MYKEL'S APRIL 2021 BLOG or Side Effects

 You’re STILL Wrong

or
Mykel's

April 2021 Blog/Column

Side Effects

by Mykel Board

With some things we are trying to solve some of the problems that are caused by some of the things with which we are trying to solve some of the problems that are caused by some things. -- Mokokoma Mokhonoana

April is when the world slowly opens up and I have to compromise. People will only come out of their cubby holes, masked, vaxxed, and rubber gloved. Really? I find it hard to believe that image of the typical New York wimp is a “tough New Yorker.” Like other images, I guess, it’s only an image. Few people match the image. Out of a hundred, maybe one. Or fewer. Lot’s of other places have people with balls-- here, you can’t even say that word without some feminist saying Yo! I have more balls than you’ll ever have... and being right about that.

I give up. New York is one of the most diverse cities in the world… yet it’s one of the most conformist. I’ve been to every US state, and 70 other countries. The MOST conformist city in the world is San Francisco. Next may be Stockholm, but Stockholm isn’t nearly as cowardly as New York.

The only way you can actually meet people here... have non-virtual social intercourse... go out to eat… to a bar… to a hotel lobby with Dorothy Parker to talk about the state of the world… is to show your Covid test results or your vaccine certificate… otherwise ewwwww cooties!

Bullied into getting shot, I’m on my way to Duane Reade by Walgreens to get the second poke of the government Pfizer-subsidy program. The first shot was free of side effects, but there are all kinds of reports about nasty reactions to the second. 

I’m inside a little white room next to the drugstore pharmacy section. (You’re too young to remember when drugstores WERE pharmacies.) There’s a chair, a tiny table, a sink, and a garbage pail that has a hand-written sign taped to the top of it.

NO FOOD IN GARBAGE. Thanks

This is clearly to discourage patients from rummaging for lunch. A slightly chubby woman, glasses, stern, smile-less... looking more like a security guard than a nurse... asks me to roll up my sleeve. I take my shirt off.

“I need to see your vaccine card to indicate your second dose,” she tells me. I pull it out of my wallet where it lies right next to my new food stamp card. The unfriendly needle-sticker writes some stuff on it. Then...

She wipes an alcohol swab on my arm and BLAM! ...jabs my shoulder with the pre-loaded needle.

“Have a seat outside for fifteen minutes,” she tells me. “If there are no side effects you can go home.” 

“What if there are side effects AFTER fifteen minutes?” I ask her.

“Then stay, home,” she says… in a serious cop voice, “take Tylenol and drink some tea with lemon.”

“You’re shittin’ me,” I don’t say as I put my shirt back on and go outside to wait for the rest of my hair to fall out. It never occurs to me that there could be side effects other than something horrible

The outside room brightens suddenly, as if someone turned a knob that had been only halfway up.

About 10 minutes into sitting out my 15 minutes, the nurse passes me to talk to another patient. It’s then that I notice her ankles… like a dancer’s… a sheet of muscle pounding between bone and skin… and her calves… like tight black eggplants… begging to be skinned and boiled. And the way they disappear under her white lab coat… begging to be followed… explored… lifted. Those legs will be the most beautiful thing in the world. I knew then that the smile missing from her face could be found between her legs. I feel a stirring between my own legs.

The RN loudly clears her throat, and looks at her watch. “Your fifteen minutes are up,” she says. “You can leave now.”

“Did anyone every tell you,” I don’t say… but think… “that you’re the most beautiful woman in the world?”

Somehow I manage to get myself to the door. I glance back, but the goddess in white is gone. As I leave the store, I can still feel the blood pulsating between my legs.

Outside, a Mexican delivery boy dismounts his bicycle. On his back is a square backpack with the word CAVIAR in white against a red background. He wears a heavy jacket that does not conceal his Alfred Hitchcock profile. He also wears a black mask with more ridges than a Ruffles potato chip. Above his mask I can see his eyes. Deep brown… the kind that draw you in… the kind that hook your own eyes and pull you closer. The kind that you just want to look at for the rest of your life.

I stare into those wide brown eyes. The guy looks at me, clucks his tongue, then looks back at me. Then he looks skyward, heads to an old apartment building and rings the bell. I watch him move… sexy as a ballet dancer… one leg kicking out… then the next. I’ve never seen anything like it…I’m in love... more stirring between my legs.

I look at the sky. It is blue… a few wispy clouds form the ass of the Venus de Milo... callipygian… right there above my head. I imagine those cloud cheeks… settling themselves on either side of my face. A gluteal COVID mask… right overhead. I turn around to get a different perspective. I turn again… and again. Before long, I’m just spinning on the sidewalk... whirling... arms flung out… a manic ballet… a Dervish on Spring Street… images of those cheeks resting on my face.

I’m getting dizzy. I stop. The spinning doesn’t. The streets twist around me like chopsticks on a turntable. I feel something under my elbow… a hand… pressing to support me.

“Are you all right, sir?” comes a voice whose source I can’t quite locate. “Here, let me help you to someplace where you can sit down.”

We move to a stone porch. I sit on one of the lower steps. Slowly the spinning stops.

“Is that better, sir?” comes the same voice. I look up into his face… scruffy beard… impossible to tell where the nose hairs end and the mustache-beard begins. Bushy gray eyebrows… shooting off in all directions. A double… no triple,,, chin, pushed out by the downward look of the mysterious stranger. He’s one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen.

“You… you…” I start… “Thank you, you saved me,” I say.

“No problem sir,” says that melodious voice. “You think you can make it home by yourself? Should I call an ambulance?”

“I’m okay,” I answer. “Did anyone ever tell you how dazzling you are?”

A smile with a few missing teeth answers my question… I fear I’ve made the smiler uncomfortable.

“No problem, sir,” comes that voice. “Have a nice day.”

I watch as he walks away… what an ass on that guy!

Holy shit! You never think of side effects as anything but BAD side effects… but this must be a vaccine side affect. Shoot me again... and again. I’ve got to get home to take care of the pressure between my legs. I won’t need youngperps.com today. Just my memories and a glance out the window at a passing stranger. So much love… so much beauty!

See you in hell,

Mykel Board

ENDNOTES: [You can contact me on facebook or by email at mykelboard@gmail.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified when anything new is available. Send me an email with SUBSCRIBE in the subject line. Back blogs and columns are at https://mykelsblog.blogspot.com]

--> Speaking of Cop-like dept: WDJT reports that a Wisconsin security guard wound up handcuffed and had to call the cops. Police were dispatched to a local Bath and Body Works around 2 a.m. after receiving a call from the shackled guard.

When asked what happened, the guard told them he was bored and put the handcuffs on himself to pass the time. He hadn’t realized, though, he left his keys at home. He added that it wasn’t the first time it had happened either.

One of the officers used a police handcuff key to free the victim.

Reports are that the guard has since put the cuffs where he can’t easily get to them. I wonder what he looks like.

--> A bird in the Wuhan dept: [This was taken from the CRACKED website.]
Even at-least-now-I-have-time-to-catch-up-on-Netflix thinking can become a curse as you enter the ninth day since you felt sunlight. When you're isolated you crave novelty, and over 40 million people found it in the form of Chinese construction vehicles.

Chinese state broadcasters hosted livestreams of two hospitals being built, and very bored people developed a fandom around the equipment. Cement mixers were dubbed Big White Rabbit and The Cement King. A flatbed truck was declared Brother Red Bull, and the biggest stars of the show were Folkchan, "the cutest and most hard working little forklifts." Fan art was created. Viewers could vote on their favorite vehicles, and little mythologies sprung up in live chats as the construction efforts were cheered on. So please enjoy this lighter side of the corona saga before someone inevitably makes hardcore forklift porn.

–> Howdy Partner Dept: The Washington Post tells us that more than 2,000 police and fire departments across the U.S. have “cooperative agreements” with the Amazon doorbell camera Ring system. This is up from 60 in 2018. The pace of new sign-ups is now two new “partnerships” a day.

Those partnerships allow officers to ask all camera owners within half a square mile of a crime scene to share video that could help with the case, and agencies have been seeking out video at a striking rate. Police in Milwaukee, for example, now send Ring video requests for every homicide and nonfatal shooting in the city. Last year officers there requested video more than 800 times.
Credit where it’s due though. This scary report was published in a newspaper owned by… (drumroll here) AMAZON!

–> More side-effects dept: The Week Magazine reports that there have been unintended side effect from the Zoom Culture that developed over the Covid year. Here’s what they said:

–> Something fishy Dept: CNN reports Taiwan’s government has pleaded with citizens to stop changing their names to “salmon” in order to get free sushi. Restaurant chain Sushiro launched a promotion that people whose names include the Chinese characters for salmon could get a free all-you-can-eat meal with five friends. Taiwan’s interior minister complained that the rush for official name changes created “unnecessary paperwork.” But one college student now named Explosive Good Looking Salmon said it was worth it because he’d already eaten 245 dollars worth of free sushi.

See you in hell… again,

MB

LINK TRADE DEPARTMENT:

I read that the search engines like lots of links... and it's also nice to support my friends and enemies in their blogs. So facebook me or email me if you have a blog, webpage or something else to connect to. I add you. You add me.

Here's a start:

Here’s Richard Goldberg: goldberg.wordpress.com

Poetry and humor fans will like Justin Martin in The Latency

And my friend Mike R has a nice site with recipe hits from the past! (He cooked for me once... great stuff.) Check out Yesterday's Recipes.

Rock-writer and historian extraordinaire, Jim Testa, has continued his great zine online. Jersey Beat is still going!

And here's one by a member of ANTI-SEEN... a tour diary of sorts.

Andy Shelton has an interesting blog here.

Savage Hippie is a guy who has been YouTubing for a long time. Our opinions largely overlap... but he complains that I'm a Communist. I'm not! I'm a communist.

Chris Stecher publishes a zine called PRECIS. You can see the back issue links there... and he promises a new issue soon.

George Fertakis has a very nice graphics-heavy blog... with music and books featured prominently. If there’s no link here (I can’t find it temporarily), then Google… er… Duckduckgo him for information.

And my long-term pal Sid Yiddish contributes with his Mishegas Master Blog.

And connect to TRUST Zine, a long-running German punk zine… that STILL PRINTS!!! Yeah, they have a website too… of course! It’s here.

Here are a couple video links.

This from Jon Cox https://squelchchamber1.bandcamp.com/album/down-so-low

And this one from my very long-time friend Roger Armstrong.

Jim Testa moved his long running zine, Jersey Beat, to the blogosphere awhile back. You can read it here. Jim also recommended a kind of unique album… in a style you don’t see to much of these days… or any days. Neo-Hassidic Rock Opera. You can stream the album here.

Kyle Nonneman is in prison in Portland. At least he can’t be kidnapped by the secret police… I think. I post his blog for him, he can’t do it from the klink. Lots of stuff about noise metal… and some very weird politics that will either fascinate or repulse you… or both.

Oh yeah, then there’s me. I have a blog of stuff I’ve written mostly from last century. You might enjoy it. Then again, you might not. It’s here.

I have a very occasional blog about how rich people are just like us… same needs, same desires, you know. You can read it here.

Let me know if you have a blog… or a print zine… or a YouTube and want to be added to the list. You show me yours… you’ve already seen mine. god@mykelboard.com

You're Still Wrong, Mykels Aug. 2020 Blog Vol 2: WHAT OLD PEOPLE DO!

 

YOU'RE STILL WRONG.. 

MYKEL'S AUGUST 2020 BLOG

VOLUME 2

OR

WHAT OLD PEOPLE DO

by Mykel Board

In America, the land of the perpetually young, growing old is an embarrassment and dying is seen as a failure. – Harold S. Kushner

Suffering and understanding are deeply connected; death and self-awareness are in league. – Denis de Rougemont

Olivia de Havilland died? What a shame! She was 104 years old… had her whole life behind her. It’s just awful. Such a tragedy.

I know. It’s so sad. And what about that Regis Philbin? 84 years old and poof! Just gone! It’s terrifying. Quick! Close everything NOW!!!! Old people are dying!

And Granny! It was so horrible. She had diabetes, chronic lung infection, pneumonia… and she just died. Can you imagine a woman like that just up and dying?

Flash to small talk: At a wedding party… you meet a young man, full head of hair tight chin under his scruffy beard.

“And what do you do?” you ask…

He answers.

“Oh, still in grad school,” you say, “What are your plans for the next decade or so?”

“Well, after I graduate,” comes the answer, “I think I’ll take a trip around the world. Then, look for a job in an emerging tech company. You never know when Google will be on a buying spree.”

Flash to small talk TWO, same party: an older man. The fringe of hair left is deeply gray... eyebags like a shopping trip to Safeway… wisps of gray beard missed in shaving.

“Ah, grandfather of the bride?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “Of the groom.”

“And what are your plans for the next decade or so?” you don’t ask.

“I plan to die,” he doesn’t say. “That’s what old people do. We die.”

Get it?

We have a panic. The government is asking… sometimes demanding… that everyone change their lives to protect the old and the sick. Society upends. There is more sudden poverty than at any time since the great depression. Why? So that old and sick people don’t die.

I’m pushing 80 years old. I’m a high risker. And I’m going to die! You know? That’s what old people do. That’s what EVERYBODY does. You don’t save lives… the best you can do is postpone death. Does this come as a shock to you?

Why should…

Hey Mykel!

Fuck! I’d know that font anywhere. It’s The Literary Device. Okay, I’ll bite. What the hell do you want?

Where are you going with this? As if I didn’t know. You think, since old people and sick people are going to die anyway, that asking everybody to sacrifice to save them is a worthless sacrifice.

“Worse than worthless,” I answer. “Destructive! We’re harming the many to save those who won’t be saved anyway.”

Think, Mykel... since everyone is going to die anyway, why have lifeguards at beaches… or EMT? You’re not saving anyone, you’re just postponing death.

“First,” I say, “what gives you the right to butt in here anyway. You’re just a literary device… you’re not even human. Second...”

BINGO! That’s exactly what gives me the right. I’m one who WON’T die. Literary devices live forever. That gives me some perspective.

“Shut up!” I yell back. “Second, you have a good point. I should have said that given the way this epidemic goes: You don’t save lives. the best you can do is postpone death… a little. Is it worth it?”

Who are you to judge?

“I’m Mykel fuckin’ Board. That’s who. I have the same right to give my opinion as anyone else. And I hate to see lives wrecked... people afraid to leave their houses... last chance meetings missed... plans destroyed... kids taught that other humans are dangerous and being too close to them will kill those kids… the idea of social followed immediately by the idea of distancing… We’re destroying ourselves to save people who would die soon anyway.”

Young people get the virus… even kids. It’s not just a the sick and the old disease.

“Neither is the flu, the common cold, or e-coli,” I answer, “But most people get over them. Corona is unpleasant for a while, sometimes needs heroic measures, but more than 90% of the people who get it, get over it. In the meantime, people’s lives are ruined –forever– by the fear of it. They won’t get over it. Future generations are ruined by lack of real schooling, lack of human contact, lack of a social life… except for DISTANCING. A $600 –or Trumpian $400– check is not going to fix that.”

So what do you propose? Overwhelm the US healthcare system? It’s the worst in the so-called developed world. You want to make it impossible to treat any other disease than the pile of COVIDS?

“Ah,” I reply, “you’ve hit the problem. We’re fucked from the start by living in such a primitive country. Worst medical system… except for the rich. And that’s a problem… for once in my life... I don’t have an answer to.”

Bingo!

- end -

ENDNOTES: [You can contact me on facebook or by email at god@mykelboard.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified when anything new is available. Send me an email with SUBSCRIBE in the subject line. Back blogs and columns are at https://mykelsblog.blogspot.com

Had enough yet? dept: There’s a great story (with an awful headline, cut from the picture below) that just reports and doesn’t take sides. It’s so rare to see any balance from anyone these days.

To mask or not to mask… no conclusions. That’s the way it should be.

→ Bird Flew dept: Meaww.com reports that a British man pleaded guilty to having sex with chickens and having his wife film the act. Rehan Baigalong with his wife, Heema Baig, appeared for a hearing before a judge and pleaded guilty to 11 charges including three of performing an act of penetration on chickens.

Funny, fucking a chicken is a criminal offense, but killing one is not. Values anyone?

→ Swine get it right dept: Meanwhile, the Ripley’s site shows us a flu animal that gets it. There are, evidently, dozens of cases where pigs, farmed for their flesh, EAT the farmers. They do a pretty good job. One family reports a farmer’s remains as “his dentures and a few small body parts-- that’s all.” The article does not say if there are records of pigs fucking humans (though it seems to me I’ve seen the 8mm films). I have no idea if it would be legal or not. But if people aren’t allowed to do it to chickens, you’d expect that pigs wouldn’t be allowed to do it to people. You never know, though. If you do it... send me a picture, will ya?

--See you in hell!

LINK TRADE DEPARTMENT:

I read that the search engines like lots of links... and it's also nice to support my friends and enemies in their blogs. So facebook me or email me if you have a blog, webpage or something else to connect to. I add you. You add me.

Here's a start:

Here’s Richard Goldberg: goldberg.wordpress.com

Poetry and humor fans will like Justin Martin in The Latency

And my friend Mike R has a nice site with recipe hits from the past! (He cooked for me once... great stuff.) Check out Yesterday's Recipes.

And here's one by a member of ANTI-SEEN... a tour diary of sorts.

Andy Shelton has an interesting blog here.

Savage Hippie is a guy who has been YouTubing for a long time. Our opinions largely overlap... but he complains that I'm a Communist. I'm not! I'm a communist.

Chris Stecher publishes a zine called PRECIS. You can see the back issue links there... and he promises a new issue soon.

George Fertakis has a very nice graphics-heavy blog... with music and books featured prominently. If there’s no link here (I can’t find it temporarily), then Google… er… Duckduckgo him for information.

And my long-term pal Sid Yiddish contributes with his Mishegas Master Blog.

Here are a couple video links.

This from Jon Cox https://squelchchamber1.bandcamp.com/album/down-so-low

And this one from my very long-time friend Roger Armstrong.

Oh yeah, then there’s me. I have a blog of stuff I’ve written mostly from last century. You might enjoy it. Then again, you might not. It’s here.

Let me know if you have a blog… or a print zine… or a YouTube and want to be added to the list. You show me yours… you’ve already seen mine. god@mykelboard.com

You're Still Wrong, June 2020 Volume 1... Every Little Bit

You're Still Wrong, June 2020 Volume 1 or Every Little Bit

YOU'RE STILL WRONG.. 

MYKEL'S JUNE 2020 BLOG

VOLUME 1

OR

EVERY LITTLE BIT COUNTS

by Mykel Board

NOTE: This was written before the George Floyd murder. You'll get your fill of Floyd in the NEXT Blog.]

Public opinion is always right, especially when it's really idiotic.

--Louis-Ferdinand Celine

There is this notion that is quite popular in the environmental scene that every little bit helps, or 'Think global, act local.' I disagree with that. I think you have to start with how big the solution needs to be to solve the problem and then reason backward from there.

--Boyan Slat

I’m five years old… with Mom, Dad and Gail, my two-year-old sister… at Jones Beach. Usually we go to the North Shore beaches… like Glen Cove. There are no waves there. I guess Mom and Dad think it’s safer. At Jones Beach big waves come rolling in from the ocean. There are no surfers. Maybe surfing hasn’t been invented yet.

People lay on blankets all around us… This is the 1950s. There are bikinis… pretty new things… Mom isn’t wearing one. No, Dad isn’t either. Five year old me is happy to look at the bulges... girl bulges... guy bulges… and just wonder. We have a picnic basket, some cans of coke, some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches... a few Hershey bars. I’m drinking from a new cup Dad bought me. It collapses… telescopes into itself… You can carry it in a pocket. I like to drink from it, and collapse one section at a time as the liquid inside depletes. 

Five year old me likes to look at the water, and the bulging people that go into it. The way they dive… the way their bodies penetrate a wave like a thread into a needle.

Uh oh, something’s wrong. Looks like a teenager… not so far from me… caught in a big wave. I hear calls for help. I run as quickly as my five year old legs allow… back to the beach blanket… back to my pants, next to Mom under the umbrella. I reach into the pocket.

Yes! Here it is... the telescoping cup. I run to the shore with the cup… wade in… take the cup and scoop out water from the ocean. A cupful… run to the sand and dump it out. Then another cupful… run back to the sand.

A crowd grows on shore. A lifeguard pushes through and dives into the water. I can’t see what happens from here on because my father has grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me back to shore and the beach blanket.

“What were you doing out there, Mickey?” he asks. (Yes, that was my childhood nickname.)

“Daddy,” I say, “I was taking water out of the ocean to help the man.”

“That’s crazy,” says Dad. “Don’t you know that you could have been killed… swept into the water by a big wave. Why would you do something like that?”

I can feel the tears coming to my eyes. “You told me to, Daddy,” I cry. “Remember, you said every little bit helps!”

NO IT DOESN’T!

Get it?

We already talked about the self-righteous fallacy that wearing a mask is a little bit that will help keep some sick person from dying. Actually, we need the lifeguard of a decent healthcare system. Instead, we scoop cupfuls of water by wearing some piece of cloth over our face and feeling oh so good about ourselves.

Or we stay home… social distance… destroy small bars and restaurants.. kill the society that keeps people sane… make people afraid to go out to see the doctor. They stay home and their cancer has a chance to metastasize… or they avoid that pain in the chest because it’s probably nothing serious and Corona patients need the hospital more than I do.

But wait, there’s more! What about the people who lost their jobs and die because they can’t afford their medication? What about the NEW homeless… made that way because the lockdown has impoverished them? Somehow, it is selfish to consider these people. Somehow, the business patronizers and the families that urge their loved ones to hug and touch are the bad guys. The stay-at-homers and the mask-wearers are the good guys. Why? Because every little bit helps.

NO, IT DOESN’T!

Recently, Consumer Reports ran an article about recycling. I've been a recycling opponent for some time, preferring not to buy shit in the first place... or at least reUSING rather than spending the energy to haul something away, process it, and then use more energy to distribute and sell it again. My neighbors tsk tsk when I throw my little plastic in the general garbage bin, while they dump their camel hump piles of plastic in the green bin. I’m not doing my part, you see. And every little bit helps.

The reason the public thinks recycling is the answer is that the plastic industry has spent 30 years on multimillion-dollar campaigns saying that.” says the Consumer Reports article. That was absolutely the wrong message. The message should have been: “Don’t use so much plastic in the first place.” Recycling makes you feel good, but it does nothing about the bigger problem of too much plastic in the first place.

Throwing your plastic into the garbage does not help. It just makes garbage. Not buying shit helps. Outlawing plastic shopping bags helps. Refilling your glass shampoo bottle and not drinking water from tiny plastic bottles… THAT helps. But the little act of putting that seltzer bottle in the recycling bin… that does NOT help… except to make you feel better.

HOLD UP! CHANGE OF SCENERY… I have three friends –all girls, interestingly enough… though they wouldn’t want to be called that– who have not fallen victim to social distancing. They don’t believe touching other people is DANGEROUS… you might catch something. The one I’m with now chides me for being so angry.

“Mykel,” she says, “stop the teeth gritting already. Lighten up… look at the leaves on the trees… check out the kids playing in the park… tell jokes… make people laugh.”

“My Jason mask makes people laugh.” I tell her.

 “Yes,” she says, “and it’s a good way to protest the mask bullshit... with a smile…. But your writing. It’s just angry… It’s not funny anymore.”

“Can I smell your twat?” I ask.

“That’s not funny,” she answers, pulling away from me, “and no, you cannot smell my twat.”

“Then it must be your feet,” I say.

“Okay,” she says. “That’s funny.”

We walk together down Broadway toward the financial district. She points out trees, flowers, murals, statues I’ve never seen before. Without car exhausts, you can smell the flowers… and the food smells that waft onto the street from the take-out places. When you have nowhere to be, you can take your time getting there… and enjoy the trip.

We pass an outdoor fruit stand. I didn’t even know they were still allowed. I smell durian. Maybe with all the stay-at-home Wall Streeters, new enterprises, spring up like daisies in an untended lawn.

Besides us, her maskless… me with my Jason mask… a woman with a high-tech face mask, goggles, and rubber gloves carefully picks through the fruit on the stand. She quickly glances at the two of us, then speaks to the stand attendant, an older Chinese guy.

“You know,” she says, speaking through her mask, the next two words in vocal italics, “some people think this whole thing is a joke. They don’t take care. I say, You can’t be too careful.”

“YES YOU CAN!” I shout at her.

Get it?

- end -

ENDNOTES: [You can contact me on facebook or by email at god@mykelboard.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified when anything new is available. Send me an email with SUBSCRIBE in the subject line. Back blogs and columns are at https://mykelsblog.blogspot.com.

→ Virtual Fans Dept: The NY Times reports that the Seoul soccer club in South Korea was forced to apologize after propping up sex dolls in the seats for its match against Gwangju. "We had tried to add some fun in the no-spectator match," the club explained. "But we have not checked all the details, and that is clearly our fault." Details included the large breasted physiques and sex toy marketer’s logos on the dolls' clothing. The club covered the sucking mouths with surgical masks. That apparently wasn’t good enough. Fans quickly noticed.

→ I can’t even SAY Lamborghini dept: CNN reports that a Utah Highway Patrol officer pulled over a car for "what he thought was an impaired driver." Instead, he found a 5-year-old in the driver's seat. The boy told the trooper he took off in his parents' car after arguing with his mother because she wouldn't buy him a Lamborghini. He told the cop he planned to drive to California to get one for himself. "He only had $3 his wallet," the highway patrolman noted.

→ Just takin’ the pet out dept: Spain has one of the strictest lockdowns in Europe. News 14 reports that in Logrono a man took advantage of the lockdown rules. They make an exception for pet owners, who are allowed to go outside briefly with their pets. The National Police tweeted a photo of the man being arrested for sitting on a city bench holding his pet fish in a fish bowl.

→ Editrix knows best dept: Marlene Wicherski, former half-editrix of the great DC music zine Truly Needy, is the current editrix of my blog. After editing this one she wrote me:
I wonder what you would think of the plastic seltzer bottle recycling being done here (Boston). You toss in your empties and the hospital fashions them into face shields for health workers.

I say… it’s better than a hit in the head. But Corona will disappear. That plastic island in the Pacific will keep getting bigger.

– See you all in hell,

Mykel

LINK TRADE DEPARTMENT:

I read that the search engines like lots of links... and it's also nice to support my friends and enemies in their blogs. So facebook me or email me if you have a blog, webpage or something else to connect to. I add you. You add me.

Here's a start:

David Goldberg's Busy Microbes Blog

And another Goldberg: goldberg.wordpress.com

Poetry and humor fans will like Justin Martin in The Latency

And my friend Mike R has a nice site with recipe hits from the past! (He cooked for me once... great stuff.) Check out Yesterday's Recipes.

And here's one by a member of ANTI-SEEN... a tour diary of sorts.

Andy Shelton has an interesting blog here.

Savage Hippie is a guy who has been YouTubing for a long time. Our opinions largely overlap... but he complains that I'm a Communist. I'm not! I'm a communist.

Chris Stecher publishes a zine called PRECIS. You can see the back issue links there... and he promises a new issue soon.

George Fertakis has a very nice graphics-heavy blog... with music and books featured prominently. If there’s no link here (I can’t find it temporarily), then Google… er… Duckduckgo him for information.

And my long-term pal Sid Yiddish contributes with his Mishegas Master Blog.

AND I've started to receive music and band pages. Take a look at this one sent to me from Jon Cox. Squelch Chamber  

Then there's this from long-time friend, and MRR contributor Roger Armstrong. Double Fisted

I just heard from The Green Party who wanted me to put in a plug for them. Here it is, though somehow I doubt they'll mention me in their campaign literature.

Let me know if you have a blog… or a PRINT zine and want to be added to the list. You show me yours… you’ve already seen mine. god@mykelboard.com