Monday, August 14, 2017

Land of the sucker, home of the coward


You know about Charlottesville. You know what President Trump said (or, rather, didn't say) about Charlottesville.

You probably have heard some Trump-addled right-wing ditwad blame the neo-Nazi riot in the Virginia college town on former President Barack Obama, or Black Lives Matter . . . or on any damned thing apart from the neo-Nazis and their chief enabler and encourager, Donald Trump.


You even might have heard some Trump-loving American fascists -- and make no mistake, to love Donald Trump and his agenda is to be an American fascist -- blame Heather Heyer, 32, for her own death in an act of neo-Nazi domestic terrorism. I have heard just that. Then again, I am originally from the fascist stronghold of Baton Rouge, La., and sometimes read the comments on local news stories there.  (I need to quit doing that.)

Heather Heyer
As the demented Nazi-apologist argument (such as it is) goes, Heyer is to blame for her own demise . . . because she was there. And for being a hateful "libtard" who had the gall to protest against white-supremacists who, after all, were exercising their First Amendment rights.

In the words of the American troll's favorite American antihero, "BAD!" Or was it "SAD!" ? I forget.


THIS BRINGS me to something Al Jazeera English dug from the depths of YouTube. I hesitate to bring Al Jazeera into this, because someone sees "Al Jazeera," thinks "MUSLIN TERRORISS!!!" and what's left of their brain freezes up. Anyway. . . .

What the cable-news outlet found and posted to social media was a clip from the 1947 reissue of Don't Be a Sucker, a 1943 anti-fascist propaganda film produced by the U.S. War Department. Cliff's Notes version: The film opens with a montage of all the ways one can be suckered, segues into a fascist stump speaker on the courthouse square in Anytown, U.S.A., then outlines the rise and fall (and toll) of Nazi rule in Germany.

The clip going around Facebook, et al, was supposed to be a history-based argument on the evils of fascism and white supremacy. And that it indeed is. But if you hunt down Don't Be a Sucker on the Internet -- a high-quality version is downloadable from the Internet Archive -- and watch the whole thing, much more becomes clear. Clear as someone caught in the high-wattage beam of a concentration-camp spotlight.


Cleaned-up a bit for 21st-century consumption, the fascist agitator's spiel in the public square is a remarkable facsimile of a Donald Trump campaign speech. The National Socialists' tactics to divide and conquer German society resemble something as contemporary, and Trumpian, as today's headlines. And our divided, faltering American society today is ripe for the conquering.



DONALD TRUMP knew that two years ago. American Nazis and other assorted white supremacists know it today. It is no accident that many of the racist rabble on parade in Virginia were chanting "Heil, Trump!" as they gave their stiff-armed Nazi salutes.

What the government of the United States warned its citizens about more than 70 years ago now is running the United States government. American voters who damn well ought to have known better -- been better -- put fascism in that high position.


Think about that, if you can stomach it.

Then think about what the hell you're going to do about it.

Saturday, August 05, 2017

3 Chords & the Truth: The Electrical Process


This week on the Big Show, I guess we could talk and play into a big horn in the studio here in Omaha, by God, Nebraska . . . but I'm betting it'd sound bad and you wouldn't hear anything very well.

So we're using the electrical process, instead.

That means we're enunciating into a professional RCA broadcast microphone and using the best in audio and phonographic technology to bring to you the finest in musical entertainment on 3 Chords & the Truth. On the other hand, a fair amount of the music you will hear on this week's edition of the program predates the best in audio and phonographic technology.

Yes, some of these folks in the mid-1920s were speaking and singing into large horns in the studio which, in turn, wiggled a little stylus into a wax master recording. If you wanted microphonic amplification, you would have to go -- wait for it -- on the radio.

In 1925, the record industry had some catching up to do. It would begin, on some recordings, on some of the largest labels, late that year. Behold electrical recordings. Some were even Viva-tonal.

NO, I don't know what that was supposed to mean. Uh . . . it's viva but it is also tonal.

All I know is I want a little drink. Oh. . . .

1925. Damn.

But I digress. The point to this week's edition of the Big Show is that we're getting as far away from 2017, musically and zeitgeist-wise, as we possibly can without hiring a colonial band of fiddlers to drop in at your residence to play some Virginia reels for you.

That's the deal. And we're going back, in some cases, to 1925 and big recording horns in recording studios to do it.

Victor studio, Camden, N.J. -- 1925
Coincidentally, that's also an era when record companies thought the way to compete with that newfangled radio thing was to have popular radio announcers introduce the records. On the record.

WE'LL HEAR one of those, and we'll tell you what the record radio announcer went on to do not long after he was announcing records . . . on the actual record.

And as crazy a notion as this is, it's no match for modern times. So there's that.

So, vo vo oh de oh do and twenty-three skidoo, everything's jake on the Big Show. But don't get zozzled. That would be against the law.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.


Wednesday, August 02, 2017

It's Viva-tonal!


This might be the cleanest-sounding 1928 record you've ever heard.
 

One quick takeaway from that happy accident -- 1928 recording technology was a lot better than you'd think it was, particularly the quality of the microphones.

It's a strange experience to come across a batch of 80- and 90-something-year-old 78s, as I did last Friday at an estate sale,  and have them play almost as they did in the 1920s and early 1930s -- only on modern equipment and not wind-up acoustic gramophones.

THIS IS one of those records, Lee Morse and Her Blue Grass Boys with "Shadows on the Wall." It's one of the earliest Columbia electrical recordings, which the label branded "Viva-tonal."

Simply put, an electrical recording is just that: It is recorded using microphones and amplifiers feeding an electrical signal to a cutting head. Earlier "acoustical" recordings were all-mechanical -- performers played into a large horn, which moved a cutting stylus with sheer air pressure from the sound waves.


That was the reverse of the playback on an old phonograph with a large horn that amplified the vibrations from the needle moving through the record grooves.

In other words, it was . . . Viva-tonal. Indeed.

Saturday, July 29, 2017

'Muslim!' is the new 'Squirrel!'


Dear Rep. Bacon:


Meanwhile, as the Trump Administration prepares to deport Iraqi Christians back to almost certain death in a country they've not seen in decades . . . crickets from Republicans seeking to distract attention from our very own "What fresh hell?" regime.

For God's sake, man! Every damn time an alert sounds on my laptop or iPhone, I wonder what fresh hell is breaking loose now from Mad King Donald or our dysfunctional, pathological government. Every damn time. It's usually a doozy, and it's usually happening SEVERAL TIMES A DAY.

Yet you're outraged about what the g**damned Palestinian Authority is doing as you don Ray Charles sunglasses and stick your fingers in your ears and hum the "Star-Spangled Banner" while contractors measure the Oval Office for padded rubber wallpaper? Really?

How damned stupid do you think we are? (Obviously, stupid enough to have elected Donald Trump and yourself.)

Yeah, I am just so zip-a-dee-doo-dah, orgasmically THRILLED that you intend to kick some Palestinian Authority ass as you inexplicably exhibit ZERO concern that your own House leadership is considering Flat Eartherism so it could have a shot at sailing the ship of state off the g**damned edge.

And I can't even begin to express how grateful this woebegone nation is that you're devoting precious minutes and hours to some *obviously* existentially important Palestinian baiting while North Korea fires off ICBM after ICBM, and President Donald J. Trump may be the most unequipped person on planet Earth to deal with a REAL Korean crisis, as opposed to your ordinary, everyday Korean crises.

Good grief, don't you people even LISTEN to yourselves anymore? Is it possible that y'all are really that non-self aware?

Nah, can't be. I think you're just that flippin' cynical.

God help us, because we sure as hell aren't capable of helping ourselves anymore.

Sincerely yours,

Hoping We Don't Get Nuked Before
I Can Vote for Your Opponent

The neon beacon of Underwood Street

Shining over Underwood Street, July 28, 2017
April 1957
Like the rest of radio today, especially AM radio, the carrot shavings have become pretty shrived and the lettuce gone pretty brown since KFAB's salad days.

Omaha's onetime purveyor of Jerry Vale, Bert Kaempfert, Dean Martin and the most relied-upon school closing reports in the Great White North -- the News Beacon of the Great Midwest -- now trades in right-wing talk radio, gutted by an iHeartMedia filet knife called economies of scale. Or something that sounds better than "gutted."

Nevertheless, the neon KFAB sign that shines over Underwood Street in the Dundee neighborhood is as big and bright as always.

Shine on.

Thursday, July 27, 2017

3 Chords & the Truth: Staying on track

It don't come easy         
You know it don't come easy
It don't come easy         
You know it don't come easy
Ringo got it right. Love of music, like peace, is how we make it.

And I think I like how, back in my olden day, music didn't come easy. Well, at least as easily as today.

There's something to be said for stumbling across your musical passions the old-fashioned way -- happenstance, listening to the radio, a friend's record collection . . . something catching your eye at the record store. One in a building, not online.


Much also is to be said for having alien, uncool stuff imposed upon you via real Top-40 radio stations, as well as your parents' iron grip on the television . . . and the living-room console stereo . . . and the car radio, then being shocked, shocked when your youthful prejudice begins to waver.

THERE'S something to be said for having an 8 track instead of an iPod or iPhone to keep you in (CLUNK) tune. There's especially something to be said for music as a loudspeaker-based communal experience instead of an earbud-based solitary one.

What does any of this rumination have to do with this week's 3 Chords & the Truth? Beats me. I guess this -- the Not Easy way -- is where the show comes from.

We worked for it. And we're passionate about the music.


Modern times. Alas. . . .
THE BIG SHOW is music as a social exercise. And your Mighty Favog hopes you're playing it loudly on your stereo . . . sound system . . . whatever you call it today . . . and that your windows are open.

After all, it's so good it'd be a crime to keep it all to yourself.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.


Saturday, July 15, 2017

3 Chords & the Truth: Only the Big Show has it!


Now . . . add a new dimension of musiphonic enjoyment to any home or personal music system -- entertainment center, hi-fi setup, smartphone, boombox or Internet-enabled television.

Any sound or video system you have can sing out with the thrilling sounds of the world's finest music podcast, 3 Chords & the Truth. Now, our psychoacoustic thermistor keeps the music flowing at a steady rate and a comfortable volume -- easy to hear over the yapping dog, the whining kids, the nagging spouse or the constant negative press covfefe.

It even plays over the exciting new product of 1969 . . . the compact-sized clock radio / color television (adapters not included). Everything you need to amaze family and friends is now at your fingertips, and a wi-fi dance party can be organized in a snap!

THE BIG SHOW is the surprise revolutionary music product of the season, and you can have it all for the low, low price of . . . nothing.

Plays instantly at the finger-touch of a button or a touchscreen link. Comes in all colors of the rainbow.

Expert music curation is standard; some episodes may contain trenchant commentary. This week's edition may contain themes not fit for stupid people or the clueless. No offense intended but may be taken.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.


Saturday, July 08, 2017

3 Chords & the Truth: Don't Elvis the television


After watching the news the other day, I was gonna Elvis the television.

But my wife insisted that I calm down, instead. Wheel of Fortune was coming on.

So . . . we have the relaxing, chilled-out version of 3 Chords & the Truth. Listen to that, and don't be like Elvis Presley. You're not made out of money, and TV sets are expensive.

Or you could just stop watching the news. You'll still want to listen to the chill version of the Big Show, though.

Your television will thank you. So will Pat Sajak.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.


Sunday, July 02, 2017

Amerika uber alles


Civil war once again will come to this land. It's looking like it will be sooner rather than later.

That's the good news.

To watch this National Rifle Association recruitment video, which is quite literally Hitlerian in its language and in its demonizing, is to realize that civil war is the preferred option to the genocidal call to action which lies between every hissed line of the ad. Civil war at least presumes that one has a fighting chance.




WHAT DOES NOT have a fighting chance is the United States of America. As we approach the 241st anniversary of its birth, the former land of the free and home of the brave lies in hospice care. The attending physician, no doubt, is a descendant of Josef Mengele.


*   *   *

MORE: An earlier NRA effort also was decidedly Nazilike.

Saturday, July 01, 2017

3 Chords & the Truth: The spirit of '76


There's no percentage in the present, so let's try the past.

Does 1976 sound good? Sounds good to me -- '76 was a very good year to be young and in love with music.

So it's settled . . . and the spirit of '76 it is! And it's all goin' down on the Big Show.

Now fasten your seat belt for a journey to the center of the Seventies. Stay tuned for complimentary 8-track tapes and some really cool tunes.

Right on, man!

Next stop: Recaptured youth and another crack at high school.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.


Friday, June 30, 2017

You can't fix stupid, and you can't argue with wicked


Cast your line into the deep, dumb sea.

Reel in a red herring.

Make a YouTube video that every stupid, racist redneck from Pearl River to Sabine Pass will slurp up like a heaping plate of David Duke. Go up there to Franklinton, get up on your front porch, take off your shoes, wash your feet, look at the moon and get close to God.

State Sen. Beth Mizell must be a hero in Washington Parish, Louisiana . . . where the Ku Klux Klan still is very much a thing.

Mizell's video must be seen to be believed. Here's the Cliff's Notes version:
Huey Long, Louisiana State Capitol
If New Orleans can take down Jim Crow era Confederate monuments, well, what are they going to come for next? The statue over Huey Long's grave at the state capitol?

After all, Huey Long was a socialist. Huey Long was like Bernie Sanders. You know, a socialist! God knows socialism is just as controversial and offensive as slavery . . . and treason . . . and starting the Civil War in defense of keeping blacks in bondage.

Did we mention socialist?


Well . . . the senator ain't for taking down Huey Long's statue! Because history. Why, we bet you didn't even know he was a socialist. And what we don't know makes us love him and be proud. He wrote the LSU fight song! GEAUX TIGERS!
We bet you didn't even know the Confederates were for slavery! Not that that's what the War of Northern Aggression was about! And nothing says New Orleans, Mardi Gras and seafood gumbo like Robert E. Lee. Because history. The white . . . er . . . right version of it. Not Yankee fake history.
And if you were one of those people with all the fake outrage over white-supremacist monuments, well, you ain't even a real citizen. You're a fake citizen.
Bogalusa, La., 1965 -- Sen. Mizell's district
CAN WE just build the wall at Texarkana and make Louisiana pay for it?

In Louisiana, as in much of the South, we no longer can deny that we're dealing with a white population just as brainwashed, by and large, as your average North Korean political functionary. Maybe more. And you just can't argue with brainwashed.

Martin Luther King Jr. is dead, but the cult of the Lost Cause still lives. If Jesus Christ -- the real Jesus and not the Trumpian fake Jesus -- elicited the same kind of fanatical devotion as a long-defeated insurrection of slave masters, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. We'd be talking about the Beatitudes and not P.G.T. Beauregard.

We'd be talking about feeding the poor and healing the sick, not serving up socialist straw men to knock down with the battering ram of fake patriotism.

Beth Mizell would be sitting in a double-wide, not at a desk in the Louisiana State Capitol.

You can't contradict the Beth Mizells of the world, who spread lies like a hog slurps slop. You can't convince the brainwashed hordes who love the liars because their lies play to inbred prejudice. If the rise and rule of Donald Trump has taught us anything, it's taught us that.


THE ONLY THING left is to fight the liars and their lies. The only thing left is to defeat the liars and their lies. The only thing left is to isolate the liars -- and their lies -- until . . . until. . . .
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
His truth is marching on.
I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps,
His day is marching on.
I have read His fiery gospel writ in rows of burnished steel!
"As ye deal with my condemners, so with you My grace shall deal!
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, "
Since God is marching on.
He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat;
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him; be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on.
In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me;
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free!
While God is marching on.

Saturday, June 24, 2017

3 Chords & the Truth: An amazing audio value!


Here, in one delightful podcast, you will find yourself encountering a FULL-SPECTRUM sound experience, carefully curated for your musical enjoyment by an experienced media professional.

The sonic adventure will thrill you with its unexpected twists, turns and flights of fancy! The mind-expanding properties of 3 Chords & the Truth  will make you feel smarter with each new episode! Never could you have thought expanding your mind and your musical horizons would be such fun!

BUT IT IS! It's right at your fingertips -- absolutely free -- on the Big Show.

Give us your attention, and 3 Chords & the Truth will give you a world . . . of music! FREE!

That's a bargain, no matter how you look at it. Go to www.revolution21.org and see what we're talking about. Don't delay!



Monday, June 12, 2017

This was the city: Omaha, Nebraska


It was a Saturday — July 3. It was hot and muggy in Omaha, Nebraska.

We got up at the usual time that morning, 7:45. About 8:30, we started to open every window, turn on every fan.

We started to draw the blinds to block the hot sun come afternoon. It was supposed to be almost 90.

While we were doing that, we turned on the radio. My brother’s Winthrop. We call him Stinky. The boss was Dad. My name’s Favog.

GREAT. Mom left the thing on KFAB, not KOWH. Must have been listening to her soap operas. I always preferred Sandy Jackson.

Eight forty-five. What was "Big Mike" selling now? He was talking to the salad dressing guy -- Louis Albert. It seemed strangely interesting.

We sat down to listen. . . .


Saturday, June 10, 2017

3 Chords & the Truth: Hot planet, cool music


Welcome to 3 Chords & the Truth: The "Climate change? What climate change? Why have my Chuck Taylors melted onto the sidewalk?" edition.

Did I mention that it's going to be about 100 degrees in Omaha today?

Damn Chinese and their insidious global warming hoaxes!

Must think cool musical thoughts. Must. Think. Cool. Musical. Thoughts.


It's the Big Show, y'all. Be there. Aloha.




Tuesday, June 06, 2017

Much to remember

Pardon me if I'm a little bit offended by the traitor-in-chief invoking the memory of D-Day to seem vaguely "presidential."

Saturday, June 03, 2017

Nailed it: A vulgar talking yam


The really noxious stuff was all that simpering about how the rest of the world is playing us for suckers and laughing at us, as though the rest of the world doesn't think we've lost our mind as a nation simply by electing a vulgar talking yam.
CHARLES P. PIERCE
Esquire

The onslaught of vile, stupid acts by the (gag) president of the United States is such that mere mortals soon run out of words and descriptions worthy of the bile boiling up from the depths of our tortured, twisting guts.

Donald Trump's latest civic sacrilege was enough to leave even the wordsmiths among the American people straining in their speech and at their keyboards for something fitting to the occasion -- apart from the vilest obscenities one could summon from the darkest corner of the id. In repudiating the Paris climate agreement, the existential threat in chief -- elected by civic suicide bombers making a stupid and futile gesture on America's behalf -- declared war on Earth itself, as well as generations of humanity yet to be born.

The withdrawal was an act as deeply ignorant and foolish as it was spiteful and aggressive.

This is the point where my words collapse into screams and speakable, but unprintable, curses against Trump and those who brought him into this world.


So, this is where I leave it to Esquire's Charles P. Pierce, whom words did not fail in the face of This Present Darkness. And, boy, did his words not fail.

In fact, he summed up the Stage 4 cancer consuming our body politic in just three magnificent words. Enjoy.

It used to be the young bucks and their T-bones, or the welfare queen with her Cadillac, who were leeching off good, hard-working Real Americans. It turns out Ronald Reagan was modest. On Thursday, in a speech that was such a towering pile of complete horseshit that it may well reach the moon, President* Donald Trump told the country that the rest of the world is now the craftiest welfare queen of them all.

I didn't think he could top his ghastly American Carnage inaugural address for sheer fact-free and paranoiac mendacity, but he managed to do it on Thursday. By announcing that the United States was withdrawing from the groundbreaking Paris Accords regarding the world climate crisis, the president* wallowed in rank, xenophobic victimhood while basking in the scattered applause of the otherwise unemployable yahoos whose self-respect is sufficiently low that they still work for him. Any doubt that Steve Bannon is running this White House now, either personally or through his finger-puppet, obvious anagram Reince Priebus, now has evaporated. The transformation of the American government into a Breitbart comments thread is complete.
It was appalling. It was condescending. It was awful content delivered by a dolt who wouldn't know the Paris Accords from a baguette without the shoddy talking points that someone put in front of him. For example, he read off a fanciful list of "consequences" for adhering to the Paris Accords down through the next decades. Afterwards, Ali Velshi, a welcome addition to the MSNBC cast of regulars, pointed out that the president* was reading from a debunked report that presumed in its analysis that the U.S. would fulfill every one of its agreed-upon conditions while no other participating country would fulfill any of theirs. This is not surprising. The president* would have read a commercial for hair-replacement if someone had put it in front of him.

The least objectionable element of the speech was its utter internal incoherence.

The United States will cease all implementation of the non-binding Paris Accord and the draconian economic and financial burden the agreement imposes on our country.
Paris was a non-binding and ineffective agreement, but it was "draconian" nonetheless. The economy is booming under his leadership, but the Paris Accord was destroying it at the same time. This was a speech written by a fool, to be delivered by a fool, with the presumption that a great percentage of its target audience is made up of fools.
But the really noxious stuff was the attempt at transforming a worldwide agreement to combat an existential threat to life on this planet into what he stupidly called a scheme to redistribute our wealth to China, as if we're all not going to be buying our solar panels from China for the next 50 years because of this cluck. The really noxious stuff was all that simpering about how the rest of the world is playing us for suckers and laughing at us, as though the rest of the world doesn't think we've lost our mind as a nation simply by electing a vulgar talking yam. The really noxious stuff was all his crocodile tears about the Forgotten People, as though a lot of them are not suffering through drought, or losing their houses to floods and to landslides, about which he and his people care nothing at all.
 THAT perfectly sums up Trump: A vulgar talking yam.

May this vile expression of the American id be known as the "vulgar talking yam" so long as the stars and stripes fly over this land. Which, at this rate, will be until the Thursday after next.

If we catch a break or two.