Song Lyrics

Song Lyrics

by The DNA Vibrator

copyright 2007, 2008, 2009

Brainmilk Publishing

Here are the lyrics for all of the record, "The Shape Of Things To Have Come And Gone," or as DNA calls it, TSOTTHCAG. If you are reading these, you should also be willing to wash DNA's car. Afterwards, DNA has included different lyrics from a variety of DNA songs, old and new. Enjoy!

After that is the lyric sheet for "From Obscurity To Global Domination In Three EASY Steps."

Hey Kids

Hey kids, don�t be so hard on your old man, he�s doing the best that he can.
He once was a kid too, y�know, although, that was a pretty long time ago.

Before the bills and the family and the upkeep on the home;
Before the car and the school and payment on the student loan.

Hey kids, don�t disrespect your old man, sleeping there sprawled out in his easy chair.
He once looked more like you well-muscled too, and he had a hell of a lot more hair.

Before the bills and the family and the upkeep on the home;
Before the car and the school and payment on the student loan.

Be glad he doesn�t know how to hang a plasma TV on the wall
Or why it's important to text your friends hanging out at the mall.

Hey kids, growing old was never part of the plan, it never is when you're a young man.
He once was in a rock and roll band, your friends will think he's cool but you'll never understand

Before the bills and the family and the upkeep on the home;
Before the car and the school and payment on the student loan.

Hey kids, let him remember the glory days, senility is still a few days away.
He once drove a car that was the bomb, had a hot chick on his arm, guess what, that was your mom!

Before the bills and the family and the upkeep on the home;
Before the car and the school and payment on the student loan.

Could you imagine if your dad was still cool how creepy that would be
Hanging out with 17 year olds, buying clothes at Hot Topic, even though he's 40?

Well

Well, I tried to tell the truth
But you, you lied, before you knew

The truth in all of its infamy
And how, ugly the truth can be
But now that you know aren't you happy?

That the well, that you tapped
Has gone dry, has went sour has been
Sapped, has caved in, has collapsed has been
Capped?

Thought it took a savior to turn that
Water to w(h)ine
But now that its done all we gotta do is
Waste a little time
To turn that wine into vinegar

Well, well, well, well, well, well, well, well

Were we ever in love, do you remember the place?
Or the feelings we felt do you still feel a trace?
Or impressions of the time we cared,
Or an outline of the love we shared,
Or is all that�s left the depression in your heart?
I�m so sorry to hear, that you're not

Well, you seem sick
Your mind's eye
Has been tricked.
It's sublime,
Difficult to see
Except for you
Except for me

Now you know the truth in all its infamy
And how ugly the truth can be
But now that you know, aren't you
Happy? Happy? Happy? Happy?

Well?

Plate Tectonic King

Alfred Wegener, what do you know!
Universally despised not long ago.
Naysayers' ideas withered and died,
But your ideas made worlds collide.

By comparative analysis of fossil flora and fauna;
Pangea, subsequently, Laurasia and Gondwana;
Continental drift, and polar wandering,
Makes you the plate tectonic king.

The plate tectonic king

Some of Wegener's ideas were wrong---
Like ocean floors which continents plowed along.
He couldn't explain how the continents moved
And so his theories were ignored or disproved.

But new evidence provided by paleomagnetism
Rock matches on each side of the Atlantic schism
Along with new theories, like seafloor spreading
Makes you the plate tectonic king.

The plate tectonic king

Ridge push, slab pull, convection in the lithosphere
Magnetic reversals and anomalies,
Divergent, convergent, and transform boundaries
Ocean drilling and satellite photos seem pretty clear

That convection currents in the mantle rock
Brings the hot mantle up to the top.
Mid-oceanic ridges are caused by rising flow
Ocean trenches plunge the cold rock below

The distribution of volcanoes and earthquakes explained
Mantle plumes and hot spots raising islands in long chains
The theory of plate tectonics remains especially appealing
Which makes you the plate tectonic king

The plate tectonic king
Alfred Wegener, what do you know?
The plate tectonic king
Alfred Wegener, what do you know?
The plate tectonic king
Alfred Wegener, what do you know?

I Wish I Would Have Listened To Him More

He rapped his knuckles on the table
The rhythm let you know he was around
He'd have danced if his knees were able
If you were close enough his love taps could knock you to the ground

He was quick to joke and quick to anger
A better friend you'd never get
Judged a man solely by his actions
And if you crossed him once you surely would regret the day you met

He was strong, he was tough, he was hard, he was brave,
He was fair, he was honest, principled and unafraid.
He was kind, he was faithful, he was simple, he was wise,
He was funny, he was thoughtful, would cut a bully down to size.
He raised me right, stood up to fight for the things worth fighting for.
I wish I would have listened to him more.

It was hard for him to say he was sorry
I've learned it's hard for any dad to say he's wrong
But he shouldered so much pain and worry
Sometimes it's difficult to bend when you have to be so strong

He taught us all the simple lessons
Like do your best and do what's right
Stand up for what you believe in
And believe with all your might

He was strong, he was tough, he was hard, he was brave,
He was fair, he was honest, principled and unafraid.
He was kind, he was faithful, he was simple, he was wise,
He was funny, he was thoughtful, would cut a bully down to size.
He raised me right, stood up to fight for the things worth fighting for.
I wish I would have listened to him more.

(solo)

He was strong, he was tough, he was hard, he was brave,
He was fair, he was honest, principled and unafraid.
He was kind, he was faithful, he was simple, he was wise,
He was funny, he was thoughtful, would cut a bully down to size.
He raised me right, stood up to fight for the things worth fighting for.
I wish I would have listened to him more.

Folsom Prison

I hear the train a comin' it�s rollin' 'round the bend
And I ain't seen the sunshine, since I don't know when
I'm stuck in Folsom Prison, and time keeps draggin' on
But the train keeps a rollin' on down to San Antone.

When I was just a baby, my momma told me, "Son,
Always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns."
But I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.
But when I hear that whistle blowin' I hang my head and cry.

(solo)

I bet there's rich folks eatin' in their fancy dining cars
They're probably drinkin' coffee and smokin' big cigars
But I know I had it comin' I know I can't be free
But those people keep a movin' and that's what tortures me.

Well if they freed me from this prison if that railroad train was mine
I'd bet I'd move out a little a little farther down the line
Far from Folsom Prison that's where I want to stay
And I'd let that lonesome whistle blow my blues away.

(solo)

Hard Science

You've got a heart of stone
As hard to crack and fragile like and ancient bone
Your granite smile tries to hide the faults of your rocky facade crumbling inside
I can't chisel through the layers deposited by you
To protect the delicate impression of the feelings you've fossilized

I didn't expect that my degree in paleontology would come in so handily
I like your Geology

I would like to graph the equation that would map the curve of your spine
Your hips, your lips, your fingertips trace a perfect ellipse
Which contradicts the tangents in my mind.
You know my angle, I'm deriving your cosign, and my solution is your change over time.

I like your Geometry, I like your Geometry, Pythagoras, he would agree
You spin the world, not gravity

And then it happened, I won, and she was mine, and that special place in my mind that she occupied really did change over time, so that she was no longer who I loved, but what I defined.

I don't need you to analyze, or synthesize, or criticize, the thousands of ways the things I say or think or feel is wrong.
My house of cards rests precariously upon the shards Of the glass one that I built and shattered, and scattered through the pieces of my life,
To the winds of the world, which have battered them, for so very long.

I don't need psychology, Astronomy, or Biology, to give you what I see you need,
So I'll leave with my apology.

A Brief History Of The DNA Vibrator

Went to school at Southern Illinois University at Carbondale
Fucked up just enough so that despite myself I nearly failed
Me and my homies on Hayes we would have parties for days
The scourge of the neighborhood, our music landed us in jail.

We spent our 20's in and out of half a dozen different bands
We spent our money in the studio like each dollar was a grain of sand
All on a quest to be granted immortality
A little radio airplay and our moment of truth would be at hand.

It's a funny thing your life has a way of working itself out
No matter which road you choose it follows a single route
My bands didn't hit it big, but every so often I still play a gig
I will always have my music and that's what it's all about.

The Three Deaths Of Juan Belmonte

Juan Belmonte, toreador, left a myth to explore
Defining what it is to be a man, to face your fears, to take a stand

The three deaths of Juan Belmonte
The three deaths of Juan Belmonte
The three deaths of Juan Belmonte

Friends with Ernest Hemmingway, checked out the same way
Knew when he had passed his prime, he selected his own time
The three deaths of Juan Belmonte
The three deaths of Juan Belmonte
The three deaths of Juan Belmonte

Well Juan's alright, yeah he's okay
Tomorrow will be a brighter day
Survived the night and he's seen the light
Cuz Juan was right, yeah!

Juan wanted to die in one of three ways: Horse riding, bullfighting, or getting laid
I'd prefer to be in bed, but either way, you end up dead

The three deaths of Juan Belmonte
The three deaths of Juan Belmonte
The three deaths of Juan Belmonte

Well Juan's alright, yeah, he's okay
Future's in his hands, charting his own way
Defended by might what he knew was right

Juan had the sight to see past today
To dream of his country's new glory days
Took a path one night, set a fire alight

Now it's burning bright if you wish to see
You can control your destiny
May not agree with his methodology
But Juan was right, yeah!

Victim Of Vicious Love

He didn't mean to harm anyone. He felt a little like Prince Charming and Don Juan
Rolled into one but she deserved so much more, to be treated like a queen instead of a whore.

Think about who you're pleasing whose consciousness you're easing
Caught in the grips of an everyday life, she was tired of being a mother and a wife.
Tired of looking around and seeing, other people enjoying just being alive.

Think about who you're pleasing whose consciousness you're easing

Victim of Vicious Love
Victim of Vicious Love
Victim of Vicious Love
Victim of Vicious Love

Each the object of the others' desires, they were burned into adulterers and liars.
Out of control in heated lust, incinerating everything that could combust.

Think about who you're pleasing whose consciousness you're easing

Less Than 1%
Not so defiant now that you're all alone. The shoes on the other foot since you've Walked so far from home.
How does it feel to have a target on your back? To not know who's a friend, or who's Likely to attack?

Hey, I
Don't believe that we can kill in God's name
Hey, I
Think the righteous are the fuel of Hell's flame

Now that you're caught and you can see what you've done, "It all felt so unreal" You thought when your hand was on the gun
Facing your victims, the judge has your fate in his hands Mercy is not a concept that we truly understand

Hey, I
Don't believe that we can kill in God's name
Hey, I
Think the righteous are the fuel of Hell's flame

Less than 1% of DNA separates man from ape
But you don't hear gorillas preaching love but feeling hate
Which species is more evolved only time will decide
Which one of us lives within our bounds and which one commits mass suicide

Now come to me children, let me gather my flock, the Lord has commanded a Thorny path to walk.
The time is now, gather round, for us to ascend, drink, drink up from this cup This is the beginning, not the end

Hey, I
Don't believe that we can kill in God's name
Hey, I
Think the righteous are the fuel of Hell's flame

Less than 1% of DNA separates man from ape
But you don't hear gorillas preaching love but feeling hate
Which species is more evolved only time will decide
Which one of us lives within our bounds and which one commits mass suicide

Pretty Ugly

Pretty ugly, awfully nice
Won't you take some good advice

Pick your contradictions up off the floor
Don't let complexity bother you anymore

Pretty ugly, awfully nice
Won't you take some good advice

Pick your contradictions up off the floor
Don't let complexity bother you anymore

Silent scream waking dream
Nearly perfect to me

Pretty ugly
Pretty ugly
Pretty ugly

Medicine Bag

I got a medicine bag which keeps my sickness away
I got a medicine bag which holds my demons at bay
I got some voodoo charms and dolls made of clay
I got some needles and pins which make my dolls obey

I got a medicine bag, I got a medicine bag, I got a medicine bag, okay?

I got a mojo suit, which I wear at night
I got a mojo suit which comes on when I turn out the light
I got some demon boots, made out of black rawhide
I got some ways to go but which way I can't decide

I got a mojo suit, I got some demon boots, I got a message for you, alright?

I'm givin' up my magic to get to you
Cuz without your spell I ain't doin' well
I said without your love I'm goin' to hell
Without your love I'm goin' to hell
Without your love I'm goin' to hell
Without your love I'm goin' to....Hell!

I got a medicine bag, I got a medicine bag, I got a medicine bag, yeah!

I'm givin' up my magic to get to you
Cuz without your spell I ain't doin' well
I said without your love I'm goin' to hell
Without your love I'm goin' to hell
Without your love I'm goin' to hell
Without your love I'm goin' to....

I'll be your warlock king if you are my queen
I'll be your warlock king like you ain't never seen
I will be your priest if you're my sacrifice
I will take your soul left to my own device

I'll be your warlock king, I'll be your warlock king, I'll be your warlock king,
If you'll be my queen.

Ghost Riders In The Sky

An old cowboy went ridin' out one dark and windy day
Upon a ridge he rested as he went along his way
When all at once a mighty herd of red eyed cows he saw
Plowin' through the ragged skies and up a cloudy draw

Their brands were still on fire and their hooves were made of steel
Their horns were black and shiny and their hot breath he could feel
A bolt of fear went through him as they thundered through the sky
For he saw the riders comin' hard and he heard their mournful cry

Yippee aye oooooo Yippee aye ayyyyyyyy
Ghost Riders In The Sky

Their faces gaunt, their eyes were blurred their shirts all soaked with sweat
He's ridin' hard to catch that herd but he ain't caught 'em yet
Cuz they've got to ride forever in that range up in the sky
On horses snortin' fire, as they ride on hear their cry

As the riders rode on by him he heard one call his name
If you want to save your soul from hell a ridin' on our range
Then cowboy change your ways today or with us you will ride
Tryin' to catch the devil's herd across the endless sky

Yippee aye oooooo Yippee aye ayyyyyyyy
Ghost Riders In The Sky

Yippee aye oooooo Yippee aye ayyyyyyyy
Ghost Riders In The Sky

Yippee aye oooooo Yippee aye ayyyyyyyy
Ghost Riders In The Sky

Yippee aye oooooo Yippee aye ayyyyyyyy
Ghost Riders In The Sky

One More Time

Her face was not the same
Her face was not the same
It looked more like her mother's
Her face was not the same

Her place was not the same
Her place was not the same
Now it was my brother's
Her place was not the same

Now that she's gone, the ties that bind
Once so strong seem so hard to find
I may be wrong, its hard to say
If my sister and brothers are drifting away

Her face was not the same
Her face was not the same
It looked more like her mother's
Her face was not the same

Her place was not the same
Her place was not the same
Now it was my brother's
Her place was not the same

I wish you were here, I wish I was there
I wish we had another moment to spare
You were my world now my world is gone
Foundation shattered which I stood upon

Her face was not the same
Her face was not the same
It looked more like her mother's
Her face was not the same

Her place was not the same
Her place was not the same
Now it was my brother's
Her place was not the same

I miss you much, I need you now
I guess I'll go on, but I don't know how
I'd give anything to have you back for awhile
To hear your voice and to feel your smile
One more time, one more time, one more time

Remember

There is a place that I can go, it is a place that I call home.
Love's currency is what we share between us all we're millionaires.
It's bought us happiness and joy, my sister's girls my brothers' boys.
It's like a flame that can't expire, and needs no fuel to keep its fire.
Faith is all it needs to burn, supplied, transformed, and then returned
To its eternal source above, best described only as Love.

There are few moments when its clear, when troubles seem to disappear
When time itself is standing still, like sunshine balanced on a hill,
When worry fades right from your eyes like sanguine clouds in autumn skies
Open them up again to see what�s always been a Mystery.

As we begin our family I sing this song to my baby,
So after many years have passed, this will be yours to the last.
Some token of love to survive, a memory to keep alive
Of those who passed away before and those who'll love you even more.


Fistful of Cleveland

Feels like you're sinking in a pit of quicksand
Before you�re under better snatch a fistful of Cleveland
Take something with you that they won't soon forget
Better do it now, when's the next chance you'll get

AAAAHHHHHHHHHH x4

When did you stop and park the car on the shoulder?
Was it when you noticed that you were grey fat and older?
Do the colors that you like now seem colder?
Does responsibility weigh on you like a boulder

Then shrug it off, kiss death right on the lips
Feelings retreated from your fingertips
And though you can not feel it in your hand
Before you go, better snatch a fistful of Cleveland

A Note To My Old Band

I was born a Nightsoil Coolie, yeah that's no foolie
Shoveled shit for money so I could go to schoolie
With my buddy Tony and my buddy Brian
We turned into a band without even tryin'
We practiced in the basement of 503 Hayes
Hassled by the cops for the music we made
And the way we played it so loud it shook walls
We took it out, told the girls "Hold our calls,"
While we went off To Beverly....Hills, that is.

We drove a van, we played guitars,
In the shittiest, of shitty bars
Like the Cubby Bear, where we once played,
18 damn bucks was all we made
Or 611, a pizza bar dive,
at least we didn't have very far to drive
We made lots of records, as many as we could
But when school was over we were finished for good
I wanna, I wanna be
I wanna, I wanna be
I wanna be a Nightsoil Coolie!
What about fish?
You forgot fish!
Man fish'll be pissed!

But that was years ago, time has passed away,
Tony went to Chi-town and Brian didn't stay
We sold the van, we split the cash,
I started livin' like white trash
But the crazy karma wheel it turns itself around

Cuz sometimes you're on the up and sometimes you're on the down
And when we all split who'd a thought we'd come back
With Brian in our memory to lay a bomb track

I wanna, I wanna be
I wanna, I wanna be

All I Want For Christmas Is A Whole Lotta Cash

All I want for Christmas is a whole lotta cash
That's what I want, so give it to me man
And if you don't, I'll take it if I can
And if you think that sounds a little selfish,
Well kiss my ass, cuz this is my wish
But,
I'd settle for less, like love and human kindness
But I won't get that shit, cuz the world's a mess
So, instead I'll pray
That god will come down and say,
"I gave you all one chance, and now you're going away."

All I want for Christmas is a whole lotta cash
To be at Indy when there is a terrible crash
200 horny women, and no itchy rash
To smoke a bowl with all my friends who dipped into my stash
All I want for Christmas is a whole lotta cash

But,
I'd settle for less, like love and human kindness
But I won't get that shit, cuz the world�s a mess
So, instead I'll pray
That god will come down and say,
"I gave you all one chance, and now you�re going away."

My holiday spirit, don't wanna get near it
My merry Christmas just can't resist this
Like mary's typhoid sickness,

I'm infected, I'm infected
To tell the truth about today
I been selected, I been selected
And if you listen very long
You'll feel corrected, you'll feel corrected
What do you mean my mastercard has been rejected?
Let me inspect it!
Maybe the magnetic strip has been affected.
Oh yes, American Express, Express
Will end my distress, distress
Now I can buy some useless shit
Cuz I need some, yeah I need some
Hey now pity that poor fucker
He ain't gettin' none, he aint gettin' none
Now it's time for Dave to play
Cuz this song is done, cuz this song is done
Oh yeah!

138

Everywhere I look...........................138
Pages in my book............................138
When the earth shook.................it was 138
Records that you took.......................138

It rings of conspiracy
Somethings happening to me


Everything I buy............................138
Channels in the sky.........................138
Mohave Desert high..........................138
Needles in my eye...........................138

It rings of conspiracy
Somethings happening to me

SOLO

It rings of conspiracy
Somethings happening to me


DEVO Was Right

Lay a million eggs, or give birth to one. Avoid display, or wear bright colors: It doesn't matter! The fittest shall survive, yet the unfit may live.

We must repeat, we must repeat, we must repeat, we must repeat

DEVO was right, DEVO was right, DEVO was right, DEVO was right

We're pinheads now, we are not whole, we're pinheads now, jocko-homo. Think or be led, to think that you're lead, if you're led to think, it might go to your head

We must repeat, we must repeat, we must repeat, we must repeat

God made man, but a monkey, sure look like you do

DEVO was right, DEVO was right, DEVO was right, DEVO was right

Meow

Meow��meow�..meow

Chance And Opportunity

It was a year ago today that you went away
There were so many things to say that I didn't say
Looking back I realize good-bye was in your eyes
Regret's a very bitter pill I think I had my fill

And if somehow by chance you were standing here before me
I wouldn't challenge circumstance or bore you with my story
I'd take that opportunity and go for the glory
Cuz I still love you.
---Break---- Yeah.

There is no better time than now but I don't know how
To form my words into a sound stronger than my vow.
I need to re-invent the wheel to get where I feel
And if I see you once again there'll be no might have been

And if somehow by chance you were standing here before me
I wouldn't challenge circumstance or bore you with my story
I'd take that opportunity and go for the glory
Cuz I still love you.

And if somehow by chance you were standing here before me
I wouldn't challenge circumstance or bore you with my story
I'd take that opportunity and go for the glory
Cuz I still love you.

Ethnic Song

We watched Discovery together flipped to 36 and watched the weather
Did everything to please each other, and lied, "We love it."

Once we danced Hava Nagila that first night that we met on the beach
It was our one real night in a life of unreality

She collected college sweaters but quit school after two semesters
She said my face was not as deep now, it�s not forever.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? How long is forever when you're 19?
She skipped out of town on Friday, like she was some kind of gypsy queen.

It wasn't love that made me upset, but fear that she was all the love I'd get
I still don't know if I regret, that She's
Gone
Now.

Seven years! Seven Years! Seven years without you! Seven years without you! Seven years! What if we had bee too afraid to run away? Would we hate each other today? I stopped thinking and started drinking, and asked her, to come.

Home with me.

She wore head to toe leather 36 displayed the weather
I wondered whether she remembered back when we did this.

Once we danced Hava Nagila, but tonight we fucked and drank tequila
I don't care if it was shallow, that was as honest as we could be.

We watched discovery together, flipped to 36 to watch the weather
Did everything to please each other, but
That's Over Now.

Strange Love

There are some mysteries in our long history, one mystery I'd like to know Is why did you notice me consider the remotest possibility that maybe you and I had some place to go?

No doubt that love is strange it makes sane seem deranged But all I want to do is find out whether or not you are crazy too.

I'd run fast as I can like the six million dollar man but I still didn't have the change to keep up with you. I'd go to the same club hoping our elbows would rub, and if that's all I was going to get, well it would have to do.

No doubt that love is strange it makes sane seem deranged But all I want to do is find out whether or not you are crazy too.

One night after a show, I thought that maybe you might go somewhere with me so I said hello. I walked up to you direct, you offered so I smoked one of your clove cigarettes, and we haven't looked back even once I got no regrets

No doubt that love is strange it makes sane seem deranged But all I want to do is shout out to the whole world that I'm crazy too.

Just Give Me A Drink

I don't wanna hear about how many beers you drank last night
Just gimme a drink
I don't care if it's bad I guess I'm just like my dad and now its time to fight
Just gimme a drink
So I kicked your ass, took a broken glass and made you take a bite
Just gimme a drink

Something to whet my tongue
Something alone to make me feel among
Something to kill me slow
Cuz that's the way I want to�

Well I'm not in control, but I achieved my goal cuz I think I gone blind
Just gimme a drink
What am I looking for, most the time it's the door but most the time I find
Just gimme a drink
The floor instead sometimes I wish I were dead, but that's a little too kind
Just gimme a drink

Something to whet my tongue
Something alone so I can feel among
Something to kill me slow
Another drink before I....

Something that's like a sin
Cuz it hurt to feel again
Something to kill me slow
Cuz I'm still scared to
Go.

Big Black Cadillac

Before my daddy died he taught me this fact
If you wanna ride, buy a big Cadillac
Add custom chrome and dual glass packs
And like the rolling stones, you want to paint it black

I got a big, black cadillac
I got a big, black cadillac
I got a big, black cadillac
I got a big, black cadillac

A 472, with 400 horsepower
Ridin on 22's at 100 miles per hour
Black leather seats, power everything
The stereo is sweet, I feel like I'm a king
In my big, black Cadillac
In my big, black cadillac
In my big, black cadillac
In my big, black cadillac

Out on the interstate, master of my fate, you'll recognize my taillights, if you're out driving on them hot summer nights.

I got a big, black, Cadillac
I got a big, black, cadillac
I got a big, black, cadillac
I got a big, black, cadillac

I Can't Be Your Robot

That robot he ain't your friend I know you don't wanna hear this but I just can't pretend
When it says that things will be okay, puts its head on your shoulder, I just gotta say,
That robot isn't programmed to feel although he's there and he is real, he isn't me.

His brain is made of wire and conduit instead of a heart a pump for hydraulic fluid
Designed by a corporation gyroscopically balanced, a frame of titanium A marvel of engineering, built to fool so I hope you�re hearing it isn't me

I can't be you robot a robot only is what its designed to be
But if you want somebody to love you no machine can do that better than me

You can't break a robot's heart because its made of plastic and steel
It may seem like its returning affection, but like a mirror, reflections don't feel
Reflections they don't feel.
Reflections they don't feel

I can't be you robot a robot only is what its designed to be
But if you want somebody to love you no machine can do that better than than me
I can't be you robot a robot only is what its designed to be
But if you want somebody to love you no machine can do that better than me

God Made Us Funky

I'm a carton of hate I'm a wedge of spite
I'm a carton of hate I'm a wedge of spite
We're Milk and Cheese We're Milk and Cheese
We both gone bad We just ain't right
Our big ass laffs Are too hardcore
You don't deserve anymore
We're Milk and Cheese buy our records please
Our aim's to sell so go to Hell

Chorus music

Fear us suckers fear our truth
Mindless violence beyond reproof
Are we evil so some claim
But society is to blame
Start a riot, lose control
We are gods of rock and roll
Give me beer, give me gin
We're liquored up so let the mayhem begin

God Made UsFunky
God Made Us Funky
God Made Us Funky
God Made Us Funky

Break down Read the liner notes

Fod made us gunky, no wait I mean god made us funky
God made us funky God made us funky
God made us funky God made us funky
God made us funky God made us funky

Lyrics from the record, "From Obscurity To Global Domination In Three EASY Steps"

There’s Something On Your Back

There’s something on your back, I think it might be a spider
No, I’m not gonna give it a smack, it might sink its fangs deeper inside you

It might pierce your spinal column, this close to your brain
It might instantly paralyze you, or drive you bat-shit insane

There’s something on your back, yes I know what I’m talking about
Now everyone stay calm, and whatever you do don’t SHOUT

Oh my God it’s on your back, Oh my God it’s on your back, Oh my God it’s on your back, Oh my God it’s on your back, Oh my God it’s on your back, Oh my God it’s on your back, Oh my God it’s on your back, Oh my God it’s on your back Oh my God

You don’t have to be afraid anymore
It always does what its done before

If there’s something on my back, I guess I’ll just shrug it off
And if it won’t leave with that, I guess I’ll take in for a walk

Yeah there’s something on my back, a burden we all carry around
and I wouldn’t be the same if I laid my burden down

Yeah there’s something on my back, a shadow that I’ve walked through
And I know you don’t want to hear this, but there’s something on your back too!

Oh my God it’s on your back, Oh my God it’s on your back, Oh my God it’s on your back, Oh my God it’s on your back, Oh my God it’s on your back, Oh my God it’s on your back, Oh my God it’s on your back, Oh my God it’s on your back Oh my God

Oh my God, It’s on your back
Oh my God, It’s on your back
Oh my God, It’s on your back
Oh my God, It’s on your back


The Future Is Rosie

When Rose was born she outshone the sun of a Sunday morning
With hair like flame softer than the flower which bears her name
Her parents love was deep, and while she was fast asleep
They thanked the lord above to be given this girl who would show them the world

Rosie, the future is Rosie
Rosie, the future is Rosie

When Rose was nearly four, she touched the screen of Heaven’s door
She was invited to stay, but decided to come back another day to play
On that fateful day, many people kneeled and prayed
That through hope and faith and love, she would be saved, she was so brave

Rosie, the future is Rosie
Rosie, the future is Rosie

break

Now 20 years have passed, when you want time to slow down, it moves too fast
But when you wanted it to fly everything was standing by
Everything changed that day, but everything changes, either way
Rose is who she wants to be, outshining the sun of a Sunday morning


Rosie, the future is Rosie
Rosie, the future is Rosie
Rosie, the future is Rosie
Rosie, the future is Rosie



Black Monday

The closing bell on Wall Street never sounded so sweet
As is did this afternoon; I’m getting drunk real soon
Half of what we own, I lost on the telephone
What am I going to say, when I see my wife today?

I can just imagine it, tragic as Plantagenet
With murder in her eyes, until she realized
If she kills me there is no way the life insurance will pay
So instead she sits and smiles shedding tears like a crocodile’s

It’s got to look like an accident like I tripped when I knelt and bent
To gather up my paper; they’re gonna need a scraper
To peel me off of that train, at least that’s what I’m praying
Now I hear the bells again, and see a light that looks like Heaven

Now I hear the bells again,
Now I hear the bells again
Now I hear the bells again
And see a light that looks like Heaven



God Made Us Funky

I’m a carton of hate
I’m a wedge of spite
I’m a carton of hate
I’m a wedge of spite
We’re Milk and Cheese, we’re Milk and Cheese,
We’ve both gone bad, we just ain’t right
Our big-ass laffs are too hardcore
You don’t deserve anymore
We’re Milk and Cheese, buy our records please
Our aim’s to sell, so go to hell

Fear us suckers, fear our Truth:
Mindless violence beyond reproof
Are we evil?
So some claim, but Society is to blame!
Start a riot, lose control
We are gods of rock and roll
Give me beer
Give me gin
We’re liquored up so let the mayhem begin

God made us funky!
God made us funky!
God made us funky!
God made us funky!

solo

God made us funky!
God made us funky!
God made us funky!
God made us funky!



Big Bad John

Big John, Big John

Every morning at the mine you could see him arrive
He stood six foot six and weighed 245
Kind of broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip
And everybody knew you didn’t give no lip to Big John

Big John, Big John, Big Bad John

Nobody seemed to know where John called home
He just drifted into town and stayed all alone
Didn’t say much, kind of quiet and shy
And if you spoke at all, you just said hi, to Big John

Somebody said he came from New Orleans
Where he got in a fight over a Cajun queen
A crashin’ blow from a huge right hand
Sent a Louisana fellow to the promised land, Big John

Big John, Big John, Big Bad John

Then came that day at the bottom of the mine
When a timber cracked and men started cryin’
Miners we’re prayin’ their hearts beat fast
And everybody thought that they’d breathed their last, ‘cept John

Through the dust and the smoke of this man-made hell
Walked a giant of a man the miners knew well
Grabbed a sagging timber, and gave out with a groan
And like a giant oak tree, just stood their alone

Big John, Big John, Big Bad John

solo

With all his strength he gave a mighty shove
Then a miner yelled out, “There’s a light up above!”
Then 20 men scrambled from a would-grave
Now there’s only one left down there to save and that’s John

With jacks and timbers, they started back down
Then came that rumble way down in the ground
Then the smoke and gas belched out of that mine
Everybody knew it was the end of the line for John

Big John, Big John, Big Bad John

Now they never re-opened that worthless pit
They just placed a marble stand in front of it
These few words were written on that stand:

At the bottom of this mine lies one hell of a man: Big John


Big John, Big John, Big Bad John
Big John, Big John, Big Bad John
Big John, Big John, Big Bad John
Big John, Big John, Big Bad John




I Got What I Got

20 years of drugs and drink ain’t hardly slowed me down
But when my fears make me stop and think why I’m still fuckin’ around
See I got no silver spoon just this guitar I detuned to make the girls come
I’m just a regular goon, a workin’ class buffoon, whose done before he’s begun

So when I sidle up to your girl, although you gave her the moon I’m gonna show her the world
And later when she feels the earth begin to heave beneath her feet she’s gonna wonder how I make an earthquake feel so sweet, yeah!

Cuz I got what I got, and I’m gonna get it on
I’m the freak that she’ll seek to make her weak from dusk til dawn
Yeah, I got what I got and man, you got none
So take your best shot, punk, and then I’ll drop you like an atom bomb

Lookin’ back at the things I done, and I shouldn’t a did
Baby I got regrets not one, nothing to forgive
See I’m like a natural force grinding on a course, through your trailer park
There ain’t no stoppin’ this man, I’ll finish what I began, on the hunt after dark

So when I whirl up to your girl, although you gave her the moon I’m gonna show her the world
And later when she feels the earth begin to heave beneath her feet she’s gonna wonder how I make an earthquake feel so sweet, yeah!

Cuz I got what I got, and I’m gonna get it on
I’m the freak that she’ll seek to make her weak from dusk til dawn
Yeah, I got what I got and man, you got none
So take your best shot, punk, and then I’ll drop you like an atom bomb

solo

I got what I got, and I’m gonna get it on
I’m the freak that she’ll seek to make her weak from dusk til dawn
Yeah, I got what I got and man, you got none
So take your best shot, punk, and then I’ll drop you like an atom bomb

Yeah, I got what I got, and I’m gonna get it on
I’m the freak that she’ll seek to make her weak from dusk til dawn
Yeah, I got what I got and man, you got none
So take your best shot, punk, and then I’ll drop you like an atom bomb




Plate Tectonic King

Alfred Wegener, what do you know? Universally despised not long ago. Naysayers ideas withered and died, but your ideas made worlds collide,
By comparative analysis of fossil flora and fauna
Pangea, subsequently, Laurasia and Gondwana,
Continental drift, and polar wandering,
Makes you the plate tectonic king

The plate tectonic king

Some of Wegener’s ideas were wrong, like ocean floors which continents plowed along
He couldn’t explain how the continents moved, and so his theories were ignored or disproved
But new evidence provided by paleomagnetism, rock matches on each side of the Atlantic schism, along with new theories, like sea floor spreading,
Makes you the plate tectonic king

The plate tectonic king

Ridge push, slab pull, convection in the lithosphere, magnetic reversals and anomalies, divergent, convergent, and transform boundaries, ocean drilling and satellite photos seem pretty clear

That convection currents in the mantle rock, bring the hot mantle up to the top.
Mid-oceanic ridges are caused by rising flow, ocean trenches plunge the cold rock below
The distribution of volcanoes and earthquakes explained, mantle plumes and Hotspots raising islands in long chains, the theory of plate tectonics remains especially appealing,
Which makes you the plate tectonic king

The plate tectonic king
The plate tectonic king
Alfred Wegener, what do you know?
The plate tectonic king
Alfred Wegener, what do you know?
The plate tectonic king




I Saw Jared

I saw Jared walkin’ down the hall, big man on campus he was walkin’ tall
Jared’s been around he knows a thing or two about walkin’ in another person’s shoes

I saw Jared, I saw Jared, I saw Jared, and he helped me see things through
I saw Jared, I saw Jared, I saw Jared, and if you look you’ll see him too

A G-man from back on the block, Jared walks the walk while others talk the talk
He loves his family and he loves his school, tries to do no wrong, keeps the golden rule

I saw Jared, I saw Jared, I saw Jared, and he helped me see things through
I saw Jared, I saw Jared, I saw Jared, and if you look you’ll see him too

break

He knows this campus like the back of his hand, through the valley of the shadow he fears no man, seeking his reward in the Promised Land, hold his feet to the fire and he might get a tan

If you see Jared, you should call his name, he’s a friend to all he treats all the same.
If you feel like you’re carrying a heavy load, you just walked a block down Jared’s road.


I saw Jared, I saw Jared, I saw Jared, and he helped me see things through
I saw Jared, I saw Jared, I saw Jared, and if you look you’ll see him too
I saw Jared, I saw Jared, I saw Jared, and he helped me see things through
I saw Jared, I saw Jared, I saw Jared, and if you look you’ll see him too




It Could Have Been Worse

In the 21st Century people live in harmony
Free from gravity and economic calamity
‘Least that’s what the futurists dreamed in 1953
But in 2008 things don’t seem so great
Throwing everything away here this morning and gone today

But it could have been worse
Yes, it could have been worse
Well, it could have been worse,
Of course it could have been….

Glass cities floating in the sky, cold fusion powered apple pie
Living with instead of against, all of Nature’s consequence
But when we made ourselves to be Masters of everything we see
We screwed the pooch and in a mighty flash, spaceship Earth is gonna crash
More effective than a bomb, we consume until it’s gone

But it could have been worse
Yes, it could have been worse
Well, it could have been worse,
Of course it could have been….

solo

Here comes global climate change mass extinctions on its way

But it could have been worse
Yes, it could have been worse
Well, it could have been worse,
Of course it could have been….




It Got Worse

It got worse, before it got better but it got better, eventually
And if it gets worse again, it will probably get better again,
And if it doesn’t well there’s never any guarantee.

Living every moment afraid, I don’t feel like a man anymore
If you gave me a shovel and called it a grave,
At least I’d know why I was down in this hole

It got worse, before it got better but it got better, eventually
And if it gets worse again, it will probably get better again,
And if it doesn’t well there’s never any guarantee.

Once I get past a certain point, I’d rather be dead than feel the way I feel
Unfurl the shroud and with oil anoint
Roll the stone so the tomb is sealed

Sometimes it’s alright, when I’m self indulgent and petrified
To feel lonely, but never alone
Cuz I remember who is by my side.

break

They say that it’s darkest before the dawn, that’s like saying you live as your last breath’s drawn
If you live like every day might be your last, then no matter what dawn comes too fast

Sometimes it’s alright, when I’m self indulgent and petrified
To feel lonely, but never alone
Cuz I remember who is by my side.

Sometimes it’s alright, when I’m self indulgent and petrified
To feel lonely, but never alone
Cuz I remember who is by my side.

Sometimes it’s alright

To feel lonely, but never alone




Possessed

Oh baby, it’s time to exorcise your demons
Bottled up inside only one way to free them
So baby, lay down and take off your clothes
And we’ll loose those bounds make you lose control

And when you feel me comin’ in, then you’ll feel them comin’ out
And when you feel me come again, it’ll make you want to shout, say

Yeah! Say yeah! Say yeah! Say yeah!

You never know when those demons might rise
If they infest you again, and possess your thighs
You know I got the cure when you’ve got the itch
You can rest assured when you feel that twitch

And when you feel me comin’ in, then you’ll feel them comin’ out
And when you feel me come again, it’ll make you want to shout, say

Yeah! Say yeah! Say yeah! Say yeah!

I rebuke you in the name of Jesus. Be healed. Praise God!

Let loose your cries, let me hear your pleas
Reaching to the skies, from your bended knees
When it’s feeling strong, but your feeling weak,
Girl it won’t take long, to turn your other cheek

And when you feel me comin’ in, then you’ll feel them comin’ out
And when you feel me come again, it’ll make you want to shout, say

Yeah! Say yeah! Say yeah! Say yeah!




You Call My Name

You call my name---you call my name
A moth to a flame can’t explain
The spiral in, out of control
Yet predictable, how it all ends

Blinded, burned, battered, bruised,
Bound by the Devil’s tongue
What else do I have to lose?
Everything, it’s just begun.

I’ve seen this road, been down it before
Never want it no more, cuz I know where it goes
Even though I swore, I’d never see it again
Yet here I am where the road ends

Shackled, shorn, shattered, shamed
I’ve go no one else to blame
Once you hear the siren’s call
Nothing ever sounds the same

I’m so low
I’m so low
I’m so low
I’m so low

You call my name
And I reply
You call my name
Even though I tgry
You call my name
To resist your cry
You call my name
You are not denied
You call my name
You call my name
You call my name
You call my name

Blinded, burned, battered, bruised,
Bound by the Devil’s tongue
What else do I have to lose?
Everything, it’s just begun.
Shackled, shorn, shattered, shamed
I’ve go no one else to blame
Once you hear the siren’s call
Nothing ever sounds the same

You call my name
You call my name
You call my name
You call my name
You call my name
You call my name




The Ballad Of Theo And Marian

She’s from Toronto, by way of Ghana, when she was eight she had to leave her mama
He’s from the southland, from Tennessee, he was adopted as a baby
She grew up right, she grew up strong, sings like an angel, runs all day long
He dearly loved his family, when old enough served in the Navy

And if you were there when they met, then you’d a heard me say:
The way they fight it must be love, he’s gonna marry her someday

When they first met at work, she thought he was a jerk
She ran track at SIU, he tipped back a beer or two
She had like four degrees, he liked to cut the cheese
She liked to sing at church, he played Xbox after work

And, oh yeah, there was this other thing among the differences that I found
Something night and day, so obvious you’d see if you were around
Something about color, that always seemed to hound
I think it was their eyes see his were blue and hers were brown.

And if you were there then you’d have seen their fire become a light
and I said, “Now’s your chance, ‘fore it’s too late, you better marry that girl tonight!”

So here we stand to witness in, their bond of marriage, Theo and Marian
In sickness and in health, in poverty, or in wealth
So raise your glass, and make your toast,
Bestow your gifts, honor them the most
We wish you many years of happiness, may your union be forever blest

And for all time, should anyone consider or wonder:
What God consecrated, let no man ever sunder




The Simple Pleasures

So you say you like to live on the edge
Your margin for error is pretty thin
What are you compensating for?
What childhood void still needs filled in?
Why do you nearly die, before you feel alive?
Why are you in the mess you’re in?

You swam the raging rivers
Crossed the Great Divide
Camped on the side of an erupting volcano
Climbed the highest mountainside
And even though the air is rarified up there
Our living’s done down here below

Earth’s greatest treasures
The simple pleasures

Like how you feel the first time your baby laughs
Or how you feel everytime he cries
Finding an insect on a blade of grass
You’ve never seen before even though you’ve looked a thousand times
Smelling coffee, eating toffee
With every breath you’re glad to be alive

Earth’s greatest treasures
The simple pleasures

solo


Earth’s greatest treasures
The simple pleasures

Earth’s greatest treasures
The simple pleasures

Earth’s greatest treasures
The simple pleasures




All I Want For Christmas Is A Whole Lotta Cash

All I want for Christmas is a whole lotta cash
That’s what I want, so give it to me, man,
And if you don’t, I’ll take it if I can
And if you think, that sounds a little selfish,
Then kiss my ass, cuz this is my wish,

But,

I’d settle for less, like love and human kindness
But I won’t get that shit, cuz the world’s a mess
So, instead I’ll pray, that God will come down and say
That “I gave you all one chance, and now you’re going away.”

All I want for Christmas is a whole lotta cash
To be an Indy when there is a terrible crash
200 horny women, and no itchy rash
To smoke a bowl with all my friends who dipped into my stash
All I want for Christmas is a whole lotta cash,

But,

I’d settle for less, like love and human kindness
But I won’t get that shit, cuz the world’s a mess
So, instead I’ll pray, that God will come down and say
That “I gave you all one chance, and now you’re going away.”

My holiday spirit, don’t want to get near it
My Merry Christmas just can’t resist this
Like Mary Typhoid’s sickness, I’m

Infected, I’m infected, to tell the truth about today I been
Selected, I been selected, and if you listen very long you’ll feel
Corrected, you’ll fell corrected, what do you mean my mastercard has been
Rejected? Let me inspect it. Maybe the magnetic strip has been
Affected. Ahh yes, American Express, Express, will end my
Distress, distress, so I can buy some useless shit, cuz I
Need some, yeah I need some, well now pity that poor fucker, he ain’t
Getting’ none, he ain’t getting’ none, now it’s time for Dave to play
Cuz this song is done, cuz this song is done, oh yeah!




You Didn’t Know

You didn’t know
You didn’t know
It was the last day that you would see me, cuz I had to go
If there’d been another way, believe me, that’s the way I would have chose

You didn’t know
You didn’t know
When I shut the door behind me that moment was our last
The game was over months beforehand, when the final die were cast

You didn’t know
You didn’t know

break
solo

You didn’t know
You didn’t know
Even though I held your hands in my hands, ignorance isn’t bliss
Good-bye this morning meant forever, betrayed by a kiss

You didn’t know
You didn’t know
You didn’t know
You didn’t know
You didn’t know
You didn’t know

October, 2007

October marks the wife's birthday. She is really good about letting DNA spend hours in front of the computer instead of raising our kids. Thanks, Lala.

Permanent Historical Record: 10/01/07

Free Suresh!

Last month DNA introduced you to Tanya and Rick, who are in the middle of a stalled adoption. You remember them, right? Young doctors in love.

DNA asked you all for a favor: to take a letter, copy it, and send it to your state senators and representative. Simple. Some of you did that, for which DNA is glad. DNA promised to give a copy of the new DNA Vibrators CD to anyone who CC'd their emails to DNA at pugh@shawneelink.net.

Below is the letter DNA asked you to cut and paste into your email browser. If you already have done this, great, thanks, your CD is on the way, and you can skip down past the letter (it's in red). The easiest way to get the email addresses of your congressmen is to go to here for your senator's webpage or to go here for your representative.



Your address

Today's Date

Your representative or important person’s address

Dear ,

I am writing this letter with the hope that you can assist with the stalled adoption of a Nepalese child named Suresh to caring parents that are in need of help.

Over two years ago, our close friends, Rick Navitsky and Tanya Leinicke, began a long journey towards adopting a Nepali child. Tanya had just completed a decorated tour of duty in Iraq with the United States Air Force. She was awarded a Meritorious Service Medal upon her separation from the military. It was time for them to start a family. Rick had served in the Peace Corps in remote Nepal from 1990-1993. He not only speaks and writes Nepali but has a profound appreciation for their customs and culture. They both felt it was their calling to adopt a child and it was only natural that they chose Nepal for their adoption.

In January they received a referral from their adoption agency, Adopt International. They immediately traveled to Nepal to meet their son, Suresh. Suresh is a happy, healthy, wonderful child who has melted all of our hearts. We are all anxious for him to join not only the family of Rick and Tanya but also our wider community of family and friends.

In May, Nepal released an official statement that all international adoptions had been placed on hold. The Ministry of Women and Children’s Welfare had plans to reform the adoption process. Unfortunately four hundred families from across the world, many from the United States, had already met their children and were caught in the middle. They are not only unable to bring their children home, but also find that obtaining information on the process is nearly impossible. They have no where to turn for help.

As you may know, Nepal is in a state of political turmoil. The Maoist uprising and the decay of their monarchy has led to a great deal of economic distress and violence. Orphans are by no means immune to their country’s distress. Every new day brings more children for the orphanages to feed. The orphanages desperately need adoptions to start again. The influx of parents from Europe and the United States brings hope of a new life for these orphans who would otherwise be left without families, education, or hope for a future.

Tanya and Rick will provide a wonderful, loving home for Suresh if they can only get him home. In the meantime, they are traveling to Nepal frequently to visit him. They are both practicing physicians in Alaska. Their forced absence for these travels is not only causing them a great deal of strife but must also be affecting the healthcare of their community at large.

I am hoping that through your knowledge and influence you can forward my concerns to the appropriate person. Perhaps your efforts and concern will help to bring not only Suresh home to Rick and Tanya but may also bring children home to the over four hundred families that are waiting. Please feel free to contact myself or Rick and Tanya with any questions. Your attention and assistance is greatly appreciated.

Sincerely,

(Put Your Name Here)

Rick Navitsky, MD, FACEP Medical Director, Emergency Dept. Alaska Emergency Medicine Associates Providence Alaska Medical Center rnavitsky@provak.org (907)301-7223

Tanya Leinicke, MD, FACEP Alaska Emergency Medicine Associates Providence Alaska Medical Center; Adjunct Assistant Professor WWAMI Biomedical Program, UAA; Clinical Assistant Professor Department of Medicine, University of Washington School of Medicine tleinicke@salud.unm.edu (907)301-7222

Rick Navitsky and Tanya Leinicke 3970 Defiance Street. Anchorage, AK 99504 (907)222-6235

Help them out if you can. Suresh is a great little kid.

Now, what does this have to do with music, you might ask? Plenty. Probably the best part about playing out was every once in awhile, DNA would play a benefit to raise money and awareness for a cause---The Arthritis Foundation, the Women's Center, 611 Pizza, The American Cancer Society, Breast Cancer Awareness, for the Lion's Club, for the Knights of Columbus, for several school districts, for D.A.R.E., for individuals with illnesses, and many, many other worthwhile causes. DNA can't think of any other way he could have been involved in so many positive community events. More than just a soundtrack for booze-fueled road trips, music is also a vehicle for change, which is really what this website has until now, facetiously claimed as its purpose. Do you think the monks in Burma are getting gunned down and beaten in silence? Hell no. Whether it is in their minds, hearts, or on their lips, their music keeps them sane, gives them strength, and allows them to survive the regime under which they live.

The ancient Greeks (read Pythogoras)believed that there was a harmony in the heavens, which related mathematics, "perfect" shapes, the proportions of the movements of heavenly bodies and the repeating geometry of the octave in what was called "the music of the spheres." More poetically, theologians might have called this "music" the voice of God. This is figurative stuff, but literally, as DNA has argued before, music inspires. From the simple "Happy Birthday" sung to DNA's wife today, to Lennon singing "give peace a chance," sometimes one song can make a difference in someone's life. Write your congressman. Sing "Freedom!" (by Rare Earth). Look it up. You might like it. Free Suresh!

Permanent Historical Record: 10/03/07

So What!

A couple of days ago, DNA wrote, "Sing "Freedom!" (by Rare Earth). Look it up. You might like it." Some of you looked it up. Some of you said DNA was full of shit. Rare Earth did lots of cool songs, stood out from the crowd by being one of the only white bands on Motown, and did more than just "covers" of songs written by black artists...they reinvented them, and if possible, made them funkier, groovier, and more hard rock all at the same time. But nowhere could you find them doing a song called "Freedom."

See, DNA has this memory. It comes from way, way, back, when the tool was maybe 6 years old, when his brother and sister wasn't around, and he would play their records on the old console record player. One of his brothers was into what DNA guesses you would call "acid" rock, and had stuff like Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, Neil Young and Crazy Horse, shit like that. He kept his records from grubby little hands. But his sister, she had some soul, and lots of accessible 45's, like Rare Earth's "Hey, Big Brother." In fact, "Hey Big Brother" was listened to by the up-and-coming lil DNA several hundred times. And, when DNA looked back upon that memory, two days ago, he remembered listening to another song right after "Hey Big Brother." That song was...well, it went like, aw shit, it had to be the B-side of the Rare Earth song...or was it another record? Well, it had the word "Freedom" in the title, DNA remembers that for damn sure. DNA stared at that record countless times. But DNA also remembered the Rare Earth logo, (very cool, like the 'keep on truckin' tee shirt graphic from the 70's)

and thought for sure the Rare Earth logo was on the record with the word "Freedom" in the title. Armed with that information, it should be easy to find the song DNA was thinking of. Right?

So, without the actual facts, DNA just spouted off that the song was by Rare Earth.

It's not. DNA knows because he talked to the guys in the band. Hold up, let that sink in for a second. The internet is that awesome. Between two days ago and now, to fill the gap that was DNA's faulty memory, DNA looked through hundreds of web pages of information, and eventually talked to different members of the band through different web sites , and found that Rare Earth did not do a song called "Freedom." That conversation went something like this:

DNA: Are you sure you didn't do a song called "Freedom?"

Dude from Rare Earth: Yeah, I'm pretty sure.

DNA: It was a long time ago. You may have been, I don't know...(trying to be delicate about the state of mind the band might have been in)

Dude from Rare Earth: No.

DNA: You see, I remember this song, I remember flipping to the B-side of "Big Brother" and, do you want me to sing it, it goes like this...

{click}

DNA: duh--nuh. Dun nuh na nuh, duh nanuhna nuh na nuh na nuh nuh nuh

Instead of looking all over the internet, the facts DNA needed....were right where he should have looked to begin with.

Do you know how many songs there are with the word "Freedom" in the title? DNA does. 4991. DNA listened to a lot of them. DNA computed how long he would have to listen to randomly hit the song he was looking for. A couple of birthdays would come and go.

When DNA got home from work today, he did the right thing. He called his sister, and gave her the story, and then before he said anything about the lyrics or song title, he sung the melody of the song. After about 10 seconds, Sis said, "Oh, that's 'Mother Freedom'" in the way DNA should have been able to remember the song, had it not been gnawing away at his brain like a flesh-eating amoeba gnawing away at his brain.

So, the song is "Mother Freedom," by BREAD. Yes, BREAD. It rocks. And has a cool message, and was the coolest thing BREAD did next to getting sliced. Don't wrinkle your nose up like somebody just made you listen to
Christopher Cross. BREAD was actually good. In fact, if you check out BREAD , you will be surprised how many of their songs are part of your subconscious music culture. BREAD is insidious, and in that respect, very much a model for DNA. Seem innocuous, be virulent. Hey, that's DNA's new catchphrase. Seem innocuous. Be virulent. DNA has officially copywritten that phrase. But if you're DNA's friend, you can use it for free. Just credit the source.

Lastly, about the title of this post: So What! So DNA was wrong about his memory. DNA likes to think he was wrong on purpose so that he could embark on this odyssey of musical rediscovery with all of you. You're welcome.

Permanent Historical Record: 10/10/07

A New Book, A New Chapter...

October is the month DNA travels for his real job, flies all over the country and prepares potential college students and parents for what they might face in their futures. It's not as depressing as it sounds. In blogs past, DNA has delved into such topics as bad seat assignments on flights, if you're the one stuck next to the fundamentalist on the plane, guys with cell phones stuck in their ears (and their heads up their asses), delays, and in general, the idiocy you must endure to travel in glorified busses with wings. In fact, the bus industry needs to learn a thing or two from airlines and rail-lines...bus-lines need to serve alcohol to their patrons, too.

One very positive aspect of flying, though, is that DNA gets to catch up on any reading that has been waiting, or to "take a chance" on a new or interesting looking book. It so happened that DNA found a book that addressed the memory creation problem DNA had from last post, and described "Why People Believe Weird Things." This is an old book, been around about 10 years, but is newly revised and expanded. Michael Shermer is the author and professional skeptic who guides the reader through a series of pseudo-scientific and pseudo-historical "theories." Best of all, he tries to follow two basic premises: Hume's Maxim and Spinoza's Dictum. To quote, they are, respectively:

"The plain consequence is (and it is a general maxim worthy of our attention), 'that no testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle, unless the testimony be of such a kind, that its falsehood would be more miraculous than the fact which it endeavors to establish.'"

and

"I have made a ceaseless effort not to ridicule, not be bewail, not to scorn human actions, but to understand them."

Okay, DNA has fallen a little short on the second rule to live by. Ridiculing, bewailing, scorning without understanding has been the cornerstone of this blog from day 1, (and about 99% of all internet writing). That's one of the reasons people write on the internet, so they can spout off about shit in as virulent a way as they possibly can, anonymously, and therefore, without fear of retribution, from not just a smarter reader, but an angrier or more unstable reader who was offended. On the internet, it is easy to say, "joke 'em if they can't take a fuck."

If you object to something DNA writes, good for you. You may write DNA back. DNA has balls, so if it was worthy, he would print what you say. But unless you point out something worth talking about, you'll either be ignored or fucked with. And since this is DNA's house, in the end, even if you are smarter, funnier, meaner, tougher, or anything-er, you don't pay the bill to run this website, and DNA can shut you down. Sucks, yes it does, buy this is why so many people write pointless shit like this on the internet. Because they can.

It reminds DNA of Alexander Pope, the dwarven poet laureate of England. He bewailed the introduction of the printing press, because it meant that the uneducated (to his standard) masses would have the means at their disposal to print books, low, base, immoral books, written by common folk with less of a grip on the language than they normally have on their own genitals (DNA is paraphrasing Pope here; Pope actually wrote something more like this: "like cattle, herded by a mad dictator, their words flow like the seed of a chronic masurbator.") Okay, Pope didn't write that, but Pope did write heroic couplet, probably better than anybody else ever has---read "The Rape Of The Lock" and you will be convinced. Oh, and he did this little thing, a translation of the Iliad, and is famous for quotes like "To err is human, to forgive Divine" and shit like that. Yeah, DNA thinks most pop song writers owe Pope a debt for making people amenable to the AA BB CC DD rhyme scheme. Of course, in the wrong hands, (think Nickleback, or Ratt, or almost all of pop radio) it can become some pretty bad sing-songy shit.

Back to the book, "Why People Believe Weird Things." The first maxim is so self-evident to most people, we would feel confident that we don't make mistakes in believing in weird or pretty fucked up shit. Unfortunately, we all harbor some beliefs that simply are not supported by facts or are even contradicted by verifiable facts. The other night, DNA was watching the Bill Maher show on HBO (at the hotel room DNA was staying at. DNA can't afford actual HBO in his house---remember he is one of you, the little people). Mos Def was on it, and making good sense about a particular topic, when he said, "I don't believe in the Al Quaida boogeyman, but then again, I don't believe in the moon landing, either." At which point, Bill Maher, and DNA, and almost everybody in the audience, tuned him out. Smart, relevant people believe in fucked up things. This was the most interesting part of the book. Smart people, people who have the capacity to understand that hillbilly shit is bogus, still believe hillbilly shit. In fact, the smarter you are, the more likely you will be to keep your opinion and belief, even if it is wrong, and the less likely you will be moved to change your opinion, even in the face of mounting evidence, and the better you can argue your position so that even if someone else can refute you, you still might win the battle if you can make them look stupid.

What DNA has experienced recently is the fallibility of memory, and our ability to "recreate" events that fit what we remember or think we remember. This is why DNA would have sworn the song "Mother Freedom" was by Rare Earth when it was actually by Bread.

On a more serious note, this is also why dickfors like Iran's president can hold well-attended conferences on Holocaust revision, why some state school boards still will agree to teach creationism, or its seemingly less malevolent skin, intelligent design, why some believe in alien abduction, in psychics, etc. DNA is as guilty of believing in crackpot conspiracies as the next anonymous internet presence.

So, DNA's 11 year old son got a hold of the book, and started reading it. He's a pretty smart kid. Pretty soon, he asked about certain psychics, like Uri Gellar. "Wasn't he tested?" "Didn't he do stuff like bend spoons and make stuff under glass move?" At which point, the newly schooled skeptic in DNA employed Hume's maxim: "Son, if indeed he had powers like that, don't you think he would have developed them to do some real good in the world, like maybe psychically "lead" medicines directly to cancer in a person's body, or mentally guide metal stints to exactly the right place in a heart attack victim's body? If he was truly gifted, and wanted to show the world, wouldn't that be the way to do it? And, since he is not doing anything except parlor tricks with his "ability," then we should doubt his ability is anything more than a trick. The burden of proof is on him, not me, to prove his ability."

Now, to the second rule to live by, the one about not ridiculing, and all that shit. That is actually worth living by as well. Every flame war on the internet, every piece of bad criticism out here, every bit of rancorous diatribe which passes for spirited debate, would go away if we followed that rule. There's a place for fun and games, but if you are really trying to understand something, personally attacking an author or an opinion actually gives strength and ammunition back to the originator. Also, the more you hammer on someone, the more shrill, amateurish, and frankly, stupid, you sound, particularly if the person you attack can keep their cool, and continue to point out any flaws in logic you make. But that would be like throwing the pearls before the swine. Pigs like DNA root in shit. It is our natural habitat. It is why some folks don't "dig on swine." Other folks don't mind getting dirty.

DNA will try to follow a new book and chapter in its life: Be more skeptical of the inane shit he sometimes believes, and try not to be mean when DNA points out how fucked up bulk emailers are.

What book have you read from Oprah's Book Club? Tell DNA here.

Permanent Historical Record: 10/17/07

100 Looks...

In record time, there were over 100 hits on the CD Baby page for "The Result Of Continuous Exposure To Radiation" for which I can only say, "Thanks. Now go buy the fucker." Also, DNA has had the pleasure of giving several copies of the new record away as people joined in the "Free Suresh" campaign.

It received a very favorable review from the locals, and will soon be a major motion picture, starring Bruce Willis.

DNA is pleased to be able to use this bully pulpit to announce that his boys in the band Nonagon are close to finishing their studio debut. It rocks. Reminiscent of Fugazi and Jawbox, it's chock full sterling musicianship, powerful vocals, interesting and driving bass, and drums. Okay, just fucking with you, Mr. Kamikaze, drums that lead, drums that drive, drums that beat you into submission, all done with natural ease which belies the intrinsic difficulty of making a three piece sound so much larger than a three piece without being too busy. How about that for a (p)review. As soon as it is available, DNA will let you know.

DNA, the family, Mr. Kamikaze, his family, Mike, Susan, and Molly, we all went camping this last weekend. Besides making inappropriate dick jokes when the kids were off playing, we validated our utter geekiness by recalling our fondest Dungeons and Dragons moments from when we were in college. At least we were recalling these fond moments over a roaring fire while drinking. While we were camping, DNA was able to coerce a promise from Mr. Kamikaze that indeed the DNA Vibrators will play again. We will probably not be able to get it in gear until this Spring. DNA will keep you posted.

DNA registered for classes for the first time since 1995. He is officially enrolled for the Spring. Does anyone out there know how to do inferential statistics?

Permanent Historical Record: 10/27/07

October Parties...

Carbondale is known for October parties. From the 1970’s through the early ‘90’s, Carbondale was infamous for its Halloween Celebration. At its height, about 20,000 of our closest friends would descend on Carbondale (a town of about 25,000), Along with about 20,000 students, on every Halloween, there occurred a convergence of humanity in Carbondale which felt like Mardi Gras (in fact, it was sometimes referred to as “little Mardi Gras”) but without all of the social responsibility normally found at Mardi Gras.

Through bad management, a deteriorating city-university relationship, and generally unrestrained idiocy on the part of the party-people, the event was shut down. Over the years, there were mass arrests, thousands in property damage, burned and overturned cars, unrestrained violence---y’know, fun. People attempted to “take the Strip,” (a stretch of downtown near the university filled with shops and bars) for many years after the celebration was officially “over,” some years more successfully than others, but eventually, only a ghost of this Halloween celebration remained.

Long before the event was shut down, getting drunk in a throng of anonymous bodies had lost its appeal to DNA. For most of his time in Carbondale, DNA either played shows on Halloween, stayed home, or attended house parties. As the fervor over Halloween died down, DNA was reminded what was great about this town: Not its notorious claim to fame, but the regular atmosphere every weekend. If you wanted to go to a party, you could, but more importantly, if you wanted to see a band or play out, you could.

Some of the best shows DNA can remember happened in October. DNA thinks this is because, in Carbondale, it is still warm enough in October to run around in shorts during the day, but cool enough that a few shots of hard liquor are needed to warm you up at night.

DNA will set the stage for one of the better parties he can remember. It was late in October, 1994, at a house on Oakland (for those of you current or former Salukis who know where that is). The house was a Henry house. Henry Fisher owned home Rentals Corp., and was a fairly despicable slum lord. He was convicted and jailed not long ago for a sex crime against a minor. Everyone who lived in rental housing (and in a college town, that’s a lot of people) knew that being in a Henry house meant something. It meant years later, you would look back on your experience in one, and be proud you simply survived. You felt like you cheated death, or tempted fate, and only by the brass content of your balls did you pass through the gauntlet unscathed.

So, it was a Henry house: two stories, four bedroom, eight people living there, full basement, (excavated after the house was built). The basement was exactly tall enough that if you were taller than DNA, you would hit your head on the floor joists of the first floor. DNA is about 5’8” of awesome, if you didn’t know.

It was raining most of the evening, a light mist which you could ignore for a few minutes, but would result in a soaking down to your skin before you realized it. People were mulling about, spending as much time outside as in, despite the cold and messy weather. CRANK, DNA’s band at that time, was scheduled to play. We were the only entertainment for the night, so we had better fucking rock. DNA heard several folks say things to that effect, coupled with vague acknowledgements that we were a loud band, which was as close to a compliment as we normally got. DNA felt that often, that he was not “hip,” or “cool,” like it looked like the other guys in the band were, or how other bands in town were. DNA had no other purpose than to rock, and gave two shits whether he pleased anybody else, so DNA supposes, the feeling of mutual disdain, if it existed anywhere outside of his own head, was mutual. This is the paradox of a working band, however. DNA played like he was the only bassist in town, and all the people there were pissing all over his personal playing time, but he really did want everybody to dig what we were doing.

Enough of DNA’s insecurities. We packed our stuff in, and set up on the short wall of a rectangular basement. Drop cords hung like spider webs, and a nasty hum, probably from the neon on the same circuit as us buzzed through every instrument. At the time, DNA packed a home-built 18” cabinet, and two 2-10” cabinets, through a 2400 watt bi-amped rig. H.O.G. played through a 200 watt Ampeg head and a Marshall half-stack, while the Reverend played through Peavey’s rendition of a Fender Twin. As usual for a basement party, the drums weren't miked, and as usual for Ralph, they didn't need to be. The house supplied the P.A. which actually was pretty loud. Loud was the word for the show. Brutal. Everything in that basement bounced around and pummeled anyone without earplugs into tapioca. As we started the show, everything clicked. That doesn’t always happen. Sometimes, even during a good show, the special moment, whatever it might be, doesn’t occur. But that night, right away, it did. The basement was packed, shoulder to shoulder, the cool air countered by body heat. Literally, steam hung in the air from from the rain and from the people. The bodies close to the speakers soaked up the sound pressure like worms in tequila, while the folks in the back of the room undulated like the tail end of that worm right before it was pickled.

The Reverend had his rock and roll ON, and was doing everything a guitar slinging front man should do: boring holes of lust with his eyes through anyone who would look at him; exuding confidence and sexuality that came with overt symbolism of his powerful guitar; spooging right in the eyes of all the girls in the room while they asked him for his autograph (okay, that last part was a slight exaggeration---there were no autographs); in other words, he was every bit the rock deity he had the right to be. As we began the song, “Motivation,” DNA knew things were good, because as two notes a half-step off are held at the beginning of the song, if the bass is good, meaning, it would make your stomach upset, then the distortion caused by those two notes (an “e” and an “e-flat”) would cause his pant legs to flap against his legs, and cause window glass to visibly shake. The pants were flapping, and the glass was shaking, “my mind was ache-ing, and we were faking it YOU---SHOOK ME ALL NIGHT LONG!” That’s what ACDC was talking about in that song, not fucking.

Several songs into the set, we started a song called “Staring.” “Staring” has a certain cadence to which it is easy to bounce up and down to, or to stomp your feet to. About a minute into it, right in the middle of the basement floor, as DNA watched in surprise, a large section of the crowd dropped out of sight. Yes, dropped out of sight.The concrete floor gave way beneath them and opened up into a sinkhole about 15 feet in diameter. The people who fell only dropped about a foot down or so, but, the issue isn’t how far they fell. The issue is THAT THEY FELL THROUGH A FUCKING CONCRETE FLOOR!!! Here is the best part---we didn’t stop playing, and nobody left the basement. People just kind acknowledged the fact, reasoned that the rest of the house would have caved in already if it were going to, and kept on dancing.

This incident led to a small amount of notoriety and our own inflated opinion of what we were capable of. “Yeah,” DNA would say later, “So many people were there, the floor caved in,” or “We were so loud we broke the foundation of the house.” For anyone who ever saw CRANK play, though, this was as good a description of our music as any.

We finished the show, and it was clear as people left, it was the lack of adequate drainage close to the foundation of this old house which had, over the course of years, allowed water to leach out soil from underneath a too thin layer of concrete on the floor. The hole itself was a few feet deep in places. For a long time, folks had probably been walking on this shell, not realizing how thin the ice was beneath their feet. It was nice that CRANK broke the ice.

October in Carbondale, and music loud enough to break floors: those things go together like Cap’n Crunch and beer, and remind DNA what is so fun about this town.

Happy Halloween! What Carbondale parties do you remember?

Permanent Historical Record: 10/28/07

Anniversaries...

As is my custom, on this day, on the blog, there is no DNA Vibrator, no Tool, no bullshit. Just me.

On this day, in 2001, my Dad died. My son, Carl, named after my Dad, experienced his first real loss in life, and as gifted as he is, understood the concept of death better than most 5 year-olds should. What tore my heart more than my Dad dying was seeing on my son's face the realization that his grandpa was gone, and nothing, no magic, or faith, or super being, or spell, would change that. Because Dad died right before Halloween, we, the adults, were trying to make our own peace with the dead, while we made a point of celebrating the holiday for the kids. I don't think the irony was lost on any of the them, that we were celebrating a holiday in which the dead come back as we were preparing for the ceremony in which we buried Dad.

I was hit right in the gut by very real and pertinent questions from Carl about heaven and hell, about a person's soul, about what happens when you die. The kind of questions we insulate ourselves from purposely for most of our lives, and the kind of questions which, because we don't want real answers to, we run from quickly when asked. We run behind conventions, we run behind pat phrases, we run behind rituals, we run away from doubt, and in an attempt to wring meaning from a person's death, we run away from fear and into a surreal state which I can't well describe, but which we all have been in. People say things like, "He's in a better place," or "He's enjoying perfect peace, and is whole again in mind and spirit," or "Today is a day to celebrate the love you have for him," among many, many, things, and we accept them as reasonable things to say. They are not.

I believe in God, in much the same way I believe in the universe. I don't think there is a city with streets paved with gold waiting for me somewhere, though. I think it is possible that the idea of spiritual peace is a metaphor that is imperfectly described by earthly wonders, like a golden city, but what is that spiritual peace, really? I don't know. I do know I had to tell my son something, something that would make sense, but not insult his beliefs. I couldn't say things like, "He's in a better place." In fact, saying things like that always reminds me of this one Twilight Zone episode (or one of those shows like the Twilight Zone) in which gramps died and little Timmy decides that since gramps was in a better place, that the best thing he could do was kill everybody else so they could be in a better place, too. Most people choose to stay in this suck-ass hell-hole, given that choice. Makes you wonder, don't it?

I raised Carl to question everything. Why wouldn't he question an unknowable 'fact' about a place called heaven, and if it wasn't like he thought it was, then (I already knew he was thinking this) what would happen to him when he died? There is nothing like the thought of dying and having the event mean nothing more to the universe than just another candle burning out. Before it burned out, there was a little light and heat. Afterwards, nothing but smoke. And if it warmed somebody or lit somebody's path, what did that matter 10,000 years from now? I wish I could tell you that I said something to him which reassured him and made him feel connected in a deeply spiritual way to his grandpa, but I didn't, or couldn't. I told him what I believed. I told him that there is more to the universe than we will ever know, and that what made Dad 'Dad' had passed on, but to where, or in what form, I knew not. I knew that never again in this universe will the same forces align to produce another person like him, and in that way, his place in the book of this universe was written and will always be. Will we ever see that book (my own metaphor for heaven)? I knew not. But that's what I told him.

I think for most people, heaven is like Santa Claus, something you believed in when you were little, when you were willing to believe in things you couldn't see, or things that violated the laws you learn which govern the world. As you get older, you no longer believe in the actuality of Santa Claus, because facts contradict it, but are still willing to believe in the idea of Santa Claus. At some point, you may no longer believe in the idea. Belief powers the thing. If a person believes it, it exists. If a person doesn't, it doesn't. Any objective "reality" is further removed from us than heaven ever will be. That in itself is a comfort that I hope Carl will understand one day. He probably already does.

I didn't intentionally plan it, (or at least I didn't consciously plan it) but tonight I watched the opener of Season Six of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, in which the Scooby Gang performs a spell to bring Buffy back from the dead. Today, while I did yard work all day long, I thought to myself, "I wonder if Dad felt like I'm feeling, today, thinking about his own Dad while he slogged through the mundane events of his life?" When I sat down outside and rested, enjoying the smell of the grill, and dinner cooking, I wondered if Dad felt like this those times when I would watch him relax on the old wooden bench swing we had installed in the front yard many years ago, just feeling the air, with a tinge of the North in it. My daughter Maggie, who is six, seven this December, came up to me, and asked me what I was doing, and in that moment, I knew she was looking at me the way I looked at my Dad when I was a kid---like he was invincible, like he was the best, like he was there just for me, and that I was happy just to be there looking at him. If I have ever done anything right in this world, I have to say it was evident in her smile to me, while I sat, thinking about what I hoped my Dad thought about me when I looked at him with six year-old eyes. Perhaps I learned enough from him while he was here to get some things right.

Six years is a long time. Six years is an instant. All it has taken for me to erase six years is a few paragraphs. But not quite six years. Five years and 364 days. No matter how often I recall the 36 years previous to his death, he is still dead. And that was six years ago today.

Tonight it is late, and I have a very important story to tell about what happened to me immediately after my Dad died, which will have to wait when I have some time to tell it right. So, tonight, dear reader, if you are still with me, instead of clicking back through a link, I am going to present what I wrote last year on the fifth anniversary of my Dad's passing.

On the Anniversary of the Death of My Father

No tool...no DNA Vibrator...just me. Five years ago, on October 28th, my Dad died. He was strong, and really, my siblings and I had convinced ourselves that nothing could kill Him. He would go when he was damn good and ready, on his own terms. At 76, he still had a strong heart, and a sound mind. We thought that Dad was going to be like one of those old Indian chiefs you romanticize about as a kid, who lives and leads his people well into his old age, and in the time and place of his own choosing, is allowed to die gracefully, becoming one with nature. Or, like Beowulf, he completes one last great task, and lives forever in song because of his deeds.

But, this was not the case with my Dad. Early in the last year of his life, he began to act erratically. He was taken by fits of anger, and found that little bits of memory were slipping away from him. At times, he appeared to have small seizures. After these symptoms became more noticeable, he finally went to the doctor. It was early June when he was diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor. A biopsy revealed that it was malignant. It was also large and spreading. Given his age, doctors recommended against surgery as an option. So, specialized chemotherapy and radiation were used. Although the treatments succeeded in shrinking the tumor, too much damage had already been done to the brain, and in the end, they didn't stop the tumor. It is possible the therapies had some positive effects, but it was difficult to tell, because the person who was there at the end was certainly not the same as the one who was there in June.

I could go into all kinds of detail about how hard it was to watch my Dad disintegrate before me, and I mean "dis-integrate," as in "no longer integrated," but that wouldn't really get you to feel what I am talking about. There are a couple of stories I could tell, however, from one of the last times that I saw him alive.

It was September 11th, 2001. I had taken several days off from work so that I could help my brother and sister take care of my Dad, who had grown irrational and more belligerant than ever. As I watched the replay of the World Trade Center towers falling all day, I couldn't help but think that a terrorist attack, or even an all out war against the United States, would be a welcome distraction; I could wrap my mind around an external threat so much better than I could the one that sat inside his head. I found myself thinking that if the world were ending now, that at least Dad wasn't going to be here to see it. Or if he were still here in the weeks and months to come, he wouldn't know or care what was going on, anyway.

What else happened that day? Well, the local gas station immediately tripled the price of the gas it was selling, the bastards, exemplifying all that is wrong with a culture that puts individual "liberty" above everything else. When things go bad in our country, individual freedom equals a fuck everyone else free-for-all mentality. What was the gas station owner actually thinking? If the world were going to hell, so much so that people would pay any price to get gas for their cars, just what would money be good for? To spend by the thousands to buy an equally price-inflated head of lettuce or can of fucking dog food? When people do not share a sense of civic responsibility, nobody cares if the gouging they do today hurts your grandmother tomorrow. Fuck her, she should have planned ahead.

So, I was glad Dad didn't have to deal with that. In that respect, cancer was a reprieve for him from all of the external stress that was exerted on us as a nation starting on that day. So while the towers repeatedly collapsed, Dad and I took a walk outside. It was a beautiful day. A warm, Indian summer breeze gently shook free the colors of fall, and because all flights were grounded, and few people were doing anything except watching TV, it was preternaturally quiet, a fitting stage for the unreal events which would occur.

We walked slowly around the house, my arm in his arm. As the tumor progressed, it affected his gait somewhat, and he needed an extra hand sometimes for balance. We talked, about nothing in particular, when he stopped short, and became upset. We had just turned the corner and were walking behind the house, when he pointed to the rose of sharon bushes which were in a long row, the dividing line between his property and his neighbor's. "Those shouldn't be blooming." He pointed an accusatory finger at the nearest bush. "It's not spring. It's the fall." He clearly was in this moment, now, and was afraid that an element of what he considered reality was shaken. I imagine it would be similar to waking up tomorrow and seeing two moons in the sky, and wondering why no one else seemed upset by the obvious incongruity with what you know should exist. He turned to me, insistent, almost pleading, "This can't be happening. These don't bloom in the fall. Why are they blooming?" I had no answer, and I actually knew so little about rose of sharon bushes that I couldn't dispute his observation. What if we had some bizarre mutant variety? What if the weird warm spell had confused the plant so that it bloomed a second time? Weirder shit had happened. It was only later that I took the time to read that, of course, the rose of sharon is a late summer, early fall bloomer. It was doing everything it was supposed to, in its own time. However, at the time, I still desperately wanted to believe that it was the world, and not my Dad, that was falling apart.

"I don't know, Dad. Are you sure they are not suppsoed to bloom now?" "What is wrong with you," he snapped. "Of course I know when the hell they are supposed to bloom. Here," he motioned to something to his right, "Call them up and ask what is wrong."

"Excuse me," I said to Dad. "Call them up? Call who...with....what?" We were in our backyard. The nearest phone was in the house. Again, he looked crossly at me. "With the god-damned phone!" He gestured to the same spot, the point at which for him, a phone existed. It was at this moment, that I fully realized that my Dad was going or was already gone, even though his semblance was still walking among us. I can only imagine that from his point of view, the world must have stopped making sense a long time ago, and that little warps in reality were part of his everyday existence. How frightening that must have been, when he could remember it. Sometimes the warps were very disturbing, such as a plant blooming out of season, but sometimes they fit perfectly into his world, such as when a phone would appear out of nowhere when he need to call the powers that be to confirm a question.

Although I understood this, it was still hard to "play" along. At any time, any word I may say, or any thing he might think he has seen or heard, could trigger any kind of response. That really made me uncomfortable. What if facilitating his delusion made his perception spiral into an even more disturbing reality for him? So, I confirmed what he wanted me to do. "You want me to call them and ask them why the plant is blooming?" "Yes," he said confidently, "Call them up." So, I pretended, the way I would have pretended with my toddler-aged son, Carl (named after my Dad) to pick up and dial the phone. I waited for what seemed to be the appropriate time for them to pick up. "Hello, I am calling for Carl XXXX. He was wondering why the bushes in his back yard were blooming. They shouldn't be blooming now." Then, I nodded my head a few times, said, "Oh," or "I see," and finally, "Well, thank you very much. Good bye." Then, I hung the phone up and put it back down. He looked expectantly at me. "Well, what did they say?" he demanded. "Dad, they don't know either. But they said not to worry about it. It probably has to do with the weather."

That solved the problem. At least for Dad. I was unsettled for the rest of the day. It was easy to think about Dad being a changed person, when I was far away, but it was another thing entirely to have to play a part in the delusion of a man whose grip on reality was being loosened by a brain tumor. Did I do right when I "humored" his misperception, or if I would have insisted that there was no phone, woud he have been forced somwhow to "see" there was indeed no phone there? Did either stance matter, because it was unlikely that he would remember what we said or did later that hour, anyway? I think what I did was easier,but I don't know if emotional expediency is the best course of action in times like that.

I stayed and helped the family for several days. As I was leaving, Dad was sitting comfortably in his easy chair, generally in a much calmer state of mind. I had seen him through some good and some bad spells. Frankly, the good spells were the hardest to take, because it was during those brief moments of lucidity that Dad knew there was something fundamentally wrong with him, and he knew he did not have the capacities, mentally and physically, that he once had. In these moments, that strong man would weep, not for what he had become, but for what he could no longer be for his family. Of course, he still was everything and even more than he could have ever imagined for us in those moments, but in those moments of clarity, he only judged himself as a shadow of his former being. How could he see that the courage, and fear, and sadness, and purity, and beauty and frailty that he displayed during those times made us love him even more than we ever had before, so much so that even as his consciousness faded just a few short weeks later, even then, he knew he was loved. He may not have known by whom, but he knew he was loved. Well, that day, as I said good bye to him, for the last time in my life when he could still understand what I was saying to him, he gripped my arm after I hugged him, and as tears were streaming down his face, he said, "You will take care of her, won't you?" 'Her' was my Mom, his wife of 45 years. "Of course," I whispered back to him, because a whisper was all that would come out of my constricted throat. "You don't have to worry about Mom, Dad. Everything is okay. We planned everything out ahead of time. You have taken care of her already." Here was a moment of clarity, punching me right in the gut. And it would have brought me down to my knees, if Dad hadn't then added, "You get the plans. They are in the garage. You promise me you will get the plans, and everything will be alright." The knot in my throat subsided. His tumor induced paranoia altered reality again. I nodded my head to appease that demon, smiled and told him that the plans were safe, and that he didn't neet to worry about them. Again, at that time, I so wanted to believe that Dad wasn't being psychotic, that I later asked Mom to confirm for me that there weren't some plans for some car engine or carbeurator (Dad was very mechanically inclined) that Dad had drawn up. Mom almost looked at me with derision, as if I had to be joking, but then her look softened simply to sadness. "Of course there are no plans, Roger. Of course not."

But there were. At least for a moment, there were. When Dad asked me, somewhere, in the world he lived in, he had the plans, and he needed me to make sure they were used to help his wife and family live well. Whatever it was that he created and drew up in those plans, it was enough to save us all. Maybe I helped save him a little, for that moment, when he looked at me, looked in my eyes, and saw that I was still willing to believe every word he had just said to me, like I was his son, and he was my Dad.

I love you, Dad, and miss you every day.

Remember those who mean something to you. Do something nice for your family today.