One Reader's Recommendation (and a Recommendation of Our Own)

The following is from an e-mail our friend Lillian (who co-wrote with Coqui the Das Booty hit "Fuck the World") sent us the other day:

I know you try to stay away from holiday publicity on your web site, and I wouldn't tell you how to run your show, but this is black history month, and I am reading a book by a really good black author and I thought maybe you would want to check him out and put some of his stuff on your page. His name is Edward Wilmott Blyden and his book is Christianity, Islam and the Negro Race. It was written over a hundred years ago and his style is similar to the style I have seen lawyers use.* The book is really good especially since it makes predictions about the future of Islam and Africa, and they don't come true. Hee hee.

We haven't had time to check it out and post excerpts, but the recommendation is up there for all. Note to readers: you can read it in March, too.

Our Black History Month recommendation: Michael Thelwell's novelization of the movie "The Harder They Come", for its vivid portrayal of the lives of Jamaica's poor--both rural and urban--in the 1960s and '70s, and for the compelling, shoot-em-up story of the folk hero Rhygin.

It's a pretty good soundtrack too.

* Note to fellow law students: what does this say about our future profession? That it's stuck in the past? Mired in the muck of silly conservatism? We suspect that Mr. Blyden's book is well written, so maybe the comparison isn't justified. But anyone who has spent some time in law school is doubtless familiar with the metastasization of the judicial opinion, and with the common law's reactionary adherence to the jargon and rules of centuries past. We think that three years of law school should get us a degree in Pleonastic Obscurantism rather than a Juris Doctor. Or, to justify the inclusion of 'Pleonastic' in the title, a degree in Pleonastic Obfuscating Obscurantism. Indeed, we look forward to the day when our name will be followed by an imposing POO.

Brother Dean is Coming to New York!!!

Today is a happy day at blue skies forever. Brother Dean is taking the train up from Philadelphia for a visit.

Artist's rendering of Donald Trump's proposed Deansome Tower. (Microsoft Paint)

Open Letter to Science Man

Dear Science Man,

We know that you have been struggling lately, even questioning your commitment to the life of a scholar. Reading your letter, we finally realized how lonely it must have been for you all these years. After all, you hadn't a companion. You hadn't a Gödel.

In your solitary struggle, you gave and gave: groundbreaking tractates; pithy, beautiful poems. We feel that now, when you are feeling confused and alone, the least we could do is to provide some words of encouragement and advice. We have solicited the wisdom of some of our sagest friends. We hope it helps.



Pinto:

I know he's been lonely and wants to meet Science Woman,
but I think he should become a monk. He can leave his
wants behind. Some facts about monks: They get out quite
a bit, traveling from temple to temple, I guess. They
can't touch women in any sort of way. When paying bus fare
to a female conductor they put the money in some neutral
space; the conductor responds in kind with any change.
There is a parade when a monk reaches monkhood. Supposedly
these are quite wild affairs. Family, friends, everyone's
drunk but the monk. It's a happy thing like a wedding
reception. They're also pretty nice guys. I met a couple
on the bus ride here.




Sujan:

do not sit lonely, rubbing those sticks
consider unzipping, and rubbing your dick.




JLou:

Are you a Science Man or a Science Mouse? Be bold. See the world. Find Science Woman. But remember--only when you stop looking will she appear. And until that happens, I happen to know a charming law student in New York who wouldn't mind buying you a drink...(we could produce patent lawyers!)

Oh, and by the way, get an agent. Your poems are wasted here. Nobody reads this rag.




jsanjana:
Your hyper-rationality reminds me of my father. You must learn to accept that you cannot control or comprehend everything in this world.




A.C.:

If you want to get Science Woman, listen to my man Gary.




Gary:

So you’re not ever gonna get into these little brouhahas about ‘Well, what do you want to do? Well where would you like to go?’ Ever. Cuz a prick is in charge of his own world and a prick makes the decisions. And a prick is the guy, remember, who gets all the sex. So you never stoop down to that level of ‘Oh, where do you want to go? What do you want to do? What do you think?’ Can’t do it. Don’t ever do it. Ever. Don’t let me catch you doing it. I will show up at your house.
[audio clip of Gary's advice here]




Sylvester:

A while back, I heard a story that will affect you: The average person lives out 75 years. Now, if you multiply 75 years times 52 weeks, you come up with 3,900 weeks of life. That’s it. That’s all the average person has. Then I thought, hell, I’m 58. Which means I have roughly 884 weekends left. Eight hundred and eighty four weeks? Damn! Talk about a wake up call.

...it seems it’s all over in the blink of an eye. So let’s be more selfish with who, or where, we spend our precious time. With 884 weekends left, I now only do things that make my heart and soul feel satisfied. I take that trip, buy that car, call that friend, tell that special someone I love them when they least expect it.

Pay attention to the really important things in life. Be the guy who tells the joke, not the recipient of the punch line. Be the predator, not the food source. Gorge yourself at that banquet of life until the only thing left on the table are crumbs. In other words, you’re an army of one. So, it’s up to you to either lead the charge with conquest on your mind... or sound the trumpets of retreat.
[Read more in the premier issue of Sly Magazine.]


Well, that's it, Science Man. Know that we think of you often and fondly.

As you would say, stay strong. And stay clean.

Damon

An Unworthy Challenger

Well, Dear Readers, this isn't the first time. One stakes out a swath of cyberspace, makes a home on the range of it, and the freeloaders appear. We just received an e-mail from a friend of ours declaring his intention to challenge Science Man to a "poem-off" for the title of Poet Laureate of blue skies forever. (Nevermind that this is an honor bestowed upon Science Man for his lifetime of achievement in poesy; not a cheap party favor to be given willy-nilly to every young punk who beats his chest after he can't quite get the gig at Hallmark.) Mr. "Ron Dejais" claimed not to know that Science Man, in low spirits, had left Berlin to meet Pinto in Thailand. A disloyal reader, or a disingenous challenger?

Now normally, we would not publish such gibberish, especially when the author insists on using a nomme de plume. However, because the challenger is our friend; because he is the only person we know who has been upperdecked; because we are fairly certain that one of our classmates micturated in a pair of his mother's Keds when we were in high school; because he still carries the baggage of having been second chair tenor saxophone in the Blanchet High School Jazz Band, while his rival, Matt S. (of Hot Atmosphere and Das Booty fame), was first; because we may have participated in a ruse to convince his parents that he owed hundreds of dollars in lap dance fees at a local strip club (resulting in his father showing up at the club and declaring his intention to pay off the young derelict's debts); because we are nothing if not generous, we shall publish his challenge. Take note, "Ron Dejais"--this does not mean your challenge has in any way been sanctioned. It has merely been published.

Finally, Science Man, do not fret. Follow your heart and know that your place of honor at blue skies forever is forever secure.

Dear Readers, we are sorry for what we are about to do. Hence, we shall give you a few links with which to amuse yourselves. We suggest you visit them rather than read the challenger's execrable poem.

Recent father O-Dub is once more posting at his juggernaut of an audioblog, Soul Sides. Recommended: Sam Cooke's cover of Smoke Rings, posted yesterday.

Let it never be said that Saddam stopped loving his people.

A.C. credits these CD's for his catastrophic success with the ladies.

One's time would be better spent doing this than reading the challenger's poem.




The challenge:

The Sun Shines upon Thee

Across near and far...
I walk this earth...
Looking for a poem...
A Story...A Verse...

In the Forest...
The Trees...
The Bees...
And the Seas...
Hover above...forming an umbrella…
That completely surrounds me...

I see in the distance...
A big orange glow...
What is that...I ask...
As I look far below...
No…look up above...
See the Light of Love...

Toward the clouds I did rise...
Up into the sky...
Forever shall it shine...
Upon you and I...

And if it does not...
And our flame becomes dark...
The world will crumble...
Away it will wash...

Out to sea…we shall be...
Forever you see...
We’ll search for the light...
Although now day is night...
And we’ll fight for the right...
To have the sun shine bright.

Ron Dejais

A Man of Science...and Sadness

Moon over Berlin. Photo credit: Egbert Borutta

Sterile, starless city sky. Moon like a lit nickle on a black marble countertop, a dot against the dark. Somewhere, someone, some loved one, some someday-to-be loved one, stares at the same moon. Right, Science Man? Science Man?...

Dear Damon,

The long Berlin winter chills me. I sit in my study, the first draft of Finger, Butter, Verboten* before me. I should feel the warmth of accomplishment, but I do not.

The life of the mind is a noble one--rubbing one's sticks until one produces a spark, a glow for one's fellow humans. Many a great man and woman has so rubbed in obscurity. I, on the other hand, have had the good fortune to be recognized in my lifetime for my contribution. Nevertheless, rubbing those sticks is hard, my friend. It wears a man down, leaves him wan, wistful, alone.

Hence, though I have completed only 2/3 of my intended trilogy, I shall take a sabbatical. I know--my time here in Berlin was supposed to be my sabbatical. Yet though the winter and my work are nearly done, I must away.

Tell Pinto I am coming to meet him; I want to join him in his travels, to see the world through the eyes not of a scientist, nor a poet, but merely a man--a man enjoying, for once, the spark and glow of others.

Who knows? Perhaps I will meet Science Woman somewhere along the way.

Stay strong, my friend. And stay clean.

Science Man


PS--Your friend Tim's song, Trucker's Lullaby, while sad, is a thing of great beauty--a spark, a glow--and has helped me through the winter.

PPS--Thank you again for taking care of Raw while I am away.



* The second tractate of his trilogy on the adult entertainment industries of the former major axis powers.

Science Man Seeking Science Woman?

Is our poet laureate, the esteemed Science Man, looking for love? Did the passing of Valentine's Day--in a foreign land, no less--lead that great mind to ponder, more broadly, the passing of time--and in that, his role as a solitary beacon of learning? Mightn't the beacons burn brighter together? An attentive reader sends us the following post from Craig's List Berlin:


Seeking Science Woman
Reply to: anon-********@craigslist.org
Date: 2005-02-16, 5:36PM CET

Accomplished scientist and poet seeks science woman for companionship.

About me: I am a man of the arts and sciences; as an undergraduate, I received high honors from the College of Arts and Sciences, and I have subsequently received numerous awards in both fields.

About you: You understand Einstein's Theory of Special Relativity, vector analysis, and Sergeant Pluck's Atomic Theory. You appreciate the arts. You practice good personal hygiene.

About us: Frolic with me--in the dewy fields, in the Dewey stacks. By Saks or thrift, I shall purchase for you the finest silks. Short shrift, be gone! Wan? no longer. Want? No longer. I am content

with you

my queen.

Final note: You must be willing to accept my dog, Raw.



Raw

blue skies forever NEWS paparazzi: Hey Brother!

"I can't believe Will's in the owner's box!" Frequently mistaken for brothers, Buster and Dean share a laugh in the teal room at DJ Jazzy Jeff's Super Bowl party in Philadelphia, PA, the City of Brotherly Love. Also pictured: Beth "Left Eye" Falkof.

The Godfather

A.C. says, "Valentine's Day? When you're a ladykiller like I am, every day is a massacre."

Pinto (Sports) Dispatch: CHIANG MAI, THAILAND

Hot off the wire at blue skies forever NEWS headquarters...




12 February 2005
CHIANG MAI, Thailand

The fix was in at Kawila Boxing Stadium on Friday
night. Fight six featured a Swiss boxer, U Ran,
representing the Chay Yai Gym, against home-bred Payak
Dum, representing Sit Sor Jor Sanae. To give the
reader some idea of the fighters, imagine Rocky IV. U
Ran is Drago, the chiseled, robot-like Russian. Dum
is Rocky, but flabbier. To absolutely nobody's
surprise, U Ran had his opponent against the ropes for
most of the fight. Amazingly, Dum withstood five
rounds of brutality without falling on his face. It
was fortunate for him that five rounds is all you get
at Kawila. So the decision rested with the judges.
Boos and cheers alike erupted from the half-foreign,
half-Thai audience when Dum was declared the winner.

In other action from the night, the best knock-out
came in round four of fight four, after Chao Pee took
multiple knees to the head from his opponent, Payak
Kao. (All limbs are viable weapons in Thai boxing,
therefore so is holding, resulting in many knees to
the gut and kicks to the kidney.) Coming out of an
eight count, Pee, shunning any common sense he had
left, continued fighting. He took the next punch to
the face and was finished.

In more sports news, visitors to the Kawila Officer's
Club, a horse racing track somehow associated with the
military, received free cups of ice cream with
admission on Saturday. The winners for races 1
through 6 were 6, 5, 9, 2, 1, and 4, in that order. (No further
details are available as the racing program is
completely in Thai.)

END


Fisticuffs! Ourself and a Muhammad Ali look-alike outside and inside Seattle's Blue Star Bistro, respectively.
(Photo credit: Nick Haney)

From the Infirmary

As our creative faculties have been subdued by this confounded influenza virus, we shall leave the job of entertaining you to our father, who entertained us with the following e-mail:


Hi Damon,

Mom told me that you have the flu. I'm sorry. I feel bad for you. Hope that you get better soon. I heard on the radio that baseball spring training begins next week. Where does the time go? Can you believe that it was last year that Janet Jackson bared her boob at the SuperBowl? It seems like just yesterday.

Love,
Dad

Our father

Exclusive: From Inside the Bowels of the Military-Industrial Complex

Blue skies forever NEWS has obtained an exclusive interview with "Tony," an engineer at one of America's largest defense contractors. Tony is the head of several important projects; he likes to say that he has his "sticks in a lot of fires." Of course, you know your fires burn hot when Air Force generals fly cross-country to view a PowerPoint summary of your latest opus. Or did you say that the summary was your opus? We're confused...

In fact, Tony's output is so prodigious that his supervisors seem not to mind when he puts in a 20-25 hour work week--every week. Nor when he takes his favorite beach towel out to the corporate lawn to catch a few mid-afternoon Z's. So what is it that makes Tony--and our nation's military--tick? It's more than just your tax dollars, Dear Readers. Buckle your seat belts, because a blue skies forever NEWS Exclusive is about to begin.

Tony

AO=Anchorman Ourself


AO: We think the first question on everyone's mind is, "what makes Tony tick?"
Tony: To be honest, it's the duckets. That and keeping America safe. But get this: I recently acquired a library card. I'm planning a trip that takes me to each branch of the library in one day allowing only one bus route between consecutive branch visits. Its an optimization problem of great proportions--and not without public benefit.

AO: Indeed. And what are you doing to keep America safe?
Tony: My best work has been behind a thin layer of latex. I use a condom every time.

AO: We're feeling safer already. Tell us a little about the documents you brought us.
Tony: Well, these diagrams are from my biggest project, The R----- Network, which was recently praised--internally, of course--by Air Force General ______. But they may have been removed from the PowerPoint presentation he viewed.

Tony's diagrams

AO: What do they depict exactly?
Tony: I thought you said I wasn't going to have to answer any stupid questions. [Here Tony attempts to leave, though we manage lure him back with some skin magazines that Science Man left in the Green Room]

AO: Why might the diagrams have been removed from the presentation? The R----- Network was your project, no?
Tony: When I submitted the initial document, I received a number of angry e-mails from from the St. Louis office. They were displeased with the diagrams. We had a debate as to the meaning of the word "model." My supervisors suggested that I take a class entitled "Mastering Personal Effectiveness."

AO: Did you take the class?
Tony: I didn't feel I needed it.

AO: Your earlier comments suggest that you were not present when General _______ viewed the PowerPoint.
Tony: I was in the cafeteria.

AO: Nerves?
Tony: No, hot chocolate.

AO: Obviously, you deal with science every day. Science Man was named Scientist of the Year for 2004 by blue skies forever, among others. Are you familiar with his work?
Tony: I am familiar.

AO: What's next for Tony?
Tony: The persistently good weather poses some difficult questions. I have devised activities for the cold, rainy weather (hot chocolate in the cafeteria) and activities for the warm, sunny weather (beach towels and shut-eye) but I am not sure what to do with the cold, sunny weather of late. I believe tomorrow we're screening episodes of The Office in our lab.

There you have it, Readers. There you have it, Taxpayers. In a democratic society, it is imperative that the citizenry be informed. Enter blue skies forever NEWS.

We'd like to thank Tony for his time and his willingness to share classified documents. This has been a blue skies forever NEWS Exclusive.

Kids Say the Darndest Things...And Moms Do, Too!

We are currently at work on an exclusive story for blue skies forever NEWS. However, our work is no excuse for us to ignore you, our Cherished Readers. Hence, we provide you with the following links.

If you have the time, we recommend browsing through the blogs of Mr Thielmann's Planning 10 students at D.P. Todd Secondary School in Prince George, British Columbia. (Among them is the previously linked Rico.) MeShow's beskirted bards may have met their match in Mr. Thielmann's students, who heckle their Croatian classmate Richard with comments like "learn how to type serb" and "no serb knows how to make a chopper. you are not very smart you serb", and who fantasize about a war between Irish and Asian mobs. Perhaps Mr. Thielmann should do a unit on ethnic conflict in Europe--or just show them this chart.

Finally, we would like to introduce Moons in Leo, a witty woman and the mother of two lovely, grown children, our friends Kaitlin and Andrew. In complaining about the cold weather in New Jersey, Ms. Leo produced one of the better one-liners we've encountered recently: "This is the Garden State, not the Iceberg Lettuce State." Check her out.

Pinto Dispatch: KRABI, THAILAND

Hot off the wire at the blue skies forever news room: the first dispatch from Southeast Asia Bureau Correspondent Pinto...

4 February 2005
KRABI, Thailand--

11 am: I switch lodgings from an expensive, impersonal
hotel in the middle of town to a cheap, friendly
guesthouse by the river.

2 pm: I buy a little radio. Later tonight I will
drink some nasty rice liquor and listen to hard rock
Thai-style. I am extremely pleased with the purchase.

3 pm: After drinking a Singha by the river, I spot an
old man collecting plastic bottles along the water's
edge. He approaches me with greetings and a toothless
smile. I offer him my empty beer can, but he refuses.
He wears a full-brimmed cap with "MONKEY BUSINESS"
written at crazy angles all over it. I tell him I
like his hat. He points towards the river and makes a
swimming gesture. I express confusion. He points to
a portly lady behind me who is also picking up garbage
and he gives me the thumbs up. I can do nothing but
agree with him. He leaves.

5 pm: It's hot and humid here. I take a shower, lie
down, and wait for dusk.

7 pm: Three city blocks are blocked off. They are
full of blue, white, and red plastic chairs, giant
projection screens and speakers. More people stand
along the periphery than sit in the chairs that have
been so neatly arranged in rows facing a huge stage.
Though I can't understand the language booming from
the speakers, I quickly comprehend what is playing on
the huge screens: It is a political ad. I buy some
tiny pig-in-a-blanket looking things from a street
vendor, walk towards the stage, and sit down. Two
huge banners behind the stage display the candidates
for seat, or district, or something number 9. I see
two microphones on stage and think that maybe there
will be a debate. I realize that I can't understand
Thai, but I also realize that I have nothing better to
do.

7:30 pm: Somebody starts speaking. A woman sits in
front of me and offers me a fried banana. I take one
although it is very hot. Bananas seem to lose their
flavor when cooked.


fried banana

8 pm: The third speaker is at it now. I get bored,
say goodbye to the fried banana woman, and leave. I
buy the aforementioned rice liquor and head back to my
room and new radio.

Over and out,
P

blue skies forever NEWS

Hot off the wire at the blue skies forever newsroom...

NEWS ABOUT OURSELF: Despite its PG content, blue skies forever recently received visitors who were given its address from web searches for "booty pictures" and "pig farts." To those new visitors, we give a hearty welcome; as many of you know, we are not unfamiliar with the Internet's seamier side.

NEWS ABOUT OTHERS: Scientists say the blogosphere is getting hotter as a result of the recent returns of stalwarts The Birds and Rico, and the introduction of upstart iconoclast Dan.

"Testing 1-2. Testing 1-2." Southeast Asia Bureau Correspondent Pinto and Anchorman Ourself test the blue skies forever newsroom equipment.

A Thumbnail of a Cassanova, and Some Musings on Love

Over the weekend, we received the following e-mail from our friend A.C., a noted "ladykiller" and man about town. Those looking for tips on how to improve their wooing skills could do far worse than to consult A.C. However, we must all always remember that Cupid rhymes with stupid, and that, as The Persuaders so sweetly sang, it's a thin line between love and hate...

Damon, I figured you'd appreciate another tale from A.C.'s world of dating.....

I was supposed to go out to lunch with ------- today (30 year old girl). I left a message on her phone last night saying I'd made reservations at Jake's (really $$$ seafood joint) and that she should dress cocktail/business casual. I thought I sounded sarcastic enough that she would know I was kidding. Apparently not. She sent me an email this morning to confirm we were indeed going to Jake's. After I responded to her saying we weren't, she emailed me back to say she was no longer interested in going out. I think she actually dressed up and got really pissed after I came clean about the plan. Now she won't call me back. It's 1pm pacific time and I've yet to hear from her. I'm assuming she's genuinely pissed off. I'll call her tonight to apologize, but that's it. If I get the answering machine, I'll leave a message and wipe my hands of the situation. It will be on her if she wants to continue seeing me.


Well, there you have it, folks. Love is sometimes treacherous--but it has its rewards. And while we are on the subject, let us take this opportunity to tell you that when that cherubic archer pulled another arrow from his treasured quiver; when, sitting atop his fluffy perch, he released it from his trusty bow; when we felt its sweet, deep, golden-headed pierce, it was you that we thought of. In other words, Dear Readers, we love you.