Saturday, September 26, 2009

a word on anonymity

a•non•y•mous |əˌnɒnɪməs|
• having no outstanding, individual, or unusual features; unremarkable or impersonal : the anonymous black car waiting to take him to the airport | a faceless, anonymous group.

ORIGIN late 16th cent.: via late Latin from Greek anōnumos ‘nameless’ (from an- ‘without’ + onoma ‘name’ ) + -ous .

ass•hole |ˌɑːshəʊl|

noun vulgar slang
the anus.
• an irritating or contemptible person.

For anonymous. In part.

Have I gained myself a stalker ? Or just some sporadic nuisance in the form of an ugly rash ?

A brief report on yesterday's time management:

I have languished on our fold down sofa the better part of all day, alternately rolled out on my back or reclining on one elbow like some bedridden Roman despot.

Aside from making early morning coffees - and connecting, or disconnecting, cables on demand in one room or another - the sole exercise I have partaken in thus far has involved sneezing copiously into wadded tissues and barking like a sea lion.

In short, I am stricken by nothing more than a cold.

I was compelled to watch a little car crash tv. The
X Factor has gone into 'Boot Camp' mode. This involved separating those contestants who have made it through the preliminary auditions into three adjoining rooms. There they sweated and tried to compose themselves while the committee gathered to deliver their verdict and enter stage left.

Sadly, somebody neglected to release the Zyklon B.

Featuring Armand Schaubroeck:

CHURCHMICE: COLLEGE PSYCHOLOGY ON LOVE from "Babe, We Are Not Part Of Society b/w College Psychology On Love" 45 (House of Guitars) 1965 (US)


Anonymous said...

You're being nice again - you must stop it. obviously too much time on your hands.

ib said...


And a little hover of the mouse reveals... surely not!

ib said...

Jesus. The church mouse is seldom wrong.


A lot of people would like to see armand schaubroeck dead

Your driver said...

Wow, that was stunningly bad. Breathtakingly bad. It was majestic in it's awfulness. I love it! It completely gives the lie to the myth of "progressive rock". I used to argue with the prog rockers who insisted that, from it's foundation, rock and roll was struggling to grow and evolve. I would insist that rock and roll was born stupid and childish and was ever striving to grow more pure. More stupid more childish. Trouble was, for them to concede my point, they need merely confess that they don't like rock and roll. For some reason, they could not bring themselves to do such a thing. One listen to this record might well have forced them to concede that their interest in the wives of Henry the VIIIth was based in a taste for light opera. And there's nothing wrong with light opera BTW. Feel free to love it. Just don't use it to muddy the pure stream of rock and you know.

ib said...

Thanks, NØ! A lot of people might want to see Armand dead. I ain't one of 'em...


Nah, not too stunningly bad at all, I don't feel. Kind of like the Velvets might have sounded, maybe, without Andy's patronage or some other negating influence. I love this kinda shit. Just like you.

I am a huge devotee of Armand Schaubroeck. However. If he ever took the piss out of me, personally, I might just renege on that confidentiality. 'Ratfucker' is an album of mystic delights. I am proud to have known at least one person in the band I used to play in who owned that LP. Wasn't me. But, Jesus, I picked up on it soon enough... Good thing too. I am a childish motherf@cker. Cosa Nostra kid or brown assed stool pigeon.

@eloh said...

""Sadly, somebody neglected to release the Zyklon B.""

And, Sadly, I had none to release in my own shower this past week when the yard man...yes yard man, says...."I've finished...could I use your bathroom"...and takes a shower!

I remain stunned and speachless.

My real life is a bad soap opera.

ib said...

F@ck the audacity, @eloh...

What else remains but to hit the button ?

I am listening right now, I kid you not, to "In The Ghetto". Possibly the best piece of Memphis Jive ever written.

I think I love you.

ib said...

And so it was a this point that I retired - shaken by the hacking away at an anonymous tirade in my own night of the long knives - to listen to far more Elvis Aaron Presley than prescription safely warrants.

Thinking on the scale of bad form involved in taking an elicit shower. Incredible.