DNA doesn't know if you noticed, BUT THE NEW RECORD IS DONE!!!! Listen to it, and if you likey, buy it safely, securely, RIGHT HERE!!! DNA is telling you, there are few deals better on the internet than this. 200 mpg carburetor plans? Who cares. Life-saving cancer treatment? Whatever. Cool new record? Now, that's like gravy for the potatoes that are your life. Fat. Lumpy. Salty. Necessary.
January has come and gone, and the new DNA record is nearly complete. It will be uninspiring how unnoticed this particular record will be. But, like the ripple on the ocean which develops into the tsunami which destroys Japan, small, uneventful moments shape the world. In fact, small uneventful moments are the shape of things to have come and gone. As always, please take a moment to read the archived months missives. Hit the links at the top of the page. As the DNA Vibrator has indicated before, this blog page removes what others may consider certain expected blog features, but removing those extraneous bits makes the blog more conducive to reading through from start to end, like a book. It is stripped down to the essentials. The DNA Vibrator may provide links to other sites or information it references ONLY if it suits the purpose of The DNA Vibrator.
Permanent Historical Record: 2/1/07
Back From Detroit
Kind of like back from the dead. The tool had to travel for its job. This time, instead of being cornered by a religious wing nut, in the terminal or the plane, DNA remembered to pack an mp3 player, so that headphones could insulate it from the rest of the world. DNA just got back. It's late, DNA is tired, so the story, of course there is a story, will have to be told tomorrow or the next day.
Permanent Historical Record: 2/2/07
It Was Someone Else's Turn To Be The Victim
So, DNA had to fly to Detroit. Took the time while it was there to stand on 8 Mile Road. Detroit Rock City. What the fuck ever. Best thing that happened to Detroit was Cottage Inn Pizza. That place served perhaps the second best pizza DNA has ever eaten. So, AfroDJYak, and other pizza fan lurkers out there, take note, and when you are in Detroit, get some! See if DNA ain't lyin. Eating pizza at the places DNA goes is part of its ritual. Just like commending its earthly existence to God is part of the ritual DNA performs as the plane it is riding on jets skyward. Yes, the same God DNA relegates to the status of impartial observer at any other time of its existence. Yeah, it's cliche, but it's DNA's story, and is it cliche if it is really true? It's not fear which motivates this revelation, it's more a statement of principle: God? It's me, DNA. DNA is cool with everything. DNA has done its best in the world to eke out its existence, to provide for the kids, to pleasure the wife, etc. etc. This is not really a statement of Faith in the Great Beyond, either, or in the idea that God is paying particular attention to DNA. It's not fatalistic hypocrisy. It is more of an acknowledgment that DNA is simply part of a universal system, a universal being in the most fundamental way you can use that word, and that in a moment at which you can realistically see your life end, DNA is comfortable in relinquishing control to the greater power of the universe. Or, to the drunken, depressed pilot: under paid, over worked, mythologized and glorified bus driver, really. Doesn't that make you feel safer in the air? No disrespect to bus drivers, but let's call pilots what they are. It's not the 1950's. It ain't Buck Rogers anymore, though pilots would like to hold on to that mystique. It's no longer chic to be a pilot, although it is still better paid than being a trucker.
So, the flight out was uneventful, thanks to the defensive power of the the mp3 player and headphones DNA was outfitted with. Nothing says to the passerby, "you are not even worth hearing accidentally" like a guy with headphones on. Although it does not have the "I am better than you. You will never be this cool. You really can't pull this look off" aura that a bluetooth headset socked into someone's ear projects. Maybe only three or four people need to be that connected. Maybe secret service guys. Maybe world leaders. Maybe police, or military guys. But the pillowbiter at Orange Julius? No. This is why the world fucking hates America's guts. (for this and for reasons explained in the story DNA is going to relate in a second) We use technology that could literally be life saving in other situations, to redescribe the same shit to a guy we are now on the phone with that we just said to them in person 3 minutes ago. Here is an example of this in DNA's life from earlier today: DNA's ringtone: (in DNA's voice) "Hey, answer the fucking phone. What's your problem? Answer the phone. Jesus!" DNA picks up. It's the tool's wife. DNA says, "Hey, what's up?" Wife says, "Nothing. Just wanted to let you where I was at." DNA says, "Okay." Wife says, "What's wrong with you?" DNA says, "Nothing." Wife: "Whatever. You're always like this on the phone. Why are you so short with me?" DNA: "Uh, thanks for calling. I knew I was missing something today..." Wife: "You'll be missing IT a lot more, if you keep this up..." DNA: "Oooookay. Gotta go. See you in a bit."
What was the fucking point of that, DNA asks you? Was she so full of bitch that if she waited 20 more minutes to to speak to DNA she would have burst? (now those of you who know DNA and know DNA's wife also know that she'll never read this, and that DNA is smiling all the way. DNA loves that woman, sho nuff, he do. DNA just likes the sound of saying, "was she so full of bitch." You should say it too. It just is really fun to say. Try it on your wife or girlfriend when she comes home. Tell DNA how that works out) Couldn't someone who really needed that phone, really needed that bandwidth, have used it better than that? DNA hopes the fuck so, because everyday it is left bewildered at some point by just how much we waste shit like it's our right to waste shit. We waste everything.
Back to the point. Which was, having a bluetooth headset sticking out of your ear does not make you cool or important. Having one sticking out of your ass, however, would set you apart from the crowd, and would be the appropriate docking orifice considering the amount of shit you spew into it. Smile. When DNA says you, it means you. Not you, YOU.
DNA had the standoffish knob on the mp3 player set to about 7 for the whole airport experience. There was just enough volume leaking out of the earbuds that passers by heard what probably sounded like mice fucking coming from DNA's head. On the flight up, there is that announcement when the bus driver says, "Please turn off all cell phones and portable electronic devices." DNA follows this rule. DNA is in the bus driver's house. It's his rules. To the douchebag who sat next to DNA: Turning off the device does not mean putting your Blackberry in your pocket when the stewardess walks by. It means shut the fucking thing off. From it emanates a small but measurable electromagnetic field. On board the flying bus are very delicate bits of avionics. Some can be affected, potentially, by devices from which electromagnetic fields emanate. That would be a funny story to tell in line at the Pearly Gates: "Yeah, and then the pilot lost control of the plane when my Blackberry's signal confused the onboard computer and told it to turn the rudder. Go figure!"
Anyway, douche spent the entire time typing on a miniscule keyboard even less important things than DNA talked to the tool's wife about. Or, if he wasn't doing that, he was watching the latest episode of Lost on a 1 inch square screen. Exciting! When that was over, he played what must have been a satisfying downloadable game of press the red fuzz dot with your cursor. DNA is actually very pleased with the state it finds itself in. This is re-technologizing at its core. Finding less interesting ways to mollify and pacify yourself, lowering the bar while raising the cost, and it all being lapped up gleefully as you slide mouth open into a hell of your own creation. Yahoo!
However, on the flight back, DNA would have rather dealt with a thousand bluetooth enabled dildos shoved up it ass than have to be the recipient of the drivel that the guy in the seat behind DNA was visiting on the poor son of a bitch who sat next to him. Hence, the title of this post. DNA turned off the mp3 player while this little vignette unfolded. Another great use of the mp3 player: It allows you to look like you are not listening to or are not interested in a conversation, when in reality, you turned off your mp3 player but left the headphones on so you could surreptitiously listen in on a trainwreck that you otherwise would not be privy to. It's like a Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom moment, in which you and Jim Fowler are hiding in plain sight of the old mama lioness and her kill. You become ubiquitous and she does her thing au naturale.
So here's how it started. Ameridork, to the older gentleman sitting next to him: "So, I heard your accent. Where are you from?" Limey says: "I'm from Britain." Ameridork: "I've always wanted to go there. London sounds pretty awesome." Limey: "Yes, London is a great city, and has its character. But so does New York, Shanghai,..." Ameridork: "Yeah, so do you travel alot?" Limey: "Yes, my company has recently sent me to Ontario, I'm on my way to St. Louis, and then L.A., and then Tokyo." "Cool. I traveled to Alaska earlier this year. Have you ever been to Alaska?" Limey: "No." Ameridork: "It's like a totally different world, no, like a different planet, up there. It's like I was in the largest Park in the world up there, and there was not another soul for 400 miles. No hospital for 400 miles. No electricity for 400 miles. In any direction." Limey: "That's about the size of the isle..." Ameridork: "Huh?" Limey: "400 miles. About the length of England." Ameridork: "Yeah. It's like taking three or four of the states, y'know, the lower 48, (DNA shits you not, he said this) y'know, where we are NOW, and that's how big this park is. That should give you some idea of where I was at." Limey: "Indeed." Ameridork: "I loved it up there. You connect with nature. There's like 7 peaks of greater than 16,000 feet. I was in a plane, and while we were flying to where I was going to stay, from horizon to horizon, you could see nothing but mountains. Have you ever saw something like that?" Limey: "No. I did backpack through the Austrian Alps when I was younger..." Ameridork: "So, I stayed with this guy, who built his house with his own hands. You can still do that up there, cuz there is like no running water or electricity, so you don't have codes or have to be an electrician to build a house. He like built his house out of an old pizza hut. It was like damaged in an earthquake or something, and he took the pieces and made his own house. You can do that up there. Know what I mean?" Limey: "Absolutely." Ameridork: "You know, they carry guns up there. Its just accepted. Its part of life. Its freedom. You never know when you might encounter a bear, or a moose, and what would you do in that situation in the civilized world? Know what I mean?" Limey: "Absolutely." Ameridork: "I mean, I live close to nature. Have you ever killed and skinned your own food? Taken an animal's life?" Limey: "I can't say that I have." Ameridork: "Right. And how old are you?" Limey taken aback: "51." Ameridork: "I'm 28, and have already had that experience. Alaska would be the perfect place for me. I found it serene and peaceful, which is perfect if you practice the ancient art of the sword. Could you kill your own food? If you did, I bet you would have more respect for life. That's what it did for me." Limey: "I'm sure." Ameridork: "That's the problem with the world. We are not connected with nature anymore. I mean, we live such a sedimentary life that we wouldn't know what to do if we didn't have electricity." (readers, DNA shits you not, he said "sedimentary" when he meant "sedentary." DNA almost stopped him then, but found that DNA was still speechless at Ameridork's display) Limey: "Absolutely." Ameridork: "Like right now, approximately 60% of people just wouldn't make it if there was some kind of electromagnetic pulse from a meteor or something, or from some smart bomb, which wiped out all electricity for like, 20 years or something. I mean sure, some people would adapt, but we are so dependent on this fragile system, that we would just fall apart without it. I don't think people could live in a city without electricity. People would just die." Limey (who by this point had tried to claw his way through the glass of his window seat): "Rome seemed to do alright." Ameridork: "But where is it now, huh? And anyway, I mean a modern city. So, is Japan cool? I would love to study the art of the sword there, with a master. My dojo is taught by a real Japanese swordmaster, Nakajita..." AD NASEUM...FOR THREE FUCKING HOURS. After the first two minutes, which is summarized above, DNA was sick. "This," thought DNA, "is our ambassador to the world: "El-low, there old chum, you're in the colonies now, so prepare to 'ave your notions 'bout propriety and decency buggered. What 'choo lookin' at? Piss off!"
It is staggering how much is wrong with everything this blockhead said to the international traveler, and how polite the Limey was being, to a painfully obtuse idiot. Which is probably how he described us later that day, when his wife called him on his cell phone.
Permanent Historical Record: 2/3/07
Just Because I Hate You Doesn't Make Me Intolerant
(or, if it looks like a tribal sun, and smells like a tribal sun, you must be a hippie)
DNA got a another post to its guestbook. Unlike most guestbooks, DNA keeps this one private, and shares when it feels like it. So far, there haven't been many comments worth sharing, but recently, AfroDJYak sent me a submission. It's as follows: Nice new guitars, hippie.
The guitars AfroDJYak are referring to are here:
DNA's new Michael Kelly archtop Tribal Sun guitar
DNA's Traben Tribal Sun Bass
The tribal sun design doesn't make DNA a hippie, does it? DNA was willing to accept that owning a matching guitar and bass makes it a twinkie, but is the tribal sun really synonymous with hemp and free love? Is the tribal sun an icon that has went the way of the rainbow and the fish, co-opted by a group and twisted into the logo for their own twisted message? Short answer: Yes. BUT, the kokopelli guy is the hippie symbol, AfroDJYak. The tribal sun is for wannabees who think they are in touch with their primitive selves, so they get that symbol tattooed on their ankles, y'know, the way the ancients used to, or they go out and get things branded with that symbol to demonstrate to all who see their SUV's or surf boards how much more closely to nature they live than you. Of course, the most pretentious fucks buy matching guitars and require all of those who play music with them to adopt the tribal sun motif---in their haircuts, drum heads, basketballs, anything you can stick a picture of a chrome tribal sun on. The Hopi indians were the sole producers of chrome in the 1940's, before the Dutch began commercial mining in Zambia. The real turquoise jewelry, the real stuff made by native americans, not koreans, that stuff is made with 100% pure chrome, not silver.
What motivated DNA to buy that guitar? It was not the tribal sun, it can tell you. As usual, DNA is fairly dense about possible meanings that other people may ascribe to things, or the way other people might interpret something, like buying matching guitars. DNA looked at about 200 guitars over the course of three months, and kept coming back to several guitars that were within the price range, and the quality that DNA was after. The Michael Kelly archtop just kept showing up. The one DNA wanted first was Les Paul blem/b-stock guitar, but by the time DNA finally got to buying it, it was no longer available at the price, so it went with the tribal sun. The tribal sun design looks nice, too, regardless of how many other pathetic losers are now wrapped up in that symbol. Now, getting a bass to match, well, that was pretty queer. No apologies. Actually, it sounds great, and has been worth every penny DNA paid for it.
At some point, the DNA Vibrators will probably play out live again, and yes, DNA has tried to visualize what it will look like onstage if it actually brings both the tribal sun bass and guitar out. What would DNA think if it were out watching a show, at random, and this band gets up on stage, and the bass player and the guitar player have matching guitars? What would it think?
"Hey, is this the Hanson reunion?"
"Hey, is this that Hanson tribute band?"
"Do you think they went shopping together?"
"It was fate that stepped in, when Roland and Paul showed up at the audition with the same guitar."
"Does this tribal sun go with my nails? Of course it does, silly!"
"I'm glad they are not ashamed of who they are."
"I wonder what tribe they are?"
"If I'd have known, I would have brought my tribal sun guitar, too!""
"Hey, wouldn't it be cool, if they had a girl keyboard player, and like, she had a moon hanging off her keyboard, and then a horn section all had stars dangling from the bells of their horns....oh, you're right, that would suck dick."
"A tribal sun? Two tribal suns! That's my fucking schtick, man. How dare they!!"
So, DNA is aware of potentially how pretentious, and really lame it will be to have matching guitars on stage, ala Poison or some shit like that. The only solution will be to be so awesome when we play out, that people will go with it.
So, AfroDJYak, and Hand of God Attachment, DNA has thrown down the gauntlet. We will have matching guitars. We will also wear matching purple outfits, yes, outfits, not suits or clothes, OUTFITS, and we will rock so fucking hard that when people see us, they'll want tribal sun guitars and purple outfits, too. And if we don't, won't that be fun?
Permanent Historical Record: 2/4/07
People, News, and Views...
AfroDJYak was kind enough to send me the picture of his
New drum set.
Pretty awesome. Here is the
purple outfit DNA has in mind. This, of course is in reference to the last blog post, in which DNA will require all who play with him to wear the purple outfit and play the tribal sun instrument.
DNA has placed a new feature on the main page called Basses DNA Has Loved And Lost, so if you have the blog bookmarked, take a minute to go back to the main page and check it out.
Lastly, an update on the recording: It is done. DNA is finishing up the artwork. Then it will get some product out to the online distributor. Exciting, huh?
Permanent Historical Record: 2/4/07
Two In One Day
Yes, DNA has no life, on a Super Bowl Sunday, which is why it can post twice on the same day. DNA began to air its political opinions last year in letters to the President of the United States, and to its state senators, Barak Obama and Dick Durbin. So far, DNA got a form letter from the White House, a semi personal letter from Barak, and now, it has a response from Senator Durbin. Here it is, in its entirety:
Dear Mr. Vibrator:
Thank you for contacting me about the war in Iraq. I appreciate hearing from you.
I did not vote for the resolution authorizing this war. I believed that other options were available and that war should be the last option. Far too many of our men and women in uniform have died in this war, including many from our own Illinois communities who serve in the National Guard and Reserves. My deepest sympathies go out to the families and friends of those who have lost their lives in this endeavor, as well as to the many other American soldiers who have suffered life-changing injuries.
Unfortunately, it is easier to get into a war than to get out of one. With our involvement now in its fourth year, more than 3,000 American soldiers have been killed and more than 22,000 have been wounded. In addition to the loss of life, this war is costing us $2 billion each week. Add to this the escalating sectarian violence, and the unknown number of innocent Iraqi civilians who have perished as a result, and it is clear that the current "stay the course" approach is not working and that the Bush Administration lacks a coherent strategy to stabilize Iraq and achieve victory.
It is time for us to end our open-ended commitment in Iraq, and for American troops to start coming home. I am working to secure Senate passage of a measure opposing President Bush's plan to escalate the number of U.S. troops in Iraq and calling for a strategy that would charge the Iraqi government with the primary mission of combating sectarian violence and fostering reconciliation. I also support the conclusions of the bipartisan Iraq Study Group, which would allow most U.S. combat forces to redeploy from Iraq by the first quarter of 2008. Yet, instead of a phased redeployment, the President wants to send more American soldiers into the middle of a dangerous civil war. Simply increasing the number of troops, without changing the mission of our troops, will not produce victory.
The sad truth is that, from the beginning, the Bush Administration discounted any evidence that did not fit with its view that Saddam Hussein was an imminent threat to the United States and that Iraq could be easily rid of him and turned into a democracy. The main reasons offered for going to war with Iraq - that its possession of weapons of mass destruction and its close ties to global terrorist groups represented an imminent threat to the United States - were gross exaggerations.
Similarly, Administration officials greatly underestimated the difficulties associated with the post-war occupation and reconstruction of Iraq. Despite warnings from both internal and independent experts, Bush Administration officials insisted that U.S. troops would be welcomed as liberators and they did not plan for the situation we face today.
Even though Congress gave the Administration every dollar it requested, too many soldiers have traveled the dangerous roads of Iraq in inadequately armored Humvees, with widespread reports of soldiers lacking vital equipment such as protective body armor and modern defensive equipment on helicopters. The failure to properly equip our military personnel is unconscionable. I have pressed hard for the deployment of up-armored Humvees and the best equipment we can give our forces. I also worked successfully to increase the level of combat pay we provide to our troops and have fought to make up the salary difference for federal employees who take a pay cut when they are mobilized as a member of the National Guard or Reserves, just as many state and local governments and private companies have done for their employees.
Our troops have done everything we have asked of them. We owe it to them to make it clear to Iraq's political leaders and its people that it is time for the Iraqi people to take responsibility for securing and governing Iraq. The Iraqi government faces a difficult road ahead, and we should continue to help them as they strive to move forward. But by continuing the current open-ended military commitment in Iraq, the Bush Administration is simply prolonging the day when the tens of thousands of U.S. soldiers there are able to return home to their families. I will continue to urge President Bush to adopt a new direction in our nation's policies toward Iraq.
Thank you again for your message. I will continue to keep your concerns in mind as this situation develops further.
Sincerely,
Richard J. Durbin
United States Senator
This feels kind of like a semi-personal letter too, but both of the senators score with DNA compared to other politicians DNA has written. Help DNA out. If you are from Illinois, write senator Durbin or senator Obama. Tell them your view on the Iraq war. DNA would like to know if your letter is the same as the ones it got.
Permanent Historical Record: 2/9/07
TIPS FOR THE TRAVELING BAND:
TIP #32: Become a member of ASCAP. It's not a hat for your butt. It's a performance royalty agency. How do you do that? Link here. When you do, it will give you the option of signing up as a composer and publisher. You should do it. Protect your work now, so later, if you do actually get luckier than fuck, you are already covered.
TIP #33: When your band starts to get some notoriety, don't sweat the small stuff----meaning don't get bent out of shape if you are not the "headliner" for a show, when you think you ought to be the headliner. You know who cares about that? You, and about 7 other people (the members of your band and the members of the actual "headliner"). We wasted so much energy getting pissed off that we were the second or third bill, when being the headliner rarely gave us the best time slot to play. As long as its after 9pm, there are few bad times to play. Once you headline a few shows, and realize that your night of hard work loading shit back out of the club BEGINS at 2:30 am, and that by that time, there is nobody around to help you lug your shit out, being the second or third bill doesn't sting so much. Anyway, once you're recognized, people will actually start to come out at the time you are playing, so you become the headliner, no matter what time it is.
TIP #34: Don't get wasted before or during a show. Particularly if you are the only one in the band who does this. You are fucking it up for the rest of the guys. And, unless you are Frampton, getting fucked up and playing does not make you sound better. It makes you sound like you got fucked up and went out and tried to play. Have a drink or two. Keep a steady supply of beers up on stage. You sweat and work most of that alcohol out as you progress through your set. But, if you want a great sounding set, don't get drunk, looped, fucked up, stoned, whacked, blown, freaked out, or any other euphemism for losing control of your faculties. Rock and roll is theater---its all about looking like you are losing control, and that takes concentration and LOTS of control.
TIP #35: Handle brushes with stardom like they are no big deal. You might share a stage with a big time band. You might be in the dressing room or backstage at the same time. Don't be all freaky. They are just regular guys, with likely only about the same amount of talent as you. The only difference is that they get playboy models offering them blowjobs when they go backstage. Yeah, that is a pretty big difference. One can see how easy and seductive the lure of being a successful band would be, and how that might change a person. It is hard to be grounded when everybody keeps lifting you up in the air. However, let the big artist know you respect their work, but don't go fawning all over them. Make it your personal mission to rock so hard that when you leave the stage, the big time artist is glad they saw YOU.
This reminds DNA of the time when it ran a large record store in Paducah, Kentucky. Billy Ray Cyrus made a personal visit to the store. It was planned in advance, so that Billy Ray would come in and sign stuff for fans. This was not at the height of his fame. This was at a time during which he would consent to come to podunk record stores and sign fan crap. However, achey-breaky, gouge DNA's eyes out with a melon-y-bally, had left a permanent dent in the skull of cuntry music, and people just couldn't get enough of this mullet sporting,embroidered leather jacket wearing ex-jock. On the day of the event, 1200 people showed up. Yeah, it made DNA kind of sick, too. We didn't know exactly when Billy Ray was going to show up. We just knew we were getting a call about 15 minutes in advance. We had hired extra security, and mapped out a "secret" entrance (the mall's service door and hallway, through which we carted our "secret" trash every night). We had a plan to get him unseen into our storage room (which we had spent hours converting into a "relaxation" room for him). When he arrived, he and his entourage (yes, even then he had an entourage) quickly set up their HQ, and ALLOWED us to come back and meet him one at a time. Billy dictated the flow of the lowly store employees, who would have the chance to pass by some of the cologne he left in a haze around him, so that the lowly employees could have a reason to live, and a story to tell their grandchildren. DNA wasn't interested. However, DNA's immediate boss, who was also there, made it clear that it would be rude if DNA did not make an appearance and suck toe like everyone else. When it was DNA's "turn," DNA walked up to the door, opened it, and saw Billy Ray's trailer park wife, and two or three record label types, who were a little too slick for their own good, talking to who knows on their cell phones. Billy himself was seated at a table, drinking a bottled water, and wearing dark sunglasses. Inside. A poorly lit break room. DNA was impressed. As DNA walked up, in spite of itself, it felt a little nervous. However, DNA wasn't going to pander to this guy. "Mr. Cyrus, thank you for taking the time to visit the store. You have a lot of fans outside." He kind of nodded his head as we shook hands. "Sorry about the glasses. I've got an eye infection, and it looks all puffy." That one little instant changed everything. He was just a guy. Yeah, he was surrounded by people who treated him like royalty, and yeah, he had made more money off of one song that most artists do in their entire careers, and after enough time, anyone would believe that their shit didn't stink if enough people kept telling you they liked the smell of your shit, but in the end, he gets pink eye like anyone else. He gets screwed over by label guys who don't see a hit single. DNA shuffled out stage left, and the next schmoe came in. So, DNA laughed at his hair, was contemptuous of the pomp and circumstance, felt kind of depressed that Billy Ray made it big while Todd Snyder is still hardly recognized, but in the end, DNA thinks that Billy Ray appreciated someone coming in and just talking to him, and not fawning over him.
A similar experience happened when DNA ran into the guys from Aerosmith. This was many years ago, and Aerosmith was playing the SIU arena. DNA was a student at SIU at the time. DNA had a class in the Tech building, across from the arena, and needed to make a call. It was after most professor's office hours, so DNA walked over to the arena, because it knew there were pay phones there. While walking down a hallway, DNA saw the band. DNA went to use the phone, and a big necked guy said, "You need to step back." To which, DNA said, "Listen, I know its Aerosmith, what's up, guys--- but I need to use the phone." Steven Tyler told the bodyguard to lay off. DNA nodded at him, and said, "Thanks." Tyler said, "That's cool." Regular guys. Surrounded by the hottest and dirtiest girls that ever were on campus, but regular guys, nonetheless.
So, don't be star-struck when you see a star, or worse, if you meet your "hero." Be respectful, but remember they get pinkeye and std's just like you.
Permanent Historical Record: 2/13/07
Meet The Bigwigs....
Today, DNA got to pitch his double ultra top secret educational musical project to the people at the Office of Research and Development at the University. It actually went well. DNA wasn't nervous. DNA believes in this project. DNA finally began to understand some basic rules about being successful that it needed some perspective to see.
When the tool of The DNA Vibrator was a young lad, a college student, in the band Crank, he and several other like minded punks from other bands got together and decided that what Carbondale needed was a real all ages club which had community support. Crank and other bands had long played underground clubs to reach younger audiences, but felt that as they were maturing, they should find a way to more effectively work within the system than continue to eke out shit as outsiders.
This is that point, philosophically in life, at which you determine that you can do more good working from the inside to subvert the message of the dominant culture, than from being excluded from those avenues of power, and remaining subordinate. So, a group of us formed a record label, Diamond Drill Music. We attempted to enlist community organizations to help us further our goals. One goal was to use a beautiful new venue in Marion, Illinois, as an all ages showcase. We made our pitch to the stodgy old folks who were in charge of the hundreds of thousands of donated dollars which had restored the old theater, and although they liked our "fire," they were not willing to take the risk that an all ages show might entail. We were still learning how to do this kind of thing. We didn't know how to answer some of their valid questions, and frankly, were too young to have the biggest credential they needed: experience. So, when they asked us basic questions, like, who will provide security? Who will provide insurance? What will you do if a patron brings an illegal substance or a weapon to the venue, we were nervous, and had no idea how to answer them. Well, not true, but the answers revealed our naivety. The old farts already had the answers to those questions. They already had the experience promoting events, but, since we didn't have those answers, the event never happened.
The tool was the primary speaker for the group, years ago. Why did he fail? He believed in the concept. However, at that time, he was still "playing" at trying to do a real thing. This was not something that meant more to him than breathing, and so, others could sense that, and why should they invest in the risk if they didn't think we had thought out the risk? As a side note, the restored theater burend down to the ground about a year later. Apparently, the old farts didn't have the experience they needed, either.
Which, is why, years later, as DNA stood in front of an august panel of learned scholars and people with the power to make decisions worth a LOT of money, he was comfortable. This time, the idea was something the tool could and did believe in, an idea that was bigger than he was, an idea that would be successful whether or not these folks agreed with him. This was something he could do, at this time, at this place, perhaps better than anyone else. So, again, not knowing exactly what to expect, he simply described what he had in mind, and why it was a worthwhile idea. He thought he did pretty well for himself. He will know in a week of so if they agreed.
Later this week, DNA will be traveling to Pittsburgh, PA, for an international conference at which he will talk to groups of learned educators about his super cool double secret kick ass educational idea. Will it still be secret? Sure. He's just telling teachers. Nobody listens to them.
Also, CDBaby! has the DNA Vibrators' disc, The Shape Of Things To Have Come And Gone. They asked to give them a week or so to scan everything in, etc., and then it will be ready to sell. A press kit has went to the local entertainment rag, one will be going to the University's newspaper, and then radio kits will be going out to a half dozen local, college, and cable stations. Cross your fingers. DNA might sell a copy or two of the disc. And who knows, you might hear a DNA song on the radio in southern Illinois. Perhaps a gig is on the horizon sooner than one might think?
Permanent Historical Record: 2/14/07
V.D. HAPPY V.D. HAPPY V.D. HAPPY V.D. HAPPY V.D. HAPPY V.D. HAPPY V.D. HAPPY V.D. HAPPY V.D. HAPPY V.D. HAPPY V.D. HAPPY V.D.
On this holiday, the tool of The DNA Vibrator engages in a tradition of writing silly poetry to the woman of his life, Lara. DNA will not share those romantic little cuts across its dignity's wrists with you. You might think it funny that DNA celebrates Valentine's Day. Let's be clear: DNA doesn't celebrate Valentine's Day, but DNA sure as hell knows what happens if it doesn't provide appropriate poems and chocolate on Valentine's Day. Anyway, Valentine's Day has always been a relationship "get out of jail free" day, so why not celebrate it? It is worth it for you to get something nice for your significant other. You know the best day to tell your girlfriend that you bought a new guitar? Valentine's Day. Well, after a certain time of day, say, right about 10 minutes after you have presented her your gift(s).
Today, do something nice for your significant other. Not because it is Valentine's Day, but just because. And while you are thinking of what you might do with, or to, that person, here is some of DNA's own research on St. Valentine's Day for you to think about. [DNA's Note: on 2/19/07, DNA removed this part of the post. It was gay. Trust me, it was not worth your time to read, like any of this actually is, but you really would be thanking me now if you knew what was here before. You're welcome. It was so sad, it was a really a cry for help. DNA has since went into rehab, and expunged this mark against its character from the public record].
Permanent Historical Record: 2/15/07
Back To Reality
Although writing the 2/14/07 post was fun, [DNA's note: removing it was funner] it certainly was a departure for the DNA Vibrator. DNA had just finished reading Pointless Waste of Time, one of the best web destinations to make you want to crack a smile, and felt inspired. This kind of comedy is an art form. DNA will leave it to the professionals. Besides, DNA has more important, or at least, more self-centered, goals to achieve.
First, was anyone else out there both nervous and excited to hear that The Police were going to play at the Grammy's? Nervous, because they could possibly really suck, and excited, cuz Stewart Copeland is fucking A-1, the best living drummer in rock and roll. Well, they exceeded DNA's expectations. They played well together. It looked like Sting and Copeland got over whatever tiff they had 20 years ago.
DNA was inspired by the old guys playing together. DNA will put a call out to AfroDJYak, and find out when he might be able to come down this spring and do a show in Carbondale. DNA will time it with the release of the CD in local stores, and after it has had a chance to circulate among the local radio stations.
DNA will be on the road for the next few days, in sunny Pittsburgh, PA. Anybody know any good pizza joints there?
Permanent Historical Record: 2/19/07
Pittsburgh. DNA Wasn't Expecting What Happened In Pittsburgh...
DNA traveled to Pittsburgh for the super double secret educational project it has been working on. It presented some findings at an international conference, no bullshit. First, let's just say, that the presentation was cool. Very knowledgeable people left DNA's area, saying things like, "This is a good idea," or "Could you come to Iowa and do a presentation," or, "Did somebody just fart?" (The answer, by the way, was yes, DNA did fart, but was able to blame it surreptitiously on this old guy to DNA's left). DNA answered its own question from the last post, which was about good pizza joints in Pittsburgh. DNA realizes that his research is quite incomplete, but Cafe Milano delivered some damn good pizza. DNA heartily recommends it. The only thing DNA did not like about the whole situation was that the delivery guy only went to the lobby of the hotel. DNA was on the 21st floor, of one of the ritziest hotels in Pittsburgh, and the delivery guy made DNA go to the lobby for the 'za? Whot tha fock? DNA imagined that sometime, say last year, some guy was delivering pizza there, and went up to the room, say on the 25th floor, and as he knocked on the door, he saw a rush of movement to his left, a swing of an arm, and felt the sharp blow of a truncheon across the back of his head. Or, somebody ding-dong-ditched on the 42nd floor. By the time he made it up there, he couldn't take the pizzas back; so, because someone else got to have some fun, DNA is stuck doing the walking. Anyway, the pizza was worth it.
DNA purposely dresses like a country fried dumbfuck when he goes to places like this: overalls, steal-toed boots, old tee shirts, John Deere hat. It' s the same logic the tool of The DNA Vibrator employed when he was a college student. At that time, the tool dressed in the standard punk uniform: jeans, obscure band tee shirt, army boots, and
seriously fucked up hair. The whole point is to upset people's expectations. They don't expect you to be a reasonable human being when you have a stovepipe hat made of your living hair on your head. Nor, do rich, privileged upper crust types expect that farmer Joe will converse at their level of discourse. So, when DNA walked into the elevator with a pizza in his hand, DNA could see the wheels turn in the heads of those in the elevator. A couple people immediately treated DNA like a non-entity. One person backed right up to me so that DNA had to hold the pizza box above the tool's head, or it would have dumped. The elevator wasn't that crowded. Her friend, whose eyes DNA could see, flashed a look like, "I'm sorry about my insensitive friend," and DNA looked back like, "Oh, don't worry bout me none, I sure am used to bein' shit on out on the farm!" One fellow next to DNA, noting that holding a pizza over the tool's head might be tiring , said, "I sure hope you don't have far to go. That takes some skill," referencing the holding with one hand, splayed fingers under the center of the box. DNA said, "I don't know, I've never done this before." The guy didn't know what to say. He was having difficulty reconciling the facts: Middle-aged farmer employed on his first day in the big city at the pizzeria, having to learn how to hold the pizza box on the fly. That moment was worth every minute of doing the leg work for the pizza.The unexpected shit happened on the way back. See, DNA drove to Pittsburgh, which is about 9 hours, if you drive apeshit bat crazy like DNA does. However, it is not wise to drive too fast through the mountains of West Virginia, particularly when the roads are somewhat snow or ice covered. DNA took a more southerly route out, and avoided all unpleasant weather. On the way back, all reports indicated a fast "clipper," that doesn't sound so bad, a "clipper" zipping through the midwest, depositing an inch or so of snow. The further south, the more snow, but the higher temps. DNA took a middle road back, going through Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Ohio, and then Kentucky, and then finally, back to sweet home southern Illinois, or as we locals refer to it, "so ill."
The clipper, for those of you who were not in the United States over the last couple of days, turned out to be a serious bitch, not a little currier and ives snow capped mountain scene. It was ugly. High winds. Low temps, lots of blowing snow. For 450 miles, from Pittsburgh to Elizabethtown, Kentucky, driving was like plowing through a constant rain of volcanic ash. White knuckled the whole way, watching semis jack-knife and others slide across lanes of traffic, this was expected, and nothing compared to the shock which DNA experienced during the first 20 minutes of the 12 hours on the road in the snow. (DNA did not make it back home---it had to pull of the road a few miles past Elizabethtown, and stayed at a homey little place called the Hatfield Inn. DNA expected the McCoy Inn to be across the street. These folks didn't mind the overalls.)
As DNA started to drive back home, Saturday, after the international conference was over, it had not yet started to snow in Pitsburgh. However, snow had fallen there over many days. On I-79, one of the main roads out of Pittsburgh, a truck in front of DNA, actually no, not a truck, a fucking hug a tree while I destroy the wilderness HYBRID SUV was in front of DNA. The roof of this vehicle was covered with a sheet of ice, approximately 1-2 inches thick, the entire width and length of the roof. How does DNA know this so accurately? Because DNA was a couple of hundred feet behind this fucker when the wind pulled the ice sheet off the SUV, and launched it like a sail in the air. It was a beautiful ballet of ice, force, wind, and parabola, which only took an instant, but seemed like a slow motion replay of Franco Harris' immaculate reception (couldn't resist a great old Steelers allusion---considering DNA's location). DNA watched this sheet of ice flip high into the air, and then quicly realized that it was not going to land nears its car, not close to its car, but on, and DNA means, directly on, its car. In the span of a heartbeat, and a squint of the eyes, tensing of the shoulder muscles, and a quick half-shouted "Oh FUCK!" the ice sheet rocketed directly INTO the windshield of the vehicle DNA was driving. In the split second this was occurring, DNA knew it couldn't swerve to the right or left (busy, fast interstate with traffic on both sides) and couldn't slam on the brakes (traffic right behind it). For a fraction of a second, DNA thought the ice sheet might miss, or might be held up by the wind, or at the worst, might hit the hood of its vehicle, and in that split second, it didn't think it would be a big deal. After all, it's freaking snow. How big or heavy or thick or structurally sound could it be? Well, how about this: Structurally sound enough for a seventy mile an hour wind to lift it in one piece off the roof of a car, vault it about a hundred feet in the air, and slam it, still in one piece, into the windshield of a fucking car, nimrod!!! That is what DNA thought in the next split second as it became obvious that gravity and physics work the same here as any place else on the planet.
It hit at face level. DNA kept its eyes open to witness the event. DNA was not scared. When this kind of thing happens, what can you do? Prepare, and go with it. It shattered into thousands of pieces, and shook the car with its impact. The glass was frosted white. For a moment, after the "Oh FUCK!" DNA thought for sure it was going to shatter the windshield, and smash into the tool's face. Even if it didn't physically hurt, DNA thought in that instant that it would be unlikely that it could maintain control of the vehicle. I-79 was perched pretty high up on the side of a hill/mountain outside of Pittsburgh. DNA pictured the car, if it didn't hit anybody else's car, making a beautiful swan dive into a valley below. Well, it hit, it didn't break the windshield, and quickly, DNA hit the wiper blade controls. It took several swipes, but DNA could see through a clear spot and kept composure. After DNA realized it was a lucky fucker, and the adrenaline ebbed somewhat, and the sound of heartbeats did not fill its ears, DNA had the urge to release this pent up energy. The guy in the SUV must have known something had happened, because he quickly moved to the far side of the interstate, and slowed down. DNA pulled up next to him, and acted out the most over-emoted "What the FUCK is wrong with you!!!" it has ever over-emoted. In the end, DNA was not mad at the guy. DNA doesn't think he planned it. And if he did, DNA's hat is off to him: What excellent execution!
DNA actually was happy the event happened, because DNA stayed on its toes for the rest of the hellish drive home.
On to other topics: About the Valentine's Day post: DNA realized that it wasn't nearly as funny if you didn't know what parts DNA added, and what parts were actually part of the real wikipedia article. So, DNA removed it. There is a link back to the original post if you really want to read it, but DNA doesn't recommend that you do.
Finally, DNA just a heard a terrific band called Oh My God from Chicago. Their website is ohmygodmusic.com. Next time DNA is there, it will try to catch a show.
Permanent Historical Record: 2/28/07
I'm waiting.....
For those of you who check the blog and website regularly, you may have noticed that this is the longest that DNA has gone with blogging, since it started this website, 17 years ago. Not that there haven't been updates: DNA is always tinkering around. For example, two Coolies' songs were added just a couple of days ago.
Either way, DNA is going on without you. It's not like time is material, here. Time exists on the internet the way way it does at the quantum level. So, even if you are not back when DNA continues, you are back when DNA continues. Of course, you are not back when DNA actually continues. You were not here when DNA actually continued. So any way you look at it, the contrivance of time and conversation on the internet is like watching a video of a car crash. Maybe its the first time you are seeing it, and maybe you think it just happened. For you, your perception of the pain the people inside the car is going through is real now. So too, the pain of DNA is real for you now.
Now that that little rant is over, and you folks are actually, in reality, now ALL back from listening to the songs, what did DNA tell you? If only the Coolies had had as much business sense as they had talent 17 years ago, they just might have just become the corporate assbags that as teenagers, they dreamed of becoming. Instead, they remained "artists." Whoopeefuckingdoo. Art don't pay the bills.
Which brings me to the title of this post: "I'm Waiting...." A couple of weeks back, DNA was under the impression that last week or this week, the record review/article was going to be in the Carbondale Nightlife but it looks like that it hasn't happened yet. So, DNA was waiting, and just didn't have the spark to write, cuz it was hoping to have a cool record review to cut and paste onto the blog page. See what happens when you wait? NOTHING. So, tomorrow, after DNA archives the blog for the month of February, if there is no record review, DNA is going to write its own. Also, this week, DNA had to travel to Chicago for work, and got to spend some time with AfroDJYak. AfroDJYak reminded DNA of why for a time, DNA's nickname was "Crash." Also, at the conference DNA attended, DNA heard some "advice" from a motivational speaker which it will paraphrase to show exactly what is wrong with motivational speakers. The month of march is stacking up to be exciting for any lonely or pitiable blog readers out there.
In cooler news, the new CD, "The Shape Of Things To Have Come And Gone" has already sold nearly 2000 copies!!!! At least, when looking at the big picture, from a geologic scale, the actual number of sales, say for comparative purposes, is much closer to 2000 than to 2,000,000,000,000. In fact when comparing a number like 2 times 10 to the third, to 2 times ten to the twelfth, DNA can say with confidence that its total number of sales is so much closer to 2 times ten to the third than 2 times ten to the twelfth, that in science, the small difference between what DNA has actually sold (almost 2) compared to 2 times ten to the third would easily be assumed to be statistically insignificant. Comparatively. Exciting, huh?
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