08 Mar Goblin Reich vs. The Boys of Summer + Matador Playlist 3/2/17
Gentle Reader(s), I am returned. My mental and emotional constitution have been reeling from the loss of the incomparable Goofaman, but it’s time to get back on the beam and return to the fray, such as it were. I find it hard to comprehend that the Goof isn’t out there still (‘there’ meaning the physical world and its immediate environs) and that today or tomorrow I’ll open my email to find one of his patented multi-page rants or another ethereal soundscape or video collage demanding my attention. It’s a boggler, folks, so bear with me. I’ll spend the remainder of my days thinking of that boy. I don’t expect his likes will never cross my path again.
My mental and emotional peregrinations were sidetracked for a while today by something that was pitched, on short notice, as an announcement of the Orange Goblin’s new nominee for the post of Secretary of Labor (the prior nominee having beat a preemptive retreat due to his horrendous record and lack of support, even from amongst the Rethuglican senate). The announcement itself took all of 90 seconds whereupon the O.G. Launched into a bizarre, rambling, stream of consciousness tirade/rant that also served as a press conference. The Goblin insisted that his administration—which, to all appearances and level-headed assessment has been nothing less than Keystone Kops-style clusterfuck—was running ‘like a fine-tuned machine.’ If that fine-tuned machine were a car it’d be offered on Craig’s List for ‘Make me an offer.’ If it were a critter the only decent thing to do would be to take it out back of the barn and put a bullet through it’s brainpan. If it were a movie it would be the less-successful sequel to ‘Plan 9 From Outer Space.’ I could go on. I won’t go on.
The gist of the Goblin’s deranged maunderings was that he and his Goblinistration were kicking butt—Bigly—and it was the awful, dishonest, ‘out of control’ media that was doing him dirt. He whined, whinged, howled and cajoled for an hour and 20 minutes before finally emptying his id sufficiently to slither back to the Oval Office to compose his next Tweet. It was an extraordinary performance that likely has no precedent in presidential history. Verging on incoherence at times, there was scarcely one sentence or thought that found cohesion betwixt and between subject and object, beginning, middle or end.
It was shortly after this stream of unconsciousness marathon that the Goblin decided to up the ante from ‘dishonest media’ to ‘very dishonest media’ to ‘Enemy of the People.’ A line was crossed there and it’s still unclear as to whether the O.G. had any concept of the full portent of the use of that phrase. Without any doubt, the use of the phrase was a result of the machinations of the Himmler/Goebbels combo manifested by Steve Bannon. The unholy triumvirate of Conway/Spicer/Miller are stooges, pure and simple—talking heads and nothing more. 31-year-old Montgomery Burns aspirant Stephen Miller isn’t even a marginally competent liar. If you’re trying to bullshit people at least put some genuine effort into it, for crissakes. Try to pretend like you have some marginal degree of confidence in the lies that you’re spouting! It’s insulting to all of us to have a witless fool like Miller trotted out there. He’s not fooling us and blatantly obvious that he’s not even fooling himself. Sad!
But the Russian thing, Gentle Reader(s): It just won’t quit. It won’t go away. It’s real and it has emerged as the Goblinistration’s Achilles Heel. Michael Flynn has gone bye bye and now Jeff Sessions is caught in the merciless spotlight, flinching in the harsh glare of his own lies. Sadly, lying to the American citizenry is not a crime. If it were, the Orange Goblin would have been impeached already. Lying to Congress and the FBI are a different matter. And that’s where the Goblin’s crew are going to find that they’ve stepped in shit. Bigly. The classic question is already being put forth: ‘What did the President know and when did he know it?’ That’s vintage 1970s stuff there, boys and girls.
But that’s all ancient history now—aeons ago in Twitter cycles, if you will. Last Tuesday, the O.G. managed to bamboozle all of those willing to be bamboozled into thinking that maybe, perhaps, perchance, possibly, conceivably, he was not a complete psychopath by sticking to the script and delivering a relatively coherent address to a joint session of congress. That delusion lasted for, what—24? 36 hours? By the end of the week the Goblin was back to upping the Insanity ante, spouting deranged and insulting fever dreams about President Obama wiretapping his gaudy gilded hidey hole on 5th Avenue. Can you believe this shit, folks? No, neither can I. The O.G.’s own shills have been dodging and stepping ever since: Sean Spicer declined to comment on the wiretap allegations, saying that such matters were ‘above his pay grade.’ Above his pay grade?? If that were the issue, Spicer should be appending his press briefings with ‘Do you want fries with that?’
But last Tuesday was Mardi Gras here in New Orleans, where YHN is in temporary residence, and everyone therefore missed the O.G.’s presentation. They were drunk and stoned then and they’re still hungover and/or repenting now. Ain’t nothing going to harsh your buzz quite like a solid dose of Goblinistics on Fat Tuesday eve, no thank you please! Laissez le bon temps, rouller!
But guess what? Can you guess? Well, I’m a gonna tell you. Spring is coming. Spring is coming and that means warm weather. And warm weather means baseball. And baseball means joy. There’s nothing like that feeling, Gentle Reader(s), and it never ever gets old. The crack of the bat. The green of the outfield. The popcorn and the hotdogs. Pat Hughes proclaiming ‘Chicago Cubs baseball is ON THE AIR!’ I love it and I’ll never stop loving it. Nothing can take that away from me. This season has a special resonance for Your Humble Narrator. Not only have 108 years of Cubs futility finally been put to rest, but rarely has there been a more welcome distraction from the foul temper of the times. I can stop dwelling obsessively on the Orange Goblin and turn my attention instead to the Great Grizzled Sage—Joe Maddon. Look at those two faces at the top of this page. Which one would you rather spend your time with?
For the eternal return of the Boys of Summer, I am thankful. Very very thankful. My ranting and raging against the Goblin and his Hideous Hordes is utterly pointless anyway, despite what the Russian Hackbots dashing themselves at the digital gates of InkyInkInc might think. I rant and rage because I feel I must, but HEY—fuck the Goblin! The Beisbol is back, baybee!
There has been a paucity of Matador Playlists lately. Perhaps you’ve noticed. Perhaps you haven’t. Perhaps you could give less of a shite. Be that as it may, the reason for this paucity is that Your Humble Narrator has been letting Discretion be the Better Part of Valor. Meaning, it’s been dead at the bar, folks. Really dead. I’ve been bailing out regularly around 11:00 PM, the prospect of a $20 reward for six hours of DJ-ing being rather too discouraging. I’ve done about five partial evenings since the new year, but tonight I’m going to do the distance I think. Wish me luck.
Okay, enough bullshit: Here’s the list:
Grammar of Life – Charles Bukowski
Narcotic Prayer – Chris Whitley
Changes – David Bowie
Wahoo – Meatbodies
Ash May & Dr. Love Wisdom – the Babe Rainbow
Voodoo Cadillac – Southern Culture on the Skids
Antenna – Sonic Youth
Have A Drink on Me – AC/DC
1979 – Smashing Pumpkins
Space Captian – Joe Cocker
Black Balloon – the Kills
Rattlesnake – King Gizzard and the Wizard Lizard
Mother’s Little Helper – The Rolling Stones
Nausea – X
Skip Divided – Thom Yorke
What’d I Say, Pt. 1 & 2 – Ray Charles
Love Buzz – Shocking Blue
Alternative Ulster – Stiff Little Fingers
Outlaw Heart – Tiger Army
Lonesome, On’ry and Mean – Waylon Jennings
Ex Lion Tamer – Wire
Larks’ Tongue in Aspic Pt. II- King Crimson
Dedicated Follower of Fashion – the Kinks
Teenage Lobotomy – the Ramones
Heart of Stone – the Rolling Stones
The Ocean – Led Zeppelin
Where Have All the Good Times Gone – the Kinks
Mean Man – Betty Harris
Lithium – Nirvana
Fight the Power – Public Enemy
No One Knows – Queens of the Stone Age
Get Rhythm – Rev. Horton Heat
Bug – Wavves
My Little Red Book – Love
Heart Massage – Los Hermanos de Gein
Boyfriend – Best Coast
Come Together – MC5
Godless – the Dandy Warhols
Oh! You Pretty Things – David Bowie
2+2=5 – Radiohead
Kerosene – Big Black
Limo Wreck – Soundgarden
Skinny Jim – Eddie Cochran
(I Don’t Want to Go to) Chelsea – Elvis Costello
Cop Cars – the Exploited
Natural’s Not In It – Gang of Four
Why Don’t You Love Me – Hank Williams
German Days – Iggy Pop + Josh Homme
Nobody’s Fault But Mine – Led Zeppelin
Tour de France – Kraftwerk
Switchblade – Lars Frederiksen & the Bastards
Mother Popcorn – James Brown
Floor of the Ocean – Mark Lanegan Band
Coal Miner’s Daughter – Loretta Lynn
Roll With It – Oasis
Just A Gigolo/I Ain’t Got Nobody – Louis Prima
Monkey – Low
Something In the Air – Thunderclap Newman
Walk Into the Mirror – Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks
Sweet Home Alabama – Lynyrd Skynyrd
18 With A Bullet – Pete Wingfield
Dazed and Cornfused – Led Zeppelin
Mezzanine – Massive Attack
Another Life – Rollins Band
Rivers of Babylon – the Melodians
She’s About A Mover – Texas Tornados
Monkey Gone to Heaven – the Pixies
Baby, Tell Me What I’m On – the New York Dolls
Surf City – the Meteors
I Walked With A Zombie – Roky Erickson & the Aliens
Nearly Lost You – Screaming Trees
Brass In Pocket – the Pretenders
Here to Stay – New Order
Nicotine Fit – Voodoo Glow Skulls
World Without Tears – Lucinda Williams
Buona Sera – Louis Prima
Happy Trails – Roy Rogers & Dale Evans (feat. Trigger on Orange Sackbutt)
Taxi – Bryan Ferry
