Mara Leveritt's Devi''s Knot: The True Story of the West Memphis Three (http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0743417593/freethewestmemph/)
or watched the second HBO documentary on the case, Paradise Lost: Revelations (http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00005MKOU/freethewestmemph/) is automatically thinking right now that John Mark Byers, stepfather of one of the victims, is the one who's DNA showed up at the scene. Let's be fair, the guy had a dubious police record, and on film, painted a fairly psychotic portrait of himself. Surprisingly though, it's not Byers, but Terry Hobbs, the stepfather of Stevie Branch who showed up in the DNA tests. In an even stranger twist, Byers, easily the most vocal of the WM3's opponents, when presented with the recent exonerating evidence, has now come out in their support.
To be fair, I'll not pass judgement on Mr. Hobbs until after the courts do. That said, these are the same courts that have so far stolen 13 years away from three innocent young men.
Another developement the defense has since presented was that the apparent mutilation of the three victims was not caused by a serated knife blade as the prosecution's half-baked case stated, but post mortem, by animals in the woods where the bodies were found.
To paraphrase Jello Biafra, "It could have been me. It could have been you." For that very reason, this case has weighed heavily on me, as it has on thousands of others who were misfits in their youth. Hell, I still am a misfit.
If you that witch hunts ended with McCarthy, think again.
Due to the bullshit of our legal system, they still have a long way to go, perhaps even years. If you think that the state of Arkansas will merely roll over and release Damien, Jessie, and Jason, think again. The pigs who put them behind bars will do everything they can to save face, regardless of the evidence, and they have taxpayers' dollars with which to fight.
All the WM3 have are us.
I beg of you, when payday hits, please pay a visit to www.wm3.org, and throw some money their way, either directly or by purchasing a t shirt, wrist band or sticker (very affordable) or by picking up the aformentioned CD.
If you've endured this much, please check out an ABC news broadcast on the case: http://www.abcnews.go.com/wn. I don't know how long this link will be up, so hit it ASAP, or try to find it via the good folks at http://www.wm3.org.
Thanks to the ever hip and alert purveyor of all things urgent, brother Tim Napalm for bringing this to my attention via a blog of his on Tuesday.
Rise Above!
