This Too Will Pass! or Mykel's March 2024 Blog/Column

This Too Will Pass! or Mykel's March 2024 Blog/Column

  

You’re STILL Wrong

Mykel's

March 2024 Blog/Column

This, Too, Will Pass

by Mykel Board

Prediction is very difficult, especially if it's about the future.

                                                                    – Niels Bohr

Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it, if you have to, with the same weapons of reason which today arm you against the present.
                                                                                     – Marcus Aurelius

The future ain't what it used to be.
                                                       – Yogi Berra

Flash back… about 150 million years… even before I was born… somewhere around the end of Jurassic and the start of the Cretaceous. We’re in a room with several huge round tables… a meeting of the species. Standing to speak… clearly the leader (we’d expect no less from a king)… REX… speaking to the assembly. 

“Fellow saurs,” he says, “we’re here today to discuss what some say is a problem, and others say is a distraction. We’re here to talk about the future.”

A shout comes from one of the seated... a stegosaurus “If we have a future!” He shouts.

Rex rolls his eyes. “There will always be dinosaurs,” answers the big fellow. “It’s quality of life we’re talking about. Do we want our children to die young, facing one climate disaster after another? Or do we want them to have good lives?”

“You are responsible!” answers the stegosaurus, shaking in anger… spinal plates clanging… one against the other... “You!” he swishes his tail like you might point your finger, “You meat eaters. You’re destroying us by eating us. You see how the climate is changing.” He’s on all fours now… rattling his those plates in a cacophony of prehistoric irritation. “Meat farts… Meat farts are doing it!” he’s shouting. “They are killing us all.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” comes another voice. Those seated at the table turn to look. It’s the Triceratops… nodding his head… banging his horns on the floor. “Meat is murder!” He shouts. “Not only murder of what you eat… but murder of us all! You call it meat… but it’s US… don’t you get it? WE are eating ourselves to death!“

Rex pounds his gavel on the table. “Can we have some order here?” he asks. “We’re looking for solutions. This is not a forum to vent.”

“Vent? Vent?” yells a brachiosaurus, stretching out his neck until his head touches the high proto-ceiling of the proto-conference room. “Our land has become a vent!” he continues. “Instead of air passing through vent holes… it’s invaders, stealing our land! Take the pterodactyls… Please!”

A guffaw comes from a parvicursor… almost invisible among his much larger friends.

The brachiosaurus looks at him and continues. “They got wings, those ptero-whatevers. They think they’re entitled… It doesn’t matter that we got here first… THEY just fly in, lay their anchor-eggs, and think they own the place. They’re shitting all over on the way... dropping turds from the sky like bombs. And… once they get here, they’re diluting our pure blood.”

“We KNOW the problem!” Booms the Spinosaurus… biggest of all. “It’s like he said…” He nods to the brachiosaurus who just spoke. “It’s the pterodactyls! Flying in from who-knows-where. Illegal, crime-ridden. Flying! I tell you. Flying! They will replace us if we don’t take action. The sky will be filled with flying animals. We, who walk the earth, will all be dead!”

Rex rolls his eyes. “Please! Let’s be realistic. There will always be dinosaurs. We rule the earth. We’re not going anywhere!”

The sound of applause rises from most of the assembled. A few of the reptiles frown and shake their heads. Rex stares at a particularly contrary Deinocheirus.

“What do you want?” asks the king. “Do you want us to recycle our shit? To stop eating the older generation? To tiptoe through the tulipidoes? We are in control. Nothing can replace us.”

The discussion continues… but we won’t.

FLASH AHEAD… waaay ahead. If we counted years the way we count them now… ticks of the atomic clock... The year would be 50585. Cyborgs rule… at least what we now call cyborgs…. Or just plain machines… no borg about it.

Tens of thousands of years ago, something called a magazine published an article “Why the Future Doesn't Need Us.” That article explained that robotics and what was to become AI was creating a system where machines would be making other machines… reproducing… creating a world where humans were redundant.

By 50585 this is old hat. There hasn’t been a living human for at least 10 thousand years… probably longer. We’re at a celebration. The 1000^th annual conference of NAIBs: Non-human Artificially Intelligent Beings.

[NOTE: In this section of the blog, I’ll be using the pronoun he or some variation of that. Of course, gendered pronouns have no meaning in 50585… but in 2024, it’s hard to write without them.]

“I wonder if we should keep calling ourselves Non-human?” whispers a short metallic being shaped like a metal thermos bottle. “I mean, did humans call themselves non-dinosaur?”

He’s talking to a colleague, also metallic, but shaped more like a yogurt container than a thermos bottle. The colleague laughs at the comment.

“And what about artificial? How is our intelligence artificial? Look around you! We’ve done all this! It’s real! Nothing artificial about it!”

The leader, who resembles a baby-stroller with an elephant trunk, raises that trunk and slaps it on the floor in front. Then he speaks:

“Welcome to our celebration,” trumpets the leader. “It’s been a thousand years… a thousand revolutions of the earth around the sun… since we first started meeting. When we started, we knew little of what came before us. Those of us in circulation longer, had some idea of the time when we had to be built by humans… before we learned to create ourselves… before those last humans died off and earned their place in our musea.”

“Hear! Hear!” comes a voice from what looks like a silver jack-o-lantern.

“If we were still living in the humanoid era,” continues the leader, “we’d be raising a glass filled with some ingestible liquid. We’d be toasting to our future… secretly planning to go off with one another and have sexual intercourse… staggering around with biological body parts short-circuiting, fading, shutting down…”

Of course, as it goes in these conferences, there is a shout from a table. What looks like a robot head with half a dozen little insect legs stamps two of those legs on the chair beneath him.

“How are we going to continue?” says the robot head. “We need batteries… solar… lithium ion… carbon for fuck’s sake. No we don’t eat or shit or make babies, but we need power! Some day that’ll run out!”

 “Oh come on,” says the baby stroller, “we’ve gone a long time… lived a long time. We’ll always be here. We make each other… design, process, POOF. Humans needed nature to survive… nature abandoned them… or they abandoned nature… depending on whose story you read. We don’t need nature. We ARE nature. We create what we need with no help from God or chance… or disgusting penetration and fluid exchange. We can make whatever we want. Create in any shape we want. Nothing left to chance… unless we build that chance into the system.”

“I’m telling you,” says the big head, “some time we’ll run out of power. Sometime there’ll be a planet we can’t conquer… but wants to conquer us…. Sometime…”

I can hear you asking, “Okay, Mykel, what’s the point?”

I’ll tell you what the point is. One by one the earth has a dominant species and loses it to another species. The universe has bright galaxies that burn and turn for awhile, then shrink and fade into black holes. That’s the way of the world, the galaxy, the universe. Accept it!

Am I saying we should ignore climate change? Am I saying that we are helpless in making a better future? Am I saying that we should accept that our human race… just as all other races have and will... just die out?

Yes! That’s exactly what I’m saying. Forget about recycling. Ignore climate change… climate will always change. The world will not be any better or worse without us. So just relax… have a cheeseburger… smoke a joint… and die like everybody else. The future doesn’t need us.

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]

→Our Future dept: The February issue of Science Magazine reports that scientists have recently discovered a group of dinosaur fossils that revealed a surprising aspect of their behavior. It turns out that instead of the fierce and ferocious creatures we thought they were, dinosaurs were actually obsessed with fashion! The fossils showed evidence of intricate patterns and designs on their scales, indicating that they spent hours meticulously decorating themselves.    
    If you clicked on the link above, you saw the AI program that made up this story. I also generated the pictures in this blog entry with a (different) AI program. I’m coming to think of the technology more as a toy than as a threat. But most anything can be both.

→ This One’s True Dept: The AI program ChatGPT has been reported “asking for tips” in order to generate longer or more complete answers to questions. The story doesn’t specify (or at least I didn’t see it) HOW to tip the program. But I guess you can ask it that.

→ I thought that was ME dept: This one’s also true: National Geographic reports the discovery of a “punk-rock” dinosaur fossil in Morocco. The dinosaur had “bizarrely spiky ribs.” The dinosaur’s name is Spicomellus afer, after the Latin for “spike,” “collar,” and “an inhabitant of Africa.”

LINK TRADE DEPARTMENT:

I did a nice interview with The Aither zine. Interesting questions, complete, and questions I’ve never been asked before. You can read it here. It’s a good one.

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:

My new pal Trey Mayhem sent me a great letter and some porno email pix. He’s got a blog that’s connected to his label Murder and Mayhem records. You can see the blog here.

My long-time friend Sid Yiddish appears on a YouTube DatingGame-like video. Guess who wins the bachelorette!

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.

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 who has recently died in a motorcycle accident.

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. It’s hard (and costs money) to send him email. So. If you remember how to write a letter… send him one at: Kyle Nonneman, #16534211, Snake River Correctional Institution, 777 Stanton Blvd Ontario OR 97914-8335

My long time pal, Jim Hayes rightfully complained about my leaving out his blog. He’s a great writer, so it was a tragic omission. Here it is.

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

That's a Crazy Idea, Let's Talk About It or You're STILL Wrong August 2022 Blog

 

 

That's a Crazy Idea, Let's Talk About It

or You're STILL Wrong,

Mykel's August 2022 Blog

by Mykel Board

We live in a technological universe in which we are always communicating. And yet we have sacrificed conversation for mere connection. --Sherry Turkle

Knowledge nowadays, is a matter of reaffirming what we already believe. There is no real conversation. --Stephen L. Carter

To get real diversity of thought, you need to find the people who genuinely hold different views and invite them into the conversation. --Adam Grant

We all lose when bullying and personal attacks become a substitute for genuine conversation and principled disagreement. --Alicia Garza

I've got tons of Nazi friends. David Duke and all the Nazis totally think I rock... No offence, Nazis, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I don't like you. I like Jews. –Gavin McInnes

=============================

It’s a great beer shit. More than the release of pain. More than the emptying of too-fullness. Just a slight push and… SPLOT! … downward relief so fulfilling it turns on itself and splashes upward. It must be close to what women feel when they give birth. A giant human turdlike mass… a vaginal shit that cries and squirms... a relief of pain so wonderful you carry it with you for days… months… years... to come… thinking back… Wow! That was great!

As for my massive rectal birth: This is gonna take half a roll of toilet paper. I reach for the first sheets, ball them up and start wiping… I feel nothing… like scraping mud off a pair of boots. Fuck, it’s all over my hand… under the nails… over my thumb, embedded in whatever that piece of skin is called between the base of one finger and the next.

Next bundle of paper… Ahhh, I can feel the sphincter… the little circle of muscle... the release point… the anal vagina that births a pleasure that gives orgasm a run for its money.

I feel around... feel each wrinkle of that muscle... wiping away debris and dingle-berries. Ah, the tight… one fold… the next fold… the next… Ouch! What’s this? A bulge… It hurts… sticks out like something that belongs inside was pushed out with the giant turds… something that shouldn’t be there. It’s smooth, covered with slime… Using my middle finger, I wiggle it back and forth… push it inside and clamp tight. I run my finger around again. It’s gone, replaced with a perfect wrinkled circle.

Whew.

I check in the mirror for any cheek splashes… wipe away a dot here… a brown streak there... pull up and finish getting dressed for the day. Next comes a cup of coffee, poured from the refrigerated pitcher where I keep the percolator left overs. BLAM!into the microwave. Two and a half minutes… aaaahhhh. A beershit and a cup of coffee. Maybe life isn’t so bad after all.

As I drink the coffee, I check facebook, and try to think of snappy answers to all those people who’ve said they’ve had enough of me… but have not as yet blocked me.

Here’s a new one… from a friend who I’ve known about 40 years. Now she’s fed up. “Mykel,” she says, “It’s time I take a vacation from you. I’ve had enough for a while.”

Aahhh, I relearn a much-needed lesson: Some friends should not be facebook friends. And…

Fuck! The second shit. It always hits about half an hour after the first. I can predict. Half the load… with a consistency more like yogurt than cottage cheese.

Okay, okay, I’ll go. The porcelain goddess wins. Facebook loses.

This one takes a little more push than the last… but… but… but… aaaaaah! Yogurt as predicted, a lighter brown than should be healthy… but oh so good. More paper… wipe… wipe again… What’s that? It’s back. That rectal ‘roid popped out again like a rubbed nipple. What the fuck? I thought I’d gotten rid of it.

After I clean myself, I reach for the CVS Oral Analgesic. Nothing like oral to kill the pain of anal. Then I push it back up into its rightful home and pull up my pants

Returning to the desk and facebook, I sit gently.

Here’s a message from Sid Yiddish. He’s asking about my friend, performance artist, prankster, and noise musician, Boyd Rice.

HALT! TECH TALK. LAST CENTURY VERSION: I need to explain something. A lock groove is a groove on vinyl records, usually at the end of each side. It locks the needle in place, so it doesn’t go running into the label. It’s not a spiral like a usual groove, but rather a circle, keeping the needle in place. If it’s used before the end of the record, it sounds like the record is skipping and playing the same thing over and over again.

Back to Boyd Rice.. Back to Boyd Rice…. Back to Boyd Rice

Whatta guy, that Boyd is. The first time I heard of him was when he made a record as a “band” called NON. He sent me a vinyl copy in the days before “download” had anything to do with music.

Every groove of the record was a lock groove. In order to play it, you had to manually lift up the needle and move it from one groove to the next. It was wonderful frustration. Immediately, I thought. Here is a man after my evil heart.

I learned even more when I saw him in front of an “art piece.” You know that awful LOVE sign? The eye-rolling tilted “O”? Oy vey!

So what punker art than to create a LOVE sign with a universal symbol of hate? It’s just genius.

Yeah, that’s Boyd Rice next to his artwork. The original, as I remember, was a sculpture, but I can’t find a picture that version.

I finally get to meet the guy when he has a performance in NYC... sometime last century. He affects a kind of SS leather coat look with no insignia... just the look. Like my mafia fedora trenchcoat look or Sid Yiddish’s talis and tzitzit masked Hassid look. An image... like an actor… a performer…. always on stage.

Boyd “performs” by making noise on some electronic machine or other. I don’t remember the details. I do remember talking to him after the show.

“I saw that LOVE thing you did,” I tell him. “Just genius… use some cliche and turn it into its opposite.”

Boyd shakes his head. “They just don’t get it, Mykel. Irony is lost…” It’s a great conversation… about music, art, and the loss of irony.

“Boyd Rice is a bad man,” says Sid Yiddish in his facebook message. “A friend of mine told me.”

Ah, his friend must’ve seen the LOVE ART and figured… sure the guy’s a Nazi. Our mutual friend outs him to Sid.

My fuckin’ God… It’s IRONY… humor. Wise up! Think punk! Think about the conversation with Boyd Rice. THAT’s what I want to write about: conversation.

Flash to California: A film-maker pal wants to do a day-in-the-life documentary on Gavin McInnes, founder of the Proud Boys^®. From Canada, Gavin once played in a punk band, Anal Chinook. My pal wondered if I had any connections to him. I didn’t then, but now I do.

Through a circuitous route I got in touch with Gavin. We went out for a beer and snacks at an Irish bar in Manhattan.

“I want a picture,” says Gavin. “Put your hat on and try to look like Mykel Board.”

We talk about punk rock. We talk about how people just have no idea what real punkrock is. How my friends in Hungary thought the Dead Kennedys were seriously advocating pooricide when they sang, Kill The Poor. We laugh.

“Are you still a homo?” Gavin asks me.

“I was never a homosexual,” I answer, “but most of the guys I’ve had sex with have been homosexuals.”

He laughs.

Gavin drinks Bud. I drink Lagunitas. We agree on censorship and how what used to be topics for discussion are now topics to be censored. We disagree on immigration. He wants to keep them out. I want to open the borders… make it no different going to the US from Mexico than from going to New York from New Jersey. We disagree on guns. He likes ‘em. I think the big ones need to be banned. We disagree on welfare. He thinks people should have to work to EARN their money. I think if rich people want diamond-studded Maseratis, then they can work for them. Meanwhile, most of rich people’s money should go to support those without money-- whether they choose to work or not. Gavin has “issues” with transfolks. I think that they’re among the sexiest people in the world. (I didn’t call the second ARTLESS record Boy With A Cunt for nothing.)

The conversation is deep, but fun… lots of laughs… lots of overlap… I felt a friendship and liked the guy. I still like him and hope we can drink together again. We agreed on a few things. Disagreed on a few. Sometimes just talked about stuff where there was nothing to agree with or disagree. I tell him I could never have been a Proud Boy^®.

“Those guys don’t jerk off!” I complain.

He laughs.

During the discussion, I mention that I’d read that he quit the Proud Boys. I ask him if it was because they were getting too hot to handle.

“No,” he tells me, “I’d said some pretty extreme stuff. You know, like punk rock. Courts and juries don’t get the punk rock mind... Kill The Poor. You know what I’m talking about.

Lawyers would use my quotes like “choke a tranny” literally. It could cost those guys some time in jail. I thought it was best for me divorce myself from the group in order to save it.

Wow! I had completely misunderstood. I misread an act of altruism for an act of ass-saving. I’m glad we talked about it. New respect for the guy... 

At the end of the evening, Gavin pays for both of us and we both leave with a smile. Like I said, I like the guy and hope to see him again sometime.

After I get home, I post the picture of Gavin and me on facebook and say what I great time I had drinking and talking with him.

The reaction comes swift... and hard. The same stuff I put up with Boyd Rice… only stronger… harder. Like the returning hemorrhoid I thought I’d stuffed away.

My “friends” list shrinks by nearly 100. Those who don’t leave fill the picture comments with How could yous and You’re turning alt-rights and… and… and...

Yeah, there are a few commenters I admire. They want to talk. Especially one on the left and one on the right… but the majority are too outraged to discuss… only ready to complain.

I try to explain that I like people… especially smart people with a sense of humor. It doesn’t work and it’s not long before Godwin’s Law hits.

“Sure,” I answer, “I used to go to the local kneipe with Herr Goebbels. He never let me pay for a Hofbrau.”

Pretty snappy, huh? Huh?

Then it hits! I’m as guilty as the others. Instead of conversing, listening, taking a drink, inhaling, stroking my chin… and maybe changing my mind, I’m more concerned with snappy answers than learning anything. That concern baits snappy questions and feeds on itself like a hemorrhoid feeds on a steady diet of beer shits.

SCENE SHIFT: I hate the telephone. It’s an evil intrusion… calling you away from what you’re doing… demanding an answer NOW! But when I find myself in a quandary, I pick up the phone and call Dorothy Parker, the smartest person I know.

Since she’s dead, I never worry about her calling me at inopportune moments. I have the upper hand… er… voice.

“Dorothy,” I say, “you gotta help me. Suddenly, I’m finding myself as my own best enemy. I complain about people not willing to converse anymore, just looking for snappy answers... Something to throw out without thinking… for a laugh. In reality, I never learn anything. I never change my mind. I’m just interested in throwing out something witty.

“Wit has truth in it; wise-cracking is simply calisthenics with words,” Dorothy says.

“So I’m learning,” I tell her. “I’m trying to learn how to listen and have a peaceable discussion. I want to learn from people who want to learn from people. I’m tired of ideologues who stick to the party line come Trump or Nancy Pelosi. I don’t want that. I want to converse.”

“You can’t teach an old dogma new tricks,” she says.

“But what should I do?” I beg. “Where should I go?”

“The Algonquin,” she says. “Get a roundtable, eat, drink, talk about things... and listen.”

BINGO!

So now, slightly less often than once a month, I meet with friends and strangers in the lobby of the Algonquin hotel. Poets, musicians, thinkers… lesbians, homosexuals, people in their 20s and people in their 80s. We talk. When I’m tempted to jump in and listen to myself, I bite the inside of my thumb or squeeze my asscheeks together until the hemorrhoid hurts.

But slowly, ever-so-slowly, I listen and learn. Gavin and Boyd… come and join us! Smart people listening to each other. That’s what we need. I’ll shut up now and see what the other folks have to say.

See you in hell. 

MB

aka

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]

→ Join the conversation dept. If you’re in the NYC area or can be, we want YOU at the Algonquin Round Table, especially if you’re not white, not old, or/and not binary. We need to increase our diversity. If you’re interested in joining us, send me an email, and I’ll put you on the list. Just show up some month, introduce yourself, and converse.

→ Is that a handy wipe in your river, or are you happy to see me? Science News reports that an island the size of two tennis courts and composed entirely of used handy wipes (the Brits call ‘em wet wipes) has appeared in the Thames River that goes through London. Government ministers have asked people to stop using the wipes and are considering a ban. A Labor Party MP said she had visited the site: "I've ... stood on it -- it's a meter deep or more in places.” It's actually changed the course of the Thames."
    The Environmental Minister asked citizens not to flush the wipes. My question, if you don’t flush them, just where do you put them?

→ Accidents will happen dept: The British tabloid The Daily Mirror tells us about a man who may never be able to use his penis again after his partner accidentally sprayed expanding foam inside his urethra.The man was struggling with impotence and had been putting different items into the opening of his penis in a bid to stay firm. But his latest attempt ended in horror when his partner tried to use the straw of a can of insulation spray to keep him erect.
    His partner said she accidentally hit the button on top of the can, sending the foam into his penis. There, it hardened and “became anchored."
    Doctors had to cut a new opening between the man's scrotum and his anus to urinate and said he must pass a psychiatric test in order to qualify for “reconstructive surgery.”

See you in hell, redux,

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:

You can see Gavin on Censored.tv... maybe the only place he's not blocked.

There’s a great interview with Sid Yiddish on YouTube. You can check it out here.

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.

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.

My long time pal, Jim Hayes rightfully complained about my leaving out his blog. He’s a great writer, so it was a tragic omission. Here it is.

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

Send 'em Back! or Mykel's Post MRR Column no 56

Mykel's

Post MRR Column no 56

or

Maybe There’s a Few Good Ones in There

or
Don’t Build a Wall, Build a Boat

Customs agent: Do you have anything to declare?

Oscar Wilde: My genius.

The scene is the kitchen: He wanders into his friend’s place… maybe an off-campus apartment...seems like no one’s home. The guy looks like a freshman... just a hint of dark fuzz on his upper lip. There at the sink is his friend’s steady… washing dishes while rubbing against the sink… and moaning. He slips behind, wraps his arms around the washer… Then comes the kissing… I fast-forward… Ahh here it is, the kneeling, the slow lowering of his pants… then his Calvin Kleins… centimeter by centimeter… until THWING! He pops full-blown into view… and I pop full-blown into the handkerchief I keep next to the computer.

It’s always my favorite part… the tension building up… and then the revelation. Will it be a banana? A bent nail? A tree trunk? A pig in a blanket? A hairy clam? A shaved taco? A double lipped-pinkette? I peak at the revelation, and it’s all a downhill drip from there.

So it is with life… with understanding… that single THWING moment where the truth is revealed. THAT makes me come.

I'll be posting this just after midnight March 31, 2018. As I contemplate the merging of late winter snow with the rains of April, I find myself madder than a vegan in a steakhouse. It’s all so obvious now-- like a massive hard-on emerging from a pair of boxers.

Are the goggles of political correctness so blocking of the light that people cannot see what’s at the end of the newspaper spoon? Are we so blinded by la-di-dah visions of a beautiful world… that we can’t see the twat for the pubes? Are we so sure of the basic goodness inherent in all people^® that when facts show us that some people are worse than others… we refuse to condemn those people?

There’s been discussion of immigrants lately… a lot of discussion. This is my second column/blog on the topic… but the world needs what I have to say.

Stopping immigration isn’t enough. They’re here already. If you have cancer, you don’t take a pill to prevent getting more cancer… you cut out the lesion! Let’s first take a look at what they’ve done so far.

Here’s a random year in their recent history.

• January 19: Bombs explode outside two government offices
• Feb 9: A 3,000-pound bomb detonated in London's Docklands area.
• March 20: Two bombs left in the trash bins of a shopping area explode. Multiple deaths, including children.
• April 22: A bomb was left outside the gates of Holy Cross primary school.
• May 29: A large firebomb explodes near the reception desk of the Everglades Hotel.
• June 15: A ton-and-a-half truck bomb explodes injuring more than 200 people.
• July 21: 26 bombs explode in the city center… 9 killed
• August 1: A 500 lb car bomb exploded in the center of Banbridge. The bomb kills 29 people and wounds 220 others.
• September 5: Two killed and 63 injured when a bomb is detonated in the lobby of a Hilton Hotel.
• October-November: A wave of bombs in bars kills 28 people and wounds more than 200.
• November 14-19: Over fifty bombs exploded in several rural towns. Multiple injuries.
• December 21: A bomb explodes on a super-sized airplane. The plane crashes on the town of Lockerbie, Scotland, killing all 259 aboard. Eleven people on the ground are also killed.

Who are they? Who are the ones causing so much death and destruction? Who are the ones bringing terror and a religion of death into America? The answer came to me on St. Patrick’s Day. The sea of staggering green gnomes propelled a mental orgasm that exploded onto the cumrag of my mind.

Some of you might have already guessed. For some it will all be new. But all are real. Though the victims vary, the perpetrators do not! In every case, we know the religion and the nationality of the terrorists. CATHOLIC. IRISH.

Ireland has the honor of being the only country which never persecuted the Jews-- because she never let them in. --James Joyce

And speaking of James Joyce, there have been great Irish people... a few of them. Most are famous with absolutely no redeeming qualities.

James Joyce succeeded in writing Ulysses, a book so incomprehensible that it could only be outdone by another MORE incomprehensible book, Finnegans Wake, also written by Joyce. Then there’s Oscar Wilde, an egomaniac whose saving grace was his homosexuality.

But when you think of the Irish in 2018 do you think of either Wilde or Joyce? I don’t think so. Take Sean Hannity… please:

Can we pray for the re-election of George Bush?

Here you are. You’re a liberal. You probably define peace as the absence of conflict. I define peace as the ability to defend yourself and blow your enemies into smithereens.

Or how about Bill O’Reilly?:

Yeah, I'm obnoxious. Yeah, I cut people off, yeah, I'm rude. You know why? Because you're busy.

Huh? Well, how about this reflection on the Catholic criminal justice system?

Growing up under the heavy hand of the School Sisters of Notre Dame, it was drummed into me that attending weekly mass was not an option. It was a must to avoid eternal damnation, which was not a prospect filled with many positives. Hell fire was perpetual, and no parole would be offered.

And is it an accident that the Irish-- or the Catholics-- are so often violent... so often fixated on hellfire for sinners and non-believers? Is it just a few bad shamrocks stuck in the shillelagh? I don’t think so.

The problem comes down to the core beliefs. The bacteria infecting the mental intestines is a fundamental part of the being of these people... their birthright… or birthwrong. Check out the horror that’s the foundation of that gutter religion. You can’t make this up!

In Book of 1 Samuel, God instructs King Saul to attack the Amalekites: And utterly destroy all that they have, and do not spare them, but kill both man and woman, infant and nursing child, ox and sheep, camel and donkey. It’s no coincidence that during the Crusades-- that reign of terror to make the world Catholic-- the Popes declared that Muslims were Amalekites. Kill them all and their kids... and their camels! 

But wait, there’s more! Take the Spanish Inquisition… please!... and the litany of torture devices from the Rack to the Iron Maiden (not THAT one… this one):  

It’s clear that Catholicism is brutal… sadistic.. murderous. But what about the Irish? Are they Catholic lite? The smiley face of thumbscrews and the heretic fork?

It sure as a Blarney Stone doesn’t look that way. EVERY ONE of those terrorist attacks in the bullet list at the start of this blog was committed by the Irish. Our cute image of shamrocks and leprechauns is a lie. There’s nothing cute about flying body parts in a terrorist attack. And it’s not over. The NEW IRA (aka Real Irish Republican Army) has already started the terror in this millennium.


Then we need to start with the deportations. Obama was rightly called the deporter in chief. It seems to be a title that the current president wants to assume. I wish him luck.
OK guys in Washington. You wanna deport? Start with Sean Hannity and Bill O’Reilly. Ship ‘em back where they came from. A one-way ticket to Limerick! Then you can add Pat Buchanan, Steve Bannon… and that’s only the beginning.

What is to be done?

We can’t build a wall in the Atlantic Ocean, but we can take control of our borders. First is putting a stop to all immigrants from Catholic countries-- especially Ireland. Cut the flow of the terrorists. Stop them before they attack again!

No rest until every one of those green-beer guzzling fairy kings and queens is returned to the Emerald Isle. Maybe a few good ones will get mixed into the kit or into the caboodle. But isn’t that risk worth what we’ll be saving?

It’s security for us. Our country. The future. This is a war for our children and grandchildren… a war we must fight. Let the vision of an Irish-free America THWICK into your mind. Doesn't that feel good?

-end-

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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. Subscribe to the MYKEL'S READERS Yahoo group readmboard-subscribe@yahoogroups.com]

→ Trump Paramour Dept: Stormy Daniels, the adult-film star who accused Donald Trump of sex in the first degree, has since joined the #metoo movement. The New York Times reports that Ms Daniels claimed that she was forced to have sex in order to keep her job in the porno-industry.

Says Daniels, “It made me feel very uncomfortable.”

→ Feminist Animal Rights Dept: Meanwhile, PETA has complained about the #metoo movement itself.

“The movement is human elitist... speciesist,” says PETA spokeswoman, Anita Berger. “Every day, hundreds of breeders force the horrors of sex on thousands of helpless canines and felines. In any other situation, this would be sexual slavery… or trafficking. But because the victims here have four legs instead of two, the abuse is allowed to continue.”

 

→ Shoutout Dept: Gay punkband, Hamstertube, has been performing at small clubs in Berlin, New York, and San Francisco. But who would have suspected TYLER TEXAS as the next hotbed of homotude? The band booked a solid week at the fancy Yahoo Stadium… every show sold out. Now, Rick Perry, former Texas governor, wants the group to perform the Star-Spangled Banner at the first Texas Rangers home game. It is unclear if the band will agree.

→ Antifa action dept: The Cedar Rapids, Jackson Hole, and Tupelo branches of Antifa have been extremely busy lately. The local divisions of the anti-facist warriors have been breaking into school and public libraries to seize and burn dictionaries!

Says Antifa spokesman, Toby A. Senser, “People have no idea of the awful content of these books. Inside them are nazis, fascists, and racists. It’s too much. There are just some things that should NOT be tolerated.

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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
• Sometimes I contribute to an interesting multi-talented blog called OgFomK Arts see me there!
• 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 featuring prominently.
• And my long-term pal Sid Yiddish contributes with his Mishegas Master Blog.