NEW DIGS

Be back in the mix soon enough.  Living in Madison, Wisconsin equals insanely ripe material.  C U soon.

Some new jams on the horizon.  Currently I'm listening to a session of conga and bata that Diller and I recorded last weekend here.  A new .99 DREAMS slab is under construction.  Other shit too.  Stay tuned.

Today I'd like to touch on the idea of integrity.  To me it just means being real about your shit.  And being real means exactly: serious and disciplined.  I went shopping today.  I make the trip to Trader Joe's in Danbury because, although it is a hundred mile round trip, my bill is still lower and my cart is still fuller than it would be even if I bought all the comprable items on sale here in town.  And that tally includes gas and excludes all the chemical bullshit in most of the food at the "super" market.

I wanted to get the trip out of the way, so I left early.  Or late, depending on how you feel and interpret daylight savings.  In route I figured I could always get an egg and cheese to hold me until I get home with the fresh goods.  While in Newburgh I spotted a bagel spot.  I like bagels.  I make a right turn into the mini mall...
A word on the preparation of egg and cheeses.  I do not own, nor do I condone the use of microwave ovens.  I ask you--How many of you cook and egg or two in a plastic bowl?  How many of you would then think it's a good idea to put said nuked embryos onto a piece of bread, plate or a bagel?  I hope none of you motherfuckers, cause that's where I'm at.  And that's my point.  Spinning the water molecules to cook eggs makes very fucking gross tasting eggs.  Don't believe me?  Try it.  Then lie to me--and yourself--about how the texture seems natural and tasty.  Bullshit.  That method is best avoided and I always do my best to do exactly that.
This business also advertised other fare that needs to be cooked on a grill.  It even said "oldest bagel shop in Orange County" above the door.  There is no way I'm losing.  A freshly prepared egg and cheese on a well made bagel is magical.

"Can I help you, sir"?

"Yeah, can I get an egg and cheese on a toasted everything bagel?"

"Salt, pepper and ketchup?"

"Yeah.  Thanks."

The taste bud snares are set.   Have I found a new spot?  Could the truth be sizzling away back behind the counter?  Is integrity in the house?

A few minutes later:  "Here you go, sir."

I get a good detailed look at the chick handing me the bag.  Trouble.  Shit ain't feeling right.  She's got bleached hair, a fake tan, fake bright blue eyes and blindingly white teeth.  Holy shit, she looks like a nineteen year old that just opted for the Paula Deen makeover.  I'm sure some of the local bowhunters think this chick is hot, especially when she's smoking Newports and shooting Red Bull and vodka but to me all I see are my hopes and dreams of a good egg and cheese shot to shit.

I roll out to the car and reflect.   I'm in upstate New York,  it's almost seventy degrees outside, the sun is licking my skin,  and it's the second week of fucking March.  I start to forget Paula and begin to focus on my little brown bag that's hiding my egg and cheese.   Not all is lost.  I can still win.  I pull that little foil wrapped bastard out of the bag and open the shit up.

YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME.

The egg is non-existant, the bagel isn't toasted and worst of all:  THE CHEESE ISN'T EVEN FUCKING MELTED!

I want to tell myself how rare it is that I'm disappointed with what one thinks is acceptable.  And I"m not just talking about my sorry ass egg and cheese.  I"m addressing the fact that we're being TAUGHT that not good enough is good enough.  We're TAUGHT that if we don't do it someone else will and we might as well strike first because then we'll be right, or win or be in control or whatever and our gratification needs we have will be stroked.  I seriously doubt that the plastic dummy that handed me my egg and cheese would have made it the way she made it for me if she was going to eat it.  Maybe she would have increased the quality control if she knew me, or if she realized that I am a good Christian.  Maybe not.

No matter.  I ate it anyway and learned that integrity was most definitely not in the house.

So to all of you small minded pukes that put Fuck You in our food.

FUCK YOU!!!

It's about what you don't play.

Thank you Billy Mintz.

The Megaupload debacle is very encouraging.  It's like the federal government is a JOY continuous miner and the people are loose top ready to crush the machine just by the virtue of it's doing something it ain't ought to do.

Keep your heart right, soldiers.  The REAL will be needed.

Peace.

May many maus pass.  Verbal diarrhea and all that shit.  Straddling polarity while laughing and not worrying about the nots.  Knawmeen?  And through it all Love holds justly and reassures fully.  Always.  All transactions of movement just another cameo in time.  Temporary.  So far East it becomes West and the whole time you best pay attention.  Or not.  Choice is not yours.  Try not to and you just did, dig?  Of course.  Pork Chop.  And chop and chop and chop.  Your electricity just a continuum of relations.  Eloquence is the bullshit of mutherfuckers who just need to shut the fuck up.  No one is immune.  Not even me.  Peace.